Something of Value

“A turd?” Eileen said, sharply setting her cup of coffee down on the table. “Did you say ‘a turd’?”

“That’s right, a turd,” Carrie answered, pouring more coffee into her cup. “It was for their tenth anniversary gift. Howard told me later that he just did his business in a box, let it dry in the sun, squirted a little of that cat litter deodorant on it, then wrapped it up in some pretty, forget-me-not flowered gift paper and sent it UPS.

Eileen’s mouth was still hanging open. “I just can’t believe it,” she said. “Jesus, that’s incredible! I mean what the hell got into him. I thought he always got along well with Meg and Tom. Tom was one of his closest friends.”

Carrie took a sip; of her coffee and set it down. “Well, Howard was over one night and got to talking about it. You remember that small book of poetry he had published about five years ago. Well, he sent them a copy, and aide from what he told me was passing congratulations, he never heard anymore from them about it. Then, shortly afterwards, he got that favorable review in the newspaper and sent it to them and didn’t hear anything until several months later when they called him at Christmas. After Meg and Tom caught him up on their news they turned the phone over to Sam, their youngest, and then heard Meg in the background yell to Sam, “Tell him, nice review,” in a kind of after thought. Well, he never heard any more about it. He said he had never really gotten any indication from them that they had ever even read his book. It was just as if it were put on a shelf like a knick-knack to collect dust. He was really steaming that night, and it wasn’t the liquor. He hadn’t had a drop in three weeks. He just went on about how we’re all dropped down the wrong chimney at birth.

“Oh, he was in a rage, fit to kill. ‘What’s so sacred about the family,’ he kept saying. “you put the most real, vital part of yourself out there and the only response is a rusty silence. I could drop dead at their kitchen table and they wouldn’t even know who died,” he said. He just kept going on about it all night. Well, it was about a year after that when he sent the turd. “Something from another deep part of myself,’ he said.”

Eileen sat dazed over her coffee. “Well I just can’t believe it. I never heard of such a thing.”

Carrie took another sip of coffee and gazed out the window philosophically. “You know it’s a funny thing but he sure got a response to that anniversary gift. I mean, Meg has never really mentioned his book of poetry to me, but every time we talk she gets that turd incident in. It’s funny what gets people’s attention isn’t it?”

“It sure is,” Eileen said, staring blankly out the window…