Mattered People

By Aaron Palm

Dina is a hurting mess when Ramone finds her. Little did she know just how instrumental he would become as he helps her manage the different twists, and turns that had become her life.

Together, they navigate the streets on the Island, meeting various people along the way that forever change Dina's world. From the crazy people she works for at the House, to the crazy people she calls her friends, they all help Dina discover who she is and what she wants out of life. Complete chaos ensues, and it has Dina wondering who the crazy one is suppose to be........

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 22, 2016
• ISBN: 9781483587806

Book preview

Three

One

She stood on the shore, her shoes not touching the water, but close. Her gaze was on the horizon, watching. Her hair, grabbed and pulled by the breeze off the water, was a mess. Her face, pale, with dried up tear stains that none would see.

The water was coming in for high tide. Waves were crashing in with enough force to knock you off your feet. Big waves, hiding the ones coming in behind them, littered the horizon. The sun, hidden behind dark, stained clouds that spit out a hard rain. No boats were working in the water, all were moored up, dancing in the waves. The shoreline, rocky and uninviting.

All the people had left, and gone home to have nice, hot soup that shook out the cold, damp day. Stores were closed, signs in the doorway, even though it was only six twenty in the evening. Everything closed at six, traffic was out and gone by six ten, with the ferry done at six fifteen, taking the last people back to the mainland. The crossway, or the land bridge, depending on who you talked too, was currently out of commission. A tractor trailer had overturned carrying a heavy load of wood pellets, breaking bags all over the road, spilling into the water. Guard rails, preventing people from crashing into the hard sea, were broken and tattered. Now, the cleanup had begun, leaving the road impassable, the ferry the only option back to the mainland.

The Island, on a good day, was home to 643 people. In the summer months, that number doubled, as tourists and vacationers came in for a look at the old harbor and fishing vessels. Fishing vessels, most in great need of repair. Paint, gone or splintered. Names, barely visible. No one cared. The harbor master was pretty lenient. That was until the coast guard built a station there. Then, everything changed. No one even knew who the harbor master was anymore, as the old one had left and gone inland. Too much politicalness he said.

No one could even make a good living anymore, as fish were gone, after the crossway was built. It had interrupted their swimming habits, and messed with their breeding grounds, so now only a few dedicated families still clung to the past vocation of their genealogy. Others, had left to pursue money to be had elsewhere, or simply given up. Licenses were expensive, so were the taxes, and few could afford the luxury of help. So, they worked, beaten and tired. Until the government changed the regulations, and made it so they couldn’t fish at all. They wanted time for the fish to regroup, and multiply their numbers. Meanwhile, whole villages and towns perished in the span of a few months, waiting for the regulations to end. People just can’t survive on nothing.

But here she was. Surviving. That didn’t matter. She was all alone now. No friends, no family. No baby. At least with the baby, she was never alone. Inside of her, growing. Listening. She, or at least, she thought it was a she, heard everything. She heard the yelling, the crying, sobs overtaking her body. But, she was thankful her baby didn’t see it. Or at least, she didn’t think she did. How was she supposed to know? She didn’t even know she was pregnant four months ago. No nausea, no weight gain. In fact, she had lost weight. Smoking will do that. An instant cure for IBS. Have a nervous stomach, smoke a cigarette. That will take care of it, the nicotine calming the nerves, calming the bowels. Worked for her at least. At least, that was what she told herself. Even though she had not known she was pregnant, for some reason now, she took great comfort in knowing she was not alone. But then, damn it! The baby had to have known she was hurting. That wasn’t right. Even if she wasn’t a mother now, if she had been, she would have protected her child from seeing her hurt, maybe even from being hurt herself.

Now, here she was, not pregnant. All alone. Watching the great vast sea, full of everything, and yet, you saw nothing. No fish jumping, no whales breaching. No people fishing, no birds even flying over the grey sea. Nothing.

Nothing except her. Now, she had some decisions to make. Would she move, taking her few meager possessions? Or would she stay, and face this hard-burdened land, full of want and hurt? She didn’t know what to do. The only thing she knew was not to do it. Not to walk into the water and drown her sorrow. It was freezing cold, and she honestly didn’t think she could get past that. That and she hated water. Loved to drink it, but not to be in it. Baths even bothered her. Showers were a great thing. The water skimmed over her body, carrying with it all the filth and tears from all the hurt. She felt new, after taking a shower. Or at least she did. Now, all the water in this vast sea she stared at couldn’t wash away this filth. No.

So, she stood there, contemplating. Immersed in the quiet of the sea, despite the noise of the water and wind. Closing her eyes, she inhaled, and then exhaled heavily. Again. Breathe, she told herself, breathe! Her brain heard, yet seemed as if not to respond. She felt like she was choking. Coughing, she realized she was panicking. Calm yourself! Calm yourself! The baby will…there was no baby. She was all alone. Realization came in, and then anguish.

Clutching her face in her hands, she dropped to the cold rocky ground, crying out. My baby, she wailed to herself, my baby! It didn’t matter, the words echoing in her mind. Sadness took its grip on her, and she lay there, grieving the loss of something she never knew she had. Until it was gone.

Over time, her voice calmed as she hugged herself, not even feeling the coldness of the ground, then the dampness of the water, as the tide came in, covering her. Her face, pressed into the rocks, was numb. All she heard and felt, was her own anguish. So consumed she was, that the teeth sinking into her wet sweater were not felt, until her face was pulled over the rocks, cutting it. Even then, processing what was happening was slow to come.

Her eyes, waterlogged from tears, opened to see the water pulling away from her. Then, her brain registered, she was being pulled away from the water! Stunned, her arms reached out, grabbing at the cold rocks, feeling now the pressure on her sweater as she was being dragged. Her legs started kicking, then her whole body thrashing against the pulling force. Suddenly, the dragging stopped. Her head whipped around, to be greeted by more wetness, and hair mixed with mud. Closing her eyes to avoid the sudden penetration on her face, her hands pushed at the thing assaulting her. Temporarily, it stopped. Long enough for her to open her eyes again, and see the rough shadow of a big, furry thing.

Screaming, she opened her mouth then closed it again as water, mud and hair were on her face. What is this! Opening her mouth again to scream she tasted the earth. Muddy, salty, earth. Yuck! She started to dry heave, bending over at the waist. She pushed the creature back again, as she heaved forward again, attempting to rid her body of the nastiness assaulting her. Coughing, she brought her knees under her, and opened her eyes again. Then she saw.

A creature, more misshapen then her. Wet, mangled, muddy hair was revealed to be fur. The wet thing that moments before, had been assaulting her face with its roughness, was a tongue, belonging to a mangled mess of a dog. He stood there watching her. Poised, as if ready to pounce and again lick her face. His tail ridged and straight, neck bent low, assessing her.

She spat, lifting some of the muck out of her mouth, and touched her hair. Wet, it was dripping with torn sea weed and other vegetation. The pony tail it had been in, now lopsided and tangled. Coughing again, she touched her sweater, torn from the dragging, but only a little. Her shoes were soiled and wet, as were her pants. Looking at the sea, where she had just stood, she understood now.

The waves had come in quick, covering more ground in just a few minutes then one had realized. She certainly hadn’t. Overcome by her anguish and grief, she had not realized, the very thing she was telling herself not to do, was inadvertently happening. The water had covered her, and just when her brain would have realized what was happening, if it had realized at all, it would have been too late. She would have literally drowned, in her anguish and despair.

Looking back at the haphazard dog, she softened. He had saved her. Risking his own life, he had dragged this pathetic woman to safety. Both safe now, she assessed the dog. He sat, watching her. Waiting. Almost apprehensively.

I’m ok, she told the dog. His muscles twitched, still waiting. She patted the wet earth beside her. Here.

He lurched forward. Unprepared for the sudden charge, she defended herself, only to realize he was just licking her with his nasty tongue again.

YUCK! Ok, ok, dog! she spoke to him, pushing him away. He settled and then she really saw his own fate.

He was brown, with shaggy brown hair. She couldn’t tell if it was the mud, or if he was actually brown in color. His eyes were alert, no collar. She patted his head, feeling the hard lumps on top. Caressing him, she rubbed his whole body, watching as he went still, enduring the touch. She felt his chest, revealing more hard lumps, and then a few more on his belly. She could feel his ribs, but they were barely visible beneath all the wet and muck. His tail was short and thin. She didn’t recognize the breed, a mutt perhaps.

Opening his mouth with her hands, he protested by pulling away.

Shh, shh. It’s ok.

She saw his gums, a pale pink, almost white. His teeth, she thought should be brushed, if you could brush a dog’s teeth. Did people do that? She had never owned a dog, or any animal for that matter. Her life always too busy or unstable as some put it.

He waited, stiffly, while she touched his body. His legs had several lacerations that looked like they were healing. How did you get these? She thought to herself. His back also had a few lacerations, like someone had beaten him. His neck, hair missing, was a little tender to her touch. He pulled away, and then stopped.

Stroking his fur, she saw, he was as much of a mess as she was. He was hurt too. Anyone could see his scars. They were visible, hers were not. He was cautious, as she was herself now. A gentle touch was a foreign thing, one not to be trusted. He was her; in dog form, and a male. But still. Looking at him, she felt his pain, and saw her own pain reflected in his eyes.

Looking about, she stood. No one was around, where had he come from? She had never seen this stray on the Island. Had someone lost him, or had he runaway? Looking at his back, she would have run away if it was her. He was a fairly big dog. She was not a good guess of weight, as she tried in vain not to look at her own weight. Even though, in recent months she knew she had lost weight, as her pants were now too big, shirts, had more air in them.

Hugging her wet sweater to her, she looked at him again thinking about the situation they were in. He just stared back at her, unblinking, still unsure. She wasn’t sure if that look was wondering if she was going back in the water, or wondering if she was going to hit him. She chose to ignore it. But then, she remembered what she was thinking and feeling, right before he had pulled her back away from the water.

She had felt all alone, grieving, overcome. Just then, she realized the dog saw everything. She hadn’t been alone in her grief. Just as her baby had surely heard, this dog surely saw her anguish and grief. She covered her mouth as a soft cry came from her lips. She wasn’t alone.

Looking at him, she patted her leg, and he came to her. Bending down, she buried her face in his neck, hugging him. Thank you, thank you! She thought. Sometimes, all you need to know is that you are not alone.

Standing, she looked at the water. She looked at the grey sky, and at the wasteland of nothing around her.

That’s it! she said.

He looked at her, his soft brown eyes anticipating her to move.

I’m done. That’s it! I’m moving on, she said to the air and nothing in particular. She waved her hands in the air, and shouted into the mist. I’m done! I won’t be this person! I will be stronger! Not today, but starting today! I will be stronger! I will find me again!

Looking at the dog, she suddenly felt stupid.

I just shouted into the wind. Feeling like Scarlet O’Hara, she bent down, looking him square in the eyes. Want to come? You must be hungry.

She patted her legs, walking away. Looking back, she saw his tail move back and forth as he followed her. Together they walked sullenly, bravely moving forward.

Two

Dina stood, watching the road. Where is he? She thought to herself. He had been gone for over an hour, and she had been searching for at least forty-five minutes. This had become their routine. She would let him out on the line, and then later after a few minutes had passed, she would go out calling his name. Most days, he was still on the line. But lately, he had somehow shed his collar, or broke the plastic clasp and gone off in search of whatever had a nice smell.

Today, she had checked sooner than usual. Last night he had done this very thing, and was gone for three hours before someone finally called her, and said come get your dog. So, she had, only to find him filthy and panting hard. He had gotten into something, and was happy about it, not at all bothered by the mess.

Now, she had driven around the Island several times. It was seven miles roughly, from point to point. If you took every avenue, and side street, as she had, it seemed to be a lot more. Looking into every yard, listening out the window for barking, it was an all- consuming task. And she was late for work.

Taking a drag off her cigarette, she put the truck into gear and continued down