Category Archives: Fiction

Endgame

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He unfolds himself from the driver’s seat of his ancient Peugeot. It used to be Cherry Red but little remains of the original paint. As he stands up, he rubs the small of his back and slams the door closed. It hasn’t shut properly since he was side-swiped in a motel parking lot last month.  

The sign, Rooms for Rent, by the day or the week in the front of the hotel blinks over and over again. “Just another day in paradise.” He mumbles to himself. As he walks through the hotel door, the bell jingles once and then falls to the dirty cement.

Jorge yanks out his wallet and looks for his credit card. He glances at the worn photo of his former wife and dated pictures of his children, Mike and Flossie. He wonders if he‘ll ever see them again. And then he slaps his credit card down on the chipped and faded counter and says, “A single for the night in the back.”

The hotel clerk takes the credit card without looking up and runs it through the credit card machine. “Sorry buddy but this card has been declined. Do you have another one?”

Jorge rubs his hand across his unshaven face and sighs deeply. He rummages through his wallet and finds his backup credit card. The one he only used for emergencies like this. When he hadn’t made a payment on his credit card recently. He sighs and shoves the card in the desk clerk’s general direction.

“Room 33 just make a left out of the door and around the back. Checkout is at eleven AM. There are towels in the room. If you need anything else just let me know. Then he dismisses Jorge by blinking his eyes slowly and goes back to reading a cheap paperback novel called Endgame.

Jorge yanks open his car door and gets in and moans. “Shit, shit, shit. my back is killing me. He pictures himself lying in a deep and luxurious tub with hot water jets spraying him in every direction. As he parks in front of the room, he notices that the number on his room is askew. Not a good sign. He painfully extracts himself from the car and goes to the trunk and heaves out his suitcase. Which is held closed by an old belt. He walks up to the door and slides the key card into the slot. It doesn’t work the first time or the second. But the third time is the charm.

As Jorge enters the room, he realizes any fantasy he has about soaking in a luxurious tub is just not going to pan out. He plops his suitcase down on the bed and walks toward the bathroom. He stands in the doorway. He feels his last hope disappear and depression sets in.

Instead of a tub, he stands before what looks like a coffin standing on end. The plastic shower curtain doesn’t quite reach across the width of the shower coffin. The tile floor is cracked and stained. The showerhead is minuscule. There are two towels. He puts one on the floor outside the shower. The other one has a large yellow stain in the middle. He tosses it across the closed toilet.

Jorge yanks off his clothes and shakes them out. He hangs them on a metal rod that’s sticking out of the wall across from the bathroom. He paces his shoes under what he guesses is the table. A rough piece of lumber nailed to the wall. He has been in quite a few shitholes recently but this one is going to set the standard to a new low.

As he steps into the shower and turns on the water, it trickles out slowly and wheezes, and then spits out a reddish-brown residue that smells like sulfur. Jorge opens the hot water spigot all the way up. Then the water comes out in spurts and finally lukewarm and less acrid smelling. And that’s where it remains. Jorge often uses his time bathing to consider how his life is going. And if he should consider going on at all.

Today is one of those days when he doesn’t know if it’s worth going on any longer. He can’t remember the last time anything went his way. He’s afraid he’s will be unemployed in the very near future. He hasn’t made any sales in over a month. He sells large construction and landscaping equipment. Mostly, he has been selling used lawn equipment.

The main problem was Jorge just didn’t give a good god damn about lawn equipment or construction equipment for that matter. He can’t fake it anymore. He really needs to find a new line of work. But he didn’t even have the energy to consider what in the hell he could do.  He just doesn’t have the where with all to do much of anything. Jorge is winding down like an old watch. In fact, Jorge is running out of time.

He realizes that the water is running cold, and he turns the spigot, and it falls off. Surely, this is another bad sign. He steps out of the shower and grabs the stained towel and attempts to dry off with what amounts to a dirty paper towel.

Jorge is so exhausted that he just yanks on his underwear and throws himself across the bed. And falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

There is a blinding light, someone is parking in front of his room. He quickly jumps off the bed to double-step it to the window to close the curtains. He attempts to pull them shut. He tugs them so hard that one of the curtains comes off in his hand.

He is immobilized for a few moments trying to decide what he should do next. The answer comes when he hears his stomach growling angrily. Time for lunch. He heads to the bathroom and throws his somewhat wrinkled and slightly dirty clothes back on.

He gets back into his car and decides to stop at the first restaurant he sees. He is beginning to give up hope when he sees a sign which says in big letters, EATS, GOOD EATS.

“Well, that’s good enough for me.” He parks in front of the entrance. He looks in the picture window. There’s quite a crowd. He steps out of the car and slams the door shut.  Then he pushes open the restaurant door, it bangs closed behind him. He can hear Elvis singing Jailhouse Rock. He likes this place already. One of the waitresses yells out shrilly, “If you can find a seat, take it.”

Jorge scans the room from one section of the restaurant to the other. He notices a small, unoccupied table. He double-times it over there and plops down. He immediately regrets it because it sends a searing pain up his spine. A waitress with a beehive hairstyle and deep red lipstick stops at his table and flings a menu onto it. “Be back in five. Take a gander.”

Five minutes later, she’s back at his table. “Yeah, so what can I do you for?”

“I’ll take a hamburger, rare with all the works. And some spicy fries, no veggies, and a cup of coffee, hot. Thanks.” As he waits, he looks around at the locals. Usually, these kinds of places are filled with truck drivers, but not this one. It looks like dinnertime at the old people’s home. He can’t see a single customer here who is under sixty-five. It’s weird. For the first time in years, he feels young. A smile creeps across his face. It’s an unfamiliar feeling. It makes his cheeks hurt a little. But it’s a good hurt. Maybe he is in the Twilight Zone or something.

The waitress brings his dinner and a large carafe of coffee. “Enjoy.” She turns to go, and he says, “Hey, wait a minute, are you having some kind of meeting for old people? I mean seniors or something?”

“What, no? What are you talking about? Just give me a yell if you need something else?” Jorge shakes his head. Just as he’s about to take his first bite of the huge and greasy hamburger, he hears someone pulling out the chair across from him. He looks up and sees a young woman sitting across from him. Now he knows he’s in the Twilight Zone.

“Hello, I hope you don’t mind, but this is the only empty seat in the restaurant and I’m starved.”

“Mind, no. No, I don’t mind at all. Glad for the company.” He gapes across the table at her. She has purple hair. One side hangs down to her shoulders. The other side is shaved and has a Celtic knot tattooed on it. She has piercings through her nose, lip, and eyebrow. Her right ear has a large safety pin in it with a silver eye with a sapphire dangling from it. There’s a tattoo on her bare shoulder. It’s a dragon, and it continues down her arm. It’s purple and yellow. There are three tattooed stars down the middle of her chin. Jorge can’t stop staring.

“Well, this is the first restaurant I found in the last twenty miles. Hey, what’s with all the geezers?”

“Well, I think I’m going to get a chili cheese dog with French fries.”

Jorge gulps and thinks, this is the woman I’m going to marry.

“My name is Jorge, and you are?”

“My name? Oh yeah, sure, well, my friends all call me Lenny, but my real name is Lenore. I have a thing for Lenny Kravitz. Do you know who he is?

“Lenny Kravitz, hell yeah. But that goes back about twenty years. You must have been a kid then.”

“Yeah, I was a kid, but my big brothers listened to him. My favorite cut is. Fly Away. Do you know that one?”

“You’re damn right I do. I want to get away. I want to fly away. Yeah, Yeah, Yeah. My favorite is Let’s go and see the stars, the Milky Way, or even Mars, where it could just be ours.”

The waitress comes over to their table and says,” Sorry for taking so long, but we are really getting slammed today. Although it’s always busy here. We’re the only restaurant for about twenty miles.  What can I get for you?”

“Could I get a large order of spicy fries and a chili dog? And a coke, thanks.”

“Coming right up.”

“So, how did you end up here in Podunk? Did your car break down or what?”

“No, Lenny believe it or not, I’m a traveling salesman. I sell commercial lawnmowers and construction equipment. But I’m thinking about changing my jobs. I kind of burned out on lawnmowers and traveling. If you know what I mean. How about you? What are you doing out in the middle of nowhere?”

“Traveling Salesman, wow, like Death of A Salesman with Dustin Hoffman?”

Jorge looks over at Lenny and stares momentarily. And shakes his head. He thinks she really has me pegged. His stomach clenches up. “What, I don’t think I ever heard of that before. Sorry.”

“Oh excellent, here comes my food. I haven’t eaten since yesterday at lunch.”

“Here you go, honey, enjoy.”

Lenny doesn’t say another word until she is finished eating. She has all but inhaled the food. And then she sucks down the coke. Jorge doesn’t know if he should be disgusted or impressed. He’s never seen a woman eat that much or that fast before. He decides to be impressed.

“How did you end up here, Lenny?

“Well, like I said, I was looking for a restaurant.”

“Do you have a destination, or are you just on a road trip?”

“Well, Jorge, I guess you could say that it is an unplanned road trip. My old man got up on the wrong side of the bed one night and decided to rearrange some of our furniture. And then he got that look in his eyes like my face was the next thing on his list that he wanted to rearrange. He’s done it before. And I just decided I had enough of his crap and grabbed some of my stuff, and took off. I hitched my way here.”

“So, where are you headed?”

“No idea, just as far away as possible from the shithole I just left.”

“Hey, how about a dessert, my treat.”

Jorge motions to the waitress to come over. “Yes, we would like to get a couple of desserts. What do you have?”

“Well, let’s see, we have apple pie, or we have apple pie. What would you like? Jorge looks at Lennie and winks. “Let me think. I believe we will each have a large slice of that apple pie you mentioned.”

As the waitress walks across the room, Lennie says, “quite the charmer, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, she really has that Southern charm down.”

“I really enjoyed having your company at dinner. I usually eat alone when I’m traveling for my job. It gets kind of lonely.”

“Thanks, Jorge. It was nice meeting you. Maybe we’ll meet again someday. Take care.”

They parted ways outside the restaurant door. Jorge climbs into his car and looks in the direction Lennie walked toward. “Shit, my first opportunity, and I blow it.” Jorge turns the key in his ignition and revs up the engine, and flies down the street. He almost misses Lenny standing on the corner with her thumb out.

Jorge pulls over to the curb and says, “How about a ride? You mentioned that you didn’t have any destination in mind?”

Lennie stares at him and looks up and down the street. There are no other cars on the road. “Sure, why the hell not? Where are you headed anyway?”

“My first stop is Raleigh, NC. It’s a little over four hours from here, give or take. I have an appointment to talk to a dealer who’s considering buying some of my company’s used mowers. Hopefully, this will be a big sale because I only get a small draw. I live on my commissions.”

“Gotcha. I think I’m going to take a nap. Wake me up when we get there.”

The drive from Charleston, SC, to Raleigh, NC, was a quiet one. Jorge’s imagination, however, is in overdrive. He keeps glancing over at the sleeping Lenny. She’s snoring loudly. Her mouth is wide open. Spittle is dripping down the side of her face. Still, Jorge finds her irresistible. He can’t put his finger on just what attracts him. Nevertheless, he feels that pull. He knows from his past experience that every time he feels this way towards a woman, disaster is on its way. It never failed. Most likely, she would turn out to be a pill-popping maniac or a female serial killer. He has no doubt. He’s attracted to sociopaths.

As Jorge pulls off the highway I 85 onto Discovery Drive. He sees a sign for J.P. Palm Inc. Large Equipment Sales and Rental.  He pulls in. He looks over at Lenny, and she’s still sound asleep. He doesn’t want her to wake up and not know where he went. “Lenny, wake up. We’re here, and I have to go in and talk to the sales manager. Lenny, wake up.” Nothing. He gives her shoulder a little shove and then a slightly harder one. He calls out loudly, “Lenny, wake up.” Nothing. He decides to write a note and tell her he’ll be right back. He puts the note under the passenger side sun visor.

Jorge yanks the door open and walks over to the counter, and hands him his business card. “Hello, my name is Jorge Keppel. I have an appointment with the purchasing manager. Is he available?

“Yeah, sure, hold on, I’ll buzz you in.”

Jorge walks through the door and sees a long hallway with five identical doors. He walks down the hall until he finds one that is labeled Harry Enright, purchasing manager. Jorge knocks and is greeted by a gruff, “come in already.”

“Hello, I’m Jorge Keppel. I represent Snyder and Sons Equipment out of Charlotte.”

“Yeah, I remember. What can I do for you?”

“Yes, we spoke on the phone, and you said you might be interested in some of our products. I emailed you with the specs of some of our equipment.”

“Oh yeah, yeah, sorry, it’s been one of those days. I meant to contact you before you came all the way out here. But my boss just informed me yesterday that he purchased the equipment at a reduced price. While he was at a meeting with another company. And we won’t be buying any further equipment until after the fiscal new year. Sorry for the trouble. I got busy and didn’t get around to calling you.”

Jorge stares at him momentarily and has to swallow his anger. “Oh, well, that is unfortunate. I hope you will keep my company in mind. Please contact me if I can assist you in any way. Jorge turns and opens the door. He feels like his head is going to explode. As he walks back down the hall, it seems a mile long. He thinks he’ll never get to the end. He keeps mumbling, shit, shit, shit.”  He walks out past the counter and out the door, never to return.

When Jorge looks into his car’s front seat. He doesn’t see Lenny sleeping or awake. He looks in the back seat. Nada. “Crap, crap, crap, I give up. Just when you think it can’t get any worse than this, it does. Dammit.” Jorge looks up and down the street and doesn’t see a living soul. Across the street, he sees a bar that has seen better days. “Well, it can’t hurt to go and have a look in there.”

He walks across the street and into the bar. It’s empty save for a lone customer who is passed out and has his head on the bar. And the bartender doesn’t look that sober, either. “Hey, did a young woman with tattoos come in here in the past twenty minutes or so?”

“Nope, I would have remembered her. Just Old Charlie here. He’s my best customer this time of day, sorry.”

As Jorge steps outside, he sees Lenny getting into a car that must have just pulled over while he was in the bar looking for her. “Shit, shit, shit.”

He considers yelling out to her, but what’s the point, he thinks? The car pulls out so quickly that the tires spin in the loose gravel. And just like that, Lenny leaves his life just as unexpectedly as she arrived. If he weren’t so accustomed to disappointment, he would get depressed. As it was, he was already there, so he just sighed and put the car into drive, and headed toward his next destination Fayetteville. It would be a lonely two-and-a-half-hour trip.

Jorge was accustomed to being lonely. It’s his normal state of mind. About halfway to Fayetteville, he decides to stop at the next gas station and fill up. As he pulls off the main road from the ramp, he notices a car parked on the emergency shoulder. The only reason it gets his attention is that he sees a lot of frantic movement in the back seat. And then the back door flies open, and a young woman shoots out and takes off on foot.

He watches the woman, and then he realizes that the woman is none other than his Lenny. Jorge sees a somewhat rotund man attempting to catch her on foot. But with little success since he didn’t seem to be in any sort of physical shape to run anywhere. Jorge charges at him with his car and no doubt put the fear of god into him. As the fat man jumps back onto the shoulder of the road, he rolls and struggles onto his feet again and into his vehicle.

Jorge continues down the road toward Lenny. He begins beeping his car horn. Lenny turns her head momentarily in his direction. And apparently assumes he is a fat boy. Jorge sticks his head out the driver’s side window and starts shouting,” Lenny, Lenny, Lenny, it’s me, Jorge, stop. Stop, Lenny, it’s me.”

At this point, Lenny realizes it’s him, and so Jorge slows up and pulls onto the shoulder in front of her. He opens the passenger’s side door, and she all but falls onto the back seat. “Christ, it’s about time you showed up. What took you so long? I almost got raped. Holy shit.”

“It’s about time I showed up. What is that supposed to mean? Why did you get into a car with a stranger? Why didn’t you wait for me? I wasn’t even gone that long? You are lucky I was headed in this direction, or I wouldn’t even be here now to save your ass.”

“A stranger? You are just as much a stranger as that guy. I don’t really know you either. And I didn’t know how long you had been gone. I was asleep.”

“Well, I, for one, I didn’t try to rape you, did I? You’re little nuts. Do you know that? Do you want to come with me or not? I can find a bus stop somewhere around here, or you can go hitch. Which, by the way, is getting into cars with strangers? And you told me you do that all the time.”

“I’m on my way to Fayetteville, and since you’re in my car, you are too. Unless you want to get out along the way somewhere, just let me know.”

“Yeah, I will, don’t worry. I think I’m going to take a nap now. Don’t get any funny ideas.”

“Yeah, right, thanks for the vote of confidence. We’ll be there in less than three hours. I’ll wake you when we get to our destination. I don’t want a repeat of your last performance. I’ll be in and out in a half-hour. Then we can get something to eat. Is that all right with your highness?”

Lenny was already asleep when he asked her the last question. But what the hell? He had the satisfaction of saying it anyway. Jorge turns on some tunes to keep him company on the drive. Lenny is already snoring and drooling. She sure wasn’t any sleeping beauty. But he still had to admire her spirit.

Jorge is making a great time, and he will be at the exit for Route 87 in about fifteen minutes. And Manito Construction Company was only about ten minutes from there. He wishes himself luck and mentally crosses his fingers and his toes. He needs a win badly. Otherwise, he will definitely be looking for employment when he gets back home. He glances over at Lennie, and he can see she’s still breathing but other than that no signs of life. She isn’t proving to be much company on the road. Since it seems being in a car puts her to sleep like a newborn baby.

As he pulls into the parking lot of Manito Construction, he considers his tactic for selling some top-of-the-line equipment to James Rathgeb, the Parts and Equipment guy at this division office. Jorge decides it’s time to wake up Lenny to prevent another unpleasant outcome. “Hey Lenny, wake up. We’re here. No response. “Hey, Lenny, wake the hell up. We’re here.”

“Here, where’s here?”

“We are at my next stop. Wake up. Stay in the car if you want to keep riding with me. I don’t want a repeat of the last experience anytime soon. I won’t be that long. Then we can get some food. Do you understand? Stay in the car? I’ll be back in a few.”

Lenny watches as he walks through the front door and talks to the guy at the counter, and then disappears through what she supposes must be a door.

Jorge walks through and looks for the parts and Equipment department. He sees it on the left and briefly knocks and walks in after hearing someone with a gravelly voice say, “Yeah, what?”

“Hello, I’m Jorge Gutierrez. I called earlier about talking to you about some used equipment my company has for sale. Jorge hands him his business card. I was told that you were having difficulty finding equipment at your local dealer. As it turns out, we have two 2016 CATERPILLAR 289D available with the front-loading tree grinding head if you need it. Here’s the information and the price. We can get to you by end of the week if need be.”

The manager looks at the schematic and the price and stands up and says,” Ok, if you can give me a discount for buying both, we have a deal.”

Jorge is so happy he feels like doing a jig. But controls himself and just nods,” yeah, I think we can do that.  I’ll fax you a copy of the details and give you a delivery date when I get back to my office tomorrow. If I can help you in the future, just give me a buzz on my cell.”

Jorge shakes his hand and walks out of the office into the vestibule and out the door. He is smiling from ear to ear. Finally, the worm has turned. It’s the first good luck he has had in six months. Calls for a celebration.

Jorge looks in the car window, and Lenny is asleep in the back seat. He pulls the door open and sits in the driver’s seat. He checks his cell to see what time it is. His stomach tells him it’s dinner time. “Hey, Lenny, wake up. It’s time to go. Jorge leans over and yells, “Get up. It’s time to get up. It’s time to go.”

Nothing, she’s still sound asleep. Jorge gets out of the car and goes around to the back door, and opens it. He leans in and gives her a shake. Nothing. He shakes her again. One eye opens, then the other. She moans, and her eyes roll back in her head. “Lenny, please wake up. Are you all right?

Lenny opens her eyes and asks, “What the hell is going on? I told you no funny stuff.”

“Funny stuff, I thought you were dead or overdosed or something.”

“Oh, well, I haven’t slept in a couple of days, what with my old man and all. And then I was hitchhiking. I’m just tired, is all. Calm down. Caffeine, that’s all I need, caffeine.”

“Look, Lenny, I’m finished with my business here. I’m going to check into a hotel for the night, get a shower and go out to dinner. As he was about to start the car, Jorge’s cell started ringing. He looks at the number, and he could have sworn that it was his old phone number. From when he was still married.

“Hello, Jorge Gutierrez here. Can I help you?”

“Jorge, this is Malory. I need you to come home to see your children. They haven’t seen you or gotten more than a Christmas or birthday card from you in almost two years. Mikey’s been getting into some trouble in school. And Flossie has been skipping school. They need a father in their life, Jorge. And that’s you whether you like it or not. When can you come here?”

Jorge doesn’t answer right away. It never occurred to him that his kids missed him or needed him. He hadn’t been much of a dad to them. He was always on the road and didn’t see them that often. And when he was home, he slept most of the time or watched sports. And then he pictures his kids the last time he saw them. They were standing in the driveway, crying. His wife told him,” if you feel that way, then just leave. We don’t need you.” The kids were calling out, “Daddy, daddy, don’t go. We’ll be good.”

“Put them on the phone, Malory, please.”

“Dad, is it really you? Are you coming home? Me and Mikey really miss you. Please come home.”

“Hi Mikey, I miss you too. I thought you and Flossie would be better off without me. I guess I was wrong. I’ll come home this weekend to see you guys. I really missed you too. Put your mom back on, please.”

“Malory, I’ll be there this weekend, late Saturday afternoon. Is that alright?”

“Yes, we will be looking forward to seeing you. We missed you, Jorge. We all do.”

“I’ll see you then, Malory. I’ll give you a call when I am about a half-hour away. See you Saturday, bye.”

Jorge looks in the back seat. He has completely forgotten that Lenny was back there. As he looks at her, he realizes that he really didn’t have anything in common with her. And really, she’s a stranger. He had just been getting desperate. “Lenny, that was my wife, I mean my former wife. I have to go home. My kids need me. So, let’s go get that meal, and then I will have to be on my way. If you still want a lift, I can take you anywhere you want to go along the way.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. It makes no diff to me. Wake me when we get to the restaurant.”

Jorge starts the car and puts it into gear. It occurs to him that today was the first day of the rest of his life. And a smile appears on his face, and it stays there.

 

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DAY ONE

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It was the first day of my new job. Would there never be an end to the first days? I have bad luck. Things never work out for me. It seems as if each position is one rung lower on the ladder of success. I’ve decided to do my very best at this job. Perhaps I’ll be able to move up the ladder instead of down. We’ll see, hope springs eternal.

Elementary School Cafeteria

Elementary School Cafeteria

I walk into the front door of the school to the principal’s office. I had come here for the initial interview, so I know the basic layout of the building. I studied the building map all last night as well. So, I feel pretty confident that there won’t be any problem.

In the past, I have had trouble with buildings like this, long narrow hallways with rooms jutting off in every direction. Everything looks the same. I would get lost in the maze of hallways and look-alike rooms. God, why is everything the same color? Oh, wait there’s the sign for the principal’s office. I’m fine.

I walk up to the long narrow reception desk only to discover that there’s a swarm of people ahead of me. Oh no, this won’t do. I can’t be late. That will set off a chain reaction for me that could only end in disaster.

“Hello, hello, miss. Can you tell me where I should go? It’s my first day working here. Am I supposed to speak to the principal or go directly to the cafeteria?”

No response, apparently this incompetent woman is unable to discern the importance of my question. And she is allowing all these bungling baboons to take her attention away from me. I push my way past two of the teachers and speak in a stern voice. “I said, can you please tell me where I’m supposed to report. It’s my first day working in the cafeteria?”

“What’s your name? Can’t you see I’m busy, and all these people were ahead of you?”

“Of course, I can see that. I’m not blind. Just tell me where I’m supposed to go and I’ll be on my way. Even you must be able to understand such a simple dilemma.”

” Go directly to the cafeteria, and speak to the supervisor, Ms. Nolan. She’ll tell you what to do. Do you know where the cafeteria is? If not, there is a map of the school on the wall.”

“Of course, I know where it is. What kind of fool do you take me for?”

She isn’t listening anymore. So, I head out of the office and down the hall in the direction I think the cafeteria is located. Unfortunately, I‘m wrong, and end up in the gym. I find the janitor sweeping the floor. He tells me how to get to the cafeteria. I’m starting to feel a bit flustered. By the time I arrive at the cafeteria I’m ten minutes late. Stupid, stupid bureaucracy, this is how it always turns out.

I rushed into the kitchen and asked a gray-haired old cow, where is Ms. Nolan?”

“Oh, so you’re the new worker, she’s not going to be happy about you being late. She’s a stickler for being on time. She told me to get you started on the breakfast trays. I’ll show you how it’s done. You’ll be fine. Let’s go this way. I’m Nancy by the way. We’ll be working together. ”

“Ok, Nancy I’m sure. You will only need to show me once. I’m a quick learner.”

Nancy shows me where everything is. And I start setting up the trays. Easy peasy. I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do and I don’t see Nancy anywhere. So, I start looking around the kitchen and the pantry, and the freezer. After looking around, I decided that things need to be organized.

I start in the pantry with dry goods. I check the expiration dates on all the cans and put all the oldest ones in front. I put canned fruit together, canned tuna, etc. I was working up quite a sweat. I even cleaned off all the shelves and the tops of the cans. I take a step back and look at my handiwork. I‘m quite proud of myself. I‘m sure Ms. Nolan will be quite impressed. Where is she anyway?

I stroll out into the cafeteria to look for her, and what’s her name, Nancy.

“Where have you been? Ms. Nolan is fit to be tied? The early breakfast kids have already come and gone. Ms. Nolan had to help. You are really up Shit’s creek. She hates waiting on the kids. She hates to come out of her office altogether. Jeez, I wouldn’t want to be you. You better double step it into her office right now. It’s that door over there.”

I walk over to the office and knock confidently at the door. I’m sure Ms. Nolan will understand that I was using my time efficiently since no one had told me to do otherwise. I’m sure she’ll appreciate my efforts in putting things to right.

“Come in, come in. Oh, it’s you. Where in the hell have you been? Nancy tells me you were late, and then you disappear altogether.”

“Well I appreciate your concern, but I finished the breakfast trays, and then I reorganized the pantry. Nancy didn’t tell me that I was supposed to serve them as well. Would you like to see the pantry? I’m sure you will appreciate the changes I’ve made.”

“Changes, who said you were allowed to make changes? I have been working in this school system cafeteria for thirty years. I set up the entire kitchen, pantry, and schedule. You had no business changing anything. Don’t ever again take it upon yourself to change our system. It works very well. Do you understand?”

“Understand, yes, but I think you’ll see how much improved it is now. If you would take a moment to look.”

‘”Think, who told you to think? You do as you’re told. Now go back to the kitchen. Nancy will show you the meal schedules and how to use the cash register system. That’s all, good day. I hope I will have no further problems with you.”

I back out of the office. I‘m shocked. I can tell you. Why the unmitigated gall of that little tyrant telling me that I wasn’t there to think. What does she think I’m some kind of automaton?

I walk briskly over to Nancy. She has a self-satisfied expression on her face. I have to use all my self-control to keep from wiping that expression off her face with the back of my hand. I get myself under control and say, “sorry for any trouble. It won’t happen again. Ms. Nolan asked if you‘ll show me the meal schedules and how to use the register system.”

“Right, right, let’s do that. It’s quite simple. We have the same breakfast every day; the lunches are on a rotating schedule. You’ll see.”

Nancy shows me the lunch schedule. Then she demonstrates the cash register to me. It doesn’t use cash at all. Each student has an ID card, which they swipe. And the cost of the meal is deducted from their account. Some kids have state-subsidized lunches, and they have a different kind of card.

When I look at the lunch menu, I think it can use updating. There’s only fast food and junk food. Shouldn’t the children be eating healthier foods?

“Nancy, what do you think about changing up the food menu? We can probably create healthier foods, and it would save money?”

“What are you crazy? Didn’t Ms. Nolan tell you that she set up this kitchen, the menu, and the budget? She will have your head if you change anything. You just got started here. Do you want to lose your job on the first day?”

“No, of course not. But I like to do the very best I can do at whatever I do. I think tonight I’ll make up a new menu and present it to Ms. Nolan tomorrow.”

“You’re out of your mind. But do what you want, many have come and gone before you. And I’m still here, and so is Ms. Nolan.”

The next morning, I walk through the school double doors full of optimism. I feel quite pleased with myself. Ms. Nolan will be so appreciative of my efforts. She’ll realize the meals are healthy and tasty and she can save money at the same time. I’m sure this is the perfect job for me. I walk through the cafeteria to the kitchen and over to Ms. Nolan’s office.

Nancy calls out, “Wait, where are you going? You are supposed to be helping me set up the breakfast trays.”

I nod at Nancy and rap sharply on Ms. Nolan’s door. It rattles. “Whose there? I’m on the phone. Come in, come in.”

I walk over to Ms. Nolan’s desk and hand her the new menus. I have a broad smile across my face.

Ms. Nolan says into her phone, “yes, I’ll take care of that right away.” She snaps the phone shut. “What is it? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Of course, I’ll only take a minute. I made up these new menus for the children’s lunches. I think you’ll find that they are quite an improvement over what you are using now. They’re nutritious, a good value, and easy to prepare.”

Ms. Nolan’s face turns bright red. She fairly rips the papers out of my hands. And without a how do you do, she tears the papers into shreds.

“This is what I think of your menus. I told you yesterday that this is my kitchen. You were to do as you are told, nothing more and nothing less. Now you can finish out the week, and then you are out of here.”

We’re a team, and I’m the head. You’re not a team worker. You’ll get your pay at the end of the week, and then you are out of here.

I’m so shocked that I turn on my heels and walk back to the kitchen and next to Nancy. I start preparing the trays for breakfast. I don’t look to the right or left. I can feel Nancy staring at me. But I don’t give her the satisfaction of saying anything.

“Well I tried to warn you, but you just wouldn’t listen.”

At the end of the week, I finish my shift and walk out the door, never to return. Things just never worked out for me. Everyone is always out to get me. I have bad luck. There’s nothing I can do about it. I keep saying these things over and over in my head like a mantra all the way home. Now I‘ll have to start looking for a new job. I‘ll have to try harder, that’s all. That’s all anybody can do.

And The Winner Is

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It’s early Saturday morning and my doorbell rings four times. Before I can answer the door, they knock several times using my new brass doorknocker, two Eskimos rubbing noses. I found it in an antique store in Philadelphia called Antiques R Us. I know that’s tacky but they have some really cool stuff in there.

I trip over my cat Sloopy in my rush to get to the door. Sloopy is trying to escape. He’s terrified of both the doorbell and knocking at the door. I step up to the door out of breath and a bit worse for wear. I see a UPS man standing there. He has his middle finger pressed firmly against the doorbell.

I flash him the universal signal for knock it off, a hand across the throat through the window in the door. I fumble around looking for the key to the front door. It’s in the top drawer of the desk next to the door.

I yank the door so energetically that I nearly rip the door off the hinges. “Hey, you can stop ringing the doorbell. What in god’s name is your problem? Couldn’t you just toss the package on the porch like you usually do?”

The man sneers at me. You probably don’t really know what that means until somebody actually directs that look at you. “I haven’t got all day lady. Can you please sign this?”

He hands me the electronic signature thingy. I sign it. My signature looks like Sanskrit or something. He thrust a heavy white envelope into my hand. He does an about-face and walks down the sidewalk and propels himself into his truck. He pulls out without even checking for traffic coming in his direction. Maniac.

I close the door and look at the envelope. I don’t recognize the return address. It looks like a wedding invitation. Good god, almighty is it possible that I’m being invited to yet another of my college friends’ second-time-around weddings? This will make the sixth one in two years. I don’t think anyone should expect their friends to go to another wedding and give another expensive gift for a marriage that probably won’t last until the second anniversary.

I tear open the envelope. Surprise it isn’t a wedding invitation. It’s an invitation to a Scavenger Hunt. Seriously a Scavenger Hunt, who am I Katherine Heyburn? Where’s my Cary Grant? I look at the invitation for the who, what, and where of it all. It’s from a mysterious someone who is an associate of my investment broker Bill Holden. It’s scheduled for December 31st, 2019 in New York City, from 8 pm until midnight.

Are they kidding New Year’s Eve in New York City? I throw the invitation down on the coffee table. I walk back to the kitchen to finish eating my now soggy Captain Crunch cereal. I sip my lukewarm tea.

I idly tap my spoon against the table. I imagine myself dressed to kill, wearing my to-die-for black fur-lined cape. It has a hand-embroidered trim with golden bumblebees. I haven’t really had an opportunity to wear it yet. New Year’s Eve would be the perfect occasion to make its debut.

Well, why not? It could be a wonderful adventure. I’ll use the limo service the invitation listed. I can drink champagne and eat caviar. Well, maybe not caviar. I hate it but definitely drink champagne.

I walk back to the living room and pick up the invitation and take it back into the kitchen with me. I read it over several times. There’s a contact email to RSVP. That’s kind of odd, but it’s the digital age. I walk over to my computer and boot it up. and send my RSVP to the email address.

I’m busy all day Saturday doing errands. I had to take some of my business suits to the dry cleaners and then I have my nails done and highlights added to my hair. I really want to make a good impression on New Year’s Eve. It’s only ten days away. I stop by on my way home to visit my mother. She lives about fifteen minutes from my house in an over fifty-community.

I knock at the door and my mother answers out of breath. “Santina, you nearly scared me to death coming to the door this early morning.”

“Mother it’s two in the afternoon. You must have slept in this morning.”

My mother has a very close relationship with Vodka Martinis. She likes to throw back a few every evening as she watches some man-hating movie on the LMN Channel. She just hasn’t been the same since my father ditched her and married his dental assistant seven years ago. She swears she wouldn’t have been as bitter if the woman had at least been a younger woman and not someone the same age. Somehow, I doubt that would have made that much difference.

“Can I come in mother?”

“Of course, who said you couldn’t?”

I follow my mother through the foyer and the pristine, never used, formal living room into the kitchen.

“Would you like a cup of coffee, Santina?”

“No thank you Mother, but if you have tea that would be great.” My mother refuses to acknowledge that I never drink coffee. It’s just another of her odd little quirks. “Mother guess what?”

Before I can continue, she says, “Santina, I’ve told you time and again that I don’t like guessing games. How in the world would I be able to guess?”

“Mother it’s only a figure of speech. I didn’t really expect you to guess. I was invited to a New Years’ Eve Scavenger Hunt in New York City, isn’t that exciting?”

“New York City, oh I don’t know Santina. That sounds dangerous. Who are you going with? Who is hosting this scavenger hunt?”

“I’m going by myself. I’ve rented a limo to take me there and drive me around. It will be perfectly safe.”

“You didn’t answer me about who invited you?”

“A friend of Bill Holden, my investments broker.”

“How long have you known him Santina?”

I hesitate for a moment and say, “oh I met him six months ago Mother. He’s very well known in the business community.” A bald-faced lie, but I was not about to tell my mother I never met the man.

“Oh well then that seems safe enough, but be aware that there are a lot of crazy people out there on New Year’s Eve in New York City looking for people to take advantage.”

“I know Mother. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. Well, I better get going I have a lot of things to do this weekend. I have a busy workweek ahead of me. I’ll see you later Mom. I’ll give you a call during the week.”

“What? You just got here. Why are you always in a rush to leave Santina? I didn’t even make you your tea.”

I stand up and awkwardly hug my mother. “Never mind Mother I wasn’t really that thirsty.” I head back to the front door and into my SAAB. Somehow my visits with my mother are always brief. I love her, but I just don’t enjoy spending time with her. It’s a shame, but that’s just the way it is with us.

The next week flies by before you know it; it’s New Year’s Eve. I’m dressed to kill.  Even if I do say so myself, I look stunning in my sequined gold vintage Valentino umpire dress. I picked it up for a song in an out-of-the-way shop on South Street in Philadelphia. My cape swirls around me with my every move.

The limo arrives right on time and the chauffeur comes to my door. He’s a handsome man with jet-black hair and a mustache. If that isn’t enough, he has a Middle Eastern accent that’s sexy as hell. When I open the door, I do it with a flourish. He greets me, “Are you, Madam Ferraro?”

“Yes, yes, I am, and you are?”

“My name is Amir Bashara, I am at your service.”

He looks like he could be a sheik, my heart starts pounding and my imagination goes into overdrive. I force myself to calm down. “Yes Amir, here is the list of destinations for the evening. I’m ready to go. I reach over and grab my purse and my digital camera. I follow him out to the limo. It’s gleaming in the light cast by a nearby streetlight. I feel like Cinderella on her way to the ball.

Amir opens the back door and says in his deep, melodic voice, “everything is as you have requested Madam, let me know if I can be of service in any way. There is an intercom in the back should you need anything at all.”

I sit down on the doe soft leather of the back seat. Six people could sit here comfortably. I see a discreet black refrigerator; within it are the chilled champagne I requested and a platter of horderves. I adjust my cape that had become twisted around my legs when I stepped inside the car. Capes are a thing of beauty but not really practical, like many things in life. I stare momentarily at Amir’s profile and dream of a thousand Arabia nights. I let my imagination visit there for a while.

I consider my coming evening. I think about my quest, the places I will visit, and the treasures I must capture. The instructions in the email I received said I must visit the 42nd and Broadway Theater and either take a picture of the theater where the musical Chicago is playing or somehow get a ticket stub for it.

The next goal is to stop in at the Pego Club and have one of their famous cocktails and take the glass. The third stop is the Ice-Skating Rink at Rockefeller Square. I must capture a picture of the Skaters in motion. The final goal is to visit the observatory at the top of the Empire State Building. Where I will meet up with my fellow scavenger hunters and find out who they are. And who is this mysterious person who invited me on this wonderful adventure?

New York City

Photograph by David Mark-Pixabay

The evening passes quickly, and the crisp air in the city is almost electric with excitement. People are walking up and down the streets in glamorous tuxedos and sparkling dresses. I arrive at the theater and see the sign for Chicago. “Amir, could you stop here and let me out? Could you drive around the block and then pick me up in front of the theater? It shouldn’t take me long.”

“Yes of course Madam, would you like me to accompany you?”

“What? No, that’s not necessary, but thank you very much for the offer. I’ll be fine. This won’t take me more than a few moments. I step out of the car and onto the street. It’s unbelievable how crowded the theater district is. There are actors walking around in costumes from some of the shows that are playing in the theaters. I walk up to the theater playing Chicago and take several quick shots of the Marquee and the people milling about. I look around on the ground for a ticket that someone might have dropped. It’s difficult to see because of the constantly moving feet of the people around me. I hear a deep and familiar voice say. “Madam is this what you are looking for?”

I look up at Amir standing there, looking like Aladdin. “Oh, Amir that’s very kind of you but unnecessary. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself. ”

“I have no doubt Madam, but such a beautiful woman as yourself should have company in this great city of New York.”

I look at him closely. I hope he isn’t some kind of stalker. I don’t see crazy in his eyes, but you never know. He hands me a ticket. It’s a stub for Chicago musical. “Wow thank you very much, Amir. I guess we can be on our way.”

“Follow me madam the car is right over here.”

Somehow, he found a parking spot right in front of the theater. He opens the door for me. I step in like Cinderella into the pumpkin carriage.

It doesn’t take very long to arrive at the Pego Club. There’s a long line of people waiting to go inside. I wonder how I will be able to go in and get a cocktail and grab the glass. And still, have time for the other two destinations.

“Madam if you would allow me to step out for a moment I will see if I can arrange for you to enter more quickly?”

“Really, why that would be wonderful. Otherwise, I think I will be waiting in line all night.”

Amir pulls the limo into a spot that miraculously appears in front of us. I look at his mysterious eyes in the rearview mirror. He’s looking back at me. I look down quickly embarrassed to be caught looking at his handsome face. He steps out of the car and disappears into the crowd. The car seems suddenly empty and missing some essential energy. He returns in a few moments and taps on my window. “Madam, I have arranged for us to go in long enough for a drink.”

Us, did he say us? He takes off his cap and puts it in the passenger side of the front seat. I realize for the first time how tall he is and that he’s wearing a very expensive suit that fits him like it was tailored for him. “Oh of course.” I stammer and somehow get out of the car gracefully. My cape flows out behind me like the train on a wedding dress. He offers me his hand as I step out onto the sidewalk. I feel a surge of electricity flow between us. I think I really shouldn’t have drunk that entire carafe of champagne.

I can’t help but notice that the crowd seems to make a path for us to the door. The bouncer lets us walk right in. There’s a low buzz of people talking in the background. A wonderful aroma of incense or perfume is in the air. It reinforces the feeling that I’m walking into a dream. Amir finds a space at the crowded bar and orders. He hands me my cocktail and drinks something dark and golden. After I finish my drink Amir hands me a bag.

“This is for your glass Madam.”

“Amir please call me Santina. I would appreciate it.”

“Madam, I mean Santina that’s a beautiful name. It fits you. Sorry I shouldn’t make such a personal comment.”

I stare at him. He doesn’t really look like he is embarrassed. I’m at a loss for how I should act since I have never been in a situation like this before. “Oh, that’s fine thank you very much. I guess we should be on our way.”

“Of course, let’s be off to the skating rink, I’ve only been there once as a little girl. I’ve been looking forward to seeing it very much.”

The next thing I know we glide up to Rockefeller Center. It’s very crowded. Apparently, everyone wants to skate on the small rink on this beautiful New Year’s Eve.

“Santina would you like to skate on the rink? I can arrange it for you if you wish?”

“What? Oh no, another time would be wonderful. I’m really not dressed for skating, thank you.”

“As you wish. If you would like I will take a picture of you, next to the rink. Then we can be off to the final destination of the Empire State Building observatory.”

We arrive at the Empire State Building at quarter to Twelve.  We are parked at the Fifth Avenue entrance. The street is a wonderland glowing with magnificent Christmas lights and gold and silver decorations.

As we exit the car, I see there are snowflakes beginning to fall. It really seems like a wonderful dream. Amir takes my hand as I get out of the car. I forget that he is my limousine driver. I feel like a princess whose hand is being held by her prince, her Arabian prince. I allow myself to be lost for this moment in this fantasy. We walk into the lobby. It’s an amazing combination of beautiful lights and soft music from a Quartet playing in the background.

“Santina, the elevator is this way.” He escorts me to what looks like a private elevator.

“Amir this can’t be the public elevator. This looks like a private elevator.”

“Santina, it’s alright we can go this way. It has all been arranged for you.”

For me? I wonder what he means by that.  Oh, he must mean for the scavenger hunt group. The elevator arrives at the observatory in what seems like a twinkling of the eye. Amir takes my hand as I step out of the elevator. The view is unbelievably beautiful. The city of New York City is ablaze with lights in every direction. I’m awed by the vision before me.

We walk over to the far wall. Amir makes a sweeping gesture with his arms. I look in Amir’s eyes and he’s looking back into mine. He leans down toward me. All the fireworks and whistles and horns are blowing, fireworks can be seen in the distance. I hear “Happy New Year Santina. It’s all for you. You have only to reach out and take it.”

THE MIND IS A WONDERFUL THING

2 Replies

Goosebumps rise on my arms and legs as I stand at the kitchen sink washing the dishes. I look around quickly, feeling as if someone is watching me. I’m sure everyone has left for the day, but all the same, I walk through the dining room and into the living room, and yell up the steps,” Charles, is that you?”

No one answers.” Huh!” I must be getting paranoid in my old age.  I walk back into the kitchen. I pick up some more dirty glasses along the way. God, why can’t people pick up after themselves? How hard is it to bring the glass in and at least put it in the sink?

The dishwasher is on the fritz again. We can’t afford a new one.  Last week I was laid off from one of my part-time jobs. I put a new trash bag in the can and take the stinking, over-filled one out to the trash can in the backyard.

As I’m about to go back to the house, I have the same weird feeling of being watched. And sure enough, there’s a creepy-looking guy standing in the driveway of my neighbor’s house across the street. He’s staring at me. I look quickly away and walk back into the house. I’ve had a lot of problems with that neighbor in the past.  I tried my best to avoid any interaction with her or any of the freaks that lived on and off with her.

I lock the door behind me and put the chain across to be on the safe side. I wished those neighbors would all move away or disappear from the face of the earth and do the world a favor.

Over the past eight years, Meghan, the woman that owns the house, has sold drugs to minors and provided alcohol to middle school kids at her older son’s thirteenth birthday party. Gone through three messy divorces and a string of live-in boyfriends and had two children in addition to the two she already had.

None of which is any of my business, and I didn’t want to know about it, but I had heard all the fights, including knockdowns in their front yard, that always followed the public displays of affection. She allows her two younger children, less than three years old, to play in the street unsupervised.

Now, this new person, standing there, with his long stringy, black and gray hair, no shirt, and pants hanging so low, you could see everything, including his protruding stomach, and the crack of his ass.

When will it end?” I ask out loud to no one in particular. God, how I had come to hate that woman, I know it’s wrong, but she makes it so easy. I called the police on her one day when I saw her kick her young son on his butt as hard as she could with her booted foot. And he flew five feet, and landed face down in the graveled driveway, then she walked over and started pummeling him with her big meaty hands.

After the police left, she came out into the street and called me every filthy name she could think of, some that I had never heard before. Her language would make an Eagles Football team fan cringe.

I force myself to stop obsessing about her and her minions, by starting the wash and paying some of the bills, on my online bank account. As usual, there are more bills than bucks. I pay the ones that need to be paid first, and I’ll worry about the others later.

It’s time for me to get ready for my one remaining job, as a crossing guard at the elementary school, it doesn’t pay much, but on the other hand, it doesn’t have any benefits either. Who needs health insurance anyway?

I walk the six blocks to the school and wait for the kiddies to arrive. Luckily, I love kids and look forward to seeing their shining, happy faces every day. They all called me Wavy Woman because I have a habit of waving at everyone that passes, by foot or in a vehicle of any kind. It had started as a friendly gesture but has now become something of a compulsion, albeit a harmless one.

Sometimes people in the food store wave at me and said, “Hello, Wavy Woman, nice to see you.” As if that‘s my Christian name. Of course, I’ve found there are a lot of worse things for someone to call you.

I wait until twenty minutes after the last morning bell, and sure enough, here comes Joey, my notorious neighbor’s son, running up to the corner, “Hi, Joey, don’t you look nice today, have fun today in school, see you at three.”

He never speaks to me, just shyly smiles, and runs into the school, once again to be marked tardy. I will be back later. I decide to take a long way home and get some exercise in the fresh if somewhat frosty air.

When I return home, I‘m going to comb through the newspaper and the online job sites for another part-time job. Maybe try something more challenging. I don’t know, maybe being one of those women who replace greetings cards in food stores.

I simply refuse to work in fast food, not because they ruined the environment, by cutting down the rainforest so the cattle can graze there. But for a more selfish reason, I ‘m secretly addicted to French fries, and onion rings, and I’m trying not to become the fat lady in a carnival.

As I arrive at my driveway, I give a glance at my neighbors’ front yard. Thank god, he isn’t there, and then I see he’s sitting on their front step, smoking what I hoped is only a cigarette. I rush up to my back steps and almost step on what appears to be a dead mouse. Dear god, I think what’s next, a horse’s head over my bed?

I walk into the kitchen and grab a plastic bag, and put my hand inside and carefully pick up the mouse, which isn’t in complete rigor mortis. I pull the bag inside out and run to the trash can to throw it in. And run as quickly as possible back into the house, and double-lock the back door.

I throw myself into the task of finding another part-time job and keep my mind occupied for the next three hours. I apply for every part-time job, including a dog walker. Not my best decision. I have a total phobia of dogs of any size, including the type that can fit into teacups and never stop their incessant high-pitched barking.

I eat a quick lunch, answer a few e-mails, and delete all my spam, and empty the little computer trash can for good measure. I know this is done automatically periodically, but what can I say, I’m an organized person.

Before I know it, the timer on my cell phone beeps, signaling me that it’s time to cross the kiddies again. Being safe rather than sorry, I look out the backdoor before venturing outside, and it’s all clear, so I go my merry way.

When I get home, I decide to go through the front door,  to be safe. I walk into the kitchen and look into the freezer to find something I can cook for dinner. Not much. As I ‘m doing that, my cell phone begins ringing. I think it might be about one of the jobs I sent my resume. I pick it right up. It’s not about my resume.

” Hey, it’s me.”  It’s my best friend, Babes. God knows I love her to death. But it’s impossible to get a word in with her, and even more challenging to get off the phone. She’s going on and on about her husband’s habit of leaving a trail of dirty clothes from the front door to the bedroom. Which is annoying, but I’ve heard it a million times, so I start zoning out.

It’s just at that moment I hear a loud rapping at the door. I look through one of the windows at the top of a door, and I think god help me. It’s the pervert. He keeps banging, and banging, he can see me, so I have to answer the door.

“Babes, there’s a freak at the back door. If you hear me scream, please call 911 right away. Hold on while I answer the door.” 

I said all this while she was still talking a mile a minute. So I don’t know if she heard what I said or not.

I reluctantly answer the door, but only a crack, with the chain still attached. “Yes, can I help you? I’m busy. I’m on the phone conducting some business.”

He sticks his hand through the crack. I jump back as if bitten by a snake. He says slowly,” Here, this is yours. We got it by mistake.”

I take it into my hands and look down. It’s my electric bill. I look at him.  I say. ”Thank you.” And quietly pull the door closed.

Family Dance

2 Replies

They barely made it to the cabin before the roads became impassable. The snowstorm has been raging for over two hours.  There wasn’t any going back now. Sarah could barely make out the cabin through the snowy veil. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She was having difficulty catching her breath. 

“Are you alright, Sarah, you look a little pale?” asked her husband, Paul.

“Yes, of course, I guess I’m just a little nervous about seeing all of them. It’s been a long time.

Paul hears Sarah take a deep breath and exhale. “Truthfully, I’m dreading it. Every conversation with them is like walking over an abyss. I always feel as if I take one wrong step, down I’ll fall. Never to be found again.”

“Don’t you think you’re a little overly dramatic, Sarah?

“No, I don’t. You don’t understand because you came from a normal family. Your parents and siblings love one another. You know when you tell your brother or sister something in confidence, it won’t come back and stab you in the heart. Your parents didn’t pit you against one another and make you feel you had to compete for love and acceptance.”

“Well, this is the last time you will have to see one another if that’s what you want. It’s only two days you’ll be all right, Sarah.”

As Paul pulls their Jeep into the driveway, Sarah can see that they are the last ones to arrive. She takes a deep breath and ties her scarf around her neck and puts on her gloves. Although it’s only a short walk from the car to the cabin door, she feels like she needs armor to guard her against the onslaught of pain and heartache that is sure to come her way.

“Go ahead in Sarah. I’ll get the luggage. Be careful the snow is quite deep, and there’s probably ice beneath it. There always is up here in the mountains.”

Sarah plows her way through the nearly two feet of snow. She feels the snow covering her boots and falling inside with each step. The wind is blowing with such force. She can hardly make her way to the door. She pulls open the heavy door, and the wind grabs it out of her hands. It bangs closed. Sarah pulls it open again, using all her remaining strength.

“Oh, for god’s sake, Sarah close the door. We just got it warm in here. I always forget how thoughtless you are.”

Sarah steps through the doorway and directly into the living room. It looks the same. Somehow, she expected it to look different since her parents weren’t here and never would be. “Hello Henry, nice to see you again too.”

“Where’s that good-looking husband of yours, Sarah? Did he run off with a younger woman?” Ask her sister Kate.

Sarah can feel her heart pounding nearly out of her chest now. She takes deep, slow breaths as she tries to compose herself. “He’s bringing in our luggage. He’ll be here in a minute.” Sarah thinks she rather be an orphan then be a part of this family, not for the first time but perhaps the millionth time.

When she was a teenager, she often fantasized that someday her real family would come and rescue her. She prayed and dreamed the wrong parents had somehow taken her home from the hospital. But the dream was just that a dream. Even she couldn’t deny her uncanny resemblance to her siblings.

Paul pulls open the door and throws the luggage through the doorway and lunges into the room. He slams the heavy wooden door closed.

“Well, no one will ever claim that you two don’t know how to make an entrance. What took you so long, anyway? We agreed to meet here at one o’clock, didn’t we?”

Sarah opens her mouth to answer, and nothing comes out.

“Well, perhaps the four of you didn’t notice, but there is a blizzard out there, and while you all only live an hour from here, we drove six hours. Do you have a problem with that? You’re lucky we made it here at all. The roads are nearly impossible to get through.

Sarah looks first at Paul with a small grateful grin on her face. Heaven’s she knows after a lifetime of experiences never to show any fear. For fear is a catalyst to attack for her brother and sisters. “Where’s Ellen, isn’t she coming?”

Sarah feels a slight lifting of her spirits at the thought that she wouldn’t have to endure a weekend with her older sister Ellen.  Ellen took exquisite pleasure in presenting to the world a mask, of a benign and thoughtful person. But that’s all it was, a mask. In reality, Ellen is a wolf, whose saccharine words are laced with strychnine. Her words could cut you to the core and reside there in your soul and slowly eat it away. If you dare to protest, she would say, “Oh, Sarah is so sensitive. You can’t say anything to her without hurting her feelings. She never let’s go of the little hurts. She holds onto them forever. She’s always trying to get attention and make people feel sorry for her.

“Oh, Ellen’s here. She’s taking a nap. She said she’s been having trouble sleeping. Why don’t you two put your bags in the back bedroom while the rest of us start making lunch.”

Paul and Sarah pick up their bags and go into the back bedroom. “I’ll go get some bed linens, Paul. I’ll be right back.” Sarah stands in front of the linen closet, staring. She walks down the hall and quietly opens the bedroom door where Ellen is sleeping. She looks so innocent in her sleep, but doesn’t everyone. Sarah quietly closes the door and walks back down the hall to their bedroom.

As Sarah makes up the bed, she keeps telling herself, everything is going to all right over and over again like a mantra. Maybe if she says enough, it will be. There’s a knock at the door, and Paul opens it. Henry is standing there. “Well, I have some bad news. It seems as if the power is out. Hopefully, it’ll come back soon. Anyway, we’re going to have sandwiches, and I’m going to start a fire so we can have some hot coffee and tea. Later you and I will have to go out and see what the situation is with firewood. There should be some in the back, and there is a cord or so on the front porch. Lunch, such as it is, is ready. Henry turns on his heels and goes back to the kitchen.

“Oh my god, no power, this is going to be a long weekend. I’m going to lose my mind for sure.”

“Sarah calm down; it’s all going to work out. Don’t get so upset. Everything will be alright, I promise you.”

Sarah and Paul sit down at the table. Sarah looks around the table at her siblings. “What no, hello, no fond embrace Sarah?” Ellen’s expression is one of benign indifference.

“Hello Ellen, how are you? It’s been a long time.”

“Yes, it has Sarah. Did you forget my telephone number?”

“No, I didn’t think there was much more to say to one another since our last conversation. You were very clear about how you felt about me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Sarah, you and your active imagination. Always making things bigger than they are. You really ought to see someone about that, dear.”

“You know what Ellen maybe you should keep your mouth shut once in a while.”

Everyone stares at Sarah with disbelief. It seems almost unbelievable that she has finally stood up to Ellen after an entire lifetime of keeping her feelings to herself.”

“Good for you Sarah, it’s about time you told Ellen where she can stick it. She has always been such a bully with you. I always thought she was jealous of you.”

“Jealous of me, whatever for?”

“Well, your talent, slim figure, and sweet personality, to name a few. But I could go on and on.”

“Henry, thank you so much. I’ve always felt like such an outsider in the family. Even Mom and Dad often forgot about me.”

“Forgot about you? Dad treated you like the sun didn’t rise and fall unless you were around. He favored you over all of us.” Ellen all but shouted.

“Not that I was aware. Dad was always saying Sarah would argue with the pope, Sarah stop crying, or I’ll give you something to cry about. Oh yeah, I was his favorite, all right. He never once hugged me or told me he loved me in my entire life. I hate to think about how he would treat me if I weren’t his “favorite.”

“Sarah, maybe you forget he brought you a bagel home every day from work.  He helped you buy your first car. He bought you that new sewing machine when you mentioned you like to have one. Why he never gave me the time of day. And when you moved away from home, he wrote you a letter every week. It broke his heart when you moved away, Sarah. How blind can you be? Oh, Sarah, why do you think he gave you the power of attorney when he was dying of cancer? You’re the youngest one. Henry should have been the one to take over their finances.”

“Well, I didn’t ask Dad to give me his power of attorney. He asked me to do it after he had a stroke. How can you or any of you blame me for what he did? If you remember, because I was given his power of attorney, I had to make all the hard decisions when he was dying of lung cancer. I had to take care of Mother after Dad passed away. I even had to pick out their caskets and pay for the burial ground. Not one word of thanks from any of you in all the years that followed.”

“Thank you, thank you for what?” Ellen asks.

” I’ve lost my appetite. It’s been a long day. I’m going to lie down for a while.”

“Oh, running away again, Sarah, how typical of you.”

“Just what do you want from me, Ellen? Do you want me to apologize because you felt Dad loved me more than he loved you? I never felt anyone loved me until I met Paul. He is the first person who ever showed me any kind of love.”

“Oh Sarah, we all loved you, you must know that. We’re just not a very affectionate family, are we?” Kate asks.

“Not affectionate that’s the understatement of all time. I can’t think of a more cold and uncaring person than the three of you. Not one of you has ever had a kind word for me in my life. At every opportunity, Ellen, you have ridiculed me and made light of my feelings and my accomplishments. I don’t give a damn what reason you have for the way you have behaved towards me.”

“Sarah, for heaven’s sake stop carrying on, you’ve always been such a crybaby. No one could ever say boo to you without you running off and crying to mother. You run away whenever things get difficult. Well, go ahead and leave tomorrow. I certainly won’t miss you.”

“Ellen, you always take things too far. You know that Sarah is a sensitive person and easily hurt, and you take advantage of it. Sarah, please don’t go tomorrow. This weekend is our last chance to work things out between us, besides it’s not safe to drive on the roads. You’ll have to wait until the roads are cleared off.”

“Kate, you’re a little late to be sticking up for me now. Neither you nor Henry ever said a word when Ellen browbeat me throughout my childhood. The only reason I came here was to say goodbye and good riddance to all of you. When you sell this house, I don’t want any part of it. Divide it between the three of you. We’ll be leaving as soon as it’s safe to drive on the roads.”

“Paul, how about going outside with me and collecting wood for the fireplace. Just in case we don’t get the power back for a while?”

“What now? Yes, alright, Henry, let me get my coat. I’ll meet you outside.”

As Paul and Henry step out into the howling snowstorm, Kate walks over and puts her arms around Sarah. Please don’t leave Sarah. Henry and I and especially Ellen, want to work towards becoming a real family. After all, we are the only people left in our family. You know it was Ellen’s idea to have this get together. I know she can be a total ass sometimes, but she wants things to get better.”

Sarah looks over at Ellen and says. “Well, it must be deep inside because I don’t see any evidence of her trying to change her behavior towards me. All right, I’ll try, but I’m not making any promises. I’ll give her another chance but only one.”

“Wonderful, why don’t the three of us start looking through some of Mom and Dad’s papers and see which ones we should keep and which ones we can get throw away. Ellen, will you come over here? We’re going to start looking through the paperwork. I’ll get the boxes out of the hall closet.”

As Kate goes on her quest,  Ellen comes over to Sarah and sits down on the couch and says,” look, Sarah, you’re right, I’m being a jerk. I’ll try and be less of an ass, old habits die-hard. I know you don’t believe it, but I do love you and always have. I’m just not good at expressing it. I’m jealous of you. You always keep in such great shape. Everyone adores you on sight, and it seems you were the recipient of all the talent in the family.”

A tear slides Sarah’s cheek and is quickly followed by another. Ellen hands her a tissue. Sarah wipes her face dry and says, “Oh Ellen, don’t you know how much I looked up to you all my life. I wanted to be just like you, so full of confidence. Successful at whatever task or goal you set for yourself. I used to follow you all over the place when I was a kid.”

Ellen puts her arms around Sarah and gives her the first hug she can remember. And before you know it tears are flowing down both their faces.

Kate looks from one to the other and says,” What’s happening here, jeez? I was only gone a few minutes?

“I think that we’re having our first real conversation that’s what’s happening. Well, let’s see what kind of papers you found.”

As the day passes, the sisters’ find pictures of them from all the summers they spent here with their parents all those years. Sarah is surprised by how many pictures there are of her and Ellen doing things together when she was little. She looks at one picture of the four of them together in their old rowboat, and the joy that their faces described is priceless. It means more to her than any amount of money they might make from selling the cabin.

Paul and Henry come blustering back inside. And Paul is amazed to see Sarah and Ellen and Kate with their heads bent down and alternately laughing and crying. He and Henry exchange looks and Paul says

“Well, Henry, why don’t the two of us play chef while these sisters spend some time revisiting their past and becoming reacquainted.”

“Yes, why don’t we? It looks like we’ll be spending the next few days together, after all. I never thought losing the power would bring about such a happy ending.

She Walks In Beauty Like The Night co-authored by Lord Byron

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” She walks in beauty, like the night/ of cloudless climes and starry skies.”

I’m panicking. I am going to be so late. First, the dry cleaners can’t find my dress. About an hour later, they call me. They apologize. It was sent to the wrong store.

I have to drive forty minutes out of my way to pick it up. I jump in my car. As I pull out, I happen to notice a black Mitsubishi pulls out right behind me. Its headlights are shining into my eyes through the rearview mirror.  I adjust my mirror.

Forget about it. Forget about it. I tell myself. Oh well, it’s probably nothing.  God no, now I’m lost.  I pull over to the curb. It’s a terrible neighborhood. I ‘m afraid to get out of my car. Oh, an older woman walking her dog. I’ll ask her for directions.

 “And all that’s best of dark and bright/ Meet in her aspect and her eyes.”

“Excuse me, Madam, can you please tell me where Haggarty’s Cleaners is? I’ve gotten a little turned around?” She walks a bit closer to my car, but not too close.

“Yes, certainly you make a right turn onto West Avenue, then go down two blocks. It’s on the corner of 2nd Avenue and Lake Avenue.”

“Thank you so much, have a good night.”

I’m about to pull out from the curb. I’m repeating the directions the woman gave me over and over in my head. I have absolutely no sense of direction. It’s so frustrating. As I  pull forward, I happen to notice what looks like the same gleaming black sedan in my rearview mirror. Huh, that’s weird. Is he following me? No that’s ridiculous. Still, I better keep my eyes open.

“Had half impaired the nameless grace.”

I berate myself. Why oh why did I leave the GPS in the other car? How stupid can you be? I see the street sign, 2nd, and Lake Avenue. Thank god there it is. I’ll barely have time to run in, get my dress then stop at some fast food place and change in the lady’s room.

I’m running into the cleaners. My heart is pounding half out of my chest.  If I had time, I would give them a piece of my mind, but I don’t so I practically throw the money at the cashier and rush out the door.

 “Which waves in every raven tress.”

I rush over to my car. Crap I left my car keys on the counter in the cleaners. I practically fly to the door. I yank the door handle. It appears to be locked. But that can’t be true. I pull again. Nothing!

I feel as if I’m going to go stark raving mad. I bang as hard as I can on the door. Oh, thank the dear lord. Here comes the cashier to the door. She has a wicked look on her face. She is dangling my cars keys out temptingly. I pull the door. It’s still locked.

If there is a god in heaven, he will deliver me from this nightmare. The woman opens the door. She flings the keys out the door onto the sidewalk. She turns her back and flips me the bird as she struts away. Well, I can tell you right now, this is the absolutely the last time I will ever use this cleaner. That woman has a lot of nerve.

 “Where thoughts serenely sweet express/ How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.”

As I turn away from the door, I see out of the corner of my eye, a man in the darkness sitting in the black Mitsubishi. I think it’s a man. I can only see the tip of his lit cigarette glowing in the dark. What is he playing at? Is he following me?  I chastise myself. I’m getting paranoid in my old age. 

Just the same, I get myself back into the car, as quickly as possible. I click all the doors locked. I throw the plastic bag wrapped dress into the back seat. And I’m off. Off to find a place to change.

I pass a WaWa. No, that won’t do. Oh, here on my right at the next corner is a Taco Bell. I’ll go in their bathroom and change into my gown and my new $600.00 Ferragamo stilettos.

 “Heat whose love is innocent.”

I drive quickly into the Taco Bell parking lot. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t be caught dead in such a low-class eatery. But I’m desperate. If I don’t show up on time for this event, it will be the death of me, as far as being invited to all the A events. I run through the door, practically knocking a toddler over in the process. Her mother gives me the finger. I ignore her. Peasant.

I push my way into the lady’s room and the empty stall. It smells like the last person that used this toilet, had one too many burritos. God help me, is there no end to what I must suffer in one day?

I pull my clothes off and slip on the sequined black Versace over my head. I take off my work shoes and slide my feet into my gorgeous Ferragamo’s. I step out into the bathroom and gaze at my reflection in the mirror. I run a comb through my hair and spritz on Chanel. I reapply Drop Dead Red lipstick to my lips. It makes my alabaster skin glow. I approve. I walk out of the bathroom.

All eyes are upon me. I can hardly blame them. I know I look magnificent. I glide out the door, and into my future.

 “Day denies.”

Those are the last words I hear as the stranger from the black Mitsubishi clobbers me on the head with a baseball bat and throws me into the filthy trunk of his car.

THE LITTLE WHITE LIE

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OK I lied, but it really was such a small, insignificant lie. I don’t see how it could have hurt anyone. Well, at least no long-lasting harm anyway. After all there was some truth in it. Well, it wasn’t even a lie, a mere oversight really.

It all began the day I stayed home from work because of the snowstorm. My husband was out of town on business. I decided to straighten out the dresser drawers. I usually don’t go into my husband’s dresser because he’s such a fussbudget.

He can always tell if anything has been disturbed or is out of place. My father was the same way. He knew if anyone had been looking through his stuff. He would have a fit if anything of his were moved. Everything had to be just so.

My father had this thing about his pens. He kept them on the top of his dresser and they had to be in the same place not one inch this way or that. The thing is he collected a lot of interesting things. And I love to go through his drawers and shelves when he wasn’t home. I guess you could say I was and still am a bit of a snoop. Over the years I’ve became quite proficient at snooping and being able to put everything away perfectly. And the funny thing is my father never caught on.

Unfortunately, the things that I found out about my father were not always things I wanted to know. But I just couldn’t stop myself. Every time he went out to work or shopping, I would start rooting through his dresser drawers.

But worse then that I started going through his desk in the basement. Oh, the things I found in there. Well let’s just say there are some things that a daughter doesn’t want to know about her father. After awhile it became difficult for me to look my father in the eyes, knowing what I knew about him. It really poisoned our relationship.

When I was old enough, I moved out of the house. I never really went back again. Oh, I call on holidays and birthdays, but that’s all. After all I know who my father really is down deep inside. He doesn’t have me fooled the way he does everyone else.

My mother calls me every Sunday night and begs me to come home for a visit. But I just can’t. I just can’t go back there and I never will. I tell her I’m too busy with work and community commitments. I know it hurts her but I won’t tell her the truth. I know she isn’t strong enough to know the truth. The best thing I could do for her is to stay away.

I guess men are by their very nature duplicitous. They just can’t be truthful about well, even little things. They hold things back. That’s why I have to look for things so I know what’s really going on.

That day it snowed Josh, that’s my husband called and told me his flight, was cancelled. He wouldn’t be able to get home until tomorrow at the soonest. I was a little disappointed at first since we were supposed to go to the McGuire’s house for dinner and out to a movie. And tomorrow is my birthday. I know Josh will have a wonderful surprise for me. But it will be nice to have some time to myself. Well, you know the old saying. idle hands are the devil’s workshop. There’s some truth to that.

So that’s when I decided to straighten the drawers and closets. I carefully looked through everything in there and put them back in place. Low and behold in the second drawer of his dresser I found a box. A wooden box that had a hand carved Phoenix on the lid with inlaid mother of pearl. It was amazing. 

I couldn’t believe all the detail. I lifted the box out of the drawer and opened it. It was lined with the very finest of red silk brocades.  And within it’s silky embrace lay a necklace. It was so amazing I couldn’t breathe for a moment. The chain was braided silver. The pendant was possibly the most beautiful thing I ever seen.

It echoed the Phoenix design of the box. The phoenix was rising out of the fire. It was made of filigreed silver. The eyes were perfect emeralds, my birthstone. Oh, I was so happy I could almost burst. I wanted to call Josh immediately and tell him how much I loved the necklace. I picked up the phone and then remembered I couldn’t do that. Because Josh would know that I had been snooping. I placed the necklace back into the box, the box back into the drawer.

The next day when Josh returned from his business trip. He suggested going out to dinner for my birthday at our favorite restaurant, The Chalet De Couer. We had a great evening, wonderful food and a divine bottle of Muscadet, perfection.

I was waiting for the surprise. My pulse was rapid. I felt a little out of breath.

Josh handed me an exquisitely wrapped box. I opened it carefully not wanting to tear the beautiful paper. I looked down and there was the beautifully carved box. I know I had a wonderfully surprised look on my face. I know because I had practiced it so often in the mirror. “Oh Josh, how wonderful. I’ve never seen anything so gorgeous.”

“Open it, there is something more. I had it made especially for you.”

I opened the box and there it lay in all its beauty. “Oh, Josh I can’t believe how wonderful this is. How wonderful you are. Can you help me put it on?”

So, as you can see sometimes you have to tell a little white lie, it’s really for everyone’s own good isn’t it?”

THE BEGINNING OFTEN STARTS WITH AN ENDING

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Jessica finishes her early morning walk around Strawbridge Lake. She looks down the tree lined path and over at the beautiful Oak tree that‘s silhouetted by the rising sun.

Every morning she wakes up at precisely six o’clock in the morning. She washes her face, brushes her teeth, and runs a comb quickly through her salt and pepper hair. Then she heads out to her ten-year-old VW wagon and drives about a mile and a half to the park for her walk. She’s a creature of habit.

She used to walk around the downtown section of Moorestown. But she stopped doing that since she doesn’t want to run into anyone she knows. Who either offers her their condolences or cross to the other side of the street or ducks into a store to avoid an awkward meeting with her.

It’s difficult to talk to someone who has recently lost a loved one. Or worse yet to run into someone who was in the process of a messy divorce, and then her or his spouse suddenly passes away. After all, what can you say, should you offer condolences, or congratulations? Dear Abby, would be hard put to tell you just the right words in this situation.

Jessica feels conflicted herself. After all she asked for a divorce. She had been very unhappy for a long time. She keeps reliving that day over and over in her head, the conversation, his incredulous expression, and then his burst of anger. She’s rehearsed the conversation in her head for days before she finally worked up the nerve to say the words.

“Al, I have something to tell you. I want out, of this house, and out of this town. I want to start over, somewhere else. A new life, a new beginning, far from here.”

“What are you talking about Jessica? I have a business, my family is here, and our life is here. I can’t move away, start over, don’t be ridiculous we’re not teenagers. You just can’t run away and start over because you’re bored. Get a new hobby, get a new job, for god’s sake, don’t be ridiculous.”

“No, you don’t understand Al. I want a divorce. And I want to get away from you, and your family, with their constant interference, offering their unwanted advice. Second-guessing every little decision and choice we have ever made. I have already contacted a lawyer.”

That’s when Al’s face changed into a face she didn’t recognize, one filled with anger and resentment in a single moment. She never saw him smile again or say anything but words echoing his feelings of resentment and anger. He spent that night in a hotel, and then looked for an apartment to live in until the divorce was finalized.

Jessica starts making plans for her new and improved life. She walks every day at the park, gets her hair colored a more becoming shade of brunette without the gray highlights. She loses weight and goes clothes shopping for a trendy new style of clothing. She begins to transform herself, inside and out.

And then two weeks before the court date for their divorce, Al has a massive heart attack while at work, sitting at his desk making out his quarterly reports. No time to get him to the hospital, or perform CPR, just dead on arrival at Kennedy Hospital.

The next week is a blurry memory, planning the funeral, which turns out to be a nightmare, since all of Al’s family now hate the sight of her, blaming her for his unexpected expiration. She can’t blame them, she blames herself.

In the aftermath, she spends a month just moping around the empty house, packing up his stuff, and then finally just dropping it all off at the Goodwill. Because she can’t face seeing his parents and family again.

She begins walking again after a month. It’s hard for her to believe it, but it has been two months since Al had died. She’s paralyzed. She hasn’t started her new life. In fact, she’s hardly living any kind of life at all.

As she gazes at the sunlit tree, she has an epiphany. It’s a new day. It’s an opportunity to start over, and not just today. That every day offers an opportunity to begin anew. She drives home and throws her purse on the floor next to the front door.

Walks over to the phone and calls a realtor, her lawyer, and one of the few friends she has left, and tells them her plans. She packs a bag with enough clothes for a week and walks out the door, and gets into the car.

Forty-five minutes later she arrives at the Philadelphia International Airport. She asks the American Airlines representative for the first-class ticket to Los Angelus, California, and six hours later they touch down at LAX. 

She rents a sports car and drives to the beach in Santa Barbara. She tosses her shoes onto the back seat and walks to the beach and gazes out at the Pacific Ocean.

She’s startled when a flock of seagulls, lands on the railing in front of the sand dunes. There are eleven of them, she takes this as a sign, that she too can continue with her journey in life, finding adventures without her mate.

Jessica’s still sad that Al doesn’t have the opportunity to do the same thing. But she no longer feels the need to blame herself for something that would have happened whether she had asked for a divorce, or not. Her life will go on.

It’s A New Day, A New Dawn

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As I step out the front door, I put one foot in front of the other. I tell myself just to take one day at a time. I see Roger, my neighbor in his front yard, picking up his newspaper sans pants again. God, no, not today. Please don’t let him see me, not today.

I rush towards my car, pushing the unlock button. Unlock, unlock, I scream inside my head. He is a nice enough old man but somewhat senile. Sometimes he forgets to put in his teeth, and then there are the days like today when he forgets to put on his pants. Roger goes commando, which is unfortunate for everyone who lives in the immediate neighborhood.

Luckily, he has forgotten to wear his glasses as well, so he doesn’t see me, and I make a clean getaway.  I‘m off to my first day at my new job. Never mind that this is the third first day of a new job that I have had to endure in the past five years. Each job is a step down from the job that preceded it. Not to mention a cut in pay. Oh, I meant not to mention it, but I did. Whoops!

I keep reading and hearing on the radio that the economy is turning around, but I don’t see any evidence of that in my life or in the people I know. But there is no point in dwelling on it.

My new job is as a cashier at a car dealership. I have been working in the automobile sales business for thirty years. I started at the bottom as a secretary and worked myself up to vice-president of the new car sales department. I was the only female to reach that position within my company. The auto sales business, especially in a Japanese-owned company, is highly misogynistic. You know, the old boys club, the glass ceiling and all that.

When the economy took its downturn, the auto business went bust. I was the first to be laid off. Actually, I took an early retirement package. I really didn’t have a choice. It was early retirement or fired with no package. This included keeping my pension, one year of health insurance, and one year’s pay.

It took me one year to find another job.  You know something, and there aren’t a lot of vice president jobs for a sixty-something woman. My next job was manager of Internet sales job at one of the dealers I used to audit in my old job. He called me and offered me the position when he heard I had been laid off. I took a $60,000 a year cut in pay, but I didn’t have much choice, no more unemployment left. No other job offers.

After a year there, I was laid off because I kept complaining to the owner that all the car salesmen started drinking after he left for the day. They weren’t the happy drunks you don’t mind being around. They were the other kind, the nasty drunks.

Laid off again and got another Internet manager position, which lasted six months. They decided I wasn’t bringing in enough leads, so they hired an outside company to take over my position.

And that brings you up to speed. I’m driving on the Roosevelt Expressway in the early morning rush hour to my new job as a cashier at another dealership. I hope I will be able to impress them with my years of experience and knowledge of the auto business. Moving quickly up the ladder of success until I once again reach the soaring heights of middle management.

Ah, I see the dealership is coming up on my right and make a sharp right turn. I almost missed the entrance. Unfortunately, someone else is making an equally sharp left turn out of the driveway, and just like that, two cars become one.

My airbag deploys, and I am hit with such force that it knocks the wind out of me. I hope I have not cracked my ribs or some other vital organ. I finally catch my breath, and I see a very furious-looking woman headed my way.

She is wearing a very grim smile on her face. Well, perhaps it’s more a grimace than a smile.

I reach for my cell in case I have to push 911. I look into my glove department for my insurance information. I roll down the window. She immediately starts screaming at me. “It’s your fault. You hit my car. I just bought it last year. Now, what am I going to do? You stupid… ” Well, you fill in the blanks.

I take a deep breath and wait until she runs out of steam and calms down. Finally, she says,” Well, this has turned out to be one of the worse days of my life. First, I get fired with no warning at all, and now you crash into my car and destroy it, No car, no job, what next?”

“I’m really sorry. This is my first day here, and I guess I am a bit nervous and wasn’t watching as carefully as I should have. Let me give you my information.”

“Really, you were starting here today. I didn’t know they were hiring anyone or that there were any openings. What position were you hired for?”

“The cashier position.”

“What the… that’s my job.”

She then lets out a string of expletives that would make a longshoremen blush. I quickly push the button to roll up my window and decide now would be the perfect time to push 911. Before any blood is shed. My blood.

The woman is still ranting and raving and having a full-on tantrum when the cop arrives, and he tries to talk her down. She finally stops screaming but is still shooting me evil looks. Well, you know that expression if looks could kill? Well, it’s true if looks could kill, I would be lying here in a puddle of my own blood, riddled with bullet holes.

The cop talks to me and the lunatic, and everybody cools down. We exchange information, and she heads off on her merry way. Well, not merry, but you know what I mean.

I pull into the parking lot and look for employee parking. I see there is one spot left and pull in. As I walk into the dealership, two sales types come racing towards me, mistaking me for a customer. “Sorry, I’m not a customer. I’m the new cashier. Can you point me in the direction of human resources?”

“Yeah, sure, it right over there, but you’re late, and Z doesn’t like that. Z, that’s the owner, has kind of a bad temper, so try to stay on his good side, if you can find it.

So begins my first day at my new job.

Lost And Found

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I decide to spend the day at the Philadelphia Central Library. I‘ve been working on my family history for the past ten years. I wanted to search the census records for the period of time between 1900 and 1920. I’m in the process of researching my father’s side of the family.

I know that my father was an only child and had been raised from the age of seven until he was sixteen at Girard College. During that time Girard College was a residential boy’s school. The only requirement being that one of their parents was deceased. His father had passed away when he was five from uremic poisoning in 1916.

It’s a beautiful crisp autumn day, so I decided to take the high-speed line over to Philly.  I arrive about a half hour before the library opens. I  walk around the corner to grab something to eat for breakfast at Whole Foods first.

I buy a small container of yogurt, and green tea. Whole Foods is a fabulous food store but they’re  pricey. It cost almost six dollars for these two items. I eat the yogurt quickly as I hadn’t eaten any dinner the night before. The tea is very hot so I sip slowly. It’s delicious. I’m something of a tea connoisseur. At any given moment I can name fifty different brands and types of teas.

Unfortunately, very few people seem particularly interested in hearing my list. Although some have suffered in silence as I listed them in alphabetical order. I know that they don’t want to hear it, but somehow, I feel compelled to tell them. I see first their eyes shift from right to left looking for a way out of the conversation. It isn’t really a conversation more of a monologue.

I give them very little chance to break away. I keep talking at break neck speed. I see their eyes glazing over. I know that they aren’t listening anymore. But still I persist naming my favorite teas, or pies, or ice cream. I have a list for just about any subject.

I decide to walk across the street to the Book Corner a used bookstore operated by the Central Library. It’s filled with used and donated books. Oh yes, I forgot to mention that I also collect books. Books fill every inch of space in my two-bedroom apartment.  They are stacked on and under tables and chairs.  They also live under my bed and on the side of my bed, that I don’t sleep on.

People have told me that I’m a hoarder of books. I disagree, I‘m a bibliophile. I love the feel, smell and touch of old books. My favorite books are art books with full color plates of art, every type of art and every period of history.

I’m a collector of many things, mostly useless facts that no one wants to hear or know about. I almost purchase a book on Jasper Johns one of my favorite abstract expressionist artist. But I talked myself out of it. Since I already had this self-same book at home in one of my piles.

I start walking up the street behind the library and I see something on the sidewalk. I quickstep up to it and lean over and pick it up. It is a watch, a beautiful watch.

I don’t own valuable jewelry myself, but I certainly recognize quality when I see it. It’s gold, a women’s watch, with a mesh watchband. There are twenty-eight small diamonds surrounding the watch face. There is a small stone on the stem of the watch. I think a blue Topaz. I turned over the watch and looked on the back there is an inscription.

It reads: To BLJ, from JPO, and then some words in French. My high school French is somewhat rusty. I graduated quite a few decades ago. I decide to type the French phrase into Google translator when I finally get into the library.

I arrive at the library. I fly up the wide steps and push open the beautiful ornate bronze doors. I’m never disappointed when I enter the library. It has been recently remodeled. The first floor is amazing. The new entry floor is gleaming marble. There are all new showcases. I look in each one and study its contents. This one contains the most beautiful African sculptures. They are like Haiku to me, so few words, but they speak volumes.

Oh, and I see a notice that declares that there is going to be a visit from an author. I definitely will sign up for that. I’ll purchase a copy of her book and have it autographed by her. I feel slightly buzzed being around all this beauty, and the thousands upon thousands of stacks of books, on every subject.

I should have been a librarian, but I wouldn’t have gotten any work done. I would have been reading all day instead of whatever librarians are supposed to be doing. Besides I have observed that librarians are a bit on the strange side. They are either very quirky or annoyed by visitors. If I worked here, I would be probably a little of both and get fired after a month.

I check my pocket to see if my treasure is still there. It is, but I know that I will check my pocket many times just to be sure. It is one of my quirky traits, excessive checking on things. Checking to see if I really locked the door or turned off the iron or didn’t accidentally run over a cat that I thought was a bump in the road. I ‘m just cautious that’s all.

I enter the main book room next to the entrance. I rush over to the computer and go onto the Internet, Google translator. I type in the phase Mon amour éternel. It means my eternal love. God, that is so romantic. The poor soul that lost this must be heartbroken. Imagine losing such a wonderful keepsake.

I almost start to cry right there in the middle of the library. I imagine what it must be like to have someone promise their eternal love. I have never had that. I want it. It is almost a physical ache. And now I know it is probably too late for me.

Still, I keep my eyes open you never know what might happen. I want to find a way to return the watch to the owner but I don’t know what to do.

I approach the man who works at the main information desk. He’s one of the standoffish types, very formal. I ’m not certain but I believe he has some type of vision impairment or he just can’t endure looking into anyone’s eyes.

“Hello, could you tell me if there is a lost and found ?”

He doesn’t look at me or acknowledge my presence in any way. He starts typing on his keyboard. Perhaps he has a hearing deficit as well. I repeat my question only louder. Nothing.

Then somewhat abruptly he says, “No book by that name but several containing that subject matter. Let me print it out for you. ”

“What? No, no you misunderstood. I am asking if the library has a lost and found? You know you find or loose something and check to see if anyone turned it in, or you find something and turn it in. ”

“Go to service desk they might have an answer for you, I do not. ”

“But isn’t this the service desk?” I roll my eyes to the heavens. It’s lost on him. He has dismissed me from his mind. I no longer exist in his world. In my opinion the library has made a poor choice when they placed him in the central hall information desk. He should be sitting in the subbasement somewhere filing something.

I walk over to the main room again and over to a librarian. There are only two librarians now, since most of them were replace by an automated check out system. I wait patiently in line, until it is my turn. I repeat my question. “Do you have a lost and found department?”

“Sir this is the check in or check out department. You need to go to the service desk and ask Mr. Beaumont he will be happy to assist you.”

“But I did speak to Mr. Beaumont. He didn’t assist me. He sent me to you. What do you suggest now?”

“Perhaps you could ask Charles, at the exit to the library. He is the guard that checks all books as you exit the library.”

“Charles, thank you I will speak to him.” I walk over to the library exit and Charles is sitting looking through a large stack of books that an older gentleman is checking out.

I have seen this man before. He looks like an aesthetic or perhaps the English actor who is tall and thin who plays some sort of magician in Lord of the Rings. He has very long shiny gray hair, down to his waist.

I have often seen him when I visited the art department of the library. He always keeps to himself. He is surrounded by books. He spends the day taking notes in a leather notebook. I patiently wait my turn. Finally, I step up to Charles.

“Hello, can you tell me if the library has a lost and found?” As I’m waiting, I check my pocket again to make sure the watch is there.

“Yes, what are you looking for?”

“I am not looking for anything, I found something.”

“Well I can’t help you with that, other than you can write it down. Here write down what you have found on this form and a contact phone number or email. I will give them your information.”

“Alright, let’s do that.” I finally feel like I am making some headway. I give Charles my information. “Thank you, Charles, you have been very helpful.”

I head over to the elevator, push the button for the second floor and wait as it slowly makes its way down from the third floor. The doors slide open. They remodeled the elevator too and it looks like it belongs in a luxury hotel. I step inside. Somehow it has not lost that urine smell it always had. I hold my breath until the doors open to the second floor.

I make a right turn down the first hall, through the literature and find my way into the art department. Oh crap, I think what am I doing here I meant to go to the records department and study the census. I head to the elevator and back to the records department.

I arrive safely, I step up to the desk and ask the librarian to help me find the census for 1900-1920. She is very helpful. I look at the records which are digital copies of the original census books. However, the books were all hand written in script and somewhat difficult to read.

I spend the next three hours looking through them, meeting with some success. I find the record where my father is listed as an inmate of Girard College. An inmate, as if he were a criminal in prison. This upsets me so much, that I turn off the machine and decide to head home.

I buy a hotdog from the vender on the corner, such a cheerful fellow. “Thank you.”

I walk towards the bus stop that will get me to the high Speedline. I arrive at the Speedline intact.  I believe I checked my pocket about fifteen times, before I get on the train.

I notice that my stomach is starting to feel a little queasy and by the time we get over the bridge to the Camden stop, I know that I have gotten some kind of food poisoning from the hotdog. I rush off the train and am forced to use the public facility.

Dear god I hope will I be able to make it home! I do, but just barely. I take some medicine for my stomach. It doesn’t really help. I spend the next ten hours in the bathroom. Finally, I start to feel better. I go in the kitchen. I feel so empty. I decide to have some Earl Grey tea, and dry crackers.

I check my email, to my surprise I have five hundred emails. I open the first one. Bill declares it is his watch and he wants it back. I open the next ten. They are all the same. I realize that I have made a mistake in describing the watch. Chivalry has died and so has my trust in humanity. I will put the watch away or perhaps donate it to some worthwhile Charity. I think of the woman who lost her watch and say a silent prayer for her. She has lost something that was close to her heart and so have I.