Ballad of the Rails and Other Stories Read online

  BALLAD OF THE RAILS

  and Other Stories

  By

  S.R. Daugherty

  Copyright © 2022 S.R. Daugherty

  All rights reserved.

  Contents

  A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S MAGIC

  ALL THE DIMMING STARS

  IMPORTANT MEMO TO MY STAFF

  AND ON HER FARM SHE HAD SOME

  COMNET 2 ENTERS THE 22ND CENTURY

  THE WHITE HAWK

  THE SHAMAN’S SON

  ONE COLD NIGHT, BEYOND THE PALE

  BALLAD OF THE RAILS

  DEATH BY LOVE

  A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S MAGIC

  I tried every way I knew to make her love me.

  I sang her songs. I wrote poems for her. I bought her a floppy straw summer hat, a gift card at a spa, a potted delphinium. I took her to eat at an Ethiopian restaurant. I took her to the ballet. I even told her things that were in my heart.

  And my heart has never been that comfortable of a place for me to visit.

  *

  We met the day I delivered her cat habitat (some assembly required).

  “Are you my new UPS guy?” she said, smiling.

  “I hope I’ll do. It’s my first day. Can I carry this inside for you?”

  “I won’t say no.”

  I followed her with the box as she limped into the house, leaning on a metal cane.

  “Where do you want it?”

  “Here in the kitchen is fine. Can I get you a bottle of water? Hey, let’s have some music. Alexa, play the Andante from ‘Swan Lake.’”

  “Hey, I know that one. The Mummy, 1932, the one with Boris Karloff.”

  “Right. Great minds think alike.”

  “How did you hurt your leg?”

  “It’s post-polio syndrome.”

  My manager later let me know I’d lost twenty-six minutes on my route at that stop. I made up a story about an accident tying up traffic.

  *

  Her name was Sadie Grace. She worked from home as a nurse dispatcher. She spent her days behind a laptop, phone in hand, trying to keep three brindle cats off her keyboard.

  “My dream was always to be a professional ballerina,” she said over Thai carryout one night. “I played the Sugar Plum Fairy in a high school production of ‘The Nutcracker.’”

  “You never got the polio vaccine?”

  “We were overseas. Mother was a professor at the University of Lagos. Polio is very bad in Nigeria.”

  “That stinks.”

  “I used to read fantasy novels. You know, sorcerers and magic. I had my own fantasy, that a magician would appear on my doorstep and cure me of polio, so I could dance again.”

  I wished I were a magician that night.

  *

  Sadie Grace and I were on her sofa, kissing.

  On the coffee table were two half-empty glasses and a pitcher of caipirinhas. She opened her eyes and smiled at me. Her eyes were so luminous, her expression so … I won’t say loving, or even happy, but … how about content? Yes, definitely content.

  “I love you,” I told her. It was not an impulse. I had planned my pronouncement. She kissed my nose, straightened, reached for the pitcher. I’ve never had the greatest timing. So I said it again. “I love you.”

  “Do you want another caipirinha?”

  My heart pounded. My ears roared. I felt as though my life had arrived at a crossroads. Down one road lay happiness, but it was a way I couldn’t take without her.

  “I love you.” The third time had to be a charm. Why did my voice sound whiny? Why did I have to add, “Don’t you love me?”

  She sat down again, drink in hand, her back propped against the arm of the sofa so she could face me. She studied me at length, chewing her lip. Finally she said:

  “I love you. But I’m not in love with you. Do you understand?”

  I didn’t understand.

  “You’re funny, kind, and not that hard on the eyes. We have fun together. But—”

  Here it came.

  “—there’s no, I don’t know, no special spark. There’s no magic. It’s not your fault. Please don’t be upset. You can’t tell the heart what to feel. Cupid shot you, I guess, and missed me.”

  As a child, she had yearned for a magician to cure her of polio so she could dance again. Then she told me she wasn’t in love with me because there was no magic.

  Two dots, waiting to be connected … it took me years to connect them.

  *

  I quit UPS and moved to a different state. I drove long haul, managed a Waffle House, and sold Toyotas. I worked at Amazon, Wal Mart, and Costco. You name it, I did it.

  I was working as a photographer for a corporate investigator when, as luck would have it, a case sent me back to her town.

  I stopped in a diner and asked about her.

  “Sadie Grace, you say? Sweet little lady? Red hair? Yes, she comes in from time to time. She used to lean on a cane to get around; now she uses two, bless her heart. Yes, I think she still lives in that same house. No, I don’t think she ever married.”

  *

  I didn’t go directly to her house. I’m not sure why, but instead I drove out to the state park, east of town.

  We used to go for picnics there. There was a fall of cold foaming water down a long, straight set of carved stone steps. A sign said you had to hold on to the rail going up; going down was against the rules. You tied your shoes around your neck and rolled up your pants legs. One visit, she finally got up her courage. She squeezed the rail with one arm, and my elbow with the other. We were drenched by the time we reached the top. People smiled at us as I carried her on my back down the stairs to the parking lot.

  Today the park was deserted except for me. I made my way up the fall—it wasn’t the same climbing alone. I sat on an iron bench at the top, let my feet dry, and watched the sun set.

  That’s when a strange thing happened.

  I heard a din of honking. A flight of geese was crossing above a dark stand of trees on the other side of the park. I remember envying the geese’s freedom, the precision of their V formation, their teamwork. They didn’t live alone; they had each other. I wanted to acknowledge that. I placed my palms together, at heart center—a pose Sadie Grace and I had learned taking yoga classes together.

  The instant I did so, the formation shifted. The two wings of the V split. The geese headed back toward the bench where I sat, transfixed. They raced past overhead. Then the wings rejoined.

  I felt an unfamiliar and wonderful stillness within me. I wanted the world to feel it. I brought my palms to my heart again. I vividly remember an intentionality in my gesture. I looked at the fall of water down the stone steps. Rest a moment.

  The water became still.

  I rubbed my eyes and looked again. It was as though a long narrow pool had been somehow tilted, defying gravity. A rabbit came out of a nearby brush. Leaning out over the motionless water, it drank daintily. Something pulsed through me. A spark, an electricity, a power. Return to your natural state. The water at once resumed its burbling course. The rabbit backed, turned, disappeared into the brush.

  I tilted back my head and put my hands to heart center a third time. A spray of lights—red, green, and gold—washed across the twilit sky.

  I realized my face was wet with tears.

  *

  My heart hammered as I knocked on the door. Sadie Grace opened the door and stared at me. For a terrible moment, I thought she didn’t recognize me. Then her face split into a huge grin. She limped forward and threw her arms around me. Her canes fell clattering to the floor.

  “Listen, I should have called …” I began.

 
“Oh, don’t worry about that. It’s so wonderful to see you. How have you been?”

  I had written to her twice, maybe three times. Just short texts. What a heel. I started to flounder through an apology.

  “I’m just so happy to see you. Hey, let’s go get ice cream. Remember how we used to.”

  The Dairy Queen was still at the end of the block. A leisurely stroll for me, a strenuous one for her, even with a cane. She had called it her workout time, with an Oreo Blizzard for reward. I eyed the new, second cane doubtfully.

  “Do you mind driving?” she said. “My legs are sort of tired today.”

  *

  I carried my peanut butter malt and her banana split to a table. She sat heavily, sliding the metal canes under the table. One thing hadn’t changed: she still savored her Dairy Queen reward. She closed her eyes with each bite. No one could enjoy ice cream the way Sadie Grace did.

  “So it’s banana splits now? What happened to your Blizzard?”

  “We grow, we change,” she said. Her playful smile. “But look. They forgot to put a cherry on top.”

  The electricity ran through me. I moved my palms together. One, two, three cherries materialized atop her dessert.

  Her eyes grew very wide. She stared at the cherries, and then at me. Finally, she scooped a dollop of whipped cream with one of the cherries, and popped it in her mouth.

  “Neat trick,” she said, chewing. “I won’t ask. Hey, want to watch a movie when we go back to the house?”

  “Sure. Got some good ones in the queue?”

  “Honestly, I’ve been watching ‘The Nutcracker,’ probably more than is healthy. The Moscow Ballet is the best.”

  The childhood dream that polio had stolen. I felt a quick hot jab of tears. I felt the electricity too. I pushed my chair back and stood.

  “What are you doing?” she asked. I didn’t answer. I turned to a family sitting at the next table.

  “Would you guys mind standing, please? Just for a moment?”

  They smiled and helped me move their table and chairs. It didn’t take long to move every table in the room against the wall. All the chairs were arranged in a large square. The center of the room lay open. Every chair was taken. People waited, sipping their drinks, spooning their Blizzards, expectant, excited. Even the cashiers and cooks left their posts and joined the crowd. No one knew what was going on. Sadie Grace remained in her chair. I couldn’t see her canes; someone had moved them.

  Hands to heart center.

  “Everyone,” I announced, “I give you … the Sugar Plum Fairy.”

  Sadie Grace slowly, uncomprehendingly, got to her feet. Polite applause. A cook let loose a wolf whistle, and the crowd laughed.

  For as long as I’d known Sadie Grace, whenever she’d been sitting for a while, her right side sagged when she stood. It was as though her knee and hip were not strong enough to support her—which I suppose was the case.

  She didn’t sag this time. She looked startled. She stared down at her legs. The familiar tinkling bells of the celesta began.

  “I found it on Spotify,” a grinning girl in the crowd said, holding up her phone.

  “Take off your shoes,” somebody called out.

  “Tell me if these fit!” A young lady near me set down her cup and reached into a gym bag by her feet. She tossed Sadie Grace a pair of ballet slippers. What were the odds?

  Standing on one leg, and then the other—I could tell she was trying not to disbelieve—Sadie Grace shook off her sandals. She tugged on the slippers. She closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath. She did a slow toe raise, and then another. On the third, she rose all the way up onto her toes.

  “En pointe!” said the young lady who had given her the ballet slippers.

  The grinning girl restarted the song on her phone. The basses and violins alternated staccato notes. Sadie Grace extended one arm and raised the other. She tapped her left foot to the side, tracing an arc of taps.

  The celesta began.

  Across the room she soared. Her legs and arms matched the music note for note. She smiled radiantly. It looked effortless. We watched, speechless.

  “Triple pirouette coming,” whispered the girl.

  With a lift of the back leg, Sadie Grace launched into her spin. We erupted in cheers. Another pirouette, and then a third. The last note of the ballet played, too soon. The Dairy Queen rocked with shouts and applause as she held her final pose.

  She bowed to us, gracefully dipping her back leg. Then she broke the bow and ran to me. She threw her arms around my neck. I couldn’t hear myself think over the roaring of the crowd.

  “I love you.” I think those were the words she mouthed at me. She was laughing and crying at the same time.

  When we got back to her house, we didn’t stream the Moscow Ballet after all.

  *

  I woke up to an elbow in the ribs. Sadie Grace was looking at her phone.

  “Come on, get up,” Sadie Grace said. She pushed back the blanket aside and stretched her arms over her head. “It’s three twenty. Let’s refuel. How do bacon and eggs sound?”

  “Great.” It was a half-asleep mumble. “But you stay in bed.”

  “Oh, I suppose you’re going to cook now? Do you even know what a kitchen is?”

  “Don’t need to.”

  I roused myself. I put my hands to heart center. At once noises came from the kitchen: stovetop beeps, cabinet doors opening, silverware clinking.

  A moment later, two plates floated into the bedroom, followed by forks, knives, paper napkins, and—little afterthoughts—salt and pepper shakers.

  “Over easy, right?” I said. “And the bacon not quite burned—hey, don’t cry, your bacon won’t be crispy.”

  She wiped her eyes.

  “I don’t understand what’s happened today,” she said. “I’ve walked into some alternate world. I’m done asking questions. I’ve pinched myself so many times to see if it’s a dream, I’m black and blue.”

  “It’s no dream. I’m the magician you’ve waited for.”

  “There’s no such thing as magic. The only other possibility is that I’m hallucinating. That explains it. I’ve gone stark raving.” She took a bite of eggs and made a face. “Show me how you do it, magician. Pass the salt.”

  I placed my palms to my chest again. The salt shaker floated toward her pretty as you please—although, just before settling into her outstretched palm, did it wobble, ever so slightly?

  “So it’s just namaste?”

  “With intentionality. Of course,” I added smugly, “you have to have the touch.”

  “Oh, really?” Her playful look. “The touch, you say?”

  Hands to heart center. I faced her. I summoned greater intentionality than I ever have, before or since. Sadie Grace, fall in love with this man.

  She flinched, as though struck.

  “You’re … are you trying to command my heart?”

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her plate clattered to the floor.

  She stood, staring at her legs. Her right side sagged.

  “Alexa, play the Reed Pipes—” She trembled; her voice shook. “From ‘The Nutcracker,’ Act Two.’”

  Alexa obeyed. Sadie Grace’s leg did not. I felt the electricity draining from me. I realized my tank was low. I knew I had just enough magic left to fix her legs, if only for one last dance. Instead …

  Fall in love with this man!

  I’ve never had the greatest timing.

  “Damn it!”

  I’d never seen her so angry. I watched in horror as she lost her balance and crumpled to the floor. Then she hauled herself on all fours toward the closet, where she had stored her canes. She rose painfully and faced me.

  “We ate out together, we went to the park, we took that yoga class.” Her voice began to shake. “We got Blizzard rewards after walks. At night, you held me in your arms. And yesterday, for a few minutes, you let me be the Sugar Plum Fairy. I don’t understand why that can’t b
e enough!”

  *

  I don’t remember a lot of what happened next. I do remember getting dressed in silence. I remember Sadie Grace sitting in her dining room chair, in her bathrobe, eyes on the floor, drinking cup after cup of coffee.

  And I remember stopping at a rest area on the Interstate a few hours later. I walked around the grounds, got a souvenir map from the Welcome Center, and watched two girls throw a football. When I returned to the parking lot, I saw a car with the hood raised.

  “I’m going to try something!” A man leaned over the engine. He called to the woman behind the wheel. “Okay, try now!”

  A grinding sound; the car wouldn’t crank.

  “I think it wants to!” the woman called back. The man leaned back in.

  “Try again!”

  More grinding.

  I put my hands to my heart. Start the engine for these two, who need you now.

  The engine roared to life.

  A moment later, it died again. I felt a hollow place within me. The electricity was gone. It was as though it had never existed.

  *

  Back on the road, I found myself wondering—when I commanded her to love me, did she turn away my Cupid’s arrow by force of will?

  Or had my powers already become too weak?

  For some unknowable reason, the universe had sent me a brief moment of grace—a midsummer night’s magic. And I had squandered it away, trying to acquire something that was not for me to have.

  A few months later, I sent her a text apologizing at great length. (And, rereading it now, I have to say self-pityingly.) This is the text she sent me in response:

  No, thank you x 100. Sorry 4 tantrum! No matter what else happens will always have my sugar plum fairy night. Btw insurance called. They will pay for elec wheelchair. Will be big help. Tho i may have to widen bedroom door to get thru LOL.

  I wish that LOL had been ILY. That would have been the perfect ending. But I guess it’s not the ending I deserve.

  I still have a lot to learn about love.

  Fantasy Book, Mar. 1984. Dennis Mallonee, exec. editor. Revised August 2021.

  AUTHOR’S AFTERWORD:

  The rewrite of this story turned out to be three times as long as the original. I had to live nearly forty more years to finally get this story right. It took a lot of living and a lot of pain.