Windward Review Vol. 20 (2022): Beginnings and Endings

Sitting in his wheel chair in prison,
Donny did finally watch the video based
on Steven Hawking’s book. And then he
called. I picked up the phone to an old
familiar silence. I knew it was him, his
ragged breath, struggling on the other
end of the line.
“What is it, Donny?” I asked, trying
not to sound impatient. I really do want
him to call. Still, I’m always surprised by
my reaction when he does. Maybe I have
buckets of my own.
The outside light’s bulb was dead. That
was the kind of repair I used to depend
on Donny to do. Now the glass door
panel was like a portal, an opening onto
a dark future I couldn’t imagine, let
alone see. “Mother understands,” I said
to my son.
His last words to me were as soft
as light from a dying planet.
“Do you, mother. Do you really
understand?”
“I watched Steven Hawking today,”
he said, his voice taking on the old
familiar sound of spilled molasses. Like
he’d just been poured out of a thick
crockery jug. My Boy.
“It made me think,” he said. I
wondered what his words would sound
like filtered through a synthesizer,
thinking of the hesitant, broken metal
of Hawking’s voice. What a lucky woman
Mrs. Hawking must have been. So proud.
“What Donny, what did you think,
dear?” I tried to sound sincere, even
though I could smell a pot of leftover
pasta burning on the stove. It was bad—a
two-day soak and scrub smell. And I
confess, I felt a whiff of rage coming on.
His putting me through all that he did.
“Mom, sometimes I feel like a
tea cup on the edge of a table. Like
somebody hit the pause button. Like
time’s suspended, and I don’t know
which way to fall.”
“I understand, Donny.” If I didn’t
get to that pot, it would be a three-day
project. Where was Maya when I needed
her? It was pitch black in our yard as I
looked through the aluminum patio slider.
Beginnings X Endings
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