Pulpit Rock: solo ascent

Brooks Brothers at Fifteen

Mom was in the house crying as usual. When he had gotten home he had checked on her. Told her he was home. She just continued her quiet sobbing. How could anyone have that many tears? He always thought that her eyes must hurt so badly from that much weeping. Grabbing a couple of tapes from his room, he retrieved a bong from the bushes outside the back of the house, and walked toward the quarter acre that constituted the “far back”. Dad was waiting for him, sitting under the Avocado trees. A circle of chairs in the dirt surrounded an old milk crate covered with a batiked cloth. Sitting down, he took a lid of weed from his shirt pocket. His father hadn’t aged. He was dressed in a dark grey Brooks Brothers suit, a dark blue paisley tie, and a light blue dress shirt. His hair was silvering, shining, and long in comparison with the conservatism of his clothes. Still forty-eight years old. The same age as that last day he had seen him three years ago. He was starting to get used to the fact that his father would come and sit with him under the tree. Dad rarely spoke. He just seemed to watch.

“How can she cry so much? I mean, her eyes are always so red, so raw. You know I don’t cry as much as I used to. I don’t have time I guess. You know? What should I do for her? I mean, you know? I mean…” his voice trailed off as he stared at his father who was leaning back in a chair.

He tried again, “Let me ask you something…why did all this have to happen? I mean, where’s God anyway? You know you made me kind of believe in that stuff. God and stuff. Then, I guess you made me not believe in God. I don’t know. But you’re here and you shouldn’t be, and I think you’re real. But I know you can’t be. And isn’t that like God? I mean, that he’s real even though he can’t be? Not that you’re God. I know that, I guess.”

He took the bowl off the stem of the bong and blew through the hole. After inspecting the bowl, he filled it with some of the pot from the bag. The late afternoon summer sun, leaking through the avocado trees, cast long shadows in the heat. Pulling a tape deck from inside of another covered milk crate, he slipped a tape in. Pushing the play button, the silence from his father was drowned out. It was replaced with The Stones singing “Gimme Shelter.” Lighting a match he stared at his dad for a second and then pulled a bong load. While holding in the hit he saw his dad look away from him. “yeah we’re goin’ ta fade away…”

Blowing out the smoke he continued, “See, it’s like this, um, mom hears things and I see things. I mean, I’ve heard you as well, but seeing grandpa the other day too? Wow that was creepy. You know? I mean, why would he come here? He was always disappointed in me after you were gone. I mean, I got kicked out of the Boy Scouts for refusing to pray! You know! So why did he come here? He just sat out by the swimming pool and stared into space. Did you know that he came here?”

Mick and Keith kept right on playing. “whoa…children…it’s just a shot away…it’s just a shot away, yea, yea, yea…” He ignored the fact that his father never liked The Stones -- or rock for that matter. His dad was staring at his hands now. His hair falling from his part across his forehead. Setting the bong down, he picked up a dry avocado leaf. Crushing it, he smelled a spicy scent.

“Okay so…you won’t tell me about why this is all happening to me. You know, I used to cry all the time, just like her, like mom. Now I need to show her that there is another place…I mean, like, a totally different place. Where she doesn’t need to hurt so much. Why don’t you go and talk to her? I mean, she hears voices anyway…so what difference would it make if it was you? That would be so much better than whatever it is she hears now, like, you know what I mean? Dad? I can’t make her see her way out of wherever she is now. She’s trapped wherever she is...I can tell you that.”

He stretched in his chair and looked at the sky up in between the canopy of leaves. When he looked back, his father was staring intently at him. His father’s hand dropped a crushed avocado leaf onto the fine dirt. The smell made him sad.

“Are you real? Are you God? Or am I like her? You know, sick or whatever. I can’t have friends over anymore dad. If they saw mom they wouldn’t understand that she’s just really sad about you dying, you know? So it’s just you and me…and I guess grandpa now. Man, that was weird. Why did he come here? Tell me.”

“You’ve got the silver…you’ve got the gold…” The sun hit him directly in the eyes washing out the world. “Yeah, I’ve got the silver. Hear that dad? What should I do for her? Give me at least that, will you? Just say, ‘Son, blah blah blah.’ Okay? But you know, like you were still here and could actually tell me. Come on, please talk to me.”

His father shifted in the chair and pushed his hair back. Blue eyes seemed to look right through him. Then his father reached out and placed another dried leaf on his lap.

“Crush that for me,” his father said. “I can’t smell it anymore. But I can smell it when you smell it. Do that for me son.” His father stared at him and waited.

“Wait…when I smell something you smell it too? So do you get stoned when I get stoned? That would be totally weird, I mean, getting stoned with my dad. No, that’s too weird.” He picked up the leaf from his lap and twirled it over and over.

Raising his face back to his father, he said, “Okay…no problem. But we’ll have to make a trade. I’ll crush up the leaf if you’ll tell me what to do for mom. Okay? I mean, that’s fair isn’t it? Like, you know, I would smell the leaf for you anyway. Even if you said no about telling me what to do for mom. Cause, it’s not like you’re real or anything. Unless you are. God.” He started quietly laughing, “God…get it? Man. Couldn’t you just let her see you? I mean, maybe then she would stop hearing all those things, and stop crying all the time, and…”

Then he started to shake. And the tears came. They came so violently that he couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t hear anything either, except for his whimpering and sobbing. His nose began to run and he doubled over placing his head in his own lap. Periodic convulsions of sadness wracked his body. Then he heard the leaf crush in his balled up fist. And the pungent odor of avocado spiced the air. On the back of his neck he felt a hand gently caress him.

“It’ll be okay. Your mom does see me. Just not the way you do. You’ll be okay. Cry now, it’s okay,” he heard his father whisper to him.

But it wasn’t okay was it? Never, ever, again. Soon he saw all his dead relatives hanging around the yard. All of them seemingly intent on some sort of meditation on whatever was before them. Grandma stared at the stable. Grandpa continued his fascination with the pool. Two of his dead cousins showed up and just sat under the basketball hoop. None of them said anything. In the meantime, his mother descended ever further into her delusional reality. So, one day, he went into the house and gathered up as much glue as he could find. In all he found four bottles. Then he took a long hot shower. Afterwards, he went back to the avocado trees and sat down and waited.

When his father appeared he smoked some pot and crushed a bunch of leaves. Then he took off all of his clothes and folded them neatly. Hanging from the tree was a thick rope, which acted as a climbing rope. Taking hold of the rope, he pulled himself up into the tree. He had brought a brown paper grocery bag with him, held in his teeth, up into the tree. The bag was full of the crushed avocado leaves, the bottles of glue, and the tape deck. First he smeared glue over his skin, working in small areas at a time. This process began with the upper left quarter of his body. After the glue was in place he pressed the crushed leaves onto his body. He continued until he was covered in glued on crushed leaves. He could smell the mix of avocado spice and white glue.

“How’s that smell dad?” he whispered to his father, who now sat on a branch across from him. “I kept my part of the bargain you know. I never quit. I never died. But you couldn’t tell me what to do for her could you? I gave you all these leaves…that’s what you asked for...wasn’t it? Then all these people show up and they’re just zombies. So now I’ve got a gift for you.”

He put a tape into the tape deck that he had wedged into an elbow of the branch. Pushing play he heard, “I’m your toy…I’m your old boy, and I don’t want no one but you to love me…” Pulling up the climbing rope, he fashioned a noose about midway down its length. The dried glue made his skin feel constricted. No, he felt held, like in some giant hand. It felt like the imaginary hand of his dad. Or God. He smiled. Slipping the noose over his head, he knocked some of the leaves off his cheek. He watched as they twisted their way to the ground below. Then he tightened the noose around his neck and crouched on the thick branch. Suddenly all his dead relatives crowded around under the tree. They left an opening directly below him. An invitation, he thought. Gram Parsons continued in the background, “ No I wouldn’t lie…You know I’m not that kind of guy.” The late afternoon sun hit him in the eye and he heard something far away. As he slipped off the branch he heard his mother calling for him. It was a mistake, he thought. But he knew he would at least be able to get her to see him. Like dad said she saw him. And he would ask her to crush up avocado leaves for him. And she would feel better then. The sun disappeared. He saw all his relatives gather leaves up and crush them. Then he called out to his mother, “I’ll be right there mom!”