SCRATCHING THE WIND
SCRATCHING THE WIND
By John Tuft
Jonesy worked as a night janitor in a medical arts building, meaning he cleaned the offices of several doctors and dentists in the building after they closed for the day. The same offices on the same shift, night after night, year after year. Over the years, Jonesy got to know something about those professionals and their staff, as well as the patients that they saw. You learn things about people if you are the one picking up after them from 10pm to 6am. Ask any parent. Jonesy lived in a modest home beside a lake on the outskirts of a modest city in Virginia. He held a healthy disrespect for religions, not because of the beliefs but because of the believers. Jonesy was married at one point, but she decided she wanted a better life with someone who was home at night. Jonesy enjoyed being the favorite uncle of his sister’s kids and every once in a while she tried to ‘fix him up’ with one of her friends or friends of a friend types. When your first name is Gillibert, the affectation of his last name suited Jonesy just fine.
Jonesy found various items as he cleaned the offices. Sometimes a toothbrush conveniently ‘forgotten’ in a dentist’s waiting room. There might be sunglasses or a cane, even a couple of phones over the years. There was the occasional prescription paper dropped on the floor by an anxious patient, in a hurry to get away from harbingers of mortality. And, always, just the detritus of humans being humans; candy wrappers, tissues, half-used ChapStick, appointment notices, gum wrappers, popsicle sticks, cotton balls, lip gloss tubes, prayer cards, envelopes for bills, and around the reception desks all of that and more. One night as Jonesy was going about his cleaning, he was cleaning around the reception area of the internal medicine group. As he bent to retrieve a waste basket a slip of paper stuck under the back edge of the desk caught his eye. When he got it into the light he read: “I’m scratching the wind.”
He found this message disturbing. Was this a note of despair and desperation? Jonesy went on about his work, but he could not get that note out of his head. It reminded him of the line from Me and Bobby McGee: ‘I’d give all my tomorrows for a single yesterday.’ Jonesy finished the floor and went downstairs to the next level. (A good janitor starts at the top and works his way down, if you must know.) In the dentist’s office he found a retainer on the floor behind a chair and smiled. In the offices of a pain management doctor, he found a lumbar roll that chronic pain sufferer neglected to take with her. But the note still nagged at him. When he finished, he went back to the office where he’d found it. He took a piece of paper and wrote: “I am the wind. I can move oceans.” He tucked it under the computer keyboard on the desk and went home.
The next night, Jonesy clocked in and began his rounds. When he reached the desk where he’d left the note, he chided himself for holding his breath. He peaked around the partition. Sure enough, there was another note, right where he’d left his. He picked it up and read: “Oceans can harm. I’m drowning,” and it was signed, “Milly.” Jonesy put the note in his pocket and continued on with his work, pondering what to say next to Milly. When he was cleaning the bathrooms at the pediatrician’s office, he found a Taylor Swift friendship bracelet with the title of her album Evermore spelled out. Jonesy picked it up and slipped it into his pocket. By the time he finished for the night, he still didn’t know what to do. He went to Milly’s desk and stood there, thinking. Finally, he scribbled, “The wind always is.” He placed the bracelet on the note and left.
The day passed with Jonesy trying to get to his sleep but not succeeding very well. The next night, he was a big groggy as he began cleaning. When he reached Milly’s cubicle, sure enough, there was a note with the Taylor Swift bracelet holding it down. The note read: “The wind makes giant waves that break on the rocks.” Jonesy completed his cleaning and came back to leave a new note. It read: “The wind moves the clouds and rains here and gone. Jonesy.” He put the bracelet back on the note and went home. The sun rose, the clouds and rain came and went, the sun set. Jonesy tried to stick to his routine and get to Milly’s place in due time. The bracelet sat there, holding down a note. It read: “The wind lifts kites and hurls tornados to destroy. Milly” At the end of his shift, Jonesy still did not know what to say.
Finally, he wrote: “The wind clears the fog and kisses the cheek. Jonesy.”
He went home and slept soundly through the entire day. The next night when he came to Milly’s place, as he thought of it now, he saw a note, but no bracelet. It read: “The wind carries songs and makes the leaves dance. Milly.” Jonesy contemplated this as he finished up. He went to a café across the street and ordered breakfast. He ate slowly, keeping one eye on the time. By the time he was on his fourth cup of coffee the clock read 8:30. Jonesy slowly walked back across to the medical arts building. He rode the elevator to Milly’s floor and slowly walked to her cubicle. At long last, there she was, busy with the phones and computers. Jonesy noticed the bracelet on her arm. She paused and looked up. “Can I help you?” Jonesy, heart in his throat, whispered to Milly: “I am the wind…”
Words are magic and writers are wizards.
