3 White Stripes

Where does love go once it leaves this world?

Three White Stripes ©2013

A Short Story by

Michael A. Giudicissi

1.    The Man

The man arched forward in his seat……looking for the telltale signs that he was almost home. Mark was his name, although in the nameless, faceless cabin of a 737, that hardly mattered. Mark was traveling home from a business trip, the kind of trip he was taking every week now. It used to be, when the economy was good, that he could work near his home…not needing to fly off to cities around the country every week in order earn his keep. Those were the good days…or, more accurately, those were the times when all the days were good. He had good days now too, but those days were only when he was home, and not hurtling through time and space chasing the elusive dollar.

That he was stuck on these planes week after week implanted in Mark a great deal of sadness. Others had remarked that traveling for business must be fun…the new scenery, the people, the hotels and the food. To Mark, it had never been fun…it was old, and tired, and depressing. Born out of desperation, taking this job meant his family could have a reasonable amount of financial security but the price to pay….endless, mindless trips to places he hated, with people he cared little about….was almost too great.  Others hadn’t been so lucky when things got bad. His Friend, the one he knew since high school lost his job. The Friend’s Wife worked two jobs to try to make ends meet, but they both knew it was a losing battle. First it was the car, then the house…..then any semblance of normalcy as The Friend and his family moved from one place to another. They usually relied on the goodwill of family but as the resumes went unnoticed, the phone calls unanswered and the emails returned with “No such user found at this domain” they stayed anywhere people would have them. The last Mark heard, The Friend was delivering pizzas in a borrowed car and planning to move his family to another state for a fresh start. In some strange way, Mark envied The Friend. Although life was hard, The Friend had his family with him always. The Friend never had to jet off on a 5 day road trip and love his family from the blunt end of a telephone receiver. Sure, The Friend had it hard….but that would turn around, wouldn’t it? Mark wondered if he’d sold his soul for 3 bedrooms, 2 baths and a view of the park? “It’s like a rollercoaster” he thought to himself about his work…and his life. “You get on, and you can’t get off until the ride’s over”. He was trapped. Trapped by his life, trapped by his Boss, trapped by his Company and trapped….trapped away from those he loved. The bitter thought of next week’s business trip invaded his brain…and made a bile rise upin his throat. Before he could even enjoy his days with his family, he had to begin planning another hated departure. His eyes watered a bit but he held back on his tears. His Family almost never saw him cry, which was good. He wanted to protect them from all that was bad in his world and only show them the good. He’d left tears on pillows in 21 states in the past 2 years…but no one needed to know that….no good could come from them knowing that.

This wasn’t the life he planned…not by a long shot. In college he envisioned himself a titan of industry. He’d invent something, create something, cure something…..something that would make him rich enough to not have to invent, create or cure anything anymore. He would keep inventing, creating and curing after that point, of course, because that’s what brilliant people do…they just don’t do it for the money. His first few jobs after school disillusioned him. All of his hard work, studying and planning….just to ride a desk all day? Those first years he wondered if anyone actually cared if he did his job, or whether it was even necessary. He once went an entire week when he was 25 years old without doing a stitch of work…nothing. He sat at his desk, moved papers around, called his friends and walked to the water cooler and bathroom frequently. The result? No one noticed…no one said a thing. Weeks later Mark got a raise at his annual review while his Boss noted that he “showed great command of his job and is a real team player”. Amazing. Other less than fulfilling jobs followed until he finally found his calling. Hired on as the director of a non-profit, Mark found his passion and calling as a fundraiser. He’d never done it before…asking people for hundreds of thousands of dollars, but his natural charm and persuasion won over many more people than it didn’t. He loved The Job, as it became known and settled in for a long and illustrious career. Only when the stock market crashed, only when the banks crashed, only when the entire financial world crashed did the money dry up. No amount of charm could bring in million dollar donations when companies were laying off people by the carload. His magic was gone…..The Job was no longer his…and so he left his dream behind to create a new one. That new “dream” was this Job….once again in a situation where it mattered not what he did…only that he did something each day. He always wondered what would happen if he didn’t show up in a particular city…..would anyone know….would anyone care? Because The Job was paying the bills and keeping his family secure, he never ventured to find out…..but his instincts and his experience told him no, no one would care. He was now a man who did nothing of value, working with valueless people, in a vast wasteland that used to be corporate America…..and no one noticed, and no one said a thing.

Snapping back to reality, Mark began to see familiar terrain….the mountains, desert and river that told him he was close to being home. Being the avid business traveler, he was one of the first to board the plane and seated himself near the front on the aisle. He craned his neck to the right hoping to catch a glimpse of The City carved out of a dry, dusty desert. He knew with certainty he’d be home soon as The Pilot announce just 10 minutes earlier that the plane was on its initial descent. Within minutes Mark would be able to see the fringes of The City, the small airport on the westside, the bluish, brownish river that dissected the heart of town and the downtown stubbornly rising from poverty stricken neighborhoods that had been around longer than any white man in this country. Every time he flew in this way he’d search for the mall….the one marker that was easy to identify. After the mall, he’d look south trying to find the park. There were many parks, but this one was large and it sat right next to the school. Once Mark saw the school he knew it was his park. He’d look to the north of the park and his eyes would fixate on the serpentine road that cut a twisted line between the neighborhood, his neighborhood, and the park and school. Then Mark would look for the house, his house, that held his family, waiting for him to be home once more…to be theirs once more, even if only for a few days.

Usually Mark searched in vain for his home.He was over it so quick that he couldn’t distinguish it from the other tract homes that had been built in the area over the past 15 years. He usually thought he saw it….but was never really quite sure. It warmed him just to knowthat he would soon be on the ground….soon be back in the arms of the ones he loved. Somewhere down there….somewhere, was his house, his home, his family, his life….

On this day, Mark couldn’t even see the houses. A Fat Woman whose black polyester pants were covered by white dog hair plopped herself down in the middle seat just as Mark was expecting not to be crowded on this flight. Her hair looked like a well worn Brillo pad….and stuck out at odd angles from her pockmarked forehead. She wore thick rimmed black glasses of the type that many people would think trendy, but on her they just looked thick. Try as he might, Mark couldn’t get a clear view past the fat, the fur, the hair and the glasses….and with a sigh he sat back in his seat, writing a mental note to begin taking a window seat in the future.

 “Home soon” he thought to himself and mentally begin planning the weekend. There was always so much to do, so many things they wanted to do, and the time went by too quickly. The sun would crack open his tired eyes on Saturday morning…and before he knew it, he was lying in bed on Sunday night….ready to jet off again to exotic destinations around the country like Trenton, Cleveland and Omaha.

As the plane gracefully arced away from the mountains and toward the runway Mark began to relax. “Just a few more minutes” he thought. Just a few minutes and he’d be rid of the Fat Woman, The Pilot, The Other Passengers and The Crew…and he’d be on his way home. Some people live an entire life in two days….why couldn’t he be satisfied with having every weekend at home, he thought?

The flight in was bumpy, even by the standards of The City in the Desert. At some point during landing, the plane gets close enough to the ground and squeezes the air underneath it as it approaches…and the turbulence goes away. In that moment, that sweet smooth moment, Mark knew it was going to be ok…he was going home.

The Flight Attendant was the first to welcome The Passengers to The City. Her chipper voice was just the tonic Mark needed to sit still for 2 more minutes as the plane taxied to the gate. He flipped on his phone and sent the same simple text he always did at this point…..

Just landed…Love You….tell my little girl that Daddy’s home…..

2.    The Wife

The man had a wife…her name was Mary. Mary and Mark met during a campus visit just before their  freshman year in college. To say it was love at first sight would be an overstatement….but it was definitely curiosity at first sight. Mary remembers seeing the tall, slight goofy guy staring at her across the quad, and she remembers thinking “he’s kind of cute”. They met that day but never imagined a relationship would bloom. Upon entering their freshman year they two met again….and again. Finally, on a cold late Winter day as Mark and Mary strolled along Fayette Ave, he asked her out on a proper date. She accepted, of course, since that’s what she’d been waiting for since their first semester.  It was  a “comfortable love” as Mary used to describe it. From the beginning, they didn’t play games with one another. They enjoyed being young and being in love, but they also seemed more mature, more content with each other than many of the couples they hung around with. It was always assumed that they would marry, although in those days they didn’t talk much about it. Why should they? Everything seemed right with their world….the future would take care of itself, wouldn’t it?

As people, or more appropriately as students, they couldn’t have been less alike. Mark was a business major, hoping and wishing to take over the world but not really sure how. His study habits ranged from “not at all” to pulling all nighters in a desperate attempt to ace his exams and bolster his sagging grades. Mary was a Psychology major with an interest in behavioral health. She dreamed of the day she would work with at risk children….those whose worlds weren’t as perfect as the one she grew up in. it would be her way of giving back….and paying it forward at the same time. Mary was an excellent student. She made the Dean’s list in her sophomore year while Mark hung in and tried to pull good grades from bad at the end of each semester. That he didn’t seem to take school as seriously as she did bothered her a small amount, but she saw behind the curtain a young man that wanted success, but didn’t know yet how to achieve it. Mary typically told herself that Mark would grow up one day and become a great husband, father and provider….of this she was sure.

Upon graduation they decided to move out west much to the chagrin of Mary’s family. With a proper education and the support of family back east, Mary’s father was sure that she and Mark could create an idyllic life for themselves. He seemed not to understand that these two souls had met, fallen in love…and then fallen more deeply in love over the past 4 years than anyone imagined. Whether Mark and Mary knew it consciously or not, they were all for each other and were quickly needing no one else to make their lives complete. When they arrived in The City in the Desert in Mark’s old Toyota, they were sold. It was far from home, far from school and far from anything but each other. It was perfect.

The pace of The City was much different than either of them had ever experienced. Things got done today, or they didn’t…and if they didn’t get done today they might get done tomorrow. Mary sometimes wondered if the world might skip and day or two and The City would never even notice.

They settled into a small one room apartment near the university area of town…old habits die hard. Mark began his series of meaningless jobs either selling or administering or discussing things of little importance to him. Mary jumped into the working world with vigor and landed a job as a counselor for at risk youth. She imagined for so long what this career would hold, how she would take kids from the brink and show them a better way of life, that the complete disregard of assistance from many of the indolent little punks took her breath away. “Don’t you see” she wanted to plead with them on some days, “I’m here for YOU, I want to help you”. If that was the message she attempted to get across, it fell mainly on deaf ears. These kids didn’t want help…they wanted an excuse, thought Mary, although she mentally scolded herself each time the thought crossed her mind.

If job satisfaction eluded Mark and Mary, happiness in other parts of their life did not. One of the great benefits of living in The City was the low cost of living. Even on their limited wages, they were able to live a moderate lifestyle and there wasn’t much they wanted that they couldn’t have. The fact that they didn’t want much other than each other helped that fact immensely. They often visited museums, shows, fairs and events around The City and in neighboring states.  When Mark’s old Toyota finally died, they bought their first ever new car….a 4 door sedan that  wouldn’t have made others look twice but to Mark and Mary was at once their chariot, their limousine and their escape from their less than satisfying careers. In the second year of living in The City Mark and Mary decided to marry. It wasn’t a climax by any means…they’d known almost since their first date that they would. The reason for marriage at that time was the mounting pressure from their parents to reinvent themselves someday as grandparents. Mary felt strongly that their children should be conceived and born in wedlock, so as to set an example for the many other kids she was attempting to counsel to that same end.

Their marriage was back East among their family and friends. It was the kind of wedding you see on TV…signed, sealed, delivered and paid for by Mary’s parents. Mark’s parents were there as well and they contributed to the happy couple’s future with a large check to begin their nest egg with. The day and the honeymoon were happy enough…..but Mark and Mary really wanted to get back to The City and begin their next phase of life as man and wife. Mary had silently committed to becoming the superwife….bringing home the bacon and frying it up in a pan, so that Mark could concentrate on finding something in his career that would inspire him to the greatness she knew he held within. That Mark already thought of her as the world’s perfect woman didn’t diminish her fortitude to be even better for him…for them.

Since one of the primary products of the sacred union of marriage is to be children, they jumped into the creation of said children with abandon. At first Mark told Mary he wasn’t sure if they were ready….after all, they were still very young. Mary knew that Mark was ready…that they were ready and so she tempted him endlessly in the hope that one day the stick would have two lines instead of one…and their next phase of life could begin. Stubbornly, the stick stayed single lined for months….and then years. There were doctors and specialists to see, tests to take and procedures to undergo. None of them found any reason why Mary could not get pregnant, only validated that she could….she should be able to. “Give it time”said one well meaning doctor, “don’t stress about it and it will happen when nature intends it to.” Lacking any better advice, Mark and Mary made a pact to “give it time” and not let thoughts of a childless existence take up residence in either of their minds.

The jobs continued to change for both of them. Mark made more and more money while he enjoyed each job less and less.Mary gave up counseling when she convinced herself not only was she not making a difference to the kids, but she was making a change to herself and her outlook on life….and it wasn’t a change she liked seeing in herself. For a time she worked at a department store, spritzing unaware passers by with the latest fragrance from France’s finest perfumeries. She did some administrative work for a law firm that was so old and so traditional that she couldn’t tell where the leather stopped and the wood paneling began. Not during any of these jobs did she find the satisfaction that she found in Mark’s arms…..or in his soul.The day would darken when they were apart and brighten when they were reunited. Often she wondered if theirs was an unhealthy relationship….co-dependent it would be called? They had friends and did things apart…but rarely was the enjoyment of those things matched by the enjoyment of them being together. She and Mark discussed it and decided that they simply had a deeper bond, a more truthful love than others that they knew. They laughed at the thought that their relationship was flawed because they were too much in love….and the subject was never broached again.

Years passed. It’s funny how quickly time accelerates when you get closer to being old than being young. As their third decade of life was coming to a close Mary had a good day….a very good day. The stick came back with two lines….and she sat there and thought, “I’m going to be a mother!”. That night, Mark came home and brightened visibly when he saw her….not unusual by any means….but more so than other nights. It was almost like he knew what she was going to tell him….it had to be written all over her face, as it was written on the stick. The news was shared, tears were spilled, a hastily bought bottle of sparkling cider was popped and drunk and Mark and Mary set out to become parents.

The labor was hard, but that’s what Mary was expecting. 19 hours of hard work on top of 9 months of hard work, on top of a lifetime of hard work…..to bring this beautiful creature into existence. Mark was right there for all of it, of course. When they plucked her from Mary’s womb, she was tiny and wrinkled. The nurses gently wiped her down and handed her to Mary while Mark cradled the both of them in his long arms. Since they’d not know whether to expect a boy or girl, they hadn’t bothered to pick out names. “What should we name her?” asked Mary as the little creature gasped and cooed on her breast. “Let’s name her Grace” Mark said simply….and they both knew instantly that there was no other name….Grace. And so it was agreed that baby Grace joined the family in their newer, and bigger one bedroom apartment  that was surely going to need an upgrade in the near future. Mark had visions of diapers, Barbie’s, toy boxes and books. Mary had visions of lace curtains, pink sheets, smooth edges all soft, safe and protective of baby Grace. In essence, they had the same thought….we’re adults, we have a baby………….we need a house.

3.    The House

On a bright Saturday morning Mark, Mary and baby Grace piled into the sedan to go house shopping….home shopping. The university area was out, judged to be either too loud, too expensive or too unsafe….and sometimes a combination of all three. After countless hours spent readying, discussing, comparing notes and dreaming Mark and Mary had settled on the west side of town. It was younger, cheaper and seemed safer than where they were. Had money been no object, another area might have been considered but all told, this is where they could afford and where they decided to establish their home.

A large number of houses they saw at first were clearly not Mark and Mary houses. Sometimes people built things big, just because they could….and these homes didn’t convey the coziness, the homeyness that Mark and Mary desired. Their budget put them somewhere firmly in the middle of the “brand new, small and not near anything” category and the “established, definitely needs work but you know who your neighbors are”category.

They decided on the latter.

When they first saw The House, it wouldn’t be an overstatement to say they were underwhelmed. It was nice, although they both decided early in their house hunt to stop using that word….nice, because it conveyed almost nothing of value.  It looked much like the houses of their youth. The front yard had some sparse green growth that had definitely been grass at one point in its life. There was a tree, while not quite grandiose, still impressive by west side standards. Mark judged the tree to be 25 feet tall and worthy, someday, of a tree house for Grace and her little girlfriends to have a tea party in while talking about sugar & spice and everything nice. The house was a lightish, bluish kind off color…more indistinct than anything else. A large bay window graced the left side of the front of the house but didn’t seem to point to a living area. Two well worn concrete steps had rooted themselves underneath the front door and paid homage to the tiny path the led to the driveway and 2 car garage. It was definitely, positively an “OK” house….but not what they thought they were looking for. It was Mary, always the more sensible one, who first said “We’re here, let’s go in and just take a look”.

If the outside of the house was indifferent, the inside was transformative. Bright light from the afternoon sunbathed the interior in a warm, mellow glow. The hallway and living area beckoned with a worn but welcoming hardwood floor. The kitchen was the lucky recipient of that bay window in front…..housing a nook for a table and chairs to eat in. Sunlight streamed in and drew the small family deeper into the house. There was a fireplace surrounded by comfortable furniture that looked as though the family that lived here was very much at home here. Grace, noiselessly crawling around, gained delight on how her knees slid on the floor and she could crawl in place for hours. Mary mentally noted how much this activity of Grace’s might let her get more work done during the day….which was a very good thing. Mark took note of the high ceilings and open feeling. The rooms were at once open and airy, while at the same time being cozy.  A visit upstairs revealed 3 smallbedrooms….only the master bedroom could boast anything about its size….and even then it was in over its head. The master bedroom had its own small bathroom while the rest of the house would need to use the one out in the hall.

For all of their fascination with many of the house’s details, there were some things they weren’t infatuated with. The kitchen had wallpaper straight out of the disco era. “Hey, 1970 called and it wants its wallpaper back!” quipped Mark as he ran his hand over the harvest gold pattern. “Not too bad sweetie, I can take this down no problem”. Mary smiled gently knowing that Mark could do anything he set his mind too. The cabinets were not going to show up on any gourmet cooking shows either, but at least they were sturdy and well built. The formica countertop also had seen many, many better days and would need to be replaced along with the dull linoleum floor. The kitchen, it seemed, didn’t benefit from the golden sunshine that the rest of the house did, and so like a houseplant that gets no light, it simply hadn’t thrived like the other rooms.

The rest of the house checked out fine and the family exited to the backyard to see what outdoor adventures might await them should they make this house their home. A high block wall obscured much of the view but Mark’s 6 foot tall line of sight was able to make out a middle school and a park directly across the street. The rest of the backyard was generic with a small covered patio, a few trees and bushes scattered around the margins and a close relative of the front yard’s used-to-be grass covering the balance. Still Mark was awed….he imagined evenings and weekends in the park teaching Grace to roller skate. He imagined Mary walking her to school and sending her off with a kiss and a brown bag full of lunch. He imagined himself as the mighty grill master, reserving the weekends to his mastery of meat on the fire. And finally he imagined his little family, every night, piled together on the sofa, in front of the fireplace, wrapped in a blanket, wrapped up in each other……wrapped up in their love.

“Let’s buy it!” shouted Mark….to no one in particular since Mary and Grace had walked up towards the front of the house.“What did you say Mark?” inquired Mary. “Let’s buy it….I know it needs work, I know it’s kind of old, I know it’s not the dream house that we discussed…but I’m dreaming of this being our home right now…and it just feels right” the words poured out of Mark like the last sips of a fine wine from their bottle. Mary was skeptical about deciding right then and there. They had more time to choose, why not look at some other areas? Mark was persuasive though, taking Mary and Grace back into the living room and sitting them on the couch. He cradled them in his long arms and pulled them both tight. “This is my vision” he told his girls, “To spend every night here with both of you…..one big hug before we go to bed. What do you say Mary?”

Mary, of course, said yes…..she couldn’t ever resist Mark when he wanted her to see his side of things…and so the decision was made.

They moved into the house several weeks later and true to his word, Mark began making a list of everything they ever wanted to do to make that house their own. Each weekend, and some evenings during the week he dutifully grabbed the list with the intent of marking at least one item off. Their budget was limited so a new kitchen would have to wait, but painting, planting new grass seed, installing a gate in the back wall so they could get to the park more quickly and other projects were completed in rapid succession. Mary helped Mark when he needed it and baby Grace was always on hand to take something vital to the project and crawl away with it….never to be seen again. Mark could only laugh each time he reached for the next thing he needed, only to find it missing, and seeing Grace’s tiny feet disappearing in the distance.

The house quickly did become a home…just as Mark had promised. Mark had landed a job as the Director of a non profit entity and his focus was on fundraising. Although he’d done some selling in his past, nothing prepared him for meetings with CEOs and CFOs of huge corporations asking for donations that ultimately hit seven figures. If nothing could prepare him for it, nothing could stop him from succeeding at it either, it seemed. Mark had a natural charm and persuasion that many people couldn’t resist. His good nature, good looks and foundation with a happy family served him well as the dollars started to trickle and then pour in. His performancewas rewarded with a higher salary and the thought of that new kitchen was just a bit closer to reality.

Each night he gathered his little family on the couch. Sometimes they would watch TV, other times they’d read to baby Grace. Sometimes they simply sat there in each other’s arms and enjoyed being a family. They’d dream about tomorrow and laugh about yesterday….and all seemed right in their world. After awhile Mark would scoop baby Grace up in his long arms and spin her around and around until her laughter mixed with his own in a melody of happiness that many people can only imagine. They would all climb the stairs to Grace’s pink and lace room and lay their sweet baby to rest, only to look forward to another sunrise and another day together.

 Mary no longer worked outside the house, her job was taking care of Grace and managing the small business that had become their home. Mark would go off to work after kissing his girls and do the things that men do in the world of large corporations. He didn’t mind the work, and his success made it very bearable. He’d be home before dinner, sometimes early enough to take Grace in the backyard and play on the newly growing grass they’d planted before sitting down in front of their bay window to a wonderful meal and another night in paradise.

Eventually, the Job went away. It wasn’t Mark’s fault although with certainty, it was someone’s. The economy began to falter, slowly at first. There was a housing crisis, then a banking crisis, then a lending crisis, then an employment crisis. It got so that each evening,the nightly news espoused the latest addition to the crisis list….and things continued to get worse. If fundraising was easy for Mark in the good times, it was painful, almost unbearable in the bad times. Companies that freely gave to his foundation before were now laying off employees…employees with families just like Mark’s, on a weekly basis. Mark began to hate the days when he had to ask for money, because he knew if someone said yes, that money was not going to pay for someone else to keep living their version of paradise…just like he was. Eventually, almost everyone said no to Mark. They would start by saying “I’m really sorry” or “I wish I could” and they always meant it, but the ultimate answer was always no. When the donations went away, so did the job. The Board gave him a genuine “thank you” but it meant little. He was a 34 year old father, husband and grill master. He had a mortgage, a half finished kitchen, a loving wife and beautiful daughter. He’d built a fortress of peace and happiness for his family….and in one fell swoop, and with a final paycheck, it came to an end. Mark loved the life he’d built for himself, Mary and Grace…and was afraid of the change that would come if he couldn’t replace his income quickly.

The next job was the only one he could get….at least the only one he could get that would pay the bills and allow Mary to stay home with Grace. Mary protested that she could work..at least part time. They could make ends meet…it wouldn’t be that bad. Mark couldn’t bear the thought of Grace in day care….with strangers….without people around constantly that loved her the way that he and Mary did…..so he said no, don’t go to work Mary. I will take care of this family.

The next job required Mark to travel….a lot. If sending him away for one day was painful, sending him away for a week at a time was excruciating. There was no redemption on payday….or the monthly sales meetings or any day for that matter. The next job was simply a means to an end…until the next, next job would allow him to stay home with his family in his cozy little house by the park and the school.

Weeks on the road wore on Mark…..and each time his flight approached The City in the Desert he’d scan the tiny houses below, hoping to catch a glimpse of his. He never looked for his house on the way out of town, however, as that would cause him too much pain….only on his return, when he knew he would be with them shortly. Many times he thought he saw the exact house, but at altitude, they all look similar. So it was on a Saturday project when Mark decided to do something about that.

This particular Saturday was like many others. Mark, Mary and Grace were deliriously happy to be together. Mark had a few projects left on the list, and today’s was to paint the beams and posts on the back porch roof. He chose bright white to give the area a clean, cool look.Mark took more and more pride in his work at home, strangely juxtaposing the less and less pride he took in his job outside the home. On this day he sanded and scraped the woodwork and prepared it perfectly for a coat of paint. The brush dipped easily into the cool, thick paint and ejected itself covered in wetness, ready for work. Mark painted neatly and efficiently….covering every bare spot. The finished product, thought Mark, looked wonderful….and gave the backyard a polish and finish it hadn’t seen in years, maybe ever. Glancing down into the paint can Mark realized he’d overestimated his needs for the job. “Too bad” he thought, “this paint is so bright I can probably see if from an airplane.” Mark let that idea settle for moment and then walked into the house to find Mary.

“Mary, my love….what if I paint some white lines on the roof of the house?” he asked. Figuring he’d somehow lost his mind in the heat of the day, Mary poured him a cold glass of lemonade and asked why?“ Every time I’m flying home to you and Grace I look for our house. I can find the park and the school and see these houses, but if I painted some lines on the roof, I could see our house…and that would make me very happy…kind of like our own little secret.” Mary’s better judgment said that having the roof of her house look like a football field might be fun for Mark, but might make them the talk of the neighborhood…and of the cabin of every airliner flying over head as well. Still, she loved her man and hated to say no. “Can’t you put a weathervane or an antennae up there instead?” she asked. “No sweetheart, I won’t be able to see that from 10,000 feet….but white stripes, now THOSE I’ll be able to see.” Mark grinned a little as he answered.

It was finally decided that rather than painting white stripes on the roof of the house, Mark would paint them on the roof of the newly painted patio. Mary hadn’t really liked the patio roof anyway, as it got in the way of the view of the blue desert sky. She’s considered that one day they might remove it and open up the view, and Mark’s white stripes would go with it at that point.

Energized by his experiment, Mark climbed the ladder to the patio roof with paint and brush in hand. At first glance, Mark thought he had enough paint for 8 or 10 white stripes and began laying out a pattern before painting. As soon as brush hit shingle he knew that idea wouldn’t work. The stripes would be so narrow that he’d never see them from that altitude so he quickly refigured and decided on just 3 bold, wide white stripes. It took every last drop of paint to finish them and when he was done, he felt a little foolish but satisfied that he’d done all he could to make his cozy little home more visible from his ever more frequent trips out of and into town.

So on that day Mark, Mary and Grace became the owners of the House with 3 White Stripes as some of the neighbors called it. Some asked the family why they painted the stripes and others didn’t care. Every time someone asked Mark about the stripes he answered the same way…

“So I can see where my girls are waiting for me when my plane lands”………

4.    The Girl

Grace grew like a weed….well, a weed that has been pampered and pruned and had everything done to it that you don’t do to weeds. At once Grace was charming and disarming. Mark had a little secret fear that Grace was going to be much smarter than he was. How would he help his precious daughter with her homework if he couldn’t understand the problems?

Grace worried about none of that. From the time she could walk Grace loved to move. First crawling, then walking, on to running, and every sort of wheeled contrivance. Even though the school next to the park across the street was for older children, Grace was happy to use the park and school grounds for all manner of skating, scooting, biking, and wagoning. Grace particularly loved when Mark and Mary would take her to skate on the paved trail around the park. With her pink helmet and full compliment of pads on, she as much resembled a cartoon superhero as a little girl. Mark and Mary would walk and talk, and little Grace would earnestly skate in front of them asserting a bit of independence. As much as Grace felt like she was growing up, so too did Mark and Mary…both proud and sad in the way that only a parent can understand.

Pink…that was the color of choice for little Grace. Her room in The House with 3 White Stripes was decorated in many shades of pink with a relief of yellow and green to break up the color palate. Grace lived in pink, dressed in pink, bathed in pink, ate pink (cotton candy at the State Fair) and generally relied on the color as her personal stamp on the world that she was quickly growing up in.

As Mark traveled more and more often, Grace and Mary became fans of guessing when the text would come through as his plane taxied on the runway in The City in the Desert with a familiar refrain “Just landed…Love You….tell my little girl that Daddy’s home…..” One day, however,the text didn’t come. About the time that Mary would seriously begin to worry if Mark had been diverted or there had been some sort of incident she checked her aging cell phone to find it was powered off….and nothing she could do would coax it back to life.

When Mark did arrive home his efforts proved similarly futile, so they made plans the next day to visit a store where a suitable replacement could be purchased. On that day, as it were, there was a big cell phone sale, and one of the phones that was prominently displayed was one in striking glossy pink. Little Grace pleaded with Mary to choose that one…so she could always see Mark’s texts in the context of her favorite color. Mary’s sensibilities were more practical than a pink phone, but she agreed and Mark, Mary, Grace, and the pink phone all went home to The House with 3 White Stripes. Now Grace could eagerly await Mark’s texts each Friday afternoon on the shiny pink phone…and this made her very, very happy.

Week after week Grace grew stronger, and taller, and smarter. She loved living in The House with 3 White Stripes with Mark and Mary. She imagined that if other kids were happier than her…they must be the children of princes and princesses. The only hole in her happiness was that Mark was always leaving. It affected her, it seemed, much less than it did Mark…but wasn’t that the point? Grace was unhappy because Mark wasn’t happy. He tried to hide it, but little Grace always saw through his reassuring smile. She would wrap her arms around him and tell him she loved him. She made little cards and notes to put in his suitcase, which did bring Mark much delight when he inevitably found them. Grace secretly hoped she would somehow grow up faster so she could go to college and become a doctor or lawyer. If she could get a good job, she reasoned to herself, she could pay for the family’s bills…and Mark wouldn’t have to leave anymore.

Grace never let on how much she knew about Mark’s sadness in leaving. For a little girl she was carrying a big burden…but she loved Mark so much it seemed as light as a feather.

Each Friday Mary and Grace would keep glancing at the clock and the phone, guessing when the familiar “ding” sound of an incoming text message would let them know that Mark was safely on the ground. Some days they guessed and some days, when the wind blew strong from the West, Mark’s arrival would be so early as to catch them both by surprise.

This particular Friday was very special, as the next Monday was a holiday. Holiday weekends meant 3 full days of fun and family time. Mark, Mary, and Grace would wrap themselves in their love and spend 72 hours as deeply in it as possible. Grace was very happy that she and Mary could erase Mark’s sadness…if only for a little while.

The afternoon wore on and the guessing games would soon start at The House with 3 White Stripes in The City in the Desert.

5.    The Travel

Friday, thought Mark…..finally Friday. In some recess of his memory he believed there had been a country song with that name that he’d heard while driving around The City in the Desert. Soon he’d be home for a full 3 day weekend and he didn’t plan to waste a moment of it. His plane arced gracefully to the left as it eagerly searched for the airport in the late Summer sun.

As usual, the engines began to cut back their power and Mark and his plane were on initial approach. Flight attendants scurried about the cabin picking up newspapers, cups, and anything else people wished to dispose of. In a few moments they would ask for tray tables and seats to be placed in their full and upright positions for landing…and a cheery flight attendant would welcome them all to The City in the Desert.

The first sign of trouble was a loud report from the left side of the plane, as if they’d hit a bird. People quickly looked left but nothing seemed out of place. There were nervous glances about the cabin but the flight attendants continued scurrying so everyone assumed all was well. Just a moment or two later a much louder sound made itself known and this time, a look left revealed that one of the planes engines was tilted precariously down toward the ground. Among the shrieks and screams in the cabin Mark quietly looked across the aisle at a sight so unimaginable as to seem surreal. The left engine began to flap wildly as if on a hinge and the plane began what can only be described as a scream as it began to bank to the left.

Mark’s heart was quickly in his throat but logic told him that planes can fly with only one engine. If the left engine would just fall free they were surely close enough to The City in the Desert to land safely. Mark’s thoughts were accurate, yet horribly wrong, as the engine stubbornly refused to let go and began slamming into the wing on every stroke backwards. The sound and screams in the cabin echoed those of the plane. It sounded like a thousand blacksmiths were beating on the fuselage, shaking it with every mighty hammer stroke. Women screamed and cried loudly as men tried to look brave.

“Let go damnit!” implored Mark to the engine…as if he held some parental control over it. The engine refused and continued it’s metronomic beating on the wing. That only comfort to anyone on the plane was that it was still seemingly flying in a relatively straight line.The flight attendants hurried up and down the aisle yelling at everyone to check their seat belts.

In one might stroke the engine finally heeded Mark’s command and tore away from the wing and for the most minute amount of time, Mark believed he would be ok. No more flying, no more of the useless job, selling to useless people, useless products that their companies didn’t even need or use. This, he swore, would be his last flight….

The engine flew directly back at the fuselage near the tail and hit with such a thunderous boom that the passengers believed that God himself had come to smite them. The fuselage cracked and with a whoosh the cabin depressurized and all sorts of yellow masks fell in front of them. Mark was disoriented and scared, but wildly reached for a mask and pulled it close just as his eyes were going dim. The chaos in the plane’s cabin seemed a million miles away as his mind could only focus on one thought….get his phone out. If this was the end he wanted Mary and Grace to know he was thinking about them right up until the end. He fumbled in his pockets not knowing if up was down or down was up. His fingers searched for the power button and his final thoughts were simple and clear….”will this phone power up before we hit the ground”?

The left wing was so badly damaged by the engine that it too began to fail as the plane tilted and skewed toward The City in the Desert. Half of the wing sheared almost completely off, then flapped uselessly on one aluminum strut. The Pilot, who had put his mask on at the first sign of trouble screamed loudly into his mouthpiece. “We’re coming apart! We’re coming apart!” With the broken wing any semblance of control was gone and the plane began rotating on it’s axis as it hurtled toward the ground. Barely coherent, The Pilot pushed and prodded the controls…..for somewhere in his training he remembered to avoid casualties on the ground. His plane was spoken for…no one would survive…but he must not cause further damage to innocents on the ground.

The plane began spinning faster and faster. Mercifully, most of the people in the cabin had not had time to put on their oxygen masks and were unconscious..saving them the horror of what was about to unfold. The pilot desperately looked for an open space and at the very last moment of clarity he saw an unbelievable sight…..3 clear, bold white stripes that must signify the beginning of a runway. There would be fire trucks, ambulances…..and no one else would be hurt. As the fragile piece of wing finally broke loose he jammed the controls forward as the plane made it’s final death spiral toward those 3 White Stripes.

Mary and Grace waited intently, guessing as to what time their weekend of family fun would start. There came a noise so other worldly that Mary almost ran to the living room to see if somehow she had left the TV on to an inappropriate movie? The sound became louder and louder toward the back of the house as she raced toward the glass doors. Nearer and louder it became but because of the roof covering the patio…with those 3 White Stripes, she could see nothing. “That thing has to go” she thought as she tugged at the lock on the door to go into the backyard and figure out what had gone terribly wrong…..

Instantly there was a thunderous crash across the street in the park….and a huge ball of flame shot up toward the heavens. The heat singed Mary’s hair and eyes…nearly blind she backed away, and back toward The House with 3 White Stripes.

At the final moment the plane arced backwards away from the houses in The City in the Desert and obliterated the park across the street. 

Mary, fearing for her life grabbed Grace at the door and pushed them both back into the house. Confusion and fear racked her mind. Grace cried loudly as they moved toward the front door. There was a brief moment of silence when Mary's pounding heart slowed a beat or two, when she felt like things would be ok. Another noise began to trumpet more loudly than the last…...and just then, the broken section of wing that had saved the neighborhood from disaster came crashing down directly on top of The House with 3 White Stripes……

6.    The End?

The fireman walked slowly across the street. Joe was his name. His gear was covered in jet fuel, flame retardant, mud, and pieces of blood and bone that used to be passengers on the plane. He’d been at the park since the first call arrived. The scene was horrible…the stuff of nightmares. That there could be no survivors was evident upon arrival. There was barely a piece of the plane larger than a shoebox left. Miraculously the school had been spared anything but smoke damage and some flaming debris on the roof. No one in the park had been seriously injured as the plane fell to earth directly in the middle of the big field. The only other area of major damage was across the street, where Joe now walked. A piece of the plane, probably the wing, had fallen on a house. With the fuel tank encased within and heat from the fire in the park the wing had crushed the house and ignited another blaze on the spot. Firefighters were uncertain if anyone had been in the house, but neighbors were sure that at least the Mother and Daughter had been home at the time of the accident. That fire had been put out hours ago as Joe made one last sweep to check on his men before his shift would finally end.

He thought to check his watch to find thetime….2am? 3?  But decided against it. As he approached the remnants of the house he stepped upon a corner of wooden structure. Through the soot and ash he could see that it used to be white…or black…it almost looked striped. As his foot landed on the wood a small “ding” was heard that made Joe stop. He listened again for the digital call, wondering if it was his phone. “Ding”..once more Joe heard the sound and knelt down to rummage through the rubble.

He found it almost immediately. It was a cell phone….black now, but just a few hours earlier it would have been purple…or was it pink? A simple line was on the screen….a screen that Joe could not believe had survived the impact or the fire.

“1 New Message” it said…..

Joe hesitated….but something down deep told him to open the message…it simply read…

“I love you forever. Tell my little girl that Daddy’s coming home…..”

The time stamp was from 4:55pm…five minutes after the plane had crashed….

An ice cold shiver went through Joe at the thought that somewhere, a father was coming home to this. He tried to move….but something held him to the spot for a moment much longer than he suddenly wanted to be there.

Joe thought about holding the phone so it could be returned to the next of kin…but at the last moment he placed it back under the black and white corner of wood that used to be part of The House with 3 White Stripes.

Joe slowly walked alone back towards his truck. He would have been home hours ago to his wife and baby had this not happened. Now he would head home, and wash the death off of himself. He’d slip into bed next to his loving wife. The next day, even though he’d get little sleep, they’d go to the title company to close on their first house. A small, homey place just a few miles north of where he was now…that they’d been dreaming about buying for years. It was the perfect place to raise a family now that their baby daughter had been born.

Before Joe slipped into bed that night he’d go to his daughter’s room and give her a kiss and watch her breathe. After today he wanted desperately to see his family and to know they were safe. To be in the presence of his 3 month old daughter would calm him…and let him know that everything would be alright.

That girl was now his life. That baby who made herself known after 22 hours of labor…and still came out smiling was the light of his and his wife’s souls. They struggled to find a name that fit her….and finally only decided a day after she was born and they were struck by the simplicity of the task.

They name they chose for her, the only name that made sense, was…..Faith.

"Faith" said Joe faintly…."I'm coming home…."

The End.