ࡱ> qsp Z%bjbjBrBr 4,  Z j     hjjjjjj/Jjj    hh @g"T0v<jj : BLACK LUNGS By Diane Tarantini, Second-Place Winner 2012 West Virginia Fiction Competition Im dying. The doctor said it, standing there in the hall with my x-ray films, so it must be true. Now the kids crouch beside me and talk loud, as if Im deaf. They coddle me, bring me cases of Ensure. Their whispers are like buzzing flies when they think Im asleep. The grandkids beg me to give upcigarettes. So youll live longer, Gramps. We want you with us forever. They dont know what its like to have only one comfort left in the world. Well, maybe two. My easy chair in front of the big screen TV consoles me. Sometimes. I bought it with money I won gambling. They tell me to stop that too. They probably think I'll blow their inheritance on a slot machine. ~~~ My oldest boy, his wife hired some gals not much youngern me to come and scrub a lifetime of smokemine and hersoff the windows. I tried to tell themthe kids, the galsI like it there. Sometimes I press my palm to the coolness. Write her name on the glass with my pointer finger. This grey veil came out of the mouth she kissed me with. At night when everyone else on the block is sleeping and I cant, I go room to room. Put my hands on the walls for support. I guess Im looking for her, or a trace of who she was. She used to bring me coffee in the bathroom, when I shaved. Shed perch on the commode and giggle when I dabbed her nose with shaving cream. Then shed tell me to watch as she od smoke rings out her painted-at-seven-in-the-morning mouth. The circles would float up and hang like halos over her head. Youre an angel, my angel. I told her that every day. Here in the kitchen she had me paint the color of butter, she cooked my favoritescountry ham, fried potatoes, red-eyed gravy. And pork chops. Nobody made stuffed pork chops like my Nancy. Nobody. Orange peel was the secret ingredient in her strawberry rhubarb pie. I could polish one off in a day, but she never let me. This was the room where we made love and children. Every Friday night. She never had a headache. Not once. Her tinyness fit in my hands even though Im not a big man. Saturday mornings her face would look rashyrazzed by my whiskery, over and over kisses. Id brush her cheeks with my knuckles, apologize with my eyes. I swear, she could still blush, even at seventy. Four children started out in this corner bedroom. She called the wall color Parakeet Greenlooked more like split pea soup to me. I can still smell the Lysol she used in the diaper pail. I hated that sharp scent. Seemed more angry than clean to me. If I shut my eyes and dont move, I can hear her croon, Rock-a-bye Baby to each hairless, slate-eyed child. And that one night? Crap! I hate this kind of remembering. When Nancy shook me awake, I thought her fingernails would go right through my skin. Harry! Get up! Somethings wrong! The babys not She isnt In the nursery, I gripped the crib rail and peered down. Waited for Laineys chest to rise and fall. Thought surely the blue tint to her lips and skin was moonlight, not . . . Bring her back, I told the night. Shes our only baby girl. A girl, after three boys. We couldnt believe it. Her first night home from the hospital, I had a dream. There I was in a suit, walking her down the aisle. Even asleep I could tell my eyes were misty. Because all grown up, Elaine was the spitting image of my Nancy, even wore the same persimmon-colored lipstick. That fall when the new Sears and Roebuck catalog arrived, Nancy circled every frilly dress in there. Shiny black Mary Jane shoes and lace-topped socks too. She said she couldnt wait to dress her and Lainey in matching outfits. It was the hardest thing Ive ever done, losing my little gal. I never did get to see Lainey on a Christmas morning, a dolly in her arms, her rocking it or wrapping it in a blanket. There were no early Saturday morning trips to the bank, me with my bank envelope, her with cherry sucker all over her face, a plastic piggy bank from the teller tucked under her arm. I dug the grave. Hardly biggern a bread box. I knew the guys at the cemetery. They let me go over the hill alone with a shovel, to mutilate the red West Virginia clay. I swore out loud. Took the Lords name in vain. Only once though. She never let me do it at home. After awhile, my knees hit the frozen sod. Crushed the silvered grass. I hollered at the clouds. The child was oursmine and hers. Yours too. Whyd you take her? Why? ~~~ After we buried little Elaine, Nancy got out her baptism dress almost every day. Shed press and press it. Iron and iron it. She seemed to think if she got out every last wrinkle, shed get baby Elaine back, or maybe see her again. Just one more time. But that dress was Irish linen, passed down to Nancy from her older sister. I dont know much, but I know linen is a pain in the ass to press. After the second month, it was like she forgot about it. How? How could she forget? Or maybe she gave up. Then out of the blue, sometimes Nancyd remember. Snap out of her fog. Like on the first anniversary of Laineys death. And the fifth. Other years the day would come and go without her heading for the closet, but when she went in the hospital for the last time, her obsession with the dress began all over again. First thing, Harry, shed say. When you get home, try one more time. For me. Please? So Id get it out of the closet in the baby room. Take it down to the basement and try to get it as smooth as when it left Ireland. Crazy cloth! Id get one wrinkle out and wind up with two more. There at the end though, I got it perfect. Made every single line go away. I hung it on its padded, satin hanger and laid it on the back seat of my Buick. When I showed her, her face became radiant, likelike she was already somewhere else. I felt my face collapse in on itself. Oh, no! What have I done? I jerked it from the hanger. Balled it up. Squeezed it smaller, tighter. Punched it. Maybe it wasnt too late. She tried to yell, but her voice came out sounding like a baby birds. She acted like she was going to come after me, after the dress, but she couldnt lift herself more than a couple inches. Dehydrated as she was, her tears were a flood. The doctor called that night, right after I brushed my teeth. I knew before I answered the phone. Before I left the hospital really. ~~~ Every Sunday I drive out to the graveyard. Take her daisies from the fancy new grocery store over that way. Sometimes I buy our little Elaine a sucker. I unwrap it and stick it in the ground by the bronze Beloved Child marker. The candys always gone the next time I go. The kids bought me some kind of folding chair contraption to take to the cemetery so I dont sit on the ground. My knees lock up these days if I get down low. Sometimes I do it anyway, because it feels closer. To her. To them. I dont smoke when I go see her. When she was . . . There at the end, she made me promise to stop. Its the only promise to her I didnt keep. The thing is, I want to die. The living, the young, think dyings a bad thing. Not me. Im ready right now. This very minute. So at home, I sit in my easy chair and light up, over and over. Try to smoke more today than yesterday. Newsflash, grandkids! I dont want to live forever. The way I see it, the sooner I die, the quicker Ill be with my two little gals.    ; V Z _ ] ^ b ? 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Put my hands /G//.G4-G&/%/.! T8X l pUU@Č@XYRLon the walls for support. I guess I m looking for her, or a trace of who she was. ///&=%"/"-/./!(-&""!G/.+/)./&/%%&&/=//"/&=%"TTm  pUU@Č@m YLP ) TTX?UU@Č@X(LP ,Tp?UU@Č@([LShe used to bring me coffee in the bathroom, when I shaved. She d perch on the commode and ,/&#-"&."/#./)#G&#&.%&#/#/&#/%//.G#=/&/" #"/%+&.#,/&."/&&/#./#.&#&/GG/.&#%.- TX UU@Č@X8Lgiggle when I dabbed her nose with shaving cre&WMFC\am. Then s)))&=/&/!.%./&./&./"&=."/%+/(&&%G9.&/"Tt  UU@Č@ 1Lhe d tell me to watch as she o d smoke rings out /&.&G&/=%&/$!"/&/.!G/+&/)!/- TXuUU@Č@X Ldher paintedL/&/%/&.TTuUU@Č@LP-TXuFUU@Č@LPat%TTFubUU@Č@FLP-Tlcu)UU@Č@cLXseven"&+&.TT*uFUU@Č@*LP-TXGuUU@Č@GLPin/TTuUU@Č@LP-CT`uUU@Č@LTthe/&TTu2UU@Č@LP-T3uUU@Č@3LLmorning mouth. The circles would float up and hang like halos over her head.G///)G/-/9/&&&&"=/-./%,/%/./%/)+%/%/"/+&/&/&%.TTu'UU@Č@LP ) TTXCUU@Č@XLP ,TC UU@Č@7L You re an angel, my angel. I told her that every day.)</-&%/%/)&G&%/)&)!/./&/%&+&&.%&TT C! UU@Č@ LP d) TTXxUU@Č@XaLP ,TxxUU@Č@aL\Here inF&& /TTxUU@Č@aLP T$ xUU@Č@a$Lthe kitchen she had me paint the col/& +&/&/"/& /$. G& /%/ /& &/T, YxUU@Č@ a%Lor of butter, she cooked my favorites. . /-& "/& &//+&.G& %+/%"TTZxUU@Č@ZaLP \TxUU@Č@a Lhcountry ham, &/-.& /%G TXFUU@Č@X/Ltfried potatoes, red%&./.%/&"&.TT FUU@Č@/LP-T8 FUU@Č@ /RLeyed gravy. And pork chops. Nobody made stuffed pork chops like my Nancy. Nobody. &&&.)$+&>/.//+%//."G/...&G%.&",&.//+&.//!+&G&G%/&&G/./.& TXUU@Č@XgLOrange peel was the secret ingredient in her strawberry rhubarb pie. I could polish one off in a day, bH%/)&/&&=%!/&"&&&/)&.&/./&"%=/&&/-/%./&!&/-.//!///&//$.%&/TxUU@Č@L\ut she -".% TX|7UU@Č@XLhnever let me. /&+&&G&TT8|`UU@Č@8LP e)% % 666666666666666666666666666666666666 6 66 6  6 66 6  6 66 6  6 66 6  6 66 6 66666666666666666666  c."System?????????????--@Garamond--- 2 R  cBLACK LUNGS  2 RXc  2 ^Hc 22 jcBy Diane Tarantini, Second  2 jQc-2 jUkcPlace Winner  D2 w&c2012 West Virginia Fiction Competition   2 wc  2 Hc  2 Hc @Garamond--- @Garamond-@Garamond- @Garamond--p2 HCcIm dying. The doctor said it, standing there in the hall with my x   2 ac-M2 e,cray films, so it must be true. Now the kids  2 Hmccrouch beside me and talk loud, as if Im deaf. They coddle me, bring me cases of Ensure. Their whispers are   P2 H.clike buzzing flies when they think Im asleep.  2 c  2 Hc $:2 lcThe grandkids beg me to give up  2 c .2 ccigarettes. So youll I2 _)clive longer, Gramps. We want you with us l  2 H cforever. 2 nc  2 Hc $2 lcThey do/2 cnt know what its like 2 cto y2 chave 2 c 2 conly 2 &c _2 )8cone comfort left in the world. Well, maybe two. My easy    2 1Hhcchair in front of the big screen TV consoles me. Sometimes. I bought it with money I won gambling. They    22 JHctell me to stop that too.  m2 JAcThey probably think I'll blow their inheritance on a slot machine 2 Jc.  2 Jc ---2 b&c~~~y 2 b<c ---2 {HccMy oldest boy, his wife hired some gals not much youngern me to come and scrub a lifetime of smokeT     2 {c 2 H cmine and hers 2 c C2 %coff the windows. I tried to tell them 2 .c 2 9cthe ki2 R cds, the gals 2 c @2 #cI like it there. Sometimes I press e  "2 Hcmy palm to the 2  ccoolness. V2 2cWrite her name on the glass with my pointer finger   =2 !c. This grey veil came out of the s12 Hcmouth she kissed me with.  2 c  2 Hc $y2 lIcAt night when everyone else on the block is sleeping and I cant, I go ro12 com to room. Put my hands   2 HRcon the walls for support. I guess Im looking for her, or a trace of who she was.  2 c  2 Hc $2 l[cShe used to bring me coffee in the bathroom, when I shaved. Shed perch on the commode and  _2 )H8cgiggle when I dabbed her nose with shaving cream. Then sU2 )H1ched tell me to watch as she od smoke rings out  2 AH cher painted 2 Axc-2 A{cat 2 Ac-2 Acseveni 2 Ac-2 Acin 2 Ac-2 Acthee 2 Ac-}2 ALcmorning mouth. The circles would float up and hang like halos over her head.   2 A c  2 ZHc $^2 Zl7cYoure an angel, my angel. I told her that every day.s  2 ZPc  2 sHc $2 slcHere in 2 sc A2 s$cthe kitchen she had me paint the col C2 s2%cor of butter, she cooked my favorites  2 sc 2 s ccountry ham,  (2 Hcfried potatoes, red 2 c-2 Rceyed gravy. And pork chops. Nobody made stuffed pork chops like my Nancy. Nobody.     2 HgcOrange peel was the secret ingredient in her strawberry rhubarb pie. 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