Time is fleeting / Lou 3

The Rocky Horror Picture Show











In an attempt to concentrate more thoroughly she’d kept her mind’s eyes closed. It was human thing. In fact, she was laying in a large empty dark space. There was nothing to see, but she’d chosen to imagine her eyes closed and the blackness that goes with such action. When the blackness began to mold into yellows and red, the sensation stopped her cold. In an instant of recognition, her mind’s eyes flew open with on thought only: day light.




She would have thought that fear and happiness were antithetical, and therefore couldn’t occur at once, but clearly she was mistaken. In that instance of time only a mind can process she realized three distinct things. One she was suspended forty feet in the air near the boarded up window. Two, she was seeing daylight and it wasn’t causing her spontaneous combustion. And three was looking down at her dead body. These thoughts came into her head and then were gone. She found herself again, feeling null and staring at the faint bar of light near the ceiling where she knew she’d just been. However troubling, the experience was real enough for her to offer the confidence that she could rise at will.


This time, without the entrapments of human feeling, she neither closed her mind’s eyes nor tried to raise her physical form but simply thought of sitting. Her view shifted. So she stood, again her view changed accordingly. Slowly she turned to see herself.


It was her. Her five foot frame lay ridged. Her hands rested gently at her sides. Her light brown hair frizzy with tight waves framed her pale face and shoulders. It was pushed off her forehead with a pink headband dotted with black cats. Though a part of her knew she was perfectly think, she still thought she looked a little chubby. It was her round baby face.


“You always look puffy.” She told herself. “And pretty dead too, I might add.”


Two years ago she would have found this whole situation much stranger, but that was before coming to terms with being a vampire.


“I am dead, right?” She asked her form. “Or am I?” She willed herself of self closer to her physical form. Confusion was forming again. She had consciousness, could you be dead and conscious? Studying her form more closely with emotional discomfort, she noted it seemed to be …disintegrating, like the falling away of sand from a sculpture. Now that she was paying attention her physical self seemed to be falling away at an alarming rate.


“Like sands in an hour glass…” She snorted as a new concept of death was taking form.


“Ohmygod, I really am dead this time.” She thought conscious still of not feeling the hot tears roll down a solid form that she’d always thought of as herself.


She backed away from the fragile form still on the slab. Dead?


A rush of wind had circled the room and the form before her collapsed in a pile of dust.

Lou 2

Rocky Horrow Show / Original Cast










There was no way to really know how long she remained battering around in her mind, remembering fragments of her life, her death and her undead existence. Walling in self pity, she decided she had gone to hell and cursed the unknown vampire who had convicted her to this fate.




Eventually self pity gave way to boredom. The kind of restless boredom she’d felt at a child when forced to lay in the dark yet unable to sleep. In such circumstances as a child she’d tried desperately to engage in out of body experiences. She’d concentrate on trying to leave her corporal form on the bed and wander off to the television playing in the den below. She’d never actually made it. Though she often achieved the sensation that she was levitating several feet above the floor. However, she typically felt it was not her being hovering by the ceiling but the whole bed itself and couldn’t out how to send the bed flying out of the room like some scene in Bed knobs and Broomsticks.


“Concentrate Lou.” She told herself. “Leave your body.” She giggled at herself but then turned solemn. When like the sighs, the giggle was but a thought, a movement that held no accompanying feeling whatsoever.


“Goddamn it. I’m dead.” She said. “No white light, no nothing.” Of course, she realized, maybe the white light only came to those who died once. The last time when she work from death it had taken quite a while for her to figure out her status. Since she was up and moving about, thoughts of death in the traditional sense hadn’t seemed pertinent.


“Okay, why should I let death stop me? Let’s try again, okay?”


“Sure.” She answered herself. “It’s not like we’ve got anything better to do…”


“Concentrate!” She ordered herself. “Think lite thoughts.”


Nothing, but the truth was she didn’t have anything better to do, so she kept trying.

It doesn't matter how I feel / Lou 1

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: The album












“Wasn’t it bad enough to be killed once?” She thought as instantly pain webbed through her body emanating from the spot from which the wooden stake protruded. As the pain subsided she was left feeling null. That was the word that came to mind. Null. Empty wasn’t right, that implied feeling some kind of boundary in which there was nothing to fill. She remembered seeing a movie once, before she died, that involved some South American voodoo thing, she thought it was. Zombies, people who allegedly held consciousness inside a dead body.



So that was it? She was a zombie now? Not difficult enough to wake up one day and find yourself to be a vampire, but now, killed as a vampire only to become a zombie.


Maybe she wasn’t dead? Maybe just dormant? Prematurely away from the ‘sleep’ that engulfed them at down. The high slit of a window in the warehouse she occupied showed fain indications of dusk. Maybe the stake had missed her heart. Maybe she was still undead and at any moment the sun would set and her body awake along with her consciousness. She could wait a bit, she thought.


The sun clearly set. Yet there was no stirring within her. She was beginning to panic now. Was this death? Could she spend eternity lying awake in a dark warehouse alone? That certainly brought a new consideration of hell.


She tried to take comfort in remembering it wasn’t like the last time. When she awoke as a member of the undead. Dazed, confused, disoriented. She’d gone out after work for some drinks with the others in the office. Granted she’d had more drinks than she’d planned and there was this really nice guy…


Oh yeah, really nice, she sneered at herself. So nice he’d drained her blood.


But he’d gave it back, she mused. And disappeared never to be seen again, the other side of her retorted immediately.


She let out a deep sigh. Though her body indicated no movement and she felt none of the comfort of air being pushed through her lungs.


This was definitely not like waking up as a vampire. That first morning she could barely move, feeling heavy and dragged down. But at least she felt. Remembering the first time she felt that nauseating hunger and realization she was craving blood resulted in another stagnant sigh.


This is ridiculous. She told herself with indignation. I am a vampires. I have no fear. Exceptional strength… She tried to will herself up off the slab of concrete on which she lay.


Again she was struck by feeling null. Never mind moving she could not even feel the confines of flesh.. Though she could close her mind’s eye and not see the world around her.

Anticipation

Anticipation / Carly Simon










NaNoWriMo



National Novel Writing Month. November 175 page novel in 30 days. I registered last year and wrote not one word. Do I try it this year? I’ve been trying to write daily… I’d feel some compulsion to start something completely new and not one of the um 3 is it now no more, projects ideas started here.


I’m tempted. But, what would I write about? I mean, it’s not that I don’t have ideas… I mean in addition to the things started here…. But then another thing?


I’ve three days to decide. Tick tock. Tick tock.


Maybe with such a defined goal these writings would be more cohesive? Maybe that’s not a good idea? Maybe … maybe … maybe…


Is this realistic given I spend ¾ of my life involved with work, they will be replacing the roof on the house, the house hasn’t been cleaned in god knows when and I want to cook Thanksgiving dinner? No. Definitely not realistic… but then, neither was this project and it’s almost November!


Almost 6 months since I started this and I’ve only missed a few days….


I don’t know. You’ll have tune in, in a few days and see.

Boy names goo / Bella 10

A boy named goo / Goo Goo Dolls













They had not yet made it to the dinner, but instead were a few doors down on the street corner. The shops long closed and almost no one was around the downtown area. Kate was sitting on the doorstep of a closed curiosity shop. The junk in the window staring down at her as she held her head between her knees and took deep breaths. Denton stood before her, his arms finally folded across his chest as each time he’d gone to reach for the woman he’d made her outburst worse. He was a normally patient man, and so he stood, waiting for her to calm so that their conversation might continue.




“Sorry.” She said meekly, finally looking up at him, her face tear streaked.


“Can we talk now?” He asked, moving to sit next to her on the step.


Kate shifted slightly to make room, but was still painfully aware of his proximity and the way their legs and arms threatened to touch. She nodded.


“Okay. First. Technically, I am not the one that arrested your brother, nor would I have anything to do with…sentencing. I don’t think he murdered the girl and I am hoping to prove that. I am hoping that you will help to convince him to help me. But all of that is merely a …complicating issue. I think you know me pretty well. I think I know you. I would very much like to get to know you more…” He could feel Kate tensing the more he went on and realized quickly that he had best change this path or things were going to rapidly deteriorate, and there was little further down they could go.


“Okay, let’s try this again…. I know that … we… that this is probably backwards, but… I would love to get to know you, would you come for coffee with me. Just to talk, then I’ll walk you back to the hotel or call you cab, which ever you prefer and I’ll see you tomorrow.” He spoke carefully trying to in one way or another cover the paths he suspected she was thinking. It was like tracking an escaped prisoner. He was trying to second guess which way she might run and head it off.


She looked at him a long moment, clearly debating and unsure. Denton was sure she was going to say no.


“Okay.” She said seeming to surprise herself as well. “Do I look awful?” She asked, looking up in the twilight.


“You look great.” Denton grinned and had never mean anything more so.

Remembering Alice

White Rabbit / Jefferson Airplane









Once one thing from the past is discovered to be inaccurate or worse, outright wrong, it calls into question everything. Suddenly, every memory is scanned looking for missed clues, misinterpretations, proof of truths outside of one’s thoughts.



For me once such discovery centered around our neighbor. My early impressions were that she was a nice old woman who rented a bedroom and kitchen apartment in my grandmother’s house. Although I was five or six, we became friends. I recall sitting in her kitchen, drinking hot chocolate, playing rummy, and my favorite, sitting on the sill of her second floor kitchen window. My legs could dangle out on the eaves of the roof and I was afforded not only an excellent view of the backyard, but the street behind our house and the neighborhood’s makeshift ball park. I remember how I enjoyed our time together and ‘our talks.” Though I cannot tell you what we talked about. I do faintly remember complaints she had of other tenants or my grandmother that I dismissed as only a child can do. Working hard at recall, I think her name was Alice.


My clearest memory however is not of her face or voice, but of her handwriting. Neatly printed block letters so evenly spaced they might have been typed. I is the memory of her writing that questions. Adult knowledge super imposing itself on a child’s image and creating the certainty that the memories are incomplete. Not necessarily that I have forgotten, but that being I child I was not exposed to the information to be able to file it away for future recall.


I’d become familiar with Alice’s writing because we used to pass notes to each other under the door. Secret notes about times to meet and promises of friendship. My emotional memory of these notes assures me they were private missives left in secrecy for which I feared discovery. But why? I know I had visited with permission at times, so what was the story behind these secret notes? Had my mother forbid me to visit out of fear I would pester the woman to death? Or was it jealousy and sanctions to keep me away from another adult I might find care or comfort with? Or was it a material protection from a threat real or imagined?


Such questions have caused me to search my mental photo album for clues, but I find none. Instead, more questions are raised. My adult self recognized Alice as not nearly as old as she had seemed, but a forty or fifty year old woman, some what weathered by life. But who was she?


What caused her to accept a two room, second floor apartment with a shared bath? Why did she befriend a six year old? Did she have a job? I vaguely remember mention of a family. Why can I mostly remember her writing? Most frustrating, is the knowledge that I will never know.

For the Byrds

The Essential Byrds










About a hundred birds descended our backyard this afternoon. They were all tweeting or I’d have suspected a Hitchcock remake. It was still a little a creepy.



However, they were very pretty. Black birds with purple – blue incandescent colors. I’ve been informed they were Grackles. An ugly name for such a pretty bird. I’ve seen flocks like this before of course, but not in my back yard, so close to humans.


They left as suddenly as they came. All of them taking flight in sequence like they were doing the wave. I can’t help but wonder, where are they going? Why did they land here to begin with? At least for the fifteen minutes or so that they were around, the cats and I were truly intrigued.

Which witch is unforgettable?

Unforgettable / Nat King Cole










When I was twelve my girl friend and I tried a love potion. It wasn’t for either of us, we just wanted to see if it would work. We had found a “spell book,” a lame, cute thing with a purple dust jacket bought at the local bookstore. (This of course was back in the day when such things existed.) It was supposed, no doubt, to be a “novelty” item.



We read it carefully finding a “spell” whose exotic ingredients could be found. That happened to be a love spell, and that was how the decision was made. When then needed a subject. Luckily, middle school had no shortage of young women willing to feed some poor unsuspecting boy a gulp of liquid in hopes for romance.


I recall one fine spring day on the playground, book in hand, various ingredients including the exotic rose water, spread out before us and a circle of girls peering over our shoulders. My girlfriend and I measured, stirred, shrugged our shoulders and passed it off to the brave soul who was going to try it out.


She was a big girl, already taller than the rest of us and tom boyish. She’d grow up to be more so. Her love interest at the time was a small boy, who would grow up to be invisible. I remember her chasing him around the playground, but I don’t remember if he actually every drank the concoction.


Regardless, I remember he never did grow to like her. We decided that the whole thing was a hoax. And with grave disappointment, at the time I abandoned my witch interest. Until…


Three years later, we were sophomores in high school. As I walked to lunch, I could help but note several of my classmates giving me a rather wide girth. Some smirked. Some looked at me strangely. By the time I met my friend in the cafeteria I was beside myself. What on earth was going on?


She sat waiting a Cheshire cat grin across her face. Her too? When I sat, she announced with a little too much glee, that Tommy, the class clown had given quite a speech in their English class. He had announced to the world that I was a witch.


“What?” I asked as if she’d just told me she believed the world was flat.


“Oh yes. He told everyone that he’s seen your house, it’s all black, with dead things in front of it.”


“I live in an apartment house.”


“And you have a black cat that lives there with you.”


“Pets are not allowed.”


“And …” She couldn’t contain the giggle. “That he’s seen you…” More laughter, “Flying around on your broomstick at night.” She nearly feel over.


“You’ve got to be kidding.” I rested my shaking head in my hands.


“Oh it’s Tommy… consider the source.”


At that moment, one brave soul had dared to approach me, “Are you really a witch?” He asked. He was a good kid. Later he’d be arrested for going AWOL from the Army.


“Yes.” I snapped. “And if you don’t watch out, I’ll turn you into a newt.” I hissed, angry. The rest was history.

Just like a prayer

The Immaculate Collection / Madonna









I feel I must write something, but I am, once again, brain dead and fried. I sit waiting to watch a movie I never wanted to see. Worse, I’ve seen it three times already. Tonight will be number 4. That’s a long story, that probably shouldn’t be shared. But it is a perfect ending for a bad week.



This week began with moving every piece of furniture at work. Why you ask. Rug cleaning. It looks great though. But still...


Next, I went to a professional meeting. Lots and lots of whining… until I admit. I lost it. I yelled at my colleagues. No, not figuratively. At the point when one said he was upset about a particular issue and was told there had been many, many meetings to discuss it. That those issues had been open to the public and announced and all had been invited and he added that he knew about the meetings, but wanted an invitation. I couldn’t keep quiet. An invitation?! I railed, a personal invitation for this one, that one wants a reminder e-mail for the three e-mails that she couldn’t keep track of and therefore forgot, another one wanted to be told something else…. Where was their responsibility? I demanded. Were they not professionals?


The next day, I had to “let some one go” the nice way of saying “fire.” I had no choice. I know I didn’t, but still…


And today? One of our ‘customers’ came in to say good bye as she was going to kill herself.


And now I sit, three hours after my official hours ended to watch this movie I don’t want to see. T.G.I.F.

A little unwell

More than you think you are / Matchbox 20









The moment I knew the world was wrong....


“So you want to go out for a drink sometime?” The defense attorney asked the prosecutor. His leer made my skin crawl. My eyes narrowed as the woman answered, sure with a smile as her fingers came up to play with the edge of her hair.

I turned looking around me for someone to offer a reality check. I found no help. I was surrounded by fourteen young Deaf women. We were on a field trip to observe the U.S. court system in action and they were getting an eye full.

We were in the audience of the court to observe the sentencing hearing for a rapist. I had explained this was not a trial, that the accused had confessed and this was simply a process to hear what his fate would be. I had been hesitant initially, rape being a particularly emotive crime. My students, I knew, shared my own harsh opinions of the crime and I had worked very hard at keeping a professional tone.

The girls, initially thrilled, were starting to get bored. We were forty minutes late in starting. The judge had arrived on time, but he wanted to finish reading his newspaper and chatting before things actually got started. Apparently that took priority.

The victim was there, at least in body. She was higher than kite and the smell of alcohol clearly emanating from her could not be escaped. While initially she had been trying to engage her attacker in conversation, after twenty or so minutes she had shifted to trying to dance on the chair and catch unseen butterflies. She was the elephant in the room that we were all trying to ignore.

Although her attacker said nothing, his family had commented loudly to the effect that she was ALWAYS like that. Their language was explicit and the disdain dripped in their tone. Her family in an equally shrill proclamation had agreed, but taken offense in the manner in which the initial sentiment had been expressed. The two families quickly began hurling insults across the isle, volleying like an obscene spelling bee. I wondered if my students were learning new words that I hoped I would not have to explain.

Only the self confessed rapist sat, appropriately dressed, looking pitifully young in a dark suit that was a little too big for him. He was demur, sitting straight; head bowed ignoring the circus around him. He looked sorry and contrite, on the few occasions he spoke his words were clear and polite, punctuated by ‘sir’ and ‘m’am’.

In teaching “deviance” and prejudice I often suggested the “elevator test.” When encountering someone different from themselves, someone who’s view or circumstances in life made them blanch, I asked my students to consider: ‘would I be okay stuck in an elevator with this person? Based on fundamental ideas would this person be more likely to help me or harm me?’ While not a fool proof exercise, it often reinforced that those we fear, might be label wrongly.

I had always found rape to be an inexcusable crime. I held no sympathy for the rapist and my personal views as to their acceptable punishments severe. Now I sat looking around a courtroom and the only person whom I thought it might be reasonable to be stuck in an elevator with was the one I knew to be a confessed rapist.

A black horse and a cherry tree

Eye to the telescope / Kt Tunstall











Even as I followed my mother up the front steps, knowing it was inevitable, a part of my mind was trying to think of a way out of lunch. My stomach had betrayed me by growling earlier. The typical, “oh I’m not hungry,” was not going to work. The bitch of it was, I was hungry. Starving. Ravenous. Of course, I also know I eat under stress, so perhaps this was just the vicious cycle of home.

We fell quickly into our places in the tiny galley kitchen, staged so many rehearsals ago, our lines already memorized. She prepares at the counter; I lean in the doorway.

“If you ate better you’d be healthier. This is a dicon radish. Try it. Try it.” The slice and dice and feed began.


“The doctor says I’m healthy, Ma. I tried it last time.”

“Well, if you ate organic food you’d have more energy. This is an umanchie plum. Try it.”


“I’d have more energy if I didn’t work ten hour days. I tried it the time before last.”


“I wish you’d at least try my diet. You’d feel better and wouldn’t be sick all the time. This is a new kind of sea weed. I think you’ll like it. Try it.”


“I am not sick. I feel fine. This tastes like Boston harbor.”


“I really think if you ate healthier, you’d be thinner.” A clear attack, a lunge at a weak spot that has nothing to do with numbers on the scale. It was because of the harbor remark, no doubt. “Remind me when we’re done with lunch. I’ll write down the recipes. You'll be loosing that weight in no time!”


“Ok …" I answer rather than remind her that I weigh 115 lbs, perfectly fine for a 5 foot frame.


As she drones on, I gaze around for an escape that I know is not there. Eventually my eyes sink to the floor. The floor, typically the only uncluttered surface, where I can loose myself in beige waves of plush carpet to float in a rayon sea.


Today is garbage day, so I share the doorway with a plastic container waiting, no doubt for me to offer to remove it, which I am not going to do. Especially now after the weight crack. There is something on the wall, low, I almost don’t see it. No doubt a scrap of radish, bok choy or other vegetable that tried to flee her like I am.


I will throw it out, my contribution to housework. I know as soon as my finger touches soft flesh, I have not reached vegetable or mineral. I know before it coils into a round ball, we share life. If we’d not made first contact, I could have left it, clinging to the wall. But now it’s on the floor and I am not willing to share my safe space.


Balled up, its flesh becomes harder. I pick it up placing it into the garbage.


“Did you ever read Dune?” I ask, perhaps a subject change. I’m feeling benevolent. Have I not just saved the life of a wretched creature, scooping it to safety and depositing it in heaven?


“No. Try this sea cucumber. You know, if you stood up straighter, you’d look taller.”


I slump, wishing I could curl up on the floor like my refugee. “Yes… mm hmm… ok…” I drone on at her chatter. But my sea of safety has been invaded. While I pat my own intellectual back at the creature’s rescue, my own flesh tightens like I am being watched, not simply the crawling feeling... It's like I am not alone.


I don’t really see it like I’m looking, but like my vision is a camera’s. We scan slowly around the kitchen, the panning view prompting the audience, me, to wonder where our garbage can dwelling friend originated. Compelled to look up, the image moves slowly. The cameraman, my unconscious, clearly knows what is ahead.


“Ma…?” I stare at the ceiling. It appears textured. My mouth would be open in shock, if I didn’t fear gravity. I start to count…too many. Way too many.


“Ma, I think you’ve got a problem…”


My mother has reached the stir fry portion of her act. The timing must be perfect. I know. I’ve seen this act before. She glances at me for the briefest of seconds. I am fixated on the ceiling that now appears to shift itself before my eyes. I wonder if I look as “horror stricken” as I feel and make a mental note to never doubt that phrase again.


“Oh? Yeah. I have a moth problem. A couple came in the other night, I couldn’t catch them.”


“Uh… No…No…” I stammer, part of me is calmly thinking: so this is hell, it’s not so bad. “It’s… It’s more like…like…” say it “like…” say it “Um…” I can’t say it. ”Like ‘pre-moths’” I breath again. If it’s not named it doesn’t exist.


“Oh?” For the first time my mother follows my gaze to glance above her head. “Oh.” She says a bit surprised. “My. I guess I will need to call somebody about that.” Just as quickly she has glanced back down and continues to dump more bowls of slice and dice into the sizzling pan. I know this is the finale of the act. I know what is coming and try to assess the heat of the pan.


“Ready to eat?” She asks lifting the pan off the stove. She stands in the middle of the kitchen. The ceiling shifts above her. She smiles.


This is the moment we see from what the heroine is made. Does she laugh hysterically, allowing insanity to possess her? Does she run screaming, although knowing that the demons will continue to follow her, presenting even larger challenges? Oh to be the kind of woman who faints. But I am not.


“Ok…sure.” I say and take my seat at the table, and finish my plate.

Five / Bella 9

America Town / Five for Fighting









Denton smiled as Kate’s form exited the elevator and scanned the room for him. Finding him as he stood leaning against a pillar she scowled, walking toward him.


“What?” She demanded, arms folded. “Isn’t it against the law for us to talk or something?”

“I…Kate, I’m not here about Jake, I’m here about us…. We need…”

“We don’t need anything.” She snapped. “It was…an accident.”

“An accident?” He grinned, starting to laugh.

“I didn’t mean… I mean… we shouldn’t… I shouldn’t…it shouldn’t…” Kate stammered.

“I know a diner around the corner, c’mon, lets go for a walk, grab a cup of coffee.”

Kate was about to snap that it was too late for coffee, but their scene was starting to attract attention. No doubt too, half the people in the room knew the man before her as law enforcement. “There is a place and time for everything.” She heard her own voice in her head and this was definitely not the place.

“Fine.” She said thru gritted teeth and started to walk toward the door, though she herself, had no idea what direction they were going in.

Denton fell into step with her easily, waiting until they were outside and away from others before he spoke.

“I really like you, Delta.” Denton spoke breaking the silence.

His words hit her more than if he had physically.

“You can’t!” Kate cried, stopping short in her tracks. Her breath was quick and she felt all the signs of the anxiety attacks she’d gotten as child rising within her. “You can’t. You can’t.” Her words rang out like a broken record.

Denton paused too, stopping to look at her, concern and amusement both playing across his face.

“Wwwhy not?” He asked puzzled.

Kate paused too, her breathing heavy. She thought for a moment.

“I don’t know you. You don’t know me. You’re the man who arrested my brother. You’re going to kill him for murdering that stupid girl and he didn’t do. And … And… And…” And with that she burst into tears.

Every day things are going faster

The Buddy Holly Collection









The world is busy.  I'm busy.  Your busy.  We all know, everyone is busy.  So why do some people presume that their business is more important than others?

To make a long story short, I happened to have a fire proof file cabinet.  For those unfamiliar with this item - they are typically lined with concrete.  Yes, heavy does not begin to describe it.  They are also expensive.  Very heavy and very expensive.

So, a while ago, I decided this was an item that should be sold.  I did what most people do, I put it up on Craig's list.  And a nice lady and at nice organization came to investigate and ultimately purchased it.  However, they were building a new building and couldn't take delivery.

We waited.  And waited.  And waited.

Finally they were ready.  They had a person who was to come pick it up.  A date was made.  But no, the man who was supposed to come, couldn't actually come on that date, and wanted to make an appointment to see it. 

It's a file cabinet.  A heavy file cabinet. 

But okay, several e-mail later, we have date.  It's a week away.  I go. I wait. I wait.  I wait.  Thirty minutes pass and I call.

Getting the man on the phone I ask, "Where are you?"

"Huh?" He answers, confused.

"You're not here.  You were supposed to be here a half hour ago. Where are you?"

"Oh.  I forgot..."  Then after stammering and stuttering and making excuses and telling me he has has no excuse, we agree on another date.

At this juncture, he says to me, "Can you call me that day and remind me?"

Join the parade / Bella 9

Join the Parade / Marc Cohn








They had agreed that the next step was to meet with Jake and make him talk. How that could be done, neither woman had any idea. Resigned, Kate declined the offer for company for dinner and headed back to her hotel room.



Now there, she had regretted the decision. At least company would have prevented her from thinking. Alone, she had little distraction, the tv being too easy to ignore. She’d even ordered room service, not that she had an appetite. The food remained untouched


When the phone rang, she jumped and stared at it as if it were some odd foreign alien that had just landed. It rang several times before she broke her stare and picked up the receiver with a tentative, ‘Yes?’


“Kate? We need to talk.”


She recognized Denton Sutton’s voice immediately and frowned. She considered hanging up on him, but that would be rude.


“No. We don’t.”


“Yes. We do. Can I come up?”


“How did you find me?”


“There are only so many hotels in town.” Kate frowned. “Please we need to talk.”


“No. I’ll come down.”

Tired

The Unauthorized Biography of Reinhold Messner / Ben Folds Five











One of my favorite things is our wall of fish. I know this sounds strange, but that is what it is – a wall of wish. It started with one fish. It’s kind of mailbox shaped, wood had a purple face and it’s body is splotches of color. It came from Helsinki. No really, it did.



After this first fish we found a second, an angel fish looking type but metal with red and grey stripes. Two fish then glad to three and four and then one day, these few fish became 16 fish, a glow in the dark starfish, two pictures (one of a blue crab and one of a fish fantasy), a crab, a seahorse, a frog and a cooper lobster structure.


Now, all of these items along with a small boat are hung on an approximate six foot square space of white wall. The fish all share two qualities: they must be interesting to look at and we both must like it.


My favorites remain the same though. The first, Helsinki fish remains my favorite.

Maroon / bella 8

Maroon / Bare naked ladies













She was still annoyed, but Kate had to admit, Alex, as the attorney insisted she be called was helpful and she liked the woman. She had not wanted to after the first five minutes, but she found herself doing so none the less. Her upset had also been tempered by the fact that despite her brother’s refusals, Alex had obtained all the information possible from the police.




“I don’t understand…” Kate stammered as Alex had a large file brought to her.


“We all think Jake is innocent. The problem is proving it.” Alex sigh taking the folder. “The is circumstantial, but frankly it looks damning.” She opened the folder. “I don’t have to tell you your brother’s past record, or that he likes to ‘party’ a little too much.” She frowned.


Kate sighed, exasperated. How many times had she told him…


“The girl - Sophia Esposito – unfortunately is a bit of a local celebrity. Twenty-two an a reputation to rival Paris Hilton, and a father to match. She was engaged to the son of a local thug with definite mob connections…”


“Well that’s good right?” Kate interrupted. “That means there are other possible…”


“No. That’s bad. It means that if someone saw something, they are not likely to come forward. It means that they have lots and lots of money behind this. It means that daddy’s business deal is probably now going south and besides loosing his baby girl he’s lost his investment. Need I go on?” Alex raised an eyebrow, Kate shook her head. “What is known concretely is that Sophia and a group of her friends went to the Seahorse Cove area for a little party. She was with a large group. All of them said the same things: out to party, Nick, Sophia’s fiancé was out of town with his daddy and she was mad. She invited Tom and Jake out to party because she knew Nick would be furious about it when he got home. Tom went off with an Amanda Curick, Jake hooked up with Sophia. People saw them go off together into the dunes in the direction where she was later found.” Alex paused and looked at Kate.


“What?” Go on.” Kate’s voice quivered a bit.


“This is going to be a hard road Kate… I…”


“It’s fine.” Kate interrupted “What else is known?” She hardened her look and the other woman sighed before going on.


“Sophia was found at 6 a.m. by a man out with his dog. She was naked and strangled. The coroner places the time of death between 2 am and 3 am. DNA confirms that … that she and Jake had sex prior to her death. She had enough alcohol and drugs in her to choke a horse.” Alex cringed. “Jake was found unconscious, also with dangerously high levels of cocaine in his system about 200 yards away.”


“So they think they got high, had sex and then he strangled her? Why? That makes no sense.” Kate frowned.


“Why? Because he’s like that? Because he has a temper? Because he told her she loved him and she told him she’d just had sex with him to get even with Nick? Who knows? And Jake’s not saying a goddamned word.” Alex snapped back her own frustration clear.


Both women sighed in unison.

Train in vain / Bella 7

London Calling / The Clash












The question had taken Kate aback and wiped all prepared thought from her mind. There was no way to hide her surprise, she was drenched in it. Attorney Shepard smiled.



“I’ve known your family a very long time, dear. You might say I’ve kept an eye on you and your brother for years. You are in Boston, leaving a most reasonable and law abiding life. Jake is living the life of a beach bum here… I … worked a lot with your father, and before he passed, he came to me with the request that I keep an eye out, should you ever, how did he put it? … Not be able to find the edge of the pool.” She smiled.


“I… I don’t …”


“I know.” The woman smiled patiently and leaned back in her chair. “I’m not sure what to tell you though…” the attorney pursed her lips in thought for a moment, then went on. “I first met your family before you kids were born. I was a young, idealistic lawyer in a district attorney’s office… I know you know, the males in your family have, shall we say, a habit of getting into mischief?” She smiled as Kate sat feeling bewildered. “It was luck that got me assigned to one of your father’s cases, but for some reason we hit it off, he and I, and your mother. Over time, it got to be me that they would call. Usually I was in the wrong state, but I’d find help, send opinions… I was there when you were born, but I know you don’t remember.” She chuckled. “Before he died he told me to keep an eye on you two… not that he had to say anything, I already was. Of course, Kate, I never worried about you, but Jake? As I hear it, he’s in quite a pickle.” She sighed.


Having slowly recovered, Kate had a long moment of irritation. She didn’t like people ‘spying’ on her, but more than that, if this hot shot lawyer had been ‘keeping an eye out’ then why was she there? Why wasn’t the woman down at jail house? Why? Why? Why?


“I see.” She said tersely.


“Your brother refused to see me yesterday.” The woman leaned forward, arms resting on the table, as if reading Kate’s mind. “I’m hoping you talked some sense into him today?”


“No. Not exactly.”

Wouldn't it be nice / Bella 6

Pet Sounds / Beach Boys










Despite the heat, Kate trembled as she left the jail house. She was furious. Furious with Jake for allowing himself to get into this mess, furious with herself that she had allowed a silly encounter with a stranger, who turned into someone she would have to deal with and most of all furious at the world that had let her be in this precarious position.



She took several deep breaths as she sat in the smoldering rental car. First things first, she tried to tell herself and the first thing should be to find a lawyer, a really, really good lawyer. Sadly, researching lawyers in the Tampa area of Florida was not something new to Kate. In fact, she already had a mental list of names, addresses and specialties. Normally, she might have gone back to the motel, made some calls, set up an appointment. But there was an urgency to this particular circumstance that was anything but typical.


There had been one name in her past research that had stood out. A high priced, criminal lawyer, a woman, whom she had previously avoided fearing Jake would like the woman a little too much. But instinct told her that this was the woman to contact. She set the car in motion. In less than five minutes she was standing before a receptionist and to her surprise, in ten was seated in an inner office.

The room was professional. A highly polished dark wood conference table filled most of the room, its reddish stain made brighter in the afternoon sun that streamed in from the window. The chairs were upholstered in a vaguely feminine, flowery pattern. Kate sat rigid, trying to rehearse what she could possible say to convince the attorney Alexandria Shepard to take her, or more correctly, her brother’s case.


The woman who entered was not the image that Kate had anticipated. For some reason, she had pictured a young woman with long reddish hair, leggy and sleek as if she’d just stepped off of some television set. The woman who entered was considerably older. Sixty if a day, her hair long, but snow white. She was of average height, slightly stocky build and looked more like a grandmother from the home channel than a hot shot lawyer.


“Ms. Rose?” The woman smiled, coming around to the opposite side of the table and taking a seat across from Kate. “I presume, you are here about your brother?”

Desparado /bella prequel last 5

Linda Ronstadt's Greatest Hits









“I could learn to hate you.” Kate said matter-of-factly at 9:55 as they were disembarking off the plane. The flight was cancelled and there was now an irritated mad rush to reschedule and find rooms for the night.




“Do you live close enough to go home?” Denton asked casually ignoring her comment.


“No. It’s at least an hour in good weather.” They had reached the terminal again and Kate took her bag back. “I need to make some calls.” Kate glanced around the terminal assessing which task to take care of first.


Denton nodded and fell into line for rescheduling the flight. He watched Kate head for a free bank of phones until the flight attendant needed his attention. When he looked up again, she was gone. He scanned the terminal space, recognizing the other people from the flight, but couldn’t find Kate any where. Instantly annoyed that he’d managed to loose her, he headed for the rest room for a moment alone to think. The buzz around him indicated every hotel at the airport was booked solid, all other flights having been canceled earlier. A woman doesn’t just disappear, he chided himself. She wouldn’t have left, and he sincerely doubted she’d made an earlier reservation. With renewed purpose he went to look for her.










Scanning the terminal a second time, he noticed her seated on the floor in the boarding area opposite their own. She had found a spot away from others, but still clearly visible. Her head was tilted back against the glass and she looked defeated. Her dark hair faded into the darkness of the outside behind her, making her skin seem even paler in the low florescent light of that section of terminal. Denton thought she was probably one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. Shaking the thought from his mind, he strode over to her territory.


“Hey Delta, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.” Denton dropped his carry-on into the seat facing her and stood, before her, his arms folded defiantly across his chest.


“And just where do you think I might have gone, huh Bruce? There’s no flights out before morning and no room at the inn.”


“So… you’re thinking you’re going to spend the night…here? On the floor?” Denton looked around. It appeared that that was the general plan of most of Flight 472’s passengers.


“You got a better idea?” Kate glanced up him getting exasperated. Denton paused, staring down at her. He started to speak but glanced around the terminal instead. “The terminal’s floor is better than the car.” Kate snorted. “And at least I won’t over sleep and miss the flight.”


Denton smiled as Kate gave an exasperated growl.


“Well, actually, Delta….” Denton squatted before her, resting his hands on his knees so he was not only eye level with her, but he could speak more quietly and still be heard, since the free spots of floor space near them were quickly being claimed. “I have a room.” Denton spoke quickly before Kate could interrupt. “Here me out. You’re welcome to share the room with me. Best case there’s two beds or a chair or something, but worse case, the floor has a bit more privacy and it comes with a private bath and shower.”


“You have a room?” Kate leaned forward, the surprise overwhelming her.


“Yeah, I made the reservation around 4 when they posted the first delay.”


“You…?” Kate shook her head and laughed as Denton stood easily before her and offered her his hand to help her up.


“What’d you say Delta? I hope you realize this is a very special offer.” Denton pulled her to her feet easily.


“I ... I don’t…” Kate shook her head, “Thank you, but…”


Denton grinned at the deep blush that colored Kate’s face and the endearing way she was avoiding looking at him, though they were only a foot apart. He hadn’t really thought she liked him. It was probably not the right time to tell her she was cute, he decided.


“No strings, Delta. And if it’s a choice, I’ll let you have the floor or the bathtub or whatever you want.”


Kate paused and risked looking into Denton’s eyes. She felt heat rising through her body and glanced away quickly, to see several passengers relocate as the little boy appeared to be waking.


“The offer stands, Delta. I personally think it’s the best offer you’re going to get, but it is a limited time offer. Are you going to come with me or stay here?” Denton forced his voice to be as neutral as possible and to stare straight at her. He realized for a smart woman, what he was offering would seem unwise, if not outright dangerous, ludicrous, and stupid. If she was his sister or girlfriend he’d give her holy hell for even hesitating to think about it. He also knew there was probably information that if disclosed would make her feel better, but he really didn’t want to do that. If she decided to stay, he would stay with her, but he sure hoped she would make the choice of comfort. She turned to stare back, searching his face for some sign of trustworthiness or not.


“Looook! It’s still snowing!” The little boy’s voice reverberated even more in the nearly empty airport.


“I just want you to know, I do know self defense and I am not afraid to hurt you. Badly.” Kate’s voice was steady and she met Denton’s gaze firmly.


“I’ve no doubt of that, m’am.” Denton answered honestly.


Kate nodded and reached for her bag.

Here and gone / bella prequel 4

Here and gone forever / Guster









They ended up in the hotel restaurant, seated by the window where they could keep one eye on the weather and another on the clock. Having decided almost immediately what he would order, Denton appreciated the opportunity to study the woman before him more closely as she read the menu.


By instinct and trained observation, he was certain there was more to her than met the eye. She tried to appear plain, but there was something about the shine in her amber eyes that indicated a very different persona. It was little things that spoke volumes to Denton. Others might see her in the traditional New England jeans, navy sweater, and button down oxford. Denton noted the Oxford was a salmon color, so unique that he had no idea where she could have purchased it. However, it was the handcrafted earrings, and delicate gold bracelet that spoke to him.


After exchanging several biting comments about the menu items, they each ordered a highly over priced hamburger. The snow continued to swirl as they sat in a moment of awkward silence. Denton’s mind raced for something to talk about not wanting to raise any of the standard polite conversation topics such as weather or reasons for traveling. He was relieved when Kate asked about the book he was reading.


“Well, to tell you the truth, I’m not really impressed with it. I finished the one I brought an hour ago. I’m reading it only because it was the best I could find at the newsstand.”


“I understand. I was in the same …plane.” Kate smiled relaxing a little. “I should learn to bring thick books to airports, something like War and Peace, perhaps.”


“Maybe Anna Karinina’s a better idea, War and Peace might be considered a terrorist issue.”


“Good point, but I’ve already read it.”


“Crime and Punishment?”


“That too, sorry.”


“Winds of War? Shogun?”


“Looked boring...” Kate tipped her head sideways. She’d never met a literate military surfer.


“I don’t know. They looked boring to me too. Harry Potter?” Denton stared at her, intently keeping his face neutral. “He gets a bit whiny, but it’s not boring.”


“You’ve read it?” Kate couldn’t keep the intrigue out of her voice.


“Sure. You?” Denton leaned toward her, resting his forearms on the table with a slight twitch of a smile. Instinct and observation told him the woman before him was smart and he liked the idea that he was surprising her.


“Yes, as a matter of fact, I have.” Kate answered sharply, drawing herself up a little straighter. She was starting to wonder if he was simply making fun of her.


“So who’s your favorite character?” Denton gave her his most sincere and warmest grin, having noted her annoyance.


“Professor McDonagal.” Kate answered cautiously.


“I, myself, am rather partial to Snape. I know he seemed like a bad guy, but I really don’t think so.”


The waiter placed two dry hamburgers with wilted lettuce before them.


“Looks wonderful doesn’t it?” Denton smirked when the waiter left and snapped his napkin into his lap.


“Well Bruce, that’s because it’s not just a plain old hamburger, it’s a steak burger!” Kate answered her voice still a little crisp, unsure if he was toying with her.


“Mmm.” Denton murmured swallowing his first dry bite. “It is rather wooden. What do you think, Delta, pine?” He asked watching her swallow her first bite.

“No. Oak maybe.” Kate answered seriously. “Definitely a hardwood.”

“Hard would be the best description.” Denton answered quickly without a hint of smile.

“Difficult to find others.” Kate shot back wondering if he’d continue.

“Especially in a snow storm.”

“Perhaps this is a job for Lassie?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Or wolf?”

“Don’t remind me, the little boy who cried wolf is on our plane.” Kate took another bite.

“You think his name’s Peter?” Denton scowled as if seriously considering it.

“I think his name’s Damian.” Kate muttered.

“No. That was people muttering damn him.” Denton paused, “sorry, that was kind of harsh.” He flushed a bit.

“Harsh, but true.” Kate laughed, easing Denton’s concerns.

“The truth hurts?”

“The truth will set you free, Bruce.”

“You really believe that, Delta?” Denton turned serious.

“Yes, actually.” Kate paused. “You don’t think so?”

“I think truth, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder.”

“So truth is subjective? Not absolute?”

“Facts are absolute. Truth is perspective.” Kate scowled as Denton continued. “If I believe the snow is made of soap flakes, I can sit here and tell you that and it IS my truth. But is it fact?”

“Law of non-contradiction.” Kate frowned. “Nothing can be both true and false, so…”

“But for the person who believes, it IS true and not false. Besides…” Denton interrupted her.

“But since in reality it is not true, then…” Kate cut him off in the same manner.

“Then the perspective of truth changes in the face of undeniable facts. Still no contradiction. But still a relative truth.”

“But only in being truthful does an individual get freedom, a clear conscious – something cannot be true in the face of contradiction.” Kate shook her head, growing slightly disturbed upon realizing this was in kind to the conversations she often had with her brother and father. “Only by recognizing and seeing the truth can you make the best decisions and behave with … integrity.” She said with conviction.

“Oh, I think you’re completely wrong and confusing things.” Denton shook his head and leaned back in his chair. “For one thing, call it truth or fact – just because a person recognizes it doesn’t mean they will, can or should make a good decision.” Denton leaned forward and continued quickly before Kate could interrupt. “Truth or fact – it’s been snowing here steadily for hours. They should cancel our flight and send us out in the morning. Have they done it? And don’t tell me they’re not seeing the so called truth here, Delta,” Denton continued, “because they do keep postponing. Every other airline is canceling their flights. We’ve all been hearing about wolf’s fur for hours…”

“And that’s just my point.” Kate interrupted, leaning forward to rest her arms on the table also. “They’re not accepting the truth and it’s ridiculous. If they accepted the weather, we wouldn’t have been hanging around on hold for hours.” Kate checked her watched. “And speaking of which we should get back.”



After brief discussion, Denton let Kate pick up half the check, sensing it would make her more comfortable. Their previous conversation melded into the absurdity of airline decisions. The weather had not let up and while it seemed unlikely that the plane would be taking off, they found passenger’s boarding at the gate. Denton and Kate fell into line silently, the tension of the passengers palpable.

“We’re really going to be able to take off in this?” A nervous woman before them asked the attended as she checked the ticket.

“Oh weather is just one of those things. Everything will be fine.” The attendant smiled and reached for the next passenger’s ticket that happened to be Kate’s.

Kate smiled and took a few steps into the loading tunnel to wait for Denton behind her.

“See, a perfect example, of how not accepting the truth can be …disastrous.” Kate shook her head, wondering why she was getting on this plane when all good sense told her to stay on the ground.

“I’m sure she believed she was telling the truth.” Denton hefted his carry-on over his shoulder and reached to take Kate’s from her hand without asking. “This will be fine, Delta.” His free hand reassuringly stroked her back and guided her toward the plane since they were starting to cause a back up.

“And is that your truth?” Kate snipped back nerves making her sound angry.

“You bet it is.” Denton grinned. “We should be in the back on the left.” He nodded as they entered the plane.

“We?”

“I asked the stewardess for the seat next to yours when they did all that rearranging.”

“I see.” Kate’s voice was blank as she stopped before their seats. Under other circumstances, she probably would have been pleased that he had seen to it to sit near her, but the surprise at actually boarding in the snow had rattled her greatly.

“Over? Under?” Denton asked gesturing toward her bag and shaking Kate back to reality.

“Under, thanks.” Kate said taking it from him. She hadn’t remembered allowing him to take it.

“Not a problem, Delta.” Denton swung his bag over head easily and settled into the aisle seat next to her. Kate was staring out the window.

“Gez, Bruce, do you really thing this is a good idea?” Kate turned to him looking pale. “What are we doing here?” She glanced back out the window and Denton leaned over her to do the same. He wanted to sit next to me, she realized feeling the warmth coming off his body along with a faint smell of sun and beach and her heart skipped a beat. This is just nerves, she told herself. “Do you think they’d let me off?” She asked aloud.

Denton leaned back into his chair calmly. He glanced around and sighed.

“I don’t think you have to worry about it, Delta. I think this is an exercise in economics. I don’t believe we’re going any where tonight. But if they put us on the plane and give it the old college try, they can try not to have to compensate us for having to spend a night in the airport.”

“And what college did you go to?” Kate took a big gulp of air, her heart was pounding out of her chest.

“University of Maine.” That Kate made no comment, told Denton just how nervous she must be. He smiled at her and took her hand in his. Holding her hand tightly, he laced his fingers through hers and rubbed her arm softly with his other hand. “Just breathe Delta. I’m telling you it’s going to be fine.”

“You know Bruce, that’s not my truth.” Kate laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. She was on a plane, in a blizzard, holding hands with a stranger. A surfer dude no less. Albeit a smart one she chastised herself, beginning an inner debate about all of the reasons why she should not be attracted to him, while acutely aware of his touch.

“Wait a minute…” she turned to him, his words finally registering. “Maine?”

“What, you got a problem with Maine too?” Denton grinned at her.

“No. What do you mean, with Maine too?” Nervousness and attraction started to turn to anger.

“You know, you don’t like beach boys, you’re surprised at Maine… you must be a mountain girl?” Denton laughed.

“Who said I …” Kate’s eyes flared through her squint, as she begin growing more annoyed, but stopped short as the plane lurched a bit. Uncontrollable she tightening her grip on Denton’s hand.

“Ow, maybe I should say mountain lion?” Denton laughed.

“Lioness.” Kate glared at Denton who sat seemingly perfectly clam, despite being seated in a plane in blizzard with a strange woman clutching his hand. “I’ve lost my mind.” Kate sighed at the plane shifted again and she tried to focus on blowing out a deep breath slowly.

“I’m telling you Delta, there’s nothing to worry about.” Denton checked his watch. It was 9:15 p.m.. “In fact, by ten you’ll be back in the terminal with a whole new set of concerns.”

“Oh is that true?” Kate asked snidely.

“That’s a fact.” Denton laughed so hardily the people in the neighboring seats turned to stare.


“I could learn to hate you.” Kate said matter-of-factly at 9:55 as they were disembarking off the plane. The flight was cancelled and there was now an irritated mad rush to reschedule and find rooms for the night.

“Do you live close enough to go home?” Denton asked casually ignoring her comment.

“No. It’s at least an hour in good weather.” They had reached the terminal again and Kate took her bag back. “I need to make some calls.” Kate glanced around the terminal assessing which task to take care of first.