Category Archives: Fiction

WELCOME TO THE NEIGHBORHOOD

We have been searching for our perfect dream house for almost a year. It’s a tight real estate market. The interest rate is low at 2.6, and every house that comes up for sale is snapped up in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. That’s a weird expression, isn’t it? I guess it means that it happens quickly, but still a weird comparison.

Free Spirits Marie & Stan

We find a house on a real estate website, and by the time we contact the realtor, it has already been sold. Or the realtor contacts us, and we go to see a house, and it is a total do-over or, in some cases, knock it down and start over from scratch.

I was on my way to work when I had to take a detour from my regular route because of a car accident. It was really off the beaten path. As I drive down the road, I notice that there’s a For Sale sign on the house to my right. It was a three-story Georgian Colonial House. Perfect, I think to myself. I pull over to the side of the road and call my realtor. Strike while the iron is hot and all that. Her answer machine picks up, so I leave her a message. “Hello Stella, this is Karen Wilcox. I just found a house that’s for sale on my way to work. I’m going to text you the address. Could you please, please check it out. If it’s anywhere near our price point, would you set up an appointment for James and me to see it asap? Thanks, so much. Karen.

I text her the address and the name of the realtor and realty company that listed it. I’m really stoked. I pray that no one will buy it from under us. I’m afraid to get my hopes up again only to have them dashed. And then I recall my mother’s old saying, To live without hope is to cease to live. So, I’m going to keep my fingers crossed until I hear from Stella.

I have a busy day at work and don’t even have time to check my personal texts or emails. And I didn’t even think about the house I saw for sale until I was on my way home. And I realize that I didn’t have to take the detour that I took that morning. When I saw that house, I want it so badly.

As I pull into our apartment complex’s parking lot, I‘m again reminded of how much I want to have my own house, driveway, and yard with a garden. We’ve been living in this apartment for almost ten years. I cannot even think about living here another five years. I pull into my parking space and turn off the car and grab my purse and briefcase.

Today is one of the days that I have to cook. I am trying to think of what I can cook for dinner. I climb up the three flights to our apartment and unlock the door. I can hear Bowtie, our Tuxedo cat purring on the other side of the door. I open the door, and he rubs against my legs.

“Hi Bowtie, hi Bowtie. Come on, let’s go in, and I’ll get you something to eat.” I pull off my jacket and hang it in the coat closet. I drop my briefcase on the desk and sigh, knowing I have at least two hours of work to do tonight after I cook dinner. I regret I didn’t put something in the crockpot to cook before I left this morning.

I have about forty-five minutes before James gets home. And then another half hour because he likes to decompress for about a half-hour before dinner. So, I have time to put some brown rice in the rice cooker with some veggies. And I can defrost some fish fillets and bread and cook them in the toaster oven. I start the rice cooker and go in and take a quick shower.

What a long day it has been. It feels like days ago since I left for work. And that reminds me of the house I saw for sale this morning. After I jump out of the shower, I check my text messages and, sure enough, I heard from Stella. She set up an appointment for first thing Saturday morning for us to view the Georgian House. God, I hope it doesn’t get sold before Saturday. That’s how cutthroat this market is.

James arrives home; he looks exhausted. His job is an hour away, and he has to drive through a great deal of traffic on an expressway to get to and from work. I think that is what bothers him the most. I have to admit that the driving won’t get any better if we live in the suburbs. But at least he’ll be coming home to our own home and not a one-bedroom apartment with a tiny kitchen and one bathroom.

If we live in a neighborhood, we could go out for a walk when the weather is nice and see people and families, not just people jumping in and out of their vehicles and dashing up to their apartments in a rush.

I call James into the dining room. The dining room is a table and two chairs next to the stairway. The door to our apartment is at the bottom of the steps. You wouldn’t believe how much we pay to rent this place and it isn’t even maintained. It hasn’t been painted or the carpets cleaned, let alone replace. I’m so over living here. The worst part is there isn’t even any green space, just a parking lot, nothing more.

After James takes a seat and I bring the dinner to the table, James says, “dinner looks, great honey. Thanks so much. Anything new at work today?”

“No same old, same old. I had to bring about two hours of work home with me. My deadline is tomorrow. Oh, but there is some good news. This will cheer you up. Today on the way to work, I had to take a detour off my regular route because they worked on the road. And guess what?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you just tell me? I don’t think I have the energy for any guessing games.”

“Oh wow, you are exhausted. I saw this beautiful house for sale, a Georgian Colonial house. And I contacted our realtor, and it’s still for sale. And we have an appointment to meet her there on Saturday at ten 0’clock. Can you believe it?”

“Really, you’re not just yanking my chain, are you?”
“No, of course not. It is a two-story brick house. Beautiful windows, great entranceway. It has a small garden in the front with a brick wall on the property line. I couldn’t find it on the internet, so I don’t know what the inside of the house looks like. But by the size of the house at least three bedrooms, two baths. Can you believe it?”

“No, it’s hard to believe; I hate to get my hopes up and then be disappointed again. But I will try to remain optimistic.”

“Me too. I can’t wait to see it. I know I will love it. I just have this feeling that this is going to be our house.”

“Almost too good to be true, but I will keep my fingers, and my toes crossed if that will help. After all these months, it didn’t seem like it would happen.

“Oh, I almost forgot there are several chimneys, so I’m certain it has at least two, maybe more fireplaces. Can you imagine us sitting in the living room on a cold, winter’s night roasting marshmallows or making popcorn over the fireplace?”

“It sounds like heaven. What was the neighborhood like?”

“You know James; I didn’t even look at the neighborhood. I was so enthralled by the house. And that it’s perfect and in our price range. Can you believe it?”

“It’s hard to believe Karen; I can’t wait to see it either. Let’s think positive thoughts.”

It was an unbelievably busy and stressful week at work. I’m so looking forward to seeing the house on Saturday. I’ve had my fingers crossed for so long I can hardly move them. I haven’t heard from our realtor, and I take that as a good sign. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I have this fear that the house must have some fatal flaw, or it would have sold long ago. I know I’m pessimistic. It’s hard not to be. We have been disappointed so many times.

On the short drive to see the house, I talk non-stop about nothing just to keep myself distracted from thinking the worse, that we will drive up and see an Under Contract sign. Or that Stella will call at the last moment and cancel. But none of that happens, and James and I arrive in front of the Georgian property without incident. I scan the whole front yard and don’t see a Sold or Under Contract sign, and I sigh in relief.

James puts the parking brake on but leaves the heat running because Stella hasn’t arrived yet. Just as I’m thinking, Where’s Stella? Where’s Stella? She pulls up behind us. She gets out of her car at the same time as we do. “Good morning, Karen and James; how are you two on this fine day?”

We laugh because this is the same thing. Stella says every time we see her. If there were a snow blizzard, she would say the same thing. She is an optimistic person. Probably one of the things I love about her the most. “We’re fine, Stella, we are really excited about seeing the house. Did you find out any information about it or its owners?”

“Well, I can tell you this the owners were elderly and passed away within two months of each other, and the house has been empty for over a year. The realtor I spoke to said it’s a beautiful house, well-maintained with no real problems. But for some unknown reason, no one has made an offer on it. Shall we go inside, or do you want to take a walk around the property first?”

“Let’s go inside first, shall we. I’m so excited about seeing it. I couldn’t sleep all night.”

“Alright, let’s do that. Oh, one other thing. When the owners passed away, there were no living relatives nearby to clean out the house. So, whoever purchases the house can keep all the furniture or sell it if that’s what they choose to do. But I imagine that the house needs to be cleaned from top to bottom since it has been empty. Let’s go in, shall we?”

“Do you have any idea why the house hasn’t been sold? Does it need a new roof or some other expensive repair done?”

“Not that I have heard from the realtor I spoke to. But if you decide to make a bid on it, it would certainly make sense to have an inspector come and look over the entire property from top to bottom. It would be well worth the expense, Karen. I can give the name of someone I worked with before; however, if you know someone, that’s fine. Let’s go, shall we?”

As we walk toward the house, I fell more in love with it. The outside of the house is pristine, aside from the fact that the grass hadn’t been cut in a long time. And the landscaping is overgrown. As we step up onto the front porch, Stella punches the key code into the lockbox and pushes the door open.

It has a large entryway in ceramic tile. I can see that underneath the dust and dirt is a work of art. “Wow, look at this floor; it must be the original flooring. Magnificent.” To the right of the entryway is the living room with Victorian furniture and a brick fireplace. And beyond that are double doors into a dining room that looks like it could seat ten people. I walk through the double doors, and I can see that the furniture is antique. It wasn’t in pristine shape but still wonderful. The upholstered cushions on the chairs will need to be replaced. The china cabinet still had china inside of it.

Beyond the kitchen is a door. I step through it, and there is a small pantry and a kitchen. The kitchen has appliances that appear to be from the 1950s. They will have to be replaced as well. But still, it was charming and welcoming. “Oh, James, come look at the kitchen.”

As I look at the kitchen, I glanced out the back door windows. I noticed that the backyard is small, but there is a large two-car garage and a small pond with a waterfall. I think to myself, good less yard work to do. “Hey James, there’s a two-car garage and a small pond out here.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, come have a look. Let’s go outside and see if there are any fish in there.”

As James comes into the kitchen, he looks all around and says, “will you look at this kitchen. It feels like we just stepped into the 1950s; everything is hot pink and turquoise. And look at this stove, a double oven above the stovetop, and you have to pull out the range. It’s hidden. Wow, can you believe it? I wonder if it still works. The electricity is turned on.

We step out the back door and realize that the back steps are a death trap. Every time we took a step, the bricks would move under our feet and fall to the step below. “Woah, we better look back here after we are through looking at the rest of the house. These steps aren’t safe to walk on.”

We walk back through the kitchen and the living room and up the stairs to the second floor. There are three large bedrooms up there and two full baths. As we came down the steps, we stand in the living room and look around. “you know James, I would want to buy this house for the living room alone. The beautiful fireplace, the built-in bookshelves, the walk-in closet, and all this awesome antique furniture.”

“Me, too, but still. I think we have to get an engineer here to look the place over. And make sure there aren’t any major repairs that have to be made that we don’t have the money to repair or replace.

“Karen, let’s take a look around the grounds and then, on the way home talking about whether we want to make an offer. We can tell Sheila the offer is contingent on what the engineer says about the house, of course.”

“I agree, James. This is going to be our house. I know it is. I’m in love with it already.”

“I have to admit I love it too, Karen.”

The engineer comes two days later and inspects the property from the roof all the way down to the basement. There are some minor repairs but no big issues. Our realtor, Sheila, made our offer, and the sellers accept it almost immediately. We are somewhat surprised that they didn’t make a counteroffer. But, didn’t think about it too much. I want that house so badly. When I receive the call from Sheila, I immediately call James and give him the good news.

A month to the day after we made our offer, we went to settlement. We go out to lunch to celebrate the purchase of our first home. The engineer found no immediate problems. The basement is dry; however, they did mention that the roof would probably have to be replaced in the next ten years or so. We decide that by then, we would have replenished our savings and be able to afford it. Plus, we both expected pay increases in the next year.

After lunch, about ten minutes after we arrive at our new house, our movers arrived with our belongings. I was busy cleaning and know I would be busy cleaning for the next week or so. All the floors were the original hardwood and hadn’t be cleaned or waxed in a decade. We worked all that day and were just finishing up when the doorbell rings.

I see the top of the heads of several people in the windows on the front door. And I thought, who could that be? We don’t know anyone in the neighborhood yet. I yelled up the steps.” I’ll get it, James. I run my fingers through my hair and hope I don’t have any dirt or cobwebs on my face. I put a smile on my face and pull open the front door. I’m about to say, Hello, how are you when I saw my new neighbors standing there. There was a middle-aged woman, a teenage girl, and a middle-aged fit-looking man.

I open the door and stand there transfixed by surprise, unable to utter a single word. Because standing before me are three people completely nude, naked, without any clothing of any sort, naked as Jaybirds, naked as the day they were born.

They smiled in unison and said, “Hello.”, and then the woman says, “we’re the Henderson Family. We live two houses down on this side of the street. We just wanted to be the first people to welcome you to our neighborhood. We were so afraid no one was going to buy this beautiful home. We knew it would be hard to sell because of our community’s nature, but we didn’t think it would take as long as it did.

She reaches out her hand to shake mine. I hesitate for a moment since I had never shaken a naked woman’s hand before. “Hello, and thank you. What may I ask is the nature of the community?”

She looks at me as if I must have lost my mind or something. And she says, “Well, of course, I was referring to the fact that we are Naturalist, or perhaps nudist is a term you would recognize?”

My husband and I look at each other with our mouths open and then snap them shut. We look at them. Both of us keep our eyes averted. And the woman says, “Harry, I don’t think they knew.” And they all burst out laughing. And then she says, but don’t worry, it’s not a requirement. We are open-minded, you don’t have to participate, but you have to accept and not judge our community standards. As we will be about your lifestyle.”
I look at James, and he looks at me, and he says, “of course, we knew. Thank you all for coming by. We appreciated your warm welcome, and then he takes a step backward.

I suppose he’s fearful that they might start hugging us. I did the same.

Then the woman who was doing all the talking says, “oh, forgetful me. I forgot to introduce ourselves. I’m Jillian, and this is my husband, William, and my daughter, Sandy. We’re so looking forward to getting to know you all. Oh, I brought you a basket of fruit as a welcome. I hope you like tropical fruit.”

“Oh, we do, thanks again. And I forgot to introduce ourselves as well; I’m Karen, and this is my husband, James Conway, and down there at your feet is our cat, Bowtie, she’s very friendly. We hope to see more of you all in the future.” And that’s when I started laughing and couldn’t stop myself. Talk about putting your foot in your mouth. They all started laughing and then so did we. They thanked us and went on their way. We backed into our front door and sat down on the floor. “Well, that was a surprise,” says James. And we laugh until we ran out of breath.

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THE DAY WILL COME

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Fortune Teller from Sheroes Entertainment.com

Once every couple of years, my siblings and I get together, and we hire a psychic to predict our futures. I know it sounds ridiculous. I’m a skeptic of the group, but still, I go along with them every time. We rarely get together, so I prefer to think of it as a family outing.

And however slim, there’s a chance we might actually find a real psychic to tell us our futures. My sisters truly believe if they find the “right psychic,” they will hear whatever it is that they need to hear.

Personally, I would like to hear good news for once, even if it is fictitious. The psychics in the past have told me I will develop a nerve issue and even that I will get Lupus. Thank god those two things never came to pass. They told me my daughter would eventually decide to have children and have twins, a boy and a girl. My daughter is now past childbearing years and never wanted children. So, I take everything they say with a grain of salt.

Not that I believe in a god any more than I believe in psychics. But I do understand why people want to believe in god. It’s reassuring to believe that there’s this Supreme Being up there watching over us and keeping us safe. And he’s offering us an eternity of happiness after we pass away and that we will see all our loved ones that have passed again.

I do not try to talk anyone out of their beliefs because what is the point? For one, they won’t believe me, and two, who am I to take away their hope? Even if it is false hope.

The day finally arrives when we’re all going to see the psychic. It’s being held at my oldest sister Irene’s house in her living room. The rest of us sit in the kitchen, awaiting our turn. And even though I do not doubt she is a fraud, I know that no one has psychic ability. I still sit there waiting my turn to talk to her somewhat anxiously. And in addition to that, I believe if anyone were going to have any psychic ability, it would be me. Yes, I know that is a ridiculous statement to make, considering I have said there are no “psychics.” But even I have my moments of being illogical.

I’m a sensitive person. My feelings are easily hurt. In addition, I am sensitive to how other people are “feeling” even if they don’t say anything. I can tell when people are not truthful. Yes, I’m able to read body language, but it’s I feel what they’re feeling. That is the ability I think these psychics have, the ability to sense what others are feeling. They don’t have the ability to foresee the future. And I think people give “psychic” hints by the questions they ask. And if all the participants are related, they will tell the psychic things, and she or he can put all this information together and make predictions, not unlike creating a quilt from different patches.

The psychic arrives as we all patiently sit in Irene’s kitchen. We share pleasantries and drink coffee or tea and eat homemade cake. It’s my favorite yellow cake with white icing and shredded coconut. I could eat a couple more pieces, but I stop at one.

She walks gracefully into the living room. It almost seems like she is floating. She’s an attractive thirty-something. Her hair is long and wavy, halfway down her back, and light brown with blond highlights. She has the palest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. It’s hard not to stare at her. Her eyes are mesmerizing. And her smile could light up the darkest room. She stands in the middle of the living room and introduces herself, “Good afternoon, my name is Aislee. I’m from County Down Patrick in Northern Ireland. I’m from a family with a history of psychics going back over hundreds of years. A gift that was inherited from my great, great, great, great grandmother. All the women in my family have this gift.

She has a beautiful voice with an Irish lilt to it. It’s wonderful to hear. I could listen to her all day even if everything she said were full of malarky, as my mother used to say. She scans the room and makes eye contact with each one of us. I have the urge to look away from her, irrationally feeling she might look deep into my psyche and read my deepest thoughts. I know I’m being illogical, given the fact that I don’t believe in psychics. She is convinced I give her that.

My older sister, Irene, is the first person she “reads.” All of us bring paper and a pen with us to write down her “predictions.” We never discuss what the “psychic says until after she leaves, and not everyone wants to tell others what was told to them. I have recorded all the predictions told to me over the years. And not one of them came true. I can’t speak to my sister’s experiences.

I’m the last one to go into the living room to sit for the reading. I say, “Hello.” And she says, “Good afternoon, Kathleen. How are you feeling today?” No, she didn’t miraculously know my name. She has a list of our names. And since I was the last one, it was just a matter of elimination of who she already spoke to.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

“So, Kathleen, you’re the youngest in the family?” Again, she knew that ahead of time.

“Yes, yes, I am.”

“Do you have any issues that you would like to ask about or anyone who has passed over that you would like to ask a question?”

I stare at her for a moment and wonder what I should ask her. I know it seems disingenuous to speak to these mediums or psychics, anticipating that everything they do or say is some trick. Maybe I want them to have this ability on some level. Maybe, I would like to know the future. I have many experiences in the past that could have turned out better if I had known in advance how I could avoid them or mitigate the problem before it happened.

“Well, I don’t know if you can answer this question, but I often think about my older sibling that disappeared when I was relatively young. Can you tell me what happened to her? Do you know if she is still alive somewhere? Or if she suffered before she died?

Aislee closes her eyes and becomes quiet, almost too quiet. It seems as if she has gone to sleep. And after a couple of minutes, she opens up her eyes as if she’s waking up from a dream. You know when you begin to wake up from an afternoon nap. And you’re not sure where you are or what day it is, like that. She keeps blinking her eyes as if the light is too bright. And then her eyes open really wide as if she’s surprised by something unexpected.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, but I have something to tell you. Your sister, Carol, ran away from home with some boy. When she was in high school, she was no longer alive now, but she passed away recently from an illness of some kind. I’m sorry. That’s all I can tell you right now.”

“You’re kidding? Did any one of my sisters tell you her name? Tell me the truth.”

“No, no one told me her name.”

“Can you tell me where she was living after she ran away? Or who she ran away with? Was she still with the same person until she passed away?”

“No, she was alone when she passed away. That’s all I can tell you right now. Maybe I will be able to tell you something more at another time.”

“Alright, I guess that’s all for now. I walk out of the room in shock. And when I return to the kitchen, I grab a glass and fill it with cold water from the tap and gulp it down. I rinse the glass out, walk over to the kitchen table and flop down in the nearest seat.

My sister, Terri, stares at me for a moment and says, “You look like you saw a ghost. What happened?”

“I’m not ready to talk about it right now.”

“OK, but now I’m really curious. I thought you didn’t believe in psychics. What have you so spooked?”

“I said, I don’t want to talk about it right now. I have to think about it for a while. I know there has to be some trick to it.”

After Aislee left, my sisters and I sat at the kitchen table. I still hadn’t said anything about what Aislee said to me. And then my sister, Irene, said, “Spill Kathleen, what did she say to you? You’re not leaving here until you do. And in unison, my sisters said, “spill.”

“OK, OK. Aisling asked me if there were any questions I wanted to ask or anyone I wanted to contact that had passed. And I said no, but I would like to know what happened to my older sister, who disappeared when she was a teenager. We never heard from her again. And then I asked if she was still alive. Aisling said, your sister Carol ran away from home with a boy. But she’s no longer alive. She passed away recently from an illness. And then I point-blank asked her how she knew my missing sister’s name. I asked her if one of you had talked about her. And she said, no.”

“She also said it was possible she would be able to tell me more sometime in the future. And now I want to know if any of you told her about Carol, or did any of you even mention Carol’s name?”

They all sit at the kitchen table with their mouths hanging open and say in unison, “I didn’t mention Carol or another sister.”

“Irene, you are the oldest. Do you remember anything about Carol’s disappearance? Or do you remember anything that our parents believed happened to her?”

“Honestly, Kathleen, I don’t remember many details. That was a long time ago”, said Irene. And Mom and Dad didn’t talk to any of us about it. I do remember Dad seemed angry for a long time, and Mom cried and cried. Even years later, I recall hearing her cry in their room at night. After a year or so, neither of them mentioned the disappearance or Carol at all, for that matter. I don’t think either one of them ever got over it. That’s probably why they were so overprotective and controlling of all of us when we were teenagers.

How about you guys? Kathleen looks at her remaining sister. Terri looked at Kathleen and said, “No, I don’t really remember much at all. Maybe I blanked it out. And you’re right. Kathleen, Mom, and Dad were never the same again. And they were extremely controlling with us as we got older.”

“I’d like to know how come the three of us never talked about this before. Did either of you ever ask the other psychics about Carol?”

Both Irene and Terri shook their heads no.

“Wow, that is really weird. We all acted like Carol never existed. We are really messed up. And I think we started this psychic thing because of Carol. At some subconscious level, we all wanted to know what happened to her. But none of us said it out loud.

“But at the time, did you two talk about it at all? Were the police involved, was her disappearance publicized? Did the neighbors or the townspeople look for her at all?”

“Honestly, the only thing I remember is one night Carol didn’t come home, but I didn’t hear about it until sometime the next day. Which was a Saturday, and I used to sleep- in since it wasn’t a school day. I heard a loud knocking at the front door, and then Mom and Dad let them in, and I heard them talking to the person at the door. I got up and looked down the steps, and there was a cop and a guy in a suit standing in the vestibule. I tried to hear what they were saying, but it was kind of muffled. And then I heard what sounded like Mom crying, and Dad sounded angry. “

“What about you, Terri?” I had my radio on pretty loud, and I didn’t hear anything. When the cops left, one of them slammed the door hard, and that’s when I came down to find out what was going on. Mom and Dad looked really upset., Mom was crying. Irene was in there with them, and tears were running down her face. She looked over at me, and I started crying even though I didn’t know what was going on.”

“Yeah, I remember that because that’s when Dad said Carol didn’t come home last night. We called her boyfriend’s house, and he didn’t come home either. I guess they ran off together. We called all of Carol’s friends, and they all said they didn’t see them last night and don’t know anything that could help us. That’s when we called the police. The police just told us that they would put an All-Points Bulletin out. And they suggested we start posting pictures of Carol around town to see if anyone had talked to her or her boyfriend and might know where they planned to go. I guess the police are going over to the boy’s house now to talk to the parents.”

Mom and Dad kept calling the police every couple of weeks, but the police never found them, Nor did they have any idea where they went. The officer contacted all the police in the state, and then later, the FBI got involved, but as far as I know, they never found any trace of them.

We didn’t talk about it anymore because Mom got so upset. And Dad would be angry for days when we did. So, after a while, we all stop talking about Carol. As if she never existed. Every once in a while, one of the kids at school would say, “Hey, did you ever hear from Carol?” We never did, and after a few years, no one asked anymore.

“So, life just went on as if Carol never existed. And now we hear from Aislee that up until recently, Carol was alive. Why the hell wouldn’t she contact us? What happened to her? I can’t believe this. On the other hand, I’m glad I finally talked to you guys about it. Sometimes I used to think Carol was a figment of my imagination since no one ever talked about her. Even when Mom and Dad grew old, they never mentioned her. And I couldn’t find any pictures of Carol in our photo album.”

“Oh, Dad got rid of all the pictures because Mom would spend whole days staring at the pictures of Carol and crying. After Dad died five years ago, when I went through his personal items, I found a picture of you, me, Irene, and Carol when we were young in Dad’s wallet. I still have it.”

“You have it. Do you have it with you?”

“Yes, it’s in my wallet in my purse. Hold on; I’ll go get it.”

“Here, Kathleen, here it is. That’s Carol holding you in her lap.”

I took one look, and tears started streaming down my face. “Yes, yes, that’s her. She looked just like Mom. Then we all started crying and hugging each other. Kathleen said, you know, we could post this picture on the internet and see if anyone recognizes her. I don’t know how helpful it would be since she was just a kid in this picture. I could post a picture with the story of her disappearance and see if anyone knew her. It couldn’t hurt.”

“You know, it feels better to talk about Carol out loud. I thought of her so much over the years. And I wondered what happened to her. Why didn’t she try and contact any of us in all these years since she only died recently? It doesn’t make sense.”

“I agree, Terri. It doesn’t make sense. But we were all really young back then, and we didn’t really know what was going on with her. Maybe she got pregnant or something, or she was doing drugs. Let’s try and see if we can find someone that might have to know her. And you know what else? I bet some of her old high school friends might have pictures of her in high school, and then we can post them. What do you say?”

“I say, let’s go for it. Tomorrow I will call the High School office and see if they have records going that far back and get a list of the kids in her class. And then I’ll check out the internet and see if any of them are still living in the area or maybe some of their relatives still live in town, and I can talk to them. What do you say?”

“Let’s go for it, Kathleen, do it. I’ll help. Once you get the list, I’ll take half and start making calls.”

“Hey, me too, you guys, we’ll all do it.”

And that is how we began our search for our long-lost sister, and in the end, that was what brought us all together more than once a year. We realize that we were a family, and we needed one another through thick and thin. So, our sister, Carol, was the reason we are now a more loving and caring family.

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TICK-TOCK, TICK TOCK

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The last two years have by far been the most difficult years in my entire life. I’m not trying to be overly dramatic or garner attention or sympathy. I’m just stating the truth. Yes, I’m speaking from my perspective. Who’s else would I speak from?

Home in Moorestown, NJ

First, my mother developed terminal cancer, and then my father started exhibiting memory issues that worsened over time. I’m an only child, and there was no one else to help me. In addition, I have a high-pressure job. I couldn’t just stop working and stay home with my parents. Who was going to pay the bills?

After my mother passed away, I had to make the difficult decision to place my father in an assisted living residence. I wasn’t selfish. I

was practical. The day-to-day care of my father as he declined was more than I could handle. I was exhausted. Sometimes, he would roam around the house at night and come into my room crying that he wanted to kill himself or just come in and wake me up several times a night.

I never got enough sleep. I had to bathe him and change him several times a day because he became incontinent. He had to be watched while he ate. Because sometimes he forgot to chew his food and would choke on it. You can’t possibly understand how stressful and exhausting it was unless you experienced it yourself.

I made the decision that was the best for both of us. He was safe. And caring people took care of him twenty-four hours a day. I saw him as often as possible. He passed away after six months while he was living in the nursing home. After he fell and broke his hip, I did the best I could; it wasn’t my fault that he fell.

My script is due in less than a week, and I can’t afford to be late. On the other hand, I don’t want to send in a script that will be rejected. I have a reputation to uphold. I’m running out of capital, and so I’ve been writing non-stop scripts hoping that one or all of them might get approved and get me back in the black and out of the red.

Being a writer is not an easy job, not by any means. You spend a lot of time alone. Writing is a lonely job. Then there’s the additional bugaboos, procrastination, and writer’s block.

My biggest problem is procrastination. I can find reasons to delay writing for hours, days even. After all, I’m a creative guy. I have to take Al to the park. He hasn’t been anywhere except in the backyard for a week. I need a haircut. I have to get a haircut; I’m starting to look like a hippie. I haven’t had a decent meal for a week; I go out to lunch with a friend. This takes care of loneliness and hunger at the same time, a twofer. Unfortunately, I like to have a shot or two or three when I go out to lunch. And that tends to put a dent in both my creativity and my typing.

If I’m able to get past the procrastination, the blank page can deter me for quite a while. But eventually, eventually I get an idea and type away, and before you know it, I’ve finished the script or the screenplay, the short story, or even the book.

But it doesn’t look like today is going to be one of those days. I’m staring at the laptop screen, and I find myself humming “Troubled Waters.” And then, out of the blue, there’s a loud knocking at the door. It startles me so much that I scream out, “holy shit.” And then I laugh at myself. Who do I think it is, the bogyman? Or the bill collector? No, it can’t be that no one really sends out bill collectors anymore.

Well, that’s not entirely true once last year, I fell six months behind in my car payment, and they came and towed my rental car away. I have terrible credit. I’m not entirely reliable in either paying my bills on time because of lack of funds or just plain undependable, I guess. I make good money when I work. But as I said, I have a problem with procrastination and the fear of the white page.

I hear the knocking again. It is more insistent and louder. Al starts barking in earnest and goes so far as to stand up and look towards the sound of the knocking. Al isn’t a very energetic dog. He sleeps about fifteen hours a day. But the loud knocking keeps disturbing his naptime. Finally, we both get up and head toward the front door. Al takes the lead, barking the whole way. If you ever heard a Basset Hound bark, you know it’s no joke. It can be loud and resonates through the whole house. The knocking continues.

We arrive at the front door, and I look out the glass windows on the door. I see a brown cap. He’s still knocking. I quickly unlock the door with one hand and pull it open. I hold Al by his collar with my other hand. A surly face is on the other side of the door. “I have a delivery. You have to sign for it.”

I grab the clipboard and quickly scribble my illegible signature. And then he hands me a small package. I take it and shut the door. “Asshole,” I say to the closed door.

Al and I retreat to the living room, and I sit down on the couch, and Al lies down on the area rug and falls asleep in moments. I will never understand how dogs can fall asleep in a single moment. I envy him.

I carefully open up the small package. Inside I find a key. It looks old. Like the kind of key that my grandparents had on their doors. The one that could open all the exterior doors. I think they used to call it a Skeleton Key.

The key is taped on a handwritten note. It bears the legend; this key is for the house that belongs to you now. You are the last living member of the family now. If you have received this key, it is because I am no longer among the living. There is a signature on the note, but it isn’t legible, no phone number, just an address. 2567 Crofton Way, Moorestown, New Jersey. It sounds familiar, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.

“Come on, Al, let’s go have lunch, and then I will try and find out what this is all about.” Al doesn’t answer me. Al isn’t much of a talker, probably because Al is a Basset Hound.

And then the two of us head toward the kitchen. I sure could use a strong hot coffee right now. I pour dry dog food into Al’s bowl and make myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Whenever I’m stressed, I eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Probably harkens back to my long-ago childhood days. I spread the peanut butter twice as thick. And I pour myself a steaming hot coffee. I’ll be the first to admit I am addicted to caffeine. Al looks up at me as if to say, any dessert?”

“No, that’s it, Al. How about I let you out in the backyard to relieve yourself.” Al looks up at me with his sad Basset eyes as if I’m asking him for a payday loan. He reluctantly heads toward the back door. I hold it open, and he goes out into the yard and is soon consumed with smelling all the smells. A Basset Hound is really all about the nose and smelling.

I pick up my phone and google the address. And Google magically comes up with the information that the address is the former home of none other than Cecile Menlo, my mother’s brother, who has apparently passed away.

Cecile Menlo, wow, now that’s a blast from the past. I scrounge up a memory of my long-ago childhood. I have to dust it off it was that old. I drink down the first cup of coffee quickly and scorch my throat. I pour a second one and sip it ever so slowly as my childhood memory comes flooding back to me.

It was in the mid-sixties I was in middle school. And that my friends were a long, long time ago. But still, those are the years of my life that I always felt I were the happiest. The endless summers with no responsibilities, swimming at the lake or my neighborhood friends above ground pools, riding my bike all over town. As long as I was home for meals on time, no one questioned my whereabouts or what I had been up to.

And then there were the summers I spent with my uncle Cecile Menlo. He lived in a house in Moorestown, NJ; it was so enormous, so over the top, it was hard to believe it was real. He had made big money as one of the original investors at RCA in Moorestown, NJ. RCA was a large facility that developed and manufactured government apparatus. And eventually became a division of RCA Government and Commercial Systems.

My uncle retired at forty, which was unheard of since most people worked until they turned sixty-five or older. Summers at his house were a kid’s dream come true. He had several pools and tennis courts and property so immense it would take hours, if not days, to see it all. He used to show movies on a screen so large that it felt like you were at the movie theater. He had horses, and I used to ride all over the property. My friends would come over, and we would play crocket or swim or hide and seek. His Fourth of July parties were out of this world. He had fireworks that could be seen all over Moorestown by everyone that lived there.

My uncle was a big influence on me as a child. He taught me self-confidence and said if I worked hard enough and long enough I could achieve anything, I set my mind to it. He was the one adult that encouraged my creativity. Everyone else thought spending most of my time writing stories was a waste of time: even my parents, but not my Uncle Cecile.

As I sit here thinking about those summers with my uncle, I wonder how I ever lost contact with him, he meant so much to me as I was growing up. Why did I drift away from him? And then I remembered that when I first achieved some fame with the first books I got published, I let go of all the people from my past and left them behind. I made new friends with the rich and famous.

I vaguely remember that my Uncle reached out to me over the years, and I never contacted him. I was too important, too busy to care about an old relative. And now here I am, all alone in a house struggling to make ends meet. Struggling because I don’t have the self-discipline to work hard and work smart like my uncle always told me to do.

And here he was, reaching out from the great beyond once more to give me yet another opportunity to do better. And to lift me out of my self-indulgence and self-pity. I have to admit to myself that I don’t deserve his help, but I need it. And this time, I decide I will do the right thing. I’m sure I don’t need a huge house and property. But I could sell the house pay my bills, get back on my feet. And then invest whatever money is left to help kids like I was. Kids who needed someone to care about them and mentor them and encourage them to realize that they too have what it takes to make something of themselves when everyone and everything around them says differently.

I pick up the phone and call the lawyer whose name and number are on the letter I received. “Hello, could I speak to Taylor Brown. My name is Johnathan Cummings. I received a letter and key this morning stating that I was the sole beneficiary of a house that once belonged to my Uncle Cecile Menlo in Moorestown, New Jersey. Would you possibly have time to speak to me in the next couple of days about this inheritance?”

“Tomorrow at one o’clock would be perfect, thank you. I will see you then.” I hear Al scratching and howling at the door, and I go over and let him in. He rubs his neck against my leg. He does this to put his scent on me. So, all the other dogs know I belong to him. But to tell you the truth, Al is my best friend. “Al, guess what, tomorrow we’re going to take a road trip, and you’re going to get to see a place where I spent the best years of my life when I was a kid at my Uncle Cecile’s house in New Jersey.”

Al looks up at me with his big, sad eyes and his doggy smile and lets out a howl. I lean over and hug him. And say, “who’s the best dog in the world, Al? You are Al, you are. And I smile at him and feel the best I’ve felt in years.

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TODAY IS THE FIRST DAY OF THE REST OF YOUR LIFE

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I met someone so unique and so special. She changed me for the better. And it all began with her smile.

I met her by chance, really. If I had arrived at the park an hour earlier or an hour later, our paths might never have crossed. I recently moved to the area and didn’t know a soul. I had been unemployed for several months. And then finally, finally, I received a call asking if I was still interested in a job I had applied for two months before.

I barely remember applying for the job. I could paper the walls with all the rejection letters I received for my job applications. Anyway, I think this job has something to do with selling high-risk auto insurance. Not my dream job, of course, but when you’re desperate and need to pay your rent and keep body and soul together, you can’t afford to be that picky.

The interview is scheduled for today at ten o’clock sharp. They told me not to come too early or late because they had interviews scheduled back to back. I decided it would be better to arrive early and wait than to arrive late and miss out on my job interview.

I had to take public transportation to get to the office for the job interview. My car broke down several weeks ago. It turned out that the transmission needed to be replaced. I don’t have the money in hand, nor did I have a credit card that isn’t maxed out.

I took the bus across town that would bring me closest to my destination. As I arrived,i t started to drizzle. I glanced at my watch and realized I was a half-hour early for my appointment. I didn’t bring my umbrella, so I just pulled my jacket hood up over my head.

As I stepped down from the bus, I noticed a park bench that was situated under a large flowering tree and thought it might offer some protection from the rain until it was time for my interview.

I walked across the grass towards the tree, and I noticed there was someone about to sit down on the bench. The rain started coming down harder, and I picked up my pace and ran toward the bench.

I was out of breath by the time I arrived and more than a little damp. I plopped down on the bench and took a deep breath. I kept thinking, why, oh why do I have such bad luck?

Apparently, I said it out loud without realizing it, and the girl sitting next to me turned toward me and said, “Hello, my name is April. How are you today?”

I was somewhat taken aback by her appearance at first. She had straight brown hair, parted in the middle, with bangs high above her eyebrows. Her eyes looked somewhat unusual. They were tilted up somewhat. At first, I thought she might be Asian. But I couldn’t put my finger on just what made her face so unusual.

I’m not the most socially outgoing person, and ordinarily, I don’t feel comfortable talking to strangers. But there was something about her face, her smile that is so welcoming, so endearing that I couldn’t imagine not answering her. She seems so open, so innocent somehow. Although I can see now as I‘m looking at her more closely, she isn’t a child at all but a young adult. She has narrow shoulders. Her hands are small, almost like a child’s, and folded in her lap. And I can see that she’s petite, less than five feet tall.

She smiles again, a sweet smile. The smile reaches her eyes. I smile back at her. Her smile is contagious. I can’t remember the last time I smiled. I have been so distracted by my unemployment and lack of funds in the last months.

I have always been told I was reticent. In other words, I’m not the type of person that starts having conversations with people I don’t know. I realize now that’s probably the reason I haven’t made any friends since I moved here.

I say, “hello, April, my name is Jeanie.” At first, I’m so shocked by the fact that I’ve spoken to her that I laugh out loud. And then she laughs too. Then, we were both laughing at what I don’t know.

She says, “I have an umbrella.” And she picks up her umbrella that had been resting next to her feet. “Would you like to share it with me?”

“Really? Yes, I really would. I have a job interview across the street in about a half-hour. I forgot my umbrella, and I really don’t want to go in there soaking wet.”

She smiles again and moves closer to me so I can share her umbrella. I hear her humming under her breath. It sounds like When April Showers Bring May Flowers. I can’t remember all the lyrics but I find myself humming along with her.

She looks over at me and says, “I hope you get the job.”

“Thank you, I hope I do too, I really need it.:

She says, “I will keep my fingers crossed for you.”

I smile at her again. I can’t remember the last time anyone said that to me. Probably when I was a kid. In fact, there’s something childlike about her. As if she hadn’t been tainted by the thousand negative experiences, we all have as we grow from children to adults.

I look over at her, and I can hear her still humming quietly to herself as she looks around the park. I look in the direction she’s staring, and I realize she’s watching three kids about eight or nine years old. They’re swinging on the swings and going up and down the sliding board, over and over again. They keep yelling out “yey” every time they slide down the sliding board.

I can see her mouthing “yey” when the girls yell. She seems to be enjoying it almost as much as they do. I watch her in wonder and think who is this young woman?

After about fifteen minutes of watching the kids, I realize I better be on my way to my interview. I stand up and say,” April, I just want to say thank you for sharing your umbrella with me. I enjoyed meeting you so much.”

“Oh, do you have to go?”

“Well, April I have to go on that job interview I was talking about earlier. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, Jeanie. I know for sure you’ll get that job.”

I headed toward my interview with a lighter heart than I had arrived and sat down on the bench in the park. I walk across the street to the office building through the swinging doors and up to the receptionist’s desk.

“Hello, my name is Jeanie Haskell. I have an appointment with Mr. Peabody for a job interview.”

“Oh, yes Ms. Haskell, I see a note here, it says you are to go straight to his office. His office is number 254. Just take the elevator up to the second floor and make a right and walk down the hall until you see office number 254.”

“Thanks so much. Wish me luck I’m applying for a job.”

She looks up at me and smiles, good luck Ms. Haskell, I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

I wave at her and smile and walk toward the elevator across the room. As I walk over there, I start thinking what in the world is going on with me? Wish me luck.

And then I think, well, she was so friendly to me, maybe because I talked to her like she’s a person just like I am. Everyone wants to be treated with respect and kindness. In the past, I rarely talked to people unless I absolutely had to. I was always afraid that they would ignore me or reject me. Maybe I’m the one that has to change how I interact with people I meet.

I arrive on the second floor without any incident. I’ve always been somewhat frightened by elevators. I hate the closed space, and the possibility that it might fall and crash and I’ll be killed. And then I start laughing because even if it fell it would only go to the first floor or maybe the basement and I wouldn’t die.

The elevator doors open after the bell rings and I step out and look from right to left. I see an office marked 254 to my right and walk over to it. I take a deep breath and open the door. I walk over to the receptionist and say, “Good afternoon, my name is Jeanie Haskell. I have an appointment with Mr. Peabody.”

“Yes, we’re expecting you. You’re right on time. Do you have your resume with you?”

“Yes, I have it right here.” And I take it out of my purse and hand it to her.

“Well, Miss Haskell, have a seat it will just be a few minutes.”

“Thank you.” And then I sit down across the room from her desk. I take a deep breath. And I say to myself, so far, so good. At least the waiting room isn’t packed with twenty other people applying for the same job.

About five minutes later, the receptionist called out my name. “Ms. Haskell, Mr. Peabody will see you now.”

I walk up to Mr. Peabody’s door, and as I’m about to open it, I turn around and say, “thank you, Miss Turner.” I had noticed her nameplate sitting on her desk.

“Good luck, Ms. Haskell.”
I knock quietly on the door. And I hear a deep male voice call out, “Come right in.”

I take a deep breath and quietly pull the door open. There’s a thirty-something man sitting at his desk, which is piled high with folders. “Good morning you must be Ms. Haskell, have a seat.”

“So, thank you for coming in today. I see here in your resume that you have some experience that might be beneficial to my business. However, there has been a recent gap in your work history. Would you care to explain that?”

“Well, my mother was sick, and I had to take considerable time off to take care of her. And then I couldn’t find a job. Well, that’s not entirely true, I found quite a few openings but there was so much competition for the jobs. I had that big employment gap and that made it more difficult to get hired.”

“Yes, I can see how that would and does happen. Do you feel that you are able to be a reliable employee now? Or do you think you will still be missing work because of your mother’s health issues?”

“No, I don’t. My mother passed away. And that is when I began searching for a job full-time. But I haven’t had any luck. I promise you I will be a reliable and trustworthy employee. I’m a hard worker.”

“Yes, I can see that all your past employers said you had been a highly reliable and diligent worker. Have you ever sold high-risk auto insurance.? I don’t recall seeing that on your resume.”

“No, but I have had jobs with customer service and sales. And I don’t think that selling high-risk auto insurance would be that different from my past work experience.”

“I agree, are you able to start working immediately, say this coming Monday?”

“Yes, I can start today, if you like.”

“No, I think Monday would be just fine. Would you ask Ms. Turner to give you the forms that you will need to fill out before you leave? I look forward to working with you Ms. Haskell. I’ll see you at 9 am sharp on Monday.”

As I left his office I sighed with relief. I somehow feel lighter and less weighed down by worry. When I arrive at Ms. Turner’s desk, she said,” Well, Congratulations Ms. Haskell. “I had a good feeling about you. Here’s the paperwork. You can sit over at that desk and fill out the papers and then bring them back to me.”

“Thank you, Ms. Turner. I’ll take care of that right now.”

After I finished the paperwork, I brought it back to Ms. Turner with a big smile on my face. Thanks so much. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Thank you too, by the way, my name is Kerry. I look forward to it.”

“See you then, Kerry.”

I take the elevator down to the first floor. Honestly, I feel twenty pounds lighter. As I walk across the street, I decide to talk to the young woman sitting on the bench. She waves at me as I came closer to her.

“Hi!” she says with that smile of hers that goes from ear to ear.

“Hello, I just wanted to let you know that I got the job. She smiles again and says, “I was about to eat my lunch. I have two peanut butter sandwiches; would you like one?”

“Well, I didn’t have any breakfast. Are you sure?”

“Yes, I always bring an extra one for a friend, just in case. You can sit here with me and eat it.”

“I would love that, April. I haven’t had lunch with a friend for a long time. Do you eat here often?”

“Well, yes I do, I come here for about an hour every day until it’s time for me to take the bus home. Here’s your sandwich, and you can share my drink too.”

I take the sandwich gratefully. ” Thanks, April. So tell me about yourself. How far do you live from here?”

I take the 424 bus until I get to my street and then I get off and walk a block to the second building on the left number 63 Harrington St.”

“Oh, this sandwich is great, I don’t remember the last time I had peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I used to eat it all the time when I was a kid. Thanks, April. Maybe we could eat together again sometime. I’ll bring lunch. What do you say?”
“I say great, I like cheese too, or peanut butter and jelly.”

“Well, how about next Monday at noontime? When I have my lunch break?”

“Yes, I would like that. It’s good to make a new friend.”

“Yes, yes, it is April, and today was my lucky day when I met you and got a new job. I think you are my lucky charm from now on. I’ll see you then.”

As I walk toward my bus stop, I turn around and wave at April she’s watching the kids again, I wave at her and smile. I realize she’s the one who put a smile back on my face. I look forward to spending more time with her. I find myself humming When April Showers Bring May flowers and smiling from ear to ear.

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Unexpected Surprises Often Come in Small Packages

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I was just about to step into the shower when I hear the doorbell ring. I think about ignoring it, since I was already late getting ready for my luncheon date with my old friend Maryanne. Whoever was at the door is persistent and keeps pushing the doorbell over and over again.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” I say to no one in particular.

Antique pocket watch- photo by Bob Culver

I grab my ancient chenille robe. It’s tattered and torn and stained in places. But it used to belong to my mother. I consider it a family heirloom. And I throw it on, tying it tightly around my waist. I push my feet roughly into my slippers that are also tattered and stained.

I take the steps two at a time. My left slipper comes off my foot and goes careening down the remaining steps. I almost go careening after them. But catch myself at the last minute when I manage to grab the rickety railing.

I can see through the four small windows in the door that the delivery guy is turning and about to leave. I jump down onto the floor at the bottom of the steps and all but pull the door off its hinges in an effort to open the door before he drives away.

The delivery guy has just turned his back on the door and is quick-stepping back to his delivery truck. I start screaming at the top of my lungs, and vigorously waving my arms back and forth.

“Hey buddy, wait, wait I’m here. I was in the bathroom upstairs.” When he turns around, he looks at me as if I’m a mirage or something. As if he can’t believe his eyes. I look down to see what he’s staring at and I realize that my robe has come untied and is flapping in the wind. Unfortunately, last night it was unbearably hot in my bedroom and I slept in the nude.

And that is when I notice my nosy neighbor, Cynthia is walking her dog, Alfred past my house. “Shit. Sorry, Cynthia. Sorry, sorry.” And I pull my robe together and retie the belt.

Cynthia’s face is bright red, she doesn’t say a word. But she keeps staring at me like I’m from another planet. Then she starts shaking her head vigorously from right to left. Alfred barks at me in a somewhat friendlier tone and off they go for their morning constitutional.

By then the delivery guy has made his way back to my doorstep. And he wears an expression on his face that can only be described as wolfish. All his teeth are showing and his eyes look like they’re going to pop out of his head. He leans towards me and I lean back. “Take it, easy lady, I just need you to sign this clipboard and I’ll be on my way.”

I grab the clipboard and the pen that’s hanging off of it and scribble my signature. And then I stick out my hand and he hands me a package that’s about the size of a napkin. “Thank you”, I say as I’m about to turn around and close the door.

He waits for a moment. I guess he thinks he might get a tip. But he isn’t going to get one from me today. I turn around and walk as nonchalantly as I can muster up. As if I didn’t just flash everyone that happen to be on the street this morning. I take my mother’s advice for once. She often said, “when you make a fool out of yourself just keep moving forward and don’t look back.” And that is exactly what I did, let it go and walk through my front door like it was any other day. And I forget about it.

When I get into my house, I firmly close the door and put the chain across it. And walk through the living room into my tiny kitchen. I put the small package on the kitchen counter and turn on the coffee pot. I open the refrigerator door and gaze inside. There isn’t much, I haven’t gone food shopping in two weeks and the cupboard is almost bare. I find a slightly stale piece of rye bread and stick it in the toaster and find I still had a dab of peanut butter in my giant economy size of Chunky Peanut Butter. I practically live on peanut butter; I like it with bananas but I don’t have any left.

I pour the coffee into my favorite mug, it used to belong to my Aunt Merry, which is short for Marilyn. It’s huge, yellow and round with a smiling face. In fact, it was called the Smiley Face Mug. She gave it to me when I moved to the city. It’s from the 1970s. And it is one of the few things I treasure in life. Because it reminds me of all the time I spent every summer with her when I was a kid. She lived within walking distance to the beach. And she grew all her own vegetables in her little garden. We would take long walks across the beach and collect shells and stones. I still have some of the shells somewhere in a box in the back of my closet. Most of my childhood memories that I cherish are from the time I spent with my Aunt Merry. I should have visited her more often.

My mom called me a couple of weeks ago and told me that my Aunt Merry quietly passed away in her sleep. That’s so like her, never wanted to cause anyone any trouble or worry. I should have gone to her funeral, but I didn’t because I didn’t have the money for a round trip bus ticket home. And my mother drinks up all her money. She didn’t even let me know until the day before the funeral.

I finish the last of my coffee and pick up the small package and I realize the return address is my mom’s. “Wow,” I say out loud. My mother never sends me anything. Occasionally she calls me and asks for money. And when I have any, I send it to her. She’s still my mother after all. And she did raise me all alone. And I guess she did the best she could. I should probably visit my mother more too. She’s no longer young. And I don’t know how much time she has left.

I make up my mind that I’m definitely going to go visit my mother, sometime soon. I start tearing the brown paper off the small package and then I shake it. Something is rattling inside. When I open the box, I see something that looks like gold. I pull it out and inside I see a pocket watch on a long, gold chain. I pick it up and look at it closely. It has flowers engraved on the back and my Aunt Merry’s initials and the year 1969. The year she graduated from high school. I remember seeing it in her jewelry box in her house down at the beach. She used to say, “someday this pocket watch will be yours. And it will remind you of all the good times we had together here at the beach.”

I feel a tear run down my cheek and more follow. I start crying and as I realize all the time that I could have spent with my Aunt Merry and I didn’t. I always made excuses not to go. I don’t know why. I put the pocket watch around my neck and go over to the mirror next to the front door and look at myself. As I stand there with the tears running down my face, I see my Aunt’s smiling face looking back at me.

As I’m standing there looking at myself the phone rings. I slowly walk over to the phone and pick it up. “Hello, Kathleen, it’s mom.”

“Yes Mom, I recognize your phone number. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, why did you hear something?”

“No, Mom I didn’t hear anything, you don’t call me often and when you do, it’s usually bad news.”

“Oh, Kathleen, you have always been so overly dramatic. I just called to see if you got the package, I sent you?”

“Yes, Mom, it was just delivered. I always loved that watch. Aunt Merry always promised me she would leave to me when she passed. I’ll cherish it.”

“Yes, she really did love you, Kathleen. I wished you had come and visited her more often you were her favorite niece.”

“You’re right Mom, I should have visited her more. In fact, I was just thinking that I haven’t seen you in quite a while. And I have a few vacation days left that I have to use up by the end of the year. So, how about if I come to see you at the end of next week.”

“Really, Kathleen? I would just love that.”

“Ok, Mom I have a lunch date with one of my friends and I have to get a shower and get dressed and drive across town. I’ll call you next week and let you know the details. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, Kathleen.”

“Bye, Mom talk to you soon.”

As Kathleen hangs up the phone, she realizes that her Aunt Merry gave her a special gift and that was the realization that life is short. And you have to let the people you love know that you love them.

Kathleen takes the steps two at a time and gets ready to go out and meet her friend for lunch. Her heart felt light. And she hasn’t felt this good in years. It’s going to be a good day.

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Revenge Is A Dish Best Served Cold

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I’ve been dating my boyfriend Gregory since I was in the ninth grade. I just graduated from Temple University. The sad truth is that Gregory and I no longer have anything in common.

When I first met Gregory, I thought he was the most handsome boy I ever met. He was outgoing and funny. Wherever Gregory was in the room, there was sure to be a crowd of people around him laughing. Every girl I knew envied me, and wanted Gregory for themselves. Gregory ignored them all. He was loyal to me and didn’t even look at all the girls that tried to seduce him away from me. He was the smartest person I ever met. And not only that he was a star quarterback throughout high school. He received a full-ride scholarship to Vanderbilt University.

Everything comes easily to Gregory. I have to admit he’s a gifted person. In fact, no matter how hard I examined him I can’t find a single fault. So, therein lies the problem. Gregory is too perfect. He excels at everything with very little effort. Everyone loves him, and admires him. Wants to be him.

I know I should consider myself lucky to have Gregory and in the beginning, I did. But over time, I noticed that there was a subtle shift in my feelings for and about Gregory.

I began to resent that Gregory was always in the limelight, always the center of attention, always the STAR. I knew I needed to break up with him before I began to loathe him. He hadn’t done anything to deserve my hate. He was the perfect boyfriend. I know he was going to ask me to marry him after he decided which professional football team, to sign a contract with.

I didn’t want to be known as so and so’s wife. Always on the sidelines, the devoted spouse. Yes, yes, I know. All I had to do is be a loving and faithful wife, and everything I ever dreamed of having would be mine. I would have a gorgeous home, designer clothing, an expensive car, and be able to travel all over the world if that is what I wanted to do.

I’ve tried to talk to Gregory about how I felt, that I had dreams and goals of my own. He would say, sure, sure Babe, whatever you want, and off he would go. After months of delaying the decision to leave Gregory, I finally took the final step and broke up with him.

I admit the timing wasn’t perfect. In fact, I chose the worse time to do it. The afternoon before dinner Gregory’s friends were throwing him a victory party for getting a contract with the New England Patriots.

We were having lunch on the patio of our house. It was such a beautiful day. Early that morning there had been a Spring shower, and the sun had just shown its face and raindrops on the grass were glistening like diamonds in the sand. I had been struggling for weeks trying to decide the best way to tell Gregory about my decision.

I decided the most painless method was to just tell him all at once. Quick and painless I thought. I’ve been trying to tell him in a million different ways over the past year. And he kept blowing me off. If Gregory doesn’t want to hear something, he just refuses to hear it.

I had already packed up all my earthly belongings, the ones that matter anyway, and had them in the trunk of my car. Gregory hadn’t even noticed. I left all the expensive jewelry he had ever given me on my dresser. Jewelry was never important to me. I had told him time, and again I didn’t need it, didn’t want it. He just never heard me.

I was taking the last bite of my gourmet lunch. Oh, I forgot to mention that Gregory is a gourmet cook. On this particular day, Gregory had outdone himself. He had made a chilled Wild Pacific Confit Salmon with a Harissa Sauce, Quinoa & Arugula Salad, and fresh pears with Honey-Sea Salt Cornbread with Local Spiced Apple Butter. As I reflected on this lunch, I considered it my last meal with Gregory. And I have to admit I enjoyed that meal. It was delicious, and I would miss his cooking. It marked the end of an era in my life.

“Gregory, I have something to tell you.”

“Christine, please don’t spoil this day. You know I have been looking forward to this for a long time. And every time you preface a conversation with, “I have something to tell you.” I know I’m not going to like it. Can you just spare me the drama today? Let’s just have a nice day, can’t we?”

“I’m sorry Gregory. I’ve tried to tell you how I’ve been feeling many, many times. You just refuse to listen to me. So no, it can’t wait. I’m leaving you, Gregory. Today. This is our last meal together. I’m unhappy. I don’t want to be a cheerleader for you anymore. I care about you, I admire your intelligence, creativity, and ambition. But I have the desire to succeed and grow too. And there just doesn’t seem to be enough space in your life for me to do that.”

“What are you talking about? I never tried to stop you from anything you wanted to do, Christine.”

“Yes, you have Gregory. It’s not blatant. You didn’t say, No, I forbid you to do this or that. But you did discourage me from going back to get my Master’s degree. Because it was inconvenient timing. When I wanted to go to Europe for six months after I graduated. You said maybe later.”

“I never said no, I just said later, Christine.”

“Gregory, later never comes. I have all my belongings packed, I’ve rented a small apartment off-campus, I got a part-time job, and I’m going to get my Masters and my Ph.D. I don’t need your help. I’m sorry I’ll be missing your big dinner, but I’m sure you’ll have all the attention from your groupies that will more than make up for me not cheering you on. Although Gregory, I do wish you all the success in the world. Take care, Gregory. I’m going to be leaving now.”

And that’s when I noticed the expression on Gregory’s face changed from annoyance to anger. I never saw that expression on his face before. I hardly recognize him. He didn’t say another word to me. He just stared at me with what I can only say looked like hatred. I think it was the first time Gregory didn’t get what he wanted.

I moved into my apartment. I think it is what people called an efficiency apartment. In that, it was really just one big room with a tiny kitchen, a living room space, and an area next to the kitchen where I put my bed and bedside table. And there was a tiny bathroom with a shower, toilet, and sink. There was only one small closet. So, I had to leave most of my out-of-season clothing in storage. But it was mine, all mine. No one to tell where everything should be and what looked right and what didn’t. I loved every inch of that apartment because it was mine.

For the first several days, I didn’t hear from Gregory. Nothing. Nothing at all. I thought good, he is going to act like a grown man this time. He is just accepting that things have changed and moved on with his life, no drama, no theatrics.

But then, little things started happening. I didn’t think too much about it at the time. I just thought, “well, that’s weird.” And then I forgot about it. I received several hang-up calls on my cell phone. But I didn’t recognize the phone number. But that happens to everyone at one time or another, hang-ups.

Then about two weeks later, I started having accidents. I was going down the two flights of steps from my apartment to the street, and the steps were oddly slippery. The first time I fell down about six steps before I was able to grab the banister and stop myself from falling down all the way. I got up and quickly looked around because I thought someone might have seen me fall.

And then the next time I fell, it was because the banister came off in my hands when I went to grab it after I slipped on the steps. Not only did I fall down the flight of steps, but I nearly clobbered myself in the head when I made a grab for the banister and nearly hit myself in the head. After I managed to get myself up off the floor and dust myself off, I examined the banister it had been neatly sawed in two places and then put back in place. It was deliberate.

I called up the manager of the apartment building, and he apologizes and said he has no idea how such a thing could happen, but he’ll send the maintenance guy over to repair it today. And when I arrive home later that day, it had been replaced. The next couple of weeks flew by without any unexpected occurrences. So, I just put it down to bad luck and forgot about it.

I was working part-time in a restaurant that Gregory and I used to frequent. I was lucky to get a job here because it was a high-end place, and the tips were generous. And then, one night, as I was clearing one of the tables in my section, I noticed that Gregory had just come into the restaurant with a young woman that was so beautiful that even I could not take my eyes off of her. She was well over six feet tall and had long blond hair down to the middle of her back. She was wearing a dress that barely covered her ass. Her legs seemed to go on forever, and the front neckline was so low you could almost see her belly button.

I said a little prayer that they wouldn’t sit in my section. But, unfortunately, they did. After they were seated, I walk towards their table with menus and plastered a smile on my face. I walk slowly over to their table. I hand them their menus, smiled at them, and said,” good evening, hello, Gregory. So nice to see you. Can I get you a beverage or a drink while you look at the menus?”

“Hello, Christine, so nice to see you. So, this is the dream job?”

“No, this is a job that pays the rent while I finish my Master’s. Are you ready to give me your order, or would you like some time to study the menus for a bit?” I look at him and wish I could smack the smirk off his face. I just smile. His date doesn’t react at all. She obviously doesn’t know who I was and why he brought her to this particular restaurant.

After they finish their dinner, I walk over to their table. Would you like to look at the dessert menu or have a refill on your coffees? Gregory said, “what would you like to recommend?”

“Well, the lemon cake is delicious. I know you would enjoy that. And there’s a Raspberry-lemon mouse that is to die for.”

“Camella, what would you like?”

“Oh, I don’t know; they both sound delicious. I’ll get whatever you are getting, Gregory.”

“Gregory looks up at Christine and says, “you heard her. We’ll have Lemon cake. It has always been my favorite. And two coffees too. That will be all.”

Christine put on her biggest smile and says, “I’ll be back in a few moments.” And then she turns and walks away. There is no way she is going to let Gregory think he has the ability to upset her or make her jealous. She just doesn’t care one way or the other how he felt.

After Christine delivers the desserts, she says, “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, that will be all.” And he looks away from Christine and starts talking rapidly. His date’s eyes open wide with a surprised look on her face.

When Christine looks at the table, they had left. She finds a $5.00 tip on it. She picks it up and stuffs it in her apron pocket. Wow, he was really being a jerk.

About three weeks later, she receives a phone message. It sounds like an older man’s voice, and it seems familiar. “Good Morning. This is Dean Sheridan at Temple MS program of Science and Technology. I am trying to contact Christine Brown. Could you please call my office asap?”

Christine picks up the phone and looks at the phone number, and sees it was the Dean’s office. She calls him back and listens while the phone rings four times. She was about to hang up when finally, a male voice said,” Hello, this is Dean Sheridan. Can I help you?”

“Hello, Dean Sheridan. This is Christine Brown here, returning your call. What can I do for you?”

“Ms. Brown, I’m sorry, but I have some bad news for you. The benefactor that was providing the funding for the opening of the Master’s Program has pulled his funding. I’m so sorry. This happens sometimes. I’ve been trying to find contributions from some of our more generous alumni. But so far, no luck. I’m going to keep trying. However, I suggest you start applying to other universities asap, just in case. I’ll hand your call over to my assistant, and she will give you their contact information. Again, I’m so sorry to disappoint you. You would have been a great asset to our program. If you are able to secure funding somehow, please inform me. “

Christine felt crushed. She had worked so hard to get this far, and she couldn’t believe the rug was being pulled out from under her this late in the game. The classes were supposed to start in three weeks. It was too late to apply to other programs. She realizes she will have to start applying all over for next semester and seek scholarships or grants. There was no way she could afford it on a waitress’s pay. Maybe she could get a second job and save enough money to reapply next year. She feels a tear run down her cheek, but she quickly wipes it away. There is no way she’s going to start feeling sorry for herself. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, and she has a long road to travel before she reaches her goal.

About six months later, Christine receives a letter informing her that her building had been sold and she has to seek new housing and vacate her apartment by the end of the month. Christine just couldn’t believe the bad luck that had come her way in the last six months. It was so expensive to move and time-consuming. And she has to find another apartment that’s affordable. Which is no easy task. She calls all her friends to see if they know of any cheap apartments in the area. The last person she calls is her old friend, Sheila.

“Hello, Sheila, this is Christine. I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you in a while, but I’ve been working 24/7, trying to save money for my MS classes. First, I lost my scholarship and grants and my place in Temple’s MS program. And today, I received a letter stating that I had three weeks to move out of my apartment. My building is being sold. Anyway, I was wondering if you know of any cheaper apartments or even anyone looking for a roommate near Temple University? Oh, and how are you, my bad,”

“Hello Christine, yeah, I did hear through the grapevine that you really had a bad string of bad luck, I should have called, but you know how life gets in the way. No, I don’t know anyone, or any place for that matter. But why don’t you contact Gregory? His father owns a lot of residential property in the Temple University area near Broad Street. In fact, doesn’t he own the apartment building where your studio apartment is located?”

“What, I didn’t know that? Gregory never mentioned it. Oh, I knew they were wealthy. But I never really asked about where their money came from. It just didn’t interest me. I’ll have to look into that. Thanks for the info. I’ll let you know what happens. So, what have you been up to anyway?”

“Oh, same old, same old. I’m finishing up my dissertation. And after that, I’m taking a sabbatical and going to do some traveling before I start teaching. That is if all goes well with my dissertation.”

“Really, that’s amazing. I’m so proud of you. I know how hard you worked to get this far. You deserve every success.”

“Thank you, girlfriend. It’s been a long hard road, but I’m near the end. Please let me know if you find an apartment. You know you can count on me to help you move.”

After Christine hangs up, she starts thinking about the string of bad luck she had experienced in the last several months. And a lightbulb goes off in her head. It all started when she broke up with Gregory. And now she finds out that Gregory’s father owns the building she lives in. She decides to go to the library and find out if it was true that Gregory’s father owned her building. She didn’t want to believe that Gregory would be so mean-spirited as to cause her to become homeless.

After several hours of researching properties, she’s told by the librarian the best thing she can do is go to the county seat and look at their records to find out just who owned the apartment complex she lives in. And with the clerk’s help, she’s able to find out that it is Gregory’s father, Stewart Landers, does indeed own that building and several others in the Temple University area. Most of these are occupied by poor students who eke out a living as waiters and waitresses or nannies for rich people in the Society Hill area of Philadelphia.

Christine contacts Gregory’s father’s office and asks to speak to him. She identifies herself as a family friend. When He comes on the line, she says, “Hello, Mr. Landers. This is Christine Brown. I used to date your son, Gregory.”

“I know who you are, Ms. Brown. Gregory was brokenhearted when you broke up with him. We were all fond of you. And we hoped you and Gregory would marry. Mr. Landers, I’m sorry I hurt Gregory, but I wasn’t ready to get married. I wanted to finish school and get my MS. And then possibly go on to get my doctorate. And then I want to teach. I tried to tell you this to Gregory for a long time. But he didn’t want to hear about it.”

“Well, these things happen, and it looks like Gregory has moved on. He has been dating a beautiful young lady who just graduated at the top of her class from Sarah Lawrence. Perhaps a better fit than you two. No offense. So, what can I do for you? What’s this all about?

“I was just informed by my landlord that my building was being sold, and I had to move out.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. But what has that got to do with my family and me?”

“You own the building.”
“I do? Where is it?

“It is in downtown Philadelphia in the Temple University area. A great many students live there. I’m one of them, and I was just notified that I had to move out. It’s the Edge Student Village.”

“Oh, yes, that’s one of my buildings. I gave that building to Gregory as an investment for his future. He didn’t tell me he was going to sell it. I will contact him and see what I can do about this situation. Of course, if he already sold it, there isn’t much I can do about it. Of course, I could probably find other housing for you. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“I would appreciate that, and I’m really in a desperate situation I’m living day to day. I can’t really afford to move again so soon.”

Two days later, Gregory’s father calls Christine back and says, I talked to Gregory, and he said he hadn’t filed the final papers. He knew that was your building, and he wanted you to feel helpless. He thought you might come back to him if you had no place to go. I guess he is still in love with you.”

“Mr. Landers, if he really loved me, he wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to hurt me. He would want the best for me. He just wants to control me, and that is something I could never live with. I want Gregory to be happy, but I don’t think that, ultimately, we would have been happy together. We want completely different things in life.”

“Yes, I can see that. He is still a very young man and has a lot to learn about life yet. I’m sorry, he told me how angry he was at you and some other things he had done to get your attention. And for all of that, I apologize. Your building is not going to be sold. You can stay there until you are finished with your education. I hope you will forgive him and move on with your life. I have warned him to do the same.”

“Thank you so much for your help.”

“Good luck, young lady.”

Christine hangs up the phone with a sigh of relief. She fixes herself a cup of coffee and sits and down, and takes a deep breath. And at just that moment, the doorbell rings. Christine goes to the door and looks through the peephole, and sees an eye looking back at her. “Who’s there”

“I have a delivery for Christine Brown.”

Christine opens the door. And a young man stands there with a huge bouquet of long-stemmed yellow roses, her favorite. “Oh no”, she says.

She hands a dollar to the delivery man and takes the flowers. Inside there is a note that says, “All is forgiven. I’ll be over at 7:30 PM to take you out to eat at our favorite restaurant. Eternal love, Gregory.”

“Oh no, this is going to be much harder than I thought”, she says out loud. And then she closes the door and locks the two locks and the chain.

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EVERY ROSE GARDEN HAS ITS’ THORNS

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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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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?”

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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WRITE ON

Writer's Blog by Susan A. Culver

Category Archives: Fiction

WELCOME TO THE NEIGHBORHOOD

THE DAY WILL COME

TICK-TOCK, TICK TOCK

TODAY IS THE FIRST DAY OF THE REST OF YOUR LIFE

Unexpected Surprises Often Come in Small Packages

Revenge Is A Dish Best Served Cold

EVERY ROSE GARDEN HAS ITS’ THORNS

EMILY

Trash Can Fire

Aisling’s Umbrella