Grandmas Hands

"Grandma's Hands"

Copyright 2001 by Taylor Siluwe

Part Two

Sonny burst through the door. It was almost dark now and he knew that he had to be in the house soon, or grandpa would bitch. But he had not eaten anything all day and was starving, so he decided to take a chance that the old man wouldn't forbid him to go out again. He was all the way into the kitchen when he suddenly stopped, and realized that something was wrong. He glanced back into the living room, and gasped.

The street lamp suddenly came on, casting an icy glow on the chrome handle of the walker, which stood by the tattered old chair by the window. The sight chilled his churning stomach.

He knew that the old man rarely left that chair, and since he had fallen and broken his hip last year, when he did he leave it, he had to take his walker. Sonny's eyes grew wide, uncharacteristically showing their fear since none of his friends were around to see.

"Grandpa!" he shrieked in an undulating pitch that only a teenager could achieve. Then he rushed over to the window and looked down into the courtyard. He half-expected to see the old man, his last known relative, crumpled amongst the trash.

He wasn't there.

Something brushed against his neck; a tiny puff of air caressed his flesh, like a playful kiss from the wind.

He spun around startled and saw nothing( though he could still feel it, like a tiny cyclone of air, except now it was on his face. Then it moved quickly down his body, which went rigid with fear. It seemed to touch him everywhere as it traveled, pausing briefly at choice areas, as if it were mapping the terrain of his anatomy. Sonny wanted to scream but he had forgotten how( he wanted to run but could barely breathe.

Then it stopped.

Sonny waited, frozen by the window, to see what would happen next. For a while there was nothing. No sounds or sensations were heard or felt. His only companions in the room were silence and fear.

A slight scratching sound caught his attention and his head whipped to the right. He saw nothing but the empty chair. Yet it seemed different somehow, almost alive. If a chair could be alive, then this one certainly was. Low intensity light slipped through the worn fabric, so barely visible that it was almost just a feeling. The worn fibers seemed to move, as if an invisible hand was stroking them. If Sonny had any hairs on his lanky body, then they were standing at attention, as cold fear gripped his innards. Something very weird was going on. His saucer-sized eyes fixated on the chair.

What was so unsettling to his young mind was the aura of a presence in it. Grandpa was gone to God knows where, but it felt like he was still there, sitting in that chair like he always was. Watching over him.

Then the light beneath the fabric pulsed, or surged in some strange way, and it collected into a misty ball and abandoned the chair. It hovered for a moment over the ancient Laz-E-Boy, throbbing in a way that was totally non-threatening. It actually seemed to caress the air.

As suddenly as it appeared before Sonny's astonished eyes, it zipped out the window. Then, like the bursting heart of an Angel, it was gone. The handsome boy stood there, too awe struck to allow his eyes to follow the light; too afraid that the loving presence would pull him away with it. It seemed to have that power.

His body shook; overwhelmed by what he had just seen. His appetite had completely vanished, leaving behind a similar feeling of emptiness( though it was one that could not be quenched by a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

The sudden weight of loneliness arrived, causing his stomach to clench and to writhe with grief. His young face seemed to have aged considerable over the past year, exhibiting tiny lines beneath his eyes. With dark circles that said he had seen things; things no seventeen-year old should have to see( incomprehensible things.

He had seen his grandmother standing in the window, chatting with the old man on more than one occasion. It had been too much for him to take at first, for he knew that she was dead. He knew that what he was seeing was not real, and yet in time, he longed for the sight of the wise old face. The one that had told him that she would always be there, ... always.

But she wasn't here now, no one was. He was alone.

He threw his hands to his face, covering it, because he knew that the tears were coming. The little globules of pain seemed to originate in his throat, before gathering in strength in his head directly behind his eyes. But as usual, he contained them there. Sonny was afraid, but he never let it show.

"Is this heaven?" The voice wafted in the window.

Sniffing back his pain, his reddened eyes looked down into the courtyard, and standing there looking lost was a strange boy(a large-eyed lad at that age when his boyhood was weakening, and his manhood was staging a hostile takeover. The man/boy looked up at Sonny with a face that struck a cord of familiarity. He had seen this kid before, he knew, but he could not put his finger on where.

Fear rendered him speechless, though his tears completely retreated to their home in his throat. Now was not the time to cry. He and the man/boy, whose face seemed unnaturally wise, continued to stare at one another.

The man/boy seemed to be in awe of something, and his mouth hung open as if he were in shock. Then he spoke again.

"This cain't be Heaven?" He glanced around at his surroundings.

"What?" Sonny shouted down at him.

Returning his gaze to the second floor window he said, "This cain't be Heaven, ... is it?"

Sonny was taken aback by the statement, then he concluded that the young man must be a nut, or maybe some crazed crack-head. In any event, he didn't have time for it.

"Get the hell out of here, you crazy fuck!" Sonny screamed at him, then retreated to the shadows by the window, out of sight. He completely dismissed him.

The emptiness in the room was suffocating, as he stood pressed firmly against the wall. He knew that something strange had just happened. He also knew that something had touched him, something invisible.

His body was immobilized by fear( yet his eyes moved quickly, scanning the cramped little room while he wondered what to do next. `Where the Hell was grandpa?' he wondered. He needed the comforting presence of the old man right about now.

"You's lookin for your gran'pa, ... ain'cha Sonny?"

Slowing Sonny turned to peer down into the courtyard again. It was the man/boy who had spoken.

"How do you know my name?"

"Come down here, and I'll tell ya," he responded, and then proceeded to run off jumping into the air like a lunatic, shouting, " ... Come down, Sonny! Come down!"

Somehow this strange kid knew him and his grandfather. Sonny felt compelled to investigate( he also felt the urgent need to vacate the premises.

As if in a daze he went down to the courtyard, his hunger forgotten, and was instantly accosted by the young man. He threw his arms around the shocked Sonny, and planted a kiss on his lips.

Sonny recoiled against the taboo display of affection. He punched the kid in the stomach and then in the eye with rapid-fire accuracy, knocking him to the ground with the powerful blows. Instead of howling in pain, the man/boy, who was identical to Sonny in size and complexion, just laughed hysterically from his prone position on the littered concrete.

Sonny felt his fear growing as he watched tears of mirth ooze out of the corners of the kid's eyes. And fear made him angrier, so he lashed out with his foot and began to kick the man/boy with all his might, shouting angry obscenities to assuage his terror. But with one precise movement, Sonny found his legs being knocked out from under him and he soon joined his victim on the hard courtyard surface. The man/boy rose over him, no longer laughing but still filled with a joy that bubbled in his throat, making his words seem to be charged with humor.

"Ya got a helluva punch, kid. You take after your grandpa."

The power in the young face (one that mirrored his own in youth and beauty) threatened Sonny, as if it meant to dominate him. No one his own age had ever dared to look at him that way. He stared up at the face with a territorial gleam in his eyes, like a lion defending his pride against the ambitious advances of a rogue male. No one put him on the ground. No one!

"You crazy piece-a-shit!" he shouted. It was a savage battle cry, immediately followed by a swift kick to the pubescent groin of the interloper, who uttered a cry of his own and returned to the concrete. Sonny rolled over on top of him and punched him in the mouth, drawing blood. As he drew back to repeat the gesture, the man/boy did a Ninja-like move, sending Sonny flying face first to the ground again. As he turned over, shaking his head to clear it, he noticed the man/boy standing there, calmly brushing away bits of glass from his pants.

It was the pants that caught Sonny's eye first. They were old man's pants, cinched tightly around his waist with an old man's belt. Then his eyes slipped down to the shoes; they also were from some former fashion era that was lost on Sonny. And they were too large. They flopped about when he walked, like the footwear of an urban clown, adding a dash of comedy to his frightening aura. But they were strangely familiar.

"Who are you?" Sonny asked.

Reaching up to blot away the blood that trickled from the corner of his mouth, the man/boy quickly became distracted by his own hand. He gazed at it, turning it over and flexing its fingers before responding, "I guess you cain't recognize me, huh Sonny Boy?"

His grandfather had been the only one to call him that, and hearing the endearment from the mouth of this odd individual chilled the core of his being. He could no longer feel the pain in his butt from lying on the broken glass. The man/boy looked directly at him and smiled. Reaching out his hand to the stunned Sonny, he said, "Let me introduce m'self then, my name is Zeke, ... um your gran'pa, boy!"

Sonny's eyes instantly returned to the shoes. His grandfather had a pair just like them.

Briefly, the face hovering over him( that overly friendly face that had issued that astonishing proclamation( began to spin. The world seemed to join in the festivities in Sonny's eyes as it all began to spin around and around until all he saw was a colorful blur. And all he heard was that voice, that strangely familiar voice, calling him Sonny-Boy.

To be continued ~ Taylor Siluwe ~