Invasion of the Body Snatchers Essay

It was Jodi Dean who stated, “Narratives of abduction and conspiracy are uniquely influential in the current technological context, a context where information travels at the speed of light and everything is entertainment.”  She goes on to say, “Narratives of abduction reconfigure the present’s acceptance of passivity, suspicion, paranoia, and loss, as themselves, forms of action.”  Invasion of the Body Snatchers captivates this statement well.  It’s entertaining, it’s had two remakes, and it does display that element that conspiracy thrillers often portray.  The narrative of abduction in Invasion also covers every emotional element that combines conspiracy with gothic as well.  Between paranoia and the forbidden desires of the characters, it’s easy to argue that Invasion is a conspiracy thriller that brought to surface the issues the country had been facing through the original and the remakes.

                According to the US Census Bureau, the divorce rate of the United States hit an all-time high of 2.5 per thousand eligible citizens between the year 1950-1954. Glenda Riley reports that it rose most noticeably after World War II.  When soldiers returned home, marriages couldn’t with-stand the pressure of war-time stress and many marriages failed.  Some would say the World War II and the Korean War took a toll on institutional marriage.  Because it was very evident in a lot of American Cinema, through the elements of femme fatale, that women had taken over the role of their husbands while they were deployed and fighting the war; it was no surprise that marriages were threatened and losing to the battles of post-war households. 

                Siegel’s Invasion of the Body Snatchers was, in a sense, a satire on how the institution was threatened and also expressed fear and distrust of the dehumanizing and debilitating force of 1950s middle-class marriage and domesticity.  Because women were beginning to work outside the home and getting divorced, Invasion provided these pods that would dehumanize people of Santa Mira, which maintained stability and lack of emotion.  The two main characters, Becky Driscoll and town doctor, Miles Bennell, fall into a post-divorce romance as they team up to figure out the mystery of the disappearances of their neighbors and friends.  It is suggested in the beginning of the film that they are divorced when they talk about being in Reno.  Just like Johnny Cash and June Carter sang about going to Jackson, Mississippi to get married, it’s apparent that Reno was the place to get divorced. 

                When Becky and Miles part ways at Becky’s father’s hardware store, notice in the background the display in the window of household items such as coffee pots, flint-ware pots and pans, and a foreshadowing of events to come with the slip in of the bug spray, and how it sets these two characters up to be obviously different from the rest of the town already.  Becky is first introduced to us wearing a sleeveless dress with sparkling earrings, looking like she’s going out for a night on the town.  She’s best described as the Gothic heroine.  Elements that support this are; the consuming force, the inborn curse or innate flaw, the loss of self within traditional social relationships-and they terrorize Becky.

                Her role as the Gothic heroine develops more in the film as she teams up with Brenner to help solve the mystery of their friends and neighbor’s mysterious transformation from being human to becoming a vegetable.  Throughout the film, both Miles and Becky also develop symptoms of agency panic.  They’re paranoid about the changing town around them, they know people are being replaced by these pods of duplicates being planted around town and yet in the end the psychiatrists don’t believe Dr. Bennel’s story.    Jodi Dean states, “Taking [abductees] seriously, trusting the words of everyday people, now means allowing for the truth of alien abduction.”  Though at the end of invasion a police officer reports the same findings Dr. Bennel just described to the psychiatrist, we do not see how it plays out.  The movie cuts and ends at that very moment.  So the viewers are left wondering what will happen next.

                Actor Kevin McCarthy who played Miles Bennel in the 1956 film, makes a cameo appearance in the 1978 remake.  In the moment Donald Sutherland and Brooke Adams are driving through San Francisco, Dr. Miles Bennel stumbles upon the car, screaming, “They’re coming!”  before staggering down the street and getting killed.   In this remake of Invasion, not only do we encounter the fate of the character from the previous film, but the story continues with Elizabeth Driscoll and Matthew Bennel.  They act as descendents of the original characters, carrying on their curse and inheriting the same symptoms of agency panic as the story continues to be told through them.  Elizabeth Driscoll also has a more active role in society as she works as a research analyst for the Department of Health and Services.  Rather than being divorced and living under the care of her father, she’s living out of wedlock with her boyfriend, Geoffrey. 

In the beginning of the remake, there is footage of floating molecules almost looking like different strands of genetic codes and DNA.  A wistful sound hushes among the floating particles and in the background there is the view of a planet.  This scene is almost a metaphor of the reproductive process as it looks like sperm meeting the egg; the Earth being the egg.  With this transition to planet Earth, the small plant pods attach themselves to trees, plants and grass, a very subtle invasion that happens without notice.  Again, suggestions of an American gothic can be applied to the remake as the painted ladies serve as the mansion that supposed to fulfill the gothic stage.  The elements of American gothic are projected on the characters.

Elizabeth is a key character in this film because she helps illustrate the lack of domesticity that women had during the 1970s because of Women’s Liberation.  In the original Becky is every domesticated and exudes the image of a television house wife like June Cleaver.  Even though she and Dr. Bennel weren’t married, in the scene at his house, they are both playing house and pretending to be married while she cooks for him.  In the 1978 version, Matthew Bennel is the one cooking for Elizabeth when she comes over to tell him about Geoffrey.  Yet he lures her into helping him cook dinner by assigning her to chop onions.  This plays on the overall aspect of the film where the invasion is trying to sustain human, marital behavior between a man and woman.  Jennifer Jenkins stated, “Invasion of the Body Snatchers both maintain the subtext of marriage and divorce as part of the Gothic apparatus of the film narratives.”  The roles in which Elizabeth and Matthew play in the film, portray of what the rest of society saw as a threat to marriage.  Living out of wedlock was growing more and more popular.  Dr. David Kibner [Nemoy] states, “People are stepping in and out of relationships too fast because they don’t want the responsibility.”  He goes on to say, “That’s why marriages are going to hell—the whole family unit is shot to hell.”  As we follow Dr. Kibner and Elizabeth as he continues his session with her, they stop in front of a display window of a furniture store.  Much like the display window in the original 1956, this gestures towards how the invasion of the plants that are trying to stabilize a sense of domesticity.  The dining set in the window is supposedly set up for a family, which supports Dr. Kibner’s argument earlier in the conversation when he stated that the family unit was shot to hell.  An empty dining set illustrates what he means.

                Because Elizabeth and Miles are involved in a romance that is based off infidelity, they pose as the reason for the invasion.  Elizabeth especially displays the symptoms of agency panic as she feels the entire city has changed overnight, and everywhere she runs people seem to be watching her, keeping an eye on her.  It’s as if they know she’s been unfaithful to her boyfriend or inhabits strong feelings for her co-worker, Matthew Bennel.  When Dr. Kipner finally captures her and Miles in the lab, with the help of her boyfriend Geoffrey, the strong connection Miles and Elizabeth share almost pose as a threat to the invaders as they try to put a stop to it. 

                The moment Elizabeth is changed at the end of the film could refer to the Mary Ann Doane article where it talks about The Stepford Wives and it states, “The Stepford Wives indicates a loss of the obsessive force of the signifying matrix of the machine-woman-as though its very banalisation could convince that there is no real threat involved, no reason for anxiety.”  As Dr. Kipner proposes as he’s giving her the drug, “Born into an untroubled world free of anxiety, fear, hate.”  As a side note he indicates that love no longer exists either.  And in the end, Elizabeth does become like one of the Stepford Wives, but only in a sense that she has no feelings.

                What’s ironic about the film is that the pods are planted all over the city and serve as a vehicle for people to be reborn and live a life without disruption or war.  Everything points to this phenomena, the fetal heartbeat heard over the digetic sound, the pods themselves are in the shape of a uterus, and the flowers blooming gesture towards the beginning of a new life.  Even when the two main characters are constantly running and hiding from the pods, the fact that they are constantly thirsty and drinking water points to a life reborn because water brings life. The ironic part is the dead skin, the bagpipes playing Amazing Grace at the ship scene, and the fact that all the bodies are being “disposed” through the garbage trucks, suggests the end of life.  The pods and the replicas of these humans aren’t performing a rebirth of the human population; they are driving it to extinction.    

                As a conspiracy thriller, the film gestures towards the fact that this California gothic addresses the beginning of industrialization and the end of an empire and the rise of the middle class.  In each film and remake, the city grows bigger and population affected is larger.  In the original film, the conspiracy seemed to be that the plants were taking over the small town of Santa Mira because the divorce rate was so high, and the pods were sent to stabilize the institution of marriage.  In the remake, the conspiracy was the same target, only this time it was on preserving the idea of settling down, rather than jumping from one relationship to the next as Elizabeth does in the film. 

                In conclusion, I discovered that both films run with a similar theme to Stepford Wives and in some aspects Coma.  There seems to be this underlying fear from those in higher power of change and a lot of it points to the fear of these feminist movements and how women have been able to gain equilibrium.  In both the original and the remake, there was also the older male who seemed to dominate and recruit the younger male population.  In the 1978 version, Dr. Kipner recruits both Geoffrey and Jack (Jeff Goldblum) in an effort to get Matthew and Elizabeth to give in to the invasion.  Also the tower of the church that shows up behind Matthew, also indicates how Church and State are collusive in keeping women down.

                So perhaps the film’s portrayal of a plant invasion, is a subtle reference to the agency panic that society feels towards the revolution of relationships among marriage and the family unit.  It was a threat.  And in a sense, it is true.  Marriage has gone to hell in the last thirty years and the family unit isn’t doing so great anymore either.  So while the invasion might serve to prevent distress from happening among humanity, it also is another symbol of an emotional and mental apocalypse and it isn’t just the sanctity of marriage at risk, it’s the sanctity of life.

Second Shift Continued

Present time… 

The chapel is filled with people dressed in black.  The lull of sad organ music plays at the front of the chapel, filtering out the whimpering and the sobs from people who admired and loved this man.  It’s standing room only and I’m squeezed shoulder to shoulder between Nick and another gentleman wearing a Boondock Saints t-shirt.  I can tell by his posture he doesn’t want to be here.  Honestly, I don’t know why I’m here either, except to meet my mom for the first time in over twenty years.

My gaze reaches over the sea of heads, straining my eyes to the front row of the chapel.   There are two women sitting near the aisle.  A veiled hat covers one, her blonde hair bundled up beneath.  The other’s blonde hair wisps perfectly down her back and over her shoulders, perfectly straight.  Two younger boys, probably teenagers, sit in their black suits.  Down in front on stage is a shrine devoted to the mayor of Aberdeen, Washington.  A photo of him is surrounded by flowers and candles.  It’s a headshot of him, blonde haired, blue eyes, a carefree smile, with patriotic highlights of him in a red polo shirt with a blue background.  He must’ve been in college when the photo was taken.  This was a man I once called father.  A man who for five years I thought was my father. 

“Are you doing okay?”

A gentle hand cusps mine and a warm shiver climbs up my spine.  I gaze up into Nick’s eyes. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I say.

 

A priest approaches the podium and the crowd goes silent.  He begins his sermon and speaks poetically through God about this man, Richard Hanson.  He was a devoted husband and loving father.  He was loved by his congregation as a pastor, and adored by the people in the city as mayor.  If I hadn’t known the truth, I would believe every single word the priest was saying about him.  I just stood there, looking away every time kind words were spoken about my supposed step-father.   It was like a dagger to the heart.  This man who was so good was so cruel to me.  How could he be the same person everyone thought they knew?  Or perhaps, I just never knew the person everyone else knew.

Throughout the sermon, people are open to speak about Richard Hanson, and share their fondest memory.  Co-workers, colleagues, members of commerce all share their stories.  After a firefighter finishes sharing his moving story about how Richard Hanson honored them during the 9/11 attacks in 2001, the woman with long blonde hair sitting the front gets up to speak.    The woman in the hat has yet to get up to say anything.  She wipes her tears with stiff tissue and waits for the younger blonde to speak.

“I miss you dad,” she starts. “You were always there for me.  You taught me how to ride a bike and fish.”

                People in the crowd start sniffling as she talks about her dad.  She speaks of fishing, camping, road trips and college while her dad was alive.  As I stand here, squeezed between the possible love of my life, and some guy with a growing bad odor, a flood of memories come rushing through, with this blonde woman.  Her name is Ashley.  And as I look at her now, I only know her as my half-sister, but she was once my sister.

                I was four years old when my mom had her.  She came home from the hospital and I was happy to have a sister; A possible friend.   We had tea parties, played dress up, fight over the Atari Donkey Kong game and ride our bikes in the driveway during the summer.  We’d have fun at the wading pool and I’d share with her the books I brought home from the school library to read when I was in kindergarten.  Up until Richard Hanson discovered what I was, she and I were close.  She knew what I was before I even understood it.  As a child there is no question or voice of reason as to why something is what it is and why people are what they are.  She accepted me and she loved me for what I was.  Whenever she got sick, I’d keep her spirits up by shifting into her favorite animals.  I’d go through our encyclopedia and pick out animals from the pages and shift into something cool like a monkey or a parrot.  She would always get a kick out of it.  It helped her feel better.                  I don’t even know if she remembers me or if they brain washed her into thinking I was a figment of her imagination. 

               

                When the ceremony is over, everyone is invited to Jolene’s house for the reception.  Her house is perched up on the hillside, overlooking the small town of Aberdeen.  I stand on the back porch, staring off into the distance.  I think about the stories I heard and compare them to my own tragic childhood. 

                I feel a kiss on my neck and a glass of champagne is offered to me. 

                “I thought you could use one,” Nick says to me.  I beam at him.

                “You read my mind.”

                Having Nick here brings me comfort.  With his handsome smile, his soft soothing voice and his tender arms, he is my life raft.

                “You doing okay?” He asks. 

                “I’m fine,” I say.

                “Your step-dad sounds like he was a good guy.”

                I shrug.  I forget that Nick doesn’t know the whole truth.  He only knows that my real dad, Duane, was given custody of me in Astoria, Oregon, because I was having trouble with bullies.  Which is partially true.  Kids did pick on me.  Two kids in particular were Dennis and Sasha Chambers.  Fraternal twins.  Sasha had it out for me from the beginning, before I even went to school.  She would bully me on the playground, throw rocks at me, called me names and even turn the rest of the girls against me.  I had no friends.  Dennis always took my lunch and started the whole cooties rumor. 

                After a while I got tired of being scared and instead I would disappear into the woods during recess and hide out up in the tree as a squirrel or raccoon.  It was my escape from the other kids who just wanted to harm me. 

                “Are you still gonna try to talk to your mom?”

                Nick snaps me out of my memories.  I force a smile at him. 

                “I want to,” I begin to pace back and forth on the porch. “I’m just really nervous.  What if she doesn’t recognize me?”

                “There’s only one way to find out,” Nick says.

                He stops me in my tracks and holds me close by the shoulders. A tremor runs through me with his deep brown eyes gazed upon me.  They’re longing and full of desire.  It’s been a month since Nick and I started seeing one another, but we have yet to consummate our relationship.  Though we both want it.  Every time I look into his eyes I can see the desire burning just as my own desire burns for him.  Every time he touches me or looks at me, that burning desire is unending.  I slither my arms around his shoulders and pull him close.  His gentle lips are soft and comforting.  His gentle, strong hands pull me close as they caress through the fabric of my dress.  He runs his fingers through the tight strands of my bundled hair.  This is all I want right now. 

                “Come on,” he says. “I’ll be right beside you.”   

His gaze captures mine and it calms me.  I nod quickly and he leads me into the house.  The place is crowded and surrounded by people sniffling and talking in a quiet whisper about Mr. Hanson.  It’s difficult to maneuver through the crowd as I hold on tight to Nick’s hand.  I’m searching through the crowd for my mom, but I don’t see her.

                 “Shelly?”

                The sound of my name forces us to stop.  I turn and I see the heavy-set man at the funeral, still wearing the Boondock Saints t-shirt.    He comes stumbling towards me with a large bottle of wine in his hand.

                “I thought that was you..  Damn!  You are looking good!”

                I suddenly feel uncomfortable.  Politely, Nick and I try to sneak away among the crowd, but this man is quick, he’s able to stop us.  He tugs me by the arm.

                “It’s me, Dennis Chambers.  Remember?  From Stevens Elementary?”

                “Wow!” I force myself. “Look at you!”

                His laughter is infectious as he hisses it out.  His chin jiggles and his eyes disappear in the squint of his laughter. 

                “I know,” he jabs me on the shoulder. “I’m still as good looking as I was in high school.”

                I just stand there, at a loss for words.  People are glaring at us as he laughs, looking at us as if we just let off a stink bomb.  This feels like a high school reunion even though I never went to high school with him.

                “Sasha!” He waves across the room. “Look who I found!”

                I look over to see her waving back and pushing her way through the crowd.  I instinctively pull Nick closer to me, he drapes his arm over my shoulder.  Sasha looks the same as she did when we were in kindergarten.  She still has the long brown hair and the snooty look on her face.  She shows up in a black leather jacket, underneath is a laced up tank top with a pair of blue jeans.  She’s holding a glass of champagne and her eyes widen when she sees me.  As if we were long lost friends, she wraps her arms around me.

                “Oh, Shelly, it’s so good to see you!”

                I can’t say anything.  I’m too stunned to even respond.  Without even giving me much more time, Sasha instantly grabs me by the arm and pulls me through the house.

“You know I just saw your mom.  You should totally say hi to her!”

I shake my head in protest, not ready for this now.  I can’t face her.  Not when everyone is already looking at me.  Sasha forces me out of the comfort of Nick’s arm.

“I can’t right now,” I try to fight.

“What do you mean?  She’d be thrilled to see you came!”

I look behind me to see Nick shadowing.  Sasha drags me through this colonial house.  People stop and stare at me, whispering to one another.  Sasha drags me to the dining room where my mom, Jolene, is collecting food on her plate and speaking with the priest. 

“Look who we found Mrs. Hanson?”

Sasha literally shoves me at the throws of my mother.  She looks at me, stunned.  My half-sister, Ashley, is standing next to her in the buffet line, looking between my mother and I with a puzzled look on her face. 

“Shelly?”  My mother says.

Ashley whips her gaze at me, eyes widen, jaw dropped.  Trembling with anxiety I search for my words. 

“M-mom?”

The very word sends a hush throughout the entire house.  People standing in the buffet line stop and stare at me.  I can see the thought bubbles over their heads.  I recognize the priest up close.  A flashback of him sprinkling holy water on me and quoting Bible verses comes to mind.  He’s the one my mom called upon to have me exorcised.  She thought I was processed by a demon because of my ability to shift.  I’m suddenly frightened that they might say something in front of Nick. 

“I thought it’d be nice if the two of you said hi to one another,” Sasha says.

“Thank you Sasha.”

Jolene is very brisk.

“And thank you both for coming to show your support.  Please, have some refreshments.”  Sasha and Dennis pause a moment, as if they are waiting to see what happens before moving out of the dining room. 

I look at Nick.  My eyes are pleading, his sympathetic gaze hovers over me.  I look at my mom.  She’s very stiff and very cold.  Not a single warm smile or any indication that she’s happy to see me.

“Thank you for coming, Shelly.  I appreciate your support.”

“Shelly?” Ashley finally says. “Isn’t she the one that you-“

“Not now Ashley!” Mother hisses.  She looks back at me. “If you will excuse me, Shelly, I have other guests to tend to.”

She swiftly nods her head.

“Come along, Ashley.”

“But it’s Shelly,” Ashley begins.

“Come on!” Jolene demands.  She and Ashley head out of the dining area.  The priest lingers behind, looking at me with that observant gaze before following her lead.  I can feel my heart drop to the pit of my stomach as I remain standing there, frozen with humiliation. 

“That went well, didn’t it?” I say to Nick.

He places a comforting hand on my shoulder.

“Do you want to leave?”

I do want to leave, but the thought of leaving and not having any kind of closure or understanding with my mom would drive me crazy.  I know it! 

“We can stay if you want,” Nick adds.  “Whatever you decide.”

 

The crowd dies down and with just the caterers and the remaining funeral party left, Nick and I sit in the living room as I wait for my chance to finally confront my mother.  She comes traipsing through the livingroom, cleaning up after the guests.  I stand to attention.

“Mom?”

She shoots me a disgruntled look.

“What are you still doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

She shakes her head at me.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

My lips begin to tremble again, and I can feel my hands shaking. 

“Mrs. Hanson, my name is Nicholas Thorton and I would like to give you my condolences.”

Jolene forces a smile.

“Thank you, young man, I appreciate that.”

“He sounded like a good man.”

She sighs, dropping the garbage bag to her side.

“He was.  The best I’ve ever known in my life.”

She glares at me.

“I won’t let anything ruin that.”

Ashley comes in to see that I’m still here.  She’s lost and confused.

“Mom, what’s going on in here?”

Jolene calms herself.

“Say hello to our guests.  Shelly and Mr. Thorton.”

  Ashley smiles and nods. 

“Yes, Shelly!  I can’t believe it’s you, after all this time!“

She reaches for my hand, but Jolene quickly intervenes.

“If you two don’t mind I would like to speak with Shelly alone, in the office.”

Nick nods, respectfully.

“Of course,” he says.

Jolene leads me to the main foyer and down a narrow hall along the stairs where there’s an office tucked in the back of the house.  It’s a typical office, covered in book cases with a desk in the center with a window behind it.  Jolene takes a seat at her desk.   Her eyes stare up at me.  They’re blue and swollen with emotional pain.  I almost feel sorry for her. 

“Does he know?” She finally says.

I act dumb.

“Does he know what?”

Jolene huffs and sits up in her chair, leaning over the desk.

“Does he know what you are?”

Like I said, I almost feel sorry for her.

“No, he doesn’t know.  What does that matter?”

“You might want to tell him before it’s too late for you too.  Before you are forced to give up a child.”

“You didn’t have to give me up.”

She gets up from her chair, walking around the desk towards me.

“Yes, I did.  You see, I was the pastor’s wife.  A pastor who was running for mayor. I couldn’t risk people finding out what you were; that you weren’t even my husband’s daughter.  They would have started to question the fraternity of Ashley.    I had no choice.”

“So you had to protect your identity,” I say. “I understand that, but you didn’t have to ditch me the way you did.”

I stumble, my voice shaking.  I’m fighting the tears, but I can’t win.

“You didn’t give me a hug, you didn’t kiss me, you didn’t even say good bye.  You just dropped me off in some strange man’s lawn and left.  Do you know how traumatic that was for me? “

Jolene turns away, walking back behind the desk, staring out the window. 

“It was the easiest way to let go.”

“And then I try to reach out to you, but you never replied.  I wrote letters, sent emails and even sent you a friends request on Facebook.  I get nothing.”

There’s a long pause.  Jolene’s breath is shallow and stressed.  I can’t predict what will come.

“I was ashamed of you, that’s why.  Ashamed that I had a monster for a daughter.”

I shake my head, thinking about my life and about how evil I might actually be. 

“I’m no monster, mom.”

“Please do not call me that!” She shouts. “I am not your mother!  I never was!  If anything, having you was a mistake I wish I never made!”

The very words cut me like a knife.  There’s nothing left for me to say or do.  Trembling, my eyes fill with tears.  I burst out of the study and through the foyer and out the door.  I rush to Nick’s car and yank at the car handle, only it’s locked.  I bang on the door, my frustration pouring out.  I find myself crumbling to the defeat of the tears streaming.  I rest my head against the window pane of the car.  It’s cold and it’s smooth.  The shaking is almost uncontrollable.  I haven’t been able to stop it since I got here.  There’s only one way to stop it.  Only one thing will calm it down.  I have to shift.  I need to shift.  I know that I can’t.  I know he will see. 

I feel a hand resting on my back.  It gently caresses me, soothing me.  I turn to face Nick as he hovers over me, looking down at me with those sympathetic eyes.  I melt into him, wrapping my arms around him so tight.  I can feel his hot breath against me, his soft voice soothing me.  It’s almost better than shifting, feeling his arms around me and his heart against mine.  It’s all that I want right now. 

He kisses me gently on the forehead, then on the cheek before our lips touch.  His kiss is tender.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says. 

Intro to Second Shift

Twenty years ago…

“Mommy please don’t send her away!”

Ashley begs and pleads with her mom as she and Shelly hold on tight to one another.  Tears stream down their innocent childish cheeks.  Shelly holds her tight as if she were holding on to her own life.  Mr. Hanson desperately yanks the rusty strands of Shelly’s pigtails as he pries them apart.  Shelly is only six, Ashley  is only four.   Shelly cries out.

“I won’t do it anymore, I promise daddy.” 

“I’m not your father!  And you most certainly are not my daughter.  And you can’t control the demons that are inside you.  No more than I can control the power of God!”

“No daddy, please!” Ashley begs.

“Jolene, take Ashley into the other room!”

Jolene swoops little Ashley into her arms and carries her down the hallway.  Ashely kicks and screams, reaching for Shelly.  Shelly tries to go after her but Mr. Hanson swiftly picks her up over his shoulders and carries her to the brown trim station wagon.   Though she fights with every strength she has within her he shoves her into the backseat of the car.

                Ashley appears in the front room window upstairs and looks down at Shelly with tears streaming down her face.  Jolene is on the porch, arms folded over her chest.

                “Must you do this to them?” She says to Mr. Hanson.

                “Don’t give me the guilt trip, woman.  This is your mess.  You brought this upon them and yourself.  You’re lucky I’m a man of God who doesn’t believe in divorce.”

                Mr. Hanson turns to go into the house.

                “Isn’t every child a child of God?  Like you always preach?”

                Mr. Hanson crouches his shoulders and without uttering another word he heads back into the house, slamming the door behind him.

 

“Mommy, I need to go potty,” Shelly cries from the back seat.

Her face is pale and white.  The only color she shows are the red ribbons in her rusty-colored hair.  A soft motor sound rumbles from a little gray striped kitten sitting comfortably in Shelly’s little arms.  Shelly’s mom, Jolene, drives frantically down the highway without even making a rest stop.  They’ve already been on the road for an hour and a half, driving down the 101 towards Astoria, Oregon. 

“Too bad, you’re just gonna have to hold it!”

“But I can’t,” Shelly cries. 

“Don’t you start that crying!  You know what happens when you do!”

But Shelly can’t stop.  She knows how much trouble she’ll be in if she pees her pants. 

“Stop it!” Jolene yells.

Her cry turns into a high pitched squeal, Shelly’s eyes swell with tears streaming down her cheeks. 

Jolene steers the car onto the side of the highway, just north of Long Beach, Washington.  She gets out of her car and jerks the back passenger seat open.  She unbuckles Shelly’s seatbelt and allows her to scurry off

The shaking only makes Shelly cry even more and before she knows it, she shifts into a kitten; identical to the one in her lap. 

“Fine, you want to be an animal, be an animal.”

Jolene snatches both the kittens up by the collar and tosses them in a dog kennel in the trunk.  The kittens snuggle up with one another the remainder of the trip.

 

Duane is sitting on the porch, smoking his cigarette when Jolene pulls into his driveway.  It’s an unannounced visit.  Jolene gets out of the car and marches around to the trunk.

“Jolene?” He says. “What in the hell are you doing here?”

“I thought you might still be living here,” she says. “I came to drop something off for you.”

Jolene yanks the back hatch open and grabs the dog kennel with the twin kittens still huddled inside.  Duane looks at it, confused.

“Um…you shouldn’t have?”

“One of them’s your spawn, Duane!  I got pregnant with one of your demon-children!”

“What are you saying?”

Rolling her eyes at Duane, Jolene sets the kennel down and pulls out one of the kittens.  She sets them both down on the grass and in an instant, one of them shifts into a five year old little girl.

“Jesus Christ!” Duane reacts instantly, covering Shelly with his jacket.  “Are you telling me she’s my daughter?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were a freak?”

Duane searches his words. 

“I had no idea, Jolene.  I had no idea that you were pregnant with my child.”

“I was, and I got stuck with your mess.  You tricked me!”

Duane shook his head.

“You know that isn’t true.  We were both drunk when it happened.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Jolene retorts. “You should’ve told me that you were a freak.  I might have saved myself the trouble of all this drama.”

Jolene proceeds to walk back to her car, Duane chases after her.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“She’s yours now,” Jolene marches on. “You deal with her.”

“Mommy, wait!” Shelly stammers to her feet, reaching for her mom.

“You can’t just leave her here!” Duane shouts.

“She’s your responsibility now, Duane!  What in the hell am I supposed to do with a freak?  She’ll never fit in with our family.  She’s where she belongs , if not in hell!”

Duane is aghast by Jolene, shaking his head.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Jolene!  I can’t take care of a child!”

“Mommy, don’t go!” Shelly cries.

Over and over, Shelly cries out for her mom, pleading with her not to leave her.  Without a kiss, without a hug and even without a wave, Jolene pulls out of the drive way and disappears around the corner.  Shelly chases after the station wagon, hollering and wailing.  It was a cry that could break a heart into pieces.  Duane just stands in the yard, feeling useless and overwhelmed.

Sign Guest Book

You know how there is a guest book at weddings, birthday parties, etc.  Well, I would appreciate it for those of you who read my blog if you could sign your name and leave a brief comment or suggestion. 

Thanks!
 

Chance of Clouds

                Offering Larry Scotch and Cigars was probably the most desperate thing I could think of in an attempt to lure him over here.  The smell of whiskey pollutes my senses when I greet him at the door.  I can tell he’s already had too much to drink.  I water down the glass of scotch in as much ice and water as I can so he doesn’t realize the difference.  He’s sitting on the couch, slouched, his face covered in stubs of hair from lack of shaving.   His divorce has devastated him and has left him feeling so much grief that he can barely hold it together.  I invited him over for dinner with my wife and I hoping that his favorite bottle of Scotch and fancy cigars would pull him out of his state, but he seems more on edge than ever.

                I join him on the sofa, doing what I know best to comfort him. Larry’s my brother and we’ve always been close.  We were born eighteen months apart from each other, so we were close.  Even though he went off and joined the military and got himself hitched, while I went on to Architect School and became an architect, we still remained a tight-knit set of brothers.

 "How do you do it?" He says to me. "How do you keep your marriage together?  It's like mine just slipped through my fingers and I can't put the pieces back together."

                "Marriage is rough.  It takes a lot of effort and commitment.  It's not easy for anyone no matter how much it looks like a fairy tale to everyone else."

                He takes a swig of his Scotch and puffs on his cigar, leaning back on the sofa, resting his head against the cushion as he transitions his stare from the floor to the ceiling.  Larry looks as though he hasn’t seen a razor in weeks.  His beard has overgrown his face, his hair looks like a cue-tip and his clothes?  Let’s just say if it hadn’t been for his wife he never would have known how to dress properly.  His shirt’s un-tucked and it looks as though he’s been wearing the same jeans for the past three days.  He’s not well.    

                "She's taking our son, did you know that?"

                I shake my head, devastated about the news.

                "Shit, I'm so sorry."

                "She didn't even ask if I wanted him, she just assumed she had rights to them."

                Amy walks in with a tray of peanuts and chips and sets it down on the ottoman.  Larry sits up at full attention; it’s the fastest I’ve seen him move since he got here. 

                “I thought you might like an appetizer before dinner,” my wife says.

                “Thank you,” I say to her.

                “You read my mind, Amy,” Larry declares. 

                Amy disappears out of the study and Larry slouches back on the couch, tossing some peanuts into his mouth.  He sighs.

                “I envy you, Denny,” he says. “You don’t have an ungrateful, nagging wife who threatens you every time you talk about going to Vegas every few months.”

                A constant nagging in my head insists on arguing with Larry’s idea of my perfect life.  I try to keep myself steady, solid, as I pour myself a drink.

                “Don’t envy me,” I say.

                “You have an amazing woman who loves you and would stick by you no matter what.  You don’t have to worry about her taking your kids away if you got a divorce.”

 Larry’s words are plied by fatigue, scotch and cigars. It’s a painful and unwelcome reminder of the trouble my wife and I have been going through in an effort to have children.  We have been married for almost ten years and have been trying to have children for five long, grueling and devastating years.  Years that involved fertility drugs, and a miscarriage that has left us with a painful reality. 

Amy has taken it pretty hard; She drowns her sorrows in a bottle of Jameson, and one time I caught her taking a valium with the whiskey.   I snatch the bottle from her delicate hand.  She screams at me.

                “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I say. “Do you know a combination like that can fuck you up?”

                “Leave me alone, Denny.  This doesn’t concern you!”

                “It does.  You’re my wife!  I have a right to know if you’re poisoning yourself!”

                Amy starts blubbering, her hands shaky.  She leans against the sink, shivering and sobbing; her mascara runs like paint down her cheeks.  The one miscarriage left her feeling pretty devastated.  She was six months pregnant when it happened.  No one suspected that there was anything wrong; the pregnancy had been coming along so smoothly.  The baby was at the right weight and size and it was kicking up a storm, so we had gotten its room ready.  Then one night, Amy woke me up, screaming in fear.  I spring up in my bed and I can see her in our bathroom, standing there with blood dripping down her legs.  Lots of blood. 

                We get to the hospital where she had to have an emergency C-section.  I had to stand there and watch as they yanked my fragile son from my wife’s belly.  He wasn’t breathing, he wasn’t crying, he wasn’t kicking.  My son was dead.  I stood there and I watched them wrap him up in a blanket and set him in the cradle.    

                “Is he sleeping?” My wife mutters from behind the sheet the doctors pinned up.

                “No, sweetie,” I whimper. “He’s gone.”

                I can see the pain in her eyes as she turns away from me, her eyes filled with tears.  I reach out to comfort her, but she brushes me away.  The horrible incident left her in a state of severe depression for months. 

                “I just want the pain to stop,” she sobs as she reaches for the pills from my hand.

                “This isn’t going to help,” I say.

                “What the fuck do you know about it?” She yells. “Do you know what it’s like to lose a baby that had been growing inside you?”

                “No,” I say. “But I lost him too.  You’re not the only one who lost him.”

                Rage and fury build-up in her blood-shot red eyes.

                “Get the fuck out of my sight!” She screams.

                She shoves me out of the bathroom and slams the door.  That began an endless streak of sleeping in the study on the fold out couch.

                Larry notices the poignant disposition appearing across my face.

                “Shit, man I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean anything by that.”

                “It’s alright,” I say solemnly.  “I suppose there is that blessing in disguise, but I wouldn’t jump to the conclusion that my life is anything to be envious about.”

                “You have it all together, man.  You have a successful career, a nice home, a beautiful wife.  I’m jealous.”

                 I kill off the last of my Scotch and set the glass on the bar.

                “What the hell good is a home if it’s empty?” I say.

                Larry sits there in a chilling silence.  I can’t say anymore.  I run my hand over my face to hide the tears that are starting to form and excuse myself from the study.

                 

               

                I go to the kitchen to check on my wife as she’s cooking dinner.  She’s working on the salad, chopping tomatoes and celery.  I offer to help, but she shoos me away.

                “Don’t bother yourself with it,” she snaps.

                “I want to be useful somehow,” I say.

                “Keep Larry company.”

                “I can’t. I need a break.”

                “You can’t even handle your own brother?”

She smirks.

“I thought you two were close.”

                “We are,” I retort. “I just need a breather.”

                “You need a breather,” she says unimpressed.

                She stops her chopping and glares at me.  You could cut the tension with a knife with that glare. 

                “Go then.  We need coffee.  I know you’re going to need it later if you want to get those designs done for that project in Kirkland.  One of us still has to make a living.”

                She returns to her chopping and I just stand there, the rage and frustration building up inside. I exit out the backdoor without notice.

I hitch up our yellow Lab, Moses, and the two of us walk down to the store.  As oppose to the tension that lingers in my house, there’s calm on the street.  The street lamps are dimly lit as the warm, spring sun sets over the Olympic mountain range.  A combination of yellow, pink and indigo paint the sky as the day becomes night and the fresh, cool breeze fills my lungs with an air so heavenly I almost felt I were the walking dead.  It’s therapeutic.  The spring air makes it easier to clear my head from the drama that surrounds the demise of my life, my brother’s life.  I don’t know how much more of it I can take.

                Moses and I arrive at Jake’s Grocery Mart.  His son, Jeffrey is busy stocking the shelves with canned goods and greets me in his pubescent voice.

“How are you doing today, Mr. Morgan?” He

“Fine, Jeffrey, how are you?”

“I’ll be glad when school is finally over.”

I chuckle.

“Yes, it’s that time of year isn’t it?”

“Denny!” Jake calls from behind the counter. “How the hell are you doing?”

 Jake and I have known one another ever since my wife and I moved to this neighborhood a few years ago. We get together for poker games every once in a while, along with a few of my colleagues.  His store is the best place to go when I need something and he always makes sure he has my favorite coffee in stock. 

                Jake is middle aged with balding, graying hair and smells of Camel’s cigarettes. The first few times I came in here we talked about nothing but fishing and that became our bonding point.  Eventually he and his wife invited Amy and I up to Whidbey Island where he took me out on his boat and went fishing and crabbing.  We are like family now.

                “Okay I suppose,” I say.

                “How’s that lovely wife of yours?  Feeling any better?”

                “It’s still pretty rough,” I sigh. “She’s on anti-depressants now, but I’m not sure if they’re helping.  Work at least keeps her busy, but when she’s home with me it’s like everything is a constant reminder of our failed attempt to have children.”

                He shakes his head, hands leaned on the counter. 

                “I’m truly sorry, Den.  I sure wish I had words of wisdom to help you through this rough time.  Perhaps you two need a vacation, get out of the city for a while.  You can use our place up on the island if you want.”

                “I might take you up on that offer,” I say.

                “What can I do for you today, son?”

                “I just came to get some coffee,” I say.

                I spot my favorite brand on the shelf and grab it.  Jake quickly rings it up, offering Moses a dog treat.  I thank him and Moses and I head back towards the house.  I’m suddenly dwelling and stewing in my own misery.  I’m not ready to go back to the house.  Not yet.  I’m not sure how much more I can handle Larry the more he drinks and the way my wife looks at me with that pressing resentment in her eyes.  I know she blames me for everything.  Somehow it’s always my fault.  I should’ve gotten her to the hospital sooner, or I should have stopped her from taking Yoga for pregnant women.  There are different reasons why it’s been my fault.

                I live in the Beacon Hill neighborhood and my house is conveniently located near the look-out point where a lot of people like to take their dogs and take in a great view of the city from afar. I lead Moses over to the bench to sit for a moment, staring out onto the city and the rushing traffic that speeds by.  The lights of the sky scrapers are a glow throughout, as the fast lights of the rushing cars roar in and out of the city.  Bright lights from Safeco are shimmering in the evening sky as the Mariners are probably on another losing streak.  It’s a nice place I go to whenever I want to be alone.  No guilt to bother me, no remorse for Larry, just Moses, me and the city before me.  I think of my childhood and how I came here when I was a boy to watch them implode the old King Dome in order to build the Seahawk’s stadium.  I remember my dad bringing my sister and I here on Sundays as we explored different parts of Seattle.  Those were simpler times.  Now I’m not sure if there is such a word.  Between Larry’s divorce and the miscarriage, the word is practically moot. 

                Moses starts whining and nudges my hand.  That’s usually a sign to head back home so he can eat.  So we do.  I cut through the backyard to let Moses off his leash and into the dog run.  When I turn to head into the house I notice through the kitchen window Larry and my wife, having some sort of conversation and laughing about it.  I watch for a moment.  I’ve never seen either of them so damn happy and engaged.  I’m about to head inside when I notice they’ve suddenly stopped.  They gaze at one another and I can see that spark that naturally settles between them.  It’s the look of longing and desire and in that moment they lean into one another and exchange a long, passionate and deep kiss.  Now I feel like the one who is drowning.

                I don’t know what else to do at this point.  I just stand there like an idiot, watching my brother make out with my wife.  Had they planned this?  Is this the first time?  My hands start to tremble and I can feel the blood coursing through my veins in a violent rage, coming to a boil.    I hold tight onto the coffee can.

                Their lips part and I begin pacing around in the yard.  Do they not even see me?  Are they too caught up in the moment of the kiss to even realize they just kissed in front of me?  They stand there, gazing into one another’s eyes, looking so blissfully fucking happy that I want to put a bullet through my own fucking head.  I raise the canister of coffee to the level of my head and launch it at the kitchen window, causing a loud bang that startles the two of them out of their state of bliss.  The dog is getting excited and barks.  Amy peers out her window and spots me.  I can see her lips moving, saying, “Oh my God” as she stares at me.  Larry is at her side, mouthing the words, “holy shit” as he stares at me.

                 

                He comes out to the back yard.  If he comes any closer I will kill him.  I should kill him. 

                “I don’t know what you saw,” Larry says in a calm and thoughtful manner.

                “Fuck you!  You know exactly what I saw,” I say.

                “It was just a kiss, she was upset.”

                “Yeah,” I say unconvinced. “She sure looked upset.”

                “Denny, please come in the house.”

                My wife follows Larry out into the yard.

                “What?” I snap. “What do you want me to do?”

                “Come inside and let’s just have dinner.”

                “I’m not having dinner with you guys,” I say.

                “Denny, please,” she urges me to calm down.

                “I’m not having dinner with him and I’m not taking any more shit from you about the fucking miscarriage.  It wasn’t my god damn fault!  Okay?  I lost him too!”

I can feel the pain in my tears as I fight to hold them back.  The pain infused with rage and hatred. 

“Shit happens!” I say dismissively.

                “How dare you,” she snarls.

                “I hope you and Larry are happy together,” I finally say. “I really do.”

                “Come on, man, don’t be like that.”

                Larry reaches a hand out to me, but I back off and swing my fist at his jaw.  I can feel it crack against my knuckles, pain shoots through my fist and I shake it out.  Tears are streaming down my wife’s cheeks.  I quickly grab the dog, get in my car and drive off and head towards Jake’s.  A few days on Whidbey Island sounds like a great idea.