One of These Days

Hello fellow readers and writers... What follows is a short, short stroy I submitted for a writing contest last week. Tell me what you think, and it's a first place entry...

ONE OF THESE DAYS

 

One of these days, I'm going to learn to ride a bike.  And swim.  And snorkel.  I thought about learning to scuba dive once, for about fifteen seconds.  I don't like the idea of being one hundred feet underwater, weighted to the bottom of the ocean, plastic regulator in my mouth, and my sole life support strapped to my back.  Also, the fins are very un-fashionable.

 

When I was growing up, my little brother suffered from leukemia, and we spent all our time in the hospital.  Because we spent most of our lives within the sterile walls of an institution, I didn't get to learn things like other kids did, and we sat inside the hospital or our house and played indoor games.  Because of that, I am a killer poker player, I always win at Monopoly, I rule at video games and I'm a master Scrabble-anarian.  My brother was always good at keeping me entertained, and he too was a great game player.  He was very competitive and always wanted to win and I loved playing with him.  Most of the time I would win, but sometimes he would get lucky and beat me by hundreds of points.  He was two years younger than me, and I loved him dearly.  From the time he was two, until he died at twelve years old, we were inseparable and always together.  When he went for treatment, I went too.  When he was sick, so was I.  My mother was always worried I would take on his illness as my own.  I wish I could have.

 

Living with a younger sibling with a known killing disease is... not easy.  There are times when I wished him to get better, and knew God would cure him.  Other times, in the weaker moments of my young life, I wished God would just take him away, so I didn't have to be the girl in school with the sick brother.  I wanted to be Effie - the girl who could ride faster, run quicker and out jump every kid on the block.  Not someone everyone felt sorry for.  Sometimes I look back on those dark days and wish I could erase them from my memory, and I feel so ashamed I thought those things.  What was wrong with me?  Though after a few counseling sessions I began to realize those thoughts and feelings were normal for any kid growing up in a household such as ours.  Today, I'm much clearer on the feelings and impressions and why I felt that way.

 

My younger brother was dying in a horrible and devastating way, and my adolescent brain could not comprehend the travesty of it.  I suppose, in some way, I have survivor's guilt, because he got sick, and I didn't.  You know - life is not really fair.  It sucks sometimes.  But we all learn that lesson at some point in our lives.  I just learned mine in a different way than someone else would.  I learned it though the suffering and death of my brother, and the fact I had to watch him go through it.  I loved him, and I hated him at the same time.  I'm still trying to reconcile these two feelings together, even after so many years.

 

I'm thirty-nine now, married and have kids of my own.  Luckily, all of us are happy, healthy and thriving.  But I still don't know how to ride a bike.  On the rare occasion Charles was able to leave the hospital and we were home, I would watch the neighbor kids ride their bicycles up and down our street, flaunting their freedom.  Man, was I jealous they were able to do it, and didn't have sick little brothers at home. 

 

Wendy Wakefield's bike was the best.  She had a Schwinn Stingray with a girl's frame, a banana seat, a sissy bar, and basket on the front.  Sometimes she would put her puppy or books and stuff in her basket and ride all over the neighborhood.  I loved the way her hair and skirt floated and blew in the breeze as she peddled by.  Boy, did I want to be her!  One of the other girls even had a horn on her bike; honking at me, as I glared out the window.  I wanted a bike with a horn.

 

Sometimes, when Charles was feeling up to it, we would go downtown to the little shops and wander around.  I think mom felt the fresh air would do us good, and in hindsight, she was right.  We loved to walk up and down Main Street and ogle all the stuff in the windows and pretend we would buy those things some day.  Of course, we knew we never would, but hey, we liked to dream and delude ourselves.

 

As we sat and watched the world go by, eating dripping ice cream cones, Wendy rode by on her Schwinn and stuck out her tongue.  Man, I hated her!  But I loved her bike.  As she passed I noticed her long blond hair rippling in the wind, and I was so envious.  If I could run fast enough, I could catch her and pull her off her Schwinn by that long blond hair of hers, and then I would steal it and ride far, far away.  But I never moved from my seat.  I just sat and stared at her retreating back, and listened to the voices and calls of the other kids.  I even heard the honk of a horn on the next block over.

 

My brother noticed my sad face and tried to comfort me the best he could.  "Don't worry, Effie; you'll get to ride some day."  He looked sad too, because he knew the reason I didn't ride, was because of him.  He tried to talk me into going out a few times, but I refused to leave his side, and he finally gave up.  After all these years, I've finally realized, he wanted to ride too, but he always put me first.  I wish I would have been a better big sister, and recognized his sad face for what it was.  Regret.  Longing.  Desire for a bike of his own.  I feel selfish - I never even considered what he wanted.  I'm sure he wanted to grow up, have a family, a job, and learn to ride a bike.  And swim, and snorkel.  I'm sure he would have been up for scuba diving.  I would have loved to see him do that.  I often wonder what kind of man he would have been.  I'm sure he would have been a great dad and a wonderful husband.  My heart breaks everyday because of the illness and death of my little brother.  He suffered so much in his short life, and my heart has an empty place for him which will never be filled.

 

After he died, and his funeral had come and gone, it was just me, mom and dad.  I was fifteen, going on twenty-two.  I had never been without him, and now all the sudden I was on my own.  I discovered boys, high school, music, the world outside a hospital ward, and a wonderful thing called a best friend.  She had other friends, and I became part of their group.  We laughed, talked, giggled and figured out about life with each other.  They asked me lots of questions about Charles, and his illness and what it was like growing up with someone so ill.  I told them about blood counts, chemotherapy, the aftermath of a serious illness and what it does to a family, and I told them about his death, and what it did to me.  I felt as if my heart was ripped from my body, and I would never live to see another day. 

 

But time went on, and I eventually ventured outside and joined the living again.  But, I never once thought about my parents, and their pain.  I never considered their feelings about losing a child.  Their only son was dead and buried, and they were left with only me.  Wow.  Now that I am a mother myself, I realize what that must have done to them.  To their marriage.  Man, was I stupid.  I guess it takes some growing up to figure out life.

 

Over the years, I thought about all the stuff I missed while growing up.  By the time Charles had died, I was already moving onto other things.  Like I said, boys being the biggest.  I didn't have time to learn to ride a bike, or learn to swim.  I had forgotten about Wendy and her Schwinn Stingray, and the girl with the horn.  I had put all that stuff behind me, and I was moving forward with my life.  I discovered a whole different world out there, and that world didn't include doctor visits and hospital stays.

 

When I was in college, my roommate asked me if I wanted to learn to ride her bike.  I took one look at the ten speed, with all the gears and confusing levers, and decided against it.  I didn't think I would get the hang of it.  That was the last time I thought about it.

 

Until now.  Until this morning, I hadn't even considered throwing my leg over the seat of a bike.  My kids learned to ride when they were young, thanks to my wonderful and patient husband.  He learned to ride at eight years old, and he is very adept at teaching.  He instructed both of them, and they learned within days.  I thank God for him everyday.  He's taught them so much.  And me.  He's taught me so many different things I'm amazed and grateful for. 

 

This morning, I woke up, staggered into the kitchen for coffee, and slumped at the table.  His eyes were bright as he handed me a cup, and pointed for me to sit.  This was unusual.  He does not normally have such a happy face in the morning.  I vaguely wonder what's going on, but my mind is fuzzy and my brain is not awake yet.

 

"Effie."  He says, more of a statement, than anything else.  My eyes slowly track to his face, and he is grinning from ear to ear.  "Today is your fortieth birthday!"  He exclaims.

 

I just look at him, with no expression.  Where is he going with this?

 

"The kids and I got you a very special present."  He says, barely containing his glee.  Man, I've never seen him like this.  My brain starts to clear, and I wonder what he's got up his sleeve?

 

The kids tumble into the kitchen, and are smiling.  I should have turned forty a while ago!  "What's up guys?" I question.  Now, I'm really starting to wonder what is going on.

 

All three of them stand there, grinning the biggest smiles I've ever seen, and Jonathan, the littlest one, is unable to hold still.  "Mommy, we got you the best present ever!"  He shouts, clapping his hands together.  My husband puts a steadying hand on his shoulder and looks down at him.

 

"Hold on now Jonathan.  Let mommy finish her coffee."  His eyes bright and dancing.  None of them could contain their joy.  Even my fifteen year old daughter, whose favorite past time is rolling her eyes at me, is grinning widely and she looks positively overcome with delight.

 

My curiosity gets the best of me, and I look at all three of them.  One after the other.  My husband is about to come out of his skin.  My son cannot stand still, hopping from one foot to the other.  My daughter has put her phone in her pocket, and has removed her ever present ear buds from her ears, and they too are in her pocket.  Well now, this is something.

 

Who knew my fortieth birthday would bring this kind of togetherness to my family.  Like I said, I should have turned forty years ago. 

 

"Ok, mommy.  You're done with your coffee.  Right?"  Jonathan squeals as he tugs on my hand.  "We have something for you."  He practically pulls me from my chair with his little hands, and my daughter is laughing and helping him.  My husband is standing behind them, and winks at me.

 

"They were both so excited when I told them what we were getting you."  He smiles.  "I can't believe they kept a secret all this time."

 

"I tried real hard, mommy."  Jonathan says looking up at me with obvious pride in his eyes.  "I wanted to tell you so many times, but daddy said it would make a better present for you, if I didn't say."  Oh man.  It must be something really special, if Jonathan promised to keep his mouth shut.

 

Now my curiosity is really piqued.  What could it be?  Jewelry?  A new car?  Maybe a trip to some foreign country?  I don't think so.  They would never be this excited over a trip to Jamaica.

 

"Ok, ok."  I say, feeling jubilant at their expressions.  "I give up.  What is it?"  I ask turning my attention to my husband.  "Is it a new car?"

 

"No mommy, it's better than a new car!"  Jonathan screeches. 

 

"Yeah, mom.  Better than a new car.  Something you said you've always wanted.  Finally we're going to give it to you."  Jennifer, my sulky teenage daughter says.  Wow, first time in months she hasn't been pouting.  It must be something really special.  My heart skips a few beats.

 

"I've no idea what it is!"  I exclaim.  Now I'm excited, and really want to know what my whole family is all worked up over.  "Where is it?"  I ask glancing around my kitchen.  I haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary lately.  I haven't seen any packages laying  around, or any unexplained charges on our credit card statement.  I'm clueless, and excited, and I really want to know what it is.

 

"Close your eyes."  Jonathan says.  As I do, he takes my hand, Jennifer takes my other hand, and they lead me down the few steps out of the kitchen and across the hall.  I hear the door to the garage open, and they push me through.  My husband tells me to step down the five steps to the garage floor, and I know whatever my present is, it's in here.

 

I was just in here last night, and I didn't see anything.  Now I'm really wondering what's going on.  I can't contain my curiosity any longer.  "Can I open my eyes now?"  I ask, hoping they'll say yes.

 

"Yes, Effie, open your eyes."  My husband whispers in my ear, standing behind me.

 

My eyes open and I glance around our garage.  I don't see anything at first.  But then I notice Jonathan a little to my left jumping up and down.  Behind him I see something bright pink.  And something white.  And something glittering in the light. 

 

A bicycle!  A beautiful bright pink bicycle is sitting in my garage!  Oh my God.  It has a basket!  And a horn!  And rainbow streamers coming from the handle bar grips!

 

"You got me a bicycle?"  I scream, clapping my hands together.  I jump up and down a couple times, and turn to my husband and throw my arms around his neck.  "I can't believe you got me a bike!"

 

"Jenny and I helped pick it out.  Jenny picked the color, and daddy put it together.  I helped." Jonathan said, looking serious.  "Isn't it beautiful?"

 

My eyes tear up and I look at my family, and I can't believe they were able to keep this secret.  I take a few steps toward it and I really begin to cry.

 

"It's beautiful, you guys."  I gush at them.  "Just exactly what I would have picked out for myself."

 

I step over to look closer.  The design looks familiar, but I can't place it. 

 

"Schwinn came out with an adult version of the Stingray a few years ago.  Three months ago I bought this on-line and had it shipped to work.  My boss approved the spending on the company credit card, and I was able to pay it back with payroll deductions, so you never suspected anything."  My husband said, beaming at me.  "Jonathan and Jenny helped pick the color and accessories.  We had such fun."

 

"Yeah mom."  Jenny said.  "Who knew surprising your mom with a bike would be so exciting."  She said smiling.  My heart is full, and I am speechless.

 

My very own bike.  Complete with white basket with a flower on it, a horn and streamers.  In the basket is a pink and white helmet which looks just my size.  I pull it out of the basket and place it on my head.  My beautiful husband steps over and fastens the strap under my chin.  

 

"Ok, are you ready to learn?"  He asks as he flips up the kick stand and starts to wheel it out of the garage.  "No time like the present."  He calls over his shoulder.

 

My heart starts to beat fast, and I can't believe I'm actually going to learn to ride a bike.  I always said one of these days I would learn.  Looks like today is the day.

 

This is for you, Charles.  Wish you were here.

 

Next up - Swimming!