The Harland Highway - PREMIUM CONTENT - Final segment of Garden Hose time machine story

Episode Date: October 20, 2016

PREMIUM CONTENT - It's the final segment of Garden Hose time machine story. Premium Members hear it first. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

As the door swung wider, Brett instantly saw that there was no one else in the room, just the frail shape of a human body tucked under crisp white hospital issue sheets. Brett's father's brown hair seemed to be the only thing. that contrasted on the white bed. His half-paralyzed head lay up on the pillow. As Brett stepped closer, his father seemed almost unrecognizable. His frail body rigid and weak. Brett took a deep swallow, his mind unprepared for seeing his once flamboyant father so deteriorated.

For a brief second, he almost forgot about all the hatred he had built up for him. For a brief second, he wanted to help him. comfort him make him better again but as he rounded the bed and got his first look at his father's face all those sentimental feelings stopped they were replaced by feelings of utter shock possibly horror brett had known his father had suffered a stroke that night his sister had told him that as brett had run from the house their father laid helpless seizing on the floor maybe that is where the feelings of animosity from his sister had been born. Brett had just turned and walked away in his father's time of need.

And now, before him, for the first time, Brett could see firsthand the effects of the stroke. Brett's father's face seemed sunken in and hollow. His cheeks gaunt, his eyes like two empty tunnels that led back through the portals of time. A wave of sadness washed over Brett, the likes of which he had never before felt. his father like a wounded animal unable to pick itself up off the ground and take another step to survive out of defiance brett held back any tears he would not give his father the satisfaction of expressing any emotion his father didn't deserve it

norm on the other hand was the exact opposite almost the instant he saw his son his eyes began to water his body trembling this was a monumental moment for norm he had spent many many years nursing his broken heart broken from knowing he had destroyed his family broken from knowing he would never see his boy again but now miraculously he was here norm mustering all his strength reached out to brett his nimble fingers touching his hand brett instantly pulled away offended that his father thought he had any right to make contact with him. This was enough to bring the tears out of Norm's eyes. He knew he had done so much damage. He knew he had lost his son. Please, please, Bretty, he said in a gravely voice that was unfamiliar to Brett, I need to touch you, son. Norm's speech was uneven and slow. The stroke had slightly

paralyzed the right side of his face, impeding his speech. The clarity his voice, his voice once had, now slurred. Touch me? Brett snapped. No, I don't think so. Brett snapped his hand away with the reflexes of a hockey goalie. He had no desire to connect with his father in this way. As if Norm's face could register any more pain, it just did. His son's disdain was palatable.

Norm squeezed his eyes shut and rocked his head, side to side. His voice mumbling through his tears. Oh, Breddy, what did I do, Breddy? What did I do? Brett stood back, staring at his crumpled father, almost with disgust. He could hardly believe that his father, the one who beat his mother to a pulp, was laying there, feeling sorry for himself. Almost out of agitation, Brett spoke up. How did you know I was in the hallway?

Norm's eyes rolled open, a slight look of hope as he embraced the notion that his son was actually talking to him oh i could feel you brettie i could always feel you my son brett stared down at norm incredulously not expecting such warm emotion to come out of him i prayed i prayed for many years you would come my boy many years brett took another step away from the bed despite the uneven speech there was comfort and love in his father's voice. Brett wasn't sure how to take it. It had been so long since he had felt his father's feelings. I know I did some bad things, Brettie. I know why you went away, angry and mad.

I know. Suddenly, Brett felt anger overtake anything else he was feeling. Oh, really? You did some bad things? You punched the fuck. fucking shit out of my mother. That bad thing? Is that what you're talking about? Norm turned his head away from Brett's outburst. His loud words were like a punch to his own

face. Who the fuck do you think you are? Your own wife. Mom was the sweetest woman to ever walk the fucking earth and, and, and, Brett had to turn away. He couldn't look at his father for a moment. Norm's lips began chattering, opening and closing in rapid succession. his whole being filling up with agony. I don't know why I did it, son. I have no answer. I only hit her twice. Only!

Brett snapped as he spun around to face his father again. Norm was crying now, his old salty tears creeping down his dehydrated face. If I hit her twice, then it's the same. I hit her ten million times. She didn't deserve it. Brett's anger was mounting. How can you say that?

I mean, that's it? You piece of shit. How could you do it? Brett's hands curled up into fists. He was trying to channel his emotions. He didn't want to yell at his old man, but it was inevitable. Brettie, please, Norm pleaded. Please what?

Brett snapped. You call me to your deathbed, hoping you can wash the slate clean? Huh? Make it all fine again? Fuck you. you, Norm. Fuck you! Norm let out a long, painful moan that synchronized with his tears. I'm sorry, son.

I'm so sorry, Norm wailed. Brett had never heard such torture come out of another human being before. The anguish in his father's voice was so authentic that it moved through Brett like a ghost passing through him. Suddenly, Brett felt sad. He felt lost. his father's pleads were thrusting multiple emotions at brad all at the same time suddenly brett didn't know how to feel why why'd you do it the question rolled out of brad almost involuntarily norm sniffled and swallowed some of the tears that had slid into the paralyzed side of his mouth he stared wild-eyed around the room knowing that he needed to offer his son the right answer offer him the answer that would make him love

him again but after a long pause he let out a defeated sigh I don't know son I have no answer or excuses I'm just a man that they carried the weight of his world on his shoulders just tried to step through life the best way I could and then something came out of me that I didn't even know I had inside, the ability to hurt, to punish the one I swore to protect. I let the world, I let my life take me to a dark place, a place I didn't see coming. Brett stood there silently and listened. He realized he probably needed to hear this just as much as his father needed to say it. The things that happened to you in life. You don't see them coming, Breddy. You think you're prepared for everything. You think you can plan it all out. And then all of a sudden, one night, a part of you appears

that you never planned for. Something inside of you shows up that you didn't even know you had. Norm sobbed openly and loudly. Brett didn't try to stop him. after a moment of heavy tears norm continued the nights i hit your mother's son i broke her i broke her beautiful spirit she never got it back brett looked up and saw the emptiness in his father's eyes they revealed so much as if he had opened up a chest overflowing with pain hurt and suffering brett knew his father had paid for what he had done he knew his father's pain was deep and real i broke your mother son but me i died norm sealed his eyes tightly and turned his head away from brett his own cloud of shame surrounded him like a plague brett stood there numb unsure of even moving for what seemed in eternity the two father and son silently shared the same intimate yet uncomfortable space brett was processing everything that was spinning in his head he continued to maintain his distance from his ailing father why am i here brett said softly at last norm slowly turned his head back to brett he stared at him absorbed him as much as he could norm knew his time was limited

he garnered all his strength and slowly lifted his arm up in the air he reached towards his one and only son brett looked up moved by his father's efforts clearly it was not physically easy Norm slightly wiggled his fingers, no words coming from his mouth, just a low, pitiful gurgle from somewhere in his windpipe. Brett stared with contempt. He had so much hatred built up inside. He wanted to not feel any sympathy or remorse for his bastard father. But Norm's long, bony fingers grasping for him, like a drowning person, reaching for a lifeline. Brett felt his coat of armor crack. He felt the dull pain growing in his heart. His father's eyes, full of pleading and pain.

He needed to be touched. He needed his son. Slowly the pain became too much for Brett. Memories of the good times with his father began populating his mind. For the briefest of moments, he could see past the monster that lay before him. He somehow saw past the imprinted version of Norm's fist, crushing his mother's cheek. Brett saw a man who had suffered for his deeds, who, as he had stated, died inside for his actions. Norm's outstretched arms seemed to have a magnetic pull all its own.

Brett was slowly drawn toward it. With each closing inch, Brett able to see a sparkle of hope in his father's eyes. A ray of light that had been dimmed down to blackness for so very, very long. As Brett's thigh pressed against the side of the bad, Norm's hand snatched Brett's forearm. His firm grip surprised Brett. It was strong and forceful. A grip determined to never let go. Norm's crooked, distorted face managed to create some kind of joyous smile. He could feel his son's youthful skin, feel his energy, his life force. Brett didn't know what to do. He found his eyes drifting towards his fathers until at last they connected. Their stare was instant and intense.

It had all the strength of the planets being held in their place by the universe's gravity. They were locked in, neither of them able to shift their gaze. Brett was overcome with anger, fear, love, and hate all at the same time. Norm recognized this. His eyes stared back at his wounded child. They conveyed never-ending love and understanding, void of judgment or spite. Norm's stare bore into Brett's soul like a searchlight through the midnight sky. It honed in on his heart. With all his mental energy, Norm gave up every last molecule of love that his heart could manufacture. He channeled it to his son so that he could know. Despite all his misgivings, his love was pure and without boundary. Brett could feel Norm's love, penetrating his soul, causing his

insides to light up with golden warmth that could only come from a parent to a child. Brett's eyes began to fill with soft, salty tears, his hands slowly rising up to where his father was grasping his arm. Soon enough, their hands were together, holding, feeling, grasping on to whatever chance they had left to show affection for one another. I love you, my son, my, my little brettie. Norm choked as the words spilled out of him. Brett could feel the pools of water, and his lower eyelids finally spill over and form tears.

They dropped from his eyes like capsules of liquid pain, each teardrop representing a moment of the torment he had bottled up inside, all these years. The tears dropped on the sheets, leaving a wet spot that grew wider and wider. He squeezed his father's hand tightly. I can't forgive you, Dad. Brett said almost in a whisper. Norm squeezed Brett's hand. I know, son. You're not here so that you can see me dying. Brett looked up, somewhat surprised by this unselfish reverend. revelation. You're here so that I can see that you can go on living. Brett stopped breathing for a moment. He hadn't expected such words. Somehow he thought he was brought here, expected to give

his father forgiveness. But it was the exact opposite. He realized in that moment that he was brought here so that he could be free, to let go of all the pain, to get back to living and blessing as wife and children with every ounce of his love. Brett tried to absorb all that was happening in this miraculous moment, but it was like trying to catch a hundred balloons that had broken loose and were dancing across the sky. And before he could make any semblance of what he was feeling, he suddenly felt his father's grip on his hand squeezed tighter than it had so far.

It actually hurt slightly. Brett looked down at his father and saw a certain resolution in his eyes. a contentment that wasn't there before. He blinked slowly three or four times, and in a wisp of a voice, he said, I love you, my boy. I'll love you for all time, Brady. And then his grip went limp.

All the strength was gone. Norm was dead. Red felt his heart curl up inside. The pain was only outdone. and by the strange joy he felt in his heart at the same time. At last, it was over. It was done. He had come face to face with his dad.

When Sherry awoke in the chair, she instantly looked over to see if Brett was okay. To her satisfaction, she saw that he was sleeping peacefully in his bed. This made her happy, happier than the stiffness that was riddling her body. her contortions in the chair in which she slept were nothing short of torturous she had no idea how long she had been sleeping as she brought her hand up to wipe the sleep from her eyes she was startled to feel something gripped in her fingers she came just short of rubbing a foreign object right in her face as she held it up before her eyes a flood of love and joy washed over her entire being it was a single white rose pure and fragrant and beyond beautiful. Twelve months later, the following summer,

Brett sat on his back porch with Sherry, Tommy, and a few other friends. Brett sat close by Sherry's side, holding her hand, loving her. Tommy was relaxed and laughing. Clearly any animosity from the hose incident had faded away. Reconnected, their friendship blossomed and they become close once again. So, we ever going to go on that baseball tour through the American League East stadiums, or what? Tommy said loudly so that it passed by Sherry as well. Brett glanced at Sherry and said in a mock pouty voice,

I don't know if I can bear to be away from Sherry that long, Tommy. Oh, Jesus, pour some more syrup on it, why don't you? Tommy rolled his eyes and everyone laughed. Come on, let's go in and eat. We can talk about it over day. dinner. Sherry smiled and played along. And a few bottles of white wine? Right, Cher? Tommy joked. Everyone laughed and rose from their deck chairs. As they all headed inside through the sliding glass door, Brett noticed the side gate hanging open at the far end of the backyard. Be right in! Brett assured the

group as he moved in the other direction, leaving the deck. He stepped down onto the lawn and walked to the gate. Like he'd done a million times before, he pulled it shut and secured it. On his walk back towards the house, something caught his eye, something that he had almost purposefully not thought about for a long time. It was the garden hose, hanging on the wall by the shrubs. Brett stopped. He stared at it. He wondered if it was mystically beckoning him, or if his own mind was just curious after all this time. Seeing that the coast was clear, he decided to walk over to the tap and turn it on. Brett stared at the water pouring out at the tip.

He felt a little nervous, intimidated to take a drink. A lot had happened since last year. He was 30 pounds lighter. He was friends with Tommy again. He and Sherry were like high school sweethearts again. It was like the love that was always there was finally allowed to come out from behind the clouds and shine. Brett's job was good. He wasn't drinking anymore. He went to the gym three times a week. In essence, he was finally happy. Maybe he better just leave well enough alone. Going back to the hose could be a huge

mistake. Open the door to things maybe he didn't want to see. But the sheer nature of the incredible journey, a journey that gave him closure and helped him rekindle his love, his life. Somehow, he just had to see if there was more. Maybe it was greedy, maybe even dangerous, but he couldn't help himself. Slowly, he pulled the hose to his mouth, the cool water sliding down his throat as he drank. He waited and wondered what sort of manifestation would take place.

After a few moments, when nothing seemed to be happening, just when Brett was about to give up, a football, just like the one he played, with as a kid, rolled to a stop at his feet. He stared down at it as water splashed across the tightly pulled pink skin. You want to play catch? A voice came from across the lawn. Brett dropped the hose and picked up the ball. It felt good in his fingers. He stood and looked at the other side of the grass. A figure stood there, silhouetted against the sun. Brett squinted. He couldn't see who it was. Who? Who's this?

There, he called out, almost frightened. After a brief silence, a familiar voice answered back. Come on, Dad, quit messing around. Throw the ball, will you? Brett smiled as he heard his son's voice. Nathan was a foot taller than last year and well on his way to becoming a man. Just a few tosses, son. Your mother wants us in for dinner.

Okay, Dad, Nathan acquiesced. Brett smiled and cocked his arm back. Sherry watched from the kitchen window. and blew him a kiss. Brett fired the ball high into the sky. It arced up towards the radiant sun and hung in the air for a moment before landing perfectly in his son's arms.

Perfect toss, Dad! Brett smiled. He was happy. The end. Thank you.