In the Moment presents a gritty series of short stories focusing on characters who are raw, honest, unredeemable, marginal, spiritual, and beautiful. Chronicling scenes from life made vividly authentic, all the players are genuine-people we might be or know, snapshots of everyday life. Chance a moment with a stranger, and experience unexpected events. Struggle along with a family whose child will never be any better than at that moment; stay with a rape victim through the horrific aftermath of her trauma. Run for safety in a war zone, and smell the Devil's missile. Get tipsy and dance with grannies, or pine for an ex. Grieve for a life wasted behind prison bars. Does an event define a life, or does the individual define the event? Is it a combination of both, or is it something else entirely? For the short stories of In the Moment, the moment is now-good or bad. That defining moment in a person's life can say volumes about his or her character. We may never know more than we do now; the next step in life's dance is conjecture, a mystery, an uncertainty-but its part in the story is vital nonetheless.
IN THE MOMENT
Short StoriesBy Sandra M. BringeriUniverse, Inc.
Copyright © 2012 Sandra M. Bringer
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4620-8390-9Contents
Introduction.............................................ixThe Women of the Family..................................1American Blue Eyes.......................................9Back Issue...............................................18A Spinning Top...........................................21Rapture..................................................31Her Ex...................................................33The Wedding..............................................37The Funeral..............................................42Bozo Hair................................................51Anna.....................................................54Johnny...................................................59Forgiven.................................................62The Halloween Bash.......................................70Dave, the Bus Driver.....................................77Maudy....................................................81Tanessa..................................................85Will Sees Rebecca for the First Time.....................87Dave and the Harvey Twins................................91Cowboy and Rebecca.......................................96The Killing..............................................102Rebecca..................................................108Epilogue.................................................113
Chapter One
The Women of the Family
Big Bull is as large as his name implies, and all of him is sitting uncomfortably on his heels, his arms tightly at his side. He is trying to hold his body in, while Stinker is furiously swaying side to side, side to side. Bull must maintain his awkward position. Quietly and carefully, he waits, trying not to let his belly touch Stinker. Slowly and softly like a rising balloon, Bull lifts himself upright on his knees and raises his heavy, muscular arms up to shoulder length, holding stiffly, straight out, turning his Lava-scrubbed hands palm-side up, thus shortening the span of Stinker's sway. In this way, Bull manages to form a safe haven with boundaries for Stinker. The boy can still move, but not as hard and fast as before.
Bull is breathing fast, as if he is moving side to side too. With Stinker at a tolerable pace, Bull stops gulping for air, and his big chest slows and moves with the tempo set by Stinker.
"Rest, boy. Please be still!" Bull repeats over and over. It's as if Stinker has an inner metronome; no one knows what tempo he's in, or who or what sets the boy's tempo. Bull has stopped himself from shaking the boy or holding Stinker down to still him more times than he can count. Stinker is not the child's given name; he is dubbed Stinker because of his toilet accidents. The name just stuck. Bull would stay on his knees the rest of his days if it would fix Stinker.
Bull's half-sister dropped Stinker off about a year ago; she could not care for Stinker. Her son, barely potty trained, unable to speak properly at four, with agitated and swaying fits that lasted hours, was unbearable to her. "What does the boy want?" Pale to semitransparent, small for his age, the boy was failing to thrive; Bull's family had to take Stinker. A telephone call asking how Stinker is doing is all Bull and the women of the family expect from her now.
Stinker is better off at Bull's home. He eats for the most part, or allows others to feed him. He points to things he wants, there are enough people in the house to check for him when he goes missing, and everyone is used to him. But Stinker is backtracking of late. His bouts of swaying have increased. Fluttering his eyes at the ceiling, still moving side to side, the boy has not eaten or drunk since yesterday.
"What sets you off, boy?" Bull says. "You got to eat, little man!" Bull must stand before his legs go dead. He lumbers to his feet and gently pats the air near Stinker's head.
An auto mechanic by trade, with his own shop and a couple of workers, Bull knows his job. He is good at it, and he has had the sense to speak to doctors about Stinker. Recommendations from experts like "institutionalize" sound a lot like "incarcerate" to Bull.
"Words that grown men can hardly spell can't be right for a tiny boy," is Bull's reply to the experts. "You don't put your family out. The boy's not an animal to be cut from the herd!" Bull might not be able to mend Stinker, but he is confident that the women of the family can bring the boy around; they will not let the boy perish.
"Little man, Uncle Bull's got to run. Godmother is scooting across the lawn right now, and the house is going to be jumping with ladies in a minute. You hide yourself, and someone will come fetch you when the party's over. Go slow now. Go slow." He said it with his usual hope. Bull would will Stinker to be at peace if he could.
Godmother, the self-appointed head honcho of the clan, dressed in purple polyester pull-on pants with a matching sequined sweatshirt, is heading toward the house with great determination. She bellyached to the entire family that a combined wedding/baby shower is "Totally out of line! Booties and toasters, I can't believe it!" When no one paid her any mind and went ahead with the double-duty shower for Maxi, Godmother had no choice but to attend the combination shower and put herself in charge of the event.
Meanwhile, in anticipation of Godmother's management, Maxi and Becky, Bull's daughters, and his wife, Martha, are busy readying the refreshments and decorations for the event. Mary, one of Bull's sisters, lives in the large old farm home as well, and since she and several friends of Maxi are the official shower givers, the family home is simply the most convenient location, with the most space.
Barbara, a favorite niece of Bull, has three children and is to be the maid of honor. She is a real "work" according to Godmother, flashy and not one to take any lip. Barbara expects confrontations with Godmother, though admittedly, she admires the "old bat."
Ally, Martha's daughter from her first marriage, and her two children are also part of the wedding party. She is comfortable with Stepdad Bull, and she loves Maxi and little Becky. She is happy to be included in Bull's extended family of mostly women.
It takes an atlas to differentiate between and count the women in Bull's family, and they are often a part of town talk. Begrudgingly, the talkers give them their due, however. They take care of their own, it is agreed. Stinker is proof positive of the family fidelity. Cleverly, the talkers are most often included in family events and parties. It helps to moderate the gossip.
Girlfriends from high school are milling about the kitchen with Max. Another woman, a distant cousin, appears out of nowhere and helps to open chip bags and put dip in little glass dishes. Ally and her brood are crepe-paper twisting. The balloon-blowing task is delegated to whoever passes by with wind in them. Bull appreciates and knows by name each woman invited, a lone rooster in a full hen house. Courtly in his way, Bull never struts or crows his position.
Godmother, put out by the fact that so many hands are on board with the preparations, marches into the kitchen. She orders this woman and that, dictating the best way to arrange the sandwiches on the trays, the proper way to decorate the Jell-O molds, and when to play the party games. She gives opinions to all within earshot. "The orange sherbet for the punch must be added when the last guest arrives," she warns. It is a marvel that each woman continues doing exactly what she is doing, yet obeys each of Godmother's orders to the letter.
"Where's our Stinker?" Godmother looks around suddenly. "Did he eat this morning?" she demands to know.
"I'll check on Stinker. I saw him with Bull," Mary whispers to Martha.
"I tried to force milk on him about an hour ago," Martha says quietly. "Our girls are so noisy and strong willed, and God bless us, no one can say we don't eat!" She laughs while patting her midriff. "I just don't know how to help the boy sometimes."
More guests begin calling hellos at the back and front doors all at once. Older women are dressed in Sunday best, and Maxi's peers are in jeans and tees with junk bangles or short sundresses. Godmother runs to direct traffic.
Gifts fill the table near the decorated chair Maxi is to sit in, and the living room and front porch area fills with laughter and chatter. Windows are open, and the curtains move with the commotion. Whiffs of different lotions, colognes, and sprays roll off the women as they move this, pick up that, and admire the crepe-paper streamers and white balloons taped on the mantelpiece. Maxi, kissed and kissed, smiles at the attention received from everyone.
Godmother, in her militant fashion, begins filling punch cups, elders served first, gulping her cup. She supervises the children's plates and piles a big plate for Maxi. Bull comes in, waves a quick hi, grabs some food for the men who remain on the stoop with him, and runs out. Godmother, a wonder, continues running the show and giving orders while spinning trays in front of the guests.
A happy crew of young women escort Maxi to her seat of honor. With the current tattoos of fashion on her ankles and one arm, and her many ear piercings, Maxi looks splendid to her peers. The mask of pregnancy and the darkening around her eyes gives her an exotic, almost regal look.
Godmother interprets her beauty as possible nausea and immediately worries aloud that "Maxi might be one of those crazy women who don't eat for fear of being too fat!" She further speaks these and other assumptions to Maxi's mother. Now Martha can worry with her.
Maxi notices mother's and Godmother's focus on her belly. She tries to will herself to feel less queasy, but she cannot look at the huge plate of food Godmother put next to her. "She's a mind reader, Godmother, that's what she is!" she mutters under her breath.
"Some law and order, please!" Godmother shouts, quieting and forcing any women roaming free to sit. "The designing-of-a-wedding-dress-by-using-toilet-paper game will commence," Godmother announces. Gleeful teams form with all manner of bustle and laughter. Godmother, of course, refuses to participate in such foolishness. Barbara surrounds her with several like-minded women, and they in a flash wrap her up like a mummy. Her bite never matches her bark, and she submits as the din escalates.
Predictably, the flower girls, including Becky, plus Great-Grandmamma on the groom's side, with her highly toilet-paper-decorated walker, win the prizes. Aunt Mary de-mummifies Godmother and brushes her cheek with a kiss as Barbara hands out the prizes.
Free of the toilet-paper wrappings, without missing a beat, Godmother springs forward and announces the guessing-of-how-many-colored-coated-wedding-almonds-in-the-jar game, with a baby-name game to follow, plus a contest about the favorite groom's likes and dislikes. "The woman's a hoot 'n' a half," someone says.
With the games finished, "It is time to open gifts!" Godmother bellows. "Let the oooing and aaawing begin!" Future thank-you notes require the recording of what is in each package and from whom, which Godmother starts, but Mary finishes the chore. Barbara and Godmother are too occupied with loud and prolonged ooos and aaaws to continue.
With the gifts opened, in order to prevent Godmother from proposing something else to do, music is switched on, and the younger women and Maxi dance to the blare. Remaining sandwiches pass around, and Maxi and all are called to eat the "all-purpose-shower cake" by Martha. Infants are getting cranky, toddlers are restless and need help with their cake, and little Becky tells Maxi she is taking cake to Stinker. Godmother gives the nine-year-old a generous pat on the head.
Three hours of partying flies, women and children mill and stream to and from the living room to the backyard, and other places in the house, men and cars are arriving. It is time to go, and on cue almost, the women, in a whirl of activity, begin packing up, gathering children, kissing good-bye, and heading out the door.
Godmother and Barbara run after the leaving guests, making sure each has a party favor, and they remain together at the door until the last guest departs, though each gives the other a wary look.
"That was work!" Godmother exclaims as she melts into a comfortable chair, with a pat on her hand from Martha. Mary, the only woman in the family Godmother never gives orders or raises her voice to, stops folding chairs and rushes to retrieve Stinker. The party roar has softened and waned; he will be able to sit among them. The few party stragglers left are close family. Actual periods of quiet hang in the house, and as Maxi inspects her gifts and makes comments, they all nod in perfect agreement. The mechanics of straightening up are restful.
Stinker is behind the pantry door, and Mary sees that none of his food has been touched. He is moving slowly side to side, his rigid, little body showing how tired he is, and Mary works to calm him. Stinker relents, out of pure exhaustion no doubt, and permits Mary to carry and rub what must be stiff legs as she walks to the living area. Light as a feather, the thin-limbed child distresses Mary, who repeats like a comforting chant, "My poor little boy, my little boy."
Mary is the one woman of the family without a child, and the women watch her gently try to bend Stinker's knees so he can sit. Unsuccessful, Mary gives up and leans Stinker against her while she sits. He does not allow touching now, but Mary may stroke the hem of his tee. She is grateful to touch him via his tee.
Satisfied that Stinker, in his way, is among them, the women return to their work while someone absently flicks on the TV remote. A horrid news story blasts about a mother who binds her baby with duct tape, kills her, and leaves her little body in the woods. The women stop in their tracts and collectively gasp at the dreadfulness of the crime. The air movement in the room stops in disbelief. How could a woman not want her baby?
Maxi, still with her gifts, protectively puts her arms across her belly. Her knees buckle, and her mask fades. Her mother and Godmother rush to her. Mary, visibly shaken and bracing Stinker, tries to push a chair over with one hand. Barbara and others help Maxi to a chair, Godmother lowers her head, Barbara rubs her back, and Ally pats her hand while Martha fans. The children hush, Aunt Mary and Stinker seem to slide nearer to Maxi, and Godmother orders the TV off.
"Shocking a mother-to-be!" she reprimands everyone.
The women surround Maxi, give words of encouragement, tell her the best times to eat to avoid nausea, assure her she will be a good mother, and give her vitamin advice. Hot tea with honey and some lightly buttered toast appear, as ordered by Godmother.
Little sister Becky stands silently watching big sister, with her furry pink handbag and Bratz dolly in hand. Becky is as intense as any woman in the room, absorbing, as if in a training session, on call if needed. She watches Stinker leaning on Aunt Mary's back as she feeds bits of toast to Maxi, and Barbara blows on each spoon of honey tea that Maxi must finish according to Mother and Godmother. She practices the same motions with her dolly. Maxi's beautiful mask of pregnancy returns, and a sigh of relief erupts from all.
Stinker stops leaning and becomes agitated again, moving side to side. Mary's caressing of his tee no longer stills him. Attentive eyes move from Maxi to Stinker. The women huddle around Maxi and the unborn baby. Does Stinker sense something? His frail collarbone and ribs show through his tee, his eyes are fluttering, the child's breath is waning, and the women are afraid and hold their breaths with him.
God, protect your little one, Mary's eyes begs to heaven, beyond the ceiling, and Godmother shouts aloud for the angels to surround this sweet lamb with no voice. The women move closer to Stinker. Ally holds Maxi's hand tightly for fear she may suffer another fright. Martha does not leave her daughter's side.
Mary softly speaks to Stinker, repeatedly. "Stay with us, stay with us." The silence of the women is like a prayer. His spirit returns, and he stirs but is too weak to stand. He sits between Mary's legs on the floor.
Becky, without prompting, goes and gets a big glass, fills it with vanilla ice cream, and pours orange soda pop in. She leaves her bag and dolly behind on the table. Repeatedly, she tries to spoon-feed Stinker. Godmother stands by as if her presence will force Stinker to hang on.
Newspapers are brought in and put under Stinker in case he messes himself. In her child voice, Becky repeats, "Stinker, stay with us. Stinker, we love you. Stay."
Stay, the women whisper in their hearts.
After many patient attempts, Stinker finally swallows, and the women of the family keep their vigil.
The telephone rings, but no one moves.
"Maybe it's his mama," Mary says gently.
Bull, standing in the shadows for some time, in awe of the bond and love the women of the family freely share, quietly moves to answer the phone, as Godmother with a nod, bids him to do, and Stinker stills.
Chapter Two
American Blue Eyes * * *
(Iran/Iraq War-A Day In '88)
Propelling my unbalanced pregnant self nearer to the door, in instinctual mode, waddling faster, I retrieve Fatimeh's and my black street chadors, and grab flip-flops and my bag, which is packed with everyone's national ID cards, ration coupons, other documents, a few meds, and an eyeliner pencil, my last token of vanity. Edging closer to the exit, tense calf muscles sense the siren before it warns terror is approaching. War does that. It hones long lost survival skills. Your legs know "fight or flight" the same as animals know to move before the first shake of an earthquake. Other women have mentioned that they, too, move before the air raid siren blares.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from IN THE MOMENTby Sandra M. Bringer Copyright © 2012 by Sandra M. Bringer. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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