Seeking Daylight - Season 1 - Episode 1

Seeking Daylight - Part I - Chapter 2

CHAPTER II

One Man’s Trash

If you happened to know the shortcut through the brush behind old St. Michael’s church, as Louis did, it was just a short ten-minute stroll down Pebble Hill from the Academy to Grandpa Andy’s house, 18 Beach Street. Why it was called Beach Street, Louis could never quite figure. No ocean, lake, or even swimming hole could be found there. Certainly not a white sand beach. Instead, the short, dead-end stub of a road jutted from Flower Lane, lined with its winter-barren red maples.

The home was nestled back off of the street some, nearly hidden completely by the disorderly collection of shrubbery and fruit trees Grandpa called his European garden. Louis wasn’t quite sure what that meant; it always just looked like an untrimmed mess to him. In the spring, the small cottage home all but disappeared into the berry patches and other miscellaneous overgrowth. The exterior walls were a tan plaster, with the wooden beams that supported the home exposed both on the inside of the house and out. Upstairs was a washroom and two small bedrooms, one of which was Grandpa’s, the other a study when Louis wasn’t staying there. The main floor of the small home was just one simple room, but could be used any way you liked. Sometimes it was a library, other times it was a parlor where cards were played, but most times it was simply a cozy place where you could have conversation.

At this particular moment, it was being used for supper, and so a small, round, wooden table and two mismatched chairs had been pulled to its middle, centered on the room’s only piece of carpeting.

 As Louis sat down, he noticed steam beginning to exit the kettle’s spout, first making a muted tone and then quickly letting out a scream. Startled, Grandpa Andy rushed from his seat to silence it, lifting the pot from the stove by its handle.

“Sugar?” Grandpa asked as he reached for two small cups, leaving the saucers behind.

“Yes, please, and a little milk too,” Louis answered.

Grandpa Andy opened the old stocky refrigerator behind him, retrieving the milk and giving it a sniff to check that it hadn’t spoiled. He poured a touch into Louis’ cup, none in his own, and set them on the table. He sat in his chair and rocked backward, inspecting Louis as he took a sip from the steaming cup and smiled before speaking. “Did I ever tell you about the time your father broke his arm?”

“No.” The mere mention of his father stole the smile from Louis’ face just as quickly as it had arrived.

The front legs of Grandpa’s chair returned to the floor as he rested his elbows on the table in front of him and looked directly at Louis, tapping his index finger sharply on the table. “Did it right here, leaning back in this very chair, I think. Leg slipped out from under him and he broke his arm right in two, trying to catch himself from falling.” Grandpa Andy pointed at his forearm midway between his elbow and wrist, to a spot where Louis assumed his father’s arm must have broken.

“Uh huh,” Louis replied, making certain to sound very much unimpressed, hoping Grandpa Andy would get the clue to change the subject.

“Anyhow, we didn’t know he had done it for almost a whole month. He made splints from some wood he found around the house and wrapped it all up himself. Never even noticed it under his shirt.”

Louis looked up from the table, taking another sip from his cup as Grandpa continued.

“That’s just how Tommy was. Didn’t want a lick of help from anyone, no matter what…didn’t need any, if I’m speaking truthfully.”

“I don’t understand,” Louis finally piped up.

“Well, see, when we finally realized what he’d done, your grandma, rest her soul, and I got him right to Doc, of course. Turned out, the bone healed up just fine. That’s what Doc said. It kind of reminds me of that time you nearly got knocked senseless playing…what do you call it? Tackle the Dummy?”