JJ in the 21st Century

Moondance Part 3, The Graveyard

/ David Ferland / 1 Comment

They reached the back of the cemetery which was surrounded by an iron fence to keep the wilderness away from the dead.  Or vice versa.  The fence was about seven feet tall with arrow points at the tops of vertical iron bars.  It looked medieval and brutal in the moonlight.  JJ and Lila paused to take it in.

“There’s an opening to the right,” JJ whispered.  He took Lila’s hand and they moved along the fence.  A fetid sweet odor rose as they neared the opening.  The grounds crew dumped the grass trimmings and grave flowers here and the moist smell of rot hung as the mound steamed in the moonlight.  They paused again.  “Have you gotten any signs yet,” he asked and squeezed Lila’s hand.

“I’m trying to ignore them,” she said.  It was colder down here and she pushed closer to JJ.  “Wow, look at that!”

JJ looked where she pointed and saw three deer in the clearing beyond the compost mound, along the fence, outside the cemetery.  They were totally still and looking at JJ and Lila, some chastisement in their tense but placid gaze.  They looked like constellations in the moonlight, eyes and white tails shining.

“Let’s get closer,” JJ said.

“No,” Lila whispered.  “Don’t move.  Give them space.”

“C’mon, let’s at least go in the gate.”  He started moving to the opening and the deer started, twitched.

“You’re scaring them, they feel trapped.”

“C’mon,” JJ said and pulled Lila toward the gate.  The deer all spun in place, looking for a way out of their graveyard cul-de-sac.  Tangled undergrowth behind, dense and impenetrable.  Iron fence on one side.  Two people approaching in the middle of the escape route.  “Stop,” Lila said and yanked JJ to a halt.

The first deer sprung nimbly over the fence into the cemetery and bolted out among the gravestones, followed by the second.  The third deer, smaller, sprung to follow and his front legs cleared the tips of the iron rungs.  But his belly came down on top of the fence and he was kicking his hind legs, panicked now and frantic.  He screeched, the sound like the air released from a pinched balloon nozzle.  He bucked and kicked, his head and fore legs tipping lower toward the ground on the cemetery side until gravity took over and he summersaulted into the cemetery and ran to follow the others.  One of the iron points glistened wet in the moonlight.

They stood gaping in the sudden silence, stunned.  “Why couldn’t you wait,” Lila moaned and moved away from JJ.

JJ stared at the spot where the deer had been stuck on the fence.  It was cold and clammy here now, the mystery gone, the shadows ominous, the anticipation of being together turned to dread.  This is how a cemetery becomes a graveyard, JJ thought.  A graveyard for possibilities.

“Walk me back,” Lila said.  The signs were not good.

Moondance Part 2, A Walk to the Graveyard

/ David Ferland / 3 Comments

As the farm-warming party wound down, Pierre strummed and sang, “Je ne peux pas avoir juste une danse avec toi mon amour?”  Lila looked over to the fire and felt the chill of the cold shoulder from the guys over there. “They hate this,” she said to Carl’s wife, Anne.

“Yeah well, it’s good for them to see.  And it’s good for us.”  They watched JJ and Carl in the circle of firelight.  Carl reached down for a rock, showed it to JJ, and said something that made JJ smile.  Anne said, “They probably want to kill Pierre with that rock.”

Lila laughed and Anne turned back to Pierre.  But Lila kept watching JJ and Carl in the firelight.  The cold moping over there had passed and JJ was more at ease.  These days, he was able to pull out of the dark moods and be loose and funny, like he used to be.  Was it the money, the ridiculous lottery winnings?  This stupid farm that he bought?  Maturity?  What a horrible word, Lila thought.  Horrible goddamn maturity.

Then JJ and Carl were coming over and Lila thought they really were going to bludgeon this French guy and crush his little Euro guitar.  “Hey,” JJ said.  “We just came over to kick mon ami’s ass.”

“Funny,” Lila said.  “Are you having fun?”

“Yeah.  But we’re going for a walk in the woods. Do you all want to come?”

Lila hesitated and looked at Anne but Anne ignored them. Lila said, “Where did you get this French guy?”

“I thought he came with you,” said JJ.

“Are you kidding?  I’m only listening to him to piss you off.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, let’s take that walk and leave these bums behind.”

Carl said, “I’m standing right here.”  But then he sighed, walked over to Anne and put his arm around her leaving JJ and Lila alone on the fringe.

They walked away and the night surrounded them.  The fire and the music seemed far away as they headed down the hill.  It was another dimension out here, all shimmery silver light and shadows of shadows.  People need to walk in the moonlight, JJ thought.  It’s the world in negative, a bizarro world where things can happen and time and distance are warped and stretched like Dali clocks.  JJ felt furtive and alive.

They reached the tree line and JJ said, “The back of the South Street cemetery is down this trail.  Let’s go look at it in the moonlight.”

The woods closed in and they soon reached a small clearing where they stopped and turned to each other.  Their hands joined and they stood in the moonlight, still themselves with all their history, but also new to each other, cast in this strange light.  Nature’s masquerade.

“Well,” JJ said.  “What are we going to do?”

“I’m waiting for a sign,” Lila said.

“So let’s walk to the graveyard and see what happens.”

“Ok.  I really don’t know what we’re doing.”

“We never did,” JJ said.  And they continued down the path toward the cemetery.

It’s a Marvelous Night for a Moondance

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“Remember that time Benny was on crutches and had to hide in the bushes from the cops.  He couldn’t run.  He just kind of toppled himself into these shrubs…”

JJ, Carl, and their old friend Stevie D sat by the fire on JJ’s farm.  The farm-warming party was winding down.  The full moon was up and it was a big ol’ autumn moon to behold.  Some Euro hipster (Pierre?  Sven?) was playing guitar for a few of the ladies and Lila was eating it up, of course.  Carl’s wife was over there, too.  Their group sat apart, away from the fire because, according to Lila, the fire spoiled the moonlight.  The Euro started singing a familiar melody in French, “it’s a marvelous night for a moondance”.  All the girls laughed.  JJ wanted to find a rock that fit his palm and just club this guy, with his wispy beard and European ease, just club him into the ground.

Carl said, “And then we circle back and that sorry bastard is crutching down the road at two in the morning.  He was so pissed off!”  Carl and Stevie D laughed.  JJ managed a thin smile.

When JJ thought back to the old hijnks he didn’t feel the hilarity anymore.  He felt like he was entering a swamp, a wet sucking at his feet making it hard to move and releasing a reek of regret.  The capers, the pranks.  It was all fun, of course.  But it was tangled with the old feelings of being doomed and baffled.  Drunken escapades into the suburbs to drive on lawns and party on golf courses and beaches.  The cops came and you fled to another spot.  Always another spot and more cat and mouse.  JJ felt like he played cat and mouse his whole life with sadness and regret.  He would plug the hole for awhile with a girlfriend or city, then it would start oozing again.  He looked at Lila.  A surge of … warmth?  Longing for sure.  Caring, yes.  Then came the ooze of sadness and regret, the old resentments.

Carl leaned over and said into JJ’s ear, “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Wallowing.”

“Whadaya mean?”

“Move forward.  Fuck the past.”

“I’m just…I think it’s time for bed.”

“Stay with me, man.  Right here, right now.”

Stevie D shambled off to find something to drink and JJ and Carl sat looking into the fire.  They listened to the singing and the laughing but JJ did not look over.  The Euro sang, “Je ne peux pas avoir juste une danse avec toi mon amour?”

“I seriously want to crush that guy’s skull,” Carl said.  He reached down and picked up a rock that fit his palm.  “This look about right?”

“Yeah,” JJ said.  “Perfect.”  He smiled, a real smile.  “I’ll get the shovel.”

“It’s not that kind of farm.”

/ David Ferland / Leave a comment

“There were a whole bunch of US Government cars at that house down the street yesterday.  They were having a picnic,” JJ said. 

            “I’d be worried,” Carl said.  “You move in and the Feds are here in force?  There are no coincidences with the Feds.”

            “Seriously, they were playing horseshoes and Wiffle Ball.”

            “Some kind of team building thing.  Probably telling Canada jokes.”

            “Do you know any Canada jokes?”

            Carl put a finger to his temple.  “I only know the one where Canada is known as America’s Hat.”

            “So what does that make Mexico,”  JJ asked.  “America’s underwear?”

            “You know we can’t talk bad about the Mexicans.  Canadians are fair game.”

            They sat on chairs on JJ’s farm.  The barn was almost converted into an indoor basketball court.  JJ had wanted to add a hot tub courtside but the town wouldn’t allow it for some reason.  So there was a gazebo outside the house where the hot tub would go.  That was fine.  Everything would be ready by winter.

            “The farming life is not as hard as I’ve heard,” Carl said.  “When is the farm warming party?”

            “Next week.  Labor Day.”  JJ could see across the valley to the ridge on the other side, trees standing out all along the ridgeline, marching up the slope.  It was a cool evening after a hot day.  Late August in New England.  The best.

            “Who’s coming?”
            “Everyone.  Family, too.”

            “Lila?”

            JJ shrugged.  He pictured Lila walking down the hill to where they sat near the barn.  Then he saw her stalking away last spring, snow still on the ground, on the day he bought this place.  JJ had been busy since then.  He was helping grad students plant native trees.  He shopped for gym flooring and talked to contractors about eco-friendly materials.  He had friends over at night to cook sausages on the fire and look out over the valley.

            “Is Lila coming,” Carl asked.

            “We’ll see,” JJ said.

            “She’ll come.  Out of curiosity.  She wants to be around to see if you train wreck.”

            “Yeah, or to gloat,” JJ said.  “To say I told you so.”

            “Or,” said Carl.  “More likely, to pick up the pieces.  And put you back together.”

            JJ sighed, “She’s done it before, I guess.  But hey, let’s play horseshoes before you go.  I made a pit for the party.”

            “You got horses on this farm?”

            “I told you,” JJ said.  “It’s not that kind of farm.”

Last Summer: Back to Work

/ David Ferland / Leave a comment

Carl picked JJ up for the night bake.  “She did it again,” Carl said.  “I go to bed early, get some pretty good sleep.  It’s her day off.  I wake up at 11:00, she’s already gone to the beach with her friend.  I mean, what the hell?  No note, no nothing.”

“Did you tell her you wanted to do something?”

“I thought I did.  I mean, it’s obvious.  We live together.  When we have time off we should do stuff together.”  Carl pulled into the Dunkin Donuts drive-thru.  Several cars in line, every night.  Night nurses, night construction workers, night bakers.  America really does run on Dunkin.  “How did you sleep?”

“I didn’t.”  The quality of sleep was always a topic for night bakers.  “I was too amped.”

“What about?”

“Take a guess.”

Carl stared at JJ.  “Not…No fuckin way.  Don’t mess with me, JJ!”  JJ tried to keep a poker face but the look on Carl’s face forced him to smile.  The car behind tooted gently to let them know the line moved.  Carl looked in the mirror.  “Eat me,” he said and moved up.

“It really happened.”

“No!”

“Yes.”  JJ took out an envelope and shook the ticket out to show Carl.  It was folded in a printout of the winning numbers from the lottery website.

“Holy shit,” Carl whispered as he examined the evidence.  Then, “Why didn’t you call me?  If I hadn’t reminded you’d have thrown the ticket away or smoked it or something.”

“I didn’t want to wake you.  And I knew I’d see you tonight.  And I don’t smoke anything anymore.”

“You kept this to yourself all day?”

“Well,”  JJ said and looked away.  “I told Lila.”

Carl hit the steering wheel with both hands.  “Moron!”  He eased up to the order board.  “Two large coffees, one black and one light and sweet.”

Carl said, “How much?”

“Six point seven million.”

They moved up to the window, paid and got their coffees.  When they pulled onto the street Carl said, “You know, that’s really not that much money.  For you.”

“That’s what Lila said.”

They pulled behind the bagel store and JJ looked across the parking lot at the skate park.  Less than 24 hours before he watched those skaters and felt chained and empty.  Now he felt…unmoored? Unhinged?  Still empty?  He located the familiar oozing sadness in the center of his chest, an anxiety or fear about what was coming, a dull dread that was always with him.

“Day off tomorrow,” JJ said.  “Me and you, we should go have some fun.”

“Day off tomorrow?  Why do you even still work here?  Why are you here tonight?”

“It seemed the best thing.  You know, carry on.  See what develops.  Besides, what would you do without me?”

They sat in the car looking at the kids in the skate park.  In the dusk the skaters were rolling silhouettes of dangling arms and bent knees, of sudden lunges and launchings, and all types of landings from the flailing to the flawless.  “One day soon, I will come to you for a favor,” Carl said.

“Are you supposed to be the Godfather or something?”

“No,” Carl said.  “Just a baker with an ingrate girlfriend.  Let’s go to work.”  And they went inside to fire the oven, fill the kettle, and bake 194 dozen bagels.