The Harland Highway - PREMIUM CONTENT - GARDEN HOSE STORY PART 5

Episode Date: October 13, 2016

The 5th installment of Harland's Garden Hose short story. 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

For the next week, life got back to normal for Brett. His emotion seemed to settle down, and true to his own promise, he never picked up the water hose. There was a new closeness to his kids that he could feel and sense. But the tension in the air with Shelley seemed to go the other way. It felt like they were playing house. being cordial, attentive, but something was missing. There was a level of uneasiness that hung in the air like a rain cloud. The conversations they had started eight days earlier were unfinished, unresolved.

It seemed neither of them knew what to say or perhaps didn't want to say the things that were stirring inside. Brett could feel the heaviness of the unfinished discussions weighing down on him. He knew that Sherry would feel it too. He knew that sometime, sometime soon, the dam was going to burst. On the ninth day, Brett powered through his work. At least that had been going well. Somehow the connection he made with his children had invigorated him somewhat, made him more enthusiastic about, well, life.

It was about 3 p.m. on Friday afternoon, about an hour before Brett was going to call it quits, when a Facebook message alert popped up on his computer screen. It was Tommy. Almost ten days later, and he finally messaged Brett back. Hey, it's Friday. Want to grab a drink, old friend? Brett stared at the message for a good two minutes.

He glanced over at the picture of Sherry and the kid that was propped on the corner of his desk. He knew things were delicate at home, that going out for a drink with his childhood best friend probably wasn't the best idea. Yeah, I'm in, Tommy. How about the whiskey room down on 3rd Street? Brett felt guilty the second he hit the send button. But something deep inside told them that he had to meet Tommy. After all these years, it was long overdue. Tommy messaged back almost immediately. Done. See you there at 7, buddy. And just like that, it was set. Brett would meet with Tommy, someone he hadn't seen or talked to in over 20 years. When Brett walked in the door of the whiskey room, he instantly felt comforted by the dim lighting, the whisper of a sonatra song playing in the background and the smell of age spirits wafting through the air. There was a slight murmur coming from the regular Friday night crowd, nothing too boisterous or loud, mostly downtown office people, just like him.

Brett scanned the room and saw Tommy over in a small booth near the back. He waved and Tommy ushered him over as he stood up out of the worn leather seat. Brett could hardly believe it as he walked across the room. Tommy's features getting more vivid the closer he got. Soon, he was right there, standing in front of him, shaking his hand, hugging him. Brett filled up with a sentimental joy. He could see Tommy was experiencing it too. They broke apart and looked at each other and Tommy was the first to speak.

Okay, good. I thought it was going to be the only one who had an extra 30 pounds. Brett looked down at his torso and forced a laugh, realizing Tommy was right. They were both a little bit overweight. Ha, you little shit. Look at you, Tommy. How are you, man? Tommy gestured to the booth, and they both sat down. A half-finished martini already on the table in front of Tommy. Holy shit, Brett. I can't believe it, man. Fuck, what's it been? 20 years?

at least maybe more brett replied with a little sliver of guilt in his voice wow it it's it's fucking crazy tommy i mean thank you facebook right huh yeah for sure wow what's going on man catch me up where are you working what are you doing you still with sherry kids what brett laughed as tommy's barrage of questions poured out at him Yeah, man, me and Sherry have two kids. Nathan and Kelly. She's great. I'm working over at Martel Industries, pulling in contracts for our aeronautical department. You know, nine to five in a man. Tommy nodded his head as Brett rolled out the highlights of his existence in less than 20 seconds. He smiled as Brett talked, waiting for more and more details, anticipating a crescendo. But when Brett finished on the 9th, nine to five thing. Tommy's smile hung on his face and then slowly faded like a clumsy bird sliding down a glass window. Wow, that's intense, man. Busy life, huh? Brett sensed instantly that Tommy seemed slightly disappointed that maybe he was expecting more. Well, wait, what about you, man? You ever start that car dealership you always talked about? Tommy's eyes flittered open and shut in rapid succession,

as if Brett had hit a nerve. He shifted slightly in his seat and grabbed his drink. Nah, that never worked out. I ended up working for this guy in the West End, you know, carpet cleaning business, shampooing, stain removal. Yeah, yeah, of course, for sure. Brett tried his best to seem enthused. But hey, man, what are you drinking?

You want one of these? Tommy held up his glass and taunted Brett with his dirty martini. Sure, fuck, why not? Make it a double. Brett smiled broadly and Tommy broke out into his authentic Tommy laugh. The ice had been broken. The formalities out of the way. Tommy waved the waitress over and before long the two old friends would be six drinks deep

into their unexpected reunion. At about 10.30 p.m., the drinks had loosened both the men up considerably. Memories and stories have been flowing out of them as freely as the liquor have been flowing into their glasses. They had covered the gambit. Football, girls, pranks, cars, sex, you name it. There was a look of contentment on each of their faces, like this reunion had been a good idea. But it was healthy and, dare say, needed. Both men were clearly loosened up, their tongues no longer careful with their words. The fun and frivolity had begun to run out of steam, and maybe it was the booze, or maybe it was a genuine feel of concern.

But Tommy cracked through the levity with a question that brought everything to a screeching halt. So, you happy Brett? Tommy's voice innocent, but yet calculated. Brett's mind visibly shifted gears. His perpetually drunk smile instantly faded and his expression became more wistful, if not somewhat guarded. Why? Why would you ask that, Tommy? Brett's tone slightly challenging. I don't know, buddy. You know how life is. We all go through a lot. Shit happens, right?

Brett released his drink from his grasp and ran his hand through his hair. He was thinking, unprepared for Tommy's question. Tommy could sense his uneasiness and quickly change the subject. Hey, listen, forget it. It's all... No, no, no. It's a good question, Tommy. Brett interrupted. I, uh, um... Brett pulled his hand. out of his hair and stared into Tommy's face. I'm not sure, Tommy. I'm not sure if I'm happy. Tommy's expression didn't change

as if he already knew the answer ahead of time. Do you still think about him? Who? Brett answered almost too quickly. Come on, Brett. You know, your dad. Brett instantly looked hurt. Tommy had breached a topic

that he didn't think would come up on this night. Brett went silent. Suddenly he felt he was at the table alone, all his thoughts becoming introspective immediately. I know this must sound crazy, but I still think about it a lot. I just felt like, you know, maybe you're still suffering inside, like maybe it's holding you back or something. Suddenly Brett snapped to full attention,

gritting his teeth and his stare shifting from friendly to confrontational. Tommy knew the look, and his eyes fluttered once again. Listen, Tommy, what do you know about my goddamn dad anyway? Brett's tone was harsh and direct. Tommy was unfazed. He felt it was within the boundaries of their friendship to ask such a personal question. He replied to Brett calmly and evenly. I was there, Brett.

Remember? I know how much it impacted you. It changed you. It changed me? Brett snapped. It was never the same, man. It's when we drifted apart. You and me, best friends, Brett, we drifted apart.

Brett stared at Tommy and bit his lower lip. Even in his agitated state, Brett could sense Tommy's hurt. He knew that Tommy was right. He knew that it was Brett who pushed away Tommy's friendship all those years ago. Brett took a deep breath before saying what he was about to say. He wasn't sure if it would make any sense. Just to be positive he could get the words out, Brett lifted his martini to his mouth, tilted it back, and swallowed every last alcoholic drop.

I saw him, Tommy, Brett said bluntly. What? Who? You saw who? My dad. At my house. In the backyard two weeks ago. Brett couldn't have sounded more sincere. Tommy read Brett's face and wasn't sure about Brett's. That's ludicrous response. Okay, you know what? Hey, sorry I even brought it up, man.

I was just concerned about you, and Brett didn't let him finish. I'm not bullshitting you, man. He was there. I saw him. I saw you. I saw Sherry. Tommy sat there silently. There was purity in Brett's voice that he knew.

I think that's subconsciously why I reached out to you, Tommy. I've been having these visions, these flashed. flashbacks. What? What are you talking about, buddy? Tommy was concerned but intrigued. Brett stared at Tommy with all the sober authenticity he could. Let me show you, buddy. Come with me, 20-minute cab ride at this time of night and we'll get right to my house. Buddy, maybe we better call it a night. You know, slow down a little. Brett's arm lashed across the table like a rattlesnake, his hand gripping Tommy's forearm tightly. Tommy's body jolted from the unexpected contact from Brett.

Whoa, buddy, take it easy, Brett. But Brett wouldn't be denied. Please. The two grown men stared at each other. All the nostalgia of their youth flowing back into their souls in that instant. All the laughs, all the adventures, all the secrets, all the trust. Tommy could feel Brett's needful energy coursing through his hand and pouring into him. He knew that Brett was reaching out.

for real. After a moment, somewhat hesitantly, Tommy put his hand on top of Brett's and said comfortingly, let's go. A half hour later, Brett and Tommy were giggling like drunk school kids as they spilled out of the back of a cab and onto Brett's front lawn. I swear to God, Tommy, when I walked into the bar and looked around, I thought, who's the bald pervert sitting in the corner? And then you waved to me and I went, oh, man, that's Tommy. Tommy shook his head as he laughed. He grabbed Brett's shoulder as they stumbled up the lawn towards the side gate. Ha, look who's talking, asshole. You're the one that was supposed to be a football star, remember? How's that working out for you, champ? Ha ha ha. They both stopped to laugh out loud. Perhaps too loud. Brett grabbed Tommy's shoulder and

hushed him. Sh! You don't want to wake Sherry up, man. come on the backyard as quietly as two full-grown drunk men could they soft stepped across the grass to the side gate once on the other side brett led tommy over towards the shrubs where the garden hose was coiled on the ground where the hell are we going brett jesus it's dark back here brett bent down and picked up the end of the garden hose his laughter of merriment fading into seriousness what the hell is that tommy as Brent held the hose up near Tommy's face. This is it, Tommy, the hose. I'm telling you, every time I drink from the hose, I go backwards in time. Tommy stared at Brett, the drunken haze, lifting slightly. Are you shitting me, man?

You brought me all the way here to show me your fucking garden hose? Come on, Brett. With all the sincerity, Brett can muster in his drunken state, he pleaded with Tommy to listen. Look, I don't know. how. I don't know why, but every time I drink from a hose, it happens. Tommy just stared at Brett like he was crazy. Come on, man, what is this? Think about it, Tommy. When was the last time you drank from a garden hose? Seriously, Tommy demanded? Yeah, when. I don't know when I was a kid probably.

Who thinks about this kind of shit? Exactly, Brett announced. When you were a kid just like me. and when I drank from one for the first time in 35 years, all my memories came rushing back. From when I was a kid, I mean. Tommy smiled hesitantly, amused but skeptical. And? And I want to see if it happens to you. If you drink from the hose, if it takes you back to, you know, when you were a kid.

Tommy was suddenly starting to sober up faster than he had planned. Come on, buddy. It's getting late. I better get gone. But before Tommy could take a step, Brett reached over and turned on the tap, water frothing out of the end of the hose, splashing at their feet. Please, Tommy, Brett insisted. I swear to you, I saw my dad. Tommy could read the importance of this moment all over Brett's face. He knew he wasn't joking around. Hesitantly, Tommy took the hose from Brett's hand and placed his mouth on the stream of cold water. Brett watched him almost hungrily, praying that Tommy would be transported to another place

in time the way he had. Tommy gently closed his eyes and took small gulps of the shimmering liquid. After a moment of drinking, Tommy's hand started to shake. Brett's mouth dropped open with astonishment. Tommy's eyes began to twitch, his head vibrating from side to side. Brett was captivated, monitoring Tommy's every move. Within seconds, Tommy's body began convulsing, his shoulders lurching, his head jerking back and forth. Suddenly Brett became concerned. Tommy? He uttered nervously, but it was no good. Tommy wasn't listening. His movements became more violent, his entire body trembling and spasming out of control. Tommy, Brett yelled. Suddenly Tommy's body came to a complete stop, frozen. Brett stood there crawling out of his skin with anticipation.

Slowly, Tommy turned his head towards Brett, and his eyes opened ever so slowly. Holy shit, buddy, you were right. I went back in time. I saw you. You were fucking Mrs. Solansky under the bleachers at our high school. Brett was completely fascinated but confused. Wait, who's Mrs. Zelansky? In a raspy, almost otherworldly voice, Tommy said, our fat, disgusting grade 10 geography teacher. Brett hardly had time to be stunned before a wide mischievous smile broke from ear to ear across Tommy's face.

Ha ha ha! I got you, fucker. Ha ha, Mrs. Salansky. Remember with the huge mole on her upper lip? Ha ha ha! Tommy was cracking up. Brett was so offended and incensed that he had no choice but to crack up too.

He scolded Tommy as he laughed. Oh, you fucking is. idiot? Oh, are you serious? And she was screaming your name too. Brett, Brett, Brett. Tommy added. They laughed for what seemed forever until finally their breath ran out. Brett grabbed the hose from Tommy and straightened himself. Fuck Tommy. You know what? Thank you. I think I might have been cracking up. Watching you drink, ha ha ha. Makes me realize what a fucking dip should I've been drinking from the hose. What the hell is wrong with me? Almost without thinking Brett brought the hose up to his mouth, laughter still rolling off his tongue. He brought his mouth into contact with the water and

suddenly his bubbly laughter seemed to acquire an echo. He closed his eyes and drank. And as he looked over to Tommy, Tommy was 17 again. The bald, overweight Tommy was gone. Thank you.