Julie tucks a stray curl the color of cinnamon and ginger, behind her ear as she finishes filling in the deposit slip.
Island sketches: Tom
Tom bikes to the Minute Clinic pulling an empty toddler trailer behind his faithful old Townie. His teal scrubs show no signs of exertion, even though the morning is hot and tropic. After his shift, he will pick the typhoon twins up from the day camp being held at the old school.
When Tom is off duty, the shifts are filled with interns whose only real helpful knowledge is how to get in contact with Tom and where to find a magazine while you wait for him.
It is the last day of junior surf camp. All week, the added steps of putting surf gear away and removing as much sand as it takes to comfortably ride home has added an extra half hour to the boys' pick-up routine.
Just time enough to pull the clinic shades for a power nap and wake in time to stop by Julie's for his usual.
Julie closes at four, but she doesn't leave until Tom stops by, even if he's running late. She always has a smoothie on standby for him and a little something to eat. Tom is always appreciative, even when the smoothie has spinach.
Islanders know all about Tom's naps and we take special care not to disturb him when he's fortunate enough to grab one.
Between endless clinic shifts and caring for Dax and Dylan, his plate is full-to-overflowing. And that's before you factor in the heartbreak.
It's no small wonder he hasn't taken to drinking.
It's no small wonder he hasn't taken to drinking.
Again.
Pretending not to notice naps is easier than pretending not to notice the island's only licensed nurse practitioner hungover the clinic reception desk or slung over Bennie's bar on a Tuesday at 10 in the morning.
We've left those days behind us, and that's where we'd like them to stay, especially during jellyfish season. Tom is especially good at treating those stings; some homemade remedy Pow-wow Pete taught him long ago.
When Tom is off duty, the shifts are filled with interns whose only real helpful knowledge is how to get in contact with Tom and where to find a magazine while you wait for him.
"Real" doctors never come out to the clinic and the hospital is thirty miles down the single lane umbilical cord connecting the island to civilization .
This week's worth of naps have Tom looking almost rested. If one didn't know better, they might even think Tom was happy behind those sparkling eyes. But, if you know about Tom's naps and you know about Tom's smoothies, then you also know enough to realize that Tom will probably never be happy again.
This week's worth of naps have Tom looking almost rested. If one didn't know better, they might even think Tom was happy behind those sparkling eyes. But, if you know about Tom's naps and you know about Tom's smoothies, then you also know enough to realize that Tom will probably never be happy again.
Not the way he used to be, anyway.
investments
Our hands brushed as we tucked our daughter into bed
between us.
He pulled away quickly as if burned, despite a lack of spark.
Exasperated sigh; me.
Our bodies have touched, remember?
They've been intertwined.
Look at the child between us.
How do you think those get here?
These were only thoughts.
We have been stuck fast in a No Speaking zone for weeks.
No Touching Zone, too.
Obviously.
Down with sixty second hugs,
We laughed at the couple who did not know how.
'Always kiss me goodnight'
Pretty, plastic platitude.
I understand not wanting to touch.
I need those walls, too.
Bites always forthcoming.
Please, do, just stay over there
In your corner
Pouting.
Jimmy Wayne, baby.
Stay gone.
The touch was accidental
This is all so typical.
First it's loud bravado
and then a falling back,
victimized by yourself,
the blame is shifted to me.
He makes a list of all the things I am not;
tells me to just leave.
I am not:
a good mother
a godly person
genuine
I think of me that same way, too.
Spend my life trying to change it.
If those are the reasons we fail,
it is far too late for rescue.
'It sucks to lose your investment', he says
I agree though our currencies differ.
Promises were made
Tee shirts worn
Trip upon trip was taken
Renew those vows
Merge accounts
These bracelets made of hope and rope-
We'll never take them off.
I look at my naked wrist which has accidentally burned him
He is saying 'Our hate is mutual'
But only he has spoken.
"I can't imagine building a life with you."
(now that we are twenty years in )
Good things, spoiled
should we have attained them:
Trips with bickering;
a home spilling over with fight..
What is truly lost?
Time, perhaps.
The plot?
A belief in happy endings.
If this is
at last
The End.
Until the last apology,
I cannot see myself out.
Time and tomorrow will tell.
As always
We wait.
(because there was potential)
between us.
He pulled away quickly as if burned, despite a lack of spark.
Exasperated sigh; me.
Our bodies have touched, remember?
They've been intertwined.
Look at the child between us.
How do you think those get here?
These were only thoughts.
We have been stuck fast in a No Speaking zone for weeks.
No Touching Zone, too.
Obviously.
Down with sixty second hugs,
We laughed at the couple who did not know how.
'Always kiss me goodnight'
Pretty, plastic platitude.
I understand not wanting to touch.
I need those walls, too.
Bites always forthcoming.
Please, do, just stay over there
In your corner
Pouting.
Jimmy Wayne, baby.
Stay gone.
The touch was accidental
This is all so typical.
First it's loud bravado
and then a falling back,
victimized by yourself,
the blame is shifted to me.
He makes a list of all the things I am not;
tells me to just leave.
I am not:
a good mother
a godly person
genuine
I think of me that same way, too.
Spend my life trying to change it.
If those are the reasons we fail,
it is far too late for rescue.
'It sucks to lose your investment', he says
I agree though our currencies differ.
Promises were made
Tee shirts worn
Trip upon trip was taken
Renew those vows
Merge accounts
These bracelets made of hope and rope-
We'll never take them off.
I look at my naked wrist which has accidentally burned him
He is saying 'Our hate is mutual'
But only he has spoken.
"I can't imagine building a life with you."
(now that we are twenty years in )
Good things, spoiled
should we have attained them:
Trips with bickering;
a home spilling over with fight..
What is truly lost?
Time, perhaps.
The plot?
A belief in happy endings.
If this is
at last
The End.
Until the last apology,
I cannot see myself out.
Time and tomorrow will tell.
As always
We wait.
(because there was potential)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)