Author Archives: Susan

EVERY ROSE GARDEN HAS ITS’ THORNS

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Masks by Robert P. Culver

Masks by Robert P. Culver

I wake up with a faint memory of a dream I had during the night. I close my eyes and try to recapture the dream. In my mind’s eye, I glimpse an image of my father’s rose garden. I can remember how red the roses were and the overpowering fragrance that lived in that garden when the roses were in full bloom.

My father passed away over thirty years ago. Although I don’t think of him every day. I think of him often. Of all the people in my life, as I grew up, he influenced me more than anyone else.

He was a highly intelligent man, who had read widely and had a large vocabulary. He held high standards for whatever he did to the point of being a perfectionist. I admit I too am a perfectionist and spent untold hours reading and learning and trying to understand life. He was a man of action. If something needed to be done, no ifs, ands, or buts he did it.

I’m an introspective person. Over the course of my lifetime, I have examined every inch of my psyche. I believe Socrates stated, “An unexamined life is one not worth living.”

Of course, that doesn’t mean that I don’t make mistakes. I do. But I rarely make the same mistake twice. However human nature being what it is there are unlimited mistakes waiting on the sidelines to be made by every one of us each day, myself included.

And this story is about what could have been one of those mistakes. It happened about twelve years ago. When I was still in the bloom of my youth. I’m not and have never been a beautiful woman. But even I admit that I have certain physical characteristics that attract the opposite sex. I have a ready smile and a friendly countenance. And I have a figure that draws attention wherever I go. Whether I’m looking for attention or not. Of course, that’s neither here nor there. I just thought you should know that I wasn’t always old.

I‘m standing in line at the bank. I’m a graphic artist and I work from home in my art studio. I also paint surreal paintings. That usually includes birds. But I’ve never tried to sell any of them. I become emotionally attached to them and only sell the prints of my work.

Anyway, I was standing there for quite a while since it was lunchtime and apparently, a great many people decided that today would be the day to make their deposits and withdrawals. Finally, I ‘m next in line when I hear a loud commotion behind me. Someone shouted,” Get down on the floor, everyone.”

I didn’t really pay any attention as I was developing an idea for my next painting. I heard someone say,” you too, honey.” And then I felt someone grab my shoulders roughly. I look up at the teller. I couldn’t help but notice that her eyes are open wide and look as big as silver dollars, and she’s sweating profusely.

The next thing I know I’m on the floor. “Keep your head down lady,”
“What the hell is going on?” I shout. If there’s one thing I can’t stand it is being manhandled. Or being told what to do for that matter. That’s why I am self-employed.

“Get your filthy hands off of me you neanderthal.”

“One more word out of you lady and you won’t have any teeth to chew with tomorrow.”
I decide my best choice at this moment is to sit down, stay down, and contemplate my next step. But I know before this day is done, I‘m going to make this thug regret the day he was born.

I hear another voice yell out,” alright, everyone keep your head down and your mouth shut. Do as your told and no one will get hurt.”

I look around as surreptitiously as I can. So that I won’t garner any attention from any of the robbers. I’m lying on the floor with my head resting on my folded arms. I slowly turn my head from side to side. I move my legs slightly until I can see to the right and the left and ultimately behind me. I can see that there are three robbers. The one who pushed me down, the one who was yelling and ordering everyone to get down, and the one at the door.

They’re all wearing carnival masks. You know the elaborate ones that people wear in New Orleans during the Mardi Gras. The husky guy that pushed me down to the floor is wearing a gold and black mask not unlike a harlequin mask. It has musical notes on the gold sections, and the guy at the tellers’ counter yelling out the orders is wearing a similar mask except it is more of a jester with a headpiece with gold bells on it. The robber at the door who I only caught a glimpse of is wearing a mask that looks like an ornate Renaissance bird mask.

For the first few minutes, my mind keeps telling me that this is some kind of elaborate hoax or even a joke. I mean it was all so absurd. And you know what else? It’s damn inconvenient. I have work to do at home. I don’t have time for this kind of melodramatic nonsense. I’m hoping any minute they will all burst out laughing and say,” just kidding folks, go back to what you were doing.”

I glance up and notice the teller, a middle-aged woman who probably has spent her entire working career, depositing checks and handing out small amounts of cash. She looks so terrified that she keeps dropping the stacks of money she’s handing over to the jester. I think she might just keel over and die of a heart attack any minute. The Jester screams at her, “move it lady, or I’ll hit you so hard sorry your mama will feel it.”

That’s when I said, “Hey, leave her alone, you bastard.” And the guy closest to me walks over and kicks me hard in the side. I think for a moment I might pass out. I can’t remember ever being hit so hard in my life.

Except for when I was young and my sister and I used to get into these fights that started out by calling each other names and ended up with us pinching, punching, and pulling hair out. The weird thing is I can never remember what we used to fight about all. We were just mad at each other all the time. We never told on each other to our parents because we knew our father would make us sorry if we did.

I just laid there for a while. I don’t really know how long. I kept my eyes tightly shut trying to pretend this all wasn’t happening. And then I start getting really mad. It feels like my blood is actually boiling and my head might just explode all over the room.

I know the smart thing to do is to just lie there and wait for them to get the money and leave. I’m wondering if the teller set off the silent alarm. My sister-in-law worked as a teller for years and she told me that the bank employees are always told to cooperate, and give up the money. Because money can be replaced but they couldn’t. They were advised never to do anything crazy.

Plus, the amount of money that is kept in the teller’s cash drawer at any one time is limited. The rest of the money and valuables are kept in the vault and the tellers don’t know the codes to open the safe.

Then the robber yells out, “Ok everybody on the floor, get up and get in a single file you’re going to move into that office over there. Don’t anybody try to be a hero. Unless you want to be a dead hero. Do what you’re told and this will all be over soon.”

As we all start getting into a line, the husky guy says, “Ok, everyone put your cell phones in this bag, don’t try anything funny. I have a gun, and I ain’t afraid to shoot you. Two of the older ladies standing there start crying along with a young mother who’s holding a baby in her arms. “Stop that racket right now, hand over your phones, and walk toward the office on the right. When you get there lie on the floor with your hands behind your back.”

The young mother with the baby says,” I can’t put my hands behind my back, I have to hold my baby. And she is going to start crying soon. Since it is past her time to be fed and she needs her diaper changed.”

“Alright, feed the baby but I don’t want to hear that baby of yours crying or I’m going to lock her in the safe before we leave. Do you understand?”

The young mother said, “yes.” And then she starts sobbing. I start to see red. No-one would look at me and think that I have a temper. I’m also soft-spoken and generous to a fault. But humans are complex creatures full of ambiguity. I can be open and loving in one moment and in the next if someone says something to me that is unfair or untruthful, I can go off like a bottle rocket. My anger isn’t long-lasting but while it’s hot, it’s powerful and out of control.

“What the hell do you think you are doing intimidating a young mother with a baby? You low-life creatine.”

The next thing I know he’s looming over me like the sword of Damocles ready to chop my head off. He leans down to smack me and I grab both his ankles and yank as hard as I can. And he comes down like a tree after a chainsaw hits it. His head hits the floor hard and he stops moving altogether. His mask flies off. He looks like he is middle-aged. He has pock scars from a really bad case of acne and he is missing several of his front teeth. I check and he’s still breathing. His breath smells like something died in there recently.

Everyone in the room gasps. One of the men whispers,”. Have you lost your mind? They are going to come in here and shoot all of us.”

“Did you expect me to just stand there and let this pig hit me or worse? Would you let him beat you up without fighting back? Huh? Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

I quickly glance out the office windows and I don’t see the other two robbers immediately. And then I see them standing next to the safe with the manager.” No, they’re busy trying to get the safe open. Any of you men have a belt on? If you do bring them over here and we can restrain this guy. Two of the men bring over their belts. The larger of the two men pull off his belt and pulls the robber’s arms behind his back and wraps the belts around the robber’s wrists and then around his waist. The other guy puts his belt around the robber’s ankles.

I whisper, “anybody have any cloth to shove in the bastard’s mouth?”

The baby’s mother, says, “Hey, you can use my babies’ blanket.”
I consider shoving the blanket down the guy’s throat. But at the last moment reconsider and I end up just wrapping the baby blanket around his head twice and then tying it in a big knot behind his head. I’m fairly certain he won’t suffocate.

“Ok, we have to shove this guy over next to the wall so if the other two looks in here they won’t notice their buddy is knocked out on the floor right away.”

“And then what are we going to do when the other two wise up and start wondering what happened to this guy here?”

“Well, that’s a good question. I will have to contemplate that for a few moments. But if they do come in here. I will cop to the whole thing and tell them none of you had anything to do with it.”

“Oh yeah, because you look like you could take a fat guy like this down all by yourself.”
A man in a grey suit said, “OK, that’s enough arguing let’s just figure out what we are going to do. We can’t undo what’s been done already. Any ideas?”

“Do any of you have any weapons or know any martial arts?”

There was a deafening silence. And then I said, “So, we have no weapons, but we do outnumber them. I just counted and we have seventeen people and there are only two of them out there. We are also at an advantage because we’re smarter than they are. Let’s face it if they were better at life, they wouldn’t be robbers. They would be bank presidents and lawyers and politicians.”

“We can distract them. We can all start making a ruckus and when one of them comes in to investigate what’s happening, we take him down the same way. While he is trying to figure out what is going on, we rush him all at once.”

“That sounds like an opportunity to get someone killed if you ask me. Another man said. What’s stopping him from killing one of us?”

“Well for one thing we don’t even know that they have guns, do we? In fact, I’m positive they don’t or they would have shown them right off the bat, just to intimidate us.”

A young man with pink hair suddenly spoke up,” you know she’s right they would have shown us at the get-go if they had weapons. Let’s all starting yelling and screaming until one or both of them come in here to investigate and swarm them. Well, maybe not all of us. None of the older people, or the lady with the baby.”

And then I said, “I’ll start yelling at the top of my lungs one of them will come over and tell us to shut up and we gang up on him and beat him down. Anyone else have a belt so we can restrain him? And the last guy is going to run because he can’t stop all of us.”

A middle-aged man said, “I think the better course would be to just stay in here and be quiet, and eventually they will get want they want and leave.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, what about this guy here. Won’t they wonder what happened to him?”

“You know it’s weird that one of them hasn’t come over to see what happened to this guy?
“Well, you know there’s no honor among thieves. Come on, let’s start screaming like bloody murder. Most likely the next guy that comes over here is going to take a look in here before he comes through that door. So, let’s be ready to jump him when he comes in, get him down to the floor, and restrain him. Anybody that has a belt get it out and be ready to hold him down. Then we keep making a racket until the other robber freaks out and takes off. Most likely they have some money by now and he’ll just take off. On the count of three everybody starts screaming like we’re being murdered.”

“One, two, three scream.”

And then we all screamed so loud that we all got freaked out and screamed even louder. No one came to the door. I looked out the window and I couldn’t see the robbers at all. But I did see the police pulling up to the curb. “I yelled the police are here, the police are here. And then I started banging on the door. “Let us out. Let us out. We’re in here.”

About a minute later, a cop opened the door. We were still standing there in front of the unconscious robber. He just stared at us for a moment, and said, “Is everyone alright? Where is the other robber?”

We stepped aside and he looked down at the body. “Is he dead? What’s been going on in here?”

“No, he’s unconscious. He kicked me because I told him to stop threatening the young mother with the baby. So, I pulled him down and we restrained him with belts.”

“That was dangerous. What would you have done, if he had a gun?” Said the police officer.

“Well, he didn’t. Did he?”

“You didn’t know that.”

“Well, logic told me, they didn’t. Or they would have shown the guns when they walked in and start threatening everyone. Plus, there are seventeen of us and only three of them.”

The cop looked at me with a smirk on his face and said, “well, you were all lucky this time, next time you might not be that lucky.”

“I sure as hell hope we never have to be robbed again to prove your point. Can we get out of here now or what?”

“Yes, you can get out of here but you’re all going to have to give statements before you leave.”
Everyone in the room moaned at the same time. “Can’t we do this another time?” No, you have to do it now before you forget all the details. You can do it here or you can come downtown to the police precinct and fill out a report there. It’s up to you.”

And that’s when we all started filing one by one out of the office, mumbling, and complaining. “A young officer came over and said, “who wants to go first?”

I said, “I do.” One of the middle-aged men said, “well, that figures.”

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The Letter

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It had been six long years since I heard from my brother. Although to be honest I was the one that moved away not him. But still, he never attempted to contact me. I have always been a letter writer. I prefer writing to calling people because it is easier for me to share my deeper feelings with words on paper rather than on the phone.

Empty Envelope

I‘ve written to him numerous times over those six years and sent an array of birthday cards and Christmas cards. There wasn’t any response from him none at all.

I decided to write a note to my mother and ask her to ask my brother to write to me. She asked him, and he said he would and finally he did. Unfortunately, when I received the “letter” there was only an empty envelope and no letter. Apparently, he forgot to seal the letter or forgot to put the letter in the envelope and seal it.

The day I received the letter I happened to be looking out the front window of my apartment and notice that the mailman was in the process of putting mail in the mailboxes. I watched him as he walked away and then I took the steps two at a time down the stairs from my second-floor apartment. I pulled out the mail and I thought at first it was just more bills. But then I noticed a hand-written legal envelope. And I immediately recognized my brother’s address. I was so happy I couldn’t wait to get upstairs fast enough to my apartment to open it.

The disappointment I felt when I opened the envelope and realized it was empty was profound. Immediately, I felt a tear spring to my eyes. It just felt like a slap in the face. And it reinforced the feeling that I always held that my brother just didn’t care about me at all, not now, not ever. And that he didn’t like me.

The only other correspondence I received from him before was a birthday card when I turned twenty-one. On the front of the card was the legend, “Your parents didn’t know what true happiness was until you were born. And, on the inside, it said, “And then it was too late.” I never forgot what that card said and the effect it had on my self-worth and self-esteem was devastating.

My brother had a sarcastic sense of humor and I suppose he picked that card for me because he thought it was funny. But I did not. It just reinforced to me that my brother did not care about me or how I felt. It felt like a knife driven directly to my heart.

Please don’t tell me that I was being too sensitive. My brother knew that I was a sensitive person and yet he sent me that card. Actions and words have a power that can build you up or they can burn you to the ground.

Anyway, the day I received the empty envelope I called my mother and told her that I got an envelope from my brother but no letter. She must have spoken to my brother about it because a few weeks later I did receive a short letter from my brother. He stated that he had no idea what happened to the original letter and that he had looked all over for it and couldn’t find it. And so, this letter was going to be abbreviated because he was busy with his work and his family responsibilities.

He told me how his kids were doing, and how he and his wife had enjoyed their latest vacation. And he talked about his work. And then he went on to talk about our parents and other family members. He wished me luck and said that hopefully someday I would move back home or at least closer.

There was nothing I could really put my finger on and say he should have said this or he should have said that. But still, whatever it was that I needed to hear from him I didn’t hear it.

I can only speak from my perspective and speculate about how my brother felt about me. He never talked to me at length about anything. When I moved out of state, I was twenty-one and he was forty. We didn’t grow up together. By the time I came into the picture, he was a grown man. He joined the military, not by choice but because he was called up to serve. And then after he returned home, he went to college and later moved out of the country to study for his Ph.D. So, we did not share the usual experiences that siblings share.

But I can remember from a very young age of being in awe of my big brother. He was everything that I would hope to be in life. Someone who was a success, who set goals for his life and achieved them. He was a husband, father, and professional that was making a difference in people’s lives.

I used to brag about my brother to anyone and everyone that would listen. I thought he was the smartest person I knew.

When I finally moved back to my home state after seven years, I realized that living closer wasn’t going to magically bring me closer to my siblings including my brother. I made every effort to see them as often as they allowed which was usually on holidays. I also realized that if I was going to see them then I was the one who was going to have to go visit them, they wouldn’t be visiting me.

By the time I moved back home I was married. My husband and I stayed with my parents at my childhood home for about eight months and then we bought a small house in a neighboring town. We lived there for almost fourteen years. My brother came over twice in those years. We saw each other at family gatherings at Christmas, Fourth of July picnics, baptisms, and weddings and funerals.

It’s not as if there was any kind of animosity between us. We had never an argument or disagreement. It was more like we were strangers that occasionally met over the years at parties but never really got to know one another.

And now the years have flown by quickly. We had children and moved to a bigger home that we renovated. My brother came and looked at our house right after we moved into it and then about fifteen years later we held a family Thanksgiving and my whole extended family came including my brother came.

And my children grew up as children do. My husband and I retired and moved to another state. My brother seemed angry at me when we moved away and he stayed angry. Every time I called him, he asked me,” Are you still happy with your decision to move away? Are you finding what you were looking for? I would respond we moved here because it is less expensive to live here and the housing and taxes are cheaper. Otherwise, my husband and I couldn’t have afforded to retire at all. It was a difficult decision for me to move away from my extended family and one of my daughters. But it was a necessary one for us.

My sister-in-law passed away and my brother told me not to come to the funereal. I kept calling my brother and he persisted in telling me not to call him anymore. He said he would call me when he wanted to talk to me. And the last time I called him, he told me he never wanted to speak to me again. Five days later he passed away. To say I was heartbroken is to minimize the emptiness and heartache I felt and still feel.

I will never have the opportunity to talk to him and tell him how much I loved him all my life. And how much I admired him and looked up to him since I was a young child. I will never see his face again except in family photos.

It will be three years next April since he passed. I do not think about him every day as I did right after our last conversation. But sometimes at night when I can’t fall asleep, I think about him and wish that we had a closer relationship that many people have with their family members.

I will always miss my brother. I am still proud of all his accomplishments and all the people he treated in his practice. He was an intelligent man and a funny one. I can’t speak to his other relationships but I do wish he had made a space in his heart where I could have fit.

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EMILY

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`Emily is a quiet child, who keeps to herself. She has a vivid imagination. She rarely shares her thoughts and dreams with anyone including her family. Who consider Emily to be shy and awkward and silent. When they ask a question Emily will nod or shake her head, if pressed for a better response she will answer, “No, Mom or no, Dad. She ignores her sibling’s questions all together.

Emily spends her time reading books that she borrows from the library. And when she’s reading a book, she is so immersed in the stories that she reads that she will often take on the persona of the main character or the character that reminds Emily of herself.

Her parents understand that Emily is a shy and lonely child who lives in her imagination and in the books she reads. Her siblings just think she is weird and awkward and either ignore her or complain about her. “Mom, she is being weird again. Come look at her.” Says Carol, one of Emily’s older sister’s “Mom, come here.”

When Emily’s mother goes into the kitchen, she looks all around and doesn’t see Emily. “Emily, Emily, where are you? Are you hiding?” And then from under the kitchen table, Emily’s mother hears what for all the world sounds like barking. “What’s that noise?”

“Mom, that’s Emily she’s under the table, barking.”

“What?” And then Emily’s mother looks under the kitchen table and sure enough, there’s Emily under the table in her pajamas. “Emily come out from under there right now.” Then she hears another bark. “Now, Emily.”

Emily slowly emerges from under the kitchen table. But she’s on all fours. She’s wearing her flannel winter pajamas. But attached to the back of the pajamas is a tail of some sort. Emily’s mother tries to suppress a smile, but just can’t. She just never knows what this child will do. It was always something harmless. But her older children were so different from this one. This child is the wild child, creative, imaginative, always pretending she is something other than herself.

“Emily, what are you up to today?”

“Nothing Mom I was just pretending to be a dog.”

“Oh, is that so? For any reason in particular?”

“Well, I was reading a book about dogs. And I just got to thinking about how great dogs are and how much I love them. And mom more than anything I really want to get a dog.”

“A dog Emily, oh I don’t know about that. We will have to talk to your father about that. I’ll ask him about it when he gets home from work. If he says no, then that will be the end of the discussion. You understand, that, right? If Dad says no, then it’s no. He never changes his mind.”

“OK, Mom. If Dad says no, then no more discussion.”

Emily isn’t worried about her father saying no at all. Because one time when her Daddy was talking to her he told her that more than anything when he was growing up, he wanted to have a dog. But, he couldn’t because he grew up in an orphanage and they didn’t allow dogs there. So, Emily was absolutely positive that he would love to have a dog.

Emily watches out the front kitchen window for her father to come home. Her mother is standing at the stove and preparing dinner. Tonight, it’s stew. Emily just loves stew especially when her mother made a crust to put on the top of the pot and then cooked it in the oven. It smells delicious. She keeps saying, “Mom, why is dad getting home so late?”

“Emily he’s not late your just anxious. Whatever you do, don’t start nagging your father the moment he walks through the door. Sometimes he’s in a bad mood when he gets home. He works hard and then he has a long drive home. So just say hello, and leave the rest up to me. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, I understand, don’t bug him. I won’t. I’ll just say hello and then go upstairs to my room.”

“Good, do that. Oh, here comes your father now. Remember what I said.”

As Emily’s father came through the door, she yelled out loudly, “Hi Daddy, how are you?”

Emily’s father looked over at his wife and said, “Ok, what’s up?”

Emily’s mother gave her “the look” and Emily said, “see you later dad” And she flew up the steps.

“Ok, what’s going on?”

“First you have to promise not to go off the deep end. “

“Ok, I’m listening.”

“Emily wants to get a dog.”

“A dog. Why?”

“I guess she gets lonely. And she said that one time you told her that when you were growing up you really wished you could get a dog.”

“Well, I guess I did say that a time or two. Let me think about it overnight and I‘ll let you know tomorrow morning.”

The next morning Emily is back under the table barking at everyone that came through the doorway into the kitchen. Finally, Emily’s older sister Jacqueline comes into her mother and father’s room and said,” Mom, Emily’s acting weird again, barking from under the kitchen table at everyone that comes into the kitchen. Mom, why is she so weird?”
“Jacqueline, do not call your sister a name. Families stick together. They do not call each other hurtful names. Do you understand? You should know better by now. Do you understand now?”

“Ok Mom, but could you at least talk to her and tell her not to bark at my friends when they come over this afternoon?”

“Yes, Jacqueline I can do that. Dad and I have decided that we are going to get Emily a dog to keep her company. And that should keep her busy. But keep in mind Jacqueline that the most creative and intelligent people are usually a little different than other people. And also, Emily is still a little girl. So, don’t expect her to act as you do. You are ten years older than her. “

“Ok, but I’m not taking care of any dog. So, Emily will have to understand it is her dog and she is responsible for it.”

“No one said it was your responsibility Jacqueline, calm down.”

“Alright, Mother, if you say so.”

Later that day after Emily comes home from school her mother calls her into the kitchen. “Emily please come downstairs for a moment please.”

Emily screams out as loud as she could, “Ok, Mom I’ll be right down.”

Then Emily flies down the steps two at a time and runs into the kitchen. “What did he say, Mom? What did he say?”

“Calm down Emily. He said yes.”

“Really, really I can’t believe it. It’s a miracle. He never says yes about anything.”

“Well, he said yes today, and on Saturday morning we are going to go to the Animal Shelter and pick out a dog for you.”

Emily runs over to her mother and practically throws herself at her mother with such force that the two of them almost topple down. “Emily, for crying out loud are you trying to kill the two of us.”

“Sorry Mom, I’m just so happy. I can’t believe it. This is the best thing that ever happened to me in my whole life. It’s a miracle.”

“Well, I don’t know about a miracle but just remember this dog is going to be your total responsibility. You have to take him for walks, clean up his messes, play with him. He will be your dog. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mom, I do and I will take care of him. I promise.”

Emily is so excited about getting a dog that she couldn’t fall asleep until three o’clock in the morning. Her mother has to wake her up at ten o’clock the next day. “Emily, I thought you would be up at the crack of dawn. Get up your father is waiting for you.”

“Oh, no. I’ll be right down. Tell dad to wait for me, Mom.”

“Emily, he’s not going to leave without you.”

Emily throws on her clothes and all but flew down the steps. “I’m here Dad, I’m here. Let’s go.”

“Alright, Emily, calm down already.”

Emily asks her father ten times if they’re almost there yet. He finally says, Emily if you say that one more time we’re going to go home.”

“Sorry, I’m just excited I’ll be quiet.”

As they pull into the parking lot at the shelter Emily can hear a lot of dogs barking excitedly. “We’re here, we’re here daddy. Stop, stop.”

“I have stopped Emily, calm down or we’re not going in there.”

“Ok, I’m calm, I’m calm. Let’s go. “

As they enter the shelter the barking gets louder and louder. Emily’s father steps up to the counter he says, “Hello, my name is Harry Rice. I called yesterday about finding a dog for my daughter.”

“Of course, Mr. Rice I remember I was the one who talked to you. And is this the lucky young lady who’s getting a new best friend?’

“Yes, yes I am how did you know?”

Because your dad called yesterday and talked to me about it. Let’s go have a look shall we.”

As they step through the second set of doors the noise is deafening. There’s a line of kennels each one holding a different dog. They start walking past all the dogs.

“Wait, where are you going, I wanted to pick out a dog.”
“Well, we are going to look at the puppies. You want a puppy, don’t you?”

“No, no I want a grown-up dog. I want to meet the dog that has been here the longest, the one that really wants a family and needs one now, not later. That’s the dog I want.”

“Emily, are you sure you don’t want a puppy?”

“Yes, Daddy I want a grown-up dog.”
“Alright, then let’s go meet your new dog young lady.   They walk to the far end of the kennels and at the back of the kennel is a dog that looks so sad, so forlorn that Emily starts crying. “Oh, Daddy that’s my dog that’s him. Oh, I love him let’s get him out of that cage now.”

The shelter attendant looks at Emily’s father and says, “Really, that’s wonderful. This dog’s name is Rudy and he’s been here for almost eight months. His family had to give him up when they had to move to another state because the father lost his job. He’s my favorite dog in here. I just know he will be happy with you Emily. Let’s see if I can coax him out of the cage. She opens the gate and calls him, “Rudy, come on out. This is Emily and she’s going to be your new best friend.”

Emily sits down on the floor outside the cage and whispers “Rudy, Rudy, Rudy.” He looks up with sad eyes and when he sees Emily on the other side of the cage, he slowly moves closer to the door. And when he gets close enough to Emily, she puts her arms around his neck and hugs him tightly. “Hi Rudy, hi Rudy, I love you. Let’s go home, Rudy.”

Emily’s father looks down at his little girl and says “Well it looks like this is our new dog. Come on Rudy, let’s go home.”

And Emily yells out, “thank you, daddy, thank you so much. I promise I will take care of him for the rest of his life.

And she did. She loved that dog with all her heart for the rest of his days. They became each other’s best friends.

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Trash Can Fire

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It’s my first day off from work in over a month. And I’m looking forward to finishing the book I started a month ago The Anthill Chronicles. I know that sounds like a weird title for a book, but it is a spellbinding story. Anyway, I was standing at the stove and making a grilled cheese sandwich with fried green tomatoes. I had already made a salad and poured a tall glass of ice tea and a small dish of peach yogurt. And then I plan on eating lunch on my screened-in back porch and watching the Koi swim around the pond I built three years ago. 

I place my lunch down on my small kitchen table and when something catches my eye, a flash of light. I stare out my kitchen window and I see my neighbor is burning something in his backyard. My first thought is he shouldn’t be burning anything today, it’s too windy. And then I see him pouring a liquid that I could only assume was gasoline onto the fire. Since he was holding a red gas can in his hand.

“Holy Shit,” I scream at the top of my lungs. The fire climbs high in the sky and then I hear a scream. My neighbor, his name is Joe is jumping up and down. I guess he’s trying to stamp out the fire in the leaves that surround him. I look for my cell phone to call 911 when I remember that I left it upstairs on the charger since I didn’t want my reading to be interrupted by my cell ringing.

I grab the tablecloth off the kitchen table and double-time it out to the backyard. By the time. I get to the back of my yard the leaves are actively burning and so is my neighbor. There’s a gate between my neighbor’s backyard and mine so I run as quickly as I can through the gate and over to the other side of the fence.

I throw the tablecloth over my neighbor to smother the flames. But the dry leaves all around his feet are burning. I try to get him to move away from the leaves but he’s in such a panic he’s frozen to the spot where he was standing. He is a lot bigger than I am and I can’t make him budge. So, then I run over to the side of his house and turn on the water faucet and start spraying him and the grass around him with water.

By now the fire was all but extinguished. And the smoke is rising up in the air and blowing in the direction of the wind. “Joe, do you have a cell phone?”  He hands me his phone and I call 911. Hello, this is Sandy Hall. I live at 20 Colfax Drive in Benson. My neighbor accidentally started a fire in his backyard. He has sustained some burns and needs to be taken to the hospital. He lives in the house behind my house. What? Yes, he is conscious, but he needs to go to the hospital. Ok, sure about ten minutes.”

I walk back over to Joe and say,” how are you feeling Joe? Are you in much pain? Do you need to sit down? I just called 911 they should be here in a few minutes. Why don’t we go and wait on your front porch? I’ll get you some water.”

“What the hell do you think you are doing calling the police? Who asked you to come over here? Why don’t you mind your own business?”

“What, mind my own business? Your yard was on fire, you were on fire. I was trying to help you.?

“Help, help who said I needed help?”
“Ok Joe, you need to sit down and wait for the ambulance. You are just overexcited and upset.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

At this point, I decided that Joe was not in a rational state of mind. And I was about to argue with him anymore so I walk around to his front yard to direct the ambulance when it arrives. Just then I see a police car and a fire truck and an ambulance pull around the corner of our cul-d-sac and I start to wave at them over.

Two young men disembark from the ambulance and walk toward me. “Hello, my name is Sandy Hall I called you. My neighbor over there started a fire to burn some trash and it got out of control and his grass and all the dried leaves in his back yard started to burn and then he poured gasoline on the fire and then he caught on fire. But I managed to put the fire out on him and sprayed the yard down with the hose. And then I called you guys. He’s right there.”

“Thank you for calling. We’ll take over from here on out. That was brave of you. I’m sure your neighbor appreciates your help. It could have been a lot worse.”

“Well, I don’t know about that, but I hope he will be ok.”

I stand by my neighbor’s front step and watch. It looks as if the firemen and the EMT’s have everything well in hand. So, I walk back to my back porch and sit down. I drink the glass of ice tea down in one gulp and nearly chock on the ice.

I try to pay attention to my book, but somehow, I keep finding my attention drifting away and watching my neighbor. Although I can’t hear what is being said it’s clear my neighbor, Joe isn’t been cooperative. The thought crosses my mind that some people are their own worse enemy. Once they get an idea in their head there is no changing their minds. About ten minutes later, I notice Joe is getting into the ambulance and apparently going to the hospital. I say out loud, “well that’s a relief.” And then I go back to finishing my dessert. I decide to feed my Koi fish and fill up the bird feeders. I come back to the porch and continue reading my book.

It’s a beautiful day and I enjoy my solitude and hope to finish my book tonight after dinner. About 4:30 in the afternoon just before I’m about to go in and start dinner, I notice a car pulling into my neighbor’s driveway. And sure, enough Joe steps out of the back of the car. He slams the door behind him. I wave at him but he doesn’t wave back. I shrug my shoulders and pick up my tray and go into my house to cook dinner.

The next morning, I get up and take a shower and go to work as usual. I have a busy day and time goes by quickly. As I pull into my driveway, I notice my neighbor, Joe out in his backyard. I consider going over there to check up on him. But I not up to another negative confrontation so I decide to forego asking him how he is doing.

The next day after work, Joe is once again out in the yard. So, I decide to gather my courage and go ask him how he’s doing. But I vow to myself that if he so much as raises his voice to me, I’ll never talk to him again. I open my gate and take a deep breath and walk towards the back fence. Joe has his back to me. “Hi Joe, I’m sorry if I’m interrupting you but I just wanted to ask how you are doing?”

Joe turns around and looks at me. “Oh, it’s you.” And then he just stands there and stares at me. So, I try again. “So, how are you doing? Are you in any pain?’

He finally turns towards me and says, “They gave me pain killers. They told me I was lucky not to have been burned more extensively. I know I acted like an ass. I should have thanked you for coming over here to help me.”

“Oh well, I didn’t come over here for an apology or a thank you. I just wanted to see if you are ok, that’s all. So, are you ok?”

“Yes, I will be, and thank you for helping me. No one else ever went out of their way to help me ever. But I guess that’s my fault for not being friendly to anyone.”

“Well Joe, I’m relatively new to this neighborhood, so I don’t know many people. It would be nice to have a friend here. So, in case you don’t know my name, it’s Sandy Hall. And I know your name is Joe, but I don’t know your last name.”

“It’s Joe Farmington, I’ve been living here for fifteen years. My wife died two years ago and since then I’ve been mad at the world and to tell you the truth, lonely. We never had any children. I’m pretty much alone in the world. I would really appreciate having a friend.”

“Well then, how about coming over to my house at lunchtime. I hate eating alone all the time, but as I said I don’t know anyone around here. How do you feel about bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches with ice tea and chocolate ice cream for dessert?”

“I say that sounds great, thanks for asking. What time?”

“Twelve o’clock sharp Joe, on my back porch. I’ll look forward to it.”

And that was the beginning of a beautiful friendship between me and Joe…

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Aisling’s Umbrella

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“Yes, can I help you miss?”

“Help me?”

Watermelon Umbrella

Annalise Art -Pixabay

“Yes, are you looking for something in particular?

“Of course, I am. I’m looking for a bonny umbrella.”

“A Bonny umbrella? I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that brand.”

“Brand? It’s, not a brand. What I was trying to say is that I’m looking for a beautiful umbrella.”

“Oh, yes of course. Can you describe to me what your idea of a bonny umbrella would look like?”
“Yes, I would like it to be bright red and have large multi-colored dots on it.”

“Well, that really is quite specific. Nothing comes to mind at the moment, but let me show you a few that you might like.”

A couple of minutes later the shop owner walks back to the counter with several umbrellas and places them carefully on the counter. “Well, here are all the red umbrellas that I have in stock.”

“Oh no, these won’t do. It really must have large multi-colored dots on it and have a wood handle.” The young woman picks up each umbrella and studies it from top to bottom. Oh dear, oh dear I just don’t think any of these will work. And this is the last store in the city that sells umbrellas. And I absolutely have to have to purchase the umbrella today. She picks up one umbrella after the other, and finally chooses a red umbrella that looks like a watermelon slice.

“Well, actually this one is unusual and humourous. Sometimes I get an idea in my head and I can be quite inflexible. I’ll take this one and I’ll come to love it.”

” Oh, yes of course. Shall I wrap it up for you?”

“No, I’ll just carry it. How much do I owe you?”

“That will be fifty dollars even.”

“Do you take credit cards?”

“Of course.”

“Here you are.” She hands the shop owner her credit card.

“Aisling O’Cabri, that’s an unusual name.”

“Yes, I was named after my great-great-grandmother who came from Down Patrick a small town in Northern Ireland which is about twenty miles south of Belfast. The name Aisling was often the name of a beautiful woman in Irish poetry. And from what I’ve been told about my maternal grandmother she was one of the most beautiful women to come out of Down Patrick.

She met my great-great father on a boat from Ireland that landed on Ellis Island in New York at the turn of the century about 1905. I have a picture of her it is somewhat faded and of course, it is black and white. She had long dark curly hair down to her waist and pale blue eyes.”

“Well Miss, I hope you don’t mind me saying so. But you could be describing yourself.”

“Thank you. When I was a little girl, my great-great-grandmother was quite old. Probably in her late eighties. And I thought she was the most beautiful woman I saw. I loved spending time with her. She told me stories about the “old country”. She still had a slight Irish lilt when she spoke. I would beg her to tell me one story after the other. Just to hear her speak.”

“You were lucky to have such a wonderful relationship with your grandmother.”

“Oh, don’t I know it. She told me about all her experiences. How she and many of her generation from Ireland came to America because they were starving in Ireland during the potato famine. How when she met my great-great-grandfather on the ship she took from Ireland to New York. It was love at first sight. They ended up getting married and moving to Philadelphia. Oh, I’m sorry I don’t know why I’m wasting your time telling you about my family history. You must have work to do.”

“Actually, it’s fascinating. And besides, I own this store. I’m filling in for one of my employees this morning. His wife gave birth to their first child yesterday. And he asked if he could have the morning off. He should be here any minute. I would love to hear more about your family. I don’t really have a family history that I know about since I grew up in foster care. My parents died in a car accident when I was four.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry that’s terrible. And here I am prattling on and on about my family history.”

“What? Oh no, as I said I loved hearing about it. In fact, I hope you won’t think this is too forward of me. Would you like to go out to lunch with me? Oh, wait, for all I know you’re married.”

“Married no. Free as a bird. I would enjoy that. Do you know any nice restaurants in this part of town? Oh, what am I talking about of course you do? You have a business here.”

“Aisling, do you mind me calling you that? What kind of food do you like?”

“Of course, you can call me Aisling. I love Italian food. Especially pizza.”

“Really, well there is a great pizza place within walking distance. I‘ll just put a sign on the door closed until one o’clock. Jeremy will be back at the store by then. So I’ll lock up and we can be on our way. I’ll grab my jacket.”

“I just realized I don’t even know your name. What is your name?”

“Oh, you’re right. I didn’t tell you my name. It’s Alexander, but everyone calls me Alex.”

As they walk down the street Aisling notices a young woman walking a dog. “Oh, look at that little dog isn’t he adorable? I love dogs. I haven’t had one since I was a young girl. We had a dog named Ulysses; he was a mutt. But I loved him all the same. I was crushed when he died and we never got another dog.”

“I have always wanted a dog too, but I live in an apartment. And he would be alone all day.”

Aisling looks over at him and smiles and he smiles back. Up until that moment, she hadn’t thought about how he looked. As he smiles back at her she realizes he is one of the most attractive men she has met in a long, long time.  Suddenly It starts to spit, and then downpours. Aisling quickly opens her new umbrella and says, “quick get under here and we’ll run for it.”

Alexander calls out, “that’s the restaurant right on the corner, Anthony’s Pizza. They enter the restaurant a little wet and out of breath. “Well, that was unexpected. It wasn’t supposed to rain today.”

“Well, I knew it was going to rain that’s why I came into your shop. The last time it rained it was so windy that my umbrella turned inside out.”

“Aisling the day that your umbrella turned inside out was the luckiest day for me. Otherwise, I would never have met you. Since I so rarely work in one of my shops. And today is the second luckiest day when you walked into my shop to buy a new umbrella. So, what would you like to eat?”

“Well, how about a double cheese pizza with the works?”

“What? But that’s my favorite too. How about you continue telling me your family history? I would truly love to hear everything about you?”

“Really? Alright, where did I leave off?”

“Tell me more about your great-grandmother and your relationship with her. And I was wondering if you have ever gone to Ireland to visit and find your roots?”

“No, no I haven’t but I would love to do that. Visit the old sod so to speak. Oh, my grandmother had a quirky sense of humor and she loved to play jokes on people. She also liked to dress up in weird costumes and surprise me. She was so much fun to be around. I’ve never met anyone like her. I was so lucky to have been able to spend as much time with her as I did.”

“Oh, she sounds like a woman I would have loved to have known.”

“Oh, I know you would have loved her. Whenever she was around, she had people laughing. Sometimes she would make me laugh so hard I would have tears running down my cheeks. When I was little, she would pick me up and twirl me around and sing at the top of her voice. She would make fun of herself or make funny faces. Sometimes when she took me out shopping or out to lunch she would start talking with a thick accent to the waiter. And then I would start talking with a different accent. And then we would both break out in peals of laughter. And the waiter would stare at us for a moment or two. And the next thing you know he would be laughing as well. You know how laughing can be contagious?”

“Yes Aisling, I remember that when I was young my friends and I would start laughing and then couldn’t stop and would be laughing and crying at the same time. I wonder why as we grow up; we stop having fun and laughing as we did as children?”

“Well Alex, I can only answer for myself and that is because sometimes I take everything too seriously. And you know I think I started being too serious after my grandmother passed away. I know she wouldn’t have wanted me to stop being happy and laughing. I’m going to do my best from now on to enjoy life and laugh more.”

“Aisling, I’m sure your grandmother would have wanted you to laugh, and have fun and find love.”

“You’re right that’s exactly what she would have wanted. She would want me to be happy, Alex. It turns out that the fact that it rained today and that my old umbrella turned inside out was the best thing that ever happened to me. First, I met you and bought this beautiful umbrella. And I realized that what I was missing most in my life wasn’t an umbrella it was laughter and joy.”

“And Aisling, I found you. And you have brought joy and happiness into my life.”

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CLASS REUNION

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This morning I stepped out my front door into the frosty morning air and quickstepped it to my mailbox in my slippers and pajamas. I received the surprise of my life. An invitation from an old college friend  of mine, Alice Storti to my thirtieth college reunion. Thirty years. Can you imagine? Thirty years. Can you imagine?

Temple University, main campus-Philadelphia, Pa

Temple University, main campus-Philadelphia, Pa

I moved away from Kalamazoo, Michigan the year I graduated from High School. During my senior year in high school, I applied to several schools out of state and was accepted at all of them. I chose Temple University in Philadelphia, Pa.

As far back as I remember I’ve wanted to be a writer. Before I learned how to write I would regale my family with stories. Some were true, most of them were exaggerated versions of the truth. And some were total fiction.

The author I most admired in my adolescence was Jeffrey Robinson. He attended Temple University. While he was still in college Robinson wrote for television and radio. He was a prolific writer his whole career. Sometime around 1980 Robinson moved to the UK and had more than 600 stories and articles published. He wrote 45 books. And that is why I chose Temple University so I could walk in Robinson’s footsteps. And he was a successful writer while he was still attending college.

As I stood there shivering in my driveway, I began to think about my own experiences attending Temple in Philadelphia a city that I came to love. A city that I made my home for the rest of my life. Philadelphia is a city that you either love or hate. I love it. The diversity of the neighborhoods, the food. the art, the music, the sports.

As I walk back to my house, I thought about all the great friends I made while I was in college. Friends I still have to this day. Some people that I lost track of over those long thirty years since Graduation Day. It really would be great to see them once again and find out what they have been up to in the thirty years that flew by so quickly.

I decide to go to the reunion. I drop the response to the invitation in my mailbox as I get into my car to go to work. I’ve been writing at the Philadelphia Inquirer since I graduated from college. I write articles for the Life Section of the paper. I have had the opportunity to meet all kinds of people in the Delaware Valley experiencing every kind of life event you can imagine from birth to death, great moments of joy, and great loss. I can’t imagine doing anything else. I truly love my job and look forward to it every morning when I wake up. I have dedicated my life to studying human nature. People fascinate me, the good, the bad, and the ugly.

I meet my editor, Patrick on the way in the door of the Inquirer. “Hello, Marilyn how are you on this fine morning?”

“I’m fine, Patrick. Guess what? I received an invitation to my college reunion. Can you believe it’s been thirty years?”

“What, that can’t be true, you look like you couldn’t be a day over thirty right now.”

“Oh yeah sure, I’ve always said you must have kissed that Blarney Stone when you were visiting Ireland thirty years ago, Patrick.”

“What, I would never say anything that wasn’t true, Marilyn. Oh, by the way, I sent you an email about a story I want you to cover, let me know what you think. I’ll talk to you later.”

As Patrick walks toward his office, I couldn’t help but think what a lucky woman I was to be working in a job I love and for a man like Patrick O’Donnell that gave me the opportunity as an inexperienced young reporter fresh out of school.

The months went by quickly and before I knew it was the night of the reunion. I had spent more than I could afford on a new dress and shoes. I even had my car washed and waxed. I’m not sure why. I took a last look in the mirror before I left. Well, I didn’t look twenty-one anymore, but honestly, I thought I look pretty good for someone about to turn fifty-one.

I had married straight out of college but the marriage only lasted three years. My then-husband decided marriage wasn’t for him. At least not married to someone that was always out on the road all times of the night and the day. He wanted children and I didn’t. It was an amicable divorce. We were still living in an apartment. I didn’t have time to take care of a house and all that entailed. And he wanted a house, a stay at home wife, and three kids. It was never going to work out. Several years later I heard he got married to a younger woman and now they had three kids who were probably in college by now.

So here I am driving to my thirtieth high school reunion to see people I haven’t seen since I was twenty-one. The reunion is taking place at the Philadelphia Library on the second floor, it is a historic building in Philadelphia and perfect for a college reunion. I have to admit it is one of my favorite places in Philadelphia and I have spent so much of my time doing research there. I am well acquainted with almost everyone that works there including the cleaning staff.

The reunion is being held at the main Philadelphia Library. As I walk into the hall outside the Art Section of the library, I see a group of people that are formally dressed in suits, tuxedoes, and gowns. I have never enjoyed dressing up but since I work for the Inquirer I have had to attend many formal events I lost count of over the years ago. So tonight, I wore my favorite dress. It was somewhat retro, as it had an umpire bodice and a scoop neckline and a fitted waist, and a full skirt. It was silk and midnight blue. I had fresh highlights put in my hair and a haircut and a touch of make-up.

I think I look great. I know you aren’t supposed to say things like that about yourself. But oh well, there’s nothing wrong with having self-confidence.

I walk toward the largest group of people in the room hoping I will recognize someone. After all, it has been thirty years. The last time I saw any of them was at our graduation. And we were all so young, so full of hope, still so innocent about the world. And here I am now having seen all I’ve seen and experienced, no longer innocent. But still, so full of hope. I have seen the very worse in people and the best. And I still look forward to each day of my life with hope and yes, excitement.

As I come closer to the small crowd, I look from one face to another. I don’t recognize anyone at first glance. And then a tall dark-haired man walks toward me and looks me right in the eyes and said,” Marilyn, Marilyn Barrette is that you?’

“Yes, it’s me.” I look at him for a minute and then it comes to me. It’s Jeff Sterling. He was one of my first friends at Temple when I came there as a Freshman those many years ago. He hoped to work in Social Services in Center City Philadelphia. “Jeff? Wow, you look great. How wonderful it is to see you. How did so many years go by so quickly? Why didn’t we keep in touch? What have you been up to?”

“Woah, that’s a lot of questions. I feel like I’m being interviewed.”

“Oh, sorry I’m a newspaper reporter with The Inquirer, old habits die hard.”

“Really, that’s fantastic. That’s all you ever talked about becoming for four years. I’m happy that you are doing what you love. Do you still love it? Oh, sorry now I’m being nosy.”

“You’re not being nosy. Isn’t that what going to a reunion is all about getting reacquainted with old friends?”

“Of course, you’re right. That’s exactly what it’s about. So, did you come with anyone or did you come by yourself?”

“Oh, I forgot how circumspect you always were. What you really wanted to ask me is if I’m married isn’t it?”

“Yeah, you’re right that’s exactly what I wanted to know. You’re the reason I came to the reunion. So, are you married?”

“No, not anymore. I had a short-lived marriage. It ended years ago. We just weren’t a good match.”

“Did you have kids Marilyn?”

“No Jeff that’s one of the reasons we got divorced. I didn’t want children and he did. How about you married or divorced?”

“Never married, no kids. I just never found the right woman.”

“I’m not trying to put words into your mouth Jeff but are you saying you came here to see me for that reason?”
“Yes, yes I guess I am, Marilyn.”

“Well, Jeff why don’t we take a seat, get something to eat, and see if we still have any things still in common. It’s been a long time.”

“That would be great. And by the way, did I mention that I think you are even more beautiful than the last time I saw you, Marilyn.”

“So, what you’re saying is that I have improved with age like a fine wine, Jeff?”

“Marilyn, you always did have a way with words. I missed that about you. Let me tell you all the things I missed about you. Shall I?”

“Yes, Jeff please do. And may I say that I’m so, so happy that I came. So, start by telling me what you did the day after graduation and go from there.”

“Well, this is going to be a long conversation isn’t it Marilyn?”

“Yes, but we have the rest of our lives to hear it don’t we?”

“So, Jeff what did you do that Summer after graduation?”

“One of my buddies and I took a road trip and ended up in Tijuana and ended up in jail.”

“You’re kidding. Go on…….”

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Where There is Hope. There is Possibility

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I’m awakened by the noise of my stomach growling and rumbling. I glance over at the clock on the nightstand, and I’m shocked when I realize it’s one-thirty in the afternoon. How has so much time passed by?

I have a god-awful taste in my mouth as if something died in there, and my head is pounding. I must have a migraine coming on. I drag myself out of bed. I still feel kind of groggy. I turn the cold water on in the shower and step in under the cold and unforgiving water. It’s pounding down on my head and weary body. As I step out of the shower, I almost slip on the tile floor. I manage to grab ahold of the edge of the sink at the last possible moment. I dry myself off and dress in blue jeans and a tee-shirt. I don’t have any clean underwear, so I have to put on yesterdays. They’re lying in a heap of dirty clothes on the bathroom floor. I vow to do the laundry today.

Road Trip

I’m almost afraid to look in the mirror. There are dark circles and bags under my eyes. I drag the comb through my hair. I need a haircut so badly, and yet I can’t manage to gather the energy to call up my hairdresser and make an appointment.  Once again, I stare into the mirror at my reflection and think, who is that? That can’t be me. When did I get this old?

I shuffle out toward the kitchen and can’t help but notice the disarray I come across with every step. When did I stop caring about, well, everything? I need something or someone to give me a reason to keep going. Ever since my husband died. Well, he didn’t die. He’s just dead to me since, after thirty years of marriage, he left me for another woman. Not even a younger woman, someone my own age. I sigh and head toward the kitchen. I know I‘ll feel better if I get a good breakfast under my belt. That is, if I had a belt that I could still buckle. I really need an exercise routine. I need something that will give me the incentive to get up, get out, and start moving. I decide to make hot oatmeal with raisins. I have always loved hot oatmeal.

That was great, I do feel so much better, and the Earl Grey tea hit the spot as well. I start washing the dishes and wiping down the counters, and even cleaning the sink. The phone rings. It’s probably just someone wanting me to buy something or some scammer trying to sell me additional time on a warranty for a car I no longer own.

“Hello, yes, this is Janice Rathgeb. Who’s this?”

“Mary O’Donnell, you say. Yes, that sounds familiar. Oh yes, you’re my Aunt Patsy’s lawyer. What can I do for you? What, she passed away? I’m sorry to hear that, I haven’t spoken to her in a long time. She was always so kind to me. I should have kept in touch. But you know how things are. You get busy. But that’s no excuse.”

“The reason I’m calling is that your Aunt Mary has left you her most precious possession, but you will have to come here by end of the day to take ownership. Please send me your email address, and I will give you the location where you can take delivery.”

“You want me to come to pick “it” up? Can’t you just mail it to me?”

“No, the condition of taking ownership in your Aunt’s will states clearly that you must come to the location and take ownership.”

I decided to check out my email and the news on the internet. The next thing I know, it’s four hours later. I received the address to pick up my “inheritance.” I can not imagine what my Aunt would give me. She was always kind to me when I was growing up. She was somewhat of an odd duck. She was creative and used to write stories and even paint. She really didn’t fit in with the rest of the family at all.

But she always made time for me. She gave me thoughtful gifts on birthdays and Christmas. One time she took me out and paid for me to go for a ride in a helicopter. I can remember how I was so excited by that ride and didn’t stop talking about it for months. I don’t understand why I stopped seeing and talking to her. And now it’s too late.

I pull myself up out of my chair and head into the kitchen to make some lunch. I decided that tomorrow first thing I would go to the location my Aunt’s lawyer sent me and pick up my mysterious inheritance. I start feeling optimistic about it. Finally, something good is going to happen. After dinner, I plan my trip and pack an overnight bag just in case I have to stay over.

I imagine all the things my aunt might leave me. She was quite a collector of art, antique furniture, and musical instruments. Oh, I almost forgot about the musical instruments. When I was about fifteen, she bought me a mountain dulcimer. It was handmade, and the sounds it created were incredible. I loved that dulcimer. It turned out that I had a natural talent. I played it for many years when I met my husband to be and then we got engaged. He didn’t care for the dulcimer.

He discouraged me from playing, and when we were able to buy our first house, he said I was going to be too busy setting up the household and eventually having children. Turns out he wasn’t able to have kids, so I spent the next thirty years selling insurance. I tried to convince him that we could adopt children, but he said he didn’t want to raise anyone else’s kids.

I went to bed early that night since tomorrow would be a long day of driving. I haven’t been back home for years. After my parent’s passed away, there didn’t seem to be any reason to go back to North Carolina. My whole family had spread out across the country, and no one was left in Pittsboro. It’s a small southern town, and there didn’t seem to be much of a future for me there. So, I moved to the Philadelphia, Pa area. And that’s where I met my future husband.

The next morning, I woke up before the alarm went off. I feel optimistic, as if something wonderful is going to happen. I don’t remember the last time I felt happy. I feel energized and excited. I eat a quick breakfast and drink a cup of coffee. I grab my purse and suitcase and head out to the garage.

I look at my car and wish I had taken the time yesterday to take it to the car wash. I decide to take the time to clear out all the fast-food wrappers and old take-out coffee cups. When did I become such a slob? I used to be so neat and clean. I guess it happened about the time I realized my husband didn’t love me anymore, and it was clear he had found someone else. I just stopped caring about everything, even myself. But today is a new day, and I just feel in my bones that it’s going to be the beginning of something life-changing.

It will take about seven and a half hours to drive from Philadelphia to North Carolina. If I only take a couple of stops along the way, I should arrive at about six ‘clock tonight. I pack a lunch and have a big thermos of coffee. I back out of the garage and get out and lock the garage and check the front and back doors. Everything is locked tight. And I’m off.

My first and only stop is going to be the exact midway point between Philadelphia and Pittsboro in Woodford, Virginia. It is 423 miles at the halfway point. The first half of the trip goes by quickly without any problems. I decide to stop at one of the rest stops to have lunch. I haven’t done that in years. For some reason, I always loved shopping and eating at Rest Stops. The food is always awful and greasy. And to be completely honest, I just love that greasy food.

But somehow, there’s a kind of excitement about being midway between two places and not having any responsibilities or worries other than getting from point A to point B. And then there is the added enjoyment of watching your fellow travelers and listening to their conversations. I have always loved listening to the conversations of strangers. The ones you will never see again. I guess I’m kind of a voyeur.

I pull into a parking spot and grab my purse and lock the car. And head into the rest stop. I use the lady’s room and then find an empty seat and look at the menu. I decide to go for a cheeseburger with the works, including onion, since I’m driving by myself. I also order spicy fries and a piece of apple pie with hot coffee.

As I wait for my order, I look around, and the place is almost completely full.  I see a couple of little kids running all over the place and hear their parents yelling, “Joey and Samantha come back to your seats right now. Your lunch is here.” The kids run around once more until the father yells at the top of his lungs, “get your asses over here and sit down.”

Every head in the restaurant pops up, and everyone quiets down. I guess at some point in their lives, they all had their fathers yell at them with that voice and knew they had better sit down and shut up, or you were in big trouble. I laugh out loud. I stop at the lady’s room once again just in case. And head back to my car for the second half of the trip.

I arrived at the hotel and made a reservation outside of Pittsboro. I gave my aunt’s lawyer a call and let him know I arrived. He gave me an address to meet him tomorrow morning at ten in the morning. I am exhausted by the long drive but, at the same time, excited by all the possibilities of what I may have inherited. My aunt always had a big heart, but she had a great sense of humor, so who knows what would happen tomorrow?

I decide to freshen up in my hotel room and then eat at the restaurant down the street. They promised to have country cooking. Oh, how I always loved country cooking.

The dinner was great and about as Southern as you can get. I left a big tip and thanked the waitress. I promised to stop by again if I ever came this way.

The next morning, I woke up a seven o’clock sharp and got a shower, and headed for the hotel dining room where breakfast. I settled for yogurt and coffee and a buttered muffin. I studied the map last night, and it looks like I have about a forty-five-minute drive to the address I was given. I was told to ask for Liz Fortunato.

I forgot how beautiful North Carolina was in the Spring when all the wildflowers started appearing all along the country roads, and the farms were coming alive. Oh, and all the cows and sheep and horses on the family farms along the way. Really beautiful. I didn’t realize how much I missed it. I was about to make my last turn for my destination when I started thinking, what in the world could my aunt have left for me way out here in the country? And then I saw a large sign at the gate of a beautiful farm. It said Fortunato’s Kennels and Boarding. What in the world did my aunt leave me a horse? What would I do with a horse?

I pulled up to the front gate, and there was a sign that said, Open the Gate, and drive through and close the gate behind you. So, I did just that. I drove down a long driveway past some beautiful pastures with horses and burros and goats and sheep. I pulled over at the end of the driveway when I saw a middle-aged woman walking toward me. “Hello, are you Janice Rathgeb?”

“Yes, are you Liz Fortunato?”

“Yes, I am. I’m so happy that you were able to come out here as quickly as you have. We have been looking forward to meeting you since Harry came to live with us. He is such a wonderful fellow. I know you will fall in love with him the moment you meet him.”

“Harry, who are you talking about?”

“Well, as I understand it, Harry is the inheritance that your favorite aunt left you when she passed away.”

“But what is Harry?”

“Why Harry is a dog, of course. He is the most beautiful Irish Setter I’ve ever had the pleasure to board here at Fortunato’s. I know you will love him as much as we have all come to love him. Hold on while I contact his kennel and have one of the keepers come out with Harry.”

Janice stood there flabbergasted. She was so shocked by the turn of events she didn’t even know how to respond. She hadn’t owned a dog since she was a young girl. When he passed away, she was brokenhearted. She loved that dog more than anything or anyone. She was about ten years old when she passed away. And Janice said she never wanted to have another dog again. Because the loss she felt when he died was more than she could ever take again in her life.

At that moment, a young girl in her twenties came walking up the path toward them, and next to her walked the most beautiful dog that she had ever seen. She realized Harry was the spitting image of her dog Naomi.

“Thank you, Ellen, for bringing Harry. This is Ms. Rathgeb, and she is going to be Harry’s new owner.”

“Oh, Ms. Rathgeb, I’m going to miss Harry so much. He is the most loving dog you can imagine. He has such a sweet temperament.” And with some reluctance, she placed Harry’s leash in Janice’s hand. “Goodbye, Harry. I will miss you so much.” And she turned and walked away.

Janice looked over at Liz Fortunato and said, “Harry is my inheritance?”

“Well, yes, I suppose he is. When your aunt became ill, she contacted me and asked if I could care for him until you arrived. That was about a month ago. I heard she passed about two weeks ago. I was sad to hear it. She was the kindest soul I had ever met. And Harry here, well, he is an angel. There are no other words to describe him. He never met anyone that he didn’t like, and everyone who has met him loved him on sight. I’m not exaggerating.”

Janice looked at Harry, and he looked right into her eyes, and her heart began to melt. He stepped forward a few steps and place his beautiful face in the palm of her hand, and she leaned over and began petting his beautiful long, silky coat. “Wow, he reminds me so much of a dog I had when I was a child. I loved that dog.”

“I have no doubt but that you will fall in love with Harry in no time at all. He is intelligent, has a sweet and loving nature, and rarely barks. As I said, everyone had come to love him and will miss him. But we know he will be happy with you. I’m sure your Aunt knew what would make you happy. Unconditional love and loyalty.”

Janice got down on her knees and petted Harry from the tip of his nose to the end of his tail. “Oh, he is such a beautiful dog.” Janice felt her heart melt a little, and then Harry put his head on her knee and looked up into her eyes. And that’s when Janice knew that nothing her aunt could have left her would be better than this beautiful dog. Who she had no doubt she would love for the rest of his life.  And she had found a soul that would give her life meaning and unconditional love.

Thank you, Ms. Fortunato. I have to agree I can’t imagine any greater gift that my aunt could bestow upon me than this beautiful dog.”

Janice took Harry’s lead and said, “let’s go home, Harry.” And he walked off with her towards her car and never looked back. Janice opened the back door of the car and jumped in as if he had done it a thousand times before. Janice got in the front seat, locked the doors, and started driving toward the gate. “Well, Harry, I wonder what life has in store for us? I don’t know for sure, but I know it will be a wonderful adventure.”

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Trick or Treat

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Halloween

Gerhard fromPixabay

I had been looking forward to Halloween for months. It’s my favorite holiday next to Christmas. I have been bugging my mother for months to make me a costume but it looks like I‘ll be wearing the same costume again. My sister and I were in a wedding a few years ago we were ring bearers. And since we’re twins, we had to wear the same kind of dress. Even though we don’t look alike at all. I have long, dark blond hair and my sister has dark brown curly hair and is taller than I am.

Anyway, this is the last year, I’ll be wearing the dress since when I tried it on the other day my mother had trouble zipping it up. It was so tight and short. It is above my knees. My mom bought a crown at the Ben Franklin 5 &10 store. She said,

” Susan this year you can be a princess.”

“Ok, Mom,” I said, but I must have made a face at her. She said,” Susan don’t give me that face.”

I guess I make a lot of faces since someone says that to me just about every day of my life. Sometimes people get on my last nerve. Even my mother who is the nicest person I know.

Anyway, I absolutely love Halloween even more than Christmas.” Why you ask because candy that’s why. I love candy more than anything in the world except animals, especially cats. My favorite place in the world is Schuck’s. It is a store around the corner from me. It’s on Main Street next to Harry Fuelle’s grocery store. Anyway, as I was saying Schuck’s is this store that is a luncheonette, they make the best hoagies in the world. And they have a soda fountain and a room where all the teenagers go to listen to the Jude Box and dance. When I get old enough, I’m going to go in there. That is if I ever learn to dance. My sister says I won’t because I have two left feet and I’m a klutz. I have to admit I’m pretty clumsy. “

When Halloween finally arrived, I was so excited I couldn’t eat dinner. My mother said, “Susan, eat something please. You eat like a bird.” One of my sisters, who shall remain nameless said, “yeah, a vulture.”

Then, I said, “shut up.” And my mother got mad since we are not allowed to say “shut up” for some reason. I said, “sorry mom.” But then I stuck my tongue out at the unnamed sister. She said, “Mom, Susie, stuck her tongue out at me.” Which made me stick my tongue out again. Because nobody likes a rat.” My sister said, “She did it again.” My mother said,” that’s enough or neither of you will be going out for Halloween.” And that was the end of our argument.

On Halloween night I squeezed into the now very tight and uncomfortable blue taffeta dress. It is the itchiest material you can imagine. And because it was so tight on me, I could hardly lift my arms. And if I did lift my arms my underwear would show because it is so short. I couldn’t zip it so I had to ask my mother to zip it. She said,” Susie, take a deep breath, I can’t zip it up.” I held my breath and she said, you are going to have to wear a sweater or jack because I can only get it halfway up.”

And that’s when I made a face. “What did I tell you about making faces, Susie?’ I made another face. “I can hardly breathe Mom.” She said, “You’ll be fine.”

That’s what she always said, “You’ll be fine.” If I was standing there breathing my last breath she would say,” you’ll be fine.” If I fell off my bike and broke my leg, she would say, “you’ll be fine.”  One time I had some kind of horrible flu and was throwing up, had a fever and a headache. She rubbed some Vick’s on my chest and said, “stop moaning you’ll be fine.”

My mother never complains about anything. All my friends, mothers always told me, “your mother is a saint. She is going to go straight to heaven.” And then I would cry because I couldn’t bear the idea of my mother dying. Then they would tell me I was such a crybaby. Everyone is always telling me I’m a crybaby. I guess I am because my feelings get hurt easily. Like when my father says, “I don’t know what your biggest problem is that your stupid or your lazy.” I always cried when he said that. And then one of my older sisters would say, “she’s such a crybaby.”

So, after I finally managed to squeeze into the blue dress I ran down to my best friend, Joanie’s house carrying my empty pillowcase. Believe it or not, I would be able to fill the pillowcase not once but twice before the end of the night. I ran up her steps and banged on her front door. Her father answered the door. “Oh, I should have known it would be you. You practically live here.”

“Hi, Mr. Gioiella, is Joanie here?”

“Of course, she’s here, hold onto your britches.” And then he slams the door in my face. Joanie and I always argue about whose father is the biggest grouch. They are so much alike. Joanie is always late, she is slow. She finally shows up at the door and she has an amazing costume on. She is Super Girl and she has make-up on. “Are you wearing make-up?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Nothing you look great.”

What are you supposed to be? Isn’t that the same dress you wore last year?”

“Yeah, I’m supposed to be a princess.”

She takes one look at me and says,” better luck next year. Let’s go.”

And off we go. We walk down to the corner and hit all the stores on Main Street. My favorite is the Maple Shade Bakery. They make the best bread and donuts and pastries.

Then we go to the Ben Franklin Store and I pick a cap gun out of the basket. Joan picks a barrette. We see two of our friends there and go over and say hello. And head out to the houses along Main Street down to Fork Landing Road. It is starting to get dark out and all the kids are walking up and down the streets with flashlights. Joan and I are yelling hello to everyone we see at the top of our lungs. We have already eaten so much candy we both feel sick. I actually think I might puke. But that doesn’t stop me from eating more candy. We walk all over town including our own street we decide to stop and empty our pillowcases because they are getting too heavy. Joanie’s mother tries to tell her she has enough and it is getting late. But Joanie starts crying and her mother says, “alright but you better come home by 9:30. And don’t eat anymore.”

We both promised we won’t eat anymore, and at that moment I really don’t think I can eat anymore. There are still a lot of kids running up and down the streets. Most of the little kids have gone home with their parents. Joan and I decide to go across Main Street behind the public elementary school. People are starting to turn their porch lights out. So, we only go to the houses with the light still on since most people have run out of candy by now.

At the last house, we went to I was given a coconut almond bar which is my all-time favorite. “Look what I got, Joan. I think I have enough. Are you ready to go home?”

“Yeah, I’m ready. Tomorrow we can start thinking of what your costume will be for next year since I don’t think you will fit into that dress again.” And then she laughs. Probably not after I eat all the candy I got.”

And we laughed all the way home. You know the kind of laugh kids do when they ate too much junk and are exhausted. The kind where it’s hard to stop laughing long after you remember why you are laughing.

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DORA’S DAY GOES FROM BAD TO WORSE

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Dora wakes up slowly. She lifts her head, and it feels like it’s stuffed with cotton balls. She looks from left to right.  All she sees is what looks like the morning sky, and it is somewhat overcast. She attempts to rise. And she realizes two things at once.  First, she isn’t in her bedroom and, hence, not in her bed. And secondly, she isn’t alone. “What the hell is going on? Whose idea of a joke is this, goddammit.”

Nest

by Rauschenberg-Pixabay

Dora isn’t a morning person. It’s the main reason she never married. She can’t bear the idea of waking up next to someone every morning and having to make small talk. She isn’t cheerful, or it’s a new beginning kind of girl. She’s more of a get the hell out of my face kind of girl.

And here she is, wherever the hell that is? Outside looking at the great beyond. She finally gets her sea legs and stands up gingerly. It almost feels like she is on a ship out at sea. And a storm is brewing. There is a slight swaying beneath her feet. She looks down. Unbelievably, she sees nothing, just more sky. “What the fuck is going on?” Dora curses like a sailor on leave when she’s frightened or angry or happy, or drunk, or just because she damn well feels like it, damn it. She was born and raised in South Philly, and she doesn’t give a good goddamn what anyone thinks about her.

But right now, she fears the worst: that she has finally gone off her rocker, lost her marbles, or lived in a crazy town. Take your pick.

She twists her head and then looks down again. Her head spins. Momentarily, she feels as if she might faint or stroke out. She hasn’t decided which she prefers. At her feet are two objects that, for all the world, look like giant eggs. They look like they weigh a good twenty pounds each.  They are pale green with blue speckles. “Sweet muscular Jesus, I must have taken some bad assed drugs last night. This is the worst hallucination I have ever had. “Wake up, wake up, you dumb shit.”

Dora squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head vigorously, painfully. Trying to wake up from this nightmare or bad trip or whatever the fuck it is. She has had enough. And then suddenly, she hears what can only be described as what sounds like the scream of someone being torn limb from limb. She fears that she is the one screaming.

She pries and opens her eyes with her fingertips. Because she can’t manage to make them open any other way, momentarily, she is relieved because she doesn’t see any blood spurting out of her shoulder where her arm used to reside. She touches the top of her head, and it appears to be intact. She looks down and sees that both feet are attached to both legs. “What the flying fuck is going on here?”

And that is when she sees what is poking out of the egg-shaped object. The things that nightmares are made of. Without warning, a sound so loud, so horrific that she could not even believe it existed.  Not in the world she previously lived in or any other world man or woman has imagined. She covers her ears. She starts saying the Hail Mary, words she hasn’t uttered since she attended Catholic Grade School. God, anyone, somebody, please help me. Wake me up, help me.

She looks down; surely, her eyes must be deceiving her. But at her feet and rising out of the “egg” is what looks like a nightmarish bird. A bird from the Third Circle of Hell, a bird without feathers. A bird exposed to radiation. But, then “the bird” opens its monstrous beak, it displays a mouth full of teeth. Teeth that perhaps once belonged to a Saber Tooth Tiger. And then, just as she feels, she might lose her mind.  The other egg starts cracking, and a beak starts to emerge. The screaming begins anew. It is so loud that she thinks her head might explode. That is the moment she realizes that the ungodly bellowing is not coming from the horrific babies. But something is flying above her and baring down on what she now realizes is some kind of nest from hell.

The babies are screaming in unison. Surely, Dora’s eardrums will burst soon, and she will no longer have to endure the sound for another moment. The thing that was flying above her is now circling for a landing on the freaking nest. At that moment, a thought pops into her mind. She tries to push it away. But she can’t, it remains. The thought is I’m the worm that these ungodly creatures will be given for their first meal.

The closer the gargantuan bird came, the more eminent the end of Dora’s life became. Her life flashes before her eyes. Just like you always hear happens to people when their lives are about to end, as they jump off the roof, or the bridge, or drown in a polluted lake. She sees her long-dead mother’s face looking down at her baby self. She sees her first day in school with Sister John Michael telling her to sit down and shut up. She sees herself playing with her friends in the backyard. The vision begins to fast forward, and her final thought is, “What the fuck is happening?” Gimme another chance, please. I can do better. And then the lights go out.

The light is bright, unbearably bright. There is a low humming noise. A sense of floating through the air. Dora feels a sense of release as if she was bound and now, she is free. She hopes she is in heaven or some version of heaven and not hell. Even though in her previous life she long ago gave up the notion of the hereafter. She hears a distant voice that she thinks must be God or Satan. “Open your eyes.”

Cora is afraid to open her eyes to eternity. “You can do it, Cora; open your eyes.” Cora opens her eyes. The bright light is still above her. She hears a high-pitched crying. She thinks, on no, I’m still in the nightmare. She forces her eyes open. “Try to sit up a little, Cora, and you can hold your baby. You had a rough time of it. But you are both fine, Congratulations.

Cora looks around, is speechless for a moment, and then shrilly says,” What the hell is this?”

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SHOPPING DAY

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Produce Section

Every  Monday, I go food shopping at the Food Lion. I do not enjoy food shopping at all. I’m not a big eater, and I’m on a sugar-free diet.

I made the decision recently to make  shopping more interesting. Last week I came up with the idea of picking out one of my fellow food shoppers and watching them as I shop. I will observe what kind of foods they purchase, what kind of car they drive, and what, if any, interaction they have with other people who are also shopping or working in the store.

I’ve always been a people watcher. I enjoy observing people over time and trying to figure out what makes them tick. Let’s say I’m a student of human nature and leave it at that. I don’t want to hear any of you bringing up the word stalker. That’s just a bunch of hooey. Besides, I just got a little carried away that last time. I was let go with a warning.

I pull into the driveway leading to the parking lot of the Food Lion. A car catches my eye. It’s a hot pink 1965 Caddy. Pristine condition. I know whoever is driving this car is the one for me. Unless there are children in the car. I avoid them like the plague. Somehow kids have a sixth sense about me and start crying and whining as soon as they see me. Dogs too, they start off whining and then bark non-stop.

I drive to the next parking aisle and pull in opposite the hot, pink Caddy and wait to see who emerges. I’m ninety-nine point nine percent certain a woman will step out of the car. Not too many men have the cajones to drive a pink Caddy.

And sure, enough a woman who looks to be about mid-thirties steps out of the car. And ever so gently closes the driver’s side door and locks it. Then she gives the car a pat on the hood and leans over. It looks as if she is whispering something to her car. She starts walking toward the entrance, and the automatic door opens for her. She takes one last look back at her car and smiles. Her smile grabs me by my heart and gives it a squeeze. She’s the one.

I walk slowly towards the entrance. I don’t want to give myself away. I have to remain anonymous. But don’t worry I’m an expert at fading into the background. She’ll never know I’m there. I see her grab a cart, and she wipes it down with from top to bottom. She takes out a second wipe and cleans off the handle slowly from one side to the other.

And she heads towards the Produce Department. I pick up one of the small grocery baskets and walk over to the wine and beer aisle. I place a bottle of wine in my basket. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t buy wine in a grocery store. But I don’t want to call attention to myself by following her into the Produce Department. And I want to keep her in my field of vision.

I can see her clearly now. She has her hair dyed hot pink, the same color as her Caddy. Her lips are red, deep red, like blood. She is wearing skin-tight jeans and a sleeveless tank top. She is extremely fit looking. She has on a pair of hand-tooled boots. My heart is beating hard. I have to stop for a moment to catch my breath.

She heads over to the meat department and picks up two large steaks. She steps up to the counter where you order lunchmeat to place an order. The butcher gives her a broad smile and whispers something in her ear. I feel my face turning red and a lump in my throat. Suddenly, I feel so angry. I almost shout, “Get away from her.” But, at the last moment, I clap my hand over my mouth. I can’t believe I almost lost it. I decide to take a few moments to calm myself down. This has only happened once before and it did not end well. I know I need to calm down or I will have to leave before I give myself away altogether.

I walk over to the water cooler and cup my hands and then put the cold water on my face. I slow down my breathing until I feel myself gaining control of my emotions. Slowly, I walk back towards the aisle where I last saw her. I look up and down, nothing. God, what if she left while I was freaking out. I’ll never have another chance with someone like her. I’m so angry at myself. Suddenly, I realize someone is staring at me. It’s the store manager, Joseph Taylor. He lives in my neighborhood.

“Mr. Jenkins. Are you all alright? I thought for a moment that you were going to get sick, or pass out or something?”

“What, no, no I’m fine. I’m just getting over the flu. And I felt a bit sick to my stomach that’s all. It’s probably because I haven’t eaten today. Thanks for asking.”

I head down towards the refrigerated aisle. I think she’s having company for dinner and she has everything except dessert. Finally, I see her standing in front of the ice cream cases. She looks at it for a moment and then pulls open the door. I see she’ picks chocolate-chip mint. Oh my god, that’s my all-time favorite. It’s clear that this was meant to be. We were meant to be.

I follow about four feet behind her. I drop a couple of items in my basket. She walks toward the first cash register and grabs a bunch of flowers. She has thought of everything. We are going to have such a great time tonight. I can hardly wait.

She walks over to the ten items or less lane. I can’t hear her conversation but she seems to be overly friendly to the cashier. A good-looking young man about twenty years old. His face is flushing as he laughs at some joke, she tells him.

I feel like my head is going to explode, how dare she flirt with that young man. She belongs to me. I’m going to have to teach her how to behave. She is acting like a slut and I can’t tolerate any woman of mine flirting with another man. It is just not acceptable. My head begins to pound.

The cashier is putting her purchases in bags. And handing the bags over to her. I can’t help but notice that every time he hands her a bag, he” accidentally” touches her hands. And then she smiles and him and laughs.

And that is when I see red. I’m not imagining it. I actually see red. I scream out at the top of my lungs, “what the hell are you doing” Keep your hands to yourself.”

I throw down my shopping basket and launch myself at the young man over the counter. I’m, “get away from her, she belongs to me.”

And the next thing I remember is I’m lying on the filthy floor and my hands are cuffed and I’m being dragged to my feet by two burly policemen. They are reading me the Miranda rights, “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?”

“What the hell is going on? Why am I in cuffs? I wasn’t doing anything but protecting my woman. That filthy young man was putting his hands all over her. He was molesting her. She belongs to me.”

“What?  I don’t know that man. I’ve never seen him before. He is some kind of mental case. No one was molesting me. I was just paying for my purchases. And this nutjob flies over the counter and starts choking this young man.”

“Yes, mam.  We understand that but you and the young man are going to have to go to the police station and make a statement. We know this man here. He has a history of stalking. He just recently got out of prison for abducting a young woman and keeping her against her will for three months.”

“What? Oh my god. Why me, I never even saw him before. Why me?”

‘Well, you do fit the profile of the type of women he is attracted to, obviously, he is mentally ill. You will have to testify against him. He is going to go away for a long time. Since he has broken his probation by this assault and stalking you.”

“Stalking me, he was stalking me?”

“Yes, it certainly appears that way.”

That is when I am pulled up to my feet by my handcuffed hands and dragged out the Food Lion door. I really lost it when  I realize I’m about to be thrown into the squad car. I start screaming at the top of my lungs,” What the hell are you doing? I was just trying to protect my woman, that man was accosting her. You have no reason to arrest me. I was trying to protect her.”

“Mr. Jenkins, I suggest you keep quiet and not further incriminate yourself. Wait until we get to the police station and talk to your lawyer. Now duck your head and get in the back seat. Before I charge you with resisting arrest. Do you understand?”

I  plop down in the seat. I look longingly at the Pink Caddy. I want so much to be sitting in that car with my woman. What kind of cockeyed justice do we have in this country anyway? When an innocent man can’t even protect the woman he loves?

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