Category Archives: Fiction

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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CLASS REUNION

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

Temple University, main campus-Philadelphia, Pa

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you have kids Marilyn?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re kidding. Go on…….”

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Where There is Hope. There is Possibility

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

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

Road Trip

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, are you Liz Fortunato?”

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

“Harry, who are you talking about?”

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

“But what is Harry?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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DORA’S DAY GOES FROM BAD TO WORSE

SHOPPING DAY

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Produce Section

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stalking me, he was stalking me?”

“Yes, it certainly appears that way.”

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

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

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

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LATE NIGHT WHISTLE

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I often lie in bed late at night, listening for the train whistle and the rumbling of the train as it goes by. I rent a run-down row house just on the other side of the train tracks. Some people think the sound of a train whistle is lonely. But I don’t. I love that sound. It captured my imagination years ago. Reminding me of all the places that I would love to see, in all those mysterious and exotic countries I’ve read about throughout my life.

Train tracks by Larisa Koshima

As I wait for sleep to take me, my last thought is that nothing is keeping me here in this dead-end town. I could be a waitress anywhere. I’m a damn good waitress.

I wake up at 6:45 am one minute before the alarm goes off, as always. I serve the early risers during the week. I know them all by their first names. It feels as if I’ve been waiting on them all my life.

But it’s only been five years. Five years. Five years of pouring cup after cup of coffee. Listening to the same conversations. Smelling the same smells burnt toast and greasy fried eggs. Filling the salt and pepper shakers and sugar bowls. And wiping down the same tables.

I smile and say,” have a great day.” as they go out the door. Knowing I’ll be saying the same thing tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that.

I slowly rise out of my bed and slide my legs over the side of the bed. I sigh and take a deep breath. I take a quick shower and pull on my uniform. I grab my purse and a light jacket and head out my door. And walk down Main Street in towards The Painted Grill, the restaurant where I wait tables. I walk right past the restaurant. I see Charlie heating the grill. I stare with longing at the train station. I keep walking down the street, not sure at first where I’m going. I find myself standing at the counter at the train station.

“How far will two hundred dollars take me?” I ask the station master.

“Well, you can take this train into Raleigh and then switch onto the express there, and take the express train all the way to New York. From there, you can go to any port of call.

“I’ll take one ticket.”

“Go over to track D, and the train should be pulling up in the next couple of minutes. Here’s your ticket.”

After a few minutes of standing in the steaming hot morning air, I spy the train in the distance. My heart starts beating faster. I hear the whistle. And the train pulls up with a screech, and the doors hiss as they open up. I step up and walk to the back seat and sit down. I hear the air rush out of the seat. I take deep breaths and watch as people come in and sit down.

The train whistles and starts up again. I look out the window, and I let out a breath that I didn’t know I was holding. I feel an unfamiliar feeling, and then I realize that I’m smiling. I know that this is the first day of the rest of my life. I keep smiling.

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Fate Steps in One More Time

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, actually, it can.”

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

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

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

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

“Oh, you always took everything so seriously. “

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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THE HOWLING

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

Photo by David Mark-Pixabay

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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The Whistleblower

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

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

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

Italian Restaurant

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you, mam?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, that would be perfect, Kyle.”

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

“Of course, coming right up, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“OK, here it goes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shall we go?”

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

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Sweet Dreams

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

Insomnia photo by Dieter Robbins-Pixabay

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feeling alright, why do you say that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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WRITE ON

Writer's Blog by Susan A. Culver

Category Archives: Fiction

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THE HOWLING

The Whistleblower

Sweet Dreams