Prelude to the Arrival of Lindsey

After watching The Shining, I thought about other King classics from my youth. The weekend before Mark and I watched The Shining, we caught the last hour-plus of Carrie, which I had never seen before. I liked the ending when Carrie got her revenge against her classmates, who had mocked and ridiculed her throughout her high school years. The ultimate vindication was the crucifixion of her mother. In self defense, Carrie stabbed her mother’s hands to the wall.

Though I saw it in the theater, I don’t remember anything about Pet Sematary other than the semi running over and killing little Gage as he chased after a kite. His father was so bereft that he agreed to have his son given life again even though the re-lifing process had not yet been perfected, and previously precious Gage was evil upon his return.

I saw Pet Sematary on Friday, May 19, 1989. How can I remember that date from more than seventeen year ago? My niece was born the next morning.

The summer of ’89 was my second consecutive one spent in Windham, Maine with my brother Mike and his young bride, Ruth. I had just finished my freshman year of college and worked in the lab in the paper company where my brother worked.

The previous summer, after graduating from high school, I lived with them and only worked part time at Levinsky’s Clothing & Outerwear store and spent much of my free time down the street at the neighborhood beach. I met Brian, three years older, who was home from college for the summer and, coincidently, lived across the street from Mike and Ruth.

We dated the whole summer and were growing tired with each other by August’s end. Tired because we lived across the street from the other and so spent nearly every evening together watching videos, playing ping pong, or competing in Pictionary with either his mom and brother or with Mike and Ruth. Too much togetherness. Neither of us said anything about our increasing annoyance with the other. It wasn’t worth the effort as I’d be returning to Ohio soon.

Soon came, and Brian and I exchanged college addresses (before Internet), and I headed south with my brother Chris, who’d flown up to help me drive back.

Brian and I wrote once or twice a month, him asking for advice with the ladies and me giving it freely. Our friendship developed more in the eight months we were apart than it did during the nearly three months we were together.

The spring semester for my university—of Dayton—ended in April so I made it up to Maine before the University of Maine broke for the summer. Brian’s mom and I rode up to Orono in the family truck to haul the contents of Brian and his brother’s dorm room home. I was quite a surprise for them, and they were glad to have the help hauling furniture out to the truck.

Friday of that first week Brian was home, we went to see Pet Sematary with his friend from school, Arty, whom I’d met the previous summer.

As I admitted earlier, I don’t remember much of the movie, but I remember thinking it wasn’t that scary.

We dropped Arty off at his house and drove on to Brian’s. We got out of his powder blue Cougar and I said, “Seeya tomorrow.” We had made plans with Arty to meet at the beach. Then I walked across the street into Mike and Ruth’s big, five-bedroom house.

I washed my face and brushed my teeth and lie down in bed in my corner room to write the day’s events in my journal. Mike and Ruth’s room was upstairs. After a couple minutes, I heard a “boombloomboomboomboom” and a door slam. I walked out to the foyer, and the overhead light was on. Then in raced my brother carrying a small overnight bag. “Ruth’s water broke!” SLAM! And he ran up the stairs, the ones he’d just slid down.

I didn’t think I could offer any assistance so I sat on the love seat in the living area and continued journaling. Within a couple minutes Mike and Ruth were off to the hospital. I wished them luck and continued writing about the day.

After I’d finished, I shut my journal and looked out the sliding doors to the enclosed side porch, and there were the black cat’s yellow eyes staring back at me. I couldn’t see anything else as it was totally dark and some interior lights were on.

Now that I think about it, wasn’t there a black cat in Pet Sematary?

Anyway, I’d just written in my journal how the movie wasn’t as scary as I had hoped, but there I was alone in a big empty house with a black cat staring in at me. I was a little scared. I seriously contemplated calling Brian and asking him to come spend the night on the couch, but it was after midnight, and I didn’t want to call and wake his family just to quell my irrational fear. Instead, I checked to make sure all the doors were locked, especially the one to the porch, and I turned on every light downstairs and went to bed with the door to my room open. If the light didn’t keep the boogey man away, at least I’d hear him enter the house, and from my corner room have time to prepare myself for his attack.

Alas, the boogey man didn’t come. The rest of the night was uneventful. I got a call late Saturday morning that Lindsey no-middle-name-yet had been born about 8 a.m. I called across the street and told Brian’s mom the good news. I told Brian I’d be down to the beach later in the afternoon, after I got back from the hospital.

Lindsey no-name was the most beautiful newborn baby I had ever seen. Really, she was perfect.

If you’ve read My_Lost_Summer, you can thank Lindsey Anne (almost Brooke) Evans for the passage at the end of Chapter 14: the closure to the “hope” metaphor that had run throughout the book. She didn’t write the passage, but she did comment on the lack of a satisfying closure, which prompted me to write it. How smart for a sixteen year old?