Forty
His attention was not on the Service, but on the little
girl who sat four spaces to his right in the
semi-circular pew. She swung her legs, which did not
reach the ground, back and forth. Not in a hurried way,
but with the rhythm of a lazy summer afternoon.
He could feel the slight warm breeze. He could sense
the smells of the seemingly still river bay. The strong
August sun in its blindingly radiance removing moisture
from plants and mud and the river itself, filling the
air with odors and fragrances that sometimes melded
together, sometimes distinct, recognizable.
The one little girl of his life beside him on the bench
swinging her legs in time with some unwritten sonata -
sun-visored, sun-screened, content - watching for
movement in the bobbing red and white float. Movement
that would mean that a fish was very interested in the
food she’d placed on her hook.
Everyone was standing.
Thomas stood.
With a glace he saw her sitting back in the pew, doll
cuddled against her chest.
The one little girl in his life had a small rocking
chair in her room. She would sit there caressing Nicci
and eat candy. The two often dressed alike. The room
smelled of chocolate. The smile she greeted him with
was a chocolate smile. It always made him laugh.
Everyone sat.
Thomas sat.
She had dropped something and was looking under the
kneeler and the pew in front of them, Down on all fours
in her pretty yellow dress, the tops of her white shoes
against the floor. Her mother gathered her up and
dusted her off. Her dad handed her the recovered doll
sandal.
Everyone was standing.
Thomas stood.
They knelt.
Thomas knelt.
The small sound of bells came to him from the front of
the church.
An electronic dinging sound, a voice from the speakers
in the ceiling, “Dr. Barnes 2-2-7, Dr. Barnes, 2-2-7.”
The one little girl in his life lay still on the
gurney. Crying eyes that were dry and afraid. So
afraid. Her once swinging legs…
Everyone in his row was standing and getting ready to
walk to the isle.
Thomas stood.
“Thomas,” the old woman still sitting beside him, said,
“Please help me dear.” He slowly bent down to help her
to her feet. “Where is your mind right now, I wonder.”
Reaching up to his face with hers, she kissed his cheek,
as she had a million times over the last forty years.
He looked to the child and was surprised to see that she
was looking at him. She smiled. It was a smile that
reminded him of chocolate.
Daddy, are you alright?” They were out side of church.
The pastor had just greeted him and whispered in his
ear, inquiring if he was alright.
Memories. Memories did this to him. They took him to
places, often, one after another, and they were so
real. They engendered such strong emotion. They were
so compelling.
After all, they were his life.
“Yes my dear one, I am alright,” Thomas said, “I was
just remembering.”
“What did you remember?” She was truly interested.
“Two days long ago. One a happy, wonderful day of
fishing with my favorite fishing partner. The other,”
he reached up and cupped her cheek in his wrinkled
palm. With a tear working its way to the corner of his
eye, he said in a husky voice, “the other was the worse
day of my life.
“Oh, yes. There was a third thing I remembered.
Chocolate.”
The word changed the mood completely. They both smiled
and she put her arm in his. Her sons would wait with
their grandmother while daughter and father went for the
car. Arm and arm they walked toward the deep blue
mini-van.
“Let’s stop on the way home and get some chocolate,” she
said. “Then you and I can sit down before dinner, maybe
on the bench in the yard, if it’s still warm enough, and
split the chocolate bar.”
“A bar of chocolate,” he said, reverently, “Okay, you’re
on.”
The little girl form Mass, doll held tightly to her
pretty yellow dress, her hand held securely in her
father’s, walked quickly past them. As she passed she
turned her head around to look at Thomas over her
shoulder. Thomas winked at her and she smiled at him.
He wondered if she liked Chocolate.
The one little girl in his life noticed the encounter,
smiled to herself, then said, “I want dark chocolate.”
“Yes. Dark chocolate. Plain. No nuts or anything.”
“A big bar of bittersweet chocolate. A really big one
daddy.”
Joe De Matteo |
