Pain's Joke, Page 3
Chuck Hunter
Chapter 3
The Wednesday morning air was warmer and more humid than what was usual for a day in mid June. The weatherman on Channel 3 said it would rain over night, but it hadn’t. The coming front was moving slower than expected. The sky was overcast, the wind was picking up, and the leaves of the trees were turned upward, begging God to quench their thirst. It would rain, but not for a few hours.
Jonas woke up before the sun. Paul was filling his thermos with coffee, and Dolores was still in the shower when Jonas shuffled into the kitchen, yawning.
“You better get dressed, boy. Your momma’s taking off part of work today. You got another doctor’s appointment.”
Not quite awake yet, Jonas heard him but didn’t acknowledge him. He opened the fridge door and briefly stood motionless in his underpants, squinting from the bright light. He scratched his behind and yawned, then half-heartedly removed a gallon of milk from the top shelf and shut the door with his foot. Placing the milk on the table next to the cereal box and empty bowl his mother set for him, he asked, “Why do I gotta go to the doctor’s again, I just went on Monday.”
“I dunno, ask your mom. I’m running late. Tell her I’ll see her when I get home.” Paul placed the thermos in the lid of the large, black, plastic lunchbox and latched it. He quickly shoved each arm into his dark blue, short-sleeved shirt. It had a patch with his name on it above the left breast pocket. He snatched the keys from the plaque on the wall above the phone, and he left for work.
Jonas stared into the empty bowl as Paul walked out the front door. He heard him start the truck and rev the engine a few times, and when the loud muffler was far enough down the street that it could no longer be heard, Jonas poured a mountain of Count Chocula into his bowl and drowned it in milk. Jonas’ spoon clinked against the bowl when he shoveled a heaping portion of crunchy, sugary, chocolatey goodness into his waiting mouth. A drop of milk fell from his pursed lips as he chewed the cereal in his bulging cheeks like a cow chewing its cud. After a few minutes of clinking and crunching, Dolores rushed into the kitchen sporting a bathrobe and a terrycloth beehive.
“Morning, baby,” she said as she kissed him on top of his head. “You better hurry up with that cereal, I gotta take you to Sellarsville to see Dr. Cunningham.” She quickly poured a cup of coffee and rushed back down the hall into the bedroom.
All of the morning commotion meant nothing to Jonas. To him, summertime mornings were carefree times. There were cartoons to watch and trees to climb. Summertime was definitely not meant for appointments, especially doctor’s appointments. Nonetheless, he finished his cereal and left the empty bowl, the half-empty cereal box, and the gallon of milk sitting on the table when he walked backed to his bedroom to get dressed.
While dressing, he wondered why he had to return to the doctor’s office at the hospital. They took some measurements and x-rays of his jaw when he was there Monday. When Dr. Cunningham asked him whether it was giving him any pain, he replied, “Nope.” and left it at that.
The rain finally came while Dolores and Jonas were driving North to Sellarsville. The curves on Interstate 77 became dangerous, and Dolores slowed down to fifty five miles per hour instead of the posted sixty five.
“Momma, what’s the doctor want to see me for?”
Dolores turned off the radio, leaving the car silent except for the ticks of rain on the roof and the squeal of the wipers against the windshield. “Jonas, the doctor took those measurements of your jaw on Monday, and now he wants to tell us what they all mean.”
“Is it gonna go away or does he wanna cut on me?”
“I don’t know. We’ll have to see what the doctor says, baby.”
After a few moments of silence, Jonas asked, “Is it ever gonna be like normal?”
A tear formed in the corners of her eye. She blinked, sniffed, and sighed in order to fight away the tears. “I don’t know, baby.”
“Cuz in church, pastor talked about Jesus healing a crippled man. Maybe he can heal me, too.”
“Stop, Jonas. Just stop, okay?”
“What?”
“Jonas, honey, that story was in the Bible as an example of how we’re supposed to have faith. It wasn’t meant to... I mean, Jesus may have healed him, but…well, when was the last time you saw anybody walking around Allardale healing people?” She looked over and saw the puzzled look on his face. “Oh, you’ll understand when you get older, baby.”
She wiped her nose with a tissue from her purse and turned the radio on, and the sound of rain on the windows and Faith Hill filled the silence. Jonas peered through the streaks in the side window at a wet, miserable vulture, wings spread, hopping and pecking at the relatively fresh meat of a doe who had lost a race with a semi truck the night before.
The Wednesday morning air was warmer and more humid than what was usual for a day in mid June. The weatherman on Channel 3 said it would rain over night, but it hadn’t. The coming front was moving slower than expected. The sky was overcast, the wind was picking up, and the leaves of the trees were turned upward, begging God to quench their thirst. It would rain, but not for a few hours.
Jonas woke up before the sun. Paul was filling his thermos with coffee, and Dolores was still in the shower when Jonas shuffled into the kitchen, yawning.
“You better get dressed, boy. Your momma’s taking off part of work today. You got another doctor’s appointment.”
Not quite awake yet, Jonas heard him but didn’t acknowledge him. He opened the fridge door and briefly stood motionless in his underpants, squinting from the bright light. He scratched his behind and yawned, then half-heartedly removed a gallon of milk from the top shelf and shut the door with his foot. Placing the milk on the table next to the cereal box and empty bowl his mother set for him, he asked, “Why do I gotta go to the doctor’s again, I just went on Monday.”
“I dunno, ask your mom. I’m running late. Tell her I’ll see her when I get home.” Paul placed the thermos in the lid of the large, black, plastic lunchbox and latched it. He quickly shoved each arm into his dark blue, short-sleeved shirt. It had a patch with his name on it above the left breast pocket. He snatched the keys from the plaque on the wall above the phone, and he left for work.
Jonas stared into the empty bowl as Paul walked out the front door. He heard him start the truck and rev the engine a few times, and when the loud muffler was far enough down the street that it could no longer be heard, Jonas poured a mountain of Count Chocula into his bowl and drowned it in milk. Jonas’ spoon clinked against the bowl when he shoveled a heaping portion of crunchy, sugary, chocolatey goodness into his waiting mouth. A drop of milk fell from his pursed lips as he chewed the cereal in his bulging cheeks like a cow chewing its cud. After a few minutes of clinking and crunching, Dolores rushed into the kitchen sporting a bathrobe and a terrycloth beehive.
“Morning, baby,” she said as she kissed him on top of his head. “You better hurry up with that cereal, I gotta take you to Sellarsville to see Dr. Cunningham.” She quickly poured a cup of coffee and rushed back down the hall into the bedroom.
All of the morning commotion meant nothing to Jonas. To him, summertime mornings were carefree times. There were cartoons to watch and trees to climb. Summertime was definitely not meant for appointments, especially doctor’s appointments. Nonetheless, he finished his cereal and left the empty bowl, the half-empty cereal box, and the gallon of milk sitting on the table when he walked backed to his bedroom to get dressed.
While dressing, he wondered why he had to return to the doctor’s office at the hospital. They took some measurements and x-rays of his jaw when he was there Monday. When Dr. Cunningham asked him whether it was giving him any pain, he replied, “Nope.” and left it at that.
The rain finally came while Dolores and Jonas were driving North to Sellarsville. The curves on Interstate 77 became dangerous, and Dolores slowed down to fifty five miles per hour instead of the posted sixty five.
“Momma, what’s the doctor want to see me for?”
Dolores turned off the radio, leaving the car silent except for the ticks of rain on the roof and the squeal of the wipers against the windshield. “Jonas, the doctor took those measurements of your jaw on Monday, and now he wants to tell us what they all mean.”
“Is it gonna go away or does he wanna cut on me?”
“I don’t know. We’ll have to see what the doctor says, baby.”
After a few moments of silence, Jonas asked, “Is it ever gonna be like normal?”
A tear formed in the corners of her eye. She blinked, sniffed, and sighed in order to fight away the tears. “I don’t know, baby.”
“Cuz in church, pastor talked about Jesus healing a crippled man. Maybe he can heal me, too.”
“Stop, Jonas. Just stop, okay?”
“What?”
“Jonas, honey, that story was in the Bible as an example of how we’re supposed to have faith. It wasn’t meant to... I mean, Jesus may have healed him, but…well, when was the last time you saw anybody walking around Allardale healing people?” She looked over and saw the puzzled look on his face. “Oh, you’ll understand when you get older, baby.”
She wiped her nose with a tissue from her purse and turned the radio on, and the sound of rain on the windows and Faith Hill filled the silence. Jonas peered through the streaks in the side window at a wet, miserable vulture, wings spread, hopping and pecking at the relatively fresh meat of a doe who had lost a race with a semi truck the night before.
