J |
ohnny just closed his eyes. His mind went blank. Yet, he sensed that feeling he did when he was younger. He was so confused with it all. However, he sat on his bed every night trying to remember. Remember those times… the ones with his father. The more he tried to remember, the less reality came, and the more fantasies arose with hints of imagination. His mother was seldom help. She was hallucinating horribly. She made up stories more often than Johnny, which just frustrated him more. He was determined. Determined to be taken from a 35 year old and back to his childhood. Back to when he was 6.
29 years earlier…
“Daddy… Daddy… come play.” Johnny’s voice stung his father’s ears as he came into the house at noon. “There is a war daddy.”
“A war son?” His father looked tired most often, but pretended not to be when Johnny wanted to play.
“Yes a war. And the cap… he just called for the J.I. Joes.” Johnny held his wooden gun on his shoulder and pointed to the woods when he talked of war.
“It’s G.I. Joes.” His father always corrected him.
“That’s what I said Daddy. We are the J.I. Joes.” Johnny never got the concept that he was wrong with what he was saying.
“Okay boy, whatever you say. So where do we have to go?”
“To the woods. The wind will led us…” Johnny’s eyes widened… his pupils blackened, and his lips turned into a grin.
“The wind will let us what?” His father knew what Johnny was talking about, but waited for Johnny to correct himself.
“Not let… it’ll led… le… Take us there, you know what I mean!” Johnny swung open the screen door and yelled, “C’mon Dad. Their a waitin’. We don’t have much time.”
Grabbing his coat and bb gun, Johnny’s father traipsed after him. “Soldiers stand tall Johnny. Your slouched. Straighten your back son.”
“Like this?” Johnny’s back curved up fast, his hand raised to his forehead in salute, as his tiny legs marched.
“Pretty good lad, pretty good.”
They made it to the woods. “East to the sea, West to the war. Right daddy?”
“That’s right.” Johnny’s granddad used to say that all the time.
Suddenly, Johnny slammed his body to the ground. “DOWN DAD! THEY’RE SHOOTIN’! BANG, BANG!” Johnny raised his gun to his eye and randomly shot at the sun rays. With no hesitation Johnny flew into the leaves and hid. His father followed like he was told.
“Did you hear ’em shootin’ dad?” Johnny whispered in a quiet mumbling voice.
“Yes son.”
“They think they got us… but we’re not dead. Us J.I. Joes live on.” Johnny peeked us head up and looked around. “Ah-ha… they’re gone. They left us ‘lone. They probably got scared of my gun and ran.”
“Probably Johnny.” His father grinned.
“That’s Captain J.I. Johnny to you. I am the new boss.” Johnny and his father headed home.
“Well Cap, you sure fought a pretty good war. Thanks for saving my life.”
29 years later…
“That would have been fun.
“I remember that!.” She proclaimed.
“But it didn’t happen mom. Its not real. It was just a story. Imagination got to me. Dad and I never did that.” He knew her condition was what made her think it happened. He thought some more and his brain began to hurt.
27 years earlier…
“Kenny Rogers…” Johnny said. “I want to play ball like the kid in the song.”
“What are you taking about son?”
“And the ball goes up in the moon so bright, he swings his bat with all his might. And the worlds as still as still can be, and the baseball falls, and that’s strike three…” Johnny sang.
“You want to strike out?” Johnny’s father asked.
“No. He finds out he is a good pitcher dad.” Johnny stood in the hall with his ball and mitt. “C’mon dad, let me show you.” Johnny and his father went out to the backyard. Johnny ran across the grass to the other side near the creek. “Okay dad, get ready to swing. Its gunna come fast.”
Johnny threw the ball, and it went rolling on the ground. “Hmmm… the ball must be heavy.” Johnny attempted again. “Maybe it just needs a push… up…” He threw with all his might, and on the ground it rolled. “Nope, it definitely is a heavy ball. It won’t fly.”
“Maybe you should try swinging and I will pitch son.” His father suggested.
“I…I… I don’t know dad… it could get dangerous when I have the bat.” He opened his eyes wide and looked at the bat. “I guess I could… try.”
“There’s a good lad. You try your best.” His father laughed and grinned. “You go over there now. Stand your ground and make sure to keep your eye on the ball.” His father picked up the ball and threw. It went past Johnny and onto the driveway. He ran over to Johnny and asked, “why didn’t you swing?”
“Did you not hear what you said dad? You said, and I quote, ’KEEP YOUR EYE ON THE BALL.’ Well I did, and I am still figuring out how you got it to stay in the air.”
“Yes. Watch the ball, but swing too.” His father shook his head as he looked towards the screen door. Johnny’s mother stood there watching and laughing.
Johnny swung around and waved as he yelled, “I’m doing good mom. I‘ll be a pro in no time. Go call the Yankees and tell them on am on my way.”
“Okay son… now keep your eye on the ball… AND SWING!” The ball flew, curved up towards the sky and then came flying towards the bat. Johnny lifted the bat, pulled back and swung. The bat went flying through the air as Johnny ran to first base, and the ball hit the ground. His father ran to his side again and asked, “Why? Why did you throw the bat? You are a hitter not pitcher anymore.”
“You poor thing… you don’t watch enough baseball. When Jeter is up at bat, he swings, throws the bat and runs. I think we should be teaching you and not me.” Johnny rolled his eyes. “Mom, he really needs some lessons,” He yelled to the house as he pointed at his father.
“You know son… they hit the ball and run. Maybe we should try some other day.” His father and him walked to the house.
“Its always on dad… just watch baseball and you’ll catch on.” Johnny said as he shook his head.
27 years later…
“Yup, you always wanted to play pro baseball.” His mother cried now.
“I never like baseball mom. I never understood it. No one taught me to play.” Johnny closed his eyes. It was coming back. He was remembering the real story. He could see it and feel it. His eyes clinched, and his fingers curled…
29 years earlier…
“Daddy, daddy…” Johnny jumped up and down in front of his father. His dads hand pushed on his head to stand still.
“Stay down.” His father said.
“C’mon Johnny. Bed.” His mother called from the upstairs. “Its 9 o’clock.”
“But… daddy…”
“Go. Listen to your mother son.” His voice was rugged and his eyes drooped.
Johnny slowly climbed the stairs to his room. “Why does daddy get home late?”
“He has to work honey. Make money. So we can live.” She explained in small detail.
Johnny closed his eyes as she flipped the switch and the lights vanished. Hours later he awoke to the wind blowing outside and the thunder cracking. He cried, but no one heard him. Laying in his pajamas, he shook. With a big crack from the sky, he ran to his parents room. He hopped onto his fathers side of the bed and shook him with his tiny hands. “Wake up! Wake up! There are loud noises outside.”
“Its thunder. Go to sleep.” His father waved him away.
“No daddy, I can’t. I’m scared.” Johnny said in a crying voice.
“Ok… ok… I am up.” They walked down the creaky staircase, and went to the kitchen where the sliding glass door was drenched with rain. “Want to make popcorn and talk?”
“Really? We can eat at…” Johnny pointed to the clock.
“Three in the morning.” His father answered when he saw Johnny trying to figure it out.
“Tree in the morning.” Johnny replied.
“Yea we can.” His father made the popcorn, and they sat in front of the window.
“Why does the sky light up and make noises when it is raining?” Johnny asked softly.
Trying to figure out a way to explain it to the six-year-old, he said: “Well, in Heaven, the angels are bowling. And when they get a strike and knock down the pins, the lights go on and off to congratulate them.”
“Really? There is bowling in Heaven?” Johnny looked up and shoved another piece in his mouth.
“Yes son.” They both yawned. “Looks like you can sleep now. What do you say?”
“Ok. As long as they are having fun.” Johnny and his father crept up the stairs again.
“Good night son.”
“Good night daddy.” Johnny smiled.
29 years later…
“Bowling… pffft.” He shook his head. “That’s it. That’s the memory I have. No more. We never bonded.”
His mothers hand turned cold and her fingers slipped out of his. He looked at her and said… “I always had you mom. I had memories with you. Thank you for that.” Outside he heard the rain and the cracking of the thunder. With nothing, he went home.
