Smoke Signals

I have no hands.

         That realization, more than any other, confirmed my fear that something was not on the straight and narrow.  But, as to where I was, I had not a clue.  My surroundings were totally unfamiliar: a room that seemed to be without boundaries, color, or any other objects.  Though I knew it would do no good, I decided to pronounce my question: “Where am I?”
         “You’re wherever you think you are.”  A stocky, balding man with brown hair remaining only at the very back of his head walked into my field of view.  He did not extend his hand nor offer greetings; rather, he pulled both a lighter and a cigar out of his pocket, lit the cigar, and then placed it in his mouth.  Then, when that process was complete, he rolled the cigar to one corner of his jaw and clasped me on the shoulder.
         “’Name’s Joe.”  Puffs of aromatic smoke descended from the cigar, surrounding my nose and tickling it to death.  I was very sensitive to smoke, and my body voiced its surrender with a hacking cough.  I wiped my nose on my sleeve before speaking.
         “You know, you really shouldn’t do that.  Smoking’s really bad for you.”  To my surprise, Joe shrugged his soldiers and took the cigar out of his mouth, twirling it around as if it were a mad paint brush dancing on canvas. 
         “Can’t hurt me here.” 
         I had seen in many people a fervent denial of the harmful effects of smoking; it was as if they had told themselves the lie so many times that it became a twisted reality in the confines of their mind.  But, this man admitted to its lethal qualities and even went so far as to say he was immune to them.  I shook my head in disbelief; could he actually believe what he was saying?  I opened my mouth to share my thoughts, but his outstretched hand stopped me before words had been formed. 
         “Save it.  I’ve heard this lesson time and time again, and it’s time I taught you something.  I know where I am; you obviously don’t.  Now, here in—“ His sentence was cut off by the sharp ringing of his watch’s built-in-alarm.  He glanced down at it before looking me straight in the eye and smiling.  “Look—I’ve got to run.  Catch you some other time, okay?”  He turned around and began walking away.  I tried to stammer out words, questions—there was so much to learn!—but he spoke softly, almost inaudibly.  “Hush.”  The tone of voice didn’t fit the stereotypical, crusty image I had drawn of Joe; it seemed as if he actually cared about me!  Could that be?  I found my tongue silenced by this mysterious force of will, and as Joe’s walking figure began to leave the corner of my vision, I was sure I saw him throw his cigar onto the ground, only to have it vanish mid-flight…

*

         I could faintly hear an obnoxious beep-beep-beep being emitted from some object, but I could not place its exact location.  My eyes were too foggy, and my mind was filled with cobwebs.
Nonetheless, I groped around aimlessly in an attempt to find the source of the noise.  My fingers landed on something solid and began flailing around until the clamor ceased.  Now, I was bathed in silence.    Slowly, I began to regain my senses.  I could faintly make out the object directly in front of me.  It was round, colored a mix of white and gray, and gave off a soft, soothing tick-tock.  Then, I could hear outside noises: birds chirping and chatting amongst themselves, squirrels playing hide and go seek.  Everything was so peaceful, so calm.  I wish it would stay that way.  I could just lie here, immune to the troubles of the world.  Sadly, that was not the way it was to be.  I was blasted out of my reverie with a sharp knock on my door.  “Peter!  Time to get up!” 
         I groaned, followed by a quick sigh.  Life was not getting any easier for me.  In fact, it just seemed to be getting progressively worse as the years went by.  In my freshman year of high school, I had done really well.  I was prepared for the transition from middle school to high school; I know I had to come out of the gates running.  My teachers were very impressed with my grades and academic abilities, so they suggested I sign up for more difficult classes next year.  Flattered, I agreed.  Then, disaster struck. 
         Four months ago, my father was in a major car accident.  He was driving home from work when a deer ran in front of him.  He managed to slam on the brakes, but his tires could not find traction on the icy, slippery roads, and he slammed into a telephone pole.  Thankfully, his vehicle was equipped with an on-board service similar to On-Star.  The force of impact was great enough for it to trigger its “accident awareness.”  The report raced through to the police and the Emergency Medical Services, who quickly arrived on the scene. 
         Later that night, with both my mother and I anxiously waiting in the hospital lobby, a weary-eyed doctor arrived.  He took his glasses off, placed them in his shirt’s breast pocket, and took a deep breath.  He solemnly intoned: “Your husband, father, will live.”  A huge weight disappeared from my chest.  I hugged my mom, tightly gripping her, wrapping her in a happiness that only we could understand. 
                   “He’s lucky to be alive; however, he’ll probably never walk again.”  That was a cheap shot.  It was a blow to my undefended stomach.  It hammered home, leaving me speechless, without air to breath, without anything.  The whole world spiraled around me.  How could it be?  Now those games of catch, of father-son football, were gone.  Forever.  In one fell swoop, I had been cheated of some of life’s greatest joys. 
                   With this new responsibility, my time began to be consumed by caring for my father.  If he wanted to get somewhere, he usually needed one of us to push him there.  Consequently, my grades began to slip, and teachers began doubting whether I was really ready for the difficult classes I had slated for myself.  Just day-to-day life became a mess all because of one day.  In that brief span of time, the fate of three people was decided.

*

         “Can someone give me the name of one of the four khanates of the Mongol empire?” asked my World History teacher, Mr. Brown.  My hand immediately shot up.  I knew this!  But, he called on someone across the room.
          “Golden Horde,” she exclaimed confidently.
         “All right, good, very good.  How about the other three?  David, do you know?” 
         “The…Ilkhanate of Persia.”  He said it more like a question than a statement, but it was right nonetheless.  There were still two more to go; if I was lucky, I would get the easier one.  Mr. Brown circled the room, then pointed at me.  Yes!  I began to speak, but the person in front of me cut me off.     
         “Khanate of the Great Khan.” 
         “Yes, that’s correct, but that question was meant for Peter.  So, Peter, can you name the last one?”  I froze up.  This was the hardest one to remember, and just my luck I got stuck with it.  What could I do?  I hadn’t the faintest clue what the answer was. 
         “I don’t know,” I whispered.  Echoes of poorly stifled laughter came from behind me, in front of me, all around me.
         “It’s the Khanate of Chagatai.  Good try, though.  All right, that ends today’s class.  Be ready for the test on Wednesday,” Mr. Brown said before going to sit down at his desk.  Conversation among students erupted, but of course I was excluded.  I decided to stare out the window and watch the world fly by.  Something caught my attention:  a man, perhaps medium height and with a fair amount of bulk.  I got up out of my seat and went to the window closest to the sidewalk to try to get a better look.  I strained my eyes, trying to pick out details, but I couldn’t get a good look at him.  Then, I saw gray, translucent, nearly impossible to notice.  But it was there.  I was certain of that.  It felt as if I had seen him before, but I couldn’t place a name with his features.  Then, my heart fluttered.  His description matched the man named Joe…but Joe didn’t really exist, did he?  In fact, I had difficulty remembering when I had seen Joe and who he was.  But, my gut was telling me that this…stranger…was of interest, of great importance.  I couldn’t call to him.  But, if I left school grounds, that would be the same as cutting class!  Or, I could stay in class and let it go.  I sighed before  walking to where Mr. Brown was busily grading papers. 
         “Yes?” he said without looking up.
         “Is it okay if I go to the bathroom?” I asked.
         “Sure, that’s fine.  Just remember to sign out,” he answered, still without looking up or having any real interest in the matter.  I took a pencil out of my pocket and filled in the appropriate fields for signing out. 
         Out in the hallway, I moved casually.  There was no need for anyone to be suspicious of my actions; after all, I had signed out.  I continued to progress down the hallway until I came upon a door leading to the outside.  If I left now, I would certainly be seen by someone.  The bathroom was just a few steps away, so I walked into the lavatory and casually moved into one of the stalls.  I checked my watch; the bell would ring in about three minutes.  When only thirty seconds remained, I crept out of the restroom and placed myself beside the door separating the school from the rest of the world.  Ten seconds.  It was now or never.  Silently, I opened the door just wide enough for my skinny frame to slide through.  From the overhead window, I heard the ringing of the bell.  Now’s my chance!  I was sure students would be too busy filing out of their respective classrooms to notice me crossing the street. 
         I took off, legs running at full speed.  Joe had a large lead on me, and I didn’t want to lose him.  Otherwise, the whole operation would be for naught.  I could see his outline a block or so ahead, but he rounded a corner and was lost to my line of sight.  I slowed down at that same turn, quickly looking to both the left and right to see where he might be.  Much to my chagrin, he was not in view.  I sighed, defeated.  Now I would have to face the punishment for cutting class with nothing to show for it.  I began the trek back to my high school, head held low and failure heavy in my heart.  My nostrils tensed, twitched.  Then, I sneezed.  When I came back up, I was grinning, ear-to-ear, every tooth showing.  The hunt was on.  Wherever there was smoke, Joe was certain to be.  Following this plan, I moved left, then right, and finally left again until I came upon a shabby dwelling.  The yellow paint was beginning to chip, and the lawn, though a lush green, was creeping up to tickle the sides of the house.  This was it.  I stepped on the pathway leading to the front door, heart pounding so rapidly that I was sure the neighbors could hear it.  Do I really want to do this?  What if it’s not Joe?  Doubt circled around me, nagging at me with undiscovered fears.  I pushed them aside and took a leap of faith.  The doorbell echoed throughout the house. 
         I could hear the big man coming.  Then, he stopped, peered out the window, and finally opened the door. 
         “Hello?” the man asked, a little unsure of who I was.
         I stuttered, too nervous to form true words. 
         “Is there something I can help you with?”
         “Uhh…yeah…are you Joe?”
         “Yes I am.”  For a second, I had lost all hope.  He didn’t recognize me.  But, realization dawned on him.  “Peter!” he cried.  “Come on in!  I’m so glad to see you; it’s been ages, hasn’t it?” 
         I bobbed my head up and down; it truly had been a long time, seeing as I couldn’t really recognize him. 
         He welcomed me into his home, offering me something to drink, which I declined.  Joe grabbed himself a cup of coffee before pulling up two chairs. 
         “So, how’re you doing?” he asked. 
         I shrugged noncommittally.  “Same old, same old.”
         Joe nodded his head.  “I understand. ”
         “Yeah,” I replied absently, staring out the window. 
         “School’s going all right?” he inquired.
         I drew breath.  “Well…not really.  Ever since my dad got in a car accident, my grades have been in a tailspin.”
         “That’s a shame.  Y’know, the one thing I learned that I think is most important is the value of education.  The cost of ignorance is incredible.  I really, really wish that I had gone to college, gotten a real job, just like my brother.” 
         Around me, I noticed piles and piles of boxes.  “You moving out?”
         “Nah, just moving in.  Used to live in New York, but I decided to move back to my hometown.”
         A silence fell upon his house, deep and broken only by the ticking of a grandfather clock.  Joe slowly drank his coffee, not bothering the peace with speech. 
         “So…you hungry?”
         “What…oh, yeah, sure.”  Joe’s remark had caught me by surprise, so I answered out of reflex.  To be honest, I wasn’t hungry, but I decided it didn’t matter all that much. 
Joe showed me into his kitchen; there was a table designed for one person to sit comfortably, but there was room for two.  From his cupboard Joe pulled out two bowls and two spoons. 
         “You like soup?” he asked.
         “Ah-huh.”  I wasn’t a big fan of soup, but I would eat it anyway.  Plus, I didn’t want to offend my gracious host. 
         We ate the lukewarm, rubbery chicken noodle soup in total, complete quiet, neither person spending energy on conversation. 
         After cleaning up from our lunch, Joe looked at the time.  “Well, I better be getting you home.  Folks’ll probably worry.”
         “Yeah.” 
         We packed into Joe’s car; it was a little beat-up, but it ran just fine.  I didn’t need to give him directions; he obviously knew where he was going.  We talked a bit on the ride home, about family, about school, about life in general.  Just two guys enjoying one another’s company.  I would have loved to have gotten to know him better.  But, there would be a time and place for that once I got my life sorted out.  First things first. 
He pulled up right beside the curb, but to my surprise he turned the engine off.
         “Mind if I come in and say hello to your parents?”
         “Doesn’t matter to me.”  I knew my mom was home today taking care of dad, and both of them would probably want to meet the person who was taking me home. 
         My mother opened the door, both worry and relief on her face.  “Peter!  The school called.  They said something about you skipping class—” 
         “Don’t worry Mom.  It’ll be okay.” 
         “Peter, this is not a joking matter.  It’s very serious.  Where were you?” 
         I stepped aside to reveal Joe. 
         “Hello Molly.  Do you remember me?”  My mom’s mouth fell wide open; her eyes grew to be the size of dinner plates.
         She opened the door until it had traveled as far backwards as it would go, gesturing for both of us to come in.
         “Give me one second.  I’m going to get Hank.” 
         I could hear her voice shouting “Hank!” throughout the house.  She walked deep into the kitchen before she found her husband. 
         “Honestly Molly, what’s all the fuss about.  I don’t understand wha-” At that point, my mom had wheeled my dad into view of the doorway. 
         “Joe…” my dad whispered.  “I can’t believe you’re here.”
         “I can’t either,” Joe replied, equally quiet.  “It’s all thanks to your boy.” 
         My father was too shocked to say anything.  “How’d he find you?”
         Joe just shook his head.  “I don’t know.  Ask him sometime.”
         When my dad looked at me, I shook my head as well.  “I really don’t know.”
         “Bah, it doesn’t matter.  What does matter is that we’re all together as a family again.”
         Family!  This caught me by utter surprise.  I had no idea!  When my mom saw the look on my face, she asked, “Didn’t you know?”
         “Not a clue.” 
         “Joe here’s my brother,” my dad added in.  “Haven’t seen him since, well, you were born.”
         Joe clasped my father on the shoulder.  “The reason we haven’t been in touch doesn’t matter.  What does matter is that I heard about the accident, and I’ve decided to come back to help.  Y’know, see what I can do.”
            I couldn’t believe that my own Uncle Joe was living practically in my backyard.  How could I have not known that?  How could I have not known I had an Uncle Joe?  I suppose in the grand scheme of things it didn’t matter that much.  What did matter is that we were all here together and we would all weather the tempest together.  We were family, and that’s what family does for each other.