tired

by

Trying to Stop Failure (aka “Mourning Dove”)

Trying to Stop Failure
(aka “Mourning Dove”)
By Miles Rost

Part 4 of Mayumi’s story

Months had passed by since the last time Mayumi Shiomi had left her job at Shine FM and went to a competitor. She waited a month, and in that time had great development in her personal life. With one exception…

The men that she had in her life sucked.

She had gone for a good two to three months without even dealing with such an issue, and she was getting better at staying away from situations, but the last guy she met just took her by surprise and she fell, very hard, in love. And got hurt in the interim.

She just broke up with another guy who wanted to use her and abuse her. After the night of their last date, she cried herself to sleep asking for things to finally just stop. That she didn’t want a relationship anymore, and that she needed some “me-time”.

She woke up the next morning, and looked at herself in the mirror. The short sandy brown hair that she used to have had grown a little longer in the months preceding. It was now down to her shoulders, but constantly tied up in a ponytail. She looked a slight bit older than her age, but she didn’t think much of it.

“Ah feel like crap right now,” she muttered to her reflection, “I have no clue what to do, how to deal with all these problems with men. Why…why do I attract that type of man?”

She changed out of her pajamas and put herself under the hot water of a long shower. She thought about where things went wrong, and where in her past was the catalyst for the change she had to deal with constantly. She turned on the waterproof radio that hung in the shower, and tuned it to her new station, Power FM 87. She knew that her show would be on in about 3 hours, and that before that was a great smooth jazz show by her newest friend, Mitzi.

“…and later this week, Larry Carlton will be in Melbourne, playing a 5 date set at Bennets Lane. Here’s a great one from him, going back a few years. This is Mourning Dove, on the Smooth Move show, here on Power FM!”

The start of the music shot into Mayumi’s heart like a needle into a vein. The soft keyboard and the beginning strains of the artist’s guitar nailed the feelings she felt at that time. She was mourning. Mourning her own problems with men, with falling a step behind again, and feeling lower than normal. She just stood under the steady and hard stream of water, as she started drifting into memories.

As the saxophone and guitars harmonized and carried her away, she looked back to the age of 10. She remembered seeing her own father, a man who she barely ever saw in later years. She saw the memory she had of him, smacking her mom around. She remembered him grabbing her mom’s arm and muscling her towards the bedroom. She remembered hearing the sounds, and running to her hiding place in the far part of the basement.

“Is this what ah’m running from?” she asked her 10 year old self, in her mind, “Is this why ah get the men I do?”

Her 10 year old memory looked back at her, saying nothing but showing her a glimpse of what may have happened to give her the perpetual bad luck with men.

She let the music carry her to another part of her mind, the water relaxing her to the point where she could do much more with her soul, mind, and body.

“Lord, ah think we know why things are the way they are,” she said, in a prayerful tone, “Ah’m dealing with the ghosts of the past, and it’s time that we work together on this. Ah wanna be free, and ah know you love me enough to want me to be free. Ah can’t do this alone, and ah have to give it up to you everyday.”

The song’s warm yet sad tones bled across her mind, the prayers she was sending infused with the music’s energy. She had never prayed as hard as she did at that moment, with hot water hitting her tired and stressed out shoulders.

“Father, help me address this problem. The image of my father, ah need to move on from it. Father, help me as ah do what I need to do.”

She kept praying, the water pouring over her hair like a waterfall. She didn’t know what effect her prayer would be, but she realized that she would eventually need to let everything go in a way.

As the song ended and a new smooth jazz song came on, she started her ritual of cleaning, getting ready for work. She felt lighter, but she didn’t know what would happen next.

 

by

After All

by Miles Rost

He walked down the street, small rolling suitcase following behind him like a stray puppy dog looking for an owner. He was despondent, and tired, but he had to get to his destination. So he kept on walking.

He was close to his destination, when he looked over at a bus stop. Normally, a bus stop wouldn’t inspire any sort of pause for him, but the plexiglass and metal frame, with a bench and transit computer inside, immediately shot a memory into his head, sending him backwards a moment.

His mind carried to the forefront a memory of a woman that he gave his heart to. The image of him on a cold winter’s evening, holding her from behind, overlayed his vision of the now-empty bus stop. His vision filled with the warm feelings on his face as he nestled it next to hers. He played the role that night, of the knight in armor bright, faithful and true.

He continued to look at the bus stop, and he saw the moment where things went south. The vision of himself and his beautiful young woman, having a battle of major proportions there at that bus stop. He didn’t even remember what it was about, it was so long ago. All he saw was the fight that they had, and how the tears that flowed from her eyes broke his heart even now. He knew he made a mistake, but there was nothing he could do about it.

In a moment’s blink, the bus stop returned to it’s empty state, with a bus pulling away from it and roaring down the street. In his heart, he felt the hole in his heart. It was always there, ever since that day, but there was nothing he could do to fill it. All he could do is let time heal his wounds.

He started walking again, slowly, as he approached his destination. He went to the counter, and the Korean woman asked him where he wanted to go.

“Busan,” he said. After a moment, and a swipe of his card, he received his tickets and went downstairs to the departing buses. He took up a seat on a bench near where his bus was, and he just looked around.

Twenty minutes passed by before his bus to Busan pulled in and started loading passengers. As he walked up towards the door, he took a look back at the terminal and saw a blonde-haired figure standing far back, looking at him from a distance. He tried to see if it was her, but he couldn’t see her face. After a few second and a blinking of his eyes, she was gone.

He put his suitcase under the bus and got on board. As the bus pulled away, he looked at the terminal and the city surrounding it. He sighed, knowing that his time was finished and he was moving on. He wished that he didn’t have to go. He wanted to be the one to hold her in his arms. Yet, he knew it could never happen.

He would never know if he could love anyone else again, and as he traveled in silence towards the eastern coast and a ferry that would transport him to his new home, tears started to flow down his face.