Recovering Life by Sherrie Theriault

Author:Sherrie Theriault [Theriault, Sherrie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2016-11-28T00:00:00+00:00

Out the window I can see Butzy and Esperanza talking, but through the glass hear inaudible rumbles and occasional chuckles. She seems relieved to have come home to him at last—to Butzy, a man with a constant goat entourage, fur covered faces nosing into the pockets of his smock.

*** Samson in bed with us makes a tight fit night after night and I wake stiff and displaced. Why he feels the need to sleep between us I don’t know. I don’t have the heart to lock him out of our room and can’t persuade him to move to the foot of the bed. Esperanza’s solution is to buy a larger bed, but I’ve measured and the only room that would hold a larger bed is the living room.

Today Esperanza is at work for the morning and I am planning my initial drift through the house when I hear a knock and the door swinging open. I hear Butzy fighting back the goats who long to follow him in to play with Samson. Once in, he takes my hand and looks into my eyes. “I think you need to take a ride with me,” he says.

“Where shall we go?” I ask. “Ah, let it be a surprise; I could never explain it in advance, Sweet Mazie, so please just come with me.”

I rise up, my hand in his and let him lead me from the house.

“Should we leave a note?” I ask as we move toward his car.

“I did,” he says putting me in my seat and driving away.

Within a few turns we are in a cemetery; a lush green place with plants and headstones. Butzy navigates the narrow roads and stops in front of a granite bench, on the edge is carved the name, Helen.

“I come here when I miss her. It’s a good place to talk and catch up. I see you wandering through the house and you seem lonely for her. I thought maybe some time here would help,” says Butzy and I begin to cry.

“My God, Butzy, I miss her every day. How, how can I miss her? I don’t even know her?” I plead.

“I don’t know how, but I see that you do. I see it in you like looking in a mirror. Like looking at Esperanza, like sober souls know. Who knows? We just know each other and I know this about you. Now I’m going to leave you here and have a walk around this beautiful place and you can talk to my sister or just sit here and listen. I have found she has plenty to say when she needs to and Helen’s a great listener when I need to talk. If you are ready to leave before I make it back just holler and I will be back directly and we can go home,” he says and leads me from car to bench and walks off. I scooch to the end of the bench, lean over, rest my head on my arm and lay there curled and content.

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