A HISTORY OF GIANTS

PART 1

The Bible - Genesis 6:4

There were giants on the earth in those days; and also, after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bore children to them, the same became mighty men, which were of old, men of renown.

            The old man sat there alone in the darkness. He spent all his life chasing giants. He had wanted more than anything to prove himself worthy, all the while thinking only of himself.

He brought the letter back up to his face to read it. Alone in his own darkness, tears flowed down his well-worn face. He thought about his own father and realized his fate was no different. He was certain he would die sad and alone just the same.

 His whole life, his entire history, amounted to nothing but a life’s worth of research that no one cared about. He hoped it would come to an end soon. All he had believed had abandoned him.

The world was right. He was a fool. He begged for death, but like all his pursuits, death evaded him. It, however, found his son.

CHAPTER 1 

UNACCOMPANIED MINORS

I don’t remember the actual details from the night our parents were killed. Darby remembered clearly the night our parents never returned home. Our parents had gone out to dinner, and Aunt Jane came over to watch us.  We had been having a great time playing games, drinking soda, and listening to music with our aunt. Then it all changed.

Darby remembers hearing our Aunt Jane crying and loud voices, so she got out of bed and went to see what was going on. No ten-year-old thinks their parents are going to die, so that was the furthest from her mind.  

Aunt Jane was sitting there in Dad’s big comfy chair. She was on the phone talking to someone – Gramma Louise, most likely. Darby stood there waiting for the call to be over. When it was, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

Jane looked at Darby with tears in her eyes and told her, “Your parents are dead.”

She said it just like that, without even thinking about how those words would echo in our minds forever. She said it was like a matter of fact. No easing into it. Just – they’re dead.

I was standing in the dark of the hallway listening. Half asleep and half having to pee. Confused by the news, I stood there in the hall and wet myself. I stood there urinating and watching Aunt Janee give Darby a big, lasting hug. One of the last she’d give.

More people came to the house that night. Gramma Louise and Grandpa Lewis, and a bunch of other people I didn’t know. They talked amongst themselves but never to us. Gramma and Jane were crying. Darby and I just sitting there. Not sure whether to cry or not. When the people who are there to comfort you are crying, the lump in your throat remains, but never makes it to your tears.

            “Was he drinking?” someone asked.

            “I don’t know, but it was a head-on collision. They were lucky; they both died instantly.”

I always thought the “they were lucky” rang completely untrue. No one was lucky. Mom and Dad weren’t lucky – they were dead. We weren’t lucky – our parents were dead.

As the night got later, we were forced to bed. The voices in the living room multiplied, and with each voice, it silenced our parents even further.

Darby and I stayed together in our parents’ bed. We always stayed in our parents’ bed when they had gone out for the night. Then, when our parents came home, they would carry each of us into our own rooms and put us in our beds.

That night, Darby and I, alone, held on to each other and cried.  I remember hoping it was all a bad dream. That we would wake up the next morning in our own beds, and the nightmare would be over.

It was an unforgivable thing for our aunt to say to us. The relationship we shared with Aunt Jane was never the same. Darby never quite forgave our aunt for telling her that our parents had died, especially in that way. It was irrational, but Darby held on to that anger and directed it at our aunt for a long time. There was nowhere else for her to send it. At least, at that time.

My sister, Darby, and I were born as close together as any set of twins could be. Only twenty-eight seconds separated our births. Darby was born first. My mother told me that I didn't want to miss a single thing my sister would see, so I pushed my way out into life. It seemed that my entire life was set on trying to catch up to her. Teachers always said that she was smarter. Right in front of me. She always had more friends than I did. She always seemed to be one step ahead. I hated that. I loved her more than anyone else when we were growing up. It wasn’t hard.  It seemed like she was all I had. 

The summer after our parents were killed, took a real turn. It was the first summer Dad wouldn’t be planning a car trip for us to visit some national park or up the central coast. It was the first summer Mom wouldn’t be taking us to the beach. It would be the first time we wouldn’t watch movies outside, play in the sprinklers, or eat s'mores in the backyard. All of that was over for us.

We sat at Gate C18 in Las Vegas’ McCarran Airport nearly every week after our parents died.  We'd wait for a plane to carry us back and forth in our new life. Darby sat working on her complex number puzzles like she always did, waiting on a plane.

Typical of me, I had my head buried in the latest paperback Gramma Louise picked up at the airport bookstore. I wasn't picky about the books, which was a good thing because she never paid attention to whether the book was appropriate or not. A boy can learn a lot from what he reads. All that mattered to me was being able to escape what real life was bringing us.

 Behind us, the airport gate windows were filled with the fabulous Las Vegas strip lit up like postcards with fanciful lights, roller coasters, and exotic architecture. For Darby and me, the spectacle of the enchanting landmarks had long faded in our interest.  We had seen enough excitement that any two kids could handle in a year.

Besides, this had become the usual backdrop of our Friday and Sunday nights. While busy travelers scurried back and forth between the terminals on the people movers, we did our best to ignore all that surrounded us.  We ignored the sounds of distant flight announcements and slot machines being played in the background.  We did, however, listen to conversations near us, especially if it was something about us, our parents, our lives, or our family. As a kid, you learn to tune in and listen to things you hear adults say to other adults. Things they would never tell you directly. 

“Hello?” Gramma Louise answered her phone as her eyes paced back and forth, looking for Grandpa Lewis, who was somewhere on a slot out of sight of the gate. “Hi Jane,” Gramma said. “We’re still waiting for their flight. No, Dad and I leave for LA in a couple of days. Our ship doesn’t leave port until Sunday morning. I know. I know. Well, you know your father, and with everything we’ve been through this last year, we all need a break.”

Gramma Louise, with her coif of dyed red hair and dangling earrings, dropped her purse on the seat next to her as she stood up to look around for her husband with her ear pressed to the phone.

“I know, Jane, it’s no trouble. I know you’re busy, and, honestly, it is about time they pitch in…oh yes, I confirmed their arrival time yesterday. She said they were sending someone to pick them up at the airport. A farm hand or butler or something…you know how they are. Eccentric, and after all, look what he believes in. I know. I know. For goodness’s sake, they didn’t even come to the funeral. But they’re grandparents too, and it has been almost a year. It’s time for them to help. We all agree.”

Gramma Louise listened to Aunt Jane on the other end of the phone while scanning the airport for Grandpa Lewis.

For the entirety of the remaining school year, I had heard Gramma and Aunt Jane refer to our other grandparents, our dad's parents, as eccentric, cold, and, at times, off their rocker. Then, there was a conversation that mentioned a crazy ol’ giant hunter, which was then followed by roars of laughter. Not exactly the glowing recommendations for the people you were being shipped off to for the summer.

“You know what?” Gramma Louise said. “I need to go find your father before he maxes out the credit card before we even leave for the cruise. I’ll call you before we go. Bye, Jane.”

            “Kids, stay here. I am going to find Grandpa and go to the bathroom.” Louise grabbed her purse, tucked her cellphone away, and quickly picked the underwear out of her butt, heading down the walkway.  We didn’t even look up from what we were doing. This was all routine.

“What’s eccentric?” Darby asked.

I answered, “I think it means crazy.”

“That’s pretty normal around here,” Darby answered back.

I remember nodding back in agreement as I was unwilling to stop what I was reading to react.

Considerable time passed when Gramma Louise and Grandpa Lewis finally returned, bickering back and forth. The gate attendant made the announcement:

 “Southwest Airlines flight 128 for Sacramento, California, will now begin pre-boarding.”

This was our cue. As soon as the announcement was made, we began packing our items into our backpacks and zipped them closed. We both stood up in twin unison, waiting for our grandparents. Gramma Louise wrapped her arms around the two of us at the same time in a forceful group hug.

“Be good, you two. Don’t make any trouble for your Grandpa Jack and Grandma Mimi.” Gramma Louise carried her usual scent of drugstore cologne and Ben Gay.

Darby replied for both of us as she often did back then, “We won’t, Gramma.”

Louise fussed with my hair, licking her fingers to get a cowlick to stay put. I always hated my hair being messed with. I never cared how it looked. I hated getting it cut and hated combing it. I often opted for wearing a Dodger cap over combing it.

 “And try to limit the amount of time that each of you is pressed with your nose in your books and math puzzles, p-l-e-a-s-e!” Gramma begged.

 Darby once heard Gramma on the phone with Aunt Jane say, “It’s not natural. Kids should be kids. You know, riding bikes, climbing trees, and even playing video games. These kids do nothing but spend their days with their heads in books and puzzles.” 

Gramma Louise even went so far as to send us to a psychologist for observation. She felt that maybe the loss of our parents had pushed us into living our lives through books. The psychologist did not share the concern.

“These are two gifted children with a hunger for knowledge and education. After all, their own father was a teacher.”

In fact, both our father and our paternal grandparents were teachers. This was also a concern for both Louise and Jane. The two talked often about the fact that our other grandparents seemed a bit odd, likening them to strange circus professors.

The fact that neither Grandpa Jack or Grandma Mimi attended our parents' funeral was clearly a sticking point with both Aunt Jane and Gramma Louise.

“Seems rude to me that neither one of them is making the effort,” Grandma Louise commented on the phone to Jane. “Their own son is dead, and they can’t be bothered. They think they're better than us with their college degrees and all. Well, at least us high school graduates have the compassion to take care of these kids and pay our proper respects.

This type of talk resurfaced in our heads and became more troubling when, suddenly, we were sent off to stay with these grandparents we barely knew.

Truth was, Darby and I were both afraid of Grandpa Jack. Who wouldn’t be? With all that was said or not said about him. The one time we saw him with our parents, he rarely said anything to anyone. He was not the talking type. He wasn’t the hugging type either.

“Stop fussing with his hair, Louise, my gosh, leave the boy alone,” Grandpa Lewis called out at the airport.

“Don’t snap at me,” Gramma Louise shot back at her husband in the crowded terminal.

“Come on. Come on. Get going, you two,” Lewis motioned with his hands, checking his watch. “The parking meter is running, and these kids need to get on that plane.”

We did as we were told. We had become quite accustomed to flying. We flew with nearly the same flight crew every week. This flight was no different. Our normal flight crew of Sandy, Marybelle, and Tito, who traveled from Ontario to Las Vegas, then went on to Sacramento, and then back again.

On board the plane, we settled into our usual seats; in the front, left side behind the galley. After pushing our bags under the seats and securing our seat belts, we'd pull out the same books we had in the airport. We sat silently, working on our activities. We knew the drill. All the flight deck instructions and safety warnings were the same. The entire flight was routine. The only difference this time was the destination.