Coal Miner's Row

I met my first love - if you can call it love- when I was about eight years old. In a small shack of a post-office, waiting in a line for penny-candy, I impatiently watched a girl with long, blond pigtails trace streaks in the glass counter as she directed the post-master, George, to her choices. She would then tap the glass with a chipped-polish fingernail when George would locate the candy she wanted.

Once her candy was paid for and placed in a small, brown sack, she turned to face me with blue eyes exaggerated by the thick lenses of her large red glasses. She offered one of her purple Swedish Fish candies pinched tightly between her fingers. “Want one?”

“No.” I pushed past her to the counter to get my own.

George, smiled as I approached the counter and made my selections. I , too, was a fan of the small licorice fish and purchased several of my own along with a sleeve of small chocolate balls and Smarties. The post-master would occasionally look in the direction of the girl in long pig-tails as she observed me buying the candy. “Who’s your friend, Jack?”

“My name is Dani!” she announced.

“Good to meet you, Dani, “ George gave me a wink as he took my money and handed me my bag of candy.

I turned to leave and Dani confronted me; still chomping away at her candy with her large gapped teeth. “I’m making a sand-box. You can come and help me.” While taken aback by the directness of her proposal, my interest was piqued by the sandbox. I agreed to follow the girl to her house across the street and on the end of a row of small, shabby hovels where we lived. The cookie-cutter structures, built decades ago to house the miners who hammered their living from the coal laying several feet beneath the surface, mostly sheltered single mothers and their children these days. Dani led me under the front porch enclosed in lattice work and presented our project. It comprised of a hole she dug out of the dirt and a small mound of sand made from pulverising sandstone with a hammer belonging to her mother’s boyfriend, Jeff. Dani crouched down and raked her fingers through the sand. “You should get your hammer.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Maybe you can use a hard rock.” Dani’s pigtails whipped back and forth as she searched for a stone suitable for task and found one in the back corner of the porch. “Here. This one should work.” She presented me with a large, smooth rock and immediately demonstrated how to crush the sandstone to a powder. The rest of the afternoon was spent scavenging for sandstone and pounding it to sand and constantly congratulating ourselves on how much better our sand was than the stuff you buy at the store. At one point, Dani took a hand-full of the sand and we watched as it sifted through her fingers; sparkling like a fireworks display in the light of the setting sun. Dani’s glasses also caught the light. “See? The regular stuff doesn’t sparkle.”

Just then, the storm door squeaked open. “Dani! Time for dinner!” Dani motioned for me to be quiet.

“Dani! Dani! Get your butt home right now!” As her mother yelled, Dani crossed her eyes and mockingly mouthed her mother’s calls; causing me to laugh and give away our location.

“Dani, get out from under the porch and get ready for dinner!”

We climbed out from under the porch. “Wanna come over tomorrow?” Dani asked - brushing the dirt from her bottom.

“Sure.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow.” She then ran up the stairs of the porch and waved as she disappeared into the house behind her mother.

The next morning, my mother came into my bedroom. “Jack, you have a visitor at the front door.”

I rambled to the front door and saw Dani’s face up against the glass with her hands cupped around her eyes. “Can you come over?”

“Yeah.” Dani stepped back form the door to allow me to exit and we ran to her house through the high grass still wet with the morning dew and dove under the porch. After deciding that our socks and shoes were too wet, we took them off and resumed the smashing and grinding of sandstone. At times, we would sing songs like “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad” and “John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt,” pounding the rocks to the meter of the songs. When Dani felt it was time for a break, she would go into the house for a couple cups of Kool Aid and we would talk about our favorite cartoons or complain about our mothers’ rules about nap-time and cleaning our rooms.

Finally, she popped the question that would usher me into a new reality I was completely ignorant of. “Do you wanna be boyfriend-girlfriend?”

I looked at her with some confusion. She pushed her glasses up her nose and sipped on her drink as she waited for my reply.

“Sure. I guess.”

“Well, then, we have to kiss.”

“Why?”

“Cause that’s what boyfriends and girlfriends do!” she said impatiently.

I remember being completely unsure of what was about to happen, but was willing to defer to her confidence. She finally leaned in and planted a clumsy, slobber-laden kiss right on my mouth and then leaned back with a look of satisfaction. As if some rite of matrimony had taken place, Dani announced, “Now we’re boyfriend-girlfriend.”

I wiped the Kool Aid scented slime from my face with the back of my hand; still unsure what to make of what just happened. After some thought, I replied “Can I have a turn with the hammer now?”

Later that night, I remember scrunching my mouth to my nose and still smelling Dani’s grape scented spit on my upper lip. I didn’t mind it and actually wondered how I could get my mother to drink Kool Aid before licking her thumb to scour food from the corners of my mouth.

The ritual of a kiss before playing went on for a couple of weeks without any emendation. However, Dani saw her mom and Jeff doing something one night that would cause her to feel we needed to take things to a new level.

“My mom was laying on top of Jeff last night when they were kissing.”

“Oh?”

“Yep. They had their clothes off too!”

“I’m not taking my clothes off.” I knew where this was heading.

Dani became impatient. “Okay, but I still have to lay on top of you when we kiss!” And so she did. As Dani went to work soaking my face with saliva, I allowed myself to be distracted by a spider fussing over her cotton ball nest tucked into the corner formed by the joist and the floor of the porch. Dani noticed I was focused on something other than the task at hand and twisted around to see what I was looking at. With the palm of her hand, she smashed the spider and resumed mopping my face with her mouth.

Suddenly, I felt a jerk and Dani disappeared through the opening where we entered the porch. I jumped out to discover Dani in the clutches of her mother; her thin body convulsing as her mother spanked her. Once winded, Dani’s mother released her arm and noticed me standing there in shock. With her long finger, she pointed towards my house. “Get your ass home!” I immediately turned and began to run home, but slowed after getting a little distance between myself and Dani’s mother. Knowing that a phone call was being made and my mother would be privy to what just happened, my sprint became more of a dawdle.

I was approaching the steps of the porch when the front door swung open. My mother exited and stood with her hands on her hips. “What’s going on?”

I carefully thought about my response as I picked the white paint on the banister of the porch, revealing the grey wood underneath it. Finally, I simply shrugged - knowing my mother would not settle for that answer.

“What were you and Danni doing under that porch?” My mother pressed.

Not able to take the pressure any more, I finally broke down. “Dani said we were boyfriend/girlfriend and she said we had to kiss! Then she said she saw her mom and Jeff laying on top of each other naked and I told her I wasn’t gonna take my clothes off, but then she got on top of me and was kissing me!”

I fully expected to receive a spanking of my own until I saw a wry smile spread over my mother’s face. She looked in the direction of Dani’s house and said, “Go to your room for the night. You and Dani stay out from under porches from now on.”

I entered the house and made my way to the bedroom I shared with my brother, Brad, who was on the floor whipping Matchbox cars across the floor. He looked up as I fell on the bed. “Did you get in trouble?”

“Leave me alone!” My brother simply got up and left the room - leaving me to sniff the Dani’s Kool Aid scented spit on my upper lip. This time it was cherry.

The next time Dani and I saw each other it was at the bus stop located in front of the post-office where we first met. Both of our mothers were there chatting as though nothing had happened, while Dani and I simply stood silent. At one point, her mother noticed we were not chasing each other around or climbing the posts supporting the overhang in front of the tiny building. “The two of you are unusually quiet.” I’m sure a wink passed from one mother to the next.

The bus finally pulled up and Dani and I climbed aboard. I sat down and Dani took her place on the seat in front of me. Once she was sure our mothers couldn’t see us, Dani turned around and peered over the back of her seat. “My mom says we can’t be boyfriend-girlfriend anymore because we’re too young.” I wasn’t too into the boyfriend/girlfriend business and was somewhat relieved that kissing was removed from the daily to-do list. I was more upset about the sandbox.

We continued to enjoy each other’s company for some time until the day Dani disappeared. Broken families in this small community never seemed to stick around long; however, there was always another mother with children moving in behind the ones moving out. Taking Dani’s sudden disappearance in stride, I continued on.

Many years went by before Dani and I would meet again. I was fresh out of the Navy and starting my first semester at Clarion University when I walked into a fast-food restaurant and noticed the girl who was taking my order had the name “Dani” on her name tag. Curious, I seized the opportunity to strike a conversation. I asked her if she ever lived in Huey, PA.

“Yep. A long time ago.”

I couldn’t hold back the smile crawling across my face; amazed of how puberty had made a shapeless and awkward looking little girl into the curvy woman standing in front of me.

“Do you remember a boy named Jack that lived a few houses down from you?” She thought for a moment, but when she finally recalled the memory - and saw the smile on my face - she turned from the counter in embarrassment and tried her best to avoid me.

Over time, she was able to overcome her embarrassment and reminisce about our time on Coal Miner’s Row and the “romance” we had. I also inquired why she moved away so suddenly.

“I think mom and Jeff broke up and we had to move back in with my grandparents in Knox. I saw you playing in the front yard just before we left that day and asked my mother if I could say good-bye to you. She didn’t let me, and I cried the whole way to Grandma’s.”

We only met a couple of times afterwards before she disappeared, once again, without warning. Still, I think about her occasionally when I visit my grandparents who still live in the small community of Huey, PA. From their porch, I have a full view of Coal Miner’s Row. The post-office has since shut down and was converted into a garden shed before being demolished completely. Dani’s house burned to the ground as did a few others approximately a decade ago. My old home still stands along with a few others - irregularly spaced apart like the teeth in young Dani’s smile.

Favorite Chair

Lewis waited in his chair by the back window; staring to the top of the hill on which his house stood. His ice-blue eyes lit up with the grey, December sky as he mulled over the news he received from the doctor’s visit the day before. Despite the relentless treatments, his prognosis was not good. The doctors were convinced he would be reunited with his dead wife within a couple months.

The gentleman of sixty-eight years spread his hands out over the quilt that covered his lap and considered all of their works, good and bad; only for them to be crossed over his chest or burned to ashes for eternity. "What a waste," he wispered as he returned his gaze to the window.

 After a while, a small blue car pulled into the driveway and Lewis watched the driver’s head sway back and forth as she gathered her things for her visit. The door finally swung open and Michelle emerged with her arms loaded with a large purse, some magazines, and a couple of stuffed grocery bags. Lewis smiled and was amused by the tiny woman carrying the cumbersome load and got up to help her through the door.

“Thanks Lewis. How are we feeling today?” Michelle’s voice rang as she walked through the door and placed her load on the kitchen table.

“I told you not to worry about coming over.”

“I wanted to,” Michelle handed him current issues of his favorite news magazines before taking her scarf and coat off and laying them over a chair. “So what did the doctors say.”

“Well I’m done with treatment.” He placed the magazines on the stand and reclaimed his chair, inviting Michelle to do the same.

“That’s good news, isn’t it?”

“No. It isn’t.” Lewis watched his young friend’s face melt from hope to disappointment. “So I figure we should discuss funeral arrangement's.”

“Shouldn’t your family be a part of this?”

“No. I’m not talking about mine. I want to know what you would have done if you were going to die?”

Michelle looked down to her hands that nervously played with her key-chain. “I don’t know. Maybe just a funeral and a graveside service.”

“I think they would have a rough time finding a casket big enough to hold your personality.” Lewis smiled at his young friend as he replaced the quilt over his lap and smoothed it out with his hands. “I’m thinking cremation.”

 “For me?”

“No. For me; and then have them scattered in the stream just beyond the woods.”

“With your wife’s?” Michelle’s eyes were large and brown; welling with tears.

Lewis’ eyes turned towards the window and were lit by the grey sky again. “Yes. With hers.”

A Difficult Question

either we hide it well
or love only touched one of us
what would it take
for a touch
to be
okay