Mary McDonald - No good deed

Dairy farms, dotted with cows huddled in the corner of the pastures, grass worn down to bare patches from last summer’s grazing, alternated with the jarring rawness of new housing developments. It was as if a stray wind had dumped the seeds for subdivisions, leaving them to sprout up randomly across the landscape.

Mark yawned. His childhood had been spent in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere too, but at least there had been a whole village with a town hall, a main street and even a movie theater. Summers had flown by, the memories melding together into a warm golden haze of playing baseball on an empty lot, and then heading to the Dairy Maid to get ice cream afterwards. As soon as dinner was over, they all met up again for one more game of ball before it was too dark to see. Then they would catch lightening bugs or play kick the can. Mark smiled. Sometimes they’d put the poor bugs in the can before playing, and when it was kicked, the bugs had shot out like a shower of living sparks. It had been a great place to grow up.

When was the last time he had been home? He shifted in the seat, his cheek resting on the ice cold pane of glass. It felt good in the overheated bus. His dad’s sixtieth birthday was the last time he could remember. That was the June before the terrorist attacks. Mark recalled sitting on his parents’ front porch and watching the neighborhood flicker at dusk as the bugs flashed yellow up and down the street. Childish laughter had echoed from the backyard of some house as a new crop of children carried on the summertime traditions.

He should have gone home more often. It wasn’t like his parents didn’t invite him. His mother understood though. She knew that he didn’t like to be away from Chicago. She didn’t know about the dreams or camera, but he had a feeling that she knew there was something important in Chicago. Mark wondered if a previous owner of the camera had been from a city. He had lost count of the number of times he had studied the camera, searching for a clue to its power. Was there a previous owner? The camera was old, so it likely had a series of owners.

Was it just chance that brought it into a person’s hands or did the camera decide who would get it? Where was it now? Had someone else discovered the unusual properties it possessed and did they get the premonitions? The bus hit a pothole and his head bumped against the window. If they got premonitions, would they recognize them as such and know that they could change things? Well, some things anyway. Mark grimaced. Some things weren’t meant to be changed. His stomach tightened and he took a deep breath.

The sailor stirred and stretched, narrowly missing Mark’s head with a clenched fist. He opened his eyes, his mouth rounding in surprise when he saw where his hand was. “Oh, wow. Sorry, man.”

Mark shrugged. “No harm done.” He fished in his pocket for the pack of gum and offered a piece to the sailor.

“Sure. Thanks.” He slid a piece out and popped it into his mouth.

Taking one for himself, Mark put the pack away and wondered what time it was. He noticed the watch on the other guy’s wrist. “Hey, you got the time?”

“It’s about a quarter to four.” The sailor smiled. “I can’t wait to see my girlfriend. She was going to come down for my graduation, but she had finals. She goes to UW-Madison. My parents wanted to come too, but couldn’t get off work.” He made a face and shrugged. “It wasn’t a big deal though. At least I’ll be staying at Great Lakes awhile so I can come up to see them pretty often.”

He chewed the gum and pulled his wallet out, flipping it open to a picture of a smiling young woman with short red hair. She had a delicate nose and a heart-shaped face. He beamed as he showed it to Mark.

“Cute girl. You’re a lucky guy.”

“She didn’t want me to enlist, but after nine-eleven, I just had to, ya know?”

“That’s great of you. I’m sure your parents must be very proud.” Apparently the stick of gum acted as an ice breaker.

“How about you?”

The gum lodged in Mark’s throat for a second. “Ah, no, I didn’t enlist.”

The sailor laughed. “No, that’s not what I meant. I figured you’re too old to enlist. I meant are you going to see someone special?”

Mark didn’t know whether to be offended about the age comment or relieved that the conversation had shifted off nine-eleven. He chuckled and shook his head. “Nope. No girlfriend. I’m going home to see my parents.”

“No girlfriend? Are you married?” His eyes darted to Mark’s left hand. “Guess not. Divorced?” His face scrunched in sympathy, and before Mark could set him straight, he went on, “That’s gotta be rough. I’m sure you’ll find someone else soon.”

Mark began to correct him, but then thought better of it. It didn’t matter. He just nodded. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“Aw, now don’t get all down. You’re decent looking. I’m sure you’ll hook up with someone eventually. I’ve heard some people use those Internet dating sites. You could even use your own picture. Even though you’re kind of old, the chicks might go for you. They like tall guys with dark hair. This one guy in my unit looked a little like you, except, well, you have more hair.” He laughed at his joke, then continued, “He got letters all the time from different girls. One time…”

Mark tuned him out, just nodding and occasionally saying ‘uh-huh.’ Two days ago, he had thought that he would give anything to have another person to speak with, but now that he was out, he found it difficult to make small talk.

It wasn’t the kid’s fault and Mark tried to pay attention, but his mind wandered. His future was shot to hell and he faced an uphill battle to get his life back together. Just trying to figure out where to start left him drained. Then, at odd moments, he would flash back to his cell or an interrogation. It didn’t take much to trigger it. A word, a smell, and sometimes, nothing at all. It just happened. When it did, his muscles tensed up and he would break out in a cold sweat.

Mark rubbed his palms on his thighs and craned his neck to see past the sailor and on out the other window. Along the highway, a sign said that Madison was only fourteen miles away. At least they were close to their destination.

“So, they coming to pick you up from the bus station?”

“Huh?” Mark had completely lost track of the sailor’s monologue.

“Your folks. You said you were going home to see them.”

“Oh, yeah, I am, but no, they’re not expecting me.” Mark crossed his arms and turned towards his window. “I’ll probably catch a local bus in Madison, take it to the edge of town and walk from there.” He could use the time to think. Already, he second guessed his impulse to come home unannounced. His leg bounced. What if they didn’t want him there? Mark shook that off. His mom, at least, would be happy to see him. He was sure of that.

Had his detention been mentioned in the paper? Leaning an elbow on the window ledge, he rested his chin in his palm and hoped his dad hadn’t died of embarrassment. He sighed.

“Hey, man…you okay?” The sailor touched his shoulder and Mark flinched. The sailor reeled back, his hands up as though to ward off an attack. “Whoa! Take it easy.”

Heat crept up Mark’s face, and he shook his head. “Sorry, I’m just a little jumpy.” He wasn’t sure why he felt a need to explain his actions, but he added, “I haven’t seen my parents for over a year, and, well, I’m just a little nervous about seeing them again.”

The sailor nodded, his expression sober. “I understand.” He was quiet for five minutes or so. Mark felt bad for reacting the way he had.

It figured that he would scare off the very first person to talk to him normally in over a year.