[Mark Taylor 01.0] No Good Deed

by M. P. McDonald

The turkey sandwich was dry, but not bad, and he washed it down with a gulp of water. A granola bar rounded out the meager meal. Taking another sip of the water, he reasoned that he’d survive the three hours to Madison easily.

  The bus made a few stops on the way towards the Wisconsin border. At one, a young guy took the seat beside Mark. The buzz cut and his politeness as he asked Mark if the seat was taken, had Mark guessing he was a new basic training grad even before the guy mentioned it. He told Mark he was on his way home on his first leave before starting A school at Great Lakes Naval Base.

  Mark smiled and nodded, hoping the kid wouldn’t talk the whole way, but he didn’t have to worry; the second the bus began moving, the sailor fell asleep.

  In a way, Mark envied the guy. Fatigue burned his eyes, but, there was too much on his mind, too many things had happened in too short a time, for him to relax. The feeling haunted him that if he closed his eyes, he’d wake up back in the cell.

  Resting his head against the window, he watched the flat Illinois farmland slide by. Ragged rows of corn stretched on either side of the highway, the shriveled tan leaves flapping in the wind.

  Dairy farms, dotted with cows huddled in the corner of the pastures, grass worn down to bare patches from last summer’s grazing, alternated with the jarring rawness of new housing developments. It was as if a stray wind had dumped the seeds for subdivisions, leaving them to sprout up randomly across the landscape.

  Mark yawned. His childhood had been spent in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere too, but at least there had been a whole village with a town hall, a main street and even a movie theater. Summers had flown by, the memories melding together into a warm golden haze of playing baseball on an empty lot, and then heading to the Dairy Maid to get ice cream afterwards. As soon as dinner was over, they all met up again for one more game of ball before it was too dark to see. Then they would catch lightning bugs or play kick the can. Mark smiled. Sometimes they’d put the poor bugs in the can before playing, and when it was kicked, the bugs had shot out like a shower of living sparks. It had been a great place to grow up.

  When was the last time he had been home? He shifted in the seat, his cheek resting on the ice cold pane of glass. It felt good in the overheated bus. His dad’s sixtieth birthday was the last time he could remember. That was the June before the terrorist attacks. Mark recalled sitting on his parents’ front porch and watching the neighborhood flicker at dusk as the bugs flashed yellow up and down the street. Childish laughter had echoed from the backyard of some house as a new crop of children carried on the summertime traditions.

  He should have gone home more often. It wasn’t like his parents didn’t invite him. His mother understood though. She knew that he didn’t like to be away from Chicago. She didn’t know about the dreams or camera, but he had a feeling that she knew there was something important in Chicago. Mark wondered if a previous owner of the camera had been from a city. He had lost count of the number of times he had studied the camera, searching for a clue to its power. Was there a previous owner? The camera was old, so it likely had a series of owners.

  Was it just chance that brought it into a person’s hands or did the camera decide who would get it? Where was it now? Had someone else discovered the unusual properties it possessed and did they get the premonitions? The bus hit a pothole and his head bumped against the window. If they got premonitions, would they recognize them as such and know that they could change things? Well, some things anyway. Mark grimaced. Some things weren’t meant to be changed. His stomach tightened and he took a deep breath.

  The sailor stirred and stretched, narrowly missing Mark’s head with a clenched fist. He opened his eyes, his mouth rounding in surprise when he saw where his hand was. “Oh, wow. Sorry, man.”

  Mark shrugged. “No harm done.” He fished in his pocket for the pack of gum and offered a piece to the sailor.

  “Sure. Thanks.” He slid a piece out and popped it into his mouth.

  Taking one for himself, Mark put the pack away and wondered what time it was. He noticed the watch on the other guy’s wrist. “Hey, you got the time?”

  “It’s about a quarter to four.” The sailor smiled. “I can’t wait to see my girlfriend. She was going to come down for my graduation, but she had finals. She goes to UW-Madison. My parents wanted to come too, but couldn’t get off work.” He made a face and shrugged. “It wasn’t a big deal though. At least I’ll be staying at Great Lakes awhile so I can come up to see them pretty often.”

  He chewed the gum and pulled his wallet out, flipping it open to a picture of a smiling young woman with short red hair. She had a delicate nose and a heart-shaped face. He beamed as he showed it to Mark.

  “Cute girl. You’re a lucky guy.”

  “She didn’t want me to enlist, but after nine-eleven, I just had to, ya know?”

  “That’s great of you. I’m sure your parents must be very proud.” Apparently the stick of gum acted as an ice breaker.

  “How about you?”

  The gum lodged in Mark’s throat for a second. “Ah, no, I didn’t enlist.”

  The sailor laughed. “No, that’s not what I meant. I figured you’re too old to enlist. I meant are you going to see someone special?”

  Mark didn’t know whether to be offended about the age comment or relieved that the conversation had shifted off nine-eleven. He chuckled and shook his head. “Nope. No girlfriend. I’m going home to see my parents.”

  “No girlfriend? Are you married?” His eyes darted to Mark’s left hand. “Guess not. Divorced?” His face scrunched in sympathy, and before Mark could set him straight, he went on, “That’s gotta be rough. I’m sure you’ll find someone else soon.”

  Mark began to correct him, but then thought better of it. It didn’t matter. He just nodded. “Yeah. Maybe.”

  “Aw, now don’t get all down. You’re decent looking. I’m sure you’ll hook up with someone eventually. I’ve heard some people use those Internet dating sites. You could even use your own picture. Even though you’re kind of old, the chicks might go for you. They like tall guys with dark hair. This one guy in my unit looked a little like you, except, well, you have more hair.” He laughed at his joke, then continued, “He got letters all the time from different girls. One time...”

  Mark tuned him out, just nodding and occasionally saying ‘uh-huh.’ Two days ago, he had thought that he would give anything to have another person to speak with, but now that he was out, he found it difficult to make small talk.

  It wasn’t the kid’s fault and Mark tried to pay attention, but his mind wandered. His future was shot to hell and he faced an uphill battle to get his life back together. Just trying to figure out where to start left him drained. Then, at odd moments, he would flash back to his cell or an interrogation. It didn’t take much to trigger it. A word, a smell, and sometimes, nothing at all. It just happened. When it did, his muscles tensed up and he would break out in a cold sweat.

  Mark rubbed his palms on his thighs and craned his neck to see past the sailor and on out the other window. Along the highway, a sign said that Madison was only fourteen miles away. At least they were close to their destination.

  “So, they coming to pick you up from the bus station?”

  “Huh?” Mark had completely lost track of the sailor’s monologue.

  “Your folks. You said you were going home to see them.”

  “Oh, yeah, I am, but no, they’re not expecting me.” Mark crossed his arms and turned towards his window. “I’ll probably catch a local bus in Madison, take it to the edge of town and walk from there.” He could use the time to think. Already, he second guessed his impulse to come home unannounced. His leg bounced. What if they didn’t want him there? Mark shook that off. His mom, at least, would be happy to see him. He was sure of that.

  Had his detention been mentioned in the paper? Leaning an elbow on the window ledge, he rested his chin in his palm and hoped his dad hadn’t died of embarrassment. He sighed.


  “Hey, man...you okay?” The sailor touched his shoulder and Mark flinched. The sailor reeled back, his hands up as though to ward off an attack. “Whoa! Take it easy.”

  Heat crept up Mark’s face, and he shook his head. “Sorry, I’m just a little jumpy.” He wasn’t sure why he felt a need to explain his actions, but he added, “I haven’t seen my parents for over a year, and, well, I’m just a little nervous about seeing them again.”

  The sailor nodded, his expression sober. “I understand.” He was quiet for five minutes or so. Mark felt bad for reacting the way he had.

  It figured that he would scare off the very first person to talk to him normally in over a year.

  “It’s going to be dark out soon. I’m sure my parents wouldn’t mind giving you a lift.”

  The sailor was like young puppy, and even though Mark kept nudging him aside, the kid came back for more. Mark saw the earnestness in his eyes. “My parents live about ten miles north of the city. That’s way out of your way, I’m sure.”

  His face lit up. “No, it’s not. We live in the north end, just inside the city. They won’t mind.”

  The kid looked so eager, Mark didn’t have the heart to say no, so he shrugged. “Well, ask your parents when you see them. If it’s okay with them, I’d appreciate a ride.”

  “Great!” The sailor grinned. “Wow, I don’t even know your name.” He stuck a hand out. “I’m Tommy Wilson.”

  Mark looked at the hand, then shook it and smiled. “Mark Taylor.”

  A few minutes later, the bus pulled into the station. The driver exited and began unloading the luggage from the compartment underneath the bus. Mark stood and stretched. Tommy zipped up his coat and peered out the windows. His face broke into a grin and he pointed. “There they are!” His enthusiasm made Mark smile. The kid was practically dancing down the aisle of the bus.

  Mark followed and stood back as Tommy hugged his parents. They were all talking at once, smiling and laughing. The reunion went on so long that Mark began to sidle away, figuring Tommy had forgotten about him. With a last look at the happy family, he turned and shoved his hands into his pockets. There was only about an hour of light left and he quickened his step.

  “Mark! Where ya going?”

  He turned to see Tommy jogging towards him. “I...ah, well, I don’t want to bother anyone.”

  “Naw, no bother. My parents are okay with it. Come on.” Tommy made a follow motion with his hand and turned back towards the parking lot.

  Mark saw no graceful way out of the situation and as a cold wind whipped his hair around, he decided that a nice warm car was preferable to walking in the frigid dark. He just hoped there wouldn’t be too many questions.

  Tommy made introductions, and his parents greeted Mark with in a friendly tone, although his dad, who wasn’t much older than Mark, did study him for a long moment before saying, “Well, I’m freezing, so let’s get going.”

  Mark trailed behind the group and got in the backseat beside Tommy. He gave the father the address then settled back, listening to the parents quiz Tommy on what had gone on in basic. Had it been hard? Were the drill instructors mean? Was the food good? He was glad for all the chatter because it allowed him to remain silent.

  Tommy borrowed his mother’s cell-phone and called someone, and judging from the grin on the kid’s face and the way he turned away from the rest of the car, Mark guessed it was the girlfriend.

  Tommy’s dad glanced at Mark in the rear-view mirror. “So, Tommy said you’re going home to see your folks.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Sir? That’s awfully formal. My name’s Jeff.” Every few seconds, he would take his eyes off the road and look at Mark. “I bet they’ll be glad to see you.” Was there a hint of a question in that statement?

  Mark nodded, meeting Jeff’s gaze for an instant before averting his eyes. The other man knew something. He could tell by the tone of his voice and how he regarded Mark. Feeling a need to fill the silence and to answer an unspoken question, Mark said, “They’re not expecting me. I want to surprise them.”

  “You live in Chicago?” He was digging.

  “Yes, sir.” Mark didn’t offer more. He squirmed and glanced at Tommy, who was oblivious to everything except the voice on the other end of the phone.

  “Are you military? You sound like it.”

  “No, sir..., uh, Jeff. I’ve just been around military people a lot lately. Guess it wore off on me.” He tried to chuckle and make a joke, but it fell flat.

  The car stopped at a light and Mark saw Jeff exchange a glance with his wife. The light turned green and Jeff focused his attention on driving and didn’t ask Mark any more questions. The rest of the drive continued with only Tommy’s voice breaking the silence.

  “Thank you for the ride. I appreciate it.” Mark wanted to jump out of the car before it came to a complete stop in front of his parents’ house, but instead, he tried to smile at the Wilsons. “It was a pleasure meeting all of you.” Mark opened the door and shook Tommy’s hand again. “You take care, and good luck with the Navy.” With a last wave, he shut the door and began walking up the drive.

  The house looked the same as he remembered. The porch, with its white spindle railing, hugged the sunny yellow home. The flower beds lay fallow, but he pictured them bursting with flowers as they usually were in the summer. The memory was so vivid, he could almost hear the lazy buzz of the bees that had been a melody from his boyhood. How many times had he sat on those steps and guzzled lemonade underneath a blazing summer sun?

  The second floor was dark, but warm light shone from the front windows, and he knew that the kitchen in the back would be bright. Mark sniffed. Wood smoke. His dad always loved a good fire in the fireplace. He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and mounted the steps.

  Should he knock? Normally, he just walked in because his parents never locked the door. There was never a need. He didn’t want to scare them though. He compromised and knocked, then opened the door a tiny bit. “Hello?” The scent of wood burning mingled with another tantalizing aroma. Beef stew?

  Mark winced as something in the kitchen hit the floor with a loud crash. Then his mom’s face peeked around the corner from the kitchen into the long hallway to the front door. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Mark?” She looked like she didn’t believe her eyes, then she gave a shriek and flew towards him and into his arms. “Oh my God! It really is you.” She alternated between hugging him and pulling back to see his face. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “Norma? What the hell is going on?” The basement door opened and his dad, his protective goggles pushed up on top of his head, froze as he saw Mark. “Jesus Christ!”

  His mom broke away, but kept an arm around Mark’s waist. “Mark’s home, Gene. He came home!”

  Not seeming to comprehend, his dad looked from Mark to his wife for a few seconds before he finally moved, his steps hesitant as he approached.

  Mark swallowed hard. “How have you been, Dad?”

  His father’s steps quickened. “Mark.” It was all he said, but it was enough. In a heartbeat, his dad’s arms were around him, his hand going up to the back of Mark’s neck and pulling him close. “We’ve missed you, son.” His voice was thick.

  Wood shavings clung to his dad’s flannel shirt and he smelled of pine and varnish. Mark could only nod and his throat swelled. He sighed when his mom reached up and feathered his hair.

  His dad broke off the hug and took a step back, eyeing him from head to toe. “Are you okay? Did they treat you well?”

  Mark saw the worry on his mom’s face, and said the only thing he could, “Yes, sir. I’m fine.” He tried to smile, but then had to duck his head and bite his lip to keep his emotions in check. “I don’t really want to talk about it now, if that’s okay.”

  She ran her hand up his arm, stroking it gently, and tilted her head. “Oh, hon, we don’t have to. Are you hungry? Dinner is almost ready.”

  “I’m starved.” Mark di
d smile then, and rubbed his hands together. “I can’t wait to taste your cooking again.”

  His dad clapped him on the back. “It’s good to have you home.” Nodding, his lips tight, he turned and abruptly went back to the basement.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Steam rose from his plate. Mark closed his eyes and inhaled. Damn. It smelled great. The carrots and celery added color to the stew. Big pieces of beef swam in thick gravy, bumping up against chunks of potatoes. Two corn muffins perched on the edge of the plate where they dripped melted butter to mix with the gravy.

  Mark took a bite and knew he was home. His mother poured him a tall glass of milk and he gulped it. “Ah. This is great, Mom.” He swiped his hand across his mouth and dug into the mound of food on his plate.

  His mother beamed and hardly touched her meal. Every time Mark looked up, he found her watching him like he might disappear any second.

  “Your son is right. This is a wonderful meal, Norma.” Using his muffin to sop up some gravy, his dad made quick work of eating. “I bet you didn’t get food like this in prison.”

  Cornbread lodged in Mark’s throat, and he thought he might gag. Grabbing his milk, he took a swallow. “No, sir. Nothing like this.” He still had a half a plate of food, but his stomach churned and his appetite had deserted him. He poked at the carrots with his fork.

  Prison. Did that make him an ex-con? He had never been convicted of anything. Hell, he had never even been charged with anything. He felt his mother looking at him and kept his head down.

  “I didn’t think so. You look kind of skinny, but no worries, your ma will put some meat back on your bones.” His dad chuckled and laid his fork and knife across his plate.

  “Gene.” She gave him a stern look.

  “What? It’s true.” He patted his stomach. “Got any dessert?”

  “There’s apple pie.”

  Mark bit the end of a piece of carrot, but couldn’t manage any more. He sat back and gave his mom an apologetic smile. “Dinner was delicious, but I guess my eyes are bigger than my stomach.” After the talk of his weight loss, he wanted more than anything to polish off his dinner, but he just couldn’t.