No. 133 February, 2010
L. Anne Fiore-Nicoletti grew up in The Bronx. She and her husband relocated to Saugerties in 1998. She is retired from more than twenty-five years working in an administrative capacity in the health care sector. Annie had a great imagination all of her life. She started storytelling for her two granddaughters who she refers to as The Sunshine Girls. It was Tanna and Teah who prompted her to put one of their favorite stories on paper. Since then she has written several children’s short stories and is working on her first novel. Annie enjoys writing for pleasure and hopes to some day be published. She is also the founder of the Saugerties Writer’s Club.
The Last Night of a
Midnight Blue Sky
By L. Anne Fiore
Outside the night is still while the stars shine brightly in their place on a stage of a midnight blue sky. The storm has passed over this part of the country leaving behind a heavy coat of snow that glistens in the moonlight. The fire in the fireplace is roaring and throwing off its intense heat, but not enough to comfort me. I stand with a glass of whiskey in my hand gazing out the window not seeing anything. Nothing registers in my brain, nothing except the thought of how to escape from my loneliness and the despair I feel in my heart.
I turn and walk back to my favorite chair and sit down. I sip some more of the golden fluid until I drain every drop of the elixir from the glass. It is my forth, or maybe my fifth, I really can’t remember. All I know is that the bottle of Jack that sits on the coffee table in front of me is now less than half-full. It sits next to it my unloaded gun, which is next to the unopened box of bullets.
My thoughts wander from one point in my life to another. Memories of my childhood flash around in my head and I capture one of them. It was my first crush. I was in elementary school when I saw her. What was her name? Oh, let me think. What was it? Elizabeth. Yes, yes, Elizabeth O’Rielly. I close my eyes and I am there sitting across from her in the lunchroom, trying not to stare at her as she talked with one of the other girls. Her long shiny red hair falling to her shoulders, her perfect little nose speckled with tiny little freckles, and glorious crystal blue eyes. I wonder where Lizzie is today? I wonder if she has ever found herself sitting alone on a cold winter’s night in the company of a bottle of Jack. Maybe she has, maybe many people have, but the real question is, have they had the added company of Smith & Wesson.
My thoughts now wander to my two boys. In my minds eye I watch as they play tag in the backyard. It brings a smile to my face. Lots of thoughts bring a smile to my face. There was the day I was out with my father and shot my first buck. He was so proud of me, I was proud of me. You know, I became a very able hunter. A sport that I grew to love, which is only one of my many passions. I love to play my guitar, I love to work with my hands, creating nothing out of a piece of lumber and some nails.
I think about all the fun we had as a family, the birthdays, the holidays the summer vacations and so much more. I remember my mother and how she enjoyed being in the kitchen preparing the family meals. She would say that the meals were always good, even when they weren’t, because they were made with love.
I lean forward, grab Jack and pour another three or four fingers of the gold liquid into the glass. The aroma warms the inside of my nose as I bring the glass to my lips. I don’t sip this time, I take a gulp, the liquid burning the back of my throat first and then I feel the warmth of it flowing down into my stomach. Even this senseless function that I am engaged in brings back memories, some of them happy and others much too disturbing to remember.
I glance up and focus on the wedding picture on the mantel, a picture of two young lovers smiling. I get up, walk to the fireplace and stand looking at the couple, seeing them, but not recognizing them. Who are they? Where are they? What happened to them? I take the picture in my hand and bring it closer so that I can look at their faces. Maybe by doing this I will find some clue that will tell me where they have gone. I see only eyes staring back at me with an incriminating glare. They say to me, “You, yes you, you are the one who changed the way we look. You are the one who pushed me away when I reached out to you. You were the one who shut out the world.” Holding the picture I return to my chair. The sadness wells up into my chest and I feel my tears trickle down my cheeks; the salty tears melding with the traces of whiskey on my lips.
I stay like this for several minutes the tears now accompanied by sobbing and the shuddering of my body. I ask why? I ask how? Questions that I don’t have the answers to nor will I ever have a chance to find them. I doze, I dream. In my dream my hands are moving, I’m unwrapping a present.
The house is so empty, it screams with quiet. I try to think of pleasant things. I think of all the years of fun and laughter we had as a family that are now gone. She has left and has taken with her the two little boys that loved to played tag in the backyard. She has also taken her love from me, a love that I have come to realize that I cannot survive without. The screaming wakes me and I can’t make it stop
I put the picture down next to Smith & Wesson and pour myself another Jack. Again, the tears melding with the gold liquid only this time they don’t stop on my lips they mix in with each sip I take.
It is time. I think that I am ready. I ask myself again, is it possible that anyone can really be ready to stop the pain? Yes, I answer, I am ready. I look down and see the box of unwrapped bullets lined up like soldiers, standing, ready to be called upon in a time of need. The time of need is here. Slowly, I place the bullets one by one into the chambers as the warmth from the fire comforts me. I lean back in my favorite chair and in one hand, I hold the glass and with Jack, I make a toast to the last night of a midnight blue sky.
copyright 2010, L. Anne Fiori-Nicoletti