Brother Bushranger’s Inkpot

by Charles C. Cole

Even when others were being furloughed due to the struggling economy, Brother Bushranger was guaranteed work. BB had lost the use of both of his legs in a vehicle accident while en route to a call with the volunteer firefighters. For BB’s profound service, Mayor Jimmy Considine, with the backing of the town council, awarded BB a lifelong free room in the municipal poor house, so long as he spent a minimum of twenty hours a week transcribing the life stories of his fellow residents.

Elspeth Williams found wheelchair-enabled BB on the back deck after breakfast, smoking a cigarette. Elspeth had lost her home the same day BB had lost use of his legs. An electrical fire in an uninsured home and no living relatives had led to Elspeth’s extended residence. Today was Elspeth’s 80th birthday. She wanted, deserved, a present, even if it was just the attention of a young man for an hour’s conversation.

“Is this a good time?” asked Elspeth.

“New writing assignment, eh? I usually do reservations-only. Let me finish this,” said BB. He stubbed his cigarette out in his crumb-filled dessert plate. “The only fire I get to extinguish these days. Contrary to what the social worker thinks, I’m convinced I light the damn things just for the fun of snuffing them out.” He waved his hand through the lingering smoke.

“What’s it like?” asked Elspeth.

“Smoking or not having the use of my legs?”

“Smoking. I’m turning eighty today, and I’ve never had a vice my whole life.”

“That sounds like an interesting story.”

“Do you feel like a rebel? Is it freeing?”

“Take it from me,” joked BB, “it’s never too late to take a walk, or roll, on the wild side. Everyone thinks your flirting with death, but you know you’re actually the bravest person in the room. Hence the subtle thrill.”

“Ah. I’m a self-proclaimed creature of habit, you see. Have been since I was a child. Maybe next year then,” balked Elspeth.

“Fair enough. Pull up a seat, and I’ll boot up my laptop,” said BB, reaching into a storage pocket under his right arm. Elspeth remained standing, staring.

“Sweetie, I’m not going to bite,” said BB. “I’m plumb full of breakfast. And it’d be bad for business: the mayor and his merry goons would probably kick me out.”

Elspeth sat, back straight and knees together, primly, without pulling the chair a scooch closer to the table. She glanced about to make sure they were alone.

BB opened a blank Word document, his fingers hovering above the keyboard like a concert pianist prepared to start his opening number.

“May I ask a few questions before we start?” asked Elspeth.

“Shoot.” He relaxed.

“Will anyone read this?”

“Not if you don’t want them to. I think of it, mostly, as a way of saying: ‘I was here, dammit. And my life mattered.’ That sort of thing.”

“You have such a colorful way of speaking. Were you homeschooled?”

“No, ma’am. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Why am I here?” she asked.

“You could also use this to organize your thoughts. To remember a wonderful memory that maybe you’re afraid of forgetting. Like that. It’s entirely up to you.”

Elspeth sighed and began. “When I was nineteen and away at college, I gave my baby girl up for adoption. The dean could have kicked me out or told my parents, but she knew the circumstances were none of my doing.”

“Miss Elspeth, this sounds like a private matter. Should I be writing this down?”

“Maybe you can type it into your fancy computer and save it, but not print it or share it with anyone. So if, one day, she shows up looking for me, to learn the facts of the matter, and I’m no longer here, you can give this to her.”

“I’m going to start now,” said BB.

“I was away from home for the first time, lonely and shy.”

“What year was this?”

“Is that important?” said Elspeth.

“Not to me. Go on. please.”

“I had a scholarship and I was on the Dean’s List. Do you know what that is?”

“It means you were a good student who got excellent grades.”

Anyway, when summer came, there was no work for me at home; we lived in a small town. And my parents had given my room to my sister. Rather than pay to travel back and forth, I got a job in the library on campus. It was very popular with the locals.

One night we closed early because the county was having fireworks. As I was walking back to my dorm, this fellow followed me in his pickup. He was flirting and joking and a little drunk. When I went up the front steps of my dorm, he waved, yelled something, and drove off. I thought he was done with me.

As I was closing the door behind me, he stuck his boot in the opening. My eyes must have got as big as saucers because he says, “Don’t panic, darling. All that flirting with you, and I completely lost track of my bodily functions. I just need to use the boys’ restroom and I’ll be on my way. I’d go behind a bush, but the campus police might have me arrested. You wouldn’t want that.”

I led him to my room where he... attacked me. He thanked me afterward, for not crying. I never saw him again, nor did any other boy ever follow me home. I could have dismissed it as a daydream but for... what followed. I don’t know what I would have done if the dean hadn’t taken care of me.

BB shook his head trying to shake free the unexpected dark images. “I’m sorry.”

“Water under the bridge, but I never let it go. Maybe I can after today.” She glanced at his watch. “I promised Bernice we’d play cards. Thank you, BB, for being a polite listener.”

Proceed to Challenge 936...