Guardians and Angels | Chapter Four (Part 13)

"Christopher his home!"

I can smell him.

I usually smell him a mile away or more when he comes home. Cotton and Cherry Coke. Perspiration from running, pepperoni on his breath. I can smell him long before I can hear him, usually. They didn't teach me to smell at the school for the blind people where Carol met me. No, it was my gift. I was born with it. I could smell better than all the other dogs since I was a puppy. My brothers and sisters knew too. I wasn't the strongest, or the fastest, but I damn sure could smell the best. I could smell the scents, the traces of the scents... the memory of the traces of the scents; and I could see everything in my mind.

FLASHES

Stories playing out like motion pictures showing me what is happening and where. Yes, I have the best nose... and that helps me be the smartest. Smartest in the room usually. When you are a dog you do more listening than most people. Mainly because it's rude to bark while people are talking, and people were always talking, so dogs do a lot of listening, and listeners learn more than everyone else.

I was "a very smart girl," Christopher would say. Christopher talked to me like an adult when other people where around, but still praised me like a dog. I understand why, I actually think its cute. I was a "grown baby" he would say. Which made me laugh inside sometimes. If that boy only knew how many times I watched over him and saved his ass as he grew up. That boy is a handful. Never listens to nobody. I love Christopher, I really do.

I'm Cinca, Fifth of the Litter; Distinguished Honor Graduate of the San Rafael Guide Dogs for the Blind. Guardian of Carol, protector of Christopher's Mom.

That's my full name.

Well, at least the name Chrsitopher gave me one night. You won't find that exact name on my documentation if you look it up. He always talked to me like an adult. I loved him for that. He knew I was smart. He knew I thought in proper English. He didn't use the sing-song voice when he talked to me. He just talked to me like everyone else. I don't fall for the sing-song voice. No, its a deception coming from most people. It's their fake voice. The one they use to trick you. To catch you. Christopher wasn't like that, though. He always talked to me at night like a real person. He knew how smart I was. I love Christopher so much.

He's with someone!

RED ALERT

sniff sniff sniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiif

watermelon gum

vanilla wafers

sweet, a little sweaty, they've been moving fast

BLOOD!

I SMELL BLOOD ON HIM

SNIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIF

It okay

It's not Christopher who is bleeding...

It's the other one

Christophers heartbeat is elevated, his face is a little flush, but he is calm. He is happy actually. He feels really nice right now, vibrating in away I haven't felt him vibrate before, something is different... but in a good way

Christopher is with a... friend

(MORE THAN A FRIEND)

It does makes sense. I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later. He hides it so well. But not from me. I've known forever.

The bloody one is... safe.

Christopher is safe with him

CODE RED DEACTIVATED

Christopher never brings people over. It's because of George and Carol, he’s mad at them. I watch him all the time

He’s cries... in his room.

Hates when George sees it

Wants George to work more. He's always home now. George stays home because of his head. He has static in his head. Burns his grass to make the Buzz turn into the Hum. Christopher doesn't like when George burns his grass to calm down. Says George should "Just Say No" like the tv commercials. George gets quiet. He neeeds the burned grass. George likes the way the grass makes him feel. It makes him feel like a better person.

Makes the static go away. Turns the Buzz into the Hum.

His static, it's like a million people scared, all at once, and they are inside him screaming his name and telling him to watch out for... Watch out for something he can't see. The fucking jungle did this to him he always says

Christopher doesn't like it.

He thinks George is a hypocrite. Hates the way the burned grass makes him lay around. Makes him daydream and zone out. Makes him stay home.

I agree the boy

But the boy is wrong, also. It makes George better. Makes him think he might be able to cry someday. He can control the crying. "Yeah, he can control that shit," he thinks.

Sometimes I can hear him think, like I do Mama. But only when he's scared He gets scared alot. Scared of the war. Thinks the people in the field are the war people, the people from the jungle. Grabs his rifle

I have to tell him its Christopher

I go CRAZY!

He knows if I go CRAZY its Christopher coming home. He never wants to make that mistake. If he shot Chrsitopher...he'd shoot himself. He loves Christopher

His pride and joy, he says

Thats why he's hard on the boy. Sometimes too hard. Loses his temper

"Fucking hates it when he does it," but "the boy needs to toughen up"

The boy is sensitive. Like his Mother. So he needs to be TOUGH. But George can go too far. Especially if he's scared. So he burns his grass and calms down.... feels the breaths go in and come out and the cables start to sleep. The buzzing cables. The tightly wound iron Golden Gate Bridge cables. The ones holding everything up over the water. Thats what it feels like to George, the strongest cables in the world, shrieking with an electtical buzz.

I can feel the cables relax… George thinks of the red bridge where he grew up. The cables are stretched s0 tight. Holding up the pretty red bridge in the clouds. Keeping him above the water. They relax enough so the buzzing becomes a humming noise. He can deal with the Hum. He can't deal with the Buzz.

The Buzz drives him fucking crazy.

He thought about jumping off the red bridge because of The Buzz. When he came back from the jungle. He walked the bridge a few times, scoped it out. Made plans. He wanted to jump off from the side of the Golden Gate Bridge near Angel Island. George thought it would be cool to dive from the top of the Golden Gate Bridge, do a swan dive, arms open like an angel, as he fell down into the water.

No angel wings for him though

Not after what he's done

That's why he needs to burn the grass. George is nicer when he burns the grass . Sometimes he laughs and laughs. But he won’t cry. I wish George would cry. Sometimes he goes to his truck and he puts the gun in his mouth. I think its because he won’t cry.

He thinks of about the boy and Carol though. He remembers he didn't jump off the pretty red bridge because he found out Carol was pregnant with Christopher that day. He went to call Carol, used a payphone near the bridge by the Visitors Center. It was on the side nearest Angel Island. The jumping side. This wouldn't take too long.

The shorter the sweeter. She'd sense it if he lingerd too long on the call...

He called Carol and she was so excited to hear from him. She thought she would have to wait until he got home from the City. He could hear the joy percolating through the payphone, warm and bubbly.

"I'm pregnant, baby!" she had whispered into the phone. Someone was in the room with her, maybe her father. He could hear the smile stretch across her face as she spoke.

"I'm going to have your baby, Baby! I think it happened the night you came home. I think I got two of the best gifts in the world that night, baby. You and little You. A you and me."

She was so happy. She knew her whispers made it easier on him. Made him understand things better now that he was back.

"I love you, baby" she whispered, joy sparkling from her tone. He hung up the phone, ran to his car, and sped home to Healdsburg... the Golden Gate Bridge standing alone in his rearview mirror, no longer buzzing or humming. It was just a bridge again,

Carol was having a baby

And so he burns his grass and listens to the radio in the truck and puts the gun down. That joy in her voice... it opens his hands, it nclenches his heart. Makes him se clear through the fog. A lighthouse. The memory of her voice on that day was his lighthouse. He see's it and puts the gun down.

He has so many guns.

He always plays a certain song on the radio. Has a cassette he puts in. He presses play and stares out the window of his work truck into the darkness. "Never Been Any Reason" by a band named Head East. He loved that song. George says it reminds him how he felt in the war

"Save my life, I'm going down for the last time / Woman with the sweet lovin' better than a white line / Bring a good feeling ain't had in such a long time / Save my life, I'm going down for the last time."

He loves the lyrics, the words, the pleading.

“Save my life I think I’m going down for the last time"

The boy saw him once. In the truck. The boy was worried. He's very sensitive. He knew he made George angry all the time but also knew George loved him. The boy was confused lately. George pushed him so hard all the time. The boy wondered how he could love him so much and then act like he hated him. He spoke loving things if the boy did what he was told, when he was told...

Christopher just wanted to read and color though. That's why he was quiet. He loved doing the exercises George made him do... But it was never enough. Always some mental game. He would do the push-ups, the sit-ups, the pull-ups. Christopher wouold always do as many as he could do. Every day was a new attempt at a world record. Got to get to 100. Sometimes I can lick his face when he does them. He tastes so sweet.

George always says if Chrsitophe "gets to 100" then he is done! Anything else is QUITTING, and QUITTING is a bad word.

"Your competition is working harder than you right now!"

"You have to always be ready!"

"Always be ready!"

"Never Quit!"

The boy can’t get to 100 push-ups. He goes to his knees when he does the push-ups and then cries. Going to his knees makes him cry every time. He gets so angry. It makes me worried when he changes like that. I'm not sure why going to the knees is QUITTING. He is still tries though. Still keeps pushing up. He lets me lick him when he is on his knees. He knows I know how to help when he is angry. He knows I care for him

Sometimes… sometimes… I think I can hear Christopher's thoughts….its his voice at least... but he is really good at hiding things. Way back in my head I hear it though, like an echo. Like the trace of an echo.. Like the memory of a trace of an echo

I hear his voice saying, “Don’t quit"

Over and over, inside him.

It's all he says.

Mama doesn’t do anything about George and Christopher. Mama is too sweet. She hears everything. Carol will talk to George at night… in her sweet way. Thinks George is trying to change the boy. Change him into something he’s not.

“Just let him be who he will be, baby”

George wants him to be the best though. Better than all the other boys. Better then he was. Christopher isn’t going to have to go into the Army like he did.

"No!" he would say and grit his teeth, frustrated.

"This is important, Carol!"

"He's not going to die in some far away fucking country, Carol! He has sports, and that's it! We aren't ever going to be able to send him to college. He makes it in baseball or wrestling. Or we lose hom to the fucking government. And if we lose him to the government... they send his ass straight over to Bumfuck, Egypt to die!"

"Okay baby," she would say, calmly. "Don't get so upset, it's okay, I understand"

She didn't want to make him feel the Buzz

The static would come and start BUZZING. Cicadas and bees screaming inside electronic vibrating metal boxes. Bugs from the jungle with robot voices, wailing in a chorus

GEORGE!

WEEEEE KNOOOOOOOOW WHHHHATTTT YOOOOU DID

He would start to feel the fear. The fear that everything will go wrong. One thing will lead to another and then "that is that!" Worse case scenario. It would be a catastrophe. Everything turns into a catastrophe nowadays. the littlest things can trigger him.

"That FUCKING JUNGLE!" he would scream in his head. This is why he needs to go sit in the truck. This is why he should get rid of the guns.Deep Breath. It's just Carol here, and Cinca, he would think.

I lick his face.

Sometimes I can make the static go away. Turn the Buzz into the Hum. But not all the time. Not as much lately.

He continues, speaking to Carol, trying to lower his voice. staring up at the popcorn ceiling above him in their bedroom. The alarm clock reading 3:30am in neon blue.

"Christopher has a future. He is althletic. And atheltic boys have it made. If he plays his cards right, he’ll go places. Won’t have to work construction. Won't have to break his fucking back every morning at dawn after a two hour commute into the City. I don't fucking WANT THAT for him, Carol! The Union Hall doesn’t have any work for anyone anyway. It's not even rainy season yet. Rainy season, when all the work dries up hahah!" he laughed , but it was true. And the truth scared him.

Rainy season was coming...when all the work that wasn't there would dry up

"God he wanted a drink so bad," he would tell Mama while laying in the bed

My nerves activate.

CODE RED

George shouldn't drink

George gets mean

Mama reaches over; finds his hand, squeezes it.

One squeeze, two squeezes, pause. Three squeezes.

A code

"I"

"I LOVE"

"I LOVE YOU"

He knew what it meant

It could calm him down in moments sometimes. She knows his heavy words make the static come back. And the static makes the drinking come back. And the drinking will make him do the white lines and go crazy again. And they will take Christopher away again. And George would go to jail

And Mama would be alone with me in the darkness

She doesn't think about me being there as much anymore though... I'm just her eyes at certain times, I'm mostly there to guard her from being hurt. She knows it and I know it. She reached over and found his hand in the darkness easily because she's lived in the darkness for about 3 years now but George wasn't part of her darkness. She grasped a glowing outline in her mind that was shaped eactly like hos hand.

George glowed to her

His outline glowed in the most beautiful tones.

Mama thinks it's his Soul. Or the edges of it.

The only thing she loved about being blind, one of the few benefits….is she somehow gained the ability to see peoples outlines. Like electric chalk lines in her mind... Outlines of their shape, their body, all different colors of bright electric lines, shimmering rope runnins along the edges…

Maybe it was their Souls... but she thinks it’s just the edges of it, peeking out. The event horizon of their Soul

I think shes right. I see the same thing in some ways but with my nose. I smell the scent and the pictures come to my mind. Together we make a great team. She might be able to see more than just the edges of their souls, pull back the veil a bit further, but if she were to see the entire soul she thinks maybe she would be pulled in, and not be able to escape; an astronaut falling into a black hole. Even if the Soul edges are pure white… especailly if they are pure white.

The pure ones pull you in the most.

Christopher's new friend.

He has a white outline

Vety bright. It shimmers.

Like an Opal

Christopher is safe.

Mama is safe

But Christopher is up to something.....

He's being sneaky...

Mama doesn't hear him yet... the music is so loud

"Allllllooooooooooooooone" by "Heart" is playing.

Mama loves this song.

I'm not getting in trouble. I'm a good girl. A very Smart girl

Christopher cannot be sneaky sneaky with me

"WOOF!"

I'm running toward the Gate. It wont take me long.

Panting, I hear the radio behind me switch off. Mama stands up from her chair. She exhales her smoke from her fire sticks...menthol plumes billow into the night around her

I'm almost to him! I'm a good girl!

I'm Cinca, Fifth of the Litter; Distinguished Honor Graduate of the San Rafael Guide Dogs for the Blind. Guardian of Carol, protector of Christopher's Mom.

"Is that you Christopher!?" Mama calls out from behind me.

I jump over the gate, I'm in mid-air, tongue out, easily clearing the old leaning gate that is barely hanging on.

I can see Christopher's face and he knows I won the game.

He knows I'm a good girl.

A very smart girl.

No sneaking up on Cinca and Mama tonight!