The Mind's Gift - Short Story II

[marinegagnonsf.livejournal.com]

This is my second short story for "Bustin' June." I used said inspiration site for the idea, but didn't really use it in the end. It gave me my plot, sure, and a few ideas. But woah, what my brain came up with. I love it, and I hope you love it too! 2300 words.


The Mind's Gift

It was before the war, the great one. She remembered that. Alice remembered every little detail of that night. She knew the whole story, because her husband told it to her before he died. It was very important she knew the whole story. Alice picked up her pen, like she did most recent days, with a shaky hand. What if her memory went before she could finish? Fear. It poured from her skin and filled the room with a transparent, syrupy substitute for air.



Winn was station in Pearl Harbor. It was his last weekend as a sailor. He wanted to have a good time, as all young men do I imagine. He was from New York originally, and yearned for nothing more than the smell of a dingy theater. Early that Saturday morning, he woke up and dressed up in his whites, ready to hit the town running. The Footlights Theater Company was just off base, and he wanted to catch the matinée of “Arsenic and Old Lace.” He knew the performance wouldn't be Broadway, no one can replace Boris Karloff, but he was looking forward to it.

Ten o'clock, and he was already in the heart of off base life. He was probably looking for a girl, but I don't like to think about those things. It was before us, anyway. I imagine him dressed in his uniform, doing capers in the street, and singing with all the local children. Winn did love children. Though his singing voice wasn't as great as Gene Kelly's, he could have given his soft-shoe a run for his money.

After a good lunch of fish and chips Winn checked his watch, and started to make his way to the theater. On his way, he ran into the strangest character, a man, on the street with a blanket spread out.

“Aloha Sailor,” said the man.

“Howdy.”

“Oh, paniolo!”

“No, I'm not a cowboy,” Winn laughed. “I've just seen too many John Wayne flicks.”

“Ah, but you're still paniolo to me.”

“What are you selling, friend?”

“`a`a.”

“Aah,” said Winn, trying to be funny. He was never good a jokes. “Why should I pay you for a rock?”

“Kanalima keneta,” the man said.

“Fifty cents!!” Winn smacked his forehead. “Why so much?!”

“Pele's curse.”

“You're volcano goddess?”

“Yes, Pele is a fierce woman. Not many dare to buy, so I must charge more.”

“It's a ridiculous price...I mean, for a rock.”

“It is ridiculous to buy.”

“Then why sell them?”

“Have no other choice, paniolo. Haole take them, destroy Pele. Me, I know how to care for her. She won't cure those she provides for.”

“But fifty cents.”

“Pays for bento and saimin, which is all I need.”

Then, something came over Winn. He could never describe it to me, but the man had convinced him to buy one. It was a third of his money for the evening, but something told him he was going to need this special rock the man was selling him. Winn flipped the smooth stone in his hand a few times, and put it in his pocket.

“Pray with the stone. Pomaika'i.”

“I don't need it, friend,” Winn gave the man his earnest smile. “I'm being discharged on Monday.”

“Aloha a hui hou, paniolo.”

“I don't think that will ever happen, friend. I don't think I'll be back here again.”

“`a'ohe lokomaika'i i nele i ka pan'i.”

“Friend, I think you may help me out more than I've helped you.” I think Winn made that part up. He was such a romantic.

I dream about how happy Winn was that afternoon, on his way to the theater. I see him skippy down the street. People stop and stare...he doesn't even notice them. And he would tell you it was because of the stone in his pocket. This was going to be the best show he's ever seen. He'd be ruined for Broadway after seeing this performance. He'll want to take up a flat here, and never leave the marvelous troupe.

And that's what almost happened. I chuckle to think of the expression on his face when he described to me that show. He was spellbound. The young actor who played Karloff's part was brilliant. He said it made the plastic surgery more believable. “You know, he looked like Karloff in the end.” Winstone said to me. “ Just like Frankenstein.”

Winn was so enraptured by the kid, he waited for him at the stage door.

The kid looked a lot different off stage and out of makeup. His brownish hair brought out his blue eyes, which Winn even noticed from his seat in the theater.

“Congratulations on your performance tonight!”

“Congratulations? Is that a compliment?”

Winn slapped the kid on the back. “You had me rolling in my seat,” he said. “I just thought I'd offer you a drink.”

“Thank you, I'm not interested.”

“Oh, come on friend, you can't say no to a drink.”

“I believe I just have.”

“Are you really going to deny a sailor his good time on the last weekend he's in town?”

“I've heard that line too many times, fella.”

Winn didn't know what the kid meant until years later. I don't think Winstone knew about homosexuals until very late in life. He was so sheltered, so innocent, even in the end. He grew up with three brothers, and his years in service gave him a strong sense of brotherly love. A pat on the back, a drink, good conversation, and, I'm sure, looking at the ladies, was a common practice he's held every now and then. All men are brothers, really. Even the homosexual ones.

“I can't accept that answer, friend. You have to let me treat you. I have just enough for a good row in a bar, and then a cab home. There's a bar down the street. Come on, what do you say?”

“Would you let me go home if I had just one drink with you?”

“That's all I was asking?!” Winn flung his arms out, and slapped the kid on the back again. “Name's Winn.”

“Buddy,” said the kid.

“You from here?”

“I'm visiting with friends. I got the job here, because my friend is in the company. I'm from Chicago.”

“When do you plan on going back?”

“Can we not talk about me?”

“Sorry friend, I'm just curious. Could you recite some lines from something? I'm just fascinated by your instrument.”

Buddy guffawed, which Winstone always found amusing. “You're either an idiot or insane.”

“I'm probably both,” Winn offered the first bar stool to the kid, and ordered two beers. “Just for me. It's my last night in town, come on.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Anything, surprise me.”

Buddy took his time. He closed his eyes, and breathed deeply. Winn imagined it was something he did every night before going on stage. It was the kid's little ritual, when he became someone else, and evoked the personality and life of this other.

“Autumn lips, a season of bliss, where there is no past behind you.

In front of you is the key, blindness cured, we know what we'll find there.

Out by the sea, where the otters roam free, and the moment will stretch out before you.”

Winn watched the kid close his eyes again, as if the presence of the other was lifting from him. Buddy opened his eyes and looked into Winn's eyes. Winn felt anxious. He didn't know what to say. It was pure romance...the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. He's told the words to many actors of poets over the years, but none could recite it with the power he had heard Buddy deliver it.

“What was that from?”

“I wrote that,” said Buddy.

“I...I don't know what to say.”

“Unfortunately, that's usually the effect I get from it. Actually, all my poems. That's why I stopped writing them. Anyway, it's been fun.”

“No, I meant I liked it so much...” Winn grabbed the kid's hand to stop him.

The boy just looked at Winn's hand over his. “I don't know what's wrong with you, Sailor, but something is definitely wrong.”

“It was wonderful, really.”

“Thank you,” the kid said. “Now can I have my hand back?”

“Will you sit down?”

“Why?!”

“My unit doesn't have many city boys, like us. Most of them are reformed hicks. They don't know how to have a good time like a good city boy does.”

Buddy shook his head. “I don't know why I'm doing this, but fine. You're exasperating, you know that?”

“I've been told.”

After a few more beers, Buddy was feeling more relaxed, and Winn only more jovial. Buddy asked Winn up to his apartment and offered him brandy. Of course, he took it, and the two of them fell asleep, drunk, on the sofa.

It was the bombs that woke them up in the morning. It's funny how fond and terrible memories can come together. They woke up, and Winn had them running for the nearest base.

“Buddy, stay back here,” Winn said. “You don't need to go near.”

“Neither do you! What can you do about bombs from the ground?”

“Buddy I need to go!”

But Buddy followed him. They got to the a base entrance, and the guard didn't want to let him in.

“I'm a pilot!” Winn shouted.

The guard should have believed him. He was wearing the wrong uniform, and Winn had no wings on his breast. It was an out and out lie. The guard moved aside and let him pass, but would let Buddy through. Winn turned back once, and saw Buddy standing there with the guard, watching him. Winn saw a bomb fall right on the place they stood. He couldn't turn around fast enough, he lost balance and fell. The guard was no where to be seen, but he found Buddy with his right leg severed.

Winn didn't know if the kid was alive or dead, he picked him up and ran for the infermary. It was full of wounded. There were scared nurses doing quick work, and commanding officers and enlisted sailors to help. Winn put Buddy down, and immediately nurses came to help. They directed him to help others, less sever, or under care of another nurse or doctor. He tried to keep an eye on Buddy, but lost sight of him.

That evening, when most of the work was being managed by the nurses, Winn started looking for Buddy, and was sad to find him with the dead. Winn hung his head and walked out of the compound.

“Hey, paniolo! You survived.”

“Well, look at that, we meet again.”

“I told you. Fate always repays a good favor.”

“Fate has made me pay for it,” Winn pulled out the stone. “I think you gave me a cursed one.”

The man took the stoned and rolled it though his hands. “No,” the man said, handing it back. “Pele is happy with this gift. You're going to need it for your travels.”

Winn put the stone back in his pocket. “A friend of mine died this morning.”

“The stone can't be blamed for the actions of others.”

“It's superstitious, I know, but I grew up superstitious.”

“Keep it, you'll need it.”

“How did you get on base?”

“I walked in.”

“How did you get passed the guards?”

“Easy. Said I was a doctor.”

“They really need to get better men to guard this place.”

It was a few weeks before Winn got his chance to come home. This is where I can remember the story and I don't need to rely on what Winn told me. He walked out of the car of his train into grand central station, and as soon as he stepped off of the platform, he stepped into me. He was so handsome with his brown suit and hat. He carried his duffel bag behind him, slightly...trying to hide that he was coming home from service.

He always said he knew from that moment. “You have they eyes of a friend I lost,” he said, after apologizing, of course. In his way, he asked me for a drink, and I accepted. I loved that man more than he ever knew. He was good to us. And he always said it was because of that silly rock.



Alice sat back in her chair, drifting in the memories. She couldn't help smiling to herself. Then, as if they were smoke in the room, the memories drifted from her mind. They became distant and cloudy. Alice tried desperately to hold on to them, but, when they were gone, she didn't even know why she was distressed. She looked down and the pen and notebook.
She didn't want to read what she had forgotten, not yet. Her stomach rumbled. Tuna and chips were waiting for her in the kitchen. She put down the pen, and soon forgot, even she had written today. Before retiring for the night, she saw a small black rock sitting on her nightstand. She picked it up, inquisitively. When finding nothing special about the rock, she opened her window, and chucked it out.
She took off her house dress, and wrapped herself in the bed. The bed felt lonely, but she didn't understand it. She'd slept alone her whole life. She was afraid of dying alone, but the past was so foggy now, it was hard to recognize people in the present. She shivered for a while, then gradually fell asleep, and with another night, went another day in her life.