A Fragment of Yesterday

A few months ago, I came up with the following lines.  They are just few simple verses I whipped up in about ten minutes or so.  I was meaning to expand the ideas somehow, but I just never got around to picking it back up.  Perhaps it was because the lines are so simple, that it is harder to finish them off.  Anyway, here they are

One word is all I need,
     Take you away from here.
You just have to say it
     And then we will be free.
Pick you destination,
     Pick anywhere at all.
Then we'll be together
     And never be apart.

As you can see, the verses are fairly simple, with an off-rhyme scheme.  I am still not sure what I need to do to complete this poem.  It isn't bad, per se, but it seems too simple to be finished.  The night I came up with this, I tried to write a second stanza, but nothing seemed to go with it.  Maybe anyone out there can help me out.  The poem feels whole, but it still needs more.  It just seems missing something, but I can't figure out what.  Well, I have some news.  Starting either next week or the following one, not only will I go back to my book, I think I will be able to post more than once a week.  At least for the next month or so.  Since I will be on winter break from grad school, I will have more time to write what I want to write. Until next semester, when I will hopefully be taking an advanced fiction writer's workshop.  I probably won't be able to continue this project for the class, but  I will be writing something else, short stories I think.  Anyway, I will be writing more, so be looking out for it.

A Better Road Tomorrow

I have had this poem rumbling around my brain for a few years now, but I am only now putting it down.  However, there is something missing about it, but I can't figure out what.  Maybe by letting it to into the public like this, I will be able to find out what.  So, here it is

A Better Road Tomorrow

I will always regret never knowing the light of your life, the love of your heart.

How I wish I could have been a part of that life,

But I now know it will never be.

I cannot be there for you, within the flesh, only in spirit,

Yet I will do what I can, nothing more or less.

I give you my prayers, to warm you through these cold, empty nights.

I give you my heart, for yours is broken, and love is always needed.

I give you my mind, so you can think clearly on what lies ahead.

I give you my strength, to bear the weight that burdens you so.

I give you my life, if I but could, to replace what has gone missing in your world,

But I cannot, and so you suffer.

The shadows creep along, trying to devour you whole.

Yet in that dark abyss, there is still light and life and love.

Find it, and follow it to new days ahead.

Your world is not over, you will go on.

One day, one step, each brighter than before.

Until there will be only light, the darkness behind you,

Not forgotten, but no longer a threat.

So now, you rest, in this dark night of the soul,

But remember, there is a better road tomorrow

And you do not walk it alone.

Dada: Chapter 10b

     At least he left the seat up.   That never happened once in college, even in our own suites.  It's a little thing. but when there are only guys around, one really should leave it up.  It just make sense.  Although I knew quite a few guys who would just use the sink instead, if just to save time and/or water.  Not me.  Never.  Well, once.  Or twice.
     I fill up the bottle to the top with extra water to help clear it out before dumping it into the toilet.  Then, I do it a second time, just to make sure everything is out before I get rid of the plastic bottle.  I then relieve myself, just to make sure I got everything out.  Using a bottle is just not the right angle for that sort of thing, especially when sitting down.  Then, I flush.  And put the seat down.  All those years living with just my mom drilled that into me.  Besides, Sam will probably need it in the morning.
     I look into the mirror as I wash up.  There I am, in its haggard unshaven glory.  Hardly any stubble.  Took me at least an extra three years before I started shaving.  There's a lighter hair or two mixed in.  I started seeing them when I was twenty-three.  There's a few on my head, too.  My mom joked at me when she saw the first ones.  Really made fun of me, how I was growing old.  She shouldn't have done that.  She shouldn't have done any of that.
    Why did she keep me away?  Running around for years to keep away form him.  Didn't even ask for money.  I needed him.  I still don't get shaving.  I've tried electric and cartridge, and I still can't get the hang of it.  My friends tried to teach me, but they were mostly gone by the time my beard came in.
    Hadn't thought of Jim for awhile now.  He was the first guy to really show me what it was to be a guy.  My other friends' fathers really weren't the type to help me out.  They didn't get too close, but Jim was there for me.  For a few months, then he all but ignored me.  Even when I was with his brother at their home.
   Then they left me.  I tried to get more friends, but I never found anyone who got me like they did.  Maybe I didn't let them try.  Maybe it's me who is broken.  Maybe I shouldn't have anyone else.
   I can't be a father to Sam.  I'm barely old enough to take care of myself.  All those people thinking her's my son today, yesterday.  I am not old enough to be his father.  I am not capable of being his father.  I am not going to be a father, ever.  I am just not going to be anything.
   My mom is right, Sam is not going to be my responsibility.  I can't be the only one who can help him.  I can't be the one who will take care of him.
    I had turned off the water, how long ago?  Staring at my reflection for minutes, maybe longer.  I used to do that all the time.  I really need to get back to bed.  I pick up the 'clean' bottle and unlock the door.  I open it slowly, just in case Sam is asleep.  I don't want to wake him up.
     I turn off the light, but I keep the bottle hidden behind my leg.  There's Sam, sleeping.  Peacefully?  I hope, after all he's been through, especially after I caught him.  The only time I ever got caught was by Jim, but that's another lifetime ago.
      The bed has grown cold since I went in.  I put the bottle on the floor, and try to go back to sleep.

Dada: Chapter 10a

     We leave the restaurant, which was much better than I anticipated.  Four-and-a-half stars, although that rate could have been inflated.  I would only give it four.  Very good, but could be a teeny bit cleaner.  The food was great, though.  Sam could have eaten a whole lot more, but then what teenage boy wouldn't.  Well, I wouldn't have.
    The hotel isn't that far down the same road.  Just a mile or so.  I had looked it, and the restaurant, up at every stop.  Even confirmed the reservation.  Five stars.  Triple checked.  Can't be too careful where you spend the night.
     "Get your bag, and the groceries.  I'll take my computer and the rest," I tell Sam when we stop.  The parking spot is right in front of the hotel, large well-lighted lot.  Just far enough of the highway that the noise won't come to the room.
     "Look's a little small," Sam cracks.  When will his voice stop changing already.  He won't talk unless he has to, and then it's usually a whisper.  I really can't stand it.
     "It has four stories.  It will be fine."
     We trek the short walk through the revolving door, straight to the desk.
     "May I help you?" the woman behind the desk asks.  She is standing perfectly straight, her short frown hair perfectly straight.  Definitely not tired, cheerful in fact.
     "Yes.  We have a reservation for eight, two beds.  Burton, Chris."
     "Okay then," she responds.  She is typing into her keypad, looking at a monitor just below the desk.  "You just made it."  It wasn't even seven thirty yet.  "It looks like everything is in order.  You placed the reservation online this afternoon.. ."
    "Yes.  Can we hurry this along, please?  This bag is getting heavy, and I don't think Sam can hold any more."  He was milling around the empty lobby.  No seats, his bag trying to slip off of his shoulder.
     "I can see.  It won't be much longer," she chuckled.  "I bet you and your son are really in need to get set up tonight."
    "What?  He's my brother, half-brother.  Just taking him back home.  His home."  I stumble out.
     "Look's a lot like you.  Here's your key card.  Room 207.  Do you need any help up the elevator?" she kindly replied, skipping over our missteps.
     "No thank you.  I think we can just manage.  Good night."
    "Good night to you too, sir." she manages to get out as I lead Sam to the elevator to our room.
    "I'm hungry.  No, tired.  Wait, both," Sam whined/yawned on the way up.
    "We just ate, not even an hour ago.  If you're hungry, you can eat some of the stuff in that bad, after you clean up."
    Is this how it is to be a parent, for it doesn't feel right.  It is too simple.  It is too hard.  That response was so not right.
    The doors slide open to an empty hallway.   Judging by the cars in the lot, I'd say the place was half full.  Good.  It would be quieter, and no one would ask about my 'son.'  We don't look that much alike.
    "You clean up first.  If you're still hungry, you can eat as I clean up.  Just don't brush your teeth, yet.  You can hurt your enamel that way.  Wait until afterwards." I admonish him as I open the door.
    "Yes, sir.  Chris.  Whatever." Sam mumbled out in a typical teenage drawl.
    I set up the computer as he goes into the bathroom to clean up.  I take the bed further away from it. Just as I finish setting up, I realize I forgot to ask about the wi-fi password.  I will have to use my phone as a hotspot.  The battery is dying, but it should work, even as it's charging.
     No email from Rick.  Confirmations from the social worker, the hotel, and Yelp for my rating.  Nothing great.  On a hunch, I check Rick's social media accounts.  Right there, on Facebook, a post about his wife going into labor two months early.  The doctors think they can slow the process, but he'll be at the hospital all day.  I really hoped he would have been able to help, but this is more important.  Being a father always is.
   I turn everything off to save power, and to keep Sam from reading anything.  I go in as soon as he gets out.  We go to sleep in under an hour, just before ten.
     ━─────────────━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
     I wake up about two hours later.  I need to get up, now.  Sam is sleeping, so I slip out as silently as I can, without turning on the lights to wake him.  I hobble slowly to the bathroom door.  I kept it open so that there would be less noise.  I really need this, now!  The light switch is just to the left of the door.  I flip in one, just as I enter the bathroom.
      There's Sam.  In front of the toilet.  Turning his head back, looking at me.  Fear is in his eyes.
     "Sorry!"
     I quickly slam the door, and hobble back to my bed.  Knowing at least one thing about teenage boys, he is going to need at least another minute, maybe five or so because of the shock.  I can't really wait that long.  I take one of the empty water bottles.  We were going to recycle them once we left, but I guess reusing one is good too.  It takes me only a short time to fill the bottle with its unintended fluid.  I hide the bottle close to the bed, so Sam won't see it when he leaves.  I get back in bed, pretending to be asleep.
      After about four minutes, maybe six, I hear the flush.  A few seconds later, Sam walks out, slowly and silently.  He doesn't speak, or even look in the direction of my bed.  I wait maybe, two minutes, before I get up.
   "Some of the best advice I ever got was from Jim Greenwood, guy I could call a brother.  He told me that even if you alone in a house, miles away from anywhere, you always, always make sure the door is locked before you do that.  You never know who could walk in.  Remember that, Jack."
    I hide the bottle against my leg as I walk to bathroom, turn on the light, and close the door.  And lock it, loudly.

Dada: Chapter Ten

    I have been dreading this for the last two hours, ever since I got the message at lunch.  We've made another pit stop at a convenience store, twenty-five miles outside of Philadelphia.  Sam was hungry, always hungry, and I wanted to top of the tank before we got into Jersey.  They have some strange laws there about fill-ups.  At least he's still getting relatively healthy snacks, even if he's mixing whole-grain chips with fruit leather seems stupid, and disgusting.
     "I need to tell you something," I say as we get back on the highway.
    We hadn't been speaking much.  Just a random comment, here or there, about something we see or a song on the radio.  I must have gone through the entire free trial selection, before we settled on Hits 1 again.  Sam is still too shaken up to talk, and with his cracking, a lot safer too.
     "What is it?"
     "I got a message from the worker in New York.  He, maybe she, can't tell from the name, though we would be there this morning.  He left at noon, or so.  Wanted to spend the long holiday weekend off work, I guess.  We won't be able to get into the house today.  There will be someone there, but not until tomorrow morning."
     "No.  No."  Sam sputtered.  Not really a shout, more of a groan.  Low and slightly painful.
    "Look.  I have already set up a reservation at a hotel for tonight.  We should get there in plenty of tome to have dinner before we have to check in.  We'll leave early enough to eat, and make it to your home way before tomorrow night.  It'll be alright."
     "We should have flown.  Your head wouldn't have exploded or nothin'.  Nothing. "  Sam turns his head to face out the window. I can almost imagine he's trying not to cry.
    "There is nothing to be done.  Even if we had wanted to fly, we would have had problems.  I checked last night.  There were no direct flights to New York until this morning.  We would have had to go to Phily and take a connector, and we still would have had to find a place to stay the night.  Or we could have found a way to Louisville or Cincy, but the flights were early and we wouldn't have been able to get you some new clothes.  Again, we would have had to rent a room.  After midnight, somehow.  This way, I thought we would have made it back in time to make an appointment.  How would I have known that we would be held up for an hour by an accident, or that the social worker would take off early.
     "I thought we would make it in by nightfall, or at least close.  The worker should have stayed longer to help us out.  I'm sorry.  And yes, I would have had my medical problem, regardless."
    "I know," Sam whispered, barely audible against the glass.  "I just want to get home."
    "We'll make.  We just have to survive the night in Jersey."
     I'm sure I hear Sam laugh at my joke.
     I don't tell Sam that I still haven't heard back from Rick.  I know something might be wrong.  He would have at least got me a number for a local attorney.  Why do I feel that something is wrong?   I hope Sam doesn't notice.
    The next two hours are just as boing as we get to the hotel.  I had placed the reservation hours ago, back at the BK, soon after I got the message.  We stop for dinner at a place that looked like it had great reviews for its Stromboli sandwiches.  Sam loved it.  After only one day, I think I am beginning to know my brother.

Dada: Chapter 9b

    I let Sam sleep off his latest meal, driving down the highway through West Virginia.  I least I think I am still in West Virginia.  I have never travelled anywhere near here, so I might be near Virginia by now, or perhaps getting ready to enter Maryland.  I've got the route all laid out, and I checked everything out at the last stop, but something is still nagging me.  I am so out of my league here.  Haven't driven this far in months.  Actually, I don't think I have driven this far since college, if then.  Too much of a stay-at-home type of guy.  Never thought of myself like that before.  I always liked to go places, but what changed.  When did I change?  When did I stop wanting to go to new places and try new things.
      I switch radio stations every few minutes.  Nothing seems to be catching my attention.  I just keep going back to Hits 1.  Just like me to have a satellite radio free trial, and I keep going back to Top 40. Don't get me wrong, I like other types of music.  Not country, of course.  But I remember listening to more rock and rap when I was younger.  At least compared to now.  I try not to sing along too loudly. Sam is a growing boy and needs his sleep.  If he's going to be seven feet tall, he will need it.
     Why couldn't I have gotten the height genes like his has?  He's going to be at least six feet, I can tell.  He's just growing fast not too.  He might be even taller than me when we get out of the car.  I just bet...
     "Where are we?" Sam asks sleepily, his voice still cracking a little.
    "Still in West Virginia.  We should be in Maryland soon, and then we will stop for lunch."
     "Well, that sign says we are entering Virginia, not Maryland.  Are you sure you know what you're doing?"  Sam replies.
      He was right.  "Virginia is for lovers."  I thought they had given up that slogan years ago.
     "It won't be for long.  Both West Virginia and Maryland are narrow.  We will be in Maryland shortly.  How was your nap?"
     "I wasn't sleeping that much," Sam answers.
     "Yes, you were.  You nodded off soon after you finished your snack."
     "Not all the time.  I mostly just had my eyes closed.  Nice Cardi B singing you had there."
     He had been awake.  It least he didn't mention Rhianna.
     "I had Spanish as my foreign language requirement in high school and college.  Don't remember that much since, so don't ask me for a full translation."
      "When do we eat?  You said we would stop for lunch around one.  It's almost one-thirty.  I'm starving,"  Sam all but whines.
     The bottomless stomach of a teenage boy.  I swear, I never ate anywhere near as much as he does when I was his age, but then, I was a late bloomer.
     "We'll eat at the next stop.  I swear."
    Fifteen minutes later, we stop at a Burger King, just across the state line in Maryland.
    "Told you we would be here soon," I say to Sam as we get out of the car.
    "Can't we eat somewhere else.  I don't really like burgers that much.  We usually eat a little healthier..." Sam trails off without finishing, before he can say more.  Probably was going to mention them.  That's why he's staying quiet.
    "You can handle it.  We'll get you something. "
    "The line is somewhat short, considering the time.
   "Hello!  Welcome to Burger King.  Can I take your order?"  the cashier behind the counter asks.
    "Yes.  We'll have a Whooper and a Whooper junior.  Small drinks.  Small onion rings.  No, wait.  Sam, would you like fires or would you want to split the rings?"
    "I'll just have the burger.  I don't really like fries or onion rings. "  At this, Sam takes a quick look at the menu.  "But I would like some cheesesticks.  Oh, no pickles or cheese."
   "Actually, that goes for me as well.  Don't forget the rings."
    I pay the girl, okay young woman, and wait for the order.   There's only one other ahead of us.
  "How are you two gentleman this afternoon?   Would you like anything else with that?"  the next lady, older, slightly greying hair, asks.
   "No thanks.  Ketchup is all I need," I reply while grabbing a handful of packets from the tub beside the tray.  "Sam, do you need anything else?"  The sticks came with a marinara dipping sauce, but he might need more.
   "I'm good, " was his quick retort.
    "I hope you and your son have a good day then." she said as I pick up the tray.
   "He's my, uh, brother.  Road trip."
    I stutter and stumble away to a clean table.  How awkward I this going to be?
    "Do you need to wash your hands first, because I think I'll be fine, for now."
    "I think I'm good."
    We sit there, silently eating.  I pile a few rings onto my burger, drizzling them with ketchup.  I should have got some mayo as well, but I do need to watch my diet.  Probably should have gotten grilled chicken.  I look up and see that Sam had placed a cheesestick on his burger, with some sauce as well.
   "I have never seen anyone do that," I say after I take a sip of water.  Again, I got the healthier option.
     "It's about the only way I like burgers.  It's like its almost a pizza this way."  Sam replies between bites.
     "There's a sandwich called a Stromboli that's almost like that.  I should show you one.  You might like it."
     Nothing else is said for the rest of the meal.  Neither of us got much ice, so we didn't need to take the cups with us.
    "I need to go to the bathroom."
    "Okay, Sam.  Go ahead.  I'll use it after you get back." I think it would be prudent that I try not to see him for as long as possible, if ever.
    While he's gone, I try and take a quick look at my phone for messages.  Rick hasn't responded.  Figured that would be the case.  I have two others.  Don't want Sam to know about these two just yet. I don't want to alarm too much.
     It is a little past two when we get back to the car.  Sam won't like what I will have to tell him.

Dada: Chapter 9a

  After we get back to the car, I hand Sam a bottle of water from the back seat and some napkins.
  "I want you to be careful and not get anything on the car.  That includes dirty fingers.  The water should still be cold.  It was in the freezer for an hour or so before we left."
    He reluctantly took the water and napkins.
   "I'll try to be careful," he whines back.
   Sam opened the chips first, but didn't touch them.  He then unwraps the chocolate bar and takes a small bite.  Immediately after, he pops a chip in his mouth.
    "What are you doing to those poor chips?"
    Sam finishes swallowing before his answers.  I always eat these together.  I like the way the taste.  Don't know why. "
    He waits a few seconds before adding.  "Guess that's the way I was taught."
    We don't talk for the next few miles as he finishes his snack and water.
   It must of been his dad, our dad, who showed him how to eat those things together.  Or his mother.  Maybe someone else.  He must of eaten them with one of them all the time.  It just brought up bad memories.  I never got to have any such memories with my mother.  I can't remember a time that I felt good just eating a snack like that with her.  At least nothing special.  Anyway, how can anyone eat those things together?  Salty chips and chocolate?  My throat clenches up at the thought.
    Sure, I like sweet and savory together, sometimes, with an emphasis on the savory.  A little sweetness in a sauce for meat is bliss.  A practically collected sweet-and-sour sauce packets growing up.  Used to put it on chicken, and even burgers, all the time.  I still have a bottle of it in the fridge.  I even mix a little in tartar sauce and put it with fish.  The fish needs to be fried just the right way though, or the balance isn't right.  But salt with sugar, multi-grain chips and chocolate?  NO way.
    "I've got a plastic bag in the back to put the wrappers in."
     I didn't notice that Sam fell asleep again.  The wrappers are on his lap; the water bottle is in the cup holder, half empty.  The napkins are nowhere to be seen.  At least I don't think he got any crumbs on the car seat.
    For the next half hour, I let Sam sleep.  Growing boy and all of that.  Of course, he will be over six feet tall by the time I wake him up.  How is it this kid got the height genes?  From what I say of his dad.  Sorry, out dad., he looked like he was at least six feet himself.  I will never be able to keep with the kid.  Can't think about it now.  Wait until I find out what the situation is in New York.
    As I let Sam sleep, I just listen to satellite radio.  For some reason, I still prefer FM, but with the new territory and all, I can't afford the time searching for something I like.  At least I've got the free trial for another week or so.  Sure, I can afford having it full time, but why?  This is the first time I have driven this far from home, ever.  I barely know where I'm going.  I think I'm almost at the Maryland state line, by the way.  I like my local radio stations just fine.  I know where to find what I like, so why look for something that I might not like.   Why try something new?
   Why not take care of Sam?