Читать книгу Daniels Song - Katherine Dobney - Страница 7

It was a quiet and peaceful evening, and the stars shown clear and bright. I had the large glass double doors open. I enjoyed the idea that I could lie in bed and see the heavens. That’s why I had picked this room. Out of all the empty rooms in Willy’s house, this one made me feel that there were only three walls closing me in. I wanted to be close to my stars, as close as I could get. And I loved the big glass doors, which helped me feel as though I was sleeping under the stars.

I awoke to a knock at the door. “Hey, Danny Boy, may I come in?”

“If you must.”

Willy came back in his excessively happy tone. “I must”.

The door opened and there stood Willy, his hair going in every direction. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and bright green pants with pink high top Converse tennis shoes. To call Willy eccentric was mild. He was always easy going, and always enjoyed a good laugh.

“I was hoping you could go to Seattle with me.”

“You mean would I drive you to Seattle.”

“I thought it would give us a chance to talk and a trip to the city would do you some good.”

Willy did this when he wanted to talk to me. He knew I could not go anywhere and he would have four and a half hours of my attention. I knew he was planning it that way. After all he was my mentor and I always felt reassured after his counsel.

“We would only be gone about a week.”

‘If only a week’ I thought, sometimes a week to Willy was more than seven days.

“Will Professor Noland mind?”

“No, the students are taking their final exams. I have to do some cataloging that would take me only a week so it wouldn’t be a problem. When do you want to leave?”

With a smile that said surprise, “Tomorrow” he came back. I should have known.

The next morning I woke to the sunshine flooding my room and it glistened off the mirrors on the closet doors. Which reminded me, I needed to get some cleaning and packing done before we leave. I hurried through my laundry and straightened the room. That was always easy since I didn’t feel the need for a lot of clutter. I just had a few personnel possessions. My bathroom was the worst. I had a bad habit of listening to music in the shower. The counters showed it with CD’s everywhere. It was always like a game of memory, finding which case and CD matched.

I washed my car and removed all the star charts from the back end. I even cleaned the passenger seat off. My car was a small, two-door hatchback. If I knew Willy, we would need all that space plus more and I was right; Willy walked out the back door with two large bags handing them to me to pack in the car. He looked at me with a sinful smile saying, “I’ll be back” in his Schwarzenegger voice. I just shook my head and walked to the car. I had finally got the bags in and the hatch closed but when I turned around there stood Willy with his picnic basket in hand. I gave him an expression, which begged, ‘do we really need that?’ He already knew what I was thinking. We had spent so much time together.

“I thought you might like to eat, at some point.”

It turned out to be a relaxing drive. The road wound through the evergreen forests. The trees were so tall it felt like driving in a canyon. There was such perfection and beauty in them standing regally along the river until you hit Interstate 5. From there to Seattle it was just one long highway.

It was a quiet ride. Willy wasn`t saying much; he just looked at the scenery. After a while I noticed Willy fidgeting in the passenger seat. He was looking at the dash with a funny puzzled expression while he twirled a shiny CD on his finger.

“Where is the CD player?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Daniel, it’s the twenty-first century you need to update the stereo in this thing. How do you listen to your music?”

I glanced his way and said simply “iPod.” I smiled at his dismay. “I didn’t want to change the classic dashboard so I had an adapter installed.” Willy just stared at the CD as if wishing it would play by magic.

The traffic was becoming congested as we were heading into rush hour.

“Daniel, I wanted to ask how are you doing? I know you’ve been busy and....” Willy said, in a concerned voice.

“You know. I’m doing like always, the best that I can.” Thinking to myself, some days I didn’t know if my best was ever good enough. I just kept doing what felt right and I prayed a lot.

“How are you really doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is your glass… half-full, or half-empty?”

“I don’t know if my glass is half-empty, or even half-full. Right now it’s an empty glass with just a few drops of water in it. Actually Willy, I feel like the angel of death. In the last few months we lost four of the children in the ward at the hospital.”

“And what about the girl you were tutoring?” Willy’s voice was soft and sincere.

“Kayla.” Her loss was still fresh in my mind. “I’ll see how I’m doing with that when I get back to class. I met her family and some of her friends at her memorial. I told them if there was anything I could do…. They said they had everything taken care of. Her parents had her cremated and they’re burying her ashes with her grandparents, in the Bahamas.”

Kayla was only one of the three young lives put to rest. I knew that the schools would have counselors on call for the friends, family and classmates. I didn’t fit in these categories. I already knew it was difficult to understand death, especially when they were so young. It’s always easier to cope with a death when the person is older, when they have experienced some measure of life.

As traffic came almost to a standstill, Willy grew quiet and I knew he was thinking about something important by the look on his face. I heard Willy take a deep breath before he spoke.

“Daniel… what do you see?”

“A big truck, with big red lights, stopped in front of me.”

“Really!!!!!… Is that all that you actually see?”

He sounded like I had insulted him. But what I truly saw in front of me was a large bumper sticker “How’s my driving, call 1-800-My-Drive.” I knew this was going to be a longer trip if I did not participate in whatever Willy was trying to do.

“Sorry… I see a truck, and cars. There are some trees and shrubs along the shoulder of the highway. I can even see an overpass. I can see water, most likely the lower part of the Puget Sound.”

“What do you hear?”

“The truck.” At that Willy made the sound of a deep sigh, I swear I could’ve heard his eyes roll back in his head. “I can hear cars. I can hear different types of music from the cars passing us. I can hear a jet somewhere and I think I can hear something that sounds like a train.”

“It is a train, it’s the 5:30 commuter train from Portland. Now what do you smell?”

“Car exhaust, and that strange cologne you’re wearing.”

“Hey, Sarah gave it to me.” I wanted to laugh at his expression but I didn’t.

“And I can smell the food in your picnic basket.”

“What do you feel?”

“I can feel a cool breeze blowing from the bay, the soft leather of the seats, and the smooth wood of the steering wheel.”

“Daniel, how do you feel?”

“I don’t know how to answer that question. Willy what’s this all about?”

“Answers.”

“Answers for what?”

“How you feel.” As I looked into his eyes I could see the concern he had for me.

“Willy sometimes I feel like I’m in a washing machine, going back and forth. Sometimes I don’t know how I’m feeling because it changes so fast. How is all of this supposed to help me?”

“That is a journey you need to take.” Then he rubbed his hands together for some special effects as he said.

“Go into the world my little grasshopper, you will find the answer.”

“So, what’s your real reason for this trip to Seattle? I know it wasn’t just to talk to me.”

With a shocked look on his face that I knew was a put on, “The coffee, Danny-Boy, the coffee.”

“You don’t drink coffee!”

“I need to see an accountant, or to be more precise, I need to talk to him. He needs to know that taking money from the Helping Hands Foundation is unacceptable. He needs to see the error of his ways and where that will lead him.

“One of your… second chances?” I asked as Willy dug through his picnic basket for something else to eat. I just shook my head and stared at the truck in front of me.

We finally made it to the hotel and checked in. Usually when we travel like this, Willy and I share a large suite on one of the upper floors. Willy led us up to our room carrying his picnic basket and I was stuck carrying the rest of our luggage. Willy sat his picnic basket on the first bed where I placed the rest of his luggage. I was glad he always left the bed by the windows for me so I could watch the stars. With all the city lights I’d be lucky if I could see one or two, though the gesture was kind and thoughtful. I found a few to watch as I faded off to sleep after a long day of driving.

I awoke to what seemed like Willy making as much noise as he could. I put my pillow over my head trying to ignore him but it never seemed to work.

“You`re up, now we can have breakfast together.”

With all the noise Willy made in the bathroom, you would have thought he’d look different. But there he stood dark gray slacks, pale gray shirt and a strange looking tie that set off his red Converse shoes. One of Willy’s versions of office attire and as usual his hair was going in every direction.

Each day started the same with me entertaining Willy with breakfast before he went off on his mission. As the days continued so did my act until I could retreat alone to our suite where I sat in front of a large window. Outside were the city below and the blue water of the sound. I watched the ferryboats and sailboats sail by while surrounded by thoughts I couldn’t comprehend, much less understand. The sunny days became shadowed nights as I watched the lights come on one by one. Each evening my musings were brought to an end when I had to deal with the chaos named Willy.

I woke up to a quiet peaceful room unlike the mornings before. Willy had gotten an early start and given me some much needed peace. After five days in Seattle, I knew when Willy got back to the hotel we would be heading home.

I decided to walk down to Pike’s Market. It was an easy downhill walk. The closer I got to the marketplace, the more people surrounded me. It was a busy place with all its vendors and attractions. The main attraction was one fish company where a sale meant the fish was thrown back and forth between two men. I didn’t understand the attraction but it was fun watching the spectator’s reactions, the laughter and everyone wanting their photos taken. There were so many people, I felt like a pinball bouncing from person-to-person. Over and over I kept saying excuse me, but I don’t think they heard or noticed. I decided to walk around to the far side of the market where there were less people and I could get a glimpse of the water.

As I turned the corner I had to laugh to myself. I walked down what Willy calls Bubblegum Alley. The walls are plastered layer after layer with gum. Willy once thought that the investment of gumball machines strategically placed at the ends of the alley would be interesting. I’m glad he decided otherwise.

This walkway was nicer. There were fewer people and I could see the water. I could see Vancouver Island and the ferryboats filled with people. As I looked north I could see the Seattle Space Needle. I remembered the beautiful parks there and headed in that direction.

As I walked, I noticed fewer tourists. Soon people standing in doorways became people living in boxes with shopping carts nearby. I remembered earlier I had picked up a handful of gift cards from some of the fast food places. I started handing them out with another card that had a list of local shelters. I felt better knowing that I could give them a few hot meals and a safe place to sleep if they wanted it. I wished I could do more.

As I looked into their eyes, I could see these were people who felt lost, or forgotten, some even had their own demons to fight. I knew these feelings myself. Could they tell if their glass was half-full or half-empty? Or did they feel like me, a glass with only a few drops. I wish I knew. Sometimes I felt like a disappointment to my Father.

The landscape had changed as I reached the park surrounding the Seattle Space Needle. The shopping carts and cardboard houses were again replaced with tourists and vendors. I passed the Music Center and the Seattle Needle, heading toward my destination, the Freedom Fountain.

The fountain looked like a silver dome made in the bottom of a crater of mortar and stone. I was surrounded by huge speakers, which were mounted on top of towers. As the music played the magic began. The fountain looked as if it was dancing to whatever music that was being played. Water would cascade in different angles, at different moments; it looked as if it was alive.

“Mommy, hurry up.”

“James… slow down, I said no running.”

I looked around to see a mother holding tightly to a child’s hand as he was dragging her toward the fountain. They stopped short of the crater’s edge and she held his shoulders with both hands looking into his face. She looked as if she was reluctant to let him go.

“James, remember what I said. Stay where I can see you.”

The boy nodded his head and quickly headed down the hill to the base of the fountain followed closely by his mother’s voice.

“James, I said, no running.”

“Okay.”

The boy moved close to the huge metal sphere. I could hear his laughter as he jumped in the puddles and places on the ground where the water was bubbling up. Suddenly the water was cascading in every direction. I couldn’t see the little boy anymore. The water swallowed him up but I could still hear his laughter. As I lay back in the grass everything seemed to disappear but his laughter.

Then it happened. In that moment, of hearing only the child’s laughter, I realized I was remembering their loss, not their gifts. I closed my eyes and I could feel Timmy’s hand in mine. I could actually hear his laughter in the little boy playing in the fountain. Bright and vivid memories filled with the laughter of the children as we pushed them up and down the hall in a wagon flooded my senses. Even making the sound of a car turning at high speeds that always seemed to make the nurses laugh and smile at our antics. These were the gifts they gave me, and many others who were lucky enough to be touched by their lives.

“Hey man, can you get our ball.”

I looked to my side surprised to see a football. It looked like some college kids were playing out in the park. I threw the ball back to them, I noticed some girls sitting under a tree laughing and giggling at each other. One girl in particular was watching one of the boys and every time he turned to look at her she would look down, her cheeks were a rosy pink as she blushed. It was funny to watch making me chuckle at myself because I had seen this before and didn’t realize it.

Another memory plucked out of hiding. Kayla, the young girl I had tutored in history, did the same thing. She would secretly flirt with a boy. But when he noticed, she would blush and look away. I remember once she tried it on me, and I just shook my head and walked away; not realizing it was truly a compliment.

I had been focused on the loss. All the lives I had touched also touched me. Their essence may be gone, but I would always carry who they were with me. I just had to remember the good things, the important ones. I needed to remember there was more to them than just death. I needed to remember the life they shared with me and to tell their stories. I was here. Then it came to me, the answer to Willy’s question. My glass was half-full. With every good memory, and thought, a drop was added. Finally this grasshopper got it. I could fill my glass drop by drop. By lives lived to the fullest in such a short amount of time. Or I can watch it disappear drop by drop. It wasn’t a hard decision. I would remember the lives lived, the laughter and tears of joy, and then maybe one day, my glass, like Willy’s, would be filled.

To say I was ready to get back to class after almost a week with Willy was an understatement. But he was right, I needed to stand back, take a fresh look at things. I prayed asking for guidance. The week with Willy seemed longer but I enjoyed our talks. I was glad to get my cataloging done, and getting things ready and put away for the summer. Most of the students were taking their exams, and would be finishing up this week. I couldn't wait for the warm days of summer.

“Mr. Starr, may I speak to you for a moment?” Professor Noland’s voice came from behind me. He always spoke with hardly any emotion but this time he sounded concerned. When I turned around to speak to him, concern was even etched there on his face.

“Yes, Professor, what can I do for you?”

“I know this is out of the ordinary, but I wanted to ask you if you can tutor a student. I know it’s last minute and so soon after Kayla’s death, but this is a special case. It’s for a friend of mine. His daughter was in that accident almost a month ago, and she’s having some problems with her memory. She was one of Kayla’s close friends. She needs special help. She’s getting a B- in my class, but she wants to get her grade up for her scholarship. She’s determined but she has been out of class for the last few weeks recovering. I told her I would give her two weeks from now, and then she has to take the final exam. Do you think you would have the time?”

“It’s not a problem, for what class?”

“My six o’clock world history. I know that’s not one of the classes you normally tutor but I would feel better knowing I gave her a fair chance.”

Though it wasn’t a class I helped him with, my first thought was history is history, world or otherwise. “My calendar is open, when would you like me to start?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, how is this evening after class? I can call her father and tell him to pick her up later. And Daniel, her name is Hope, Hope Shears.”

I slid into the library though a side door, hiding the fact I was carrying in my dinner, a bottle of juice and a sandwich. Chuckling to myself, it occurred to me Willy would have walked through the front doors with that picnic basket of his. I found an empty table with some chairs near the back of the library where they kept the older books. I figured not too many people used this area, so no one would see me eating my sandwich. When I finished, I opened up one of my favorite books, an older book, one about poetry. I usually read it at the library because I didn’t want to give Willy a chance to give me a hard time at home. Once I started reading the words took me to another time, another place.

“Excuse me, are you Daniel Starr?”

It took a minute for the soft hesitant voice to register in my brain. As I looked up to answer I saw green eyes, the color of emeralds, with tiny gold flecks in them. They stood out in contrast with her rich mahogany hair. She had a timid little smile, almost childlike.

“Yes, I’m Daniel Starr, can I help you?”

“My name is, Hope Shears, and yes, I need a lot of help.”

As I stood up to offer her a chair she seemed confused. She closed her eyes and sighed “With history”. Her voice was soft and sweet. She sounded like a child asking a question, not sure of herself. We went on to spend the evening talking. I learned that she was having problems with putting some things together. Hope could remember the name and date, but could not put a face to it. Or she could remember a town and not the country it was in.

“When I first got home from the hospital I didn’t know where things were even in my own house, I was so frustrated. So Dad put sticky-notes on everything, even colored coded them. I still have trouble with what cabinet the glasses are in. It’s getting better. I’m doing fine in my other classes, it’s just history!”

“I think we can fix the history problem. Can we meet here, after your last classes?”

“That’s not a problem. My dad doesn’t mind picking me up.” And all at once her smile disappeared. Something she was thinking made her sad and a tear ran down her cheek. I wanted to wipe the tear away and tell her things would get better in time, but I knew that it wouldn’t help.

“It’s getting late, my dad will be here to pick me up.” As she went to stand up, she grabbed the edge of the table. I grabbed her, trying to stop her fall, holding her up. Her heart was pounding, her eyes closed. “Hope?”

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. Are you alright, do you need any help?”

“No.” She almost sounded angry. “I’m sorry, sometimes when I stand-up or move too fast I feel light-headed or dizzy, I’m sorry.”

I wondered what she needed to be sorry for. Surely she didn’t feel that this was of her doing. It still seemed that she blamed herself.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” As she stood holding onto the back of the chair, I put her books in her backpack, and put it over my shoulder. I held Hope’s arm as we walked out to the parking lot and waited for her father. While we stood on the curb I noticed a black midsize car driving toward us. It stopped in front of us and the door opened. A man in his early forties got out. He had a touch of gray to his light brown hair, and hazel eyes that looked worn and tired but lit up as soon as he heard her.

“Dad, this is Daniel Starr.”

“Nice to meet you Daniel, I’m Robert.” He walked to the passenger side of the car “And thanks for helping, you come highly recommended by Professor Noland.”

“Thank you, it’s an honor to meet you too.”

Her father opened the door for her, and she got in, smiling at him. It somehow made me feel good to see her smiling.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I told her.

“Hope, I have meetings with a few parents tomorrow night.”

“Mr. Shears if you don’t mind, I could take Hope home.”

“Thank you, but it’s a long drive. We live on the other side of the river in Long Beach. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

“Its not a problem, I live on the other side too.” He just stared at me for a moment as if he were making the most important decision of his life. He took a deep breath and nodded.

“Okay, here is my card,” as he wrote on the back and handed it to me. “My cell and directions are on the back.” He reached for my hand and shook it. “And again thank you”.

I was happy to see Hope was still smiling as he drove away. I looked forward to seeing her smiling again when I saw her tomorrow.

Hope was already at the library watching me curiously, as I walked in carrying my bulging backpack. I looked around for some place to unpack. I needed a setting other than the long tables and chairs. Then I remembered the reading room in the back. No one used it because generally it was too hot; the radiators always seemed to be on.

“Let’s use the reading room.” She got up and followed me yet she seemed very cautious. I found two large chairs and moved them so they faced each other. I gestured for Hope to have a seat. “Please” I asked. She just stared at me with a look that said she didn’t understand and she was confused.

As she sat in one of the overstuffed chair she asked, “What are we doing in here?”

“I want to try something different.”

“Different?” Her voice sounded so small and unsure of herself.

“A friend gave me the idea. I told him about you. How I was tutoring you and how I was trying to figure out how to help you remember how to put the pieces together. He had this idea of keying in your senses to help your memory.”

“My senses?”

“Yes, like your hearing, smell, a memory can be triggered by all sorts of things. Are you willing to try?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Sit back and relax.” I pulled out the contents of my backpack and put them on the small reading table. She looked at me like I had just crossed over to the other team, in the middle of the game. I had to giggle. “Trust me.”

I took the bottles of spices and opened each of them hoping Rachael wouldn’t mind that I took them. I kept thinking that I had better replace them before she needs them, if I wanted to eat any time soon. I poured the cinnamon and nutmeg out into plastic cups. I took out my iPod, and the history book Prof. Noland had given me. Then I reached into my side pouch and pulled out the bag from the little boutique downtown and removed the scarf.

“That’s very pretty, is it your girlfriend’s?”

“What?”

“The scarf, is it your girlfriend’s?”

“No, I don’t have a girlfriend.” Hope looked at me like she didn’t believe me. I just smiled at her and her face reddened with embarrassment. I took my iPod and turned on the playlist named ‘HOPE’ adjusting the sound to low and putting one of the ear buds in her ear. I picked up the scarf to cover her eyes but Hope’s hand reached up and grabbed mine. She was frightened and looked scared to death. “I don’t understand,” she whispered.

“You will. Please, just give me a chance.”

She let go of my hand slowly and nodded at me. I took the scarf and tied it around her eyes so she wouldn’t be able to see. I smiled to myself as I thought of Willy’s offer to loan me his sleeping mask he used when flying. The words ‘OUT TO LUNCH’ on the mask just didn’t seem to fit my plan. At least with the scarf there was some dignity if anyone walked into the room.

“Tonight we are going to study Marco Polo and the spice trade. The music is from India. Sorry it’s as close as I could get on short notice. With the spices, and the heat in here, I’m hoping to help you remember this lesson better. Oh, and I almost forgot.”

I reached into my bag and grabbed a small take out box.

“Some fortune cookies, I thought you might like a snack.” I put them in her lap. She fumbled with the box to open it, not being able to see. I watched her break one cookie open and put the fortune back in the box. No doubt she would read it later. I had to smile at her glad she couldn’t see me as I sat down in the other overstuffed chair.

“Now I am going to read to you. Just sit back and relax.”