He Once Loved Chekhov

He Once Loved Chekhov

  By Anne Spackman

  Copyright 2014 by Anne Spackman

  All rights reserved.

  John Jason Grant had a moment, standing there in the emergency room waiting room, during which he was truly scared. He was turning forty-one that year, and was doing his best to stay calm, while his lower right abdomen was in pain.

  He thought back to when he was a young boy.

  In those years, he used to go around collecting leaves, and exploring on his bike out in the woods near his Virginia childhood home. Most of all, he had loved science: astronomy, biology, and chemistry. He would read incessantly, about all kinds of things. He loved to learn. And he knew a lot, and it was a wonder how his mind would absorb information, back then. His suburban Virginia home was peaceful, in the middle of a long cul-de-sac, a bungalow with two golden oak trees on either side of the yard. And they had a sweet collie named Simon that loved to jump up on the couch. And roll around on the blue carpet, and get hair all over it.

  John was a loner, but he had a few good friends, who would come over to play outside and go swimming sometimes in their backyard pool. And they would make BBQ burgers and cheese and chicken sandwiches, and play video games together, sometimes. But John was more often alone in his room, reading, or listening to music, than anywhere outside of school. He had an insect collection, and a live ant farm. He liked spiders, too, and crustaceans on the Virginia beaches. Almost anything with an exoskeleton. He would pick them up and look at them, and try to keep them as pets, before they died in a sealed container with leaves and food he tried to give them.

  John had a telescope he would look through at night to catch a view of the constellations of stars, and he read a lot about astrophysics on his own. He loved to read about and understand how black holes had formed. His favorite food was Thai peanut chicken with green chillies, and he loved skiing during winter vacations, especially up in Vermont. He loved the woods, and listening to the tawny owl hoo-hoo at night.

  When John went to university, he met a lot of people, and shared a room in the dorm. And it was there at university that he discovered Chekhov, among many Russian writers: Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, Turgenev. That first year John and all of his friends went outside and made snow angels in the snow drifts around their dormitory. Then they all went to campus in the dark, in the snow, while big flakes of snow came down, with only strings of lights on the campus trees to illuminate their way. In spring, they had a picnic on the campus grounds, with all kinds of goodies in their baskets. The squirrels were bold and came for the crumbs left behind by John and his friends. John always laughed at the squirrels.

  John worked hard on his studies, and when John graduated, he decided to go straight to work, and not to go for a master’s degree, right away in any event. He always thought that there would be time later for the master’s degree, if he chose to return to school, but he never did.

  John had had his heart broken during his second year in university, but he had recovered in time. It had taken time for his spirits to rise after his first girlfriend had left him, and his grades had suffered temporarily, but not for too long. John had decided he would start running for his health, and had picked up sports to divert his attention away from his heartache. He had also started biking his way to class, which had also saved him time getting to his classes.

  Years had passed, and John now worked a job as an economist. He had lived alone for a while. Then he had got another collie dog named Max. He had gone for years on dinner dates, but had never married, until he was in his mid-thirties. And then he had met Kathy, and had got married. His wife Kathy was only thirty-one.

  They now lived together in a nice two-bedroom apartment in the city, with Max, and her cat, Joey.

  In the years since John had graduated from university, he had changed a lot. He had stopped reading literature, and had let his career become his main focus in life entirely. And he earned a good living. But right then, in the emergency room, as John struggled with the pain in his abdomen, he was thinking of how much he had enjoyed reading “The Seagull” by Chekhov, and of his university friends from long ago, some whom he hadn’t seen in years. Mostly, he recalled days of innocence, and hard work, and thinking that he had all the time in the world.

  “Mr. Grant, next,” the nurse called into the waiting room.

  John went in, and it took Dr. Brown only fifteen minutes to determine that John had appendicitis.

  * * * * *

  John was admitted into the hospital for an emergency appendectomy, and after the procedure was done, John was all right. Since John had undergone non-evasive surgery, he was okay to go home the day of the appendectomy, but he had been lucky—he could have died had he not gone to the hospital when he did.

  Kathy came to take John home, and they had a good night, talking, and hugging, and making Thai peanut chicken together in the kitchen while listening to Chopin. Then John went to have a shower. He sang in the shower, loudly, as he hadn’t done in years. He went to the bookshelf and looked for his copy of “The Seagull”, but he had apparently given it away years ago, so he was obliged to look online and read a free copy of it over the internet that evening. And as he was reading the play, Kathy came in and gave him a hug, and he hugged her back hard.

  “I love you,” he said. She knew he did. John was almost in tears.

  “John, it’s ok, you’ll be ok now.”

  Still, he was starting to weep. She had never seen him cry before.

  “I feel so lucky, so happy, and filled with hope, and some regrets. I guess I should say, I am the luckiest man alive to have you.”

  Kathy smiled at him.

  “I just realized how lucky I am to be alive, and how much love matters. I wish this were a better world, too. I feel strange.”

  “Get some rest, John,” Kathy advised. “You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

  And he did.

  * * * * *

  They took a skiing vacation to Vermont that winter, and John almost broke his leg, but in the end, he was all right—he was very nearly a pro skier, but he had collided with a small tree. John was relatively uninjured, though a bit shaken, by the accident. Kathy was worried when she saw him collide with the tree, but she was relieved when he walked away, seemingly all right.

  “I just hope you’re happy. I want things to be right, to be good.” Said John. “I hope this vacation was a good time for you, Kathy.”

  “Well, I was worried about you for a second there, but I’ve had a great week here.”

  “I have, too. You have a beautiful smile, Kathy.”

  Kathy smiled again. “Thank you.”

  “Time to go. Good-bye, Vermont,” said John. “We will see you again, God willing.”

  * * * * *

  John and Kathy returned to their apartment, and John started going through the book shelves and DVD collection one Sunday afternoon.

  “What are you doing?” asked Kathy.

  “Getting rid of things I don’t need, and donating them to charity. I want to feel more free again. I still want to cherish my favorite books and to keep them, but I’ve realized that I don’t need to own so much. And if I really feel like getting them back someday, I can buy another copy of the books which I miss.”

  Kathy shrugged. “As long as I get to look through what you’re giving away first. I may claim a few things.”

  “O.k.,” said John. “You can do that. I’ll just put them in a pile, and you can review them.”

  “Oh,” said John suddenly.

  “What?”

  “I found my copy of “The Seagull”. It had fallen behind the shelf.”

  “Good!” said Kathy. “Well, whe
n you’re done, we’ve got to do the shopping, and then I’d like to go on a walk in the park.”

  “And I’d like to pick up a class of kung fu, but there wasn’t time to fit it in today. Always wanted to, and never thought I’d have the time. So I’ve called to go to a free trial class next week-end.”

  “Good. That should be fun.” Said Kathy.

  “Should be rough, but I think I can do it.” Said John. He finished up with the books for the time being, and got on his jacket so they could do the shopping and go on a walk in the park. Max clamored to go with them as he saw John picking up the keys.

  “No, Max, you can’t come. Stay, boy, stay.”

  Later, there was an outdoor production of one of Shakespeare’s plays being performed by a local acting company that afternoon in the park, and John and Kathy stopped to watch it for a while.

  “I don’t recognize the play,” said John.

  “Me, either,” said Kathy.

  “John, I understand that you are going through something right now. I want you to know that I am here in case you need me and to talk about it.”

  “Thanks, Kathy, I appreciate that.” Said John. “But I think I just need time to sort things out and to re-prioritize some things in my life, things that are still important to me. I feel good, actually. It’s just that it can be a bit painful saying good-bye to some of the memories and discarded dreams one once had.”

  “Wow,” said Kathy. “You are really going through something.”

  “I’ll be fine. You look pretty in that coat.”

  “Thank you,” said Kathy with a smile.

  * * * * *

  John came home from kung-fu feeling great. His muscles were aching, and he immediately went for some aspirin, but he felt really good, mentally and physically.

  “I made you eggplant hummus with vegetables and pita chips,” said Kathy. “Then lobster casserole with rice, and steamed broccoli. I thought I’d go all out tonight. I’ve been watching a cooking channel,” she said and laughed. “You are my victim.”

  “Excellent. I am famished,” said John, coming in from practice. I think I’ll just shower quickly first, and get the sweat off of me. But here,” he said, offering her a bouquet of big daisies which he had been hiding behind his back.

  “Aww, thank you,” said Kathy. “I’ll get a vase. You shower.”

  Ten minutes later, John and Kathy sat down for dinner.

  “No, Max, no,” said John as Max the collie came over and tried to get a bite. He started to whine. “No, Max,” repeated John. Then finally, he got a pita chip and gave it to Max. “All right, boy.” Max made short work of it, and was happy with the treat. He licked his lips, hoping for some more.

  “Delicious. You are spoiling me,” said John. “I think I like it.”

  “How was kung fu?”

  “It’s great. Just the right thing to improve the mind and spirit.”

  “Good. I like it when you’re happy,” said Kathy.

  “Here, I got you a gift,” said Kathy. And she brought him a paper-covered box. “I guess I won’t wait to give it to you. I was at the bookstore today.”

  John shrugged and took the box, and then opened it.

  “A book on the wonders of science, and another on the wonders of nature.”

  “I don’t know why,” said Kathy. “I just thought of you when I saw them.”

  “Well, that was sweet of you,” said John. “I’ll read them this evening.”

  And John got up to put the books on the shelf, for now, to keep the food away from them.

  “Uh-oh.” Said John with a laugh. “Max has stolen the dinner rolls.”

  The End.