Walking Backwards - Episode 18
Drew gets some help from the dead and the living.
This is the eighteenth episode of Walking Backwards, the third collection of not quite true tales of Texas. Previous collections are:
The Cold Days of Summer - If you are new to these tales and the type who likes to know how things started I would recommend starting here.
The Hollow Men - the second collection of not quite true tales of Texas.
New episodes are posted (almost) every Sunday. You can move easily between episodes via links to the previous and next episode.
If you are new to these not quite true tales of Texas but are the type who likes to dive right in you could start with the prologue to Walking Backwards. The prologue provides a summary of the first two collections and descriptions of the major characters you will be reading about in Walking backwards.
In our last episode, episode 17 of Walking Backwards, Drew begins to walk forward but the path is not easy. He meets with Mark in the field and is reminded of something that Rick told him a long time ago.
Alone with the dead
The night of January 14, 1993 I met with the dead. It was an intervention of sorts. It was a long night in the field.
I woke up in the field. Three dogs were waiting for me, Socks, Daisy and Kaiser. I reached out to pet them but all three pulled away. They were all business. Kaiser took the lead and trotted away. Daisy stood beside me. Socks nipped at my heels. I took a step forward. Daisy took a step. Socks stayed at my heels, nipping at them so I kept moving a little faster. Daisy kept up with me. Finally I reached a speed that Socks was satisfied with. We ran in the dark, Kaiser leading, Daisy at my side, Socks at my heels. I was being escorted to somewhere.
Just as a test I turned to the right, away from Kaiser's lead. Daisy barked, Kaiser wheeled around to circle me and get me back on track, and Socks nipped me, pushing me back to the left. Once back on track and knowing they weren't going to let me go my own way I went their way. We ran at a pace slow for them but one I could keep up with. We ran in the dark towards the light on the horizon but I knew that was not our destination.
Before we reached the light Kaiser turned to the left, away from the light and towards a large oak tree. The moon had risen. I could see I would not be alone.
Waiting for me at the tree were Mark, Rick, Tommy and my Dad.
“Drew, we need to talk.”
“I figured. What about, Rick?”
“You know, this shit you tried to pull off. The way you've not been living. The fact you are starting to slip again. This is not part of the plan. This is not your life.”
They surrounded me, four dead men, three dead dogs and they tried to break me down, but they didn't. I was already broken.
They kept talking. I listened and sometimes had something to say. Talk, talk, talk, mostly words I had heard before.
“Son, you're not listening.”
“Yes, I am, but I'm not sure what your point is.”
This time Tommy took the lead.
“Drew, being dead the longest, think of me as your senior counselor. It's pretty simple really. You don't get to choose how it all starts, how it all ends or when it all ends. You do get to choose what you do with what you got. Early on, you took what came along and let it hit you. You were like a pinball in a pinball machine, bouncing off whatever life tossed your away. You didn't break easy, that was good, but it was a sort of a pointless life. A few years back you began making real choices, but somehow you became fragile. Maybe all that bouncing around wore you down. Maybe you got stuck and now when the wind blows you start to break instead of bend. I don't know.
“Somewhere along the line we have all told you, in one way or the other, that we are here to help you. But we can't help if you aren't willing to be helped. You are not alone. Quit acting like you are.”
The field faded away and I was awake in my bed. I lay there. I was alone and wondered if I had the strength to do this. The dead have told me I am not alone. I'm not sure what to believe. I sure can't tell anyone anything. Why? Because I doubt any professional would let me walk out the door. I'm not ready to be locked up until someone else says I'm cured. Add to that, it's a matter of trust. I don't trust anyone.
Sand and Starch
I don't believe in a God or a unifying force in the universe. I don't believe in much of anything. Maybe I believe in chaos, that there is no order, no purpose, no reason, just the roll of the dice that determines the fate of you, me and everything else.
But sometimes there is data that shakes my faith in chaos and causes me to wonder if there is some cause and effect, some sense of order to the universe.
The dead had told me I was not alone. But I was. There was no one I could talk to about what had been happening and what I nearly did. No one. I had to face, deal with this alone.
And yet, a few days after the dead told me I was not alone the phone rang, and rang.
First it was Mike Garrett. “Just checking in.” Except he had never checked in before. He said that Mary Ann was seven months pregnant and work was going good. He asked me how I was doing. I told him I was doing all right.
“Drew, you're not. I can hear it. Shit, man, you lost your two best friends. I think that damn near broke you. No one hears from you, like you don't want anyone around. But don't forget, you've got sand and starch. I told you that years ago. You’ve been dealt a few bad deals the last few years. Seems like you almost gave up on the game, but that’s not the way. That’s not you. You weren’t raised that way. You know you need to be patient and keep playing, biding your time until the cards come back your way.”
Damn, without saying anything specific Mike had damn near uncovered everything I was trying to hide. He looked at me long and deep, like he was trying to see into and through me.
“Here’s the thing. You are stronger than this, whatever this is. If you need help, let me know. I'm not asking you to spill your guts to me. You just need to know if you ever want to talk, call. I'll listen. You're not alone.”
Jack called three days later. He didn't say as much, most of what we said was grunts but he ended the call by saying “You are not alone.”
Jason called the next day. Much more talkative. Said a lot but I heard very little of it, about the only thing I can really remember is a name: Lisa. His call ended the same, with him saying “You are not alone.”
Barry called on Saturday. Life was good in Corpus but he was thinking about applying for sportscasting positions in Austin, Dallas or Houston. He insisted that Ann, Rae and I come down to Corpus soon. I said we would. He didn't end his call by saying “You are not alone.” He said that in the first five minutes.
Robert, Rick's brother, called Sunday afternoon. It had been a long night at work for him and he had woken up a little after noon and decided to give me a call. He missed Rick, so did I. Somewhere in the conversation he said we were not alone, that we knew Rick better than anyone and we should rely on each other more than we had.
Uncle Bill was the last to call. He insisted on talking first to Rae and they talked for several minutes with Rae doing most of the talking. Once she was done, he and I talked. I asked about business in Odessa, he asked about the tech writing business. No matter what business one was in, there were boom and bust cycles to deal with. Last thing he told me was that I had sand and starch.
I'm not sure if they were all in cahoots on the calls. Not sure if I want to know one way or the other. Not sure what to believe in. Not sure if I should believe in anything. Others might look at all those calls as something more than coincidence, like some kind of guiding force. Me? I didn’t know, or maybe wasn’t ready to consider possibilities I could not logically explain.
Turns out Uncle Bill was not the last to call. Several days after Rae and I talked to Uncle Bill the phone rang again. The weirdest part was that I got the call at work, at my office, at a telephone number that I thought Ann was the only who knew of it.
I was focused on my work and let the phone ring three times before I picked it up. I answered with “Drew Remington, how can I help you?” The voice had a strong west Texas twang to it and said “Drew, how’s it hanging?”
I didn’t say anything for a moment. I didn’t recognize the voice, but there was something familiar with it.
“Drew, you still there? This is Bud.”
My brother-in-law Bud, husband of my sister Elizabeth. Surfer blonde hair, once a gangly six foot, three inches tall, but the years had beefed him up some. Sometimes reminded me of a Labrador puppy, bounding joyfully through life.
“Are you going to say anything, Drew?”
I did say something. “Bud, good to hear from you, but surprised to hear from you. We don’t talk all that much. What’s going on?”
Bud laughed and said “We talk, Drew, or at least I do. You’re the one who doesn’t talk.”
Neither one of us said anything for a moment and the silence was getting oppressive.
“Look, I just wanted to check in on you and say thanks for what you’ve done and what you are doing. Elizabeth told me years ago that you paid for her time at Texas Tech. You never talked about it. You never bragged about it. You never took credit for it. That was something you didn’t have to do. Something that a lot of people wouldn’t have done.”
I didn’t respond to that. I was listening.
“I also know about the college funds you set up for George and Mary. You set them up right after they were born and you’ve been depositing money to it every month since. Again, something you didn’t have to do. They’re not your kids, but you do it anyway.”
Damn! How did he find that out? There were only three people who knew about the college funds: Uncle Bill (who I had talked to about it when George and Mary were first born), Ann (I might be crazy but I’m not a total fool), and our VP Tanks accountant, Kevin. One of them had let Bud know but it took only a second to know who. Kevin never talked to anyone about someone else’s finances. That left Uncle Bill.
“When did Uncle Bill tell you?”
Bud laughed again and he had a loose, relaxed don’t give a shit who hears it kind of laugh. The kind of laugh that just brightened the day when you heard it.
“I bumped into Bill at Harrigan’s a couple of months back. A group of us from the DOT had lunch there and as we were leaving I saw Bill sitting at the bar. I walked over to say hello. He was having lunch at the bar, a nice salad with a beer on the side. He offered the stool next to him. The rest of the DOT group was waiting for me but I waved them on. They left. I sat down next to Bill and we talked. He asked about Elizabeth and the twins. He asked if I had started thinking about college for the twins. I told them we hoped they would want to go to Texas Tech, you know keep the tradition going. He smiled at that.”
“I bet he did, Bud. After all he is a Texas Tech graduate himself.”
“No shit, he doesn’t hide it too well, does he? From the Texas Tech logo next to the street numbers on his curb and the disturbing amount of red and black clothes he has.”
We both laughed at that. Uncle Bill was a Red Raider, that was for sure.
“He told me about the college funds that you set up when George and Mary was first born. He told me you asked him not to tell Elizabeth or me about it. He also told me he and Sherry have been depositing to the fund over the years as well.”
I knew that, just from looking at the statements and the total amount growing faster than I was funding it. I called Kevin about it and Kevin told me to talk to my uncle.
“Drew, here’s the thing. You didn’t have to help Elizabeth through college. You didn’t owe her that, but you did it anyway. You didn’t have to set up the fund for the twins. Again, you don’t owe us that, but you did it anyway.”
“Does Elizabeth know about the fund?”
“No, Drew, she does not. I figured you are the one who should tell her that and you will tell her when you figure the time is right.”
I didn’t say anything for a moment but then thought of something.
“Bud, how did you get this telephone number?”
Again, he laughed that laugh again.
“Drew, I have my ways. I work for the government. I work for the Texas Department of Transportation, good old TxDOT. You’ve had a Harris County Toll Road Authority toll tag for the last couple of years. Not too long ago you changed your contact telephone number for your toll tag number to this 713 number. Thought I would give it a try.”
That’s the thing about gangly, clumsy Labradors and their human counterparts. You enjoy watching them move through life and you often forget how damn smart they are. That was Bud, a little clumsy, always respectful, but smarter than most.
“Drew, here’s the thing, we’re brothers by law. That’s different than blood. No one expects us to be friends, to be brothers, but we can be. The way you treated Elizabeth, the way you treat George and Mary. You don’t want the credit. You don’t brag about what you have done. You do good quietly with no expectation of reward or recognition. That says it all for me. You’ve got my loyalty until the end. The one thing you need to never forget is you are never alone. You need something, let me know. I’ll get it done.”
Well, hell, I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. We talked for a few more minutes, catching up on what was happening on our lives. The last thing Bud said before he said goodbye closed the deal between us.
“Let’s keep this up. The phone works both ways. Give me a call when you need to hear a good twang from west Texas. Come out and see us. Elizabeth would love that. So would I. So would your Mom. So would Bill and Sherry. You are not alone.”
I began to talk once again. Not about what I had almost done, I didn't tell anyone about that and only the dead will ever know. But I was talking and I knew, I believed, I was not alone.
Little miracles
One night I dreamed. Daisy was waiting for me in the field. She spoke to me like she did the day she died.
“Drew, what do you see?”
I looked around. I stood in the field. There was the grass, not like lawn grass, more like waves of grain, blowing in the breeze. In the distance I could see the glow.
“The field, the grass, the glow.”
“But do you really see it? Can you appreciate what you see? Like a child? Like a young pup? I remember those first days with Dale, they were grand. He was so full of life and everything we did was wonderful. It was a miracle, Drew, a miracle. We lived every day like it was a miracle, like everything was a miracle. That's a wonderful way to see the world.”
I mused on that. It wasn't the way I saw the world. Not at all. Then I wondered why Daisy was talking to me. Yeah, it was a dream, and maybe having a dog talk instead of the dead talk doesn't seem any more crazy, but it was different than the norm for me.
“Daisy, you haven't talked to me since the day you died. Why are you talking to me now?”
“The others are tired of talking to you. They feel you are not listening to them or giving their words heed. We talked about it and felt it was my turn.”
“They've given up on me?”
“No, not at all. None of us have given up on you. Each of us sees what you could be, what you should be. None of us have given up. You're the one who gave up.”
The dream ended with that. I was in our bedroom, Ann and Buster lying next to me. Sam, lying by the door, raised her head, looked at me, wagged her stub tail and smiled. I smiled back and called her name softly. She stood up, stretched, and walked over to the bed. I petted her, talked to her sweetly and looked at her as if she was a miracle. She was, you know. She has been my closest friend for years and as my, our life, changed she adapted better than I did. I looked at Ann. Truly, she was a miracle. Anyone who could put up with me was a miracle. Buster lay next to Ann, curled up on the edge of her pillow. Buster was feisty, cantankerous, he was his own man and was used to being the only man in Ann's life for many years. Yet, he let me in, he let Sam in and he let Rae in. He had adapted to the changes of his life far better than I had. He was a miracle. I could learn a lot from him. I got up out of bed and walked to Rae's room, Sam following me, Buster lifting his head, yawning as we walked out of our bedroom. I walked into Rae's room and watched her as she slept. She stretched and yawned, pulled her blanket to her chest. Another miracle.
I decided to give Daisy's approach a try, to see everything as a miracle, versus seeing nothing as a miracle.
For the past week I have been reading a biography of Albert Einstein during lunch. The next day I read that Einstein once said there are two ways to live your life. One is as if nothing is a miracle. The other is as if everything is a miracle.
Damn smart dog, that Daisy.
Author’s note: we have one backwards reference in this episode:
Mike tells Rick and Drew that they have “sand and starch” or “true grit” in episode 17 of The Hollow Men.
Next week, in episode 19 of Walking Backwards, Sam is depressed but Rae comes up with a way to help Sam get back to her normal self.
beautiful...just now catching up, worth saving