Old Lady's Purse

I love sunshine. The best days of my life have been spent at the beach. Nothing pulsed adrenaline through my veins the way a good wave could. That rush is addictive; it's an unforgettable event that brands its mark into the heaviest memories. Days on a surfboard are peacemakers, they calm the mental strife within a teenage mind. My first ride, at 14 years old, fired dormant neurons that pushed my muscles beyond their paygrade. A confidence bloomed within me; in an instant I became a legend of Neptune’s shores. Surfing forever attached my soul to mother ocean. Surfing forever attached me to her too, my love. We have been married now for 10 years, but it seemed like yesterday when she washed over my heart like a strawberry moon rising over the pines of Trent County. June was the best person I had ever met. Our connection was instant and unquestionable.

As our flight landed in Cane Ridge, we were tingling with a familiar feeling brought to us by new adventures. Since our teenage years, we had more new experiences together than we could count. This new job at HQ pushed us a thousand miles from our favorite coast, but the pay increases would help us buy that waterfront condo we dreamed about. Working for BRIM Industries was not our most cherished accomplishment but the jobs did give us flexibility to travel together at least once a month. We used the time as our own monthly-mini-vacation, no matter where the plane landed. Our new base was within a sea of sparkling new 7-story apartment buildings. Common areas were crisp, with grass that glowed almost neon green against the concrete and glass walls. Swimming pools gleamed like blue diamonds lodged between the buildings. We only had to find our apartment, #328, and a porter would deliver our things. BRIM had taken care of everything for us. Our apartment was the best of everything, the newest technological advances infiltrated everything from the doorbell to the toilet. I had to read the damn instructions before I used the bathroom. Everything was wi-fi connected or automated and the home immediately began learning our preferences for things like shower temps, ambient lighting, and apartment humidity. June fell asleep while checking out online restaurant delivery services, so I decided to wander around the town and bring back dinner the old-fashioned way. There is no better way to explore a new place than at eye level with the locals; I always strike out for a long walk at every new spot we drop into.

Our first days at BRIM HQ seemed normal enough. Training for a new position isn’t usually much more interesting than training for the last ten positions. At this point in our careers, we’ve been to PowerPoint hell enough times to know it doesn’t last forever. After two weeks of initial training, we were finally getting the go-ahead for our first trip on the company dime. Also, normal enough, was the fact that we were going in different directions to begin with. We grew accustomed to time apart over the years and it made getting back together more special. We had another week of contracts to sign and insurance requirements to meet before we could leave. That would allow enough time to explore our new city and test the shower temps and mattress rigidity at the apartment. We wanted to try that Thai restaurant together too. A last-minute call shifted our plans. Our standard medical appointments were rescheduled so we could get on with our new tasks sooner than we expected. We’d been advised to leave the next day. Our last day together was rushed and strenuous. Our last kiss was hurried and impersonal, the usual adrenaline rush didn’t come, only a dread of longing for one more embrace creeped over me.

Two weeks later, after a disturbing trip with no contact from June, my flight circled above an unfamiliar city. From the pilot came a message of heavy traffic down below; we’d be in a holding pattern for at least 45 minutes. Rain swallowed the whole city in a gray overcoat. Long swaths of rain poured from miles above the runway before slamming the ground and pushing outward to the horizon. The neon hues of blues and greens were absent from the landscape. There were smokestacks spewing smoke and steam from powerplants in the middle of town; I never saw those on my long walks. I could see no pools shining like diamonds. I only saw vacant lots, between buildings, filled with trash and junk cars. I whispered to myself, “This can’t be Cane Ridge, we’re stopping for fuel or dodging a storm”. A dingy coldness covered the concrete and glass buildings that stood like headstones of a cemetery at dusk. A warm, calm came over me as I settled in for the wait until we could continue to my destination when the pilot blasted through the intercom, “Stewardesses, prepare the cabin for landing, we have a window for an eastward approach to runway 3, Cane Ridge”. My heart sank in disbelief and dizzy confusion. “Cane Ridge?”, I yelled out loud this time. The entire plane was startled by my outburst and I tried to hold my self together. I walked every inch of Cane Ridge in the two weeks before we left; I never saw the visions I witnessed from my window seat while circling the city. Fighting back an anxiety attack, I requested a gin and tonic, “make it a double”, from the stewardess but drink service is not available during descent. I knew that but I was freaking out. I needed something to dull my senses. My only consolation was to know I’d soon see my love, June. If I could make it to the terminal by 6:30, she would be waiting at the bus stop for me. I had rehearsed our meeting a thousand times a day for an entire week. After landing I sprinted from the terminal to the bus station and climbed aboard the 59 to our favorite row. We always sat in the back so we could make out like we were teenagers again. It was a little thrill that we still cherished. Calmness came over me again, I was near tears to finally end this wrenching journey home. I knew it wouldn’t be long before I would hold that sweet scented miracle, the sunshine of my life. The bus began to fill but I saved a seat for June.

It has left my memory, why my love did not sit with me. Others filled in the spaces between us. I could feel their eyes on me, searching for a weakness. They found none but my love for her. Their focus shifted from me. An old woman pulled a plastic bag from her purse. “Pills for everybody!”, she shouted. She had a heart-shaped locket tattoo on her wrist. I had viewed that picture before but I couldn’t place it in my memories. I only laughed because I knew people would see her cache and step away. No one is dumb enough to eat pills from an old lady’s purse, on the bus. My eyes were on them, searching for a bit of righteousness against this old kook. I found nothing but acceptance. The bag bounced from one to another passenger, until we were the only two yet to join this crazy experiment. I focused again on my love. I could feel the eyes of everyone else probing her thoughts. They were willing her to take the pills. Their strange approval comforted her while my words ricocheted off her every atom. The delight in my love’s eyes danced upon me as she swallowed the pills. Such happiness I had not seen in her before. She searched for my approval but found none. Her focus shifted to them. Mayhem! At once they attacked me, encouraging her to join in. Blankness covered her face. She was no longer with us, the pills were too strong, too fast, too many. The bus frothed with hostile servants of the pills. It swerved through a red light and crashed on its side next to the laundromat on 5th Street. At first, I welcomed the sanity of the wreck. Finally, something from the outside could grab this circus and contain its animals. Their eyes were on me again as the old lady slapped my face. I remembered where I saw the tattoo. The old lady latched onto me and pulled me down. Falling over her, I headed for the door. I saw an opening to pull my love through, but she did not budge. She was already missing. I was foreign, and she no longer knew me.