Red

It was the sound of his footsteps.  She could hear him approaching, the uneven stutter step he adopted on carpeting, liking the way his feet moved across it, the static electricity it would build.  He always remained silent up until that last moment.  “HELLO!”

In her ear, it was in her ear.  He always said it in her ear, liking the way she jumped, his face splitting in a toothy grin, spit collecting in the corner of his mouth. He laughed, putting his hands to his face to cover his eyes so he could have his joy without her expression.

“Hey buddy.”  She’d reply as she waited for him to drop his hands.  It was noon and already she was cutting her teeth on her first glass of wine.  The red coated the inside of her mouth and lacquered her lips like an alcoholic lip-gloss.

“RED.”

“Yes, it’s red.”  She pushed the glass away from him with her fingers, keeping it from his reach and hopefully out of eyesight.

“WHAT YOU DOING?”  He would ask, tilting his head, eyes now open and blinking, the light of the lamp causing him distress as he came out of the dark.

“Thinking.”  She replied as she took another sip, eyes flicking to the window once more.  His parking spot was still empty, neatly numbered and directly in front of his town house.  Well, empty in the sense that his car did not fill it.  However, it was smattered with leaves and puddles – refuse of fall; pavement pockmarked and waiting.

“WHAT?”  He tilted his head, demanding her attention by putting his hands on the sides of her face and looking intently at her.  His vision was flawed and glasses were untenable.  He refused to wear them, screaming if they were put on his face.  His blue eyes blinked at hers, so out of focus but intent.

“No.”  She had to set the glass down on the table.  The word, issued without much force was a tired reminder.  She didn’t have the strength to be stern today.  “You can’t touch people like that.”  She reminded him, her voice a sigh. It was like talking to a dog, voice implied everything, words almost inconsequential.

It was not shocking when his hands didn’t move.  “SORRY.”

His hearing was impaired as well.  They were unsure if it had to do with his condition as a whole or just an unfortunate accident.  Hearing aids went the way of glasses and so the television in the other room was as high as it would go, boys and girls singing.  He would sing too, at the top of his lungs, as loud as he could manage.

Usually that would make her smile.  Today, however, was a different sort of day and he was a bit more than she could handle.  “Ty.  Please.”  She reached up to take his thick wrists in her fingers and gently pull his hands from her face.  He was getting big, bigger than her – a teenager now.  It was hard, often, to reconcile HIM with his age.

It took a tug but he relented and let her bring his hands down, then jerked them away.  Sometimes, he liked to be touched.  Other times he wore the awkwardness of his stuttered development.  “GO OUTSIDE?”

“No, it’s raining.”  Her voice found the sternness as she shook her head.  It was November and the season, compounded by the presence of the great lake, always brought high winds.  The trees rapped against the windows, leaves sticking like prints.  It was mid-day and already it was dark, clouds pillowed on top of one another, black and bruised.

“PLEASE?”  He pressed his wide face close again mouth no longer smiling but a thick line of unhappy lips.  “I BE GOOD.”  His hands were on his red hair, flattening the soft spikes down as his palms dragged down from the crown to his ears.

“I know Ty.  I know.  Just not today.”  She shook her head, brushing her hair from her face with trembling fingers.  Patience.  She knew from the doctors, the books, and other caretakers it took dedication and the ability to understand what they could not understand.  Sometimes, it hurt her head.

“IT WET.”  He pointed a thick finger at the window and while bent over her, pressed his face close to the glass to see out.  

 “Yes.  It is wet.”  Dark.  Wet.  Dreary.  The season brought little happiness and while Halloween had just passed and Thanksgiving loomed there was an atmosphere of timelessness – as if this could all go on forever.  She realized, dimly, that she was afraid it would all go on.

“RED!”  The grin reappeared, causing his jaw to drop making his white teeth visible, freckles crinkling under skin with the effort of expression.  “CAR!”  He pointed with enthusiasm, blunting his finger again and again at the window.  He did it harder and harder, as if that would make his point all the more evident.

She turned her head and leaned forward, glasses knocked sideways by his withdrawing arm.  His movements are always harder than he meant them to be.  Her eyes watered as she found herself squinting through the pain and splattered raindrops, beyond Ty’s finger.

She stood then, jerkily and made her way to the door.  “Stay inside.”  She directed, needlessly as she shoved her feet into her shoes, stubbing her toe slightly and wincing, eyes watering more.  She brushed her hair back and up for it to only fall down again as she thrust her arms one at a time through her sweater.  “Watch T.V.”

He watched her, sitting down on the floor now, eyes wide.  He picked up on the oddest things.  She could talk to him for hours, trying to get ideas across, into him instead of just floating between them, but times like these, the words seemed to click into place with the world around him, an intersection where his brain could pick up on the signals his world was giving him with starling clarity.  He didn’t respond audibly, just nodded his head and crawled back to the television.

She stared at him for a moment and then pulled the heavy door open and pushing the screen door wide.  Once she passed it snapped together with a startling sound that held her up for a second before she made her way ahead.

The wind tugged at her hair and clothes, pulling them away from her as she made her way to his stoop.  He was already out of his car and half way up the steps to his front door, briefcase in hand, open jacket blowing in the wind.

He always looked so thoughtful, his glasses low on his nose as he fumbled for the right key, jacket blown half off of his shoulder, briefcase in the other hand.  His black shoes glistened with rain while muddy footprints tracked his halted progress.

“Harold!”  She found herself yelling as she made her way across the street, looking for cars down her left before crossing.  She pulled the sweater back up, gripping it with a white knuckled fist.  Instead of wine, all she could taste was the rain upon her lips, water gathering, making the urge to lick irresistible.  Licking turned to biting and on top of being drenched she was a sight when she reached him.

“Bernice?” He stopped trying to get in and blinked at her. 

“You said you’d be home ours ago.”  She found herself biting her lips more, but for different reasons now.  “I waited.  I waited all afternoon.”

“I had a last minute meeting with the Dean.”  He shook his head.  “I can’t really talk. Janice is home.”  He gestured to the car, down the street, jacket flapping in the wind as consequence.

“I thought we could talk just a bit.”  Her eyes watered again and she let her sweater go, pushing her fingers underneath her glasses to rub them clear.  “I wanted some time with you.”

Harold sighed.  “This is going to have to end.  This can’t continue.”  He looked down at her and made a move to touch her but retracted the motion.

“She’ll know.”  She swallowed thickly and stepped back though all she wanted to do was step forward, was to hold him.

“Yes, Bernice.  I can’t do what you want me to do.  I can’t help you.”  He gestured to her home and then blinked.  “Oh.”

She was going to say something, something in reproach, lifting her head, lips parting until she followed his arm with her eyes, then her head.  Ty was in the lawn, dancing in the rain, tumbling through the leaves, laughing hysterically.

How could she have missed his laugh?

There was an exhausted sigh,  “He’s making a mess of the yard, Bernice.”  

“Harold.”  She looked back at him and realized the person she saw a moment ago wasn’t there anymore.  She let her mouth shut and turned her back to him and walked down the steps carefully.  With a quick look she made it back to the lawn to find Ty covered in leaves and mud, happily slapping his hands, making noises in the ruin of their small front yard.

“RED.”  He looked up at her and pointed at her lips.  

She licked them, tasting rust and nodded her head.  “Yes.  Red.  Let’s go inside.”  She offered him her hand and he took it, using it to pull his large body upwards, almost pulling her down in the process.

Once upright, he kept a hold of her hand as they went inside, feet squishing on the steps, clothing drenched and in varying states of muddy, the rain enough to make them wet but not quite enough to wash them clean.