Read A Very Short Collection of Very Short Stories Page 5


  *****

  After what seemed like hours, the doctor came by. “We’re going to release you, Mr. Daniels. With the exception of a compressed vertebra, your injuries are superficial. When a vertebra is compressed like that – about twenty percent – you can expect to have some back pain, but that should diminish soon and disappear in a couple of months.”

  “Months?”

  “I’ll give your wife a prescription for the pain. Look on the bright side, my friend. This report says that you were hit by a Chevy Blazer and thrown up on the hood. That could have broken your back or your neck or you could have been killed.”

  “I didn’t hear the car. I guess I was relaxed when she hit me.”

  *****

  Yumi drove me home and helped me into the shower. The thought of a warm shower was comforting, but the soap and water on my raw abrasions set my body aflame and brought tears to my eyes. I felt dizzy from the pain but I managed to remain standing until I was rinsed, dried, disinfected, and bandaged.

  *****

  About five weeks later, I left Erickson for my “usual” walk. Having turned down Patton from Flint, I was thinking about the mass-transit initiative. Suddenly, the hair stood up on the back of my neck and I whirled without thinking to confront the danger. Coming down the street, on the right side this time, was a Chevy Truck. My heart was pounding as I watched it go by harmlessly. In that moment I realized that I had heard the Chevy Blazer that hit me. I noticed Anne across the street; she waved. I looked both ways and then crossed the street.

  “How are you?” she asked.

  “I just had a severe case of déjà vu.”

  “I saw.”

  “I want to thank you again for all you did last month – you were super.”

  “Your wife couldn’t believe it was really you I was talking about.”

  “She told me.”

  “I couldn’t believe my eyes. I thought she’d killed you.”

  “The doctor said I was really lucky, but my father-in-law had an explanation.”

  “What was his explanation?”

  “It wasn’t my time.”

  “Maybe not, but I was terrified and I didn’t even know you,” she said.

  “It was so random,” I said. “I was walking against the traffic and some girl started sneezing, crossed onto the wrong side of the street, and there I was.”

  “My husband’s a doctor. He said that cocaine could cause sneezing like that.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “That boy is known in the neighborhood as the local high-school drug dealer. He and his girlfriend used to sniff cocaine together before they broke up. His mother doesn’t let him use her Chevy Blazer anymore.”

  A Walk in the Past

  By Maniel

  “Rachel, why don’t you and grandpa go for a nice quiet walk to the park and get to know each other a little bit. When you get back, grandma and I should have the dinner ready.” I took my grandfather’s right hand, the hand of a working man, rough and uneven. In his left hand he held a heavy, wooden cane. He walked steadily but slowly, and with a slight limp.

  “It’s not far, grandpa,” I said.

  “I’ll be fine,” he said. “Show the way.”

  I was proud that my grandpa, visiting for the weekend, had been entrusted to me for a walk in the neighborhood.

  “What grade are you in now?” he asked.

  “I started sixth grade last month.”

  “What do they teach you in sixth grade?”

  “World history.”

  “Sounds important.”

  “My dad said you were in the war.”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  “My dad said you were a hero.”

  “Did he say what a hero was?”

  “He said that you fought through the whole war and that it was really dangerous.”

  “A lot of us did that.”

  “He said that you were in the four-four-two.”

  “Those were my guys.”

  “He said that you had trench foot and that was how you lost your leg.”

  “A lot of guys lost much more than that.”

  “You walk pretty well. Did you lose your whole leg?”

  “No. For trench foot, they just took off below the knee.”

  “Why did they cut that part off?”

  “To prevent infection, gangrene.”

  “That must have really hurt.”

  “Yeah, it hurt a lot, but the drugs helped and time heals.”

  “Why do you need a cane?”

  “The cane takes the pressure off. When I work, I don’t use it.”

  “Is it heavy?”

  He handed it to me. “Yeah, pretty heavy.” I gave it back.

  “This must be the park,” he said.

  “When I was little, I used to play in the sandbox, swing on the swings, slide down the slide. Did you know that Raymond and I take tennis lessons here now?”

  “Oh look, it’s Rachel, Rachel and some Chinaman.”

  I turned to face the intruders, three boys coming from the concrete basketball court. One of them, from my sixth-grade history class, was doing the talking. “I guess it’s okay,” he said, “if you like short, old Chinamen.”

  “Get lost,” I said.

  “Why are you hanging around with a ‘Chink’?”

  “You have a foul mouth, Tommy Rice,” I said.

  “I’d rather have a foul mouth than spend time with ‘Chinks’.”

  “Go to hell,” I yelled. “He’s not Chinese. He’s American, more American than you are.”

  “My, my, touchy. Well, then his family is Chinese.”

  “He’s Nisei and I’m his family. He’s my grandfather and you’re a little creep.”

  “A nee-see! What’s a nee-see?”

  “‘Nee-say;’ that means second-generation Japanese-American.”

  “Oh, so your grandfather’s a Jap – I guess that makes you a Jap too.”

  I stepped forward to hit him but a strong, rough hand held me back.

  “That was smart – I would have hit Rachel so hard she would have cried for a week.”

  “What do you mean he was a war hero?” asked one of the other boys.

  “He fought in North Africa, he fought in Italy, he fought in France. He was with the four-four-two. Most of them were killed or wounded.”

  “What’s the four-four-two?”

  “That’s where they put Nisei soldiers. The army was segregated.”

  “You Japs fought the Germans?” asked Tommy.

  Grandpa just smiled and nodded.

  “I’m sure they weren’t afraid of you. You’re not much taller than I am.”

  “They were very afraid,” said my grandpa.

  “I don’t believe you,” said Tommy.

  “It’s true,” said grandpa. “Would you like to know why?”

  “You can tell me, but I still won’t believe you.”

  “I will tell you and you will believe me. It’s because we feel no pain.”

  “Ha, now I really don’t believe you.”

  Moving the cane to his right hand and extending his left leg slightly, grandpa struck his left shin with his cane – it made a loud, cracking sound. “Now you,” he said to Tommy, moving suddenly toward him. Tommy let out a shriek and he and the other two boys began to run.

  *****

  Grandpa took my hand and we began to walk back. “I was going to slug him in the mouth,” I said. “Now, I’m glad you stopped me. That was a good trick.”

  “You need to know when to fight.”

  “He was being an idiot. He called you nasty names.”

  “That wasn’t a good reason to fight.”

  “Why not?”

  “I know who I am. He’s just an ignorant little boy.”

  “But didn’t that make you mad?”

  “A little sad, yes, but I’m not mad.”

  “Has this happened before?”

  “Let’s sit for
a moment,” he said, motioning to a nearby bench. “I’ll tell you a little story. The war was over. We had done all we could: three years of mud and blood and being afraid all the time. I was glad to be back in Los Angeles. Even though we had lost a lot, it was still our home. Your grandmother and I were renting a place along with my brother Roy. Roy said, ‘Shig, looks like you need a haircut.’ I said ‘let’s go to Norm’s.’ So, we walked to the old barber shop.”

  “How far was it?”

  “It was pretty close. I was on crutches and I couldn’t walk much right after the war.”

  “So, you made it okay?”

  “Yes, but when we got there, we saw a big sign in the window: ‘no Japs.’”

  “What did you do then?”

  “We went back home. Your grandmother was furious. She said ‘you and Roy and all your friends fought and died for those people, you can barely walk now, and they can’t even give you a haircut. Let’s go back there – this isn’t right.’”

  “Did you go back?”

  “Roy said, ‘looks like the war’s not quite over, but let’s wait until tomorrow.’

  “The next day, we went back to Norm’s, only this time we were in uniform. We walked into Norm’s. It was Norm and one other barber. There were no other customers in the shop yet. Norm said, ‘Didn’t you boys see the sign?’ ‘What sign?’ I said. ‘No Japs!’ he said. ‘We came for a haircut,’ said Roy, ‘but since you brought it up, you might have noticed that Shig and I are American soldiers. We just got back from fighting the Nazis for you. You see that star on Shig’s chest – they call that the Bronze Star. He got that for pulling two medics to safety while we were rescuing the Lost Battalion of Texas.’

  “Then Roy pointed to me. ‘See those crutches, Norm? Shig left his left leg in France for you. Now, what would be the patriotic thing for you to do?’ Norm said, ‘all right, we’ll give you boys haircuts.’ Then Roy asked me whether I still wanted one. I said, ‘Yes, after the sign is gone.’ Roy smiled at Norm and said, ‘I can help you with that, Norm.’ And without waiting, he ripped the paper sign off the inside of the window, tore it neatly into several pieces, and deposited it Norm’s wastebasket. ‘You had no right to do that,’ said Norm. ‘Wrong,’ I said; ‘the war is over and that’s the right we fought for and won.’”

  ###

  Coming soon! The Manifest Destiny Network Chronicles, a trilogy set in the mid twenty-first century, by Maniel.

 
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