dontravis.com
blog post #339
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| Courtesy of publicdomainpictures.com |
Now
all will be revealed. Vince has been saved, and with Skye at his side,
desolation becomes splendid desolation. But the story’s not over yet. Read on.
*****
SPLENDID ISOLATION
I woke the next morning with Skye sitting
beside me, watching me with his marvelous turquoise eyes, an enigmatic smile on
his lips.
“Now it’s time for you to go find my
twin.”
“Twin? Karl’s your twin?”
“Yes, we’re identical. He’s a good guy. He’ll
help you.” The boy hesitated a moment. “I wish we had more time, but it will be
hot soon. You have to be on your way. But first, I want to thank you. It was a
magical night.”
“I should be thanking you, my young
friend. But why should it end so soon. Come with me.”
That sweet, wistful smile appeared again. “I
can’t. Please don’t ask. But perhaps I’ll see you there.”
An hour later, my head covered by a floppy
cloth hat Skye provided, his canteen on my hip, and a distant butte as a
marker, I paused for a final look back at the hill. Skye Hardesty, a lonely
figure in the distance, raised a hand in farewell and turned to disappear over
the crest. There was no sign of the tarpaulin that had sheltered us for the
past two days. The kid had stowed it away for use another day.
It was late afternoon before I stumbled
across a two-lane strip of blacktop. I took a half dozen more steps before
realizing this was the highway. But where was the filling station? I checked my
landmark, discovering I’d veered off course. Turning my weary steps north, I almost
staggered past an old building set off from the road. Laughing inanely, I stumbled
through the door of an old-fashioned trading post, delighted beyond all reason
at the sight of another human being.
The man standing at the counter rushed to
help as he realized my condition, easing me into a chair beside an old
pot-bellied stove. A big glass of cold water appeared in his hand; I swigged it
greedily.
“Not too much,” the man cautioned, echoing
Skye’s first words to me. “Go easy now.”
It took a few minutes to collect myself
and adjust to the gloom of the building’s interior. Eventually, I looked up
into a pair of concerned green eyes and a familiar countenance, although this
man was in his fifties.
“Mr. Hardesty?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Hardesty, my name’s Vince Lozander. I
met your son. He helped me or I wouldn’t have made it.”
“Mr. Lozander,” the man replied, “my son’s
a stockbroker in New York City, more’s the pity.”
Confused, I glanced around the store. “Is
Karl here? Karl Hardesty?”
The room went quiet for a moment before
understanding broke across the man’s pleasant features.
“I’m Karl Hardesty, Mr. Lozander. It was
Skye, wasn’t it? Skye found you out there.”
A chill took possession of me. I shivered
as a wave of goose bumps played down my back. “I-I don’t understand. Skye said
you were….”
“His twin,” the man completed. “I am. Skye
Hardesty disappeared out on that desert thirty-odd years ago. I don’t
understand it either, but every once in a while, he sends me somebody from out
of that desolation. Can’t really explain it, Vince. Can I call you Vince? Lots
of people get lost out there every year, and he helps a few…special ones it
seems like.”
He lifted the canteen strap from my shoulder
and shook it. “Empty. But you brought it back. All of them do. It’s Skye’s,
see?” He pointed out the name etched in the metal cap. “I always take it back out
there and throw it on a hill somewhere so he can use it again.”
“But that’s crazy! The man I saw couldn’t
be more than eighteen or twenty.”
“Nineteen, to be exact. Or he was
thirty-two years ago when he died out there.”
“Died!” The hair on my neck rose; my skin
crawled. “That’s impossible! I talked to him… uh, touched him. He was as real
as you are.”
“Like I said, can’t explain it. But I know
what I know. My brother was a troubled young man. He went out there to die on
purpose, I think. He loved the desert, spent all his free time on it. Called it
splendid desolation. It’s where he wanted to be.”
“He does love it,” I mumbled,
accepting the unthinkable. “Will you tell me about him? It’s important to me.”
He eyed me speculatively. “Yes, I guess it
would be. Vince, spend the night, and after supper I’ll tell you about Skye
Hardesty, and how his brother let him down when it counted.”
###
Karl and Skye Hardesty were as close as
identical twins could be, but one grew up straight and the other bent, or so
the locals figured. One was a man; the other turned into a faggot. The whole
county shook its collective head. How could it happen? They had identical genes,
shared the same womb, experienced the same life events, but Karl fell in love
with a local girl while Skye fell head over heels for another teenager, a boy.
“The whole place was scandalized,” Karl
said wearily from the old overstuffed chair before the potbelly. “Me along with
the rest, I guess. Oh, I’d known he was different for a long time. But I
figured he’d grow out of it. Should have known better. He was as hardheaded as
I am. Practically the same head...except for that. When they labeled him a
queer, I stopped defending him, I’m ashamed to say. Our old man was offended
right down to his Evangelical roots and did everything but throw Skye out on
his ass. Mama wouldn’t let dad do that, but that’s the only thing she did for Skye.
“So we all let him down. But Skye was one
strong kid. He took it all, the abuse, the scorn. But when the boy he loved
turned on him that was more than he could take. The kid, Nelson was his name, got
caught in his perversion and tried to blame it on Skye. Called him every name
you can think of in front of the whole community at a dance one night and told my
brother to keep his pansy hands off him. That was after the two had fooled
around for a year or better.
“Skye never said a word, just turned
around and left. I should have followed him, but I was having too much fun. And
if the truth be known, I didn’t want to be painted with the same brush, so I
decided to put a little distance between us.
“When we got home that night, he was gone.
Only things he took with him were his old jalopy and his desert gear, so I knew
right away where he was. Wasn’t until I found his ring that I knew why he was out there. We had identical turquoise
rings we got on a trip to Albuquerque one year. It was the most precious thing
he ever owned. It was our link together, I guess you could say. He’d only leave
it behind if he didn’t need it any more. I knew he was dead before I spent a
week looking for him. Found his car. That was all.”
“Maybe he never died. Maybe he went
somewhere.”
Karl dug out his wallet and handed me a
faded picture. “That’s him on the left. Me on the right. Is that him?”
“Y-yes.” The skin puckered on my arms and
back. My scalp prickled. “That’s him.”
“Then how come he didn’t get old like I
did?” Karl asked the unanswerable.
But I wasn’t listening. There was another
presence in the room. Something powerful but insubstantial. The sudden fear and
apprehension fell away. I was free and happy and special. I looked at Karl Hardesty and answered the man’s last
question.
“Because you still need your flesh and
bone. He doesn’t.” I peered into the deep shadows in the cavernous room. But
the air had cleared; Karl and I were alone in the room now.
“He’s gone,” Karl mused. “He comes
sometimes when he’s sent somebody extra special. You must be very, very special,
Vince. And I thank you for it. I sorta enjoy his visits from time to time. I
like to think it means he’s forgiven me.”
“He
has, Karl. Believe me, he has.”
*****
Can
you summon a willing suspension of belief sufficient to accept the ending? I
can. I hope you can, too. I hope you enjoyed your look at a Splendid
Desolation.
Now
my mantra: Keep on reading and keep on
writing. You have something to say, so say it!
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personal links: (Note the change in the Email address)
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See
you next week.
Don
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