Last Looks


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Posted by Mavra on April 26, 2001 at 16:24:47:

Poster's IP was: 216.3.181.122
Dear Friends,

Here is the latest bit of writing that I finally got around to doing, having a small break/vacation. I *tried* to keep the 'angst-level' down some, but it wasn't exactly happy as far as being under some duress to pack up everything and move to Florida, but alas, what can be done, right?

In any event, here it is...

Last Looks


-Mavra

***********************

"You’re doing WHAT?!?"

That was my father as he picked Mom up after she fainted and thudded onto the airport causeway after I showed off the engagement ring that Argon gave me.

"I’m engaged, Dad, and I’ll be moving down to Florida this year."

Dad was rather flustered himself now. "You can’t do that!"

I was really starting to hate people, no matter who, telling me what I can and cannot do. "Why ‘can’t’ I, Dad?"

"You don’t even know how to drive!"

"Well, then, I guess I’ll have to learn, won’t I?"

He sputtered and ranted some more about what was involved, all of the difficulties, the learning, crazy drivers... all of that. I wasn’t interested in the finer details, just the over-all picture. It was quite apparent to him that I wasn’t about to listen to why I couldn’t, only the matters of how I could and what I should do to go about completing this latest task.

The odd thing that this meant for me was that I obviously wasn’t of the ‘typical learning-how-to-drive age’, being over thirty years old, but if it’s one thing that Mom and Dad instilled in us kids (never mind that one of them is now a centaur) it is that anything is possible if you put your mind to it and worked at it. I was about to put that theory to one of its most toughest tests.

We held off of ‘conversing’ about this until I was done unpacking and could then direct my full attention to the topic of discussion. Not to mention letting both Mom and Dad regain some of their composure and calming down.

"What do you mean ‘I’m going to Florida!’ Mavra?" Mom blurted right out. Not much of a lead-in, is there?

"Well, Mom," I explained, "I figured that this is my last, best chance to make something of myself beyond an ungulate." A quizzical look on their faces made me pause briefly. "Never mind that, but all my life, both of you have told me that us kids can do anything if we put our minds to it. Well, now I’m going to really try, so... what’s wrong with that?"

"You can’t move down to Florida like this, willy-nilly!" Mom retorted quickly. "You have to give this some thought beforehand!"

"I have, Mom, and I see that this is the best for me." I paused. "Why don’t you think so?"

"Because... it’s so ‘out-of-the-blue’! One day you’ve decided to meet this... ‘boyfriend’ of yours and not having seen him face-to-face, but only pictures, and the next thing I know is that my daughter is ready to pack up lock, stock, and barrel and *move* down there!"

"Well, gee, Mom, I’d love to just be able to live here again while taking classes in Daytona Beach, but the commute is just murder."

"Don’t get snippy with me, young lady!"

Chastised I slumped, my tail drooping. "I’m sorry, Mom, but I don’t understand what the problem is! Mom, *am* I an adult? *Am* I 32 years old? Haven’t you and Dad often said that you’d both want me to go to graduate school?"

Mom sighed and shook her head. "Yes, dear, we have, but to go this far...!"

I sighed as well before replying. "Mom, I’ve stuck around here as long as possible, and what career have I started? Tell me, what were you and Dad doing when you were my age?"

For the first time, Dad spoke up. "We were *both* working so that you kids could have clothes, food, and a roof over your head!"

Nodding, I agreed. "Right, and by then, you both had jobs, jobs that you’ve been at for many years, and will have still, God willing, for years to come. Tell me, what do *I* have, besides only four toes, an extra set of legs, a tail, and an increase of half a ton? Is this all that I’ll be, and nothing more? A centaur? A freak? Some-one, no... some-*thing* to be put on display by whomever hires me or to be gawked at if I’m just simply going to the store to buy some... some stupid *OATMEAL*??"

Shaking my head, I continued. "No, for some time while I was with Argon, folks didn’t notice me quite so much as they do here, maybe because that there were two of us, him and I, and not only that, but... darn it! Mom? Dad? You had a *family*! You had three kids, a job, a home... and tell me, what do I have? I’m not a greedy person, I feel that I was brought up right, but... egad, I have none of those things. I feel like... a ‘hanger-on’, someone you see that tags along with a group of others, but has nothing herself. Heck, I’m not even as useful as a fifth wheel, at least that can support something. I’m a hood ornament, nothing more here."

Sniffling, I wiped my eyes and let my parents talk. Mom put an arm around my withers and Dad pat-patted my flank.

"Dear," Mom said, "We only want what’s best for you, that’s all. I’m sure that you’d be able to find a job around town, something that you’d be good at..."

I sighed again. "Mom, we’ve been over this many times, and there *aren’t* any jobs available for a twelve-hundred-pound centaur who happened to have earned her Bachelors degree in physics. I’ve tried a robotics firm, I’ve tried up at the Shriner’s Hospital as a lab technician, heck, even at that Boeing plant nearby! There’s *nothing* here! Where have I been? Knife store and now foundry, where at least my strength can make me some money. The only reason why I haven’t gotten into wrestling or anything else more incredibly asinine is that I was burned enough by that tabloid fiasco and I so very much loathe wrestling."

"Are you sure there isn’t anything else around that you could do, Mavra?" Dad asked.

I shrugged with all four shoulders. "I don’t know, Dad, but if there is, it’s been hiding very well from me, and so, let whomever that can find it have it. I’ll go to Daytona and see about getting a Masters. Yick, I never wanted to go back to school... *again*."

My parents both smiled and gave me a hug and I hugged back. "Egad, am I cyclic or what?"

"Hmm?" Dad asked, "what do you mean?"

Answering, I said, "well... I was working there at ESCO almost half my life ago, then I got laid off, then I went to school, then I got out, then went back again, then left." I smiled and finished, "then I’m back working at ESCO, again, now, I’m going back to school again! Egad times two, I’m becoming a professional student."

My father gave me a big hug around my waist. "Eh, you’ll do fine, Pumpkin!" He grinned from ear-to-ear. "I only wish I could be there when *my* daughter shows up the first day of classes! The looks on there faces...!"

Mom shot Dad ‘The GLARE’.

Dad looked abashed. "Ah... oops... I’m sure they’ll accept you for your mind."

I shrugged, wondering how it’ll go in the future. "I hope so, Dad, but I guess I’ll just have to take it one step at a time." I glanced back at my ‘distinctively’ non-conformist form. "... and considering how many legs I have, the sooner, the better."

* * *

With the argument of what I was going to be doing later on this year concluded, I set about with myself in procuring my first driver’s license. What a chore that was, for while I didn’t have any trouble in proving sufficient visual acuity, the matter of physically being able to reach the pedals of the vehicle came into question. Thankfully, family and friends were able to help me out in modifying the Ford truck that my folks have used to haul me and my trailer around with handicapped hand controls. While I felt rather strongly about not wanting to be considered as such, I was quite ‘differentially-abled’. Not only that, but the truck also had to have other extensive modifications so that I could properly ‘seat’ myself and all four legs tucked underneath me in what would become a very extended cabin. All-in-all, things went well enough as could be expected, or believed so, and I was able to procure a learner’s permit.

This only left me taking care of some unfinished business, such as trying to save enough money for the cross-country drive and starting-up anew in an apartment of my own.

I was working, well, like a horse at the foundry, ending up not only finishing the work left over from three of the previous workers who shared similar chores as I did, but also having to do my own work as well! I was working so hard, that even another worker there had told me that I was doing too much, and should be taking it easier, to ‘pace’ myself.

"Mafra," he said in his Polish accent, "you haf vork like horse! Take it easy, you do good vork, please."

"Sorry (unh!)," I grunted as I loaded another hundred-pound mold onto a pallet, "Pietro, I can’t. I don’t want to take the chances of being laid off again." Not only that, but also Dad raised me to have a good work ethic. I’ll do what I can, and earn my wage.

"But," I continued, "I’ll be looking forward to the company holiday coming up. I can use it to visit with friends and going camping one more time before heading out."

Pietro nodded and shrugged, heading back to his core machine to continue the evening’s work.

* * *

The company officers had spoken of giving us, the peons, some time off due to a slowing-down of work, and basically made a long weekend for us. For me, it was...

"Let’s go camping!" I shouted out as my friends and I finished packing up the cars with all of the various gear that we would be needing for a few days. Only this time, it was simply to the foothills of St. Helen at this artificial lake that is so prevalent in the Pacific Northwest. Where I would be going, there are no hills, not to mention mountains.

The trip itself was fun, nothing really odd happened (no Bigfeet showed), and all was seemingly normal, except for my presence in camp. The really fun thing was a race between myself and the rest in the boat in trying to get to the section that was on the other side and the length of the stretched-out lake.

"Are you sure you want to race, guys?" I asked. "I’m rather fast."

"Hah!" Scott scoffed, "if you can get there before us, I’ll do the cooking for *you*!"

I smiled and shrugged. "Alright, if that’s how you want it."

"You’ll have to go down to one end of the lake before you can come around down the other side, and we all know how muddy it is!"

"Yes, but who says that I’ll have to go that way? Besides, you’ll only be puttering along at... what? 10 mph? Probably less, with everybody in the boat."

"We’ll see, Mavra."

I nodded. Oh, you’ll see alrighty, Scott.

"I’ll give you a head start, guys, you all can climb into the boat and get going before I start off."

"Oh, you’re just asking for dish-duty, aren’t you, Mav?"

"You’ll see, Scott, now scoot!"

I waited as they starting scooting, and after they were well and off, so was I. It felt rather thrilling, really, to finally being able to ‘open’ myself up and give a race where nothing drastic was at stake, beyond getting dish-panned hands. My gate was sure-footed and swift as I started passing by the cars heading in the same direction as I. While the posted speed-limit was 35, I felt like as if I was whizzing past them, feeling my legs pound the ground, my hooves kicking up clods of dirt. I wondered if this was the same sort of thrill that horses got when they were running? I didn’t have long to ponder this, for the dam that had a road on it, leading to the other side of the lake was right up ahead, and after slowing to a trot to cross the concrete structure, I picked up my pace again and reached the agreed-upon area, the curved bridge, with no-one in sight. So, I waited, breathing heavy and catching my breath. Then I waited some more. Then still some more. It wasn’t until almost twenty minutes later when the boat finally showed.

"What took you guys so long!?" I shouted as they approached the curved bridge that I stood upon.

Scott was rather surprised and disappointed that I had beat them there. "Hey, you’re not lugging all of these big-butts in a boat, Mav!"

The passengers took resentment at this remark and removed Scott from the steering wheel, then tossing him overboard, amidst great cheering. This, I *had* to join in with!

Backing up to get some ‘good air’, I shouted, "I’ll save you, Scott!"

Looking up, he blinked the water from his eyes as he floated. "Oh no...! Wait! Mavra! Don’t..!"

With a yell I got from a cartoon show, I exclaimed with all four lungs, "Kaa... may... ah... may.... AAAHHHH!!"

... and jumped!

The pictures that were taken impromptu at the time showed first a centaur racing down part of the road, then jumping over the rail of the bridge, then she half-curled in what would be tantamount to a centaur cannon-ball, plummeting some fifteen feet into the water, raising a volume of water that could pass for a scaled-down version of an asteroid that impacted the Yucatan Peninsula some 65 million years ago.

Unnamed eyewitnesses proclaimed that that the crest of water was some four-and-a-half feet high and nearly swamped the boat.

Tee-hee.

The rest of the trip, I luxuriated in not having to do any cooking or clean-up afterwards. I *did* have to help in bailing out the boat, though. It was only fair that I did. Ack.

* * *

Returning to work, the news of the slow-down in work only became worse; that there simply wasn’t enough to go around, and that I would be transferred to another department to help out with the production there. The work involved was even more physical, but I wasn’t about to shirk or slack; I needed the money badly and nothing was going to keep me from reaching my objective.

The work *was* indeed strenuous, even with being a centaur, and I ended up over-exerting myself (surprise, surprise) and injured my shoulder. This wasn’t good, for it only put more stress on me to get better and go back to ‘serious’ work, instead of ‘light duty’.

Soon enough (but not soon enough), I was back not only at regular duty, but also where I started at, for business had seemingly picked up again, but alas, it was not for long. I was given notice that I was being laid off... again... just like I had been so many years ago. Damn ‘cycles’ happen over and over and over again!

All throughout this time, I was still trying to finish learning how to drive, and even more importantly, learn how to drive at night, for that is what I knew I would be doing a lot of while driving cross-country. I had since gotten a license, goody-goody, but what I needed most was simple driving experience. What would be my last night there at ESCO, I had called my brother, Johnny, to see if he would be so kind to bring the truck over and then after re-adjusting it to suit my needs, ride shotgun while I drove back home at night.

"Johnny," I pleaded, feeling stressed-out to the umpteenth power over being laid off once more, "*PLEASE* bring the truck! I need to get some more night-driving in!"

"Aaww..." he whined, "I don’t know, I wanted to watch Star Trek tonight, Mav..."

"Use the VCR then! Please! This is my last night here!"

"No, Mav, I’m sorry, but I just don’t want to go out tonight, sorry..." >click<

"!!!"

This is one of the reasons why I don’t want to get mad; I have a terrible temper if I let it get out of hand, and all of my circuit breakers just popped. Job-loss, stress of packing up, still getting the hang of driving, and a total JERK of a brother who didn’t even want to...!

"GRAAAHH!" I shouted, ripping the phone out of the wall and throwing it to the other side of the factory floor.

"DAMN!! DAMN!! DAMN!!" I continued to shout, picking up pallets and throwing them after the telephone. I must’ve rampaged well and good for some five minutes, picking up a few of the multi-hundred pound sand cores and throwing them down on the floor, shattering them. I was utterly livid.

My co-workers, bless them, knew what I was going through and what I was trying to do, and told me to take the rest of the evening off, letting me leave a couple of hours early and cleaning up after my mess.

Damn! Was I ever mad! It seemed as if things have been and always will be stacked against me, no matter what I do! Well, it’s not like me to just give up, no matter the circumstances, and it just gave me some time to finish packing things for the big move.

I was able to bounce around for a few more days through a temporary job agency, earning just a few more dollars to help pay for gasoline, if anything else.

It could be said that this job loss was good for me, for it left a bad taste in my mouth, as if I was being ‘weaned’ off of being in Portland. With an anticipated storm approaching in a week in mid-November of 1998, I had very little time left to finish packing.

My friends were kind enough to give me a sending-off party, plus a few dollars more to make it somewhat easier, but if anything, it would be *them* that I would miss to a great extent, for they had been with me through high school, where we first met, through my cancer, and through my transformation into a centaur.

The day of the move eventually came, I was packed and ready to drive cross-country, not too bad on a week-old driver’s license, and gave my folks a big hug each that rainy, November morning, with just a week left until Thanksgiving. I didn’t want to leave right now, but there was a severe storm coming in from the Gulf of Alaska that would be a real hassle for experienced drivers, not to mention a beginner such as myself.

With nothing left to do, I got into the truck and started it up, and headed out, putting on one of the many tapes that I had to listen while I drove, and it happened to be the Pink Floyd tape that my brother made for me.

Tears started welling up as I realized which song it was. Darn coincidences abound around me. It was Floyd’s ‘Learning to Fly’.

Into the distance, a ribbon of black
stretched to the point of no turning back.
A flight of fancy on a windswept field,
standing alone my senses reeled.

A fatal attraction holding me fast,
how can I escape this irresistible grasp?
Can't keep my eyes from the circling skies,
tongue-tied and twisted, just an earth-bound misfit, I.

Sniffling, I hummed along with it, wiping my eyes as I caught one more look of Downtown Portland’s skyline. "There isn’t anything for me here, Mav, just go, Argon’s waiting."

Ice is forming on the tips of my wings
Unheeded warnings, I thought I thought of everything.
No navigator to guide my way home,
unladened, empty, and turned to stone.

A soul in tension that's learning to fly.
Condition: Grounded, but determined to try.
Can't keep my eyes from the circling skies,
tongue-tied and twisted, just an earth-bound misfit, I.

Above the planet on a wing and a prayer,
my grubby halo, a vapor trail in the empty air.
Across the clouds I see my shadow fly,
out of the corner of my watering eye.

A dream unthreatened by the morning light,
could blow this soul right through the roof of the night.
There's no sensation to compare with this;
suspended animation, a state of bliss.

Can't keep my eyes from the circling skies,
tongue-tied and twisted, just an earth-bound misfit, I.

I shook my head, clearing it of sad thoughts, and concentrated on the task at hand, leaving my home of over thirty years behind me.



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