That night, their first married, the boy held his wife’s hand.
“I know it’s not what we hoped but it’ll be all right.”
She began to weep and gripping his hand, stepped closer and whispered, “Good night husband."
He leaned toward her, then took her in his arms and the distance between them disappeared. She kissed him the way a woman sometimes does, not with her lips or her arms but with something greater than herself, like something deep in her was trying to force its way to the surface for just a moment.
The boy felt something in him warm and he remembered the cold of the field in France and heard himself praying once again for her and for time. He felt himself grow stronger and surer the way a man does when, in spite of all his failings and mistakes, a woman still somehow believes in him. And so somehow he comes to believe in himself.
He stepped back. “It’ll be all right," he said again and she nodded. She started up the stairs and turned again to look at him and saw him gazing at her. She sobbed then went ahead.
The boy climbed the stairs and found his way into the men's bunk room. Seeing a bed near the door, he settled in, closed his eyes and said a silent prayer that this might be the last night they would ever spend apart.
Jimmy Wrong had pulled his bunk away from the patch on the back wall. There was a line of men, railroaders and salesmen, stretching from it.
“Its two bits, two bits for one minute. Youse guys never seen such local talent. Keep it down. Not a word,” he whispered.
“Sweetest dreams you ever seen. Not that magazine stuff you is used to. No sir.”
A rail driver shoved the man ahead of him. “Hurry it up. That’s a minute. What you doing, trying to stop time? Give a man a hand son. Step aside.”
Jimmy Wrong hissed, “Quiet they’ll hear you old-timer. Plenty of time left. There’s a new girl in there tonight. She could strip that hard bark off you."
The railman pushed a brush salesman aside. “You done had enough.”
He leaned over and stared through the gap. “O Lordy…Look at them things. Don’t strike me blind now.”
He put both hands on the wall and began to shake, slowly at first, then wheezing, gasping for air. A quiet cry shook free from the lonely center of him, from the part that knew that this was the closest he would ever get to a woman’s heart.
“She’s crying,” he said aloud to no one. “Why’s she crying? C’mon darling, no crying now. That’ll ruin it all.”
Suddenly ashamed he stepped back.
“She’s heartbroke. I know heartbroke when I seen it.” He slammed a fist against the wall.
“Damn this world. Damn this heartbroke world. What chance do any of us have if a girl like her ain’t clean from it all.”
Then stepping away he hissed,
“Damn you Jimmy Wrong. Damn this heartbroke life. And damn this being a man, making me do these things. Here take your money. I don’t want no more of this here world. No more. It’s wrong. I know wrong when I seen it.”
He pushed away and staggered off alone.
“I’m done with wrong. Can’t stand it no more. I can’t.”
He threw the money on the floor and Jimmy swept it up.
“You’ll be back old-timer once you start feeling that old pressure at you. Nothing wrong with being a man. It’s just natural is all. You can't change what you is. None of us can.”
Outside the first sound of thunder echoed and the drizzle started.
“It’s just how we was made. It aint wrong. It’s right. Right as rain.”
The old-timer pulled himself up on the bunk over the boy and muttered to the ceiling, “Forgive me, my weakness. I’m weak in the center of me.”
The boy listened to him, then fully awake, turned to see the line.
“What’s that all about mister?” he asked.
“It’s all about wrong. See them gawkers. God forgive me. Not me. Not ever again.”
What’s this old man ranting about the boy wondered. He slipped to his feet and walked toward the line.
The brush salesman dropped another 25 cents into Jimmy’s hand. “Just a little more. One more minute. That new girl, she’s some kind of peach."
The boy felt himself suddenly worried and pushed past the silent men. He shoved the salesman aside and leaned down to the hole. There was his wife, dressed in the honeymoon gown her mama gave her,crying.
“Why’s she making such a commotion?” an older woman who worked the hotel laundry asked. Sara, among the women said “Cant you see? It’s her wedding night. Don’t you know a woman’s hurt when you seen it?”
The old woman, remembering, grew quiet then stepped forward and gently touched the girl’s shoulder like she was trying to soothe some kind of ache that she knew, trying with her own loneliness to make the girl feel less alone.
The girl looked up through her tears, then sobbed and the old woman gathered her into her arms.
“I know honey, I know,” she said. “Nothing hurts as much as love.” Sara looking on had to turn away.
“No jumping the line fella,” Jimmy Wrong said. “She’ll be pretty all night long.”
The boy felt his heart, then his fists clench.
Once a war creeps into you it never really leaves. He felt the scars on his knuckles whiten and heard his father whispering once more, “War’s over. Don’t have to keep fighting it.” But as he connected with Jimmy’s jaw something in the back of him answered, “It’ll never be over.”
The boy stepped on Jimmy’s hand and the quarters flew. He grabbed him by the shirt and lifted him, Jimmy kicking and struggling like a child. The boy dragged him to the stairs and threw him down. As the light went on in Miss Alva’s room, the boy followed Jimmy down, picked him up and hauled him out into the rain.
The boy kept beating Jimmy long after he was unconscious.His knuckles broke open and the blood from his hands mixed with the rain. And he remembered how there’s something satisfying about how a fist meets a jaw, like a bat on a ball. Like each was somehow made for the other.
Miss Alva, who knew the difference between trouble and justice, found Jimmy’s advance from where she hid it in last years corset. She stomped down the steps as the boy dragged Jimmy Wrong’s unconscious body through the mud.
As she reached them she stuffed the bills into his shirt and but still had two half dollar coins. Looking down at him she forced his mouth open dropped them in.
“You can choke on those.”
Then she took the boy’s arm and they helped each other back up out of the rain.
The women stood at the top of the stairway whispering to themselves.
Miss Alva said, “Nothing to see here girls. Just taking the trash out. Go on and settle yourselves back in. It’ll all be washed away come tomorrow.”
The boy climbed the stairs and reaching the bunk room walked to the back. The crowd of men, ashamed and unable to look him in the eye, separated as he passed.
He pushed the bed back up next to the wall near the patch, closed his eyes then stretched his bruised hand through the gap.
For a long moment he waited. Then he heard the scrape of a bed on the other side and felt a hand he knew take his.
“Good night husband," he heard her whisper.
“Goodnight my heart,” he answered.
WLM
Someday I’ll Learn to Fly Will Maguire copyright@2018 Once there was a jungle and in the jungle was a river. And the river was full of mud. There each day a herd of rhinoceros swam. Among them was a very young rhino and like all rhinos he played in the mud and ran with the herd. But at night when the jungle was quiet, flying high above the river, he could see birds. One day he asked his mother ‘Mama…will I ever fly?’ She shook her head “No son. The birds have the air and we have the mud.” “No rhino will ever fly.” And the young rhino was sad. That night he awoke to the sound of a great wind and a light like a star in the sky. And high above the jungle, flying like a bird, he saw a very old rhino. The next day he told his father “Last night I saw an old rhino fly away.” “It was just a dream son. No rhino will ever fly.” his father said. "Be grateful for the mud.” ...
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