(Note: Since I’ll be out of town and far away from any computers for a while after the 15th of August, I thought I’d retrieve a few of prose pieces I’ve published from the archives of Compendium: The Kitchen Sink and schedule them to be re-published. I’ll be back with new prose starting the 31st. I believe I’ll still be able to schedule poetry that has not been published here previously while I am gone.
If you happen to be among the folks who access Compendium: The Kitchen Sink primarily through Facebook or Twitter, this might be a good time to subscribe to have it delivered directly to your email box, as I will be unable to share to those social media sites while I am gone.
I am pleased by the continued interest in my work. I’m having fun with this. Thanks!)
What Cal Was Doing with His Life a story Cal didn’t really know what he was doing. He had little money, fifteen bucks at the most. But he felt like he had to get out of the city. It was summer and hot and no one was offering to take him to the beach. He was too, um… proud? Perhaps. Too proud to ask or suggest. The city was dead in the summer. He didn’t have to work for a few days, and it seemed everyone he thought he’d been close to had disappeared, at least for now. Even his dreams became evasive, hard to remember, spooky. He recognized no one in them. Still, they woke him and disturbed him. So he ended up on the freeway entry ramp, hitch-hiking north. He thought maybe he’d go to the end of the road. He’d go until the road, or the rides, ended. It took a long time for the first ride to come along. He almost gave up and went home. But it’s always tough getting a ride in the middle of the city. There was no one home. James, his roommate, left town the week before and rent was due and Cal didn’t have it, not all of it. He didn’t want to have to deal with the landlord. A nice enough guy. He might even let him pay a part of it until he could scratch up enough to catch up. Cal was pretty sure that’s the way it would go. His roommate had been a pretty good one, but left to move in with his girlfriend, a painter and dancer who graduated from the university and got a job in Chicago. She was a pretty wonderful person and talented. He had seen her perform a number of times. Her dances even made their way into his dreams. Weird. A silent middle-aged guy who smoked a lot picked him up first. He gave Cal a couple of cigarettes. Cal didn’t mind the silence. The windows were open and the noise was considerable. The guy fiddled with the radio a lot. Baseball game. Jazz. Country (part of a Patsy Cline piece… “Walking After Midnight”). Baseball game. A news cast. The driver muttered “assholes” a few times. A talk show about the aftermath of the war and jobless veterans. The driver said his youngest brother was killed in the war. He said nothing else. Baseball game. Cal hated the whole “what are you doing with your life” question, especially these days, and was glad this guy didn’t ask about what he did or what he planned to do. That driver let him off where the freeway ended and turned into a four laner through Big Rapids. He held his thumb out as he walked but doubted anyone would pick him up. He’d have to walk the entire town. That seemed likely enough. (How many times did he walk through Toledo trying to get from the turnpike to 75? Or vice-versa?) Why did he even do this, this hitch-hiking thing? And why today? He sweat as he walked. He only had a couple of days until he had to go back to work. Fuck. They’d never miss him anyway. The check was miserable. It hardly covered rent and food and now James was gone. Best not to think about it. Suddenly a roar came up the road from behind him. He turned around to see. A huge motorcycle gang was coming up on him. He put his thumb down and stood while they passed. Musta been fifty bikes. Those ratty jury-rigged machines with riders just as ratty and just as jury-rigged. There were a few women riding alone or with a guy on a number of the bikes. Lots of hair flying. The smell from the machines was strong. Cal wasn’t the only one who stopped to watch. Something attractive about this bunch, he had to admit… though they intimidated him too. Attractive and dangerous. He supposed they liked that part, their ability to freak people out. A couple of the women were laughing and one noticed Cal and took hold of her breasts and turned toward him as she passed. She was laughing and so was the driver though he wasn’t sure if the driver saw her gesture at Cal with her breasts. That was a turn on to Cal in some way, though he wasn’t sure what about the whole scene was so hot. Musta been some kind of porno reaction. Too much porno. His mind drifted to a three-way scenario with a biker and his chick. Cal shook it off as the last of the bikes passed and he picked up the pace to get through town.
He was right. No one picked him up in Big Rapids. The traffic was pretty heavy and it was unlikely that he could be seen very well anyway, along the side of the road with its parked cars, signs, and turn lanes at every intersection. He didn’t mind walking that much, though he got pretty sad and felt a little hopeless. The kind of hopeless that surfaces when he walked. It wasn’t all bad, though that was the kind of feeling he’d hoped this little hitch-hike would squelch a little. He walked a lot. Cal’s life was without goals or purpose right now. Even this stupid little hitch-hiking trip seemed to want to offer him some relief from the overwhelming sense of being nowhere and doing nothing. When he first moved into the apartment there were a number of people within a block of the place that he knew and who he considered to be his friends, but then things did not go well for him and they were going much better for everyone else, or so it seemed. He hated to ask for money or cigarettes and couldn’t really go anywhere or do anything without someone giving him money for meals and cigarettes and if the thing everyone wanted to do… you know, as a group… cost money? Well, folks were often nice enough, but he got tired of it and ended up avoiding the whole scenario. Then people started moving away, out of the neighborhood or in the case of his roommate, out of town. He had a midnight gig at the party store. On weekends. He hadn’t quite figured out how he would make ends meet now that he was living alone. And what about heat when it got colder? Cal looked ahead. The road rose up into some hills. The traffic had thinned. He didn’t mind the party store. He met Sylvia there. She was okay. They fooled around some. They hadn’t fucked yet. Probably they shouldn’t be fucking around in the back room, but at three in the morning there’s no one around much so... fuck. It just made him hornier. He was sick of being horny. All. The. Time. He thought of his last visit with Petra. She lived in Cleveland. She played conga drums and wrote a little poetry. Good stuff. They used to do acid together. They were never really boyfriend and girlfriend, but they liked each other a lot. They laughed a lot together. She came to visit him a number of times. She’d gotten even more distinctive, beautiful really, since he moved to Michigan. It was always a fine time when she visited. The apartment had a large clawfoot tub. Neither Cal or Petra were small but they could fit in the tub together. They spent a good deal of the time in that tub. Some of the time they just talked. Important stuff even. It helped. Petra had a kind of informal Zen outlook. She didn’t think it was important to have life goals or plans. Not in the long run. They never let it get too deep and laughed together often, along with the sex, which was lazy and slow, though Cal was never sure if she ever came, and she never addressed it even when he would bring it up. That was a little disturbing. But, in the long run, he figured her orgasm was her responsibility. He was more than willing to help if she would let him in on what got her off. She had lovely pendulous breasts. Suddenly a little Dodge pulled off the road and the driver motioned to him. Cal ran to get to the car. The guy opened the back seat door and Cal got in. There was a kid in the front with the driver, maybe six or seven. He was chewing on some red licorice and his lips were pretty red. The driver asked where Cal was going and Cal said “to the end of the road”. “Petoskey, eh?” “Is that the end of the road?” “Yeah, 131 ends there. Having any luck?” “Not too bad. Had to walk through Big Rapids, but I kinda expected that when my last ride let me off right in town” The little kid just stared at Cal and yanked on the licorice. “That’s a couple of miles back… almost five” “Yeah? No kidding… I was thinking I might try to get to Charlevoix. I’ve got a buddy there.” “Well, I can take you to Boyne Falls. I’m dropping the kid off at his mother’s there.” “Boyne Falls?” “Yeah, you can keep on 131 to Petoskey from there or take M75 from there to Charlevoix once you go through Boyne City—” “Boyne City. How far is that?” “From Boyne Falls? Not far. Then you have to go around the lake to get to Charlevoix” “The Lake? “Yeah. Lake Charlevoix. Turn around Jordan. It ain’t polite to stare. How many times did I tell you that? ” It’s okay” “He’s got earrings poppa—” “Turn around Jordan. I could let you off at 32. You could take that to get to Charlevoix” “How come you got earrings mister?” “Jordan. Turn around” “Momma says boys who wear earrings don’t know Jesus.” “Jordan? What did I tell you?” “I really don’t have any plan. I just had to get outta the city. You think—” “Momma says boys shouldn’t wear earrings.” “Jordan turn yourself around and sit your ass down” He grabbed the child and sat him down facing forward. The kid started to cry. “I think I’ll just go to Petoskey.” “Stop your crying, Jordan. What did I tell you about crying. Ignore the kid. His mom has some weird ideas.” “Mommy loves Jesus Poppa! You shouldn’t say that.” “Jordan shut up and sit still.” The kid continued to whimper. “What kind of work do you do? Pay the kid no mind. I’ve known plenty of guys who wear earrings… and not all of them were fags so—” “Huh?” “What kind of job you do?” “Right now? Um. Right now I work part time in a gas station party store. Stop N’ Shop. It’s pretty limited.” “Oh?” “Midnight shifts. I’m looking for something else though, and I’m trying to finish a degree but I’m not really sure what I want to do so that’s kinda on hold. I just wanted to get outta town for a day or two. What d’you do?” Suddenly the driver reached over and slapped the whimpering kid “Didn’t I tell you to stop that? Gimmee that licorice.” The kid wailed. To Cal: “Sorry about that, but he’s got to learn. No one ever let me carry on like that—ever—” “What d’you do?” “I’m disabled. Got Disability. Bum back and shoulder. Worked for twenty years dry wallin’. Now I can’t even lift my arm higher than…” he lifted his arm to demonstrate. “Wow, That’s pretty bad.” “Eh, it’s not too bad. Not really. I do some side jobs. Under the table. Kinda. Hey. Jordan. Jordan. Daddy’s sorry he hit you, but really pal… you gotta learn. No one likes a crybaby, buddy—” he ruffled Jordan’s hair. Jordan pulled away. “I’m telling Mom. You’re not allowed to hit me. She told me—” To Cal: “Listen to that. Turned him against me. I swear.” To Jordan: “She hits you all the time… I know that for a fact buddy… so—” “Not that hard, Daddy.” He sniffled. “That hurt.” “That’ll toughen you up kid… no one likes a sissy.” He ruffled Jordan’s hair again. They drove in silence for a while. What’s your name? Mine’s Jake. Wanna beer? I’ve got a couple in that little cooler back there with you.” Jordan was back to staring at Cal. “Cal. My name’s Cal.” Cal fumbled with the cooler and got two beers out, passing one up to Jake. They had three beers a piece by the time they got into Boyne Falls an hour or two later when Cal got out of the car. He was a little blurry but walked through the little burg with his thumb out. He liked the beer buzz. The sun was warm and there was a nice breeze. There wasn’t much traffic, but enough to keep him hopeful.
Still, it took a long time for him to get a ride and the sun was stretching the shadows out from the trees and shade from little houses and barns moved over the grass and fields. There were a few crows that seemed to accompany him and during a longish lull in the traffic he saw a small group of deer cross the highway ahead. He figured it must be getting close to eight-o-clock. His thinking was fuzzy. Finally, a car swerved off the road to pick him up. Two men in the front seat and a woman in the back seat with Cal. By the time they dropped him off just outside of Petoskey, they told him they were headed to the casino. The woman was very nervous, even distressed, it seemed to Cal. One of the guys in the front said they were from Traverse City and were going to the casino in Petoskey because the woman had voluntarily banned herself from going to the casinos down there. Cal asked how that worked, and she explained it. She had let the gambling get out of hand. They all laughed. Cal noticed she was wringing her hands. He walked to the intersection of highway 131 and highway 31, the one that followed the lakeshore down to Charlevoix and went through Petoskey and on up to Mackinaw City. 131 ended at the intersection. Cal hadn’t told anyone where he was going and hadn’t been in touch with his friend Josh, his friend who lived in Charlevoix, so he wasn’t even sure if Josh would be there or could put him up for the night. Cal’s phone had broken a few weeks ago and he had no funds to get another. He couldn’t afford a new contract. During the ride with the guy and his kid he’d decided he’d hitch back home the next morning, just in case it took him longer than one day. He had to be at work. He didn’t bring any real camping stuff or food. Just some snacks and a bedsheet. For some reason a bedsheet. He had a small knife and a lighter. He wandered down around the waterfront. The sun would be setting soon over the water. It was pretty impressive. There were scads of kids as well as folks closer to his age jumping into the water off the breakwall down by the marina. It looked like fun. He wished he had a towel or a bathing suit. He wasn’t even wearing shorts. An attractive couple, about his age, who had been swimming there told him he should jump in anyway. They asked him if he was wearing boxers and he said he was. They convinced him it would be okay if he jumped in just with those on and he did. The water was clear and cold. There were huge rocks along the bottom at the edge of the breakwall, about fifteen feet down, and he joined a number of other guys who were diving down to them, not always successfully. Some of the guys were doing these great flips into the water. Another swimmer who had a mask reported that there were fish in and around the piles of rocks, and Cal dove down to see if he could spot one. The guy with the mask let him borrow the mask and sure enough, a small school of panfish, maybe bluegill, scattered during one of Cal’s dives and a bullish looking bass swam right under him as he rose to the surface inside the tumble of bubbles from his breath.
The light was getting dim, the sun was setting, and he thought he ought to find somewhere to sleep for the night. He had no idea where. He walked back up to the highway and walked until he found a place where he could drop down the thickly wooded bluff that rose up from the shore of the bay, between the highway and the water. He scooted down through the trees until he found a very small level clearing completely enfolded in trees where he thought he could hang out for the night and not be noticed. The sunset was pretty magnificent. It was pitch dark when he woke shivering with the cold. He wrapped himself in the sheet he brought but that didn’t really work. He was still very cold. Despite the dark he was able to collect a small number of sticks and small branches and start a fire. That helped, though he woke whenever the fire died out, and he had to start it again. He was a little worried that someone would notice the fire or the smoke and that he might get picked up for vagrancy, but that never happened. He had some bizarre dreams. In one dream crows led him to a cave where there were fountains and the remnants of a party or festival of some kind. He was excited about the prospect of food but every time he tried to approach the long tables laden with food it became clear that the food was spoiled and picked over by the crows. He fell slowly backward into the crystalline pool and a huge fish swam up under him and took him to the surface… sunny and full of swimmers jumping from a pier. He didn’t make the connection to his experience at the breakwall when he woke from that dream. He was just cold, and it was a little past dawn. He gathered his stuff and walked back up the bluff to the road. He wandered through the town. It was eerily deserted. Even the main highway was bereft of traffic. He wondered if he was still in a dream though he knew that was ridiculous. He decided to walk back out to the highway and start home. There was a gas station open. He grabbed some snacks and a couple of pops and ate a stale donut on the way out. A police car went by. That made him nervous and he hurried up the hill that headed south out of town. The police car went by again, but the officer just waved at him. He got home in seven rides. The time between rides was quicker than on the way north the day before. One man, his second ride, was on his way across the state to his job in the oil fields. He was a nice enough fellow. Quite a talker. His wife had died recently, and he was trying to put his life back together. That’s what he said. He talked at length about what it was like, what losing his wife was like. Cal listened because he didn’t know what to say. For some reason the guy was very thankful and held on to Cal’s hand for longer than usual as he got out of the car. He even asked Call if he needed any money. Cal said no. He walked a ways after that fellow let him off. It was hot in the sun, and he was walking through what looked like potato fields. Someone stopped once, he ran up to the car and they peeled off. One of the passengers stuck a hand out the window giving him the finger. Cal could hear loud laughter coming from the car as it sped away. That kind of thing happened before. Cal took it in stride. There were hundreds of dead butterflies in the gravel along the side of the road. Cal had never seen anything like it. The next guy who picked him up was driving an older van. It was kind of cluttered inside with all kinds of tools and other stuff. He said he was an electrician and a contractor and that he worked on his own; he got a lot of referrals because people respected his work. That’s what he said. Cal noticed a little sign above the driver side visor: ”Hitching? Grass or Ass!” with a crude picture of a buxom woman and a smoking joint. Cal had seen similar signs in other cars when he hitched. He didn’t think anything of it. It didn’t mean anything. This guy was a talker, and he had weed. He and Cal hit it off. One of those situations where you can get very intimate very quickly. They had quite a bit in common though this guy, Shelly was his name, was about ten years older than Cal. Smart too. He had been to college. He took classes for years and had been in the service though he was able to avoid a battlefield situation. He worked for a time at an airfield unloading and loading flyers as they came and went. He got testicular cancer later. He was convinced it was from the Agent Orange that often dripped off the planes as they came into the airfield, though no one ever verified that. He was married and had two kids in spite of that. One was a stepson he loved like his own. Cal ended up talking about his money problems and not knowing what he wanted to do. With his life. Shelly was a good person to talk to. He listened. And besides, they were getting higher and higher as Shelly kept the pipe filled and lit as he drove.
They passed a car, a big Caddy, that was stopped almost in the middle of their lane. It was banged up across the grill and the hood and one headlight was busted up. They stopped and found an old man sitting behind the wheel. He was clearly disoriented, and Shelly used his phone to call 911. The old fella couldn’t seem to understand that it was important for him to get his car off the highway. Cal was able to direct traffic around him. Eventually they were able to determine that he had hit, or been hit by, a deer. Shelly called 911 and, in spite of the old guy’s assurances that he didn’t need medical help, Shelly asked for an ambulance. The dispatcher said “better safe than sorry”. Cal and Shelly were able to get the car off the side of the road. Pretty soon a sheriff arrived and it was clear there was nothing else the two of them could do so they took off. Shelly lit up another pipe almost immediately, after digging a couple of beers out of a cooler he had buried in his tools and equipment and the rest of the junk in the back of the van. He started the van, turned to Cal, smiling broadly, handing him the pipe and then the beer, and pulled out onto the road. That cracked Cal up and he took a big hit that made him cough. Not too far down the road, maybe another fifty miles, Shelly suggested they stop at a park he knew of. He had to take a piss he said. They had been talking about sex some, about the sex they had in their lives and what they thought about it all and things that turned them on and things that didn’t. Shelly admitted talking about it was making him horny and he offered to give Cal a blow job. Very matter of fact. Cal was very very high and could think of no reason to decline (for some reason he was approached pretty regularly by men asking the same thing, eventually he’d stopped finding reasons to say no. He liked blow jobs and had reciprocated on a number of occasions). After they were both done Shelley admitted his wife knew he swung both ways and actually got off on it. Cal didn’t have much to say about that. He said he wasn’t sure which way he swung. They both laughed and went on their way. He was sleepy and high the rest of the way home. The other rides were uneventful. Shelly had given him a quick big sloppy kiss as he let Cal out of the van, and they wished each other well. The other rides were uneventful. It was still quite light when he walked up the street to his flat. Sylvia was there, waiting on the stoop. Cal was surprised. She said she wanted to see him. Wanted to see him outside of work. He said that was fine and told her about his hitch-hiking trip and that he was still very high. Sylvia laughed and said she hadn’t been waiting that long. She came into the house with him and sat down while Cal checked the mail. There was a card from Petra. He didn’t open it. Sylvia told him she got another job. Better pay and more hours. They were quiet for a while. Cal found a couple of bottles of coke in the back of the fridge and they sat in the kitchen. Cal said he was tired and wanted to go to bed. He asked her if she wanted to go to bed with him for a while. She said yes.