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The Letter (Part Two)
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The Letter (Part Two) |
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Poet deVine
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-26
Posts 22612Hurricane Alley |
Tim Harper pulled up in front of the one store in Rhyolite, Nevada, pulled off his helmet and turned off the Harley. It was hot. Not just hot, he thought, but hot enough to burn his lungs if he breathed too hard. And he wanted water. Somewhere over the last few miles, he developed a thirst like he never had before. Though, if the truth were known, it could be one of his new meds. He wasn’t sure of some of the side effects of this last mixture and overwhelming thirst could be a part of it. He noticed a Sparklette water truck in back of the store, probably making a delivery so he entered, digging in his pocket for some cash. He kept only a few dollars in his pocket, the rest of his life savings was in his backpack, along with 23 bottles of medications that were keeping him alive. He went to the cooler in the back of the store and picked up two 64-ounce bottles of water. He would need most of this to wash down his pills; the water he carried with him from Denver was gone. He stood at the counter next to the cash register and waited till an old man sauntered in from outside. The old man rang up the water and Tim paid for it. Six dollars! If he wasn’t so thirsty he would have told the old guy to forget it. But he was. And he had to take his pills in 2 hours and couldn’t swallow them dry like some of his friends did. Tim wanted to buy some gum but there wasn’t any. No National Enquirer. No Playboy. No candy bars. None of the usual impulse items could be seen at the check out. Not that he really needed to see Playboy, those days were over, but he would have liked a piece of gum. He went back outside and found an old chair in front of the store. He sat down and took a long drink of water. Then he closed his eyes. Who in their right mind, he asked himself, would come to Death Valley in the middle of August!? And on a whim. Because of a promise made in a letter. Tim opened his eyes and almost got up to leave, go back to Denver and forget the letter. He reached into his pocket and pulled it out. A miracle is what he wanted. He was chasing a damn miracle! When he was twelve, his mother used to tell him to stop daydreaming. Then when he protested that he wasn’t, he was thinking, she would slap him! He learned not to delve into his mind when she was around. His dad was never around much so he didn’t worry about him. Every couple of months, his mother would drag him and his two brothers out of bed in the middle of the night and they’d get in the car and drive for a while until she found the house she was looking for. She pulled them all out of the back seat, still in their pajamas, and marched them up the steps to a strange front door. She would pound on the door (even if there was a doorbell) and then turn around and walk away. Get in the car and drive off. Eventually lights would go on in the house and the door would open. It was always a pretty woman in a nightgown or a robe. And their father stood behind her, a look of disgust on his face. He would have to explain who the three kids were, standing there half-asleep in their pajamas in the middle of the night. Most times there was an argument and Dad and the boys ended up in Dad’s car, driving home. On rare occasions, they were hustled off to a bed somewhere and stayed for a few days. Until Dad packed them up and took them home. He would stay with them for a few weeks, then disappear. A few weeks later, the circus started again. Tim figured his mother spent her days following his dad, until she found which woman he had ‘shacked up’ with. “Don’t you turn out like him!” She would scream at them. “Shacking up with whores! I’ll kill you with my bare hands if you do!” By the time Tim was sixteen, he had saved $200 from mowing lawns and baby-sitting and one night, he took off. Walked to the bus station and bought a one way ticket to Denver. He got a job working construction. Framing houses mostly. For a year, he stayed away from girls. All his buddies from work would go out to bars on Friday and Saturday night and teased him about staying home. But he remembered those nights in the back seat of the car when his mother would drive them to some strangers house and vowed not to fall into any woman’s clutches. Then, for his eighteenth birthday, one of the guys had all the crew over for a barbecue. Tim, grown tall and strong, was the guest of honor. The wives and girlfriends of his friends made a big fuss over him, teasing him about his muscles. His shoulder length black hair and his deep brown eyes. He blushed and tried to think of an excuse to leave. Then he saw her. To say he saw her was an understatement. He ‘felt’ her. In the deepest pit of his stomach, he felt that girl’s soul. Her name was Ashley and she was his boss’s sister, and she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Her hair was a soft red and fell in massive curls down her back to her waist. Her deep green eyes were clear and wide. She wore a tight white tanktop and cutoff jeans. He fell fast and hard. He asked her out and they dated for a few months. Tim asked Ashley to marry him but she said she wasn’t ready to settle down but she would move in with him. They lived together in a tiny apartment. She worked nights and slept during the day and he worked days. They saw each other for a few hours a day but made the most of their weekends. Sometimes they would buy food on Friday night and never leave their place until Monday when Tim went to work. Then, one day, there was a terrible storm. Steve let them go early and Tim rushed home thinking he would have more time to spend with Ashley. When he entered the apartment, he found Ashley sitting on the sofa with a suitcase by her feet. She looked up at him and he could see she’d been crying. “Ash! What’s wrong?” he asked as he rushed to her. “I’m leaving, Tim. Going home to my mom in Tulsa.” She looked at him and he could see the dark circles under her eyes. “Why? Have I done something wrong?” He asked. “No. I have. I’m sick, Tim. Very sick. I’ve got AIDS.” Tim stood up suddenly in shock. He refused to believe it! Not Ashley! “Honey, you don’t have to make up stories like this, if you want to go see your mom, go but please don’t make up lies!” “It’s not a lie.” She said. She leaned down and took a folder off the coffee table and handed it to him. “This is the report. My doctor thinks you should go in to be tested too.” A horn blared and she stood up. “I’m sorry.” She whispered. And then she left. Tim sat down but didn’t open the folder. While the storm raged outside, while the sun set, Tim sat there. And didn’t feel a thing. The next few weeks were a blur. Trips to the doctor and to a clinic. He found out a lot about Ashley that he didn’t know. She’d had three abortions. She had been treated for herpes and she had AIDS. Her doctor said it was probably from one of her sex partners. She had given him a list and he was notifying them to come in for testing. There were 84 men on the list. And she had just turned 21. Tim’s test was positive. He had AIDS. He took two weeks off and went back to Virginia to see his parents and brothers. It wasn’t a good idea. He began to get sick from the medication and lost a lot of weight. On the night before he left, he told them. His father got up and left the room. Tim never saw him again. His brothers looked uncomfortable; they were never a close family. But the strangest reaction came from his mother. She just sat there staring at him. She didn’t speak to him. When he finally got up to go to bed, he leaned over to kiss her and she pulled away from him. IN the morning, she was still there in her chair, dressed in the same clothes. He called a cab and said goodbye to his brothers. His father was nowhere to be seen. He mother finally stood up as he had his hand on the door. “I don’t believe a word you said about getting this thing from that girl. You like men don’t you! I knew it! This is God’s way of getting revenge on me! Get out!” She began to shriek louder and louder. Tim’s brothers grabbed her and held her back. She looked like she would kill him. “Get out! I never want to see you again! How could you do this to me!? I wish you were dead!” “Don’t worry Ma, I will be soon enough.” Tim whispered. With one quick glance at his brothers, he left the house, left Virginia and never looked back. The next five years were hard. He lost more weight even though he started to work out. He had to quit his job (seeing Steve was too much for him). He found a job as a receptionist in a local hospice. They had mostly cancer and AIDS patients. And he tried to prepare himself for death. The hardest part of it all, he often thought, was that he would never have a child. He loved kids. The kids that came to the hospice were his favorites. He spent a lot of his money buying them gifts, making their last days on earth happy. One day, just before he was ready to go home, Steve walked in. “Ashley wants to see you.” He said. He threw a piece of paper on the desk and walked back out. The address was local. Tim drove there after work. The house was on a beautiful, quiet street. There was no sign out front, but Tim could smell death. It was a private hospice. Ashley had come here to die. The nurse on duty took Tim to a small room in the back of the house on the second floor. A tiny figure lay in the bed, hooked up to an IV bag. Ashley’s mother sat beside the bed, holding her daughter’s hand. Tim walked over to the bed and stared. Ash’s beautiful red hair was gone, her sparkling green eyes were almost gray with pain. Her lips, cracked and bleeding. He felt his heart break again. She lifted one small hand and reached out to him. Automatically he took it and leaned down, putting his face close to hers. She whispered something, but it was so faint he couldn’t hear it. Ash’s mother stood up so Tim could lean even closer. He put his ear to her mouth and heard: “I’m sorry.” Tim started to cry. He had cried many times over the last few years, angry tears, tears of dread and tears of hate. But now, silently, he let go. He raised his head to tell her that he was sorry too, but her eyes were staring back at him unfocused. She would no longer be in pain. He turned and walked quickly from the room. Two days later, the letter came. Handwritten on thick paper. He read it as he ate his morning yogurt: ““Mr. Harper” the letter began: “You are being given the opportunity to make a difference in the world. A difference so enormous that it will bring you great wealth and power. The illness that will soon take your life can be cured. We will guarantee that if you accept our offer of this job. You will not be sorry! Tomorrow, you will receive $500 cash. Please purchase a bus ticket to Beatty, Nevada. Someone will meet you and drive you to your final destination in Rhyolite, Nevada. When you arrive, you will get further instructions. It will be best if you arrive in Rhyolite by noon on August 15.” Tim stared at the letter. It was an easy decision and one he was fully prepared to take. He would do it. He would do whatever he could to prolong his life. He’d eaten raw goat gut for two weeks because one of the patients at the hospice told him it was good for AIDS. He had traveled to Mexico to see a doctor that promised a cure. Only to return sicker than ever with ‘Montezuma’s Revenge’. But he decided he wouldn’t take the bus. He spent the $500 on a used Harley and packed some clothes and a months supply of medication into a leather backpack and rode off to chase a cure. A miracle. A dream. And he ended up in the driest town in America. Tim looked down and realized he had finished the first bottle of water. He stood up to throw it away when a weather beaten bus pulled up. Two people stepped down from the bus. A young woman, a good looker, Tim thought. And an old man. They both looked around for a minute when the bus pulled away. The girl walked straight past him and went into the store. Tim could hear her asking if they carried bottled water. The old man stood next to the building and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He opened it and glanced around. Even from the fifty feet that separated them, Tim could see it was the same letter he had received. The girl came out of the store, carrying a bag with several bottles of water. She too had a letter in her hand. The three strangers exchanged looks. What was going on? [This message has been edited by Poet deVine (edited 06-16-2000).] |
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LoveBug
Moderator
Member Elite
since 2000-01-08
Posts 4697 |
PDV, this is a wonderful tale. I'm anxously awating part 3!  "We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars." -Oscar Wilde |
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Munda Member Elite
since 1999-10-08
Posts 3544The Hague, The Netherlands |
You leave the reader indeed "wondering what is going on". Enjoyed this as much as part one. |
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Angel Senior Member
since 1999-07-02
Posts 551Pennsylvania |
This was so great..but now I want to know! Anxiously awaiting the third installment  ~Susie "If we could read the secret history of our enemies, we should find in each man's life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility." ~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow "Driftwood" |
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Lone Wolf Member Ascendant
since 2000-03-16
Posts 5842Lansing, MI USA |
Great story!! Had me hanging on every word here. Cannot wait to find out what happens next. LW Friends are friend forever if the Lord's the Lord of them and a friend will not say never cause the welcome will not end. --Michael W. Smith |
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Janet Marie Member Laureate
since 2000-01-22
Posts 18554 |
Sharon you do this SO WELL!! I love how you changed it to his point of view for part 2... this just holds the reader and you write so much emotional detail and imagery as well as the setting. i feel like i know this guy you write him so well keep em coming prose gator  jm |
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Christopher
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-02
Posts 8296Purgatorial Incarceration |
Alright Lady! You're weaving a masterful suspense here Sharon! I'm being sucked in more and more with each line. I like how you shifted narrative views from the lady first then to this guy. Creative! I am also very impressed with your telling of the man's past. It didn't sound like a recital, but you did get the point across! Impressive! Chris |
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