by: Kristy Duke

Bo Duke

Icy cold sweat rolls down my thin smooth face as the darkness clings tightly onto me. I gasp for air as I sit up in my old queen sized bed as the nightmare plays lively in my head as I fight back the images of his still body lying on the living room floor. Though as usual, the more I fight back the horrid picture the more it haunts me, as if in an odd way it is teasing me or playing some odd and twisted game with me. Silently I wipe my face with my thin lengthy hands as the sounds of house ring out at me, growing louder by the second it seems. Once again the picture of his thick body lying there while I walk in screams at me behind my eyes and I squeeze my eyes close, hoping they would just go away.

Loosing the battle with the images in my head I slowly swing my lean lengthy legs over the side of the bed as I read the digital clock that luminates three in the morning. I sigh as I think of all I have to do today and yet know I won’t be able to go back to sleep, leaving me to work with four hours of sleep. An hour more than usual since the incident had occurred only two weeks ago. I stand still in place as the dark room seems to spin around me as the images play tricks in my mind. Slowly I fall into what I have been taught growing up, counting on prayer, of which I have lacked since the horrid incident. I pray to myself for the sight of my uncle lying on the floor to vanish from my dreams and from my head, that I will be strong enough to move on with my life.

Closing my weak prayer I glance over to my right at my cousin who sleeps silently in his single bed. His sheets are tousled around him as he rolls from his right side to his back in his sleep. I watch him sleep filled with my own love and affection toward him, the one that has been there for me through all of this, as he has been throughout all my life. Slowly I shift in place and slowly walk to the door and slowly open it, making sure it don’t squeak to awaken my cousin. Slipping out of my caved in room, I quickly close the door behind me and walk into the living room where more darkness invades, taking over the old house. Through the darkness I move through the known living room across the old oak desk that sits against the wall, that separates the two hallways. Passing the old desk I quickly turn left into the larger of the two halls.

In the second hall I slowly stand in the middle of the hall where a closed door sits to my left and an open door sits to my right. Without thought I abruptly turn to my left and carefully open the door as if afraid that I’d awaken someone. Thick darkness lingers in the old bed room, an almost evil darkness that sends chills racing down my spine as more pictures lividly play in my mind, of that dreadful day. Slowly I move my right arm up as the horrid day’s painful memory grabs ahold of me, making everything seem so heavy and forceful. Slowly I flip on the lights from the light switch to my right as numbness grabs ahold of me. In the lighted room I take a look around the large room that once belonged to my uncle, to the uncle that was more my dad than anything, who was so loving and caring. He was always there for me until I had went home early that day to find him spread on the living room floor covered in his own blood, a horrid expression on his face. He is no longer here for me and I feel so lost and worthless without him.

Numbly I step ahead near his sliding light brown wooden door closet that holds his clothes, a dark brown chestnut dresser sits on the other side of the closet, entrapped in the corner. A small window lies a couple of inches from the corner of the room, where a small ray of light from the bright moon beams in through the thin laced curtains. A foot from the window lies a small desk with a large mirror in front of it, the wooding matching the dark chestnut dresser; the desk where he spent so many nights at writing in his journal or in a current story that he loved to write. Against the right wall lies his large thick queen sized bed that remains covered in his thick off white comforter that he loved so much. Besides his bed lies the matching dark chestnut wood night stand that holds more pictures like the dresser holds, within it’s drawer his small Bible remains nested neatly in there along with a small notebook that he had scribbled ideas in.

I stand only a couple of feet from his old bed, my feet feeling numb, almost as if my bare feet has somehow grown attached to the old polished light brown wooding floor. Slowly I force myself to walk to the bed where I sit down upon the left half of the bed, slowly running my callused hand over his loved comforter. Memories flood through my head of all the times I had come running to him from a bad dream where he would sit in his bed holding me, comforting me until my tears stopped and my breathing calmed back down to normal. He would then would gently tuck me into bed besides him, watching me until I fell back asleep.

Quickly that day’s events display themself behind my eyes like a horrid picture show that continues over and over. The room seems to darken through the light as tears reach my eyes at the realization that he really is gone, that he isn’t coming back. I feel myself go weak suddenly and without thought I lie my head on his soft feather pillow, smelling his aroma from his pillow. Tears swell up in my eyes rolling down onto the pillow as I allow them to do so, not caring any more if Luke were to walk in and see me crying like a baby. Through the haze of my tears I look up at the pictures on his night stand, two of them. Both of them was of my uncle before I was born, with his wife and child, both of whom died before I was born. Jesse’s eyes shine with pride and love for his wife and child, as well as his love for life. Jesse loved life, but most of all he loved his children, even the ones his wife didn’t bear; Luke, Daisy, and I. He loved us as if we were his own, placing us in front of anything else that mattered to him. And now he is no longer here.

Feeling my body begin to tremble in my tears I try to force myself under control, after all I am now twenty-one years old. I can never remember seeing Luke cry, he didn’t even have a tear in his eyes on the day of his funeral, even though I know he was very pained by loosing his uncle, his father. But I haven’t even stopped crying since I had walked in and saw him lying on the floor in his own pool of blood, the most blood I have ever seen in my whole life! The memory of that nightmarish moment displays itself clearly in my head, taunting me with the fear that had arose when I walked into the living room that day.

Darkness slowly fades in as tears still continue to flood down my cheeks, my body trembling horribly as the flashback continues to flash in my head. Darkness that I don’t welcome, even though I need the sleep, but sleep means that the nightmare will come back and I’ll awake once again covered in icy cold sweat and yelling, perhaps bringing everyone’s attention. Though no matter how hard I fight against sleep, sleep over takes me and I no longer can feel the trembling of my body or the thudding of my heart or my fight for air.

Luke Duke

Slowly I awake as the irritating alarm starts to buzz at me, though my eyes remain close. I wait for Bo to turn it off as he always does out of routine, though lately he has already been up and dressed by the alarm goes off, just waiting to turn it off and make sure that I am awake. After a moment of the beeping buzzing at me I slowly open my groggy eyes and after a short moment of my eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room I find Bo’s sheets ruffled, but no Bo. Slowly I yank the alarm off and slowly get up, the cold hard floor sends goose bumps on my bare legs. Tiredly I make my way to the closed door of the room and throw on the lights of the room that rests a foot from the door way and return to my dresser to pick out my clothing for the day.

Slowly I change from my baby blue boxers that I wear during the warm nights into tight light blue jeans, a red plad shirt, and my black leather cowboy boots before I make my way to the door. Opening the door I expect to see the kitchen light to be a glow from Bo being awake and just sitting in the kitchen over some coffee and perhaps the day’s newspapers. Instead I am surrounded by thick darkness, sending panic through me as I wonder where Bo is. “Bo,” I call out and yet get nothing but silence. Panicky I race to the larger of the two hall ways, expecting to see the bathroom door closed with an array of light under the door, but find it empty and dark. “Bo,” I call out, panic lies thick in my voice, not caring if I awoke Daisy at the moment.

Standing near the opened bathroom door way, I stand silently, trying to think of where my cousin would be. Fear and concern run deep within me of where Bo is, though try to remain calm trying to convince myself that he is out doing chores. But this early? Suddenly I hear a loud moan that turns into a yell full of panic and fear rings out behind the closed door that rests on the opposite side of the hall from the bathroom. Slowly I look at the closed door, trying to convince myself that I just imagined the yell, but as soon as I step closer to the closed door another yell of fear rings out, though this time it is breathless and wheezy.

Tiredly I take a deep breath as my hand reaches the icy cold silver door handle and open the light door that feels heavy as memories of that day Bo had called me, his voice thick of fear and panic, telling me to pick him up from the sheriff’s station where he was being questioned. Fighting out the horrid memory of what Bo had went through that day, the day that changed everyone’s lives. Slowly my eyes adjust to the thick darkness to find Bo curled up in a fetus position on Jesse’s old bed where Jesse always slept at. Though he is asleep he gasps for air wheezily in a beginning of an attack as he seems to fight to awaken from another nightmare that plagues every sleeping moment of the nights, though the nightmare captures tightly ahold of him.

Slowly I step over to him and feel his forehead to feel icy cold sweat roll down his face, soakening into the Jesse’s old pillow case. Caringly I run my hand through his thick bright blond hair as I say his name, trying to awaken him, but the nightmare seems to hold on tightly to him, not wanting to let go of him. My heart tightens painfully for my young cousin who has been through so much the past couple of weeks, one thing after another. “C’mon Bo, wake up,” I say panicky as I slightly shake him, praying for him to awaken and not to be tortured as he seems to be lately.

Suddenly he begins coughing wheezily in one of his asthma attacks that he has been having often the past couple of weeks, causing his asthma to worsen. Coughing forcefully his eyes quickly open, his baby blue eyes shine with pain and fear as he fights for air through each forceful cough. “Where’s your inhaler, Bo?” I question him as he continues to cough chronicly.

“Room,” all of what he can manage to say.

Without thought I race out of our uncle’s old room, turning the corner my upper right leg is thrown against the corner of the desk, sending pain up and down my leg. Ignoring the pain I rush into the small hall way and into the room, hoping to find his inhaler as I can’t remember seeing it on our night stand where he usually places it at night. Panic races in me as I fight with time as I notice it not on the night stand and turn to my next guess as I pick up his old pair of jeans that sits on a chair at the end of his bed. I sigh in relief as I find his gray cased inhaler in his right hip pocket and race out of the room, being careful of the desk.

Walking into Jesse’s old room I find Bo still coughing forcefully and painful as he lies on Jesse’s pillow. Quickly I help him spray it in his mouth a few times until it settles down to only quickly breathing for air, knowing it will settle down in a moment or two. “How you feel?” I slowly ask, not wanting to hear the answer.

“It hurts,” he answers painfully, the answer I expected, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep, honest Luke. I just awoke a few hours ago from another nightmare and came here…I guess I fell asleep. I’m sorry.”

“For what? Look there is no sin in sleeping in his bed…we didn’t make a rule against it,” I say trying to calm him down, “Don’t worry about it, ok? Ya wanna go get something to eat? I can try to fix something, it may not turn out, but hey it’s the thought that counts right?”

“I’m not hungry,” Bo says, his normal answer.

I sigh worrily, knowing he hasn’t been eating in the past two weeks as that horrid day continues to haunt him. “You have to eat, Bo, I’m not taking no for an answer,” I say firmly, “You can have beer and pizza for breakfast, I don’t care. I just want you to eat something, even if I have to force you to.”

Slowly he follows me into the kitchen where I slowly turn on the lights, showing his ghostly pale complexion as he stares down at the table. His baby blue eyes remain opaque as they have been since I picked him up from the sheriff’s department that chilly and windy day. Though now as I stare at him, his complexion almost seems opaque, the palest I have ever seen him as his thin chest heaves in and out for air. “That’s it,” I say softly, “I am calling Applebee today and scheduling him to look at you.”

“No Luke,” he begs me, glaring up at me, “I’m fine, really.”

“No you’re not, you can say that all day if you want, but you know you’re not all right,” I say softly, wishing there were something I could do to help him feel better, “Not only have you not been sleeping well when you do sleep, you haven’t been eating, you look dead yourself, and your asthma has gotten worse.”

“Gee thanks Luke,” Bo says sarcastically.

“Look Bo, I am worried about you, you have been through a lot,” I say as I slowly pull out a glass, “you use to hardly ever use your inhaler, except for maybe once a week perhaps even once a month, especially the medication they have you on. And be honest with me, how much do you use it now?”

Bo looks at me with his opaque eyes and I fight to see a reaction in him. “I don’t know,” he lies.

“You know as well as I do,” I answer pouring some orange juice into the glass, “three or four times a day, sometimes more. You need to see Applebee.”

“There ain’t nothing he can do,” Bo says full of anger as I set the glass in front of him and he abruptly knocks it over, causing orange juice to spill everywhere and the glass slowly rolls off the table, breaking upon the old flooring, “What he gonna do Luke? He gonna make Uncle Jesse come back to life and erase that day? Is he gonna do that? If not, then there ain’t nothing he can do!”

I watch as he runs out of the room with tears in his opaque eyes and I listen to our door slam shut before I grab a paper towel and begin to clean up his mess. I sigh thinking of all that was said, his anger and pain so powerful and strong, though refuses to talk about it. I look down at the glass as fear and worry runs through me, thinking of how he has never had such a strong outburst as this, he has yelled at me or Daisy, but he never got so angry that he threw things or to say what he just said. Nor did he ever show that much anger or pain. My heart tightens in pain for my cousin as I slowly pray that I will some way be able to help him through his time of pain, but yet I seem to be empty, unable to help him. He has always turned to me when he was hurt or angry, or in any pain, but now all of a sudden he doesn’t want anything to do with me or Daisy, or anyone else. Tears blur my eyes as I fight for answers to help my cousin, answers that refuse to come to me, no matter how much I fight to get them.

Bo Duke

I watch out the small window that rests to the side of my queen size bed as the dark calm sky slowly begins to lighten up. My mind runs wild within me of all I had said to Luke to awakening in Jesse’s bed, I was certain that Luke would be upset. We all had agreed upon that we all should leave Jesse’s room as it is for the time being, which also meant that no one would be able to sleep in it. I sigh as a wave of exhaustion heaps over me as I think of what may lie ahead of us, a life without Jesse in it. I fight back tears as I wonder silently how I will be able to do it without Jesse, he was always there for me, always, and now he is gone, to never to return.

The early morning sky slowly grows lighter and lighter, showing a few clouds that linger highly in the sky. Watching the thick clouds that show a tint of blackness in them, I slowly allow myself to think of that day that was suppose to be made up of fun and excitement, which turned out to be a nightmare. I knew I should have stayed home with Jesse instead of going to the town’s annual picnic, though Jesse had stayed home, claiming he didn’t feel well enough to go. He was determined for us to go without him and we all did so, not thinking anything of it. Staring out the window I wonder who would ever want to kill Jesse and why? Everyone loved Jesse, I mean who wouldn’t? How did it happen?

A shrill of fear races sharply through me as I realize that this all didn’t happen by itself, his death was brought upon by another. Anger fills me with my fear at who ever did this to Jesse, an anger so thick and an anger that I have never felt before. Tears enter my eyes as the image of someone in our house, bringing evil into the house, and slowly taking Jesse’s life and walking out as if nothing had happened; with a large grin of achievement across his face. An evil that still lurks out on the streets and perhaps still in Hazzard, ready to strike again. More fear covers me at the thought of who ever did this to my uncle still out there, perhaps in Hazzard, awaiting for another chance to strike. More anger accompanies it at whoever it is that is so evil to take my uncle’s life, taking my uncle’s life against his will while he still lurks free on the streets, enjoying his life.

I jump in fear as the door loudly squeaks open and I slightly turn my head to look to see Luke standing in the door way. Quickly I wipe my tear filled eyes roughly with the back of my hand as I return to glaring out of my window, watching the clouds float freely above. Suddenly my mind returns to how I had acted when Luke tried to show his concern for me, showing me just how much he cared for me and I threw the glass in return, instead of saying thanks. I remember the deep anger, an anger I have never felt before, so strong and powerful that had built up within me since I had awaken. As the thought of his death continued to haunt me, with new scary thoughts of something that evil was in our house and just may return for more, or to some other house in Hazzard. But how can I explain that to Luke? The anger that built up within me scared me as much as the thought of that evil man returning for more, an anger that tore my heart apart.

“You feel better?” Luke finally asks and I fight to hear any anger in his voice, but don’t find any. His voice is soft and caring as it always is and so understanding. How can he be so understanding? Why can’t he just hate me for how I have been acting? Instead of treating me with love and understanding, making me feel so guilt, so horrible inside, making me want to run to him. Though I always fight it back, not wanting to face what he may think of me if I do that; he would really think of me as a baby, if my crying doesn’t convince him already.

“I guess,” I lie to him, wanting to tell him how I feel, but instead it doesn’t come out but gets stuck in my throat. The anger still feels me as I fight to get rid of the anger, by remember one of Jesse’s great teachings, how criminals are just people like anyone else with a misunderstanding of life, and in most cases have been wronged badly themselves and feel the need to strike out. Why can’t I feel that way? Am I that bad of a person to not see that? Fear remains to build with my anger toward the man that did this to my uncle, even though I fight to control it. “I’m sorry,” I finally say, not wanting to face him.

“I wish you would be truthful with me Bo, I really do; like we were to one another before this all had happened,” Luke sighs sitting on the edge of my bed, a foot away, “This all has been hard for all of us, but harder for you for you are the one that saw it; had to see it. Everything happens for a reason, Bo, whether we realize it or not. Death takes us all eventually, taking us different ways that effect their loved ones who will have to learn to live on with their lives without that person.”

“It wasn’t his time, Luke, whoever it was killed him!” I hear my voice tremble no matter how hard I fight with the tears, “And whoever killed him, is still out there and may do it again!”

Silence slowly invades our room as the clouds continue to float by carelessly as the sky behind it lightens up slowly by the moment. “Look at me Bo,” Luke finally says in his caring, but ordering voice and when I fail to do so he slowly places a caring hand on my right shoulder. Slowly I do as I am told to do, trying to fight the tears back as they push themselves forward. “Look Bo, we all miss him, just like you do, but he wouldn’t want to see you this upset or angry about it. Stuff like this happens all the time, and no it wasn’t his time, but we have to go on living our own lifes; as Jesse would want us to do. It is OK to cry Bo, don’t be afraid what others think, for what we lost was something we will never get back. But we have to appreciate the time we had with him and all that he had done for us.”

Slowly I nod, not trusting myself to talk as I wish he wasn’t as understanding as he is. Slowly I wipe my eyes out of habit even if he says it is OK to cry and I return to looking out the window, not wanting to cave into him. “It all is just something to think about is all, I’m not trying to lecture you,” Luke finally says, “I just hate seeing you this upset and so troubled. I just wish I could help you in some way, but I don’t know how to help you or how to make you comfortable to open up to me. I wish there was a way that I could protect you like I have always done in the past, but it is too late. What is done is done, if I could have changed it I would have been the one that went home to check on Jesse not you.”

I look at him for a moment, wanting to know what I should say to him or what not to say to him. “No you don’t,” I finally say, “No one does. I don’t know what you want me to tell you, I already tol’ everything to Rosco and those other funny looking cops…what else is there?”

“How you feelin’ or thinkin’,” Luke answers slowly.

“He’s still out there,” I say instead as I feel my lungs tighten up, “Someone needs to stop him.”

“The police is out there looking, that is their job,” Luke says patting me on the back, “not ours, not this time. They are trained for this, they’ll get him.”

“What if they don’t? Or don’t in time?” I question allowing my fears to take control of me.

Suddenly he draws me into a hug and I allow him as where before I always backed away from him. Slowly I let my tears melt down my cheeks as I feel him begin to rock, like he use to do to comfort me when I was a child.

Daisy Duke

Slowly I awake to the sound of my alarm mixed with some movement that seems distant, but somewhere in the kitchen. I sigh as I see the light pouring into my window, wondering what today will bring. Slowly I get out of my comfortable bed where I listen to the boys talking now in the living room, more of Luke than Bo. Silently I pray for my young cousin as I get dressed into a pair of short shorts and a tank top with my sandals, while lost in thought of Bo. Everyone in town has been affected by Jesse’s death, more so us since we were so close to him, everyone has been dropping by to send their condolences and to offer some help, though that has been decreasing in the past couple of days. Ever since Bo saw him on the floor he hasn’t been himself, refusing to talk or even to eat, he almost acts as if he is trying to hide within himself from everyone.

Slowly I finish dressing and make my way to the bathroom that lies down the hall from my room, across from Jesse’s closed door. In the bathroom I slowly get ready for the day by putting on my make-up while my mind becomes a whirl wind of thoughts of the past couple of weeks. My heart sinks in worry for Bo who seems so distant from everyone, unwilling to take any help we offer. Luke has talked about taking him to a counselor but we all know that he would only curl up even more, his already bent up anger would only worsen towards us now for forcing him to see help. It pains me at the thought of just letting him be until he feels ready to talk or to seek help, that may be months or years. How can I live watching him wither away as he is?

Slowly I open the door and walk into the living room where Luke greets me, “Mornin’ Daisy,” he smiles weakly and through his bright blue eyes worry and concern dances free, expressing that an incident with Bo has already occurred this morning, but don’t show how serious it may be.

“Mornin’ boys,” I say glancing over at Bo who sits in the old wooden rocking chair in front of the empty fire place, remaining quiet as normal, “You boys, going out this morning or the cows and animals gonna have to starve today?”

Bo glares at me though remaining silent as Luke slowly gets up saying, “Yeah you’re probably right. Let’s go Bo, if we go now we can head into town to see if Cooter has our parts in yet for the General.”

Slowly Bo nods as he slowly gets up, staring into the bleakness of the fireplace as if he had lost something in it. I watch as Bo turns the corner into the kitchen while Luke remains in place awaiting to hear the door close before saying, “We may be home late today, I don’t know what time. I do plan on seeing if Cooter has our parts, even though I know he don’t. That was just a cover up to get Bo into town, I am taking him in to see Applebee; I don’t care if Applebee is busy all day, he will see Bo before we return home. He had another attack today, there has to be something that he can do to help them calm down a bit.”

I nod numbly as I take in what he has just told me before saying, “That bad? What are we going to do Luke? We can’t just sit and wait around for him to come around, that may be years. We didn’t even see how bad he looked, just him and the cops. All this. . .I don’t know, but there has to be something.”

“I know, but we have to stick with him through it no matter what. Pushing him will only make him more upset, you know how he is,” Luke says flatly, “Well I better go before he comes lookin’ for me.”

I watch as he slowly walks out of the living room and my mind is clouded by all that he has told me. After a long moment of allowing my emotions to take over I slowly I move into the kitchen to grab something to eat for breakfast before I begin to do my morning chores around the house, as I continue to feel numb.
Luke Duke

Silence engulfs within the General while the powerful engine purrs to life under the hood as I drive quietly to town, lost in my own thoughts. Quietly I glance over at Bo who sits in the passenger seat staring out of his windows at the tall hills and the tall trees that surround the dusty dirt road and I watch his thin chest heave in and out for air. Glaring back out of the dusty windshield I try to imagine what he must be going through, thinking about after seeing Jesse on the floor as he was; after all I never even got to see him after I had left the house that early after noon.

Guilt quickly takes over me as I think of that day of the picnic where we all had left Jesse behind due to the flu or a cold, thinking he would be fine. Guilt, because I should have agreed or even volunteered to go check on Jesse when he wouldn’t answer the phone the four times Daisy had called to check in on him. I sigh thinking of the day, of how treasurable it was spending it with our dates until she couldn’t get ahold of him and I had forced Bo into going to the farm to check on him, guilt tripping him about how my date was going to be moving to New York to be a model a few days after the picnic while his would be around awhile. I sigh recalling Cooter’s sullen face when he approached Emma and me while we were caught in a long kiss. I hadn’t even realized he was there until he kneed me angrily in the shoulder and when I looked up at him and saw his crazy eyes filled with fear and worry, something he had never showed before unless it was a sheer emergency. His raspy voice echoes in my head of him telling me that Bo was on the phone, though wouldn’t tell him what was wrong.

I had rushed to the phone filled with fear, not only for my uncle but for my cousin who has never seen a dead person, being sheltered from it after he saw his parents die when he was five years old. After that he never seen a dead person or anything and picking up the phone I knew I should have went, I have seen death a lot while I was at war, it would have affected me alot to see what he saw, but it would have been better for me to be there. Bo’s tear-filled voice rings in my head of him telling me that I would have to pick him up at the sheriff’s station, saying Jesse’s dead. Though he had refused to tell the extent of it or how he died, I knew it was something horrid by his voice as I heard old flashbacks in his voice as he said it.

I glare ahead as we slowly head into the small town and I begin to wonder how I am going to get Bo in to see Applebee. Hesitantly I park our prized orange stock car in front of the two story town house that Applebee made into his practice and as I take the keys out I look over to Bo to find great anger in his baby blue eyes. “I’m not going!” he finally says, “I knew you had something planned!”

He stares at me accusatory as I pull myself out as my heart aches at the looks he is giving me, wishing he would know I am doing this because I care for him. “Look I know you don’t want to go, but I think you need it,” I sigh as he sits grudgingly in the car, “Now you are going in, I will carry you in there if that is what I have to do, I will drag you in there! You make the choice Bo.”

He glares up at me with more grudge and accusations with his emotional scarred eyes before he goes to protest with anger. I stop his angry protest by moving closer to him, making an act of go to drag him out and he slowly begins to crawl out of his open window. “Fine, I’ll go but you can’t make me say anything,” he says as he joins me on the sidewalk.

“Well what good will it do if you don’t say nothing?” I ask without thinking about it.

“Exactly my point,” he says as I put a caring arm around his shoulders as we walk in.

Approaching the front desk where a pretty patite chestnut hared woman sits talking on the phone. Seeing us she puts up a finger for us to wait and I glance over at Bo who only takes in his surroundings and I can see the flash backs of all the times Jesse took him here roll across his baby blue eyes. “May I help you?” she asks bringing me back to her as she hangs up the old phone.

“Yeah, I hope so. I am here so my cousin will see Doctor Applebee,” I say hesitantly, “we don’t have an appointment, but my cousin here is stubborn and there is no way I could get him here if we did have one. I just want him to check him over.”

“For what?” she says impatiently at us, rolling her hazy green eyes at me as I know Bo is doing as well.

“For his asthma, he has asthma really bad and it is getting worse by the day,” I sigh as I think of earlier this morning, “look, just tell Applebee that Bo is here to see him, he’ll know what it is for.”

She glares coolly at me skeptically before she writes something down and looks Bo over. “He looks fine to me, so I don’t see your problem,” she says, “He’s a grown man and knows when he needs help or not.”

“Thank-you,” Bo finally speaks up, “finally someone who agrees with me.”

“Look lady, I am about to loose my patience with you and you won’t enjoy that much either! I already tol’ you my cousin is stubborn and if it weren’t for me no he wouldn’t be here now…but he’d also live stubbornly with his asthma that gets worse by the day when it could possibly be treated to get better! I am sorry to waste your time on my cousin, but he needs help and I’ll do anything to get it . . .as he deserves even though he won’t agree with it!” I snap at her as the older doctor walks in to check her list.

“Well hi boys,” he smiles, his smile brightening up his face before he looks at Bo and he becomes saddened as he realize what this is about.

“These here two decided to waltz right in here without an appointment…the one for the check up is grown and the other is forcing him-”

“Shelly, it is OK, I know them boys, well I know all my patience which is why I will take them as I do all my other none appointment makers, I don’t know why you seem to try to make the rules around here…I also know their, his situation and if he needs to be seen I will see him no matter what,” Applebee says, glaring at her before he turns to us, “Follow me boys.”

“Shouldn’t he wait out here?” Shelly asks as we are halfway down the hall.

“He is fine…you think he will talk to me if he ain’t here?” Applebee snaps as he leads us to his first room, “OK Bo, you know how it’s done, I want you to get on that there bed…sit on it or lay on it, your choice for right now.”

Bo looks back at me, his baby blue eyes soften from his accusations to his need for support and I nod for him to listen to him, just as Jesse had done. I watch as he slowly climbs onto the bed as he was instructed to do and watch as he watches Applebee fill out his chart and I see the worry in his eyes as well as the horrid flashbacks that he fights to fight back with little success.

“OK Bo, I want you to tell me how you are and have been feeling,” Applebee says and as he sees Bo looking at me he adds, “I want you to say it, not Luke…afterall the one that knows best about how you are feeling, is you.”

Silence enters the room and I sigh at the thought of Bo fighting against Applebee to cooperate with him out of his stubbornness as he looks around the room with bewildered eyes. “How I feel? I feel like I wanna go home,” he finally says full of stubbornness, “Luke’s the one that dragged me here, so you check him out and not me.”

“Beauregaurd!” I yell in shock that he would say something like that to the elderly doctor, especially after all the teachings that Jesse has given us, “You apologize to Doctor Applebee, he is trying to help you!”

Bo looks at the doctor and then back at me with angered eyes and I watch as his chest tightens up, beginning to heave in and out for air. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Bo,” Applebee says facing both of us, “you are going through a rough time, it’s hard isn’t it?”

Bo looks confusingly at him then back at me where I lean against the wall, wondering how Jesse had dealt with his stubbornness, though I know Bo wasn’t like this for his visits with Jesse. Bo has always been very well mannered even through his stubbornness and now it all is at the cause of Jesse’s death. “I don’t wanna talk,” Bo finally says calming down a little bit.

“Well he can’t help you if you don’t tell him what is wrong,” I finally cut in and he glares at me with angered eyes, causing my heart to tighten at his pain that he refuses to talk about, “he can help you, you just have to talk to him.”

“It’s too late for any help!” he yells at me, ignoring Applebee who is too polite to interrupt even a family argument. I watch as he climbs off the bed and I quickly grab his arm to keep him in here. “Lemme go Luke! I wanna go. . .go. . .ho. . .me.”

I let go in deep sadness as he goes off into another attack coughing chronically and Doctor Applebee rushes over where I help him to get Bo back on the bed who is fighting too hard for air to fight against us. Caringly I grab his inhaler out of his pocket and help him trigger off a few puffs until the attack eases down slightly and watch as Bo allows him to unbutton his shirt to place the stethoscope on his chest where Bo jerks back at the cold metal until sitting still, fighting for air.

“How many attacks does he have daily or weekly?” Applebee asks after checking his heart rate, asking me instead of Bo who hugs onto his thin knees.

“Well three or four times a day…though it all depends on what kinda day he’s having too, some are worse than others,” I answer as I look at Bo full of worry, “and whether or not he goes back to sleep after a nightmare, which he normally doesn’t. Usually three or four times a day, I was going to take him in a while ago, but he kept fighting against it.”

He nods understandably before he checks him out the rest of the way of his normal check ups before he takes him in for a long while. “Have you thought of taking him some place a therapist or something like that to talk about it?” Applebee asks, “I know he most likely will fight and won’t talk, but it may be worth a try.”

“No, Daisy and I talked about it, but figured if he won’t talk to us he won’t talk to someone he don’t know. . .you know how he is,” I sigh, “but right now I am willing to try about anything, Cooter has offered to listen as well as others, but he just closes up, like that.”

He nods before looking at his charts and taking him for another long moment before he walks over to Bo and puts a caring hand on his shoulder and Bo looks up at him before looking back down at the white tile floor. “It may help to talk about it to someone, if not to Luke or Daisy or a friend…I’ll be glad to talk to you about it, or we got a new there-”

“No, I ain’t talking to no one about it, surely no therapist!” Bo cries out, “And talking about it won’t change a thing!”

“No it won’t change what happened, but it may help,” Applebee offers and Bo shrugs off his caring hand. Applebee sighs wearily before he joins me by the wall, “Well I know it is hard to do, but I think the only thing you can do is wait for him to come around. . .he hurts too much right now to talk about it, it is easier to close up and keep it too hisself like that right now for him than to talk about it. It may be days, weeks, months or even years for him to come around, but at the moment it looks like the more you push him the more he closes up. I know it’s hard to watch him suffering without anything to do to help, but being there is all you can pretty much do right now.”

It goes silent for a long moment as I glare back at Bo who wipes at his eyes, refusing to look up at us and my heart aches in pain and worry for him. “And his asthma?” I question looking back at Applebee.

“I’ve written a prescription for a higher dosage for his medication that he’ll be taking every four hours, I hope it works Luke,” he says sympathetically, “if not, come back and I’ll be glad to have a look with or without an appointment.”

“Thank-you doctor,” I say shaking his hand before I turn to Bo, “Come on Bo, let’s go pick it up and see if Cooter has our parts.”