The Swing

The Swing

“How many times do you think I fell off that stupid tire?”

Hanley smiled and wrapped his arm around his sister’s shoulders, “More times than Momma’s nerves could handle.”

Keely giggled, “I sure had her worried, didn’t I?”

“All the time.”

“She didn’t even want Dad to put that swing up.” Keely stretched her fingers, absently rubbing the callused pads over the fraying rope. “She was such a party pooper.”

“She was fun sometimes. When her sickness hid away.”

Eyes misting, Keely looked toward the house. In ten years it hadn’t changed at all. The grey metal siding still warped in all the same places, the black shingles still curled upwards beside the brick chimney. The porch still leaned to the left, the concrete cracked and deteriorating. The shutters were still faded, peeling, the lime green paint chipping and cracking. “I hate that paint.”

Hanley agreed, “That green is horrendous. But Momma liked it.”

“It made her smile when Dad first painted it.”

“Yeah. And Dad wanted to do whatever he could to earn that smile.”

Keely leaned into her brother’s strong body, relaxing into the bench they shared. “Have you seen Dad yet?”

Resting his chin on the top of her head, Hanley shook his head, “Aunt Sherry says he’s still got himself locked in that room.”

“Do you think he’ll be okay, Hanley?”

He didn’t respond immediately. Keely waited, measuring his breathing. She knew he was crying, she could feel the vibration of the sobs in his chest. It was okay. She’d done her share of crying on the drive over. She knew she’d have to be strong. She might let a few tears slip now and then, but she wouldn’t break down again.

“I can’t believe she was so selfish.” Hanley’s voice strained, his hand tightened into a fist. “I can’t believe she did this!”

Fifteen years earlier:

“Keely, get your shoes off! You know better than that! What am I going to do with you, girl?”

Keely kicked her shoes off, directing them towards the pile of other shoes heaping on a small rug behind the door. “I’m sorry, Momma. I forgot.”

“You’d forget your damned brain if it weren’t locked in your skull. You got one, use it.”

“I’m sorry, Momma.” Keeping her eyes downcast, Keely muttered her apologies as she made her way across the room and into the safety of her bedroom. Even after she quietly shut the door, she could still hear her mother chattering her disapproval.

“Damned girl, thinks she owns the place. Can’t even remember the simple rules. It doesn‘t matter what I do or what I say, they all just look at me like I‘m crazy.”

With a sigh, Keely shrugged out of her backpack and took out her homework. She didn’t quite understand her Algebra homework. She’d have to wait until Hanley got home from football practice to ask him for help.

She settled herself into the window seat and pulled out the book she was reading for English. Unmotivated she stared out the window. This was her favorite place in the house to sit. From here, she could see the land that stretched out behind the house. She loved the trees, so big and strong, leaning over the house like protective hands. The field beyond was open and filled with wildflowers of every color. In the spring she spent hours in the midst of them. It was the peacefulness that drew her. She loved laying on the ground, even though it was lumpy, listening to the bees and watching the clouds.

“What the hell are you doing with that tire, George?” Her mother’s shrill voice grabbed her attention and she sat still, hoping the outburst wouldn't escalate.

“It’s a swing.”

Keely jumped from the lightly padded seat and ran to her door, flinging it open and taking two steps out of her room before she remembered she wasn’t supposed to run in the house. She looked around, waiting to see if she’d be caught but when she heard the screen door slam, she knew she was safe. She followed her mom out into the yard to see what her father was doing.

“It isn’t a swing, it’s a tire. And, it‘s nasty. It won‘t work.”

“I’m making it a swing, Susie Q! Keely will love it.” Keely’s father, George, swung the tire with one arm, back and forth in front of him. “And maybe you’ll like it too. Every country family should have a swing.”

Waiting, Keely watched her mother from behind. The hunch of her shoulders said she didn’t approve. Keely hoped there wouldn’t be a fight; she wanted that swing. All her friends had swings. Besides, they were fighting more and more these days. Her mother would shut herself up in the bedroom and cry for hours.

She cried over everything - gray hairs, acne, dirty dishes. She screamed and threw tantrums. But the worst was when she didn’t do anything at all. For days on end she would sit, her hair greasy and straggling, her eyes dark and tired. She wouldn’t speak, wouldn’t eat, didn’t cry. She just sat, staring off into space as if she were waiting for something. Keely hated when she got like that.

“George.” Susan whined, “She’s just going to get hurt on that swing.”

“Now, Susie, we aren’t going to argue about this, are we? A tiny thing like a swing for our daughter?”

Keely smiled to herself. Her father had a way about him, that was for sure. When no one else could get through to Susie, he could. “Momma?”

Susan jumped, took a second to recover, and then turned to face her daughter, “I didn’t know you were out here, Keely.”

“Momma?”

“What?”

“Can we please have the swing?”

It was instantaneous. Her mother’s lips curled, her eyes narrowed. “Are ya ganging up on me? Think if you say please that I’ll give in and give you whatever you want? Well that’s fine! I’m always wrong, ain’t I?” Her last words were said into the wind, screeching as she turned on her heel and headed back to the house.

Keely dropped her head, her eyes stinging. She shouldn't have opened her mouth at all. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

Strong hands settled on her shoulders, “Keely, girl, don’t you be sorry. It ain’t your fault.” His finger tickled her chin as he forced her eyes to meet his, “She’s sick, girl, she don’t know what she’s saying. She does love you though. You know she does. She just doesn’t know how to be happy anymore.”

“Is she always going to be sick, Daddy?” Keely’s voice cracked and her tears flowed freely.

“I don’t know, girl. We just have to love her as much as we can, even when she‘s sick. I hope someday, she’ll get better.” He wiped her tears away, “Dry them up, baby girl, they won’t do you no good. Besides, you can’t help me put up this swing if you’re wallowing.”

They worked into the evening, tying the new length of rope around different tree limbs until they found the perfect one. Keely giggled as her father gave her the first push, sending her into the air. She loved the way the air picked up her hair, pushed it away from her face. Holding on tight, she laughed softly as she flew higher and higher. At the top of her arc, she flung her hands out and for just a brief second, she felt free of the world.

That night, Keely listened as her mother cried her way through dinner. It was some kind of depression; that’s what the doctors all said. They even had medicine you could take for it, but her Mom wouldn’t take it. Keely wanted desperately to have her mom back, just for a moment, the way she’d been when Keely was little.

After doing the dishes and getting help from Hanley on her math homework, Keely stared out the window, watching the swing dance in the light breeze. “Momma?”

“Yes, Keely?”

“Do you want to swing with me?”

“Only for a minute.”

Keely turned and stared, disbelieving. “Really?”

“Well of course, who doesn’t like to swing?”

They went outside together, and she reached for her mother’s hand as they walked across the yard. When she didn’t pull away, Keely gave her hand a gentle squeeze, “You can go first, Momma.”

Keely waited patiently as Susan settled herself in the swing and once she had given the okay, Keely gave her a push. Soon, her mother’s golden hair was flying, her tiny hands wrapped around the rope, “Higher, Keely, higher!” And she laughed.

Back in the Present:

“I don’t think she meant to hurt anyone.”

“But she did. And as usual, she left us to clean up the mess. I hate her, Keely, I really hate her.” Hanley sobbed, his body convulsing with each strangled breath, “It isn’t right what she did to Dad. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive her.”

Keely knew the feeling. She’d been angry at first too. But if anyone understood, she knew, it was her. “She was sick, Hanley. In that moment, she was really, really sick.”

Shaking his head, Hanley stood, turning his back to her, “I don’t care how sick she was, I’ll never forgive her.” He stormed into the house, leaving Keely alone on the little bench.

With a sigh and a heavy heart, Keely stood and looked up into the tree. The second rope hanging beside the swing had been cut, allowing the emergency personnel to try to save her mother. No one knew why she’d hung herself here, in the middle of the yard, next to the swing, except Keely.

It was the freedom. It was the feel of the breeze in her hair. It was the laughter and the sunshine. It didn’t really make sense at all, and yet, Keely understood. Slowly, she lowered herself into the tire, her heart picking up speed in anticipation. With a cry, she pushed herself off the ground and pumped her legs. She waited until she was soaring before stretching her arms out beside the tire and closing her eyes. Back and forth she went, leaving behind reality.

Inside the house, her father and brother sat on the edge of Susan’s bed. Hanley cried as his father explained the consequences of his mother’s attempted suicide. She’d never walk again, never talk again. She’d cut off the oxygen for too long, crushed her vocal cords. There was nothing else they could do; she was lucky to be alive.

Knowing his earlier words had been spoken out of anger, and feeling guilty, Hanley clung to his mother’s hand, tears dripping off his chin. “Momma, I’m so sorry.”

She squeezed. He looked up, surprised she had acknowledged his presence. When he met her eyes, she looked away. He waited. She looked back at him, then slowly away, towards the window. He eyes followed hers and for a moment, he stopped breathing.

Keely was flying. Higher and higher she went, her dark hair fluttering in the wind as she kicked her feet. She was unaware of their watchful eyes, unaware of anything but herself and the swing. Keely was laughing.

His chest tightened and he bent to kiss his mother’s forehead; it was time he started the journey to forgiving her. He stopped, joy momentarily paralyzing him.

As she watched Keely through the dingy glass, his mother was smiling.

Written for: Short Shots October 2010
Word Count: 1910