A Long Neglected Passage

By Donald Simmons

After a long estrangement from his sister, a middle-aged man reluctantly agrees to travel to see her, as she has been given a few months to live. part of his reluctance to see her is their sordid history and the fact that as he had struggled in his personal life, and continued to do so. while he was barely making it month to month, his sister had married a wealthy man, had two beautiful children, lived in a mansion in the exclusive la jolla area near san diego; in other words she had it all and had lived like that for many years.
When he finally arrives at his sister's home he finds things aren't as they appear. when he leaves days later, his life would be changed dramatically.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Donald Simmons
• Release date: Sep 4, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301675562

Donald Simmons

I was introduced to creative writing while attending San Jose State University. Raising a family and operating my business precluded spending much time writing. As time went on I began to write more and more, finally finding my self with four complete manuscripts. Since retiring I've written three more, including DEAR MARTY,.I live in the Pacific Northwest with the love of my life, my wife Jacque. Our children and grandchildren all live within 20 miles of us.

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A Long Neglected Passage

By Donald Simmons

Copyright 2011 by Donald Simmons

Smashbook Edition

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CHAPTER 1

Having promised himself long ago that he wasn’t going to allow his family to run his life; he found himself again, feeling as though if he didn’t do this, he would always regret it. It wasn’t as if he were the prodigal son returning to the fold after seeing the world; far from it. He knew his family looked down on him, thinking him a failure, and being uncomfortable in his presence, wanting to distance themselves as if failure were a noxious odor and he were reeking of it. It wasn’t only his sister and her family, but his own children as well.

His wife’s last words to him as he climbed aboard the bus were, Jim Stone, you’re doing this for you, not for them. He knew she was right; so why was he so resentful? No one was making him do this. Linda was usually right about these things. He could never fathom how to be a part of a family, to whose members he didn’t particularly relate, nor want to. He sometimes wondered if he weren’t adopted; they all knowing it but no one wanting to tell him the real reason he was so different.

He regretted not seeing his mother before she died, nor attending her funeral. His father’s death was sudden and he wasn’t about to disrupt his life, endangering his job, and spending a ton of money to attend his funeral and had never regretted it. At the age of two, Jim’s older brother, David, age 5, died of cancer. Growing up he was told over and over, how smart his brother was, how cute he was, how loving he was; it finally dawned on Jim that his parents wanted him to be David reincarnated, but disappointing them they had nothing good to say about or to him, but were effusive about his dead brother. His older sister, Carol was not only the apple of her father’s eye; she was a veritable ocular cornucopia.

Leaving home after achieving a less than stellar record in high school; wanting to demonstrate to his family, himself and the world that he was a valiant warrior, Jim enlisted in the Army and was shipped to Vietnam, spending twelve months in constant and utter fear of being killed or severely maimed; his parent’s not giving their blessing to his choice, therefore receiving no letter from them nor sending them any, but he did receive two letters from Carol, both denigrating him and trying to make him feel guilty for hurting their parent’s feelings and disobeying their father. In the humid, verdant jungles of Vietnam, where at any time he could be the target of a booby trap, a sniper’s bullet, a bayonet ripping through his guts, or a mine blowing off half his face or a limb or two, somehow his parent’s hurt feelings weren’t exactly a priority. Jim had received an Honorable Discharge from the Service but had received a less than honorable reception from society and his family. Following his return to the United States, finding his communications with his sister had gone from bad to disreputable; she having married a man she met in college whose father owned a construction company; Jim only heard about their wedding from an old neighbor he happened to run into while grocery shopping. Trying not to show his lack of interest at not knowing of his family’s affairs, but implied he had just returned from Nam and no one knew how to reach him. When his mother had died, Carol called him to let him know when and where the funeral would be held. Telling her he wouldn’t be there, she went ballistic; hurling the phone after informing him that the family, and she, as the self-appointed spokesperson, just made a unilateral decision that he was now disowned. The Stone family now had a total of one member in good standing.

His thoughts were interrupted by a lady taking the aisle seat next to him. Placing a bag under the seat in front of her, and a magazine in the pouch, smiling at him, showing her friendliness, she then proceeded to take off her coat while sitting down, twice hitting him in the head with her elbow, both times apologizing as though that would forgive her for not standing in the aisle to remove it, as everyone with common sense did. After unencumbering herself from the coat, she told him, for the third time,

I’m awfully sorry for being such a pest; I’ve never ridden in a bus before; my husband…my late husband always drove when we went to see the kids.

Jim smiled and nodded his head as though he were interested in her story. Jim had bought a Sports Illustrated at the bus depot, giving him something to do on the long trip to San Diego, hoping he would be able to sleep most of the way.

My name is Maggie, Maggie Sorensen; it’s nice to meet you.

Hi, I’m Jim Stone.

Do you live in Portland or are you going home?

I live in a suburb, Aurora.

Oh, I know where that’s at; I live in Oregon City; we’ve lived there forty two years; I mean I’ve lived there forty two years. My husband Dave passed away in December and I’m going to visit my daughters and their children in Redding. I’m nervous about this bus trip; do you take it often?

No, I’ve rarely ridden on a bus. He thought If I could afford to fly, I would; so the bus will have to do.

I don’t drive on freeways, just around town for shopping and such; my daughters assured me that riding in a bus was the safest way to travel; I’m sure they’re right but I wish I were wearing a seatbelt.

Jim hunkered down, appearing to concentrate on his magazine, hoping he didn’t have to talk with ‘Chattering Cathy’ all the way to Redding. His thoughts went back to his first days in the military, not knowing anyone and being afraid of the future, learning that everyone he met had an interesting story to tell, and if he didn’t judge them by their appearance he could have some interesting conversations; or not. Placing his magazine in the pouch in front of him; turning to the lady, who he guessed was about sixty or sixty five; her silver hair thinning on her entire head; wearing a plain dress, probably from Sears; her skin wrinkled badly; she had an air of sadness about her, as if her grief for her husband’s death was an ongoing burden she carried with her 24/7.

Excuse me, ma’am; when it comes to names I have a terrible memory; what did you say your name is?

Maggie; Maggie Sorensen; I don’t think I caught yours.

Jim Stone; it’s nice to meet you Maggie. How long are you planning on being in Redding? Shaking her head, said,

I’m not sure; this trip wasn’t my idea. My daughters insisted that I needed to have family around me, now that I’m alone; they really want me to move down there.

How do you feel about doing that?

I’d like to see my grandchildren all the time; I like my sons-in-law; but I hate to leave the house; Ed and I bought it new when we were young; it’s where we raised our family; where Ed died. Jim could see Maggie’s eyes beginning to well up; not wanting to feel like he made her cry, he offered,

But don’t you want to see your grandkids grow up and be a part of their lives? I remember when my first wife died; I climbed into a hole and pulled the cover over my head. I lost whatever relationship I had with my kids; we’re estranged to this day. You don’t want that, do you?

How old are your children, Jim? Leaning back with his head on the headrest, looking out the window, addressing no one in particular said,

Well, let me think; my oldest, a girl named Dorothy is, I guess she’s twenty one now, and my boy would be nineteen. Turning back to meet her eyes,

I do envy you, Maggie; you have your children in your life and now you have the opportunity to be an important person in the lives of your grandkids. Beside, why would you want to live alone, having only the memories of your husband?

I’m afraid as they grow older they won’t have time to spend with me, and I’ll be alone with my daughter and her husband. I want to do things with people my age.

Can’t you do that in Redding? Jim thought,I don’t know why I’m giving anyone advise on family matters; It’s like Dick Cheney giving lessons on gun safety.

Well, I have lots of friends in Oregon City and I would hate to lose them; I’m too old to be making new friends. My son-in-law suggested I sell the house and buy one in a senior development near them, where’s there nothing but old people like me. How boring would that be?

For whatever its worth, I agree with your son-in-law; I would bet you’d meet lots of nice people with the same interests as yours and the same problems. You’d still have your friends; when they wanted to get out of town for a few days they could drive down to visit you, meet your children, and ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ over your grandchildren.

You know, it’s funny; Ed and I spent hours talking about what we were going to do when we both retired. We were going to travel all over the world, buy an RV and spend winters in Arizona or Mexico, maybe move temporarily to the south of France to see what it would be like to live among the natives; getting to know their foods and cooking and culture. But Ed developed lung cancer a year before his retirement; I retired early to take care of him during his last days. It’s funny; I spent thirty five years nursing and spent the first months of my retirement doing the same thing. Damn him; I tried to get him to quit smoking years ago; he would just quit for a few days and then go back at it. You’d think with a master’s degree he would be smart enough to quit smoking.

What kind of nurse were you, Maggie?

I spent my entire nursing career as a dialysis nurse, the last fifteen as the director of a dialysis clinic owned by a group of doctors. I made good money all those years as did Ed. He was an engineering manager for a steel company in Portland. We both made good money, put both our daughters through college, both of them graduating and marrying college boys. Turning her head to look over Jim’s shoulder to view the passing scenery; Maggie’s eyes focused on a spot a million miles away quietly offering,

All our talk of traveling and going to Europe…just so much smoke. Quickly returning to reality she said smiling, No pun intended.

I would bet, Maggie, that there are probably a thousand widows in the Redding area who also planned on traveling with their husbands following retirement, and they’re in the same position you’re in. You could put together a whole gaggle of you widows and travel the world enjoying it almost as much as if you’d done it with your husbands. Maggie, shaking her head and looking at her lap, a tear drop falling on her magazine, softly said,

I can’t imagine traveling the world with a bunch of strange women; that doesn’t sound like something I would do. I don’t know; I’ll just have to see what future holds for me. I miss Ed; I’m always thinking about him, and when I’m not, something will remind me of him. He was a wonderful man, a great husband, and our daughters idolized him. Don’t get me wrong; he wasn’t perfect, if you get my drift; but I could always count on him giving me his paycheck every week without fail.

As far as traveling with friends or strangers, I’d bet you make friends very easily; and I’d bet that if you found yourself in an environment of people your age, you’d have more friends than you could ever want.

Smiling at Jim, Maggie said, I think my daughter planted you on this bus to convince me to move to Redding. You bring up a lot of points; I guess I’ll have to give the whole idea some more thought. We’ve been talking about me long enough; where are headed, if you don’t mind me asking, that is?

No, not in the least; I’m going to see my sister in La Jolla, which is near San Diego; she’s been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and I want to see her while she still knows who I am. We haven’t talked in quite a few years, and I want to, I guess, say good-bye to her. I didn’t do that with my mother and I regret it to this day.

Maggie didn’t respond right away, as she stared straight ahead at the back of the seat in front of her, her hands rubbing her forearms. Jim, not pushing the conversation, remained silent, waiting for Maggie to respond.

I didn’t tell you about my son. Before I met Ed, I had a child by a married man, and chose to raise him by myself. Ed adopted him and gave him as much love as I could, and thought of him as his own son. His name was Kenny; he died of a drug overdose when he was nineteen. He was a rebel since he was in middle school; cutting classes, shoplifting little items at the grocery store, bullying other kids, and then he began stealing money from my wallet to buy his drugs. He was arrested for stealing a woman’s purse and spent sixty days in jail. When he got out, I didn’t see him again until we had to identify his body at the Coroner’s office. It was a terrible blow to Ed and me; I don’t think Ed ever got over it and I know I won’t.

I’m terribly sorry to hear that, Maggie. Our kids make their own decisions and we just have to learn to live with them. They both withdrew, Maggie reading her magazine, Jim trying to read his, but with the sun in his face dozed off and slept until the bus driver announcing they were going to stop in Medford and have a twenty minute layover. Jim and Maggie used the opportunity to use the restrooms and to get something from the snack bar. Jim arrived back at the bus before Maggie and after seating himself a young man sat in Maggie’s seat. As Jim was telling him the seat was taken and was not getting any cooperation, Maggie came up the aisle; seeing Jim wasn’t having any success, she tapped the young man on the shoulder and said,

Get your ass out of my seat before I tear your face off, scumbag.

The young man got up and found a seat further back. Smiling Jim noted, And I thought you were going to use psychology on that guy.

One’s communications can’t be too nuanced when dealing with strangers, especially with snot-nosed kids like him.

The bus pulled out of the depot, heading back to Hwy. 5 to continue its journey; another few hours to Redding. Winding through the Siskiyou Mountains and around and over Lake Shasta brought back memories to Jim of the first summer he and Rhonda were married. With three other couples, they had spent a week on the Lake on a rented houseboat; swimming, skiing, and drinking a lot of beer. After the sun went down they would buy some marijuana from a couple of guys who would come around in their speedboat selling the stuff, then when they were high as a kite they would skinny-dip; except for, of course, Rhonda, who wanted nothing to do with their juvenile behavior. That was Rhonda.

Both Maggie and Jim were quietly meditating, their thoughts dictated by their previous conversation; Maggie thinking of Ed and Kenny; Jim thinking of his first wife and their children. Following the return of the bus to Hwy 5 heading south, Maggie sat with her magazine in her lap, holding it with both hands yet not turning the pages; Jim resting his elbow on the window sill, his chin in his hand looking at the passing scenery, but not moving his head; it was apparent both were still contemplating their earlier conversation. Turning to Maggie, placing his hand on her forearm, Jim noted, "You know Maggie, you’re fortunate to have the options