Healing through story

Tag: goats

shortfiction24 – out of the game

What I’m Writing This Week

Mike Santiago is forced to take time off from his ER shifts to care for his own kidney injury. Being out of the game is not an option for him.

For all those who have to deal…

Out of the Game

Bob Gillen

Mike Santiago took a deep breath, settled back in the treatment chair. “Sorry to be late,” he said to the dialysis tech. “We were slammed with patients on my ER shift.”

“No worries, Mike.” The tech pierced Mike’s non-dominant arm with two needles and started the blood cleansing process. Blood out to the machine, back into his arm.

Mike leaned his head back. 

“Hey,” the man in the chair to Mike’s left said. “My name is Al. I’m here every Monday, Wednesday, Friday at this time. Looks like we’ll be neighbors.”

“I’m Mike. Yeah, this is my first treatment. New to this whole thing.”

“There was a woman in your chair for the last couple of months. Her name was Ellie. She fell down the stairs at her home. She’ll be in the hospital for a while.”

Mike nodded. “I hope I won’t be here too long. Blunt trauma to my kidneys in a car crash. This should be temporary till my kidneys get a rest.”

“Good for you, man. I’m in this for the long haul. Kidneys are shot. My diabetes went undetected for too long. Screwed me up.”

Mike squirmed in his chair. “Three hours of this.”

“What do you do?”

“ER nurse. Dealing with COVID patients all day.” 

“Shit. Hope you stay healthy. We need guys like you.”

Mike closed his eyes. His phone buzzed.

“Mike here…no, I can’t cover anyone. I’m getting dialyzed.”

He hung up. 

“Won’t let you rest, huh?” Al said.

Mike licked his lips. “Haven’t had a day off in four months.” Mike pointed to his abdomen. “That’s how I messed up my kidneys. I fell asleep at the wheel.”

“You need to chill.” Al held up his iPad. “I’m watching TV. I can turn it up if you want to watch with me.”

“I left my tablet home. Sure. What’s on?”

“The Mandalorian. Know it?”

“Heard of it.”

“Sit back. Enjoy.”

Mike turned his head to watch the iPad Al held out for him to see. Al turned up the volume.

I know that voice, Mike thought after a time. The Mandalorian character. That voice? 

Half an hour into the episode it came to him. He said to Al, “That’s the same voice as the The Lone Ranger. Not the Johnny Depp film. The original TV series with Clayton Moore and Jay Silverheels.”

“You’re too young to know that show.”

“My dad watched the reruns all the time.”

 “You’re right, it’s the same vocal tone. Firm yet soft-spoken.”

“If I close my eyes, I see the Lone Ranger.”

Al smiled. “I’m guessing it’s deliberate on the part of the Mandalorian creators. He’s supposed to be a kind of lone ranger, roaming the universe looking for his people. Righting wrongs along the way. Both have their faces masked.”

“You sound like you’re in the business,” Mike said.

Al cocked his head. “Was in the business. A character actor. Retired a few years ago. Had to. Can’t do dialysis and be available for roles.”

“Enjoying your retirement?”

“As much as I can.” Al paused the iPad screen. “I got a small farm up in Ojai. Raise goats.”

“Any money in that?”

“I rent out the goats for brush clearance before fire season. They’ll eat through a whole hillside in a few days.”

I needed to be out of the game.

Mike nodded.

Al continued. “I got the farm early on in my career. I learned that I needed to be out of the game when I wasn’t working. Refreshing myself in nature. If you don’t have boundaries, you’re screwed in the entertainment industry.”

Mike leaned his head back. Without boundaries you’re screwed in any industry.

The tech came over to check Mike’s machine. “Want a blanket? It’s chilly in here today.”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

Al gestured around the expanse of the treatment room. Twenty-five treatment chairs, all occupied. “Look at this. See those faces. How many of them look healthy?”

Mike sat forward, studied the room. “Not too many.”

“Right.”

“You’re talking about quality of life.”

“Yes, I am. I feel pretty good. But man, three days a week, three hours each time, sitting here hooked up to a machine. For the rest of my life.”

“And…”

“And if I stop, I’ll be dead in a week.”

Mike closed his eyes again, leaned back in the chair.

A beeper went off at Al’s machine. The tech stepped over, tweaked a few settings. 

Al kept talking. “You know what I fear the most?”

“I’ll bite. What?”

“When I’m gone, all my memories are gone too.”

Mike sat up and turned to Al. “Don’t you have kids to pass them on to?”

“Yeah, I got kids. Grandkids too. And boxes full of old photos, old family films. That’s just stuff.”

Mike shook his head. “I don’t follow.”

“I got all these memories stuck in my head. Bits and pieces of my life. Stuff that means something only to me. It all goes when I go.”

“Can’t you talk it all into a recorder? Save it for your family.”

“Mike, you don’t get it. It don’t mean anything to anyone else.”

“Like what?”

 Al hesitated. “Here’s one. Years back I was living on the east coast while I auditioned for roles. One night, it was frigid out, almost below zero. I went out to meet a few guys at a bar. Just ahead of me a guy gets hit by a car. He’s lying in the street, his head bleeding. From his clothes, he was probably a homeless guy.”

Mike nodded.

“I go over to see if I can help. I see blood pooling around the guy’s head on the street…but he was lucky. It was so cold his blood was freezing. It stopped some of the bleeding. An ambulance pulled up in a few minutes. They took him away.”

Mike looked at Al. “And…?”

“That’s it. A scrap of memory. I got lots of these scraps. But they got no meaning. See? I spot a guy bleeding in the street one night. That’s it. Nothing more. When I’m gone, so is the memory.”

“Thanks for cheering me up, Al.”

“Just keepin’ it real.”

Mike smiled. “I think I get it, though. Maybe I’ll end up with lots of memory scraps too. Jeez, all the COVID patients who died on my shifts. I’ve already forgotten most of their names, but I see their faces. Their eyes, in their last moments. Dying alone…”

Al gestured to Mike in the treatment chair. “Like I said about myself, buddy, you need to be out of the game when you’re not working.”

Mike tilted his chair back, closed his eyes, took a long breath.

Out of the game when I’m not working…

***

shortfiction24 – the goat movie

What I’m Writing This Week

Jack and Diane are back. Jack reaches out, tries his humor on a distraught Diane. This is the pair’s fifth appearance on shortfiction24. The characters continue to talk to me.

The Goat Movie

Bob Gillen

Tears ran down Diane Somers’s face as she sipped the last of her breakfast coffee. A single photo lay unframed on the kitchen table. A picture of her late husband, Frank, a huge grin spread across his face, poised to blow out birthday candles. Their daughter Margaret sat at his side. A memorable occasion, only six weeks before Frank’s deadly heart attack. 

Diane pushed the photo aside. Three years gone. Frank…and Margaret. Frank dead, Margaret estranged from her mother. 

Her phone chirped. A text from Jack Marin. Want to see a movie tonight?

Diane hesitated, then replied, What’s playing?

A text came back. A star-studded feature: Billy Idol, Billie Eilish, Billie Holiday, Billy Elliot and Billy Porter starring in the barnyard classic ‘What’s Got Your Goat’? 

Diane stared at the phone. What the hell? She dialed Jack, rather than deal with typing on the phone.

“Hi,” Jack said. “The goat movie sound interesting?”

“I don’t get it.”

“Goats? Billy goats?”

She smiled in spite of herself. “Okay. Sorry, you caught me at a bad time.”

“Should I call later?”

“No, no. It’s fine. Did you stay up all night thinking of that?”

“Nope. I have a notebook filled with these. Been writing them for years. Did you ever watch the old Tonight Show with Johnny Carson?”

“Some. He was not a favorite of mine.”

“Yeah…well I always loved his character Art Fern. Remember? Art Fern and the Tea Time Movie?”

“Vaguely.”

“Girl, your education has sadly been lacking.”

“A matter of opinion…boy.”

Jack snorted. “Okay, I’ll drop it for now…but you may hear more where that came from.”

“Save it, Jack.”

“Listen, if you’re not up to a movie, we could spend a few hours at the zoo. I have a friend who works there. I can get free tickets.”

“Probably not…not today, Jack.” Diane reached for a paper napkin as tears began to flow again.

Jack pushed on. “Yeah, okay. My friend’s a vet. Does a lot of work with the LA Zoo.”

A pause while Diane hesitated to react. 

“He treats mostly the elephants. They seem prone to some kind of skin condition.”

“Jack, don’t.”

“Honest. His business card reads, Pachydermatologist.”

Diane moaned. “I see what you did there…and it hurt.”

“Hey, you throw enough on the wall, some of it will stick.”

Diane took a deep breath, dabbed at stray tears. “Was there a real reason you texted?”

“Actually…yeah. Thinking of you and reaching out.”

“Thanks, Jack. That’s nice.”

“How about dinner tonight? I’d offer to cook for you, but I know you’re skittish about moving too fast.”

“Dinner would be great. How about something light? Maybe a sandwich and salad somewhere.”

“Done. Can I pick you up…or would you rather meet there?”

“Let’s meet there. Wherever ‘there’ is.”

“How about that bistro place at the promenade? They make a good sandwich. Lots of outdoor seating too.”

“See you there at six.”

Diane put her phone down. Her gaze returned to Frank’s photo. You’ve been gone for three years now…please help me understand why Margaret refuses to talk to me. She won’t take any calls from me. It’s killing me, Frank. She’s all I have left.

She reached for a Post-It pad from the counter, pulled off a tab and stuck it over Margaret’s face on the photo. This comes off when you call me.

***

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