THE HOUSE CALL
The air had a strange must to it as the dark, old four door sedan hurled threw it. The old worn tires kicked up dust from the road as the headlights cut thru the remnants of light. The backdrop was complete as the sun cast down over the hills and peaks of light flickered through the trees. It must have been fall in the old town as the leaves were turning red rose, orange, and yellow. This is not a scene foreign to others, but when it happens, people take notice. The old man driving the sedan, hand out of the window to flick his Marlboro, other hand on the wheel, look ahead with a fixed glare. Moments later he had arrived. The old black lab, tail wagging, gave a gentle nuzzle to the old man’s leg as he opened the car door. The old dirt road that led to the farmhouse went on for miles. Not a person in site since he past the old post-office back at the next town. The old man, after clasping his hand on the dog’s head to say hello, stood up and looked out over the property he was desperately called to. “Hmm, people like living like this? I cannot understand this shit.” He opened the back door of the sedan, grabbed his old leather bag, and made his way to the farmhouse.
Old Lady Meemah, this is what everyone called her, ran a tight household. If you were not of blood, it did not matter. If you acted decent, helped with the chores and daily tasks, you were part of the family. She learned this from her momma and grand momma and by God she was goanna run her household the same way. The oldest child, Selma was ready to turn seventeen. The twins, Ronald, and Deliah turned sixteen a few months past. It was a big celebration, one that will be talked about for years in Old Turnback. After the twins Old Lady Meemah had 6 or 7 toddlers, not hers, running wild thru the house. Her three grown children, living in different houses on the property, left them so they could live their lives and do other things the younger adults do these days.
“Please come in, he is right in the next room. I sure do hope you can fix the boy up.” Old Lady Meemah sputtered. Her face old, wrinkly, and sagging. You can see the piled-up years have taken tole on the lady. “I don’t know why, but suddenly, the boy grabbed his belly and screamed in pain. It’s a pain like get this out of me. Whatever it is.” The old lady announced, talking continuously as the old man look up at the ceiling of the house. “I wonder who the hell is goanna fix that?” he thought, looking at the bare rafters, flecks of sunlight showing thru onto the farm-house floor. The old man, gripping his leather bag, slowly followed Old Lady Meemah into the next room.
It is fair to state that people do the best they can with what they have. At least that is what your born to believe. The old man could not help to wonder why people chose to avoid the simple solutions the new world had to offer. “doesn’t matter, I’m here now.” the old man muttered in his raspy voice from the pack of Marlboros he smoked in the past few hours. “If this doesn’t work, I need to send him up with the others. You know this.” said the old man, looking at the boy laying on the old wooden floor. The room was dark, a candle flickering on an old wooden table next to the boy. Every now and then a whimper was heard coming from the silhouette lying on the floor. The floor creaked and dust fell as the old man's heavy boots made the way to the middle of the room. He kneeled and whispered to the boy. The boy groaned and made a pathetic effort to talk. All the old man heard was “I don’t.”
Old Lady Meemah, busy attending to the toddlers running around the house, continued to talk in her loud slang voice. “I know you are judging me Doctor, but I have my reasons.” Since the early 2040’s, most people stopped living this way. “I chose to live how my momma and her momma lived. Ain’t no crime in that.” She cried out, her voice trembling a bit. “Just tell me what you can do and then you can be gone, and no one needs to hear of this.” The old man opened the leather bag and removed an object. Selma, curious as to what this object was, reached over to touch t. “Are you crazy girl, go stand over there.” the old man stated pointing to the opposite corner of the room. As he placed the object on the boy's stomach, the room began to glow. Not from the candle, not from the moonlight as the sun had fully set, but from the object. The toddlers, busy running around in the next room suddenly stopped. Time seemed to stand still as the old man, now holding the object with both hands, chanted strange words at the boy. This went on for what felt like hours, but within 3 or 4 minutes, the light left the room and the old man stopped chanting. “I think that did the trick.” the old man yelled out to Old Lady Meemah.
The dusk kicked up as the old man sped down the dirt road of the farmhouse. “I still don’t understand why people live this way.” he muttered, lighting up a Marlboro. The old sedan slowly began to float above the road and lifted into the night sky. “I get it’, he stated, “even I still enjoy the old ways. Ain’t that rite Pearl?” the old mas said to the sedan as he smacked his hand on the steering wheel.
