TITLE: THE REPLACEMENT
AUTHOR: MINN
DISCLAIMER: I don't own nothin' - mores the pity - just playing. No character was really harmed during the typing of this nonsense. The creators of Third Watch are, of course, gods. (But if you ever do get stuck for ideas guys, gimme a call...HAH!)
CHEERS! to all the kind folks who said such nice things about my maiden outing "Grace". Just remember, if you encourage me, you'll NEVER get rid of me...
EXPLAINATION: This wasn't HALF as much fun to write as Grace was, so don't feel too bad if you find yourself not liking it. Consider this as back-story - the journey to Grace, if you like. But be patient. Nothing in the Minn-verse ever happens quickly...
*********
PART FIVE
The sun felt good on her skin.
Though it was cold, she was sheltered from the more chilling effects of the wind by the broad sweep of the brick wall she sat in front of. It helped that Manny had bundled her in as many coats as he could find, topped it all with a fairly unattractive woolly hat and provided her with a warm blanket to place across her knees.
She watched as Manny emerged from the steps that led down into their basement hideaway and approached her with two steaming mugs, one in each hand. He sat himself down on the chair beside her.
"You look better already," he smiled, handing her one of the mugs. "Instant soup - not flash, but warming."
She accepted it gratefully, warming her hands on the mug.
"It's nice to see the sun," she said, lifting her face skyward.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked.
She brought the mug to her lips and sipped at the contents.
"More memories?"
She frowned. What she'd experienced last night didn't have the same quality as the scattering of memories that were edging back into her conscious awareness. Last night had more the quality of a fantasy - but what a fantasy. She shivered as she relived the memory of his touch lingering sweetly on her body.
"I'm not sure," she answered. "Let me put it this way, I really hope that it was a memory."
"Pleasant was it?"
"Yeah. Real pleasant." Exquisitely so. Surprisingly so. But why surprising?
"The mind is a funny thing, Marti," Manny said gently. "Don't push yourself too hard. It's early days yet, and your body is still healing."
She turned and smiled at him. Manny's gentle ways and thoughtful wisdom had endeared the old schoolteacher to her over the weeks that had passed.
As for the group of which she found herself a part, it was like a co-operative. In the ramshackle neighbourhood in which they lived, Manny and the others were well known and for the most part, respected, or so Lockey had told her. Lockey though, had a way about him that made her...suspicious, like he was being a bit fast and loose with the truth.
"Too often people in our society are discarded, written off, institutionalised if they don't fit a narrow band of what it is to be normal," Manny had lamented in one memorable chat they had shared. "There is no dignity in being left to rot in a home."
"Living in a basement is dignity?" she'd said.
"It's freedom, Marti. Freedom to contribute. That's where the dignity lies. In an institution they don't want contribution - they want conformity. Do as you are told, when you are told, how you are told. Every decision, every move is dictated to you by the will of another. What you feel, what you think is irrelevant. Here, with what we've created, we have a chance to still be useful and contributing members of society. We don't accept charity. We offer something in return for the goodness and kindness people show us."
Every member of the group had a job she had discovered, whether it was searching for firewood, or helping to work the community gardens in exchange for a hot meal, or any number of things they all appeared more than willing to turn their hands to. Under Manny's careful guidance the group functioned like a well oiled machine, each member having something to contribute to the whole. From what she could gather from Manny, she was, or had been, his right hand man come apprentice.
The sound of shrill laughter attracted her attention. She turned her gaze to a group of children playing on the waste ground near the river. As she watched them images began to flit through her mind. At first they were pleasant and had something to do with children and a family life of some kind. But then the images darkened. She was fighting with someone.
Manny noticed her preoccupied silence. "Marti?"
"I have children," she murmured. "Two children."
Manny was silent for a moment.
"Do you know their names?"
She focused, chasing each image around and around in her head. But no names were forthcoming. "No." The disappointment in her voice was clear.
Manny placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It'll come, Marti," he murmured. "Just give it time."
"Do you have children Manny?" she asked after a while.
Manny nodded.
"Do you keep in touch?"
He shook his head. "I haven't spoken to my son or daughter in over six years," he said softly.
She looked surprised. "What'd they do?"
Manny exhaled heavily and stared at the children still playing on the waste ground. "All she wanted was to die with her mind intact."
She watched him carefully, aware that he was clearly uncomfortable with the subject. "You don't have to tell me if you'd rather not."
He looked at her, a look of warmth and affection in his eyes. "I think it's time I shared this with someone," he said softly.
Clearing his throat Manny fixed his gaze on the river and the distance beyond. "Helen and I were together thirty five years - she was my second wife. My first marriage lasted twenty years before we finally figured it out that we were no longer on the same page, so to speak. It was never like that with Helen. We were similar, yet we were different from each other - like polar opposites. But we had things in common, and that was a large part of it I think. We were both teachers, we both loved books and our spiritual beliefs were very similar. Helen believed, like me, that a persons spirit should not be trapped in a useless body."
Manny paused. "But the children." He shook his head. "They couldn't understand why Helen didn't want to put herself through all the pain and discomfort of the treatment for her condition, especially when the expectation of a full recovery was as low as it was." He turned to her. "Aggressive form of cancer," he said simply.
She nodded.
"Helen just wanted to pass quietly away at home with me caring for her - and I was willing to do it too. But the children. They wanted her to try every new operation and drug there was going. I mean, I understand all they wanted was to see their mother well again...but I don't think they realised Helen had already decided she wanted to quit this life and move on."
"You believe in an after life?"
"Reincarnation." Manny smiled at the look on her face. "No, the children didn't get it either."
He cleared his throat once more and reached for a handkerchief concealed somewhere in the depths of one of his pockets. "Helen could never say no to those kids - it was her one major weakness. She adored them, and they adored her...so she gave in and went for the operation."
Manny lifted the handkerchief to his eyes and dabbed at them. "They thought it had gone well at first, but then she began to have strokes. Just little ones at first. But each one took away another piece of Helen, another piece of her dignity. In the end I had to put her in a home - I simply wasn't able to cope with the level of care she required. At the end there I could barely recognise her - and I'm sure she had absolutely no idea who I was. After 35 years together..." His voice trailed off and the tears were coming fast. "I know they didn't set out to hurt us Marti, but I simply can't find it in my heart to forgive them."
She put the mug down at her feet and leaned over to him, slipping a comforting arm across his shoulders as he cried.
*********** TBC
AUTHOR: MINN
DISCLAIMER: I don't own nothin' - mores the pity - just playing. No character was really harmed during the typing of this nonsense. The creators of Third Watch are, of course, gods. (But if you ever do get stuck for ideas guys, gimme a call...HAH!)
CHEERS! to all the kind folks who said such nice things about my maiden outing "Grace". Just remember, if you encourage me, you'll NEVER get rid of me...
EXPLAINATION: This wasn't HALF as much fun to write as Grace was, so don't feel too bad if you find yourself not liking it. Consider this as back-story - the journey to Grace, if you like. But be patient. Nothing in the Minn-verse ever happens quickly...
*********
PART FIVE
The sun felt good on her skin.
Though it was cold, she was sheltered from the more chilling effects of the wind by the broad sweep of the brick wall she sat in front of. It helped that Manny had bundled her in as many coats as he could find, topped it all with a fairly unattractive woolly hat and provided her with a warm blanket to place across her knees.
She watched as Manny emerged from the steps that led down into their basement hideaway and approached her with two steaming mugs, one in each hand. He sat himself down on the chair beside her.
"You look better already," he smiled, handing her one of the mugs. "Instant soup - not flash, but warming."
She accepted it gratefully, warming her hands on the mug.
"It's nice to see the sun," she said, lifting her face skyward.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked.
She brought the mug to her lips and sipped at the contents.
"More memories?"
She frowned. What she'd experienced last night didn't have the same quality as the scattering of memories that were edging back into her conscious awareness. Last night had more the quality of a fantasy - but what a fantasy. She shivered as she relived the memory of his touch lingering sweetly on her body.
"I'm not sure," she answered. "Let me put it this way, I really hope that it was a memory."
"Pleasant was it?"
"Yeah. Real pleasant." Exquisitely so. Surprisingly so. But why surprising?
"The mind is a funny thing, Marti," Manny said gently. "Don't push yourself too hard. It's early days yet, and your body is still healing."
She turned and smiled at him. Manny's gentle ways and thoughtful wisdom had endeared the old schoolteacher to her over the weeks that had passed.
As for the group of which she found herself a part, it was like a co-operative. In the ramshackle neighbourhood in which they lived, Manny and the others were well known and for the most part, respected, or so Lockey had told her. Lockey though, had a way about him that made her...suspicious, like he was being a bit fast and loose with the truth.
"Too often people in our society are discarded, written off, institutionalised if they don't fit a narrow band of what it is to be normal," Manny had lamented in one memorable chat they had shared. "There is no dignity in being left to rot in a home."
"Living in a basement is dignity?" she'd said.
"It's freedom, Marti. Freedom to contribute. That's where the dignity lies. In an institution they don't want contribution - they want conformity. Do as you are told, when you are told, how you are told. Every decision, every move is dictated to you by the will of another. What you feel, what you think is irrelevant. Here, with what we've created, we have a chance to still be useful and contributing members of society. We don't accept charity. We offer something in return for the goodness and kindness people show us."
Every member of the group had a job she had discovered, whether it was searching for firewood, or helping to work the community gardens in exchange for a hot meal, or any number of things they all appeared more than willing to turn their hands to. Under Manny's careful guidance the group functioned like a well oiled machine, each member having something to contribute to the whole. From what she could gather from Manny, she was, or had been, his right hand man come apprentice.
The sound of shrill laughter attracted her attention. She turned her gaze to a group of children playing on the waste ground near the river. As she watched them images began to flit through her mind. At first they were pleasant and had something to do with children and a family life of some kind. But then the images darkened. She was fighting with someone.
Manny noticed her preoccupied silence. "Marti?"
"I have children," she murmured. "Two children."
Manny was silent for a moment.
"Do you know their names?"
She focused, chasing each image around and around in her head. But no names were forthcoming. "No." The disappointment in her voice was clear.
Manny placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It'll come, Marti," he murmured. "Just give it time."
"Do you have children Manny?" she asked after a while.
Manny nodded.
"Do you keep in touch?"
He shook his head. "I haven't spoken to my son or daughter in over six years," he said softly.
She looked surprised. "What'd they do?"
Manny exhaled heavily and stared at the children still playing on the waste ground. "All she wanted was to die with her mind intact."
She watched him carefully, aware that he was clearly uncomfortable with the subject. "You don't have to tell me if you'd rather not."
He looked at her, a look of warmth and affection in his eyes. "I think it's time I shared this with someone," he said softly.
Clearing his throat Manny fixed his gaze on the river and the distance beyond. "Helen and I were together thirty five years - she was my second wife. My first marriage lasted twenty years before we finally figured it out that we were no longer on the same page, so to speak. It was never like that with Helen. We were similar, yet we were different from each other - like polar opposites. But we had things in common, and that was a large part of it I think. We were both teachers, we both loved books and our spiritual beliefs were very similar. Helen believed, like me, that a persons spirit should not be trapped in a useless body."
Manny paused. "But the children." He shook his head. "They couldn't understand why Helen didn't want to put herself through all the pain and discomfort of the treatment for her condition, especially when the expectation of a full recovery was as low as it was." He turned to her. "Aggressive form of cancer," he said simply.
She nodded.
"Helen just wanted to pass quietly away at home with me caring for her - and I was willing to do it too. But the children. They wanted her to try every new operation and drug there was going. I mean, I understand all they wanted was to see their mother well again...but I don't think they realised Helen had already decided she wanted to quit this life and move on."
"You believe in an after life?"
"Reincarnation." Manny smiled at the look on her face. "No, the children didn't get it either."
He cleared his throat once more and reached for a handkerchief concealed somewhere in the depths of one of his pockets. "Helen could never say no to those kids - it was her one major weakness. She adored them, and they adored her...so she gave in and went for the operation."
Manny lifted the handkerchief to his eyes and dabbed at them. "They thought it had gone well at first, but then she began to have strokes. Just little ones at first. But each one took away another piece of Helen, another piece of her dignity. In the end I had to put her in a home - I simply wasn't able to cope with the level of care she required. At the end there I could barely recognise her - and I'm sure she had absolutely no idea who I was. After 35 years together..." His voice trailed off and the tears were coming fast. "I know they didn't set out to hurt us Marti, but I simply can't find it in my heart to forgive them."
She put the mug down at her feet and leaned over to him, slipping a comforting arm across his shoulders as he cried.
*********** TBC