The Jacket

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My hot tears streamed down my chilled cheeks. Not even the late fall cold could cool the burning hurt within that spilled out from me.

Disclaimer: This is fiction. All the characters and events portrayed here are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely accidental and unintentional. I as the author reserves all rights. Hey Everyone I did get this finished but at the last minute. I'm afraid that is pretty much unedited or proofread, but here it is! Happy Thanksgiving Enjoy!

The Jacket

By

Grover

My hot tears streamed down my chilled cheeks. Not even the late fall cold could cool the burning hurt within that spilled out from me. The thick cover of fallen leaves rustled underfoot stole the sounds of my footfalls as I blindly stumbled along.

I hadn’t meant for my emotions to go running away with me, but everything was just going so wrong. I didn’t know what to do and everything I did turned out so horrible they only made things worse.

Every Thanksgiving my family makes the trip to the country to our grandparents. A real oddity these days, but both sets, maternal and fraternal, lived right next to each other. That was how my mom and dad met. You know the whole childhood sweethearts thing.

Okay, maybe not as next door as most people think of it, because they were really in the country. There was a mile or more between their homes and my two brothers and I was often told of how mom and dad was running back and forth between them. They use to be farms, but as my grandparents got older, they rented out the fields to others.

Long time friends and neighbors, my grandparents traded off which of their homes would host for the holidays. When Grandma Smith died, my Grandpa and Grandma Jones insisted, Grandpa Smith and the rest of the family spend the holidays with them.

It was always this huge thing with hordes of Aunts, Uncles, and all their wives, husbands and kids. The air was filled with chaos and excitement. Typically, the men folk would adjourn to the great room to watch TV, while the women would gather in the kitchen and dining room for cooking and gossiping.

Now my brothers and male cousins were as rowdy a bunch as any and worse than most. They stayed as far away from anyone who knew the word, NO, as they could, but once the Game came on would cluster around the TV with my Dad and Uncles.

None of that appealed to me so I helped with the chopping, peeling and other mindless chores in the kitchen. Minding the younger kids never bothered me so I also kept an eye on them while enjoying the fringe benefits of helping cook. There was always bowls and spatulas with cake or cookie batter dripping from them that needed a good licking before going to the sink to be washed.

This year was different. Like it or not I was ordered to the other end of the house. Already this year had been a tough one for me. I’d been caught red handed wearing some of my mom’s things, but other than wanting to die from embarrassment no one said anything. I wasn’t punished either. Well not from my parents anyways.

My brothers were entirely another story. They were the reason why I’d been discovered to start with. Any privacy with those two around was a complete impossibility, but I couldn’t help myself and took the chance anyways. In return, I was mercilessly teased which didn’t help matters at all.

The one attempt I did make to try to explain to my folks what I was feeling was another failure. Again I wasn’t punished but was told calmly that I was just going though a phase and once I matured more I would grow out of it. That was not what I wanted to hear, but I understood what it all meant. No one was going to help me and I was left to deal with my unusual desires all by myself, just absolutely peachy keen!

So I found myself sitting with my dad and the rest of the males of the family while they slowly filled the room with cigar and pipe smoke. Miserable, I curled myself into a tight ball nearest the largest draft of fresh air I could find. Although they tried to make me feel welcome, their joking and rough humor made me feel even more out of place.

Finally unable to take it anymore, I muttered something about getting some air and left heading for the old fashioned styled porch that nearly wrapped around the whole house. I’d no sooner taken a deep breath of the chilly fall air, when I spied my brothers and a gaggle of cousins hiding out around the corner no doubt doing something forbidden. Hearing their snickers, and rude laughs, I knew they’d blabbed my secret.

Unthinking my feet threw me off the steps and I landed on the hard frozen ground running. Even as I ran, their cruel laughter cut at me. Burning, my lungs begged me to stop, but I couldn’t. Somehow I had to escape the shame, hurts and my impossible wants and needs.

Unseen under the thick coverage of autumn leaves a root caught my foot and I fell sprawling onto the musty ground. Breathing hard, it seemed even colder now and the heavy overcast above drifted lower. Every tear on my face bit and stung in the chilling breeze and yet still I cried. I cried for all the desires I felt and didn’t understand. I cried for the fuzzy hair growing on my chin and my changing voice. I cried for the softness and breasts that I wasn’t growing. I cried for wrongness of it all beneath the bare trees and the whispering wind.

The terrible hot tears fell and fell, but even I couldn’t weep forever. At last I stopped, and all that was left was a numb and empty shell like feeling. The cold that I’d ignored for so long caused me to shiver as I wiped at my icy face.

Shakily, I pull myself up, looking for the way back. I found my panicked trail hidden by the carpet of soft dead leaves. Starting to feel a little frightened, I hugged myself as my breath frosted in front of me.

Not entirely sure which way to go, I began to walk. When I saw the first snowflake falling I simply stopped and stared at it. Spiraling down from the low overcastted sky more soon followed it. Falling thickly, the white veil turned my uncertainty into full blown fear.

The snow devoured the already dim light turning the dim afternoon into murky evening and I knew I was in real trouble. Wishing, I’d grabbed a jacket before my mad run, I shivered brushing off the snow from my sweater. I was afraid I was utterly and truly lost. As serious as that was, I had the silly concern over ruining everyone else’s Thanksgiving, even that of my no-good so-and-so brothers.

The frozen stuff quickly carpeted the leaves in white and my footsteps were making that crunching, squeaking sound.

“Well Hello! What are you doing out here on a night like this?” a voice said surprisingly close.

Looking around startled I saw a woman walking towards me. Relief warmed me. “It’s not night yet.” I replied trying to keep my teeth from chattering.

She unlike me was dressed for the weather with a heavy jacket with a thick sweater underneath. “What were you thinking child? You must be freezing. Your parents must be so worried. Where are they?”

“The Jones are my grandparents. We’re visiting for the Holidays,” I chattered, shivering with the cold.

Taking off her own warm coat she put it around me. “Here, I’m dressed for this. I know them. Their place isn’t far. We’ll be able to make it easy.

I did notice she started leading me in a different direction from the one I’d been heading. “Thank you,” I muttered grateful for the warmth and protection from the cold wind as I shoved my ice cold hands into the deep warm pockets. Inside one, I felt paper or something, so I carefully snuggle my hand against the warmest part of the deep pockets. I didn’t want to ruin anything, but my chilled appendages loved the cozy respite.

Guiding me by the shoulder she smiled at me through the falling snow. “I grew up in these parts and you have to keep an eye on the weather before rushing out. Now dear, let’s come on and get you home.”

It was like walking in another world, one that faded into an all consuming white. However my guide had no problems finding her way. Cheerful she pointed out animals foraging for food or some unusual plant.

Despite myself and my fears, I found that comforting. By the time the lights of my Grandparents house glowed softy in the falling snow, my mood had improved.

Part of me didn’t want this to end. Although she hadn’t said so, I thought she’d simply accepted me as me. With so much going wrong in my life, that was a priceless gift.

Thinking about how far we’d come I looked behind us, and my thoughts froze. There was only one set of tracks; just mine, only mine. Not so much as a footprint from my companion.

With the wane light and the cold, I hadn’t been able to see her face clearly but now in the light from my grandparents’ house time slowed.

It was a face of a young woman. However her eyes were much more familiar. They had a warmth and had a depth to them that spoke of wisdom. The same eyes that had for years had watched me grow up and I’d seen before if only in old photographs.

“Grandma Smith?” I whispered in complete disbelief.

She turned to me nodding with a smile.

“B-but, but you’re d-di-died.” I stuttered trying not to panic.

Carefully she nodded again as if not to startle me anymore than I was already.

“Are y-you a ghost?” I stammered out.

“I’m afraid so, dear.” Grandma said softly.

Part of me wanted to run to that light shining though the falling snow where it was warm, toasty, and without such things like ghosts. But another desired nothing more to throw myself into those arms because I’d missed her so much. From the time I’d been nothing but a baby I’d called her Nan Nan that was short for Nanny from the time she used to baby-sit me. Of all of my family she’d always reached out to me, somehow understanding even before I did that I was different.

Something broke inside of me. “Nan Nan,” I whispered feeling as brittle as the snow drifting to the ground around us. “It hurts so much.”

My grandmother simply held me. “I know dear. I know.”

Her hug somehow made my pain fade enough so I could begin to think again. “Err.. Nan Nan if you’re a ghost, how come I can touch you?” I asked.

She brushed snow from my hair. “Love hon. Don’t you know nothing is more powerful? It can do the impossible. Like tonight, when I felt you out here all alone needing me so very badly.”

A lump welled up in my throat, “Can you help me?” I could only whisper.

Nan Nan squeezed me tight. “I’ll do what I can dear, but I don’t have a magic wand that I can wave and make everything right. However I can tell you running away isn’t the answer.”

“I know.” Hiding in the warmth of her arms, I replied softy.

Lifting my chin to see into my eyes, she said, “You need to go back inside. I know your brothers are a pair of ruffians. They always have been, but your parents do love you. They just don’t want to deal with this because it is something they don’t understand.”

Hopeless tears welled up again within me despite my frozen numbness, “But what can I do?” I almost wailed.

“Hush that now. We have a secret weapon.” She smiled.

“We do?” I asked confused. “What is it?”

Her hands turned me towards where my family waited. “You’ll find out soon enough. Now back inside with you now.”

I let her push me for a few steps before I stopped. “Nan Nan I love you.” I said hugging her tight.

The gloomy reflected light glistened in her eyes. “I love you too, but now I have to go. Tell that old fool that I love him and always will.”

Slowly before my eyes she faded away into the falling snow as yet somehow I found more tears to cry anyways.

My feet had no more touched the steps before I heard my cousins bark out, “Here he is!”

Inside I saw some dressing warmly presumably to go looking for me, while others looked worried or upset. My Dad and Mom arrowed though the crowd and their stern expressions assured me I was in trouble. I knew I was in for a scolding or worse. However, with all the emotional storms I’d suffered, I just couldn‘t feel much of anything.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry anyone. Just had to get away for a little while,” I apologized as best as I could.

Snickers I knew had to come from my brothers and cousins as they waited for me to ‘get it’ came from behind me.

From across the room I saw his eyes widen with surprise, but then something passed between us I couldn’t identify, my Grandpa Smith. Like the Red Sea parting the family made way for him as he crossed the large crowded living room.

“Mark,” Grandpa Smith said to my Dad. “Might I suggest you save this for later? I’m sure everyone’s hungry and it’s past time to eat. However do you mind if I had a short talk with him while everyone is getting seated? I’m not trying to butt in. He is your son after all, but I want to talk to him.”

My Dad nodded his acceptance, as Grandpa Jones jovially herded everyone to the dinning room joking that all had better get to the table or he might not leave any food for them.

One of Grandpa Smith’s large work harden hands gently guided me away from the noisy flock of family. He wasn’t a big man, but had always been larger than life to me.

We stepped outside onto the porch daring the cold for privacy. The outside lights shone off the still heavily falling snow showing no signs of letting up.

Gently he stated more than asked. “You saw her didn’t you?”

Silently I nodded. Grandpa Smith had always seemed stern and unbreakable to me, but now there was a fragility to him that hadn’t been there before. Not since Nan Nan had died.

Sighing, the old man said softly, “I see her too sometimes. Just from the corner of my eye, standing there looking just like she did all those years ago when I married her.”

I could only nod again. My whole life I’d seen him as stern and unbreakable, but somehow the perfect match for my warm and quicksilver Nan Nan.

“How did you know?” I asked just as softy.

It had to be my imagination as his voice turned husky, because I couldn’t imagine him crying. “That jacket. That’s the one she was wearing when she died.”

I held his so much larger hand in mine willing, hoping to comfort his pain.

“It was just over a year ago that she passed.” He said. “Emma always loved this place because of the orchards and groves. She was out gathering pecans, when she had the stroke.”

His voice trailed off, but he took a deep breath. “I got help as soon as I could but it too late. I just couldn’t deal with having the clothes she’d been wearing at the house. I guess I thought if I couldn’t see them that maybe she was still out there somewhere. I threw them all away.”

Now I was confused, “How Grandpa? I was lost out there in the snow but she found me. I didn’t recognize her at first and she gave the jacket to me. She even touched me, but how could she do that if she’s a ghost?

His craggy face smiled wryly and sad. “Can’t really say. Your Grandma had a habit of doing the impossible.” The sad smile faded. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised she’s still at it even after …” His gruff voice trailed off.

I squeezed his hands as my own grief well up again. “I miss her too. She said to tell you that she loved you and always would.”

Tears tracked down his cheeks as I threw away others expectations and hugged him for all I was worth.

We stood there in the cold and silence for I don’t know how long.

Grandpa Smith sighed, “We better get inside. You’ve been out here in the chill long enough.”

I nodded but still didn’t want to face the others inside eating the feast. Shoving my cold hands back into the warm pockets my hand hit that paper again as we stepped back inside. Curious, I pulled it out finding a letter addressed to Grandpa.

Despite being back in the warmth, I found my voice frozen. I could only numbly point it towards him.

His eyes opened wide and his thick chest heaved with feelings. Shaking his rough hands took and opened it. Emotions flickered across his face as he read the message words wrote spoken across a gulf of time.

Grandpa’s iron gray head hung low as it fell from his grasp.

Well old fool here we are again. Just how many of these things have we written over the years? Seems like every time we get into a fight, one or the other is off writing a note to explain and apologize. This time is a little different since we haven’t had the argument yet, but I know it’s coming.

I can hear you now, “About what?”

It’s about Anne and Mark’s boy, Steve.
I know that no one wants a silly old biddy like me interfering, but it is about time someone did. I know the advice you and Ira gave Mark and Anne about him dressing in her things. While some kids do grow out of the whole wanting to be someone else, some don’t. We both know the kind of things that happens then. I don’t care if the nitwits in this family are embarrassed as long as she is still alive.

Might as well say she, since from the time she was running around in diapers that child was the sweetest little girl ever born. Mark trying to toughen her up just made a happy child a miserable one.

Besides these days some doctors are thinking it’s a birth condition. Yes, I’ve been looking into it. Now don’t you dare start giving me any of this he-men crap. Both of us know that there’s skeletons in the closet on both sides of that child’s families that’s wearing lingerie or fannel. I’m not about to let that child try and deal with her differences by herself.

I’ll guess this row we’re about to have is going to wait until after I gather a basket or so of pecans. You know how everyone loves my pies! Just remember you old goat I still love you and even at our age making up is half the fun of fighting in the first place.

The old broad
Emma

Silently I passed it back to him.

He raised his head looking into my eyes. “Has it been that bad? I heard about your talk with your Dad and Mom, and how you were pretending to be a girl. I also saw how miserable you were earlier before you run off.”

I could hear the noise as everyone settling down to the table. “Yes,” I said softly. “I don’t know what to do, but I wasn’t pretending. It’s this that’s pretending.” I said as anguish colored my voice despite the love I had for my grandpa.

Like a steam engine of old he huffed and sighed. “Wouldn’t you know it that she had to have the last word even after she’s passed on. Looks like I’ve been given my marching orders. I’ll help where I can, but I hope you realize that no matter what we do it’s going to be hard on you.”

A small glimmer of hope blossomed within me. For the first time in a very long time a true smile grew on my face.

Amid shouts of hurry up from the dinning room he smiled back. “Let’s go eat Miss Jones” Grandpa said taking my borrowed jacket.

“What should we do about her jacket? Do you think she is watching us now?” Looking up I asked.

A sideways glance showed my brothers suspicious expression at my happiness as we entered.

“Under the circumstances if it doesn’t up and disappear, I think it’s a gift.” Grandpa paused and I saw brief sadness flash across his face. Then he smiled, “I know she is.”

Despite that room full of family in that moment we somehow shared something just between the two of us. Still smiling I felt like singing. “Me too, Grandpa, me too.

As we sat bowing our heads for Grandpa Jones giving the blessing, I said one of my own. One with all of my heart because of a gift, I wasn’t alone in my fight to simply be me. Amen!

The End
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Comments

Very nice! Janice

Very nice!

Janice

Absolutely...

Beautiful. Just loved it. Thank you

Jess

Nice blend of fantacy and reality, Grover

A charming, tear-jerking treat.

Liked how the woman was her youthful self but then inside every old person is the young adult or child they once were. He watching Grandpa and helping her lost grandchild speaks to the power of love over all, even death. A classic motif nicely done.

John in Wauwatosa

John in Wauwatosa

A Ghost Story for Thanksgiving!

Grover,

A truly touching story. As Grandpa say, its still not going to be easy, but at least he has Grandman on his side and seems to be a pretty formidable entity.

A wonderful read.

As always,

Dru

As always,

Dru

Sweet And Touching

Nicely written. One of the better ghost stories I think I've ever read. It kind of really sneaks up on you, and the initial revelation is followed with a couple of increasingly effective tweaks of emotion.

Definitely left me with a few tears in my eyes.

Absolutely beautiful

Bless you for adding something as wonderful as this story to what was an already memorable Thanksgiving Day.

Hugs,
Sarah Ann

Another Grover Classic

joannebarbarella's picture

What a beautiful little story, combining the agony of the human experience with some grandmotherly help from beyond the grave and two, no three, gifts actually, one for Steve, one for Grandpa and one for us at BC,
Joanne

short and sweet

kristina l s's picture

Covers it nicely I think. A gift in a gift and even if the road is still not clear and there's likely a few washouts we do have a path to follow. Good one Grover.

Kristina

Beautiful

I've been avoiding most of the 'Gift' stories, but I followed the comments into this one.

Absolutely wonderful, and very touching. It's been a while since something I read made me cry, but this did. Thank you.

Melanie E.

A real treat for a

A real treat for a Thanksgiving day story. Grandparents can really surprise you sometimes, because as a child you look up to them as very special people. I know my own Grandmother accepted me as her granddaughter well before anyone else in our families did. I had loved her so very much before that and even more so after. Mark also has/had a Grandmother who understood her granddaughter more than anyone else including the parents. Thanks for the story Grover, Hugs, Jan

you done did it again

laika's picture

Whatever it is you do that makes your stories so smart and moving, Grover. There's magic but it's not some big whopping abracadabraoid panacea, but just enough to let this troubled and hurting person grow on her own, facing life, the reward somehow more rewarding for it. Love and encouragement and some evidence of something greater than us at work in the world- a pretty good gift!
~~big hugs, Laika

What a beautiful,loving,story!

ALISON

If anyone read this story and was not stirred to their
boot straps they should not be reading on this site.
Nothing short of magnifecent!Bravo!
Much love and congratulations,ALISON

ALISON

Grover, you done it again.

You have such a wonderful touch with these stories, but knowing you, I understand where it comes from. Very, very well done, hon.

Your fan,
Cathy

As a T-woman, I do have a Y chromosome... it's just in cursive, pink script. Y_0.jpg

A beautiful story Grover,

KristineRead's picture

A beautiful story Grover, thanks for a wonderful "gift."

Hugs,

Kristy

You had to go and do it...

Andrea Lena's picture

I thought I'd finished my crying for the duration of the challenge; then I go and decide to finish off by reading this...what harm could there be...no harm, maybe, but I can't see the screen to type...tears do that, but I bet you knew that already...nearly as hard to type as to read I suppose. Thanks for this lovely story.

I just revisited this tale again. Simply wonderful, dear heart. P.S. Change the tag to solo!


Possa Dio riccamente vi benedica, tutto il mio amore, Andrea

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

Really Sweet...

Excellent writing.

Eric

Subtle

terrynaut's picture

Thank, Grover. That was a very nice gift story.

- Terry

The Jacket

A big thank you to everyone who read and commented on my story "The Jacket." Among the dozen or so stories I've written this one has gotten the most votes. So thank you again to everyone. This one was both hard and easy to write. The memories that part of this came from made it tough, but the feelings that I wanted to portray were easy to find. Never ever do I want anyone to feel there isn't any hope. There is always that even if we may not know where to find it. For my heroine it was in the love that her grandmother had for her even after death, and her grandfather who still grieved for the woman he loved. For me, it is the wonderful people of this community who have always been there for me. From my first tale looking for editing help to the wonderful group to practically kidnapped me on the way to SCC. That is the greatest gift I've ever received, hope.

Hugs!

Grover

so moving

"Somehow I had to escape the shame, hurts and my impossible wants and needs." I've been there too, and you captured it perfectly.

DogSig.png

Dorothy Colleen

Thank you, Hon. It is said, "Write what you know." Very sadly all too many of us 'know' all too well.

Big Hugs!

Grover

Coming up on that time of

KristineRead's picture

Coming up on that time of the year again, and I still love this story.

Thanks again, Grover!

Hugs,

Kristy

I'm making the rounds tonight...

Andrea Lena's picture

...walking down the quiet halls of the site. I came across one of my favorite stories here. I can just see the child trying to be brave, wondering what Grandpa will say, but he had his 'marching orders,' and the girl is on her way. Stories like this always get to me because of what could have been. You touched my heart once again, dear one, and I am truly grateful for it. Thank you once again for this wonderful tale.


Dio vi benedica tutti
Con grande amore e di affetto
Andrea Lena

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

The Jacket

I have this story added to my favorites and read it every so often.It is one of my if only stories and enjoy it as much as the first time whenever I read it.Thank you for sharing it with us.

devonmalc

devonmalc

The Holidays

Thanks for your so kind words. As has already been said many times the Holidays hold a special challenge for many of us. When you feel all alone in a crowd already, it doesn't help when you're surrounded by judgmental relatives. However, there is support there too if you can just find it. I won't claim to be psychic, but it does seems if at times I just almost touch what is unseen to our worldly eyes. If so I know I have love ones there pulling for me much the same way as the Grandmother here. Love is the most powerful thing there is and even a small thing like death can't stop it.
Big Hugs

Grover

At the risk of repeating myself...

Andrea Lena's picture

...somewhat...I saw the comment here and I couldn't resist say this is one of my favorite stories!


Una buona Solo merita un altro!
Andrea Lena

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

Ditto

KristineRead's picture

I love this story!

Kristy

Thanks Drea and Kristine

I guess I don't have to tell you girls how sweet it is to get comments on your old stuff. This one is kinda a rarity because it's one of mine too. You pull a piece of yourself out and put it there in print. It's so very nice when it's warmly received. :)
Thanks again to all of those who've commented and more still to those who have done so again!
Big, BIG Hugs!
Grover

My favorite Thanksgiving Story on BCTS

KristineRead's picture

Grover,

Just had to seek out and find this story again. I have always loved this story, and had to read it again today.

Happy Thanksgiving. Hope someone new will find this today, as a result of this comment. If you have't read it, give it a try, its a great story!

Hugs, Kristy

In a word?

Andrea Lena's picture

ditto!

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

"My favorite Thanksgiving Story on BCTS"

BarbieLee's picture

Pulled me in. Someone's favorite stories must be good. Right? I don't do a whole lot of story reading now days as other things seem to be vastly more important. And yet, a short story by one of the leading authors, Grover, is a must read. So I did. We who have lost more than our fair share of loved ones through the portals of time must be super sensitive to "visits" from them. We see someone out of the corner of our eye, turn, look, no one is there. We feel them standing next to us and reach out to empty space.

You can fill in the blanks whether we are insane, creating illusions from memory, or if it is real. Happy Thanksgiving, may all the blessings fill your life with cherished memories until it is our time to "go home".
always,
Barb

Oklahoma born and raised cowgirl

Ghosts

It is said that our loved ones who have gone on before us are always with us. There are times when you look just right that you can almost see them when you need them the most. As long as you remember, they are there.

Thanks for your comment Barbie
Big Hugs
Grover

My favorite Thanksgiving story

KristineRead's picture

Once more my tradition of reading this delightful story.

Grover I introduced it it to a real life friend today, she enjoyed it and got the sniffles. She isn’t a member of big closet so I share that with you on her behalf.

I love this story.

Your comment

It simply pointed to this story and from now on I have my favorite thanksgiving sory too.

Still Fresh And Timeless

joannebarbarella's picture

Posted eight years ago, this little story is as beautiful as the day it was written. I just read it again and it deserves to be viewed by all readers on this site, not just the meagre number of reads that it has attracted to date.

Grover, thank you so much for this gem.