Arthur's commentary on the scene in his dreams will always be in bold. This is to differentiate between the Arthur who is dreaming and the Arthur he sees as part of his dreams.
"Go to your family. Get the hell outta here and be a goddamn man."
- Arthur
.
One evening as Arthur slept, he was taken in his dreams to a barn. As he stood looking at it, he couldn't feel the warmth of the sunshine on his face, nor the tiniest breeze that he saw float through the leaves on nearby trees. Didn't hear the dirt crunch beneath his boots as he shifted his weight.
He walked into the barn to see a younger version of himself standing by Eliza's horse Samson, brushing his mane. Arthur looked to his right to see Isaac sitting on the workbench. He must've been about three, no older than four.
This was a memory.
Arthur watched his younger self look over at Isaac with a smile. "You wanna come pet him? I know you like the velvet part on his nose."
"Yeah," Isaac said with a big grin, hopping down and walking over.
His younger self lifted him up and held him while he stroked and patted between the horse's nostrils. Isaac looked back at his father and mumbled a giggle, to which his father smiled and huffed a chuckle.
"Yeah, good ol' Samson. Quite a horse."
"Musta bucked ya a lot when you first caught 'I'm."
He smirked. "Actually, your mama broke this horse."
Isaac's brows came together as he looked at him. "Really?"
"Yup."
"Are you sure?"
"Sure as I'm standin' here."
As he listened to their conversation, Arthur smiled and nodded at the memory of Eliza on that horse for the first time.
"Made it look easy too," he huffed a little laugh. "Taught me a lot about horses and how to treat 'em, stuff I thought I already knew." He reached out and smoothed his hand down the horse's neck, still managing to hold Isaac with one arm. "And he won't take nobody but her. Ol' faithful Samson. He's a good boy."
Isaac looked back at him with a bright smile. "I like the way you say it."
"What-boy?"
"Boah," Isaac repeated, looking down at his mouth.
"Boy."
"Boah." Isaac giggled.
"I don't say it any special way!" his father smirked, shaking his head as he put him back down.
Isaac walked back to the bench and climbed back up. When he turned to sit forward, he swung his dangling feet back and forth. After a few minutes of watching Arthur continue to tend to the horse, he sighed.
"Hey, Arthur?"
"Yeah."
"You like it when I talk to you, right?"
"'Course," he chuckled. "What is it you wanna talk about?"
"Well, I got a question."
"Okay. Go ahead."
"As far back as I can 'member, you always been there, Arthur."
Arthur watched his younger self freeze.
"Yeah…"
"And I know you always tell me the truth."
He cleared his throat. "Sure."
Isaac pursed his lips to the side. "…Why… Why you think my papa don't want me?"
"What?" he whipped his head to him, his brows in a twist. "Who told you that? Not your mother."
Isaac shook his head. "Nobody. I'm just guessing, I guess."
"What makes you guess that?"
"All the other boys and girls in town have mamas and papas. I asked Mama, and she says I got one."
"Yeah… You do. Just like everybody."
"But then…why won't he ever come see me? Mama's good. So it can't be that he don't like her. It's gotta be me." He huffed hard and bowed his head low, his voice high and pinched when he spoke again, almost in tears. "I know Mama loves me, and I try to be good. I try to be good for her. Really, I do. Sometimes I do the wrong thing. Sometimes I don't listen. I just think if I were gooder, my papa might want me."
"No, no…"
Arthur swallowed hard and clenched his jaw, watching forlornly as his younger self sighed and hung his head, trying to keep his brows from drawing up as he came to sit beside him.
"Isaac…" he rubbed his neck. "You're a good kid. A real good kid. Best I know. Just don't worry about your pa, all right? He's a moron. You don't need him."
"But if everybody has a pa, that means everybody needs a pa."
"Naw. It ain't the same thing. I didn't have a pa. Well, I mean, I did. But I was much better off after he…" he cleared his throat, "left. That ain't to say I'm the best feller, by any means, but…" He looked down at his son, who was peering up at him with a confused look. "I've lost ya, haven't I?"
Isaac nodded.
He scoffed a laugh. "Come here, I wanna show you somethin'," he said scooping him up, walking out of the barn with him on one arm.
Arthur followed them.
"I can walk on my own," Isaac said with a sassy smile.
"Sure, but…don't you like it when I carry you?"
"Mmm…yeah," he said with a big grin as he threw his arms around his neck, and they both chuckled.
His father carried him all the way past the tree line behind the house.
"I know where we're going. The creek!" Isaac said.
"The creek, that's right. Is that…'creek,' like 'tree,' or 'crick,' like, 'I got a crick in my neck somethin' fierce'?"
"'Creek!' Like 'tree,' silly! You know the letters," he laughed.
He chuckled with him. "Yeah, mama's been teachin' you your letters, huh?"
He nodded. "She wants me to be ahead of everybody when I finally get to go to school. That means no 'ain't,' and no 'crick,'" he squinted with a smile, shaking his head.
He grinned and nodded. "Good, that's good."
Isaac scrunched his shoulders and face and went into a whisper. "Even though, sometimes she's not very good at remembering, and she still says 'ain't.'"
He laughed. "She ain't— She's not around. You don't gotta whisper."
"Oh yeah!" he said, relaxing his shoulders and lifting his head.
He walked with him another several hundred yards and pointed to where the creek came over the cliffside. "See that? See where the water comes over the edge, and the earth is dipped under it in the middle there? You gotta be like the water, Isaac. Not the rock."
"What do you mean?" Isaac said, scrunching up his nose.
"Well," he said, sitting down on the grass with him in his lap, "what do you think of when you think of water? Is it hard or soft?"
"Soft."
"Yeah. But it's still strong. It goes where it wants to, and nothin' in its way can stop it, not even the rock. Even rocks have to move for it. See?" He pointed to a couple pebbles that were rolling under the rushing water. He lifted his gaze back to the cliff as the cool breeze blew both their necks under their hair. "It even cuts the big rock. Point is, it makes its own path. And look at it." They looked back down to where the creek came before them. "It's still strong and healthy. Make sense?"
"I guess."
"Don't tell him that shit!" Arthur shouted. But they couldn't hear him. It was like he wasn't there.
"And isn't it just one of the prettiest things you ever saw?" his younger self said. "It's clear and bright and shiny. There's nothin' like it."
"Don't you go anywhere," Arthur said to his three-year-old son. "Be the rock, Isaac. Your mama needs you to be the rock!"
His younger self looked at his son's face while Isaac gazed at the water. "You're a good kid, you'll be all right. Even without your pa."
From where he stood watching them, Arthur's brows drew up as he hung his head and sighed.
His younger self smirked wryly and slowly raised his fingers under Isaac's arm. "Enough stern talk for one day," he said as he dug his fingertips into his side.
Isaac immediately lost it, giggling and cackling as he writhed, jolted, and danced, finally throwing himself over his father's lap.
As his giggling petered away and he caught his breath, Isaac turned onto his back and looked up at him. "I don't need a daddy. I got you. You're my best friend. Besides mommy," he said, sitting up again.
"You like mama better 'an me?" he said in a high pitch, as if taking exception.
Isaac grinned wide and shrugged his shoulders up tight, holding both little palms upturned. "When you're not here, I like Mama better. When you're here, I like you better," he mumbled fast with a bubbling giggle.
He laughed. "I guess I'll take that."
"No, no! I like you both the same. Really!" Isaac's eyes suddenly went wide, and he sat up straight, holding the top of his head. "Don't tell mama! She'll scobb my noggin!"
"What?" Arthur wheezed a laugh. "What the hell's that?"
Isaac gasped and reached out both hands to cover Arthur's mouth. "Don't say that, Arthur! Don't say that!" he giggled, shaking his head slowly. "Scobb—I'll show you…" he said with a wry look. "It's when you do…this!" he shouted, reaching up, knocking his hat off, and scraping the knuckles of his fist back and forth across the top of his head and messing his hair.
"All right, all right, I get it," Arthur chuckled amidst the sounds of Isaac's tinkling laughter. "Hey, I got somethin' for ya. Somethin' sweet," he said with a wink as he reached into his pocket.
Isaac sat up straight. "What kind?! Sassafras, or horehound?"
"What you think…?" he eyed him, the crinkling sound of the candy's paper filling their ears.
Isaac's mouth slowly drew up in a knowing grin, and he looked up at him with a glimmer in his eye. "Sassafras!"
He smiled bright as he pulled the bag of hard candy out. "Sassafras, you got it."
"Gimme, gimme!" Isaac said, bouncing on his father's thigh and reaching. "Wait," he stopped short, closing his eyes and holding up a flat hand. "Don't give it to me yet. Let me show you the manners. Mama taught me the manners."
He watched as his sweet angel of a son looked up at him with one of the most authentic, sincere looks in his raindrop eyes he'd ever seen. There was no theater to it, not even the slightest hint of duplicity.
"Arthur, could I have one please?"
His heart swelled as he smiled wide. "Hey, you're pretty damn—pretty darn good at that." He handed him the sugar-dusted candy and popped one in his own mouth while Isaac cuddled up close. "You looked just like your mama when you did that. Just darn like her."
"And she says you look like me," Arthur said from where he stood watching. As he looked at his younger self, he realized they'd both just had the same thought.
He rubbed his hand gently up and down his son's back as he looked up at the rays of sunlight breaking through the leaves of the trees. "Your mama is awful good, ain't she? Awful good." He felt Isaac nod against his chest.
"Mm-hmm," Isaac sang. "Like a princess," he mumbled past the candy.
He smirked. "Yeah, I guess that's right. Like a princess."
"I think I'm gonna marry her."
"What?" he wheezed, leaning back and looking down at him. "You can't, Isaac, you can't."
"Why not?" he looked up.
"Little boys can't marry their mamas."
"Well, I love her!"
"It's a different kinda love," he shook his head with a chuckle.
"How do you know?"
He chuffed. "It just is! You don't know that kinda love yet, and I ain't about to explain it to ya. Sons just can't marry their mamas! It's not allowed. She'd be flattered, but she'd tell you the same thing."
"Well…who's gonna marry her then? She's all alone. She needs help. I think I can only help so much. Sometimes I get things wrong and make it worse. And she needs someone to love her. She needs a prince in shining armor. She needs someone to love her!"
He sighed, his eyes sagging as he rubbed the heel of his hand across his eye before raking his fingers back through his hair. "I know, kid. I know."
"I'm gonna find her a prince. You need to take your shaving stuff out and all your clothes, so I can get her a prince."
"Jesus." He looked down at him with a grimace. "She didn't ever…say that to you, did she?"
"No. It's just an idea I just had."
"Well…Isaac," he huffed. "You don't want me to come round no more? You don't wanna see me no more?"
"Nooo. That's not what I meant."
"Well. It's like you said. I'd have to move my stuff out, 'cause he wouldn't want me comin' round."
"Oh. Ok. That's not a good idea after all." He sighed and lied back against his chest again. "I don't know what to do."
"You and me both," he mumbled. "Hey," he looked down again, though Isaac didn't look up. "Why're you thinkin' about all this sh—stuff. Your daddy, and…your mama gettin' married. You're three years old!"
"Oll-most four," he squinted up at him. "I told you. Everybody in town has daddies. Every mommy in town has a husband."
He grumbled. "I oughtta tell your mama not to take you into town no more."
"No!" he sat up. "I have friends there! I like it!"
He sighed. "You are almost four, ain't ya? Birthday's comin' up."
"Yup."
"What you want for your birthday?"
"Mmm…nothing."
"Nothin'?!"
"Nothing. I just want you there. No toys, okay?"
"You might feel differently once you've got 'em in your hands."
He scrunched his nose and tried not to smile. "No…more…toys! I'm a big boy."
"Already? You're a big boy already?!" He quickly jolted to tickle him.
"No…no toys!" he laughed. He finally sat up straight and took a breath. "Just come to me, okay? Just come to me on my birthday. I want no toys, just you and me and mama." He smirked and ocked his head to the side. "And maybe pie. Maybe mama'll make me pie," he laughed. "Just come! Okaaaayy?"
"Well, I'll…I'll try, Isaac—"
"No, no, no. You gotta promise!"
"I can't." He tried not to grimace. "I can't promise."
.
In the same dream, Arthur was swept away to his son's room. Although he shouldn't have, he knew without being told that it was a few nights later, after he himself had left the ranch. It seemed to be almost like a memory he shouldn't be able to remember, because he hadn't been there.
Eliza was sitting on the edge of the bed tucking Isaac in for the night. Arthur sat in a chair on the other side of the bed and watched the scene.
"Ready to recite your memory verses for the week?" she asked softly.
Isaac nodded.
"Okay… What about First Corinthians thirteen, five?"
He bit his lip and looked up. "Love…does not behave unseemly…seeks n-not her own, is not easily provoked…thinks no evil."
Her brows rose and she smiled bright, Arthur was sure it was at the fact that he was talking.
"And what does it mean, baby?"
"It means that love isn't mean or rude," he took a breath, "it doesn't let you think about only yourself…it doesn't get mad so easy, and…it doesn't keep a tally of the wrong things you do."
"Very good, baby. And what about verse thirteen?"
"Now abides…" he began, "faith, and hope, and love…" he said slowly and evenly, "and the greatest of these is love." He looked at her with a smile. "That one's my favorite.
She smiled in return. "And what's that one mean?"
"It means that faith and hope are real real good, but we should never ever stop loving, 'cause love is the best one."
"So good. My smart boy," she smiled even brighter as she finished tucking him in.
"Mama?"
"Yes, baby," she said softly.
Arthur watched him swallow, his tense little frown signaling something was weighing heavily on the shoulders of a three, 'oll-most four' year-old. Arthur looked Eliza's way again and noted her concern. He knew she was hoping he would open up about it, thinking he already seemed a little more talkative today than usual.
Isaac opened his mouth and hesitated, but finally spoke. "Did you find me in the trash when I was a baby?"
"What?!" Eliza and Arthur let out at the same moment.
"No! Absolutely not!" Eliza said. "What on earth— Why would you think that, Isaac? Who told you that?"
He fidgeted and mumbled. "One day when we were in town, at the store, I was sitting on the bench outside with my lolli— You know how Mr. Andrews gives me a little lolli sometimes? The circle kind I like with all the colors?"
She nodded.
"Well, I was sitting on the bench outside with my lolli, and you were still inside shopping, I think. And one of the big kids, Zechariah, he came over and told me that his parents told him I don't have a daddy." He started sniffing, and his voice was high and pinched. "And he said that, if that's true, then he thinks that must mean you found me in the trash when I was a baby."
Arthur sighed and gritted his teeth. "Show me this Zechariah. I ain't ever hit a kid before, but there's a first time for everything."
"No, no, Isaac, no." She sighed. "Come here." She took him in her arms. "Children can be so cruel to each other sometimes. I don't understand it."
"Not all of them," he said. "Just some of the big kids. I have some friends. But…I was thinking maybe he wasn't being mean if it was true."
"It's not true, Isaac. You're very loved, and you always have been. You were never ever ever in the trash. Never ever!"
"But I don't have a daddy," he looked up into her eyes and sniffed. "So where did I come from?"
She swallowed. "You—" She sat him back on the bed next to her. "You came from here," she said patting her belly. "In my tummy."
"Wha…?" he bunched his face up in confusion. "That's crazy, Mama! That's silly! Nobody can fit in there!"
"You were much, much smaller," she laughed. "Itty bitty. You've seen babies."
He nodded.
"Well, you were even smaller than that. Everybody was once. Everybody was in their mama's tummy once. And you grew," she said, pulling out her hands to show how big her belly had gotten.
His eyebrows shot up. "You got fat?"
She chuckled. "Don't use that word for people, Isaac. But I guess you could sorta say that. My belly did. But it was both me and you together. Here. Like this." She took the pillow and stuffed it under her blouse. "And you were like the pillow."
"Whoa…" he said softly with a dazed look, reaching out a hand and stroking the bloused pillow. "And then I came out!"
"And then you came out," she smiled. "And you were so tiny. I didn't realize people could ever be so small. I held you like this," she motioned with her two arms cradled together. "Your bottom fit in my palm. Or I'd hold you like this with your head in my hand, the rest of your body on my arm, and your little arms and legs hangin' down. Your tiny little fingers were this big," she pinched her fingers close together. "All of you was small. Makes sense, 'cause you had to come out of me. You really were in here, Isaac," she rubbed her faux belly.
His eyes popped up to hers. "How did I get in there?"
Her smile dropped. "Well, ah…" She removed the pillow and returned it to the bed. "Let's just say your daddy put you there. Kinda. Well, both me and your daddy."
He looked down. "Arthur says I have a daddy. Says everyone does."
She nodded. "Arthur's right. That's how it happens for everyone. That's why everyone has a daddy."
"But where's mine then?" he mumbled forlornly.
She sighed again. "Isaac…" She pulled him into her lap and stroked under his chin, like she had when he was just a toddler. "Your papa, he… Your papa struggles. Do you know that word? 'Struggle?'"
He shook his head.
"It means you hurt inside," she put a hand to her chest, "and things are real hard for you. Like…things you don't wanna do, you do them. And things you wanna do, you don't do them. And sometimes you just don't know what to do at all."
Arthur took a deep breath and hung his head. She really had understood him. Quite well, as it turned out.
She sat Isaac on her knee and looked him in the eyes. "Your papa is a good man. Real good, in fact. But he does things sometimes…or, he has to do things, I don't know…that aren't right. So he struggles inside with evil. That's another word I know you don't know. It means bad. Real bad."
Isaac nodded slowly and gravely.
"But we still love him, right?" she said.
He nodded emphatically. "Right. I do love him. I love him even though I ain't ever met him yet."
"'Ain't?'" she eyed him.
He grinned and blushed as he shook his head. "I've never met him yet."
"Maybe you will someday. Maybe he'll let you know him." She slowly frowned. "He's got a good heart. Though he doesn't know it. I've told him many times. He was so easy to fall in love with. But not quite so easy to keep loving. People told me not to love him. He even told me himself not to love him."
"Why?"
"Well, he…he left, Isaac," her brows drew up. "And he keeps— Well, he…he's not around. It's not…very nice of a person to do. But he really believes he can't be around. And maybe he truly can't, I don't know. I don't know if all the worst that he thinks could happen, would happen if he was. I really don't know," she mumbled and shrugged. "But I do love him. And I always will."
Isaac came close again and sighed as he rested his cheek against her chest. "What's he like, Mama?"
"Well…" she whispered warmly, "he's real big and tall. Like a human mountain."
"Wow…"
"His hugs are like big bear hugs. Like this," she said, suddenly scrunching him up tight to her as he laughed. "And his smile… It makes your heart go pitter-patter. I wish he'd show it more. Beautiful…that's what he is."
"I thought only ladies were beautiful!" he looked up at her. "A man can be beautiful?"
"A man can be beautiful," she nodded. "Trust me. His eyes are bright and clear as jewels. I'm sure he coulda had his pick a' the wide world. Sometimes, I…wonder how he ever made you with little ol' me."
Arthur watched her swallow and try to tug up a smirk as she said it, sticking her finger in Isaac's side, clearly hoping his cackles would wash away whatever she was feeling.
"Eliza…" Arthur moaned as he let his forehead fall into his hand and shook his head. "God, Eliza."
"What else?" Isaac smiled.
"Solid muscle. Lean and brawny. Strong and tough and rugged. Quickest draw in the west." She let her eyelids fall half-mast as she looked at him with a smirk. "He's a real-life Wild West cowboy, you know."
"Really?!" he immediately sat straight and looked at her with huge eyes.
She nodded with a bright grin. "And he wears a wide-brimmed hat." With the grin still on her lips, she took both her hands and slid them around her head like she had a hat on and was tipping the front brim over her eyes.
His mouth was open in amazement, and the corners of his mouth were pulling up even higher as he watched her. He suddenly stopped and sat stock still, his brows coming together as he cocked his head. "That sounds like Arthur."
She tried not to grin and lifted her chin with a tilt of her head. "It does, doesn't it?" She watched his eyes flutter and move as the wheels turned in his head.
He took a while, the cogs of his mind grinding and spinning together. "It can't be Arthur," he finally said. "Arthur don't—doesn't struggle with evil. So it can't be him."
Eliza swallowed.
"But I sure wish it could be him. He's my favorite person besides you, Mama. You're both my favorite."
"Mmmm…" she smiled, brushing her nose softly back and forth across his.
He looked up into her eyes. "I know you love my daddy, Mama, but don't you like Arthur? If my daddy can't come to us, you should marry Arthur and make him my daddy."
Her eyes sagged, and she frowned deeply. "I wish I could marry Arthur, dear. Oh, how I wish I could. But you know Arthur has to go away for a long time over and over again. How could I be married to someone who isn't ever there?"
Isaac slowly frowned and hung his head.
"'Sides," she dipped her chin, "I think Arthur thinks that if he ever did marry, it should be to somebody prettier than me."
Isaac's head popped up at her, and he smiled. "Noooo!"
She looked up at the ceiling and tried for a playful tone and grin. "Don't you think Arthur should marry somebody prettier…"
"No!" Isaac giggled.
"And funnier…"
"No." He pushed her in the arm a little.
"And smarter…"
"No!" He suddenly burst into tears and sobbed, raising his little fists to his eyes. "Don't say that! Don't say that, Mama!"
"Oh, Isaac!" she immediately caught her breath and frowned. "I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said that to you. It wasn't fair of me. Don't cry for me, baby. Please don't cry!"
"Don't say that! I don't like that. Don't say that, Mama," he whined. "You're my favorite person. You're my person."
She quickly took him into her arms and held him to her shoulder, bringing a hand to the back of his head and rocking gently. "You got such a big heart, Isaac. Such a big heart. Always have. You know, when you were in my tummy I prayed God would give you a big, tender heart. And that's what he did."
She swallowed and shook her head, her chin trembling. "Don't worry about what I said, baby. The truth is, my love is just…it's not enough for Arthur. It's not enough."
He sniffed as he pulled back and looked down, grumbling and whining, frowning sorely. "I don't know what to do. You need somebody to love you, Mama."
Her brows drew up, but she slowly smiled. "I got you, baby," she touched a finger to his nose. "I got you to love me."
She tucked her finger under his chin and brought his head up so his round doe eyes met hers. She sniffed and swallowed. "Your daddy left you for me so you would love me." She brought her thumb up and stroked his cheek back and forth. "You ain't gonna let him down, are you?"
With a growing wry smile, he scrunched up his nose and brought a finger up beside his face to point at her.
"'Ain't!'" she threw up her other hand and let it drop.
He laughed and threw his little arms around her. "'Course I love you, Mama."
She brought a hand to his back and closed her eyes as his arms tightened snugly around her neck. "Mmm…I love you so much, Isaac." As he drew back, she asked, "You know how much I love you, don't you, baby?"
He immediately scrunched up his shoulders and smiled a tight little smile, shaking his head.
"See that bright moon?" she pointed through the window. "All the way up to it, around it, and back down again."
He giggled and lied down against the pillow. "That's a lot of love."
"That's right. That's a lot of love," she smiled as she tucked him back into his blankets, kissing him on the forehead. "Sweet dreams, my sweet baby."
Arthur watched her head for the door, turning out the lamp light on her way. But when she reached the threshold, she paused in the darkness and brought a hand to her mouth. Arthur heard her take in a shaky breath and begin to quietly cry, and he watched her turn back and look at Isaac where he lay.
She walked back to the bed and bent to whisper to him. "Is it okay if I sleep in here with you tonight, baby? Would you let mommy sleep in bed with you?"
He groggily nodded and scooted over, lifting the covers with one of his little arms.
Arthur hung his head but kept his eyes on her as she slowly crawled in, keeping her sobs back. She brushed a hand through the goldenrod hair at his forehead and watched him drift off to sleep.
"It hurts," she sniffed after a while had passed. "The love is too big for my heart, baby," she whispered ever so quietly, her voice breaking. Her eyes grew when a little whisper arose through the dark:
"Mama…" He reached out a small hand and touched her face. "No love could be too big for your heart."
Arthur swallowed hard past the painful lump in his throat. He got up and walked straight out of the house onto the front porch. He turned and tried to give the railing boards a good solid kick, but his foot went right through it. He finally balled up his fist, bent at the waist, and screamed into the darkness of night.
When he opened his eyes to see a similar darkness around him and heard a ragged shout coming through his scratchy throat, he had to remind himself that he was awake now, and that the other had been the dream.
.
Dear Readers who have carried over from "Disaster Road" and/or "Only Fools Hold onto Hope,"
Thank you and I'm so excited you're here! This work has morphed a few times, but I'm really looking forward to it. In many portions, it's more on the surreal side than anything I've done before. But we're on this ride together. I'll do my best to make everything clear, but if at any time there's something you have a question about, please please don't hesitate to ask.
Love to you all!
- Rosie