when tomorrow never comes - scribd sub chap5_ when times were younger

7/31/2019 When Tomorrow Never Comes - Scribd Sub Chap5_ When Times Were Younger

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When Tomorrow Never Comes

Chapter 5

When Times were Younger.

My beginnings were humble and astute. As I have spoken, I wasraised on the north end of Boston called Charlestown; a quiet, sleepy,and homely plot where families had lived and died for generationsgone by. The streets were narrow and angled, barely allowing for twocars to travel side by side on. But it made for a tight and most intimatesetting from house to house. This is the world I have grown up in and Ihave always known. Some will say I am an ordinary man raised fromordinary beginnings. I would have to believe this to be most true aboveanything else.

My life as a child was as normal as any I suppose. I grew up in theshadows of the Red Sox struggling, and eventually falling to the Redsin a seven game world series. I remember staying with a friend of minewho lived close to Fenway, and his father and friends taking us to thatclimatic sixth game when Fisk hit the most gigantic blast over thegreen monster. Surely the Red Sox would win after that dramaticvictory. The sounds in that ballpark were deafening then, with theinitial hush as all the fans were perilously watching before the finalpitch was thrown. Then as the subsequent roar of the crowd liftedwhen that single ball was belted out, cleared the fence, and meant

victory for the Red Sox nation. It was like watching a warring heroreturn from battle as Fisk came rounding those bases for the final run.All was well in Red Sox land that night.

Jason Gum Winchester was his name; a friend from the start,and one who followed me through into my adult life. We called himGum because you never saw Jason without a stick of gum fumbling inhis mouth; as if it were rambling through and trying to steal some ofhis teeth. Others would quite often call him Stick because of hisgeneral stature and physique in those days, and that he only usedsticks of gum to chew on. He didnt enjoy this adjective too much so I

just stuck to Gum. There were times he must have been chomping 5or more pieces in his mouth at one chewing session. And in this case,his speech impediment became so great we could barely make out thewords he was speaking on.

Jason and I became very close during our early years. His fatherwas a firefighter, as was mine. Both were stationed at Charlestown for

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several years until Jasons dad was eventually transferred furthersouth, close to Fenway Park. On many days Jason and I would go afterschool, pack an evening supper; one that was quite easilytransportable, get to the local vacant field, pitch ball initially in catch,hit grounders to one another, then fast pitch in turns until darkness set

in.You want to pitch first? He would always ask.No, I came in simple response, You have to get me out-

remember?You always go first he shot back.You fussing again Gum? I was smarting at him, picking up two

bats, and swinging them about me.Well, I gotta learn how to hit in order to play.Youll get your turn, I assured him. And so this went time and

time again; me hitting all his best pitches.

See! That would have been a hit, I would say, as I shot afastball of his over the third base line.

No it wouldnt.Yes it would Gum! I refuted once more.Nope, he replied, I had my third baseman holding the lineits

late in the game.Youre taking an out away from me then, I suggested.Yep, he sent the next pitch hard at me while I stood in the

batters box, and he nearly taking the shirt off my chest.Ball, I cried.

Strike! He smiled.Ball! I insisted.Strike, he responded, The ump has a large strike zone.And he laughed and cackled on this. Next pitch came barreling

down into the box and I sent a whizzing shot right back up the middle,nearly taking Gum from the mound. He dove to save himself ratherthan stick his glove up to field with. I eyed his expression while hecleaned the dust off of his jersey.

Hit! I laughed, A lousy, fielding pitcher couldnt handle mycobra strike!

Two outs, he calculated, but his math was as poor as hisfielding skills.

One! I was more irritated this time.No, he quietly implored, Two. My shortstop had to cover

second on a count of the runner at first was stealing second.What runner? There was no one on

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Failed, he smirked, fell back, and tossed the ball straight up inthe air.

Terribly, I spit in my glove, rubbed the palm through, andsmelled the leather seep from the gloves joints. There is no hope forme now.

So what will your father do when he finds out?Not worried about him, its my mother.Shell give you trouble, I know...Trouble? Ill get horse whipped. Then she will tell my dad. Then

Ill get horse whipped again.You can call in sick to school the next day, he kept tossing the

ball straight up into the sky.Then let the butcher McEwing have her way with me - good! I

smarted back.How did you get her anyway? He missed the ball on one turn

and he shot out to retrieve it.You tush! I remarked, Dont you figure? Im in the Js-J, Ja,

Jamesss; youre in the Ws.you got Wilhelm; the push over. He wouldgive As to toilet paper if it walked into his classroom, sat in a desk,smiled, and asked smart questions. You have it easy Gum.

He drew into a serious expression there; his smile wiped cleanfrom his look; his eyes grew a cherry red color, No, I dont.

I stopped and said nothing right away. I could feel the wind blowbetween us with a hot summer gust that nearly choked us as it wentby.

How come you say this? I asked.He paused and seemed to be in a long, careful collection for his

words to come. He thought, spirited the silence in a sort of anticipationof something I had no clue of; for which appeared to burden himbeyond my own imagination of knowing it. There was a matter deepwithin him he had been holding for sometime; waiting, wanting tospurn it to my attention. A sort of silent calamity that is morepunishing to keep in secret and in hiding than to have the experienceof altogether. I could tell Gum would be cautious on his words; to tell,but not to tell so much for the mere release of it might give him as

much peril as he felt at that moment. This would be the bonding of ourlong-enduring relationship together.

You have good parents, he softly spoke.So do you, I replied, though he said nothing; kept to himself

and his silence, You do have good parents Gum.

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Some would say so, the implications were far reaching on thosewords.

And you wouldnt? I asked. I felt the silence from him again,Gum? I watched him pitch the ball up several more times, though hewould not take to look at me there.

You ever wanted to be someone else?What do you mean? I pressed.Like in another body; not start over. Just see the world in

another way. Somewhere else; be someone else.Dont suppose I have, I pondered for a moment.I have, I heard the ball snap and pop in his glove as it landed

very hard in the palm, A lot of times.But - why? I dared to ask.I was not thinking of what response might come next. But

thinking rather how hard it would be for my friend to tell me anything

at all in that moment.Swear, he spoke out one word.Swear? I echoed him back.Yes, swear, he bore down on me eye-to-eye, Swear; never to

tell; never.Swear to what? I was more lost in this.Swear! He grabbed me by the shoulders, pushed me down like

a big cat in play. He sat on top of me and would not let me up until Imade good on the promise, Swear, Josiah Conner James!or I wonttell.

I swear, I felt him loosen from me a bit and let me free to sit uponce more, Ok?.ok.

I felt the silence once again surround us and create a sort of eeriepresence in our conversation; one that would have the crowd atFenway Park in a hush if we were sitting in the outfield there.

Your dad, did he ever touch you?I was merely in my early teens at this juncture of my life, so there

was no measure of understanding on this statement, other than thesimple gestures a loving father would display to his son. My looktowards Gum gave all away. As if the oddity of what he said sought to

confound me more and more while my thoughts grew deeper on it.Touch you?I must have held a rather large question mark within my

expression there. One so large that it must have bent down on thearch and plunked ole Gum on the top of his head for having been sodinky in his ways.

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Yes, he was looking away, fumbling the ball about in circlesinside his glove, as if the world was rotating in his hand, Touch you.

What do you mean Gum?Touch you, his look shifted out of range behind me, then

deeper into left field, Isnt that normal?

My dad doesnt tuck me into bed anymore, I was laughing,thinking I had a revelation on what Gum was speaking of.

No tush! he shook me a bit and I could see the serious natureof his look spread all over me, Not like he touches mom, nor mysisters, but touches me. Sometimes, I dont think it is right - but I dontknow. Maybe seems most natural in other families, but it dont seemright to me. Sometimes I go home and Im afraid when I go to bed;hoping that bedroom door stays closed and never opens.

What happens when it does Gum? I became more serious then,thinking I was being spooked by a ghost, but not seeing it like you

would think it might scare one; there, late at night in the shiveringdarkness of a room and carrying with it an evening chill. But I felt itthen; as real to me as if the spirited hands shook my bed covers andbrushed against my shoulders in the empty black.

He comes.The air about us became deaf. I felt it keep me from speaking

directly until I could say only, What does he do?Touches me, he whispered, as a tear dropped down from his far

cheek, and dripped to his glove.How does he act? I inquired.

Real silent like, he quickly, though softly replied, as if he didntwant anyone to know; as if he might get caught.

What do you do?I nudged a little closer.I saw him look about the world like he had been just born in it; he

staring out and feeling like it wasnt the place for him. That somehowGod and fate had made a mistake to bring him about like this. It wasthe first moment I saw the horrible vulnerability in my good friendGum. Nothing would change our friendship. I knew this and so did he.Why else would he risk telling me? He was like a brother to me, and I a

brother to him. We had shared so much up to this point in our lives,and I knew Gum even better than my whispers knew what to say to mewhen I was alone; bored, and decided to talk to myself in an attempt tokeep me company. He was close to tears, but he fought it back as hardas he could. He was quite still while sitting next to me.

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I keep quiet, he paused, Still, another pause, and pretend alittle.

Pretend? I was supposing, not knowing what he would say nextto me, pretend

Like I am not there, he rubbed the ball hard into his open glove,

Like I am somewhere else.Like you wish to be; like you want to be.Only then though, he stopped, Not any other time.What does he say? I was reluctant to ask.I felt another hard gush of hot wind encircle between us and

move on. I could see by his corner stare this conversation wasbeginning to wear on him.

Dont that feel good son? His voice became soft as a babyscuddle sounds, And I dont answer.I never answer.

How long does this all last?

I tried to figure out the reasoning in all this. I had known Gumsfather as long as I had known my own. It was an impossibility for me tohave forethought all this, nor believe in an instant on the validity ofthis story. That is, until my good friend Gum told me on that fatefulsummer afternoon in the abandoned ballpark.

Few minutes, he stalled to think, Maybe more. I lose trackwhen I pretend.

Mother know? I asked.No, he was most hasty to answer.Sisters? I imposed once more.

No, he came again, Youre it Conner.I felt the weight of the world pass from his shoulders to mine all

in that second.We should tell someone, dont you think? I offered up to him.No! He snarled, and then he came back to some calm, It isnt

badbesides; I can pretend a little longer.I sat beside my friend Gum for sometime there and I said nothing

further on the subject. But just speculating inside my own thoughtshow a man can do this to his son. I wondered how Gum would do, nottelling, but believing to pretend was the answer to all the questions

he may have in the matter. All I knew was I would be his friend; thenand from there on-no matter what.

We sat close to one another for a little, yet we were more like twosand pebbles at the opposite ends of a twisting and winding desert.

The late sun torched us for a bit more as we watched it curl back over

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some of the citys nearby, elder buildings. That light dropped andsprayed everything into a seeming haze of gray, white, and black.

I saw a coach pull on by near to us, with a bride and groom onboard. They were toasting the beginning season to their marriage.

They laughed and carried on like two drunken fools in a stupor and a

merry brawl of joy. I heard the clomping steed spur into a gruntingsound, hesitate for a spell, and then continue on at the insistence ofthe on-board driver. I saw the groom look our way, smile, and toast usas the carriage was to pass us on by.

Good joy, young boys, he giggled like a silly schoolboy who hadjust had his first kiss in life. She, in turn, smiled, raised her glass in thesame sort of ceremonious salute to us boys of summer.

Think youll ever get married? I asked.I dont even like girls, Gum remarked and chomped on the

ancient, three-hour piece of gum, which by now must have been hard

as a rock between his teeth. I pushed him along with my glove,smirked a half-wrinkled smile as he turned on me; pushed me back,and off we went in a scattered dance along the sidewalks. We tried tocatch one another.

I nearly caught one boy on a bike when we turned the corner tothe soda shop. Old man McKenzie always had an empty stool or two forus to hop up on. I think they must have stood more than five feet tall,greased down with slippery oil, and nearly spun off their platforms. Ialways went first, being the better athlete, and then I would help Gumon board his own stewpot seat.

How is it chops? McKenzie would always ask. He was rubbingdown a dingy, ten year-old glass with a rag I even wouldnt wash mydog with, Hey, check out the rug.

Nice dooooo there Mr. McKenzie, I replied while I watched himflip up his hairpiece just a bit. He smiled and winked out a happyexpression our way.

Dooooooo, Gum followed to say behind me.Best threads this side of Manhattan, he quirked, Shaved my

dog last night from tip to tail.Glad you did it in the summertime. I said, Itll take a good six

months for Chip to get his coat back.Are you economizing on the restoration project Rock? An old

man beside us said, pushed out his empty soda glass as if to ask foranother. Mr. McKenzie snickered and groped a laugh, though hisexpression told us he didnt like the old tart too much.

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Cheaper than water, he poured out another dark soda for theguy, but better than wine. He looked our way, Whatll it be chops?

Cream soda, I said first.Butter Scotch Waltz, Gum mumbled his reply that sounded

more like, Butha Scocth Woo.

They teaching him English in school, Mr. McKenzie frowned onthat suggestion, or Gaelic?

English, I responded.Then spare me on the translation, he bent his ear closer to me

with a light-hearted gesture.Butter Scotch Waltz, I was much clearer than my counterpart;

as we both looked on Gum. Gum was grinning ear-to-ear like a wet dogcaught with chocolate piece sticking through his gapping smile.

Well listen boy, Mr. McKenzie looked Gum square in the eye,near to the point I thought Gum might very well digest that huge wad

of gum laced in his mouth, clean through to his stomach, You gotacne in the mouth?

Noaa, was Gums simple reply.Can you spit?Noaa.Can you swallow?Gum gulped a try, but failed, Noaa.Seems like your going to lose your teeth before they come in

completely. Dont you know gum is terrible for your teeth?Noaa, Gum shrugged his shoulders, and looked about.

Well, Mr. McKenzie shrugged his shoulders in a mockingmanner, Now you know. Cant say youre ignorant on that fact now,can you?

Noaa, the gum seemed to protrude from his mouth, and gapefrom the hole in the middle of his face. Mr. McKenzie took an old,seemingly tired glass and stuck it under Gums chin. There was apause.

Come now boy, Mr. McKenzie urged, Spit. shaking that glassin fine fashion. I heard that huge tumor of gum topple from Gumsmouth and into the bottom of that glass.

Now, Mr. McKenzie winked, Dont you feel better?Gum shifted his eyes back and forth, No.Keep on the chew, and you can take that nickname of yours

most literal then. Try gumming a tomato sandwich?Gum said nothing, but remained quiet.

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Without warning Mr. McKenzie pulled his false teeth out andplopped them full-face on the counter in front of us.

I have!He smiled without a single tooth to show for it. To Gums horror I

saw his brow grow to a sweat there; his eyes roll white and nearly hide

in his head; his hands shiver; his tongue leap back into his throat, andhe nearly choke in front of me. I surely thought Gum had seen theghost of the Almighty there as we sat.

Hee hee! It isnt a pretty sight!I stuck my nose in that cream soda of mine as I burst out a laugh.

It was echoing through the glass as my eyes were tearing so hard fromthe uncontrollable humor of it all. So much so that Gum took exceptionto even a whisper I might have spoken then, though I kept my gigglesencased in the glass and I never looked to eye on him; not once.

Whats so funny? he pushed me nearly off my seat.

Looks like you saw a gremlin there Chops, Mr. McKenziegrinned out an empty, black grin; winked on Gum with a flirty wave,then picked up his teeth, clapped them a couple of times near Gum,and said, Chops! Chops!

You have a glass eye too? Gum snorted.Your friend doesnt take pardon to much ribbing does he?Mr. McKenzie nudged me and began to talk about Gum as if he

were not present there. I had been to this soda shop on numerousoccasions and over time I had discovered the off-brand humor andnotorious manners of the owner himself. He was always full of life; a bit

of a gabber, but he held such a way with happiness that it seemed tofollow him wherever he went. Gum had only managed to be presentwith me once before in that shop, but Old man McKenzie had a recitalto attend to that afternoon for his granddaughter.

It took a bit of adjustment and warming up to for Gum, though asthe day drew out further and the city lights caught a glimmer and light,Old man McKenzie had Gum in laughter before too long. The soda shopwas a merry place and I always found enjoyment there whenever Iwent in.

It was time for us to leave as my mother would take to worry on

Gum and I; that is if we were too much later than we already were. Igave McKenzie my see you soon and my promises to return verysoon. We darted out the glass door and onto the sidewalks. We passedon several blocks and we found refuge in the streets close to my home.I gathered up a stick the size of a baton, kicked it around the openstreets a bit and then tossed it back and forth for the rest of our

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journey home. Gum and I passed it out around while we hit theroadsides and made it slightly rattle with a kind of warping, saw sound.

Then we plucked a few picket fences along the way which nearly mademy teeth chatter when we did as much.

We were in bed before too long. Gum took to a sleeping bag on

the floor and I lying in my single bed with the loft window just aboveme, opened halfway. The curtains were twisted and rung by the windas I watched them when they danced just above me and to my right. Icould hear the hollow sounds of cars with bad brakes rattle down mystreet, come to the stop sign and wheeze from the nearly worn downpads to the rotors. Every once in a while sirens would go off as theparamedics and police made off on their duties; and others, I couldhear mumble sounds of people conversing on the walkways, across thestreet, and in the outlaying cars with the windows rolled down.

You think you will ever get married? I heard Gum whisper up to

me.I dont know, I said. I was still watching the twirls of those

curtains; my hands propping my head up, I suppose some day I might.Never thought about it too much myself.

Girls, I could tell he was still in defiance of that gender, andthen he grunted, Girls.

Gracie Fran thinks youre a peach.Yuck! He spat out that vile medicine.She does, I smiled, Really.Girls, he swore on it once more. Then a pause and silence

came; I knew we were thinking the same thing.Conner? He spoke back in his whisper again. I could feel him

get on his knees and lean on the side of my bed and look out thewindow on the unknown world with me, Thanksfor today.

I said nothing, though I looked square on him down at the edgepost of my bed.

Whatever I can do Gum, I finally spoke.He reflected on this in that moment, though I knew he was most

reluctant at replaying what passed between us a second time. Harshmemories, even so fresh, are hard to digest. There was no need to

dwell further on their meaning. Our silent pact remained. We were toremain friends through it all, no matter what.

Gum retired back to his sleeping bag. Soon I could hear thegurgling sounds of his snoring resonate through the lower portions ofmy room. The hallway light cut past the little sliver of door-opening my

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room allowed through and I could see someone peering in on us forjust a moment.

I myself thought of this time, with the deep melodies of this nightdropping down beyond the draws of my window. Like a cushion pillowto my mind, I spent away into my sleep by accident; into a dream only

meant to keep me company until the new day dawned on the otherside of that night.

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Coming Soon

Coming is the new novelA Diarys House.

Landon Hampshire never knew that the boyhood adventure he took

with his friends would ever yield the incredible journey he

ultimately experiences - going down the mysterious and mighty

Randola River. It is a ravaging, mighty, heaving frenzy of water

which has taken the lives of so many; those who dared to travel

within its waters. At the base of the Randola is an island even more

mysterious than the Randola itself.

Born in the vast and looming mountains of North Carolina during

the 1870s, Landon always remembered the folklore and legendary

tales about the people of the Kituhwa (Cherokee). Incorporating the

aid of an eccentric old French trapper (old man Montague), their

initial belief was to discover treasure and become men in the eyes of

those within their immediate township. But what Landon will

eventually come to discover is more than he ever bargained for.

The island releases many of its mysterious, yet even many more are

created when Landon discovers on the island a diary of a young

woman who lived forty years during the 1830s (Trail of Tears). The

diary entries are hopeful, though haunting, and show, in intimate

detail, the life and dreams of this very special young girl who is

turning into a woman of beauty and adventure. Her story unfolds

through the reading of her diary, and Landon suddenly finds himself

caught up in a sweeping, empowering world of re-invention and

ultimate redemption.

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A Diarys House is about love, lost love, and the hope that dreams,

even those in the latest time of life, can come true. It is of a young

boys attempt to become a man, the once-lost secrets of a diary, a

sweeping romance which transcends time and place. It is more thana boys journey into manhood, but the mysteries of so many lives

unknowingly intertwined, now brought together in a climatic

ending; all from the engrossing world embedded in a forgotten

diary; a diary of a woman.

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when tomorrow never comes - scribd sub chap5_ when times were younger

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