Monthly Archives: September 2020

Fate Steps in One More Time

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You aren’t supposed to have conversations through the walls that separate the toilets in a lady’s room—especially the upscale ones or the down and out ones on a turnpike rest stop. And here I am on my way to visit my great Aunt Betty, who is possibly on her death bed. And suddenly I have the urge to go to the toilet five miles from my exit.

I know I can’t wait until I arrive at Aunt Betty’s house. I have to go now, right now. I realize that I shouldn’t have stopped on the way to get a breakfast burrito. That was my first mistake. And then, my second mistake was when I said, “Yes.” When the waitress asks,” would you like to add the Carolina Reaper on your burrito?” The Carolina Reaper has the reputation of being the hottest pepper available.  Photo by Openicons-Pixabay

About two miles from my Aunt Betty’s exit, my stomach starts churning, and I begin to feel kind of queasy. And then stomach cramps start. Not to mention that both my tongue and my lips are still burning from that Reaper. I breakout out into a cold sweat. “Oh, dear god,” I say to myself.

The cramps are so bad that I’m having difficulty concentrating on the road. I see an exit sign for the last rest stop. I’m trying to decide if I should stop or not when my stomach cramps into a knot. I feel like I might puke at any moment, so I turn onto the ramp and towards the rest stop.

So here I sit, I believe it is a distinct possibility that I might die just from the pain. At some point, I start praying for death. “Just let me die.” And then I just sit there and moan. I reach over to get another wad of toilet paper, and I realize with horror that there is not a single square left on the toilet paper roll. I’m in tears by now. I’m moaning and groaning, tears are running down my face.

And then I see a hand from the next stall handing me a roll of toilet paper at the bottom of the wall that separates the stalls. I grab it hastily and moan, “Thanks, so much.” And then I hear the door of the stall open and slam shut and then the door to the ladies’ room closes. I sit for a few more minutes until I feel my stomach muscles relax, and the pain subsides. I make a promise to myself and to the powers to be that I will never, ever eat a Carolina Reaper again.

I exit the stall and step up to the sink and wash my hands and face. My face looks drawn, and there are bright red blotches on my cheeks. I splash some cold water on my face and then pat it dry with a paper towel so rough it feels like sandpaper. “Holy crap,” I say to no one in particular.

I open the bathroom door and walk towards the exit. I see a petit but heavy-set woman standing at the door, and she is staring in my direction. I notice she has a strange look on her face and then a smile. I look around.  She is looking straight at me.  There is a certain familiarity about her, but I just can’t put my finger on it. Do I know her, or does she just look like someone I used to know?

As I get closer to her, I see a smile of recognition on her face. “Is that you, Dolores?”

I stare at her more intently. “Julie?” What in the world are you doing here? I can’t believe it. I haven’t seen you in years, over a decade.”

I have to step aside because there is a steady flow of people coming through the rest stop door. I didn’t know it was you. I was in the other bathroom stall, and I handed you the toilet paper at the bottom. I was just waiting for you to come out to see if you were alright. Of course, I didn’t know it was you.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, I just had a bout of intestinal cramps because I made the mistake of getting a breakfast burrito and get this, I had them put a Carolina Reaper pepper in the burrito. I love hot food, but hot food does not agree with my intestines or anything else for that matter.”

“Yes, I remember that from when we were children. You always had a stomach ache and spent half your time in the bathroom.”

“Yes, I guess it must have seemed that way, but it was only half the time.”

We both laughed, and then I started thinking about the last time I saw her. We had been best friends all of our lives. We grew up down the street from each other, and we were inseparable. However, I was about a year a half older than her and two years ahead of her in school. When I was about twenty-two, I moved out of state to live with my boyfriend, and I didn’t move back for seven years. By then, I had married my boyfriend and ultimately had two children.

“Well, I would recognize you anywhere. You look the same, but much older, of course.”

I laugh at her because that sentence, in a nutshell, described Julie. Open mouth, stick your foot down as far as you can get it. She was often blunt and said hurtful things unintentionally. Not realizing how often she hurt my feelings. “Yeah, thanks, Julie, everyone likes to hear how old they look.”

“Oh, you know I don’t mean anything by it. It’s just my way.”

“Yes, your way is perhaps not always the right way. I believe that is the reason why we stopped talking to one another in over a decade. I thought you would have realized that by now?”

“Well, Dolores, you were always so overly sensitive to everything.”

Yes, I’m a sensitive person. You knew that better than anyone. You could have thought about how words can hurt people and consider other people’s feelings.”

“Well, an old dog can’t learn new tricks can it?”

“Yes, actually, it can.”

“I can’t remember what I said to you to set you off, do you?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I can after I was diagnosed with congestive heart failure. You told me that I should just stop taking all my medication and cross over the great divide. In other words, just die and get it over with already.”

“Oh, I couldn’t have said that to you, Dolores. You know you were my best friend all my life.

“Yes, I remember that quite clearly, and when I ask you how you could say such a heartless thing to me? And you said it was just an old family saying, and your mother said it all the time. Although she didn’t take her own advice since she had congestive heart failure and had stints and a deliberator in twice after the first one malfunctioned.”

“Oh, you always took everything so seriously. “

“And then you never called me back again and didn’t answer my calls. I never heard from you again.”

“I did invite you to my oldest son’s wedding, and you didn’t come. My husband came, and I sent a present. I just could not imagine talking to you after so many years, and you never even apologized. “

“I didn’t think I had done anything wrong.”

“You did, you know how much I needed a friend that first year I was really sick. And you just seemed mad at me for being sick. I often thought it had something to do with your friend Dottie dying of cancer. You were so caring and loving about her during her illness. You spent so much time with her up until the end. I thought you just didn’t have anything left for me.”

“Well, maybe I didn’t, Dolores, maybe I just couldn’t watch my best friend in the world die, after I just lost Dottie. I just couldn’t do it again.”

As I looked at Julie, I saw a tear run down her face, soon followed by another and another. Soon tears were running down my face as well. I reached over and hugged Julie as tightly as I could. “Oh, Julie, I missed you so much. I wish you had just called me and explained how you were feeling. Just once called me.”

“Dolores, I picked up the phone so many times to do just that. But somehow, I just could not imagine watching another friend die and having to go to their funeral.”

“Well, as you can see, I’m alive and standing right in front of you.”

“And Dolores, you look healthy enough, although, as I said, older.”
“Well, Julie, a new heart medication came out about five years ago, and I was one of the first heart patients to take it. And really it was like a miracle. I feel fine. I still have to take care not to overexert and watch my diet and exercise every day. But, overall, I feel fine.”

And that’s when we hugged each other again and promised not to lose touch ever again and exchanged cell phone numbers. “Julie, I have to get going, I promised to arrive at my aunt’s house this afternoon, I promised, and she’s waiting for me. I don’t know how much longer she has to live.”

“Dolores, you have always been the kindest person I ever knew. I’m so glad we met up with each other again, I’m never going to let you go again. I promise. Pinky swear.”

“I promise to Julie, I’ll call you as soon as I return home from my aunts. It might be a couple of weeks.”

We hug each other again and walk out the door together. I watch her as she gets into her car. It’s dirty and streaked with mud. She always thought washing her car was a waste of time. I can’t believe I had run into my oldest, best friend. I smile and wave at her. I believe it’s kismet that we ran into each other after all these years. I wave again and walk over to my car and unlock it. I take a deep breath and head back to the turnpike towards my aunt’s house. I can’t wait to tell her that because of her, I saw my long, lost friend. She’ll be happy for me. I know she will.

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THE HOWLING

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I wake up to howling; it sounds like Kodiak. Ordinarily, he’s a quiet dog, only howls, or barks if he senses danger. Danger is an everyday occurrence in Luckyshot, Alaska. I wearily rise out of my bed, reluctant to put my feet down on the icy cold wood floor. By now, the fire will have burned itself out. I lean over and search for my slippers blindly. I find one, but not the other, I look all over, but can’t find it, maybe Kodiak used it for a chew toy again. I drag myself over to my dresser and yank open the drawer that seems as reluctant as I am to face another freezing cold day. I grab a pair of heavy socks, hop on one foot, and pull the gray sock onto my now frozen toes.

Artic Fox

Photo by David Mark-Pixabay

As I walk down the hallway towards the sound, I think about my mother. The reason I’m feeling so exhausted this morning, she developed a deep cough about three weeks ago that got steadily worse. But as stubborn as she is, she refuses to drive the fifty miles to the closest doctor. Well, she isn’t a doctor, but a county nurse practitioner who delivers the rare babies and set broken legs and arms. And she offers people in the nearby area what little comfort that she can muster up after living out here in God’s country. God’s country that’s a good one. If there’s a god, he’s forgotten about Lucky Shot a long, long time ago.

People came to this place to find good fortune when gold was found in Juneau. People slaved away here for years, but nothing was ever found but heartache and loneliness.

I quietly open the door to my mother’s room. She lies quietly enough in her bed, no longer coughing, which is a relief. Kodiak is no longer howling. He has his head resting on her right hand that is lying by her side. He doesn’t look up at me as I walk slowly over. I know she’s finally been set free, to wonder the universe. I’m happy for her.

I pat Kodiak on his warm soft fur and then hug him around his neck. As I look down at my mother, who no longer resembles the beautiful mother of my childhood. Her hand is cold and doesn’t respond to my touch. Her body is here, but her spirit fled this dreadful place. I pull the old quilt over her now still, and empty body. “Goodbye Mom, I’ll miss you every day of the rest of my life. I love you, please keep an eye out over me and Kodiak. “

I lead him out of the room, and over to the fireplace in the living room, and stoke the fire, throw on a few more logs, and slide down to the floor, with my arm around my only friend. I start to howl, and Kodiak joins in. I don’t know how long we stayed; until I run out of tears, and my throat is raw. I never felt this empty before.

I think about what will I do next, my mother has always led the way, made the decisions for both of us. Who will lead me now? I look around at the room, which now seems so empty and barren without my mother’s energy-burning brightly. Kodiak puts his head on my shoulder.

It’s at this moment I know what I had to do; pack up all my worldly goods, which can fit in my backpack and go into the town. Withdraw whatever monies are in my bank account and find out what can be done about my mother’s remains. Kodiak and I will move as far away as possible from Lucky Shot, Alaska, and population zero.

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The Whistleblower

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My alarm clock is ringing incessantly. I reach over and slam my fist down on it, hard to shut it up.  Slowly rising from my bed and stumbling over to my bedroom window. When I pushed back the curtains at that moment, I realized it was a mistake because the light from the sun felt like it was burning through my retina directly into my brain.

I cup my hands around my eyes and look out onto my balcony. I live on the fifteenth floor of my apartment building, and usually, I can see the apartment building across from mine. But today, I only see a blaring, ungodly light. And then I see red dots floating in front of my eyes.

When I first moved to Philadelphia, I would wake up at six o’clock on the dot. I was excited by the prospect of a new day, a new beginning. I don’t feel that way now. I anticipate more of the same. The same being, nothing good happens to me, and I will fall more deeply into debt. As it is, I have been eating Ramen noodle soup for the past three weeks. I will probably start talking in Chinese soon.

Italian Restaurant

If I don’t find a job soon, I’m not going to be able to pay my bills, including my rent. I will be out on the sidewalk along with all my belongings. And then the real nightmare begins I will have to move back in with my parents. Whereupon I will lose my will to live.

Oh, you think I’m exaggerating. Well, believe me, I’m not. My parents have been retired for years and live out in the middle of nowhere. The closest neighbors are an hour away. The town, if you can call it that, is another half hour from there.

They bicker from the first minute they wake up in the morning until lights out at nine PM. It’s not that they hate each other. It’s because they both want to be the boss. When they were working, they both were supervisors at their jobs. My father was the supervisor at a Budd plant in Philadelphia. It was a factory that manufactured metal parts for automobiles, railways, and even the space industry. He retired early in 2006 when his company was sold and integrated with another company. And he was laid off. He never really recovered from that loss. That job was his life.

And then there’s my mother. She was principal of one of the largest high schools in Center City, Philly.  As a new teacher, she taught math in middle school and then taught it in high school. Then she earned her master’s degree and her Principal certification. This was after working for over twenty years in the Philadelphia School system. She was forced to retire when they cut the funding of her school. She tried to turn the school around, and no one was interested in upgrading an old high school in what became an area with high crime and poverty.

So,  they are living out in the middle of nowhere, trying to manage each other. And there’s no way in hell that I’m going to become their new project. And be supervised into whatever it is they think I should be. I worked too long and too hard to return to the boondocks. Now don’t get me wrong, I love my parents, but I don’t want to ever live with them again. Although separately, they are decent but driven people. I can’t live with them. No way, no how, nada.

And that brings it all back to me. I have a little problem that I don’t seem able to overcome. I‘m incapable of telling a lie. Not a little lie, not a big lie, not a little white lie. No matter what the circumstances are, I’m simply incapable of telling a lie. That’s why I find myself in the fix I’m in now.

Through a series of incidences not worth repeating, I found out that my boss, let’s call him Little Boss, and his immediate superior, let’s call him Big Boss, were in cahoots and were screwing the company big time out of money. As soon as I became aware, I knew I should keep my mouth shut. But I couldn’t. Every minute of every single day, I had an impulse to spill my guts and tell the president of my company what was going down.

I know that if Little Boss or Big Boss finds out that I’m ratting them out, they will find a way of getting rid of me. And if it were possible, they would get rid of me permanently as in cement boots and dumped in the deep, blue sea. They were working with the mob. I kid you not, the mob out of Atlantic City.

All the same, I couldn’t sit out the whole situation out with my lips zipped. Every day I woke up with a compulsion to squeal, become a whistleblower, tell the god’s honest truth. It’s an affliction I’ve had all my life. I have to tell the truth, and it’s hell, I tell you, hell.

For example, I hit a dry spell for a while and didn’t have a date for almost six months. I was lonely, bored, and frustrated. And here’s why. Every time I meet a woman on a date, as soon as  I set eyes on her, I blab out whatever I notice about her, no matter what it is.

My buddy Fred set me up with a young woman that works in his building, He’s a married guy, but the women flock to him like flies on shit. If you don’t mind me using a crude analogy. But he loves his wife and never stops bragging about her, even though she is plain as a mud fence. She’s charming and intelligent and funny as hell but that face. They have been happily married for fifteen years. They have two beautiful kids. Fred is a happy guy.

Anyway, he keeps talking about this gal named Eileen, who is a friend of his wife’s, and how she’s perfect for me, intelligent, has a great sense of humor, fun to be with, upbeat and attractive. I’m somewhat reluctant to go out with someone he thinks is attractive because he says the same thing about his wife, and as I said, she is plain as white bread.

But finally, I agreed to go out with her. My buddy Fred gave me her phone number, and I gave her a call that night. Her name is Eileen, and her picture on Facebook is amazing. She has long blond hair and the face of an angel. She’s tall and slender. She looks like she could be a model. She agrees to go out with me. I clean out my bank account and bring the one credit card I have with some credit left on it. I make a reservation at the nicest restaurant I can afford and have money left for a tip for the waiter. I get my haircut and wear my favorite shirt and khakis. I take a good look in the mirror. And I can honestly say I never looked better.

I’m about five minutes late arriving at the restaurant. As I walk through the red door of Fiorella’s, I see her sitting at the third table on the left, and a waiter is standing next to her, taking her order for a drink. She is amazing. I can’t stop staring at her. I’m transfixed by her perfection, ivory skin, smile, and quiet laughter when the waiter tells her a joke. It’s like a dream come true. Finally, finally, my bad luck streak is over. My luck has changed.

I walk slowly over to the table so I can take her in. I know that this is the woman I was always meant to be with for the rest of my life. Just like that, in a moment, my life is turning around. She’s going to be my good luck charm. As I arrive at the table, she looks at me. And I feel like I’m melting under her candid stare.” Hello, Eileen.” I hope you will accept my apologies for keeping you waiting. I had a hard time finding a parking spot and had to walk several blocks. I should have considered that might happen and left earlier.”

“What? Oh, that’s no problem. Kyle. I just arrived a few minutes ago myself. The traffic in Philadelphia on a Friday night is quite heavy. I’ve been hearing about you from Frederick for a couple of years. And I’m glad I finally have the opportunity to meet you. Frederick is one of my favorite people in the world. Such a decent and kind, hard-working guy. He and his wife seem so happy. I envy them.”

As I sit down, I practically drown in her deep, brown eyes. I tell her a story about how Fred and I met in college. And he was the studious one, and I was drinking a lot of beer and partying until my Junior year when Fred talked to me one on one. He told me I better start getting serious because at the rate I was going, I wasn’t going to get anywhere in life. And for whatever reason, he got through to me. And I started cracking the books.”

“Well, he is one of the nicest people I know. He never has an unkind thing to say about anyone.”

I stared at her for a moment and thought, should I tell her about my little quirk? Although I couldn’t imagine what negative thing I could possibly say about her. She seems perfect to me in every way.

The waiter comes over to our table and hands us the menus. This restaurant is a well-known Italian eatery. And I always get the lasagna or the meatballs and ravioli. “Well, I think I’ll go with the Ravioli and meatballs.”

“And you, mam?”

“I think I’ll have the same. I haven’t had it in a long time.” As the waiter walks away, Eileen says,” god, I hate being called Mam. It makes me feel so old. Madam would be better. For that matter, “Hey, you. Would be better.”

“Oh, I don’t think anyone would look at you and think you’re old.”

“Well, thanks, but if the person is a twenty-something, they think everyone is old. What they don’t realize is how time flies by, and before you know it, someone is calling you sir or mam.”

“You know your, right. The other day I was getting gas at one of the gas stations that doesn’t have self-service, and the kid manning the pump said, “can I help you, sir?”

And I look all around to see who he’s talking to. And then I realize he’s talking to me. Not a good moment.”
As they eat their dinner, Kyle keeps staring over at Eileen. He wonders why such a beautiful woman isn’t married or engaged or have every man she meets fall in love with her. So, what kind of work do you do, Eileen?” After the words escape from his mouth, he knows it’s a mistake. Because she will probably ask him the same question, and he will have to tell her the truth. That he’s currently out of work.

“Oh, I’m an elementary school teacher. I have always loved being our kids. I come from a big family with older brothers and sisters; by the time I was ten, I was an aunt. And I love being around them. So, when the time came for me to go to college, I  knew I wanted to be a teacher. And I love every moment of it. How about you?”

“Well, actually, right now, I’m out of work. I was fired recently. I worked in the accounting department of a big corporation in downtown Philly. And I became aware of some serious graft taking place in the upper echelon of the corporate offices. And I reported it. I confronted them as well, and they fired me and made sure that every business that might consider hiring me wouldn’t.”

“Oh wow, that’s terrible. It’s so unfair that a man of principle could lose his job and get blackballed from other jobs because he is a man of integrity. Do you have any idea what you can do about it? I know it is against the law for former employers to tell the reason why someone is fired, although they don’t have to give a good reference for employees.”

“That’s true, but since they are connected, they seem to have a great deal of influence in the Philadelphia offices and South Jersey, for that matter.”

“What about looking in Delaware that isn’t that far from the Philly area?”

“That’s true. I hadn’t thought of looking there.”

“As a matter of fact, one of my Uncles owns a fairly large corporation that deals in real estate and mortgages; maybe I could ask him about a possible job opening. I’ll give him a call and tell him about you. Let me write down his contact information and email, and you could send out a query for possible jobs and ask about any current openings.”

“You would do that. That would be amazing. But I don’t want you to think I’m trying to take advantage of you in some way, Eileen.”

“Kyle, it was my idea. You’re not taking advantage of me at all. Put that right out of your mind.”

“Thanks, that would be awesome. Would you like some dessert and a glass of wine before we leave?”

“Yes, that would be perfect, Kyle.”

Kyle motions for the waiter to come over. Can we each have a piece of your wonderful Tiramisu and a glass of Lambrusco?”

“Of course, coming right up, sir.”

After they finish their dessert and sip their wine, Kyle decides to ask Eileen to take a walk around town. “Eileen, I’ve had such a wonderful time. I hate to end it. Would you like to take a walk? It’s beautiful around the city at night.”

“Oh, that sounds wonderful. I seldom come to Philly at night. I would love that.”

After Kyle pays the tab and leaves a tip, they start to get ready to leave, Kyle stands up and waits for Eileen to get up from her seat, but she seems hesitant to get up. “Is something the matter?”

“Well, yes, I have something to confess to you. I hope you won’t be disappointed?’

“Disappointed. I can’t imagine what you could possibly say or do that would upset me?”

“Well, I don’t know how to explain it, but you’ll see soon enough.”

“What is it? I’m sure Eileen is not as bad as you think it is?”

“OK, here it goes.”

Kyle stares at her; he can’t imagine what she’s so worried about. And then, Eileen stands up and steps out of the booth and into the aisle. He stares at her and sees nothing out of the ordinary. He looks at her from the top of her beautiful blond head and at her gorgeous face. And all the way down to her feet. And then he is dumbfounded.

Eileen looks at his shocked face and then waits for him to say something.”

“My god, you have the biggest feet I’ve ever seen on a woman in my whole life. They’re twice as big as my feet.

“Yes, I know. My feet never stopped growing until I was about twenty; by then, they were really big. There wasn’t anything they could do about it. So yes, I have really big feet. I have to have all my shoes made by hand. But other than that, I’m perfectly normal.”

“You’re right. Your feet are enormous. But you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met inside and out. Shall we go for our walk now?”

“Really, I would love that. Let’s go. You know Fred warned me in advance that you always tell the truth, and sometimes you are blunt about it.”

“Yes, that’s true. I’ve never been able to lie at all. I always tell the truth. So, when I say you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met inside and out. It’s the truth.”

Shall we go?”

Kyle takes her hand to his lips and kisses her gently, “Yes, let’s do that. I think this is going to be the first step together, but there is a happy future to look forward to, don’t you?”

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Sweet Dreams

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Most people are blessed with the ability to lie their heads down on their pillow at night and fall fast asleep. Unfortunately, I can’t count myself as one of those people. As far back as I can remember I have struggled with the inability to fall asleep in a timely manner or stay asleep once I was lucky enough to nod off.

Insomnia photo by Dieter Robbins-Pixabay

I have tried all the home remedies over the years warm milk, counting sheep, taking a hot bath, relaxing my muscles one at a time from my toes to my head. You would think the sheer boredom of doing all of these monotonous things would put me to sleep. But no, I was wide-awake and bored. I went through a period of doing as many physically challenging chores as I could do during the day, hoping that sheer physical exhaustion would do the job, but no, no it didn’t.

But then along came Ambien. I had tried over-the-counter sleeping aids. They had no effect on me whatsoever. Ambien came along at just the right time for me. I had recently started having symptoms of menopause. And by that, I mean hot flashes. I had them during the day too. All I had to do was think about something hot, and voila a hot flash would hit me like someone opening the oven door in my face. I would break out in a sweat from head to toe. Couldn’t eat spicy foods anymore, either.

But the hot flashes at night were the worst. I would finally fall asleep after two or three hours of tossing and turning. And then voila a hot flash would wash over my entire body like a heatwave on a hot and humid day in August. I would suddenly wake up, and throw off the sheet and start fanning myself. As a last resort, I would get up, go to the bathroom and pat myself down with a cold washcloth. Then I would go back to bed on top of the covers and put an electric fan on my side table and point it in my direction. This could be in the dead of winter. So, then I was wide awake and sweaty.

I was finally desperate enough that I made an appointment to go to my general practitioner. I absolutely hate going to doctors. I have to be half-dead before I go there. That’s how desperate I was to get some sleep. On the day of my doctor’s appointment, I hadn’t slept in four days. I was like a zombie. I found myself staring off into space, repeating myself, forgetting what I was doing in the middle of a task. Unable to concentrate on anything I was doing. A couple of times I nodded off momentarily while I was driving. That was scary and that was the reason I finally called Dr. Carlyle’s office and made an appointment. They had a cancellation and ask if I could be there in one hour. And I said, hell, yes.

As I sat in the exam room waiting for my doctor to come in I thought of all the reasons I could give him why he absolutely needed to take sleeping pills. I was at my wit’s end, tired, cranky, losing my mind, really.

Dr. Carlyle walk through the door and said, “hello Alex how are you, my it looks like you haven’t been in to see us for a long time. Let’s see it’s been over three and a half years. That’s not good, you should come in for a regular check-up at least once a year. Are you having any problems you would like to discuss?”

“Well, yes there is one problem I have and I have to admit I getting desperate.”

“Desperate, well I don’t like to hear that. What is the nature of the problem?”

“Dr, Carlyle, I can’t sleep. I have great difficulty falling asleep. Sometimes it takes hours while I lie there obsessing about things that have happened during the day. Or some offhand comment someone made to me that upset me for some reason or another. If I’m lucky I’ll fall asleep for an hour or two and then I wake up and I can’t fall asleep again. Or I go to sleep and wake up three or four times.

“Well, let’s take a look at you. I see your weight is alright, your blood pressure is a little low, no temperature. How is your appetite? Do you eat healthy foods? Any family problems or financial issues that might be keeping you awake?”

“No, not really, nothing new anyways. I’m a vegetarian, so I eat a healthy diet. I don’t drink anything with caffeine. I don’t eat sweets. I don’t drink alcohol. No real family issues just the day-to-day stuff. I love my job. So, I’ve always had this problem. It’s not new. I don’t remember a time when I didn’t have trouble going to sleep even when I was a kid.”

“Really, well that’s unusual. I think we should do blood tests if nothing comes back that is out of order, I’m going to put you on a new sleeping medication called Ambien. It has been shown to be helpful for people with long-term insomnia. And so far, there haven’t been any reports of harmful side effects. We’ll start you off on a low dose and then increase it if doesn’t seem strong enough.”

“Oh, that would be fantastic, I would feel better and function better if I was able to sleep at night as most normal people do. When can I start taking it?”

“Well, it will take a couple of days for the lab to come back with the results of your blood work. I’ll have my nurse call the prescription into your pharmacy. So in a few days and you will begin feeling like a new woman.”

“Thank you doctor, so, so much. This will give me a new lease on life.”

“Alright, then Alex give my office a call in a week or two and let me know how you are feeling. I’m positive you will be right as rain in the very near future. If you encounter any problems please feel free to let me know. Take care, now, you can check out now.”

Three days later I received a call from Rite Aid to tell me my prescription was ready to be picked up. And I threw my jacket on over my pajamas and shoved my feet into my shoes and grabbed my purse and was on my way. I fairly flew down the road to the pharmacy.

As I entered Rite Aid, I ran into my neighbor Sherry and she said.” Hello, Alex so nice to see you. Are you feeling alright?”

“Feeling alright, why do you say that?”

“Well, your face is flushed and I couldn’t help but notice that you are wearing your pajamas.”

“Pajamas?” Then I look down at my legs and notice I‘m still wearing my pajamas. “Oh, how silly, I completely forgot I was still wearing my pajamas. I ran out the door so fast. Well, take care. I’ll talk to you later.”

I practically knock her down in my hurry to get past her and get to the pharmacist. I didn’t even look back at her to see if she is alright. I never liked her that much anyway, she has always been such a busy body. I zigzag my way through the people in the store and notice that there are two people ahead of me at the pharmacy counter. Damn, I scream inside my head, damn.

Ten minutes later I have my prescription in my hot little hands and run through the store and out the door to my car. Which I apparently left running, doors unlocked and the driver’s door wide open. I realize I need to calm down before having some kind of stroke or seizure. I’m so wound up and exhausted.

When I arrive home, I sit in my car for a few moments to collect myself. And then I start thinking, why did I rush to the pharmacy like that. I can’t take the pill until tonight before I want to go to bed. I decide I’m going to spend the day listening to music and doing things that will calm me down. Perhaps I’ll read for a while. That always has a calming effect on me.

At 8:30 pm I decide to take a hot bubble bath and get ready for bed. I’m still a little hyper but after my bath, I should feel a lot better. I take one Ambien out of the prescription bottle and down it with a little water from the sink tap. After that, I bring a cup of Sleepy Time herbal tea with me into the bathroom and close the blinds and the bathroom door. I lit two candles that I keep by the tub and slip into the hot soapy water.

The next thing I realize is that I feel like I’m drowning. I think it must be a dream. And then I realize I’m still in the tub and my head has slipped under the water. I pull myself up and spit the water out of my mouth and blow my nose on a washcloth. “Holy Crap, this stuff really works,” I shout to no one in particular. I drag my body out of the now cold water and look at the clock I keep on the bathroom counter. I have been in the tub for an hour. I had fallen fast asleep. I hope I will be able to fall asleep again once I get out of the tub and back into my pajamas and into my bed.

I wake up and look over at the clock and it is seven-thirty in the morning. I feel pretty good, a little bit fuzzy-headed. As I get out of bed, I realize I don’t have any pajamas on. I know I had them on when I went to bed. Huh, that’s weird. I walk towards my bathroom and then I notice the tub is filled with water. I look in the mirror and I notice my hair is sticking out in every direction and it feels damp. I think about it and then out of the depths of my memory, I vaguely remember taking a bath. But that’s about it. I don’t give it a second thought.

I have a productive day. I work from home most days, occasionally I have to go to my work office for meetings. I’m an accountant. Not a glamorous job, but I make a decent living. And for the most part, I can avoid interacting with humans. I’m not what you would call a social person. I eat dinner at 5:30 as usual and then I wash the dishes and clean up the kitchen. I plan on watching a movie tonight. Just as I got comfortable in my chair in the living room the phone rings I look at the caller ID and it’s Thurmond Brown. He’s one of my customers. But it was after my work hours and I have no intention of talking to him tonight. I met him one time at my work office and within the first five minutes, he hit on me. Now, I keep my distance.

I get in my pajamas bring some cookies and a cup of hot tea into the living room and start watching When Harry Met Sally, I know that is a sentimental, unrealistic movie. But, I’m just a succor for a good romance movie. Although in my own life I’m a complete skeptic. About a half-hour before the movie ends, I take my Ambien. And that’s the last thing I remember until I hear my alarm go off and I wake up. My head feels a little off again, but still, nothing to worry about. When I walk into the kitchen to make some coffee and the kitchen looks like a food fight has taken place there. And there are two half-empty wine glasses sitting on the counter amongst what looks like the remains of a chocolate cake with bites taken out of it. “What the…” I say out loud. What the hell is going on?

I decide to go and get a shower and maybe it will clear my head and I’ll remember what happened last night. As I walk toward my bedroom, I notice the phone is blinking. I look at the phone ID and it’s Thurmond Brown. And I think, oh yeah, he called last night and then I realize the phone says two messages. I play the last message back. I hear a man’s voice, “Hey baby, I’m so glad you called me back last night. It was an unbelievable night. I’m sorry I had to leave while the night was young. But I had to get up early this morning to take that business trip to Des Moines that I told you about at the Corporate office. I’ll call you later. By the way, did I mention what a great time I had?”

“What the hell is he talking about, why is this man harassing me?” Then I stamped off to my bedroom. Thinking he must be out of his freaking mind. I go into the bathroom to take a shower and I happen to look in the mirror. I cannot believe my eyes. There is chocolate cake all over my face. And I mean all over my face. Even my forehead, and in one of my ears. “What the hell is going on? This is madness.”

After I shower and get dressed and clean up my entire apartment. I sit down and think about what has been happening the past few days, and I just can not figure out what to make of it all. It appears that I invited Thurmond over and we had some kind of romantic encounter. But that just can not be true. Maybe I am sleeping now and this is all a bad dream. It has to be. I put it out of my mind. I’m sure I will wake up soon and none of this will be real.

I spend the entire day finishing off the accounts that were outstanding and due in two days. I put all the insanity out of my conscious mind. I simply refuse to think about any of it. There must be some rational explanation for it all. Once again, I eat my dinner, tonight I have Chinese take-out delivered. I probably shouldn’t because it gives me horrible heartburn, but I just love spicy food, my stomach seems to disagree.

I decide to read for a while. Although, I’m feeling kind of tired from all the work I completed today. But I can’t sleep this early with all that Chinese food in my stomach or I will wake up feeling sick.

So, I read three chapters and then take Ambien. And off I go to the land of Nod, in no time flat. When I wake up, I hear someone singing in the kitchen. And I see a trail of feathers strewn across the living room floor into the hall and beyond. “What the hell is happening now?”, I yell at the top of my voice. I follow the trail into the kitchen. And what do I see, but a young man who appears to be Chinese is about to cut off the head of a live chicken. I scream, “Stop, stop what you’re doing? What are you doing at my house? Don’t you dare kill that chicken, are you insane?”

“Madame, you called my restaurant and ask to have this meal prepared in your home first this thing this morning.”

“I certainly did not. This is barbaric, I would never want to kill any animal and eat it. I’m a vegetarian.”

“If you say so, madame. But I’m sorry you’ll have to pay for this meal nonetheless.”

I paid him after looking at the receipt. I felt so bad for the chicken I told him that since I paid for the chicken, it was mine to keep. And then I show him the door. So, apparently, I’m the proud owner of a chicken with missing feathers. I hope they will grow back. Right now, I will have to keep him in my bathroom until I can find someone who wants to have a chicken for a pet, or maybe I’ll just keep him. Why not, I seem to be losing my mind. How much trouble can one chicken be?

I plop down on my bedroom chair and contemplate the events of the past few days. And then it comes to me, it must be the Ambien. I must be sleepwalking and sleep talking and eating and apparently having sex with a man in my sleep that I despise. Dear god, what is happening? I call my doctor and demand to speak to him on the phone immediately. His nurse says he can’t talk right now. I’ll have him return your call as soon as he is free.

Three hours later the phone rings and it is my doctor’s office. I ask him if there are any strange side effects from Ambien. He stammers a bit, and then he says, “well there have been some reports of sleepwalking, sleep-driving, and sleep eating and one report of one woman having sex with a stranger while sleeping.”

For a moment I feel like my head is exploding. “And you didn’t think that is something you should have warned me about? Are you completely incompetent? I could have gotten myself killed or worse. I should sue your ass.”

“Alex, I felt the benefits outweighed the risks. And few people experienced these side effects. I had no idea you would be one of those. Did I?”

“You certainly know it was a possibility. This is unbelievable. What do you suggest I do now? If I stop taking the Ambien, I won’t be able to sleep. And I continue taking the Ambien who knows what I will do next in my sleep?”

“I don’t know Alex, but you are the only one who can make this decision. I do suggest you put your car keys in a safe place at night so you won’t sleep drive. Since that could be quite dangerous.”

Oh yeah, thanks, I’ll keep that in mind, doctor.”

So here is my dilemma, should I continue taking the Ambien and getting much-needed sleep or stop because of these sleep adventures? I think about it all day and decide that I’m going to set up some motion detector cameras around my apartment to see what kind of trouble I’m getting into and if it isn’t life-threatening, I will continue to take the Ambien. If it is, I’ll cut the dose in half and see what happens. Because really this is the best sleep I’ve had in years.

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Home Sweet Home

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We have been searching for our perfect house for months now. My husband and I and our two elderly cats have been living in our tiny two-bedroom apartment for over ten years. We finally made the decision that we needed to make the change. I would love to buy a house with character, an older home, but one that has been loved and maintained. Oh, it must have a wrap-around porch with a swing.

Oh, and it has to have a yard with a big tree in it. I can’t take another day off looking out my living room window and seeing a parking lot and the trash dumpster. I would love to create my own rose garden. I’ll plant a grapevine on the wrought iron fence or even a picket fence. Can you imagine walking out to the garden at the end of August and picking luscious grapes from my own vine?

Our realtor sent me some pictures of homes to look over in my email this morning. None of them stood out until I looked at the last house on her list. And I couldn’t believe it. It’s almost as if

Photo by Bob Culver

Victorian House

the house was made for us. It checked every box I had made for my perfect house. I can’t believe how perfect it is.

It is in the part of Pennsylvania that we want to live in, country, but only about a half-hour from Philadelphia. It’s situated on a country lane lined with trees that look like they’re at least fifty years old. There are about twenty houses on the street, not too close to each other so that everyone knows your business, but not so far that you never see your neighbors. I can imagine how beautiful it will be at Christmas time. With all the old trees decorated by the falling snowflakes. And our very own Christmas tree in our front yard.

As soon as I saw this listing, I knew I better call our realtor Katherine and ask her to make an appointment asap to see this house. Today if possible. I would die if someone else got there before we did and bought it from under us. Just die, seriously die from a broken heart.

Anyway, I called her, and she said she would try and make an appointment to see the house after lunch today at about one o’clock. I was so excited I couldn’t eat anything. I even forgot to feed my cats. But they started crying non-stop and reminded me. They’ll probably be mad at me for the rest of the day. I admit it. I have spoiled my cats. They are our children. I know people hate when you say you love your pets like they’re your children, but it’s true. I love them like they were my little furry kids. 

My husband Jeff should be home any minute. He tends to be late, so I told him our appointment was a half-hour earlier than it was. He said he’ll grab a Big Mac and eat it on the way home. So, we won’t be late. I called and reminded him a couple of times. He is somewhat forgetful. He won’t admit it, but he is. The second time I called, he let his phone go to voicemail. I left him a message.

Oh, here he comes now. I’m so excited I could dance a jig. If we get this house, I will never want another thing. Well, that’s not strictly true. We will have to get some more furniture because the house is 2400 square feet, and our apartment is 950 square feet.

And then we will have to get yard tools and a lawnmower. I will agree to take care of the yard and garden. That’s how much I want this house. And I hate summer; I have to avoid sunburn. I’m not twenty anymore. Well, we will work all these little details out, no doubt. Jeff wants to move out of this apartment as much as I do. We will have a big bedroom, and he can have his own office, and I will finally have my own space where I can do my artwork and sew and listen to my kind of music with earphones, of course. It is absolutely a dream come true.

Oh, here he is, and I think I see Sharon, our realtor pulling her car up behind his. Yeah!!!

“Hi, honey, I’m home.” 

I run to the door and practically jump into his arms. I’m so excited. “Oh, Jeff, I feel so good about this house. I know this is the one we have been dreaming about all these years. Oh, here comes Sharon. Do you want to make a pit stop in the bathroom before we go? That will give me time to talk to Sharon, so she will understand how much we want to get this house.”

“Alright, Kathleen, but please do not get your heart set on this house before we even see it. We both know that the pictures of these houses for sale can be quite deceiving.”

“What, are you out of your mind, Jeff? This is going to be our house.  I feel it deep in my bones. This is it. Don’t try to bring me down. For once, let me be happy. Why are you always so negative? You never let me have one moment of happiness?”

“Kathleen, all I want for you is to be happy and not heartbroken. Let’s go see this house and then talk to Sharon about it before you go off the deep end.”

I was beginning to get upset with Jeff’s defeatist attitude. But I decided to try and calm down. I take some deep breaths and slowly let them out, as my Yoga instructor taught me to do when I get angry or upset. I have to admit I’m a little high-strung. But hey, can’t I be excited about something once in a while? 

Jeff let Sharon in our front door, and as usual, she looked like she was ready for anything. She has that determined look on her face. Her lips are pursed, and her eyes are narrow. I think I hear her teeth grinding. I have a feeling she would like nothing better than for us to buy a house so she will be done with us. It’s been a long six months. And we have seen nearly every home in our price range and a few out of our price range. Which I know is a waste of time. But I do so love looking at these beautiful, old homes.

“Hello, people, Kathleen, Jeff, are we ready to go? I have a feeling that this is going to be your lucky day. Let’s be on our way, shall we? Do you want to go in my car or follow me?”

“Jeff, what do you think?”

“I think we should go in our car; that way, Sharon doesn’t have to drive us back here. She can go home or go to her office without having to drive out here to our apartment.”

“Alright then, let’s be on our way. Here’s the address, just in case you lose sight of my car. You can get to the house by yourself, and I’ll wait outside for you until you guys show up.”

Sharon smiles, I guess she means it to be a smile, but it’s more like a grimace. She’s ready for us to buy a house. So, she can be done with us. And so, we all walk out the front door and into our respective vehicles. We take Jeff’s car since, even though his air conditioner is broken. And he hasn’t had time to get it fixed. 

We follow Sharon without any difficulty because she drives like she’s about a hundred years old. However, I think she is younger than I am. Probably about thirty years old. She doesn’t seem to enjoy her job. She is competent, but somehow her personality is strident and somewhat abrasive. But she has spent so much time trying to help us find that perfect house I don’t have the heart to look for another realtor. Anyway, today is the day, and I’m certain that this will be our house.

After about a half-hour, I see Sharon putting her right turn signal on, and I realize we are on the street where our house is located. All the houses are different from one another. But still, there is a sense that they all belong together. The houses are well taken care of; the yards are well-kept. There aren’t any people outside right now, but that’s because it’s a workday for most of them. Anyway, it looks like a quiet neighborhood. And after living in an apartment for ten years and hearing every fight, kids running around screaming their lungs out all day and night. We can use some peace.

I’m staring at the house from inside the car I hear a sudden knocking on my window, and I almost jump out of my skin. I was so startled. It’s Sharon trying to get my attention. I laughed and mouthed “sorry” to her. And she steps back while I open the door. “Oh, sorry, Sharon, I guess I was daydreaming. Let’s go, Jeff.”

“I was waiting for you, Kathleen.”

Jeff always has to have the last word. I ignore his remark and get out of the car. “Oh, Sharon, it looks just like the picture on the internet. I love it already.”

As we walk up the slate sidewalk, I admire the garden in the front yard. There’s a grapevine growing on the wrought iron fence. It is knurled and twisted and growing in both directions on the fence. It looks like it has been there a hundred years. On the sideyard, there is a fig tree. And a rose garden with vintage roses. There are slate pathways on either side of the house. The yard is not huge, but it is perfection. There is a wraparound porch with Victorian furniture on it and on either sidelight that stand about eight feet tall and look as if they came from a museum. I begin to feel a little faint. I’m so enamored with this house I can hardly speak.

“Well, what do you think, Kathleen?”

“What do I think? I think that I’m in love with this house. I can’t imagine why it is still on the market.”

“Well, the only thing I read was that the family that lived here moved out suddenly and put it on the market. They moved to upstate New York. And they haven’t been back here since. Their realtor is handling the whole thing. Come on, I have the key to the lockbox; let’s take a look. “

“What do you think, Jeff?”

“I don’t know what to think; there must be some kind of catch.”

“Ok, we can go in now, I had a little trouble with the lockbox, and then the key wouldn’t turn in the lock.”

Then we walk through the entryway. I can’t believe what’s before my eyes. To the left of the door is a stairway and a living room to the right. The floors are all hardwood and in perfect shape. There’s a double door to the dining room with a swinging door into the kitchen. A crystal chandelier hangs from the dining room ceiling. As I look around, I realize all the rooms are furnished. “Sharon, all the furniture is still here. Does the house come furnished? It looks like it’s all authentic Victorian?”

“Yes, it is being sold with all the furniture. They’re anxious to sell. But The owners are not going to go down in the price. But it is within your budget. Wait until you see the rest of the house. It is unbelievably beautiful.”

Jeff and I look at each other with disbelief on our faces. I break out in a cold sweat. I was waiting for the bad news about the house. I know there has to be something not quite right for this house to be in our price range. And it was furnished with all these gorgeous authentic antiques. I was willing to make an offer at their asking price. No questions asked, but I know Jeff wouldn’t give in that easily.

As we head up the stairs, Sharon tells us there are three bedrooms and two bathrooms plus the half bath downstairs. Each room is more beautiful than the next. The main bedroom is enormous. It has a ten-foot ceiling with two chandeliers. There’s a king-size bed in the room and two dressers. l  look into the bathroom, I thought I noticed a woman slipping into the second bedroom. “Oh, Sharon, there’s someone in the house. I just saw a young girl slip into that second bedroom.”

“What? No, there can’t be, I have the only key to the house. So, no one else could get in here unless they broke in. Let’s take a look, shall we? Jeff looks at me like I have lost my mind. “I didn’t see anyone.”

“Well, I did, at least I think I did.”

We all walk down the hall and peek into the room.  There’s a child-sized four-poster bed and a stunning-looking dresser.  There are Victorian sconces on either side of the bed on the side walls. They had crystals hanging from them. The light from the windows plays off of them and is reflected on the pale blue walls. Sharon and Jeff are looking out the windows. And I hear Jeff say, Oh, my god, there’s a balcony over there outside the main bedroom. How did I miss that?  I open the closet and look in, and there’re empty hangers on the clothes pole. I step out of the closet and go over to the dresser and pull open the top drawer. I see a small piece of paper. I pick it up, and I read it. It says, “This is our house. We will never leave.”

It’s written in somewhat childish handwriting. It’s signed, Phoebe. The paper looks handmade. It’s embossed with roses and daffodils and has a family crest on it. And the handwriting is written in a stylized script that I remember my great-grandmother used to write in when I was a young child.

Just as I’m about to show the note to Sharon and Jeff, the closet door opens slightly by itself. And a small face peers out. She looks about ten years old but is wearing Victorian clothes that look brand new. She puts her finger up to her lips as if to tell me not to disclose her presence and then steps back into the closet and silently closes the door. I put the note into my pocket. I decided that this was going to be my little secret. Besides, sometimes I get so lonesome when Jeff has to work long hours and goes on all his business trips.

“Sharon says, let’s go downstairs and look at the kitchen and the backyard. There is a two-car garage and a small pond back there. But I warn you, it’s small but stunning.”

As we walk down the long hall towards the winding staircase, I hear Jeff peppering Sharon with questions about the heating system and the roof. I walk slowly and look back down the hall, and I see the little girl and a woman wearing a long dress with a full skirt and a mustache man wearing a Victorian suit. They’re looking at me. So, I smile and wave, and they smile and wave back. I realize that they’re going to be part of my family now. But I think it is going to be my little secret. It’s clear that Jeff and Sharon can’t see them.

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