by Greg Fowler
Be patient, Eddy…he’s on his way.
Who? Why won’t you tell me who?
You’ll see.
So Eddy waited. For who or what he had no idea…but he did come to believe one thing; this was important, this was about as important as it gets.
Go to the front window, Eddy.
It was twilight now and the orange sunset was curving into his bedroom like the happy ending of a fairy tale.
When the voice entered his mind he didn’t flinch, he just got up off the bed and did as it said. As he lodged up against the warm glass he placed his hand on one of Mr Tree’s healthy branches without a second thought. In fact, he didn’t even notice he’d done it.
Outside, Willow Street looked like the same old street. There were a couple of kids throwing a ball around down at the empty lot. Mr Carver was heading off somewhere in his car….
….to the garden store before it closed…
…and there was Heather Cooper. She was carrying a big suitcase to a waiting taxi. It looked like she was going somewhere. Somewhere exotic. Good for her.
Having observed the taxi cruise on by and, for once, feeling a sense of emotional warmth knowing that Heather’s dreams were about to come true, Eddy’s attention was captured by something at the far entrance to the street. Strolling along the footpath was a man. He was too far away for Eddy to catch any detail, but even from here he could tell the man was both destitute and driven. He was a man with a definite purpose and his clothes appeared to be worn to the point of falling off him, stitch by ragged stitch. Eddy had never seen a homeless person before, but if ever there was a case for a broad generalisation, this was it. He looked as though he’d just climbed out of some cardboard box in some dead beat alley. The thing was, dead beat alleys were the things of city life, not out here in the suburbs. So what was he doing here?
Eddy watched with burgeoning interest as the man walked up to one of the front doors down the road, the one a couple down from Nathan and Dion’s place and across the road. With hardly any hesitation he knocked on it, then knocked again. He was not going to give up.
For my son.
After the third fervent knock, someone finally answered. There was brief exchange, one that Eddy had no way of hearing, before Mr Raggedy Man got the response he didn’t want to hear. A curt, but thankful nod later, he was on his way again. Eddy gazed on as this pattern repeated itself, one front door after another. This man knew what he was looking for and he wasn’t going to stop until he found it.
Is this him?
Yes.
Three more front doors went by, the same result at each one. He wasn’t far away now, no more than four houses down from being opposite Eddy.
For my son. I must do this for him.
What’s he doing for his son?
Call him Eddy. Call him and find out.
But Eddy didn’t have to call him. Mr Raggedy Man had just found the answer he was after. Old Bill Wilson had responded to the knock this time and, after a brief conversation, he pointed over Raggedy Man’s shoulder, right to where Eddy sat in his front window.
Feeling like he’d just been picked out in police line up, Eddy watched as the face of this strange visitor to Willow Avenue turned in the direction of Bill Wilson’s finger and immediately found him. There was a moment there, a precious moment when the man’s face surged with the type of relief that Eddy could only imagine. A mighty goal had been achieved. The sort that changed lives.
Staying only long enough to shake a confused Bill Wilson’s hand, Mr Raggedy Man crossed the road and came to a point where he stood below Eddy’s window. The same spot Eddy had come to know as Mrs Elsdon’s spot.
For what seemed to be an extraordinarily long time, they said nothing. Not a word. They simply stared each other up and down. Eddy measuring this forlorn character below, and, in kind, this man measuring him. Mr Raggedy was indeed in quite a state. If he’d been within a mile of a bath recently he’d certainly not bothered with it. The grime of hard living encrusted itself not just through his rough and ready clothes but in a grunge that seemed embedded into his skin. For all of that however, for all the reasons in the world not to like him, Eddy did. He couldn’t help it.
‘Are you the boy with the Tree?’
‘I am.’
‘Oh, thank God.’ Mr Raggedy’s legs gave way and he fell to his knees. It was the act of a shattered man at the end of a very long journey. Not just a physical journey either. This man had been to Hell and back and you didn’t take that sort of trip without earning a few good scars, scars that never quite stopped stinging. ‘I’ve been looking for you for days now.’ A whirlwind of emotion whipped up inside him and before Eddy knew exactly what was going on, this sad, gentle man was sobbing in great heaves on his front lawn. The type of sobs that tapped places both above and beyond.
82. A MESSAGE FROM AFAR
Eddy was downstairs in a shot. This strange man was hurting, that’s all he knew. The rest was just guesswork and guesswork would have to wait in line.
Grandma Daisy had been caught in his wake and by the time Eddy had reached the poor soul out front, she was in the front door, trying to make sense out of this new chapter of mayhem.
She hardly said a word when Eddy helped this bedraggled man inside, and, one after another, she’d filled Mr Raggedy’s glass of water each time he’d emptied it. And that was quite a few times. If Eddy thought this was important, well, then it was.
He was so exhausted that Grandma Daisy had ended up insisting that, if he wasn’t going to have a lie down, he could at least have a good, hot shower instead. He’d taken her up on that and when he’d finished he’d found a collection of Grandpa Nevil’s old clothes neatly piled on the floor outside the bathroom. It was her pleasure, she’d said when he’d offered to stay with his own clothes. Anyway, it was too late, they were in the bin. Eddy had smirked at that. Good old Grandma Daisy.
This man had something to say, that much was blatantly obvious. Eddy figured he’d bring it up when he was good and ready… and that ‘good and ready’ wasn’t all that far away. For a while though, this man, Michael Jennings as he’d introduced himself, was savouring the fact he’d found his treasure.
It wasn’t until after dinner that he became introspective. He had something big on his mind, almost too big to come out of a sane man’s head and he was digging for the right way in. Grandma Daisy must’ve seen it too because it was she who ended up breaking the thin ice.
‘Well, if you’ll excuse me gents,’ she proclaimed, getting up out of the dining room chair. ‘I’ve got my favourite programme coming on soon and I figure you both have some business.’ With that she took her plate into the kitchen and was gone. The scene was set, but for what exactly, Eddy couldn’t even hazard a guess. He was going to find out though. Somehow this had something to do with Reagan. And if that was indeed the case, he needed to hear everything this Michael Jennings had going through that newly washed head of his.
‘Why are you looking f…for me?’ That was the crux of it, there was no use beating around the bush, not with Reagan’s fate at stake.
Mr Jennings seemed to consider this for a long time, only looking up on the odd occasion to remind himself that Eddy was watching and waiting for an answer.
‘Would I be able to see the tree?’ It wasn’t what Eddy had been expecting, but then again, the unexpected was par for the course at the moment.
‘I can’t s…see why not.’ Eddy stood up and motioned for Mr Jennings to follow him. Up the stairs and along the hallway they went, all the while Eddy could almost taste the anticipation exuding from the man behind him. When he pushed the bedroom door open to reveal the full expanse of Mr Tree and its nearly full journey around the room, there came a distinct intake of breath.
Eddy stood aside and let this relative stranger step past him. For all intensive purposes Eddy had temporarily ceased to exist. Mr Jennings’ complete attention was drawn to the walls about him, an expression of captive wonder on his
face. Reaching out, he first checked back to see if he wasn’t overstepping some mark, some stake of possession, but when Eddy gave him the nod he touched one of the leaves. He did it in a way that spoke of his need to make sure he wasn’t still dreaming, that this marvel in front of him was as real as the floor beneath his feet. Finally satisfied that he was indeed in the company of something wondrous, he turned back to Eddy. There was a resoluteness about him now, he was ready to reveal his part in this crazy sequence of events.
‘I’ve seen this tree before,’ he said solemnly. ‘In my dreams. But up ‘til now I couldn’t believe it was real. I just knew I had to find it.’
‘Why?’
‘Because then I’d find you.’
‘Me? Why me?’
‘It’s so weird. If I wasn’t standing here right now I would’ve put it down to me going mad. But here it is, here you are.’ This stranger, standing in his bedroom with his dead Grandpa’s clothes on, shook his head in disbelief as he completed a full turn, spellbound by the circumference of this magical Mr Tree.
‘Mr Jennings?’
‘Yes?’ Mr Jennings’ attention fell back on Eddy.
‘Please…I n…need to know what’s going on here.’
I have a feeling it could save someone’s life. I have a hope and I have a prayer…and that’s more than I’ve had for a while now.
‘Yes, yes, I’m sorry. Do you mind if I sit? I’m so tired and this is going to be hard to tell.’
Eddy nodded and Mr Jennings collapsed into the chair beside the desk, still struggling to take his eyes away from the glorious bed of leaves.
‘I wasn’t always like this,’ he said with a sense of shame. ‘I used to have a good job. Not great, but good enough to support a family. I had a family, I did. A lovely wife and a beautiful boy…Max, beautiful Max.’ Somewhere in that mind of his, Mr Jennings had a picture of them both, his wife and his son. And wherever it was that his mind had them, it was a bright sunny day with bright sunny smiles. But then the smiles must’ve faded because so did his. ‘We had the life, you know. Not rich, but we had our white picket fence and on a good month we could afford life’s little treats. Friday was takeaways, I remember that. I would always bring home takeaways after work and Max would be so excited. He was so, so special. He was our blessing, mine and Becky’s.’
‘What h…happened to them, Mr Jennings?’
Michael Jennings’ chest hitched and it was obvious he was fighting to drag up memories that were hidden way down deep; deep enough so that if you wanted them back you really had to go looking. Eddy didn’t necessarily like having to put him in this painful place but this was a rung on a ladder, and the ladder might just take everyone to a better place.
‘It was Easter Weekend. We had the whole long weekend laid out in front of us. Max didn’t know yet but we were going to take him up North to see snow for the very first time. He always talked about playing in the snow. Every time it would snow on TV he’d chirp up about it. ‘Can we go to the mountain one day Dad?’ ‘We can make snow angels together.’ Trouble is, we either couldn’t afford it or we didn’t have the time in our busy schedules.’ Mr Jennings let out a painful chuckle, one that now understood the power of hindsight and how priorities can be elusive things. ‘So in the end, me and Becky, we sat down early in the year and said this time we’re gonna do it. We were going to put a bit aside every pay day and we were going to take a trip to the mountain. Three days we’d stay there. Even had the hotel booked, ski passes and everything. Three days. Can you imagine how many snow angels you can make in three days?’
Eddy couldn’t answer that one. It wasn’t his place to.
‘I don’t know who was more excited that week leading into Easter, me or Max. I didn’t sleep at all that Thursday night. Heck, I was like a kid the night before Christmas. We were going on holiday. How cool was that. Still, Max beat me out of bed that Good Friday morning. He was lodged between us, under the covers from about 4am I reckon. ‘Is it time yet? Is it time yet?’ As shattered as I was, I was also happy. I only wished I knew then exactly how happy.’
‘So we got up about an hour too early and watched Max run on adrenalin. No breakfast for him that morning. He was way too excited to eat. I remember Becky saying we’d get something up the line a bit. That was our code for McDonalds, but if we came right out and said it, it’d probably blow Max’s mind…excitement overload.’
‘You know, I look at kids now and I envy them. They get excited about the smallest of things. Things that us adults just overlook or take for granted. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be like that again. The little things can make every day an adventure and yet we just look right over top of them like we’re searching for something bigger. We miss the point, Eddy. We miss it big time.’
Eddy nodded in agreement. He was spot on with that insight. It was butterfly wings versus that report due Wednesday. Both mattered, and that was the point.
‘We’d packed everything the night before,’ continued Mr Jennings. ‘Becky was one of those kitchen sink packers. If there was even the slightest possibility we might need it, then she packed it. I didn’t mind. I sort of liked it actually. It was part of what made her who she was. If anything, it was handy. On the off chance you did need something, it was there. And when that did happen she’d give me that ‘I told you so’ look and I’d just smile and make a face at her. Some people say chalk and cheese. Well, we were cheese and crackers. Different, but we worked well together. Max was proof of that.’
‘I couldn’t count how many times Max stood out by the front door, just waiting for us to turn up with the house keys and set our holiday in motion. He was really busting a gut. He must’ve spent half that morning down on the carpet, practicing his snow angels in advance. He was going to be the King of Snow Angels he reckoned. And I believe he would have been.’
‘I saw him there, waving his arms and legs on the floor……why didn’t I see him when it mattered?’ Michael Jennings asked this question of no one but himself. The tough part was coming now, the part that no hot shower could ever rinse away. ‘I loaded up the back of the station wagon. I figured I’d throw it all in the back so Max had room to stretch out in the back seat. He always fell asleep on road trips. The suitcases and carry bags touched the roof. I couldn’t see him, Eddy. They were just too high.’ And then the pain arrived. ‘They were too high,’ he repeated as the agony of the memory tracked across his face.
Eddy could feel the suffering resonating around the room. Not bouncing off cold corners but riding the circle of Mr Tree in an inward spiral, so that it came to rest between them. Moving on instinct alone, he walked over to where Michael Jennings sat in the midst of his misery. He knelt down and placed a hand on this man’s shoulder; this man who was old enough to be his father.
‘It’s o…okay Mr Jennings. I’m here.’
Through tear soaked eyes Mr Jennings regarded him as not a sixteen year old boy with Down Syndrome, but as something that had to be. Somewhere, in some barely imaginable place, someone had ordained this most unusual of meetings. Today was going to be a milestone in his life, a life that had seen too many landmarks fade into the distance already.
‘It’s my fault,’ whispered Mr Jennings.
‘No it’s not.’
‘It’s all my fault,’ he insisted. ‘I packed the wagon. I should have known. I just…I just thought Max could sleep.’
‘It’s not your f…fault Mr Jennings.’
‘He was just so excited. I didn’t see him behind me. He wasn’t supposed to be in the driveway…and I felt it…I felt the car hit him. I felt him go under.’ This was the haunting of Mr Michael Jennings. This was the thing that tore his world apart and allowed the demons to burst through so that they scratched and tore at his very being with their angry, unforgiving talons. ‘It was just a bump. I didn’t see him.’
‘Look at me.’ Eddy gently shook Mr Jennings’ shoulder. ‘L…look at me please.’
Slowly, uncertainly, Mr Jennings did as h
e was told, wiping the moisture from his eyes, only to make room for more.
‘You’ve seen him, ha…haven’t you?’
Mr Jennings nodded.
‘In your dreams?’
Another nod. ‘My life ended that day Max died. Everything did. I held him in my arms. Becky was screaming but I couldn’t hear her. I couldn’t hear anything. The world went quiet and all I could see was Max. So sweet, so innocent. He was only four. So beautiful. And he was gone. No snow angels, just dead. And I love him. I love him so much.’ A whole new wave of emotion crushed the poor man. These tears had been waiting far too long and now they were here to make the most of it. They were two years old and that was old enough.
‘Tell me about the dreams.’
‘Becky blamed me. She never came right out and said it, but she told me in other ways. It could never be the same after what happened. She left me in the end. Cheese and crackers just didn’t go together anymore.’
‘I guess I helped it along. It was like the world just stopped being what it used to be. All I could see was a bunch of meaninglessness that wasn’t even worth getting out of bed for. I mean, how could reconciling a tax declaration ever mean anything? People die, my son died and people were worried about decimal points. The world had lost it as far as I was concerned. Trouble was, it was actually the other way around.’
Michael took a deep breath in an effort to collect himself.
‘So not only did I lose my son, I lost my wife, my job and my house. I was so numb, I just let them slip through my fingers.’
‘I spent what little money I had left and then I guess I just fell through the cracks. It’s surprising how easy it is to do. One day I was on my way for a wonderful holiday with my gorgeous family and the next, I’m out on the street, not a spare cent in my pocket.’
‘That’s when the nightmare’s started. I just kept reliving the driveway over and over again. And that bump, that horrid bump…. it just went on and on. I couldn’t make it go away. I didn’t even have the money to drink it away. So in the end I just gave up sleeping. I ran from the Devil. I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in over a year and a half. A year and a half, Eddy. I was going crazy. The sleep deprivation was killing me but those nightmares, they were ripping my head apart.’
