One Line Story

ONE LINE STORY
By Louise Zhang


Mr. Poetito has only one story to tell in his lifetime, and it is a one liner. He has told that story again and again to the story telling group at the Day Activity Center for the mentally challenged. It is always the same theme, and it runs always the same way: his grands died on the same day. He tells this story to everyone who happens to lend him an ear. It is a very big yet very short story. Most of the time, people listen with attentive initiation and after the first line; which is also the last or the closing line, their attention become less attentive, and then the attention trails away in prolonged sympathy, silent and heavy. Listeners are looking back at him, and with their mouths open.
Then, Mr. Poetito blows his nose real hard, real long, and real loud, with tissue paper rolled into little cramped balls. The impact is great, it implies a preparation for an abundance of running nose and running tears. He is not doing such Horn Blowing to suspend the story. It almost feels like he is suspending your life, and your emotion is suddenly left hanging on the Full Stop of the story. It is as broad as a Bible line and as dry as a fully fossilized fish skeleton.
“ My grand ma died and so did her husband, on the same day,” so he retold the story one day, and it went with no modification, and it fell over on listeners’ ears like “fan noise”. A fan makes sounds, and it is there, and it seems not there, because everybody hears it, yet, nobody is listening.
“My grands died on the same day” he repeated the story, it is the same story. Then, there, until one day, comes Ms Lulu, known fondly as the Crazy China Doll, when she came to join the storytelling. She won’t let Mr. Poetito finish his one liner story at the end of the first line, and after the opening line, which was also the closing line, kept providing Mr. Poetito with wide-eyed curiosity and interest. His face was uplifted to the ceiling and there was a twinkle of ecstasy in his eyes. With constant blinking of the eye she ,the crazy China Doll opened her lips of medium thickness and asked in a more investigative than inquiring manner,
“On the same day?”
“yes”.
“You mean they were killed in a car accident?”
“No.”
“They were not in the car?”
“No.”
“They were not?”
“No, they were not.”
“Where were they then, in an airplane?”
“No. not in the airplane, they were at home.“
“At home?”
“Yes, at home.”
“In bed?”
“No, only one is in bed.”
“Only one?”
“Yes, only one.”
“Which one?”
“The male”
“The male?”
“Yes, the male”
“You mean, the grand pa, the male?”
“Yes, the grand pa, the male.”
“Your grand pa?”
“Yes, of course My grand pa, who else do you think?”
“ Oh, your real, I mean, blood-related?"
“Yes, blood-related.”
“On whose side, your mom’s or your dad’s”
“On my mom’s of course.”
“So, then where was your grandma then?”
“She was there.”
“Where?”
“In the room.”
“In bed?”
“No, not in bed.”
“Then, in where?”
“In a chair.”
“In a chair?”
“Yes, in a chair.”
“In a chair?”
“Yes, in a Chair.”
“A rocking chair?”
“No, no, hell no.”
“not a rocking chair?”
“No, not, no, “
“A recliner?”
“NO, not a recliner, you silly.”
“Then, what chair, for God’s sake.”
“A wooden chair.”
“ A wooden one?”
“Yes,”
“Cushioned?”
“No. “
“Not cushioned?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
“That must be hard.”
“Yes, it is hard.”
“Well, think of it, to die in an uncushioned wooden chair.”
“Yes, in an uncushioned wooden chair.”
“What a sad idea.”
“No, it is not an idea.”
“No? it’s not an idea?”
“No, of course not, hell not, it is not an idea, it is a fact.”
“A fact? Sure, it is a fact. It must be a fact. “
“ Of course it is a fact, a fact, a fact.”
Mr. Poetito raised his voice and both of his hands. He started rubbing them against each other as vigorously as the primitives when they tried to start fire .
Crazy China Doll suddenly straightened herself up as if the fire ignited by rubbing 。She sprang up and acted as if the fire flames had licked her eye lashes, eye brows, and her hair with its tongue. She was one of those Chinese that has curly rather than straight hair, with little kinks . She was not through with Mr. Poetito yet.
“So,” she continued her inquiry,
“So what?”
“Go on, then, so, go on with your story, then so?”
“So, yes, so, she died in a wooden chair.”
“I got that part, but, so when your grandpa died in bed, your grandma died in a wooden chair, supposedly at the same moment?”
“Well, almost as at the same moment, or may be just one moment and then another moment.”
“One died on an earlier moment, one died on a later moment?”
“Yes, well I think, at almost the same moment. You know, life lingers when the last breath is drawing out . You don’t have a stop watch there in your hands to keep the record. It happens when you are not fully prepared to look at the clock until all is over, and it is usually after a few minutes when you remember to look at the clock. And then death is presumably claimed at about such and such a time, between such and such an hour you know?”
“Yes, I understand, it is not very easy to determine when exactly death happened. It is always claimed as presumably at such and such time, and always peacefully “
“Yes, presumably claimed and peacefully.”
“Who claimed? Doctor or your Mom and Dad”
“ I think it was my Mom and Dad, the doctor won’t be there for a long while, the traffic was bad, and they don’t want to disturb the dead by having all the commotion in the house. They understood how much my grands wished to die together, on the same day. Quietly and privately, as inevitably peaceful.”
“So your mom and your pap were there?’
“No, they were not there.”
“Where were they then?”
“In the other room.”
“In the same house?”
“Of course in the same house.”
“How many rooms in the house?”
“Three, three bedrooms.”
“Were you there too,?
“Yes, or no, I was in one of the bed rooms, but I was not in the room in which my grands died.”
“How would you know?”
“I did not know, I was told”
“Who told you? Your mom or your dad”
“My mom I guess,”
“You guess, how do you guess.”
“I don’t know, I was too young.”
“How young were you?”
“Two months old.”
“Two months old, and you could remember? My grandpa died when I was two years old, and I saw a picture of him holding me on his lap. But I don’t remember anything about him. Lucky you that you could remember.”
“But I don’t, I don’t remember. I was told, and I only remember what I was told, but it feel as if I saw the whole thing with my own eyes.”
“How, your eyes were open then?”
“I thought so, but I couldn’t see clearly. I had tears in my eyes. And I was wrapped in a blanket, and I had a milk bottle in the way.”
“And you were only two months old?”
“Yes, two months old and my grands died on the same day.”
“So you see two deaths on one day?”
“Yes, two deaths on one day.”
“So you are traumatized, aren’t you?”
“No, Hell no. I was too young to be traumatized by it. But I feel the memory of it sometimes makes me very upset.”
“So, they died together, on the same day! How extraordinary….,but not in an accident, not by suicide, how amazing…”
“Yes, on the same day, together. Life just stopped for both of them. ”
“Do they love each other?”
“Yes, they do, that’s why they died that way.”
“Just one moment, this one died, and then, next moment, the other one died too?”
“Yes, one breathed a moment longer than the other.”
“Yes, grandpa first, and then grandma second.”
“What a great story!” Lulu commented with a heavy sigh, “Not born on the same day, were they? but died on the same day?”
“Yes, not born on the same day but died on the same day”
“Yes, a great story. They loved each other to death.”
“Yes, they can’t live without each other.” Mr. Poetito reflected.
“No, they can’t. They know death ends lives but death does not end loves, and death just seals the loves between them and they were wrapped up in their love.” Mr. Poetito said.
“So death failed to do them apart.”
“Yes, death failed to do them apart. They outsmarted death. And they were together in death. “
“What a way to die,.. It is not always negotiable for the mortals to die in a way as you wished. Do you want to die like that? ” the crazy China Doll asks.
“I don’t have anyone to die with on the same day.”
“Me, neither.”
“ I will die alone.”
“By your self?”
“Yeah, no one to share that death I guess.”
“No, but thanks for sharing your great story with me.”
“You are more than welcome.”
“You are welcome, you have a good day,”
“You too, “
“Do you always blow your nose so hard? You might hurt the vessels of your nose.”
“No, I won’t, I am relieving the nose.”
“True?”
“Truly,”
“ True?“
“Yes, try yourself.”
“ No thanks, I think I will skip it. Bye bye, Mr. Poetito, thanks again for your great story.”
“You are welcome and you have a good day.
“You too, thanks.
“Thanks, bye.”
“Bye, thanks.”
“Oh, by the way, one more footnote,”
“oh, yeah?”
“My grandpa is not my real grandpa!”
“Not?”
“No,!”
“No?, then who was he?”
“My real grand uncle!”
“How astonishing! Grandpa became grand uncle…”
“No, he did not become, he was, and has been and is”
“How?”
“My real grandpa died in a accident building the Hoover Dam. His crew all fell to their death when the elevator gave out. My grandma was a widow with four kids and my grandpa, or my grand uncle, the brother of my late grandpa married her and kept the clan growing by contributing to the birth of more children.”
“Oh, I see, that tells the whole story.”
“Yes, the whole story, they died on the same day.”
“Heroes are baptized in heroism, and resurrected in tragedies.”
“Yes, Amen!”
“Yes, bye-bye, Mr. Poetito.”
“Bye-bye, Lulu, you have a good day!”
“Thanks, you too. Bye, bye.”
“Bye”.