Good (though very early) morning Cuties.
Tis the season. We are all swamped and from our many conversations, struggling to find a little Christmas cheer this year. I am unfortunately going to be away until after the first of the year. I know I know... I'm not fond of it either. I'll try to get back here and visit if I can, but being busy little elves yourselves, you know what it's like.
Be safe. Be healthy and be good to you.
I'll miss you very much but look forward to ringing in the new year with all of you.
Merry Christmas
Love,
Tess
Monday, December 16, 2013
Sunday, December 8, 2013
Take Care
When she was younger, he frightened her with his sneering smile and dismissive wave. If she got up the nerve to speak to him at all, invariably, he didn't hear her and walked passed with no remark or a dour glance followed by a sharp "What?" that instantly caused a tightening in her chest, a flush in her cheeks and a muttered excuse as she scuttled down the hall to hide. He didn't like her. She was certain and so she kept her distance though sadly because everyone around her loved him. With them he was jovial, smiling and always quick with a joke. For more than six years this went on until one day when he had barked at her for the last time.
She was busy; had a lot to do. Her mind was on forty different things at once as she hustled down the hall. He was coming out of his office humming Christmas songs as he always did. They stopped and glared at each other as had become their custom. He slowly rocked back on his heels, stepped away and gave her a majestic wave to come ahead. She squared her shoulders and marched on. She dropped her head and said thank you.
"What?" he snapped.
She felt the flush start in her chest and creep up to her cheeks. "Thank you." she tried again.
"What are you thanking ME for?" he growled.
Almost in tears she gritted her teeth and snapped her head to meet him in the eye. "I have no damn clue, Lou. None. So you're right. It's not thank you. It's SCREW YOU and get outta my way I'm busy."
She thought she would vomit. She NEVER spoke to ANYONE this way. Her heart was thundering inside her ribs and her lips were tingling at the ferocity they had so quickly expulsed. He smiled sweetly, nodded abruptly and with a sweep of his hand dismissed her, continuing down the hall singing his carols, a little louder.
And so began a friendship. Instead of the bear down the hall, this man became her "Poppy" ( a nickname shared by many of the younger women in the office and company. They proudly called themselves his harem) She saw him every day and spoke to all the time about work, about family and about life. Each night as she walked out the door, she would say "Have a good night" and he would nod and say "Take care."
Twenty years rolled over them bringing two separate but entangled lives. They shared many jokes and laughs. He made fun of her and she yelled at him. They spoke vulgarly, cruelly and treasured each letter. He was one of the first to hold each of her babies. She dirty danced with only that man, forty years her senior, at each wedding they attended for coworkers and friends. They drank too much at Christmas parties and ate ice cream in their office instead of working on the hottest summer days.
She loved her "Pop".
Each night he told her to "Take care."
When the diagnosis came, leukemia, her stomach knotted but was reassured by doctors, family, everyone that it wasn't a death sentence. Pop could survive this. She numbly nodded and watched him undergo treatment. She watched his hair fall out, the weight come off as the number of days he spent in the office with them grew fewer. He was tired. She understood but began to go in early to have a little more selfish time alone with him to talk. He told her of his mother, how he loved and missed her so very much. He told her of his job in the war, a medic and how he used to speak to the soldiers to ease their suffering as they died or were being tended. He spoke of his favorite place in the whole world, Savannah. He showed her pictures of his friends and shared stories of his boyhood pranks. And she hung on every word. She treasured those times, telling him as she walked out the door. "I'll be back. I love you Pop" He always responded with the same nod and two words: "Take care"
Then he was too weak to come at all. He had barred her from coming to his apartment for almost twenty years but now, she ignored his command. She went to check on him. She found him frail, unshaven and under nourished. She had breakfast with him, every morning and then revisited for lunch. He ate and they talked; about the office, the gang, the weather. Sometimes they just watched TV. She couldn't stay away, wanting; needing only to be with her friend. It made her feel good to know he'd eaten and they'd had a visit. "I'll see you in the morning." or "I'll come back for lunch." was her goodbye.
He answered the same as always.
Christmas was coming. She put a tiny tree on his table and decorated it for him to see when he got up. Returning for lunch, he pointed roughly at the table.
"Who the Hell put that there?"
"I did. Like it?" she was grinning.
"No. It's not all white. I only like all white trees."
"Well, guess what? I didn't have TIME to make it all white but you can bet your wrinkly old ass I'm gonna get some damn snow and MAKE that little piece of shit white. PEARLY WHITE."
"You should."
"I will."
He nodded sharply and chuffed in satisfaction. They had lunch and watched a horror movie.
When the call came that he had been moved to the hospital, she cried. They told her he would not come home. Her heart began to crack and ache. She thought maybe if she stayed away, he would live. That wasn't true and she simply couldn't do it. She went every day just to hold his hand. His throat was so dry and his voice too soft to understand or hear. She raised his cup and nearly sobbed to hear he hadn't enough breath to drink from a straw so she dropped water or milk or soda or whatever he wanted in to his mouth. There were a lot of pain meds. His eyes were cloudy and heavy but one afternoon, he was awake and lucid.
"Can you see this Pop?" She pointed to a white board on the wall at the end of his hospital bed.
"Yeah."
"This far? This white board?"
"YEAH ~ I'm the old sick one. Shame you can't HEAR from over there."
"Yeah...well lookee here Pop..." and with that she drew a Christmas tree on the board. "There's your damn white tree now shut up."
She went over and pulled up his covers, sitting down next to him.
"You bitch." he chuckled and closed his eyes.
There was silence now. He rested. She cried quietly wanting him to get better. When she rose to go, she leaned over and kissed him. "I love you Pop" and wiped the tear she had accidentally given him.
His cool smooth hand clasped hers.
"I love you too. Take care."
She barely made it out the door. Her hand fighting desperately to capture the sob and pain kicking in her chest. Her head throbbed, her eyes slammed shut as she leaned against the railing outside his room.
The next morning, he left her behind and although she understood and was grateful he had no more pain or sickness, she was left numb and speechless at the hole he'd made in her heart; the empty sad hole. The services were perfect. They were what he wanted. All of his friends and family cried as is the case at funerals. There was laughter too. The final ceremony at the mausoleum was the worst for her. The gaping mouth waiting to swallow her friend forever, leaving only letters on granite as the coldest acknowledgment of this great man. The Honor Guard played Taps for him. She found she could comfort no one; not her children or friends not even herself. The tears soaked her cheeks, her handkerchief and her coat. Grief smothered her. And then it was over. His life summed up. And everyone went away ~ off to wakes with drinking and food and laughter. The memories would be shared and life would begin again.
She stood and glared at his final resting place. "I love you Pop. Take care" and she turned to go, humming Christmas carols softly to herself as took her place among the living.
For you, my beloved friend. I will always love and remember you Pop. I miss your face.
She was busy; had a lot to do. Her mind was on forty different things at once as she hustled down the hall. He was coming out of his office humming Christmas songs as he always did. They stopped and glared at each other as had become their custom. He slowly rocked back on his heels, stepped away and gave her a majestic wave to come ahead. She squared her shoulders and marched on. She dropped her head and said thank you.
"What?" he snapped.
She felt the flush start in her chest and creep up to her cheeks. "Thank you." she tried again.
"What are you thanking ME for?" he growled.
Almost in tears she gritted her teeth and snapped her head to meet him in the eye. "I have no damn clue, Lou. None. So you're right. It's not thank you. It's SCREW YOU and get outta my way I'm busy."
She thought she would vomit. She NEVER spoke to ANYONE this way. Her heart was thundering inside her ribs and her lips were tingling at the ferocity they had so quickly expulsed. He smiled sweetly, nodded abruptly and with a sweep of his hand dismissed her, continuing down the hall singing his carols, a little louder.
And so began a friendship. Instead of the bear down the hall, this man became her "Poppy" ( a nickname shared by many of the younger women in the office and company. They proudly called themselves his harem) She saw him every day and spoke to all the time about work, about family and about life. Each night as she walked out the door, she would say "Have a good night" and he would nod and say "Take care."
Twenty years rolled over them bringing two separate but entangled lives. They shared many jokes and laughs. He made fun of her and she yelled at him. They spoke vulgarly, cruelly and treasured each letter. He was one of the first to hold each of her babies. She dirty danced with only that man, forty years her senior, at each wedding they attended for coworkers and friends. They drank too much at Christmas parties and ate ice cream in their office instead of working on the hottest summer days.
She loved her "Pop".
Each night he told her to "Take care."
When the diagnosis came, leukemia, her stomach knotted but was reassured by doctors, family, everyone that it wasn't a death sentence. Pop could survive this. She numbly nodded and watched him undergo treatment. She watched his hair fall out, the weight come off as the number of days he spent in the office with them grew fewer. He was tired. She understood but began to go in early to have a little more selfish time alone with him to talk. He told her of his mother, how he loved and missed her so very much. He told her of his job in the war, a medic and how he used to speak to the soldiers to ease their suffering as they died or were being tended. He spoke of his favorite place in the whole world, Savannah. He showed her pictures of his friends and shared stories of his boyhood pranks. And she hung on every word. She treasured those times, telling him as she walked out the door. "I'll be back. I love you Pop" He always responded with the same nod and two words: "Take care"
Then he was too weak to come at all. He had barred her from coming to his apartment for almost twenty years but now, she ignored his command. She went to check on him. She found him frail, unshaven and under nourished. She had breakfast with him, every morning and then revisited for lunch. He ate and they talked; about the office, the gang, the weather. Sometimes they just watched TV. She couldn't stay away, wanting; needing only to be with her friend. It made her feel good to know he'd eaten and they'd had a visit. "I'll see you in the morning." or "I'll come back for lunch." was her goodbye.
He answered the same as always.
Christmas was coming. She put a tiny tree on his table and decorated it for him to see when he got up. Returning for lunch, he pointed roughly at the table.
"Who the Hell put that there?"
"I did. Like it?" she was grinning.
"No. It's not all white. I only like all white trees."
"Well, guess what? I didn't have TIME to make it all white but you can bet your wrinkly old ass I'm gonna get some damn snow and MAKE that little piece of shit white. PEARLY WHITE."
"You should."
"I will."
He nodded sharply and chuffed in satisfaction. They had lunch and watched a horror movie.
When the call came that he had been moved to the hospital, she cried. They told her he would not come home. Her heart began to crack and ache. She thought maybe if she stayed away, he would live. That wasn't true and she simply couldn't do it. She went every day just to hold his hand. His throat was so dry and his voice too soft to understand or hear. She raised his cup and nearly sobbed to hear he hadn't enough breath to drink from a straw so she dropped water or milk or soda or whatever he wanted in to his mouth. There were a lot of pain meds. His eyes were cloudy and heavy but one afternoon, he was awake and lucid.
"Can you see this Pop?" She pointed to a white board on the wall at the end of his hospital bed.
"Yeah."
"This far? This white board?"
"YEAH ~ I'm the old sick one. Shame you can't HEAR from over there."
"Yeah...well lookee here Pop..." and with that she drew a Christmas tree on the board. "There's your damn white tree now shut up."
She went over and pulled up his covers, sitting down next to him.
"You bitch." he chuckled and closed his eyes.
There was silence now. He rested. She cried quietly wanting him to get better. When she rose to go, she leaned over and kissed him. "I love you Pop" and wiped the tear she had accidentally given him.
His cool smooth hand clasped hers.
"I love you too. Take care."
She barely made it out the door. Her hand fighting desperately to capture the sob and pain kicking in her chest. Her head throbbed, her eyes slammed shut as she leaned against the railing outside his room.
The next morning, he left her behind and although she understood and was grateful he had no more pain or sickness, she was left numb and speechless at the hole he'd made in her heart; the empty sad hole. The services were perfect. They were what he wanted. All of his friends and family cried as is the case at funerals. There was laughter too. The final ceremony at the mausoleum was the worst for her. The gaping mouth waiting to swallow her friend forever, leaving only letters on granite as the coldest acknowledgment of this great man. The Honor Guard played Taps for him. She found she could comfort no one; not her children or friends not even herself. The tears soaked her cheeks, her handkerchief and her coat. Grief smothered her. And then it was over. His life summed up. And everyone went away ~ off to wakes with drinking and food and laughter. The memories would be shared and life would begin again.
She stood and glared at his final resting place. "I love you Pop. Take care" and she turned to go, humming Christmas carols softly to herself as took her place among the living.
For you, my beloved friend. I will always love and remember you Pop. I miss your face.
Friday, December 6, 2013
Guest blogger
Good morning my pretties. I wanted to get this up. I have been meaning to do it since last week, but things have been a little crazy around here.
I would like to introduce my friend and daughter. She asked me to post this and when I read it, I really liked it. She wrote around the song by Better Dig Two by The Band Perry. I hope you like it.
Enjoy.
I would like to introduce my friend and daughter. She asked me to post this and when I read it, I really liked it. She wrote around the song by Better Dig Two by The Band Perry. I hope you like it.
Enjoy.
She stood over
his desk, shaking with fury. In her hands she held letters. Letters she had
never written. Her eyes saw red but she calmly placed the letters back in the
drawer where she had found them and slid it shut. Then she went downstairs to
make dinner.
It had been a
small but joyous wedding. They had grown up together. John was a year older
than Cathy, but they were best friends nonetheless. One could almost never be
seen without the other. When John had fallen off his dirt bike and broken his arm,
Cathy had ridden in the ambulance with him, holding his hand the whole time.
When Cathy got the lead in their high school's production, it was John who had
reserved the whole front row just to see his best friend perform. John had
brought Cathy to his senior prom, and vice versa, so it was no surprise to the
small town of Averdale that the two best friends started dating.
The relationship
was perfect to the eyes of onlookers. John would surprise Cathy at work with
bouquets of blood red roses, and she would always eat with him on her lunch
break. It wasn't long before they were engaged to be married. The wedding was
set for a quiet date in April.
John stood
proudly at the alter as his beautiful bride walked toward him, her dress a pale
snowy white. Her brown hair curled and pinned up in a flawless crown around her
head. Her veil had no faults, and
onlookers swore that she seemed to glow. Her ivy green eyes sparkled as she
read her vows. John looked like the happiest man on the planet as he in turn read
his vows to his wife. Once the wedding was over, John had carried his new bride
to their honeymoon suite at the only hotel in Averdale, where they spent their
night sealing their vows with each other.
The newly weds
never fought to the public eye. It seemed a match made in Heaven. But behind
closed doors the spark of love that held the two together was slowly dying.
What the townspeople saw as John working late to support his wife and prepare
for a baby, was really John working on seducing his secretary. What the town
folk saw as Cathy tired from cleaning, was actually Cathy silently waiting for
her husband to come home smelling of another woman.
Cathy now had
proof that the one man she loved with all her heart did not feel the same way.
As she fervently stirred the pasta for her husband's favorite meal, tears stung
at the backs of her eyes. what had she done to deserve this? She had never
abandoned her husband. She never looked at another man, so why had her husband
done it?
She reached for
the remaining ingredients for her husband's favorite, seafood pasta. As she put
the finishing touches on the dish, she
ladled it into two plates; one for her and one for her cheating, lying,
backstabbing, jackass of a husband. She would show him.
She sat at the
table, candles lit, the lights dimmed. Cathy watched as their anniversary
dinner grew cold, waiting for her husband to come home. Finally he stumbled in
the door, his breath thick with alcohol. She could smell it on him from her
seat at the table. Still, she smiled and rose to kiss him hello and lead him
over to the table so they could eat together.
The police came
a few days later, for John had not shown up to work and his secretary had grown
worried. The scene they found was quite disturbing for a small town such as
Averdale. John and Cathy sat at the kitchen table, their heads leaning forward,
almost as if in prayer. They were dead.
Upon examination
of the seafood pasta in both of their plates, the lab technicians came to
realized it was poisoned. The news of the murder homicide spread like wild fire
through out the town. By that spreading, so did the news off John's affair. All
sympathy went out toward Cathy. Poor girl, she only loved one man just a little
too much. Their graves were side by side. They would be together forever.
Only the police
captain knew the truth behind the murder. He had found the note written and
hidden under Cathy's napkin.
I'll go to
heaven or I'll go to hell before I see him with someone else.
Sunday, December 1, 2013
The Start of the Season
It's been really bleak and dark in my neck of the woods lately; full of sadness and general malady. So I thought I would try to brighten it up just a little around here and decorate for Christmas.
-It's Beginning to Look a lot Like Christmas
Well that began by hauling out all the boxes. I took half of my stuff up to Promises and STILL had about thirty trips up the steps to make. Of course each box felt like it weighed seventy pounds, sounding frighteningly as if full of tiny shards. I tried to think back to last year when the kids surprised me and de-Santa Claused. I was a little nervous but make the trips and revved up the sleigh anyway. I also called the elves.
-Deck the Halls
One thing I have learned is to allow the elves to do it how they want it. I got out the general themes for different areas; whether snowmen, Santas, the village, the goofy things and keep them together but where they go is up for grabs. Somehow in my lil head, it keeps it from getting stale and the kids still want to help because it is their decision. Then of course while they sleep, my OCD takes over and I begin to fix. but I'm getting better. Yes, the meds are nice and help me get better. *she said no less than three times. ;)
-Oh Come All Ye Faithful
But then? The fun runs out. I need to get the outside done. I look and see no elves. Even the toddlers have decided that under blankets is where they should be. That's funny. I thought last year went pretty well. Only one kid cried, and the silent treatment went on for about two days but was over by Sunday night. I summon said elves and we venture to the store with the sale items I want.
-What Child is This
I should have taken only one elf to the store. With two I got :"You're touching me." "No I'm nooooot" and "You smell like butt" and "I'll tell Mom you stole it" of course while leaning on either side of the buggy with all my festive happy new toys inside: new snowmen lights, new decorations so I could make the small window wreaths, new candles... but I have this warm vicious wind of accusation, teasing and bad humor blowing my hair and my good will toward men (and elves) right out the window. Ho Ho -
"If you don't stop, RIGHT NOW I'm hauling you BOTH home and will devise such a punishment that you will wish you had been orphaned in a fire"
-I'll Have a Blue Christmas
We head home, mimicking "Silent Night" and begin crafting; glue guns ready at the aim, tinsel, cranberries, drums, ribbon....you name it; I strung it together and made it. Then came the hanging of it and the plugging in. I was pleased overall with few blown bulbs and twinkles where they belonged. The windows look pretty especially after all the work we've had done on the house in the last months and then of course I stepped out to light up the yard; tiny snowmen with little hats, teeny birds on their shoulders waited patiently to pop out and light up my holiday nights. So I pulled them out, lined them up, stuck sticks up their butts and planted them in the ground, fished cords all over and waited much like Clark Griswold.
-Joy to the World
I had done it. I had succeeded. Christmas belonged to me and it would be wonderful. Enter Mother Nature. She decided to be a Scrooge and assault my Christmas miracle in the form of wind and rain. The following morning, I stepped out to see my tiny new friends laying face down in the mud; dirty broken twig arms, limp lonely teeny birds, smudgy faces and soggy hats. Wreaths were crooked or spun, one was perched precariously atop my gutter.
-Mr. Grinch
But I waded in in my work clothes this bright chilly morning to save the tiny army of holiday cheer drowning in my flowerbed. Like a festive M*A*S*H* unit, I used my glue gun to triage and save the group of Frostys. I stepped back and admired my holiday Florence Nightengale-ish work. Proud of my efforts, I turned to leave, tripping on the bright orange electrical cord in my favorite black high-heeled boots. I managed to fall to my knees but skidded in the mud aaaaall the way out to the walk dragging a wobbly chorus line of what looked like drunk, barely dressed snowballs throwing spears at my shins.
-Ave Maria
Dazed, I looked up wanting nothing more than dry clothes and an end to the holiday season. I glared at the filthy smiling white globes. I wanted to burn their little "wood" arms or at least see them melt and quiver under a really bright bulb. I tasted defeat but picked myself up, wiped off and silently replaced my mud battered buddies. I changed my clothes got into my car and drove to work.
I turned on the radio
-We Wish You a Merry Christmas
My Arse. And you can put THAT Away in a Manger.
;)
Not the best but it was cute to me. Made me smile which was difficult this weekend. I am glad to share it with you and happy you shared your time with me. It's nice to see you. Thanks for stopping by. I hope to hang out with you soon.
-It's Beginning to Look a lot Like Christmas
Well that began by hauling out all the boxes. I took half of my stuff up to Promises and STILL had about thirty trips up the steps to make. Of course each box felt like it weighed seventy pounds, sounding frighteningly as if full of tiny shards. I tried to think back to last year when the kids surprised me and de-Santa Claused. I was a little nervous but make the trips and revved up the sleigh anyway. I also called the elves.
-Deck the Halls
One thing I have learned is to allow the elves to do it how they want it. I got out the general themes for different areas; whether snowmen, Santas, the village, the goofy things and keep them together but where they go is up for grabs. Somehow in my lil head, it keeps it from getting stale and the kids still want to help because it is their decision. Then of course while they sleep, my OCD takes over and I begin to fix. but I'm getting better. Yes, the meds are nice and help me get better. *she said no less than three times. ;)
-Oh Come All Ye Faithful
But then? The fun runs out. I need to get the outside done. I look and see no elves. Even the toddlers have decided that under blankets is where they should be. That's funny. I thought last year went pretty well. Only one kid cried, and the silent treatment went on for about two days but was over by Sunday night. I summon said elves and we venture to the store with the sale items I want.
-What Child is This
I should have taken only one elf to the store. With two I got :"You're touching me." "No I'm nooooot" and "You smell like butt" and "I'll tell Mom you stole it" of course while leaning on either side of the buggy with all my festive happy new toys inside: new snowmen lights, new decorations so I could make the small window wreaths, new candles... but I have this warm vicious wind of accusation, teasing and bad humor blowing my hair and my good will toward men (and elves) right out the window. Ho Ho -
"If you don't stop, RIGHT NOW I'm hauling you BOTH home and will devise such a punishment that you will wish you had been orphaned in a fire"
-I'll Have a Blue Christmas
We head home, mimicking "Silent Night" and begin crafting; glue guns ready at the aim, tinsel, cranberries, drums, ribbon....you name it; I strung it together and made it. Then came the hanging of it and the plugging in. I was pleased overall with few blown bulbs and twinkles where they belonged. The windows look pretty especially after all the work we've had done on the house in the last months and then of course I stepped out to light up the yard; tiny snowmen with little hats, teeny birds on their shoulders waited patiently to pop out and light up my holiday nights. So I pulled them out, lined them up, stuck sticks up their butts and planted them in the ground, fished cords all over and waited much like Clark Griswold.
-Joy to the World
I had done it. I had succeeded. Christmas belonged to me and it would be wonderful. Enter Mother Nature. She decided to be a Scrooge and assault my Christmas miracle in the form of wind and rain. The following morning, I stepped out to see my tiny new friends laying face down in the mud; dirty broken twig arms, limp lonely teeny birds, smudgy faces and soggy hats. Wreaths were crooked or spun, one was perched precariously atop my gutter.
-Mr. Grinch
But I waded in in my work clothes this bright chilly morning to save the tiny army of holiday cheer drowning in my flowerbed. Like a festive M*A*S*H* unit, I used my glue gun to triage and save the group of Frostys. I stepped back and admired my holiday Florence Nightengale-ish work. Proud of my efforts, I turned to leave, tripping on the bright orange electrical cord in my favorite black high-heeled boots. I managed to fall to my knees but skidded in the mud aaaaall the way out to the walk dragging a wobbly chorus line of what looked like drunk, barely dressed snowballs throwing spears at my shins.
-Ave Maria
Dazed, I looked up wanting nothing more than dry clothes and an end to the holiday season. I glared at the filthy smiling white globes. I wanted to burn their little "wood" arms or at least see them melt and quiver under a really bright bulb. I tasted defeat but picked myself up, wiped off and silently replaced my mud battered buddies. I changed my clothes got into my car and drove to work.
I turned on the radio
-We Wish You a Merry Christmas
My Arse. And you can put THAT Away in a Manger.
;)
Not the best but it was cute to me. Made me smile which was difficult this weekend. I am glad to share it with you and happy you shared your time with me. It's nice to see you. Thanks for stopping by. I hope to hang out with you soon.
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Wow. It's all I can say. I have been one beaten little dawg in these last few weeks between work and home. It has really left me dazed, exhausted, sad ... you name it. I've walked miles in my dining room at night and marathons in my neighborhood trying to keep my sanity and perspective intact; success remains to be seen. I understand life is hard (especially at this phase in my life) and I've never been afraid of hard work ~ in any arena, but I am at a breaking point. That is scary; truly scary. I have a couple of days on my own at Promises soon; dire need.
So please be a little patient, I'll be back soon and as good as new I hope.
But for now, I just would like a fluffy pillow, my fireplace, and a quiet nap.
Don't hog the blankets but you're welcome to snuggle with me for a while. You're always comfortable.
See you soon.
Love
Tessa
So please be a little patient, I'll be back soon and as good as new I hope.
But for now, I just would like a fluffy pillow, my fireplace, and a quiet nap.
Don't hog the blankets but you're welcome to snuggle with me for a while. You're always comfortable.
See you soon.
Love
Tessa
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Bad People
People thought he was a doctor because he was noble and wanted to heal. He allowed them to think that. He was merely watching and waiting. The fact that he worked in crisis centers all over the state was not due to generosity or selflessness. He was surveying. Granted, he took delight in mending the broken and helping them get things back to order in their lives. He had, after all, been given the same gift. His step-father had taken him in, protected and loved him like his own and seen to it that he had everything he would need to succeed in all his life's endeavors; ALL of them.Ted understood grateful and humble. Since the night his father had been murdered over a few trinkets and some wadded up twenties, Ted had been forced to be watchful, mindful because bad people were everywhere.
The triage was buzzing like crazy tonight; full moon madness was in full swing.
"Aaaand let's take a look behind curtain number two...." he said to himself and stopped. A frail young redhead was curled up on her side,cradling a dislocated elbow and her young son, who had pulled loose a lock of her hair and was soothing himself by tracing it across his cheek. His black hair covered the worry and fear that haunted his eyes. Seeing the doctor, both curled tighter around each other. The chart named her Lillie; a lovely delicate name for one who had to be tough as nails to tolerate the thirty four broken bones and fractures; let alone the more than eighty stitches that claimed her body in the last thirteen months. The boy was Joseph. He was less marred; lucky to have minor contusions and surface scratches that still could be covered with Elmo and Cookie Monster band aids. It enraged him to see this; to see her again.
"Hello Lillie." he said softly
"Oh hey Dr.Ted. I didn't know you were working tonight."
He chuffed. "Please don't tell me that you would have come in earlier or that you are just here to see me. I will make sure you get my office number. I'd rather see you that way. Not like this. What do we have today? Hey Joseph."
"Hi Dr. Ted. I made a fan." The little fist produced an accordion folded napkin and waved it just under his mother's chin.
"Oh my. That IS handy Joseph. Some days it gets hot as blue blazes in here."
"Are blazes really hot AND blue?"
"Yes sir they are."
Dr. Ted began his examination of Lillie for the second time in two weeks. Tonight brought the dislocation, several bruises, a black eye, a boxed ear and angry hand prints around her throat.
"Lillie, what brought this on?"
"I fell"
"Lillie."
"Please Doc. I fell."
He grimaced and clicked his pen in frustration, writing her a prescription.
"Nothing hard." she warned quietly. "That causes problems"
Ted shook his head and did as she asked, writing for ibuprofen and advising acetaminophen.
"What will it take Lillie? Please don't let him get to Joseph. You're not protecting him. It's a matter of time."
"I know Doc. I'm trying; so hard."
"Can I help you?"
She smiled weakly. "No charity."
"None."
"Thanks Doc. I have to go. Shift ends soon. I need to get Joseph something to eat for school tomorrow and we will need to figure out meals for the next couple of days."
Ted opened his wallet as he had each time she'd been here. Ever since he'd seen the man's face, he'd been waiting. Ted had kept an eye on Lillie, taken special interest to ensure she was protected as well as her son. The man was rotten to the core, incapable of compassion, understanding or love. He was a junk yard dog.
"Please Lillie. Be careful. Be safe. this world would sorely miss an angel like you." He tucked the money in her hands, kissed them and stroked her cheek. He tousled Joseph's hair and left them, frowning as they hurriedly packed up to return to the Hell they called home.
Not three days later, he yanked back the curtain to see Joseph balled up, floating in the abyss of hospital sheets and pillows he'd rearranged around himself.
"Joseph?"
"Dr. Ted!" the tears were instantaneous and the little boy all but flew from the bed to throw himself into Ted's arms. The doctor encircled him and held his breath, dreading the words he knew would come from the little boy.
"He.. He... Hurt... She... toldmetorun...to hide to hide TO HIDE. I waited and I waited... but there was no noise and I dint know where to go Dr Ted I don't know where mommy is." The child's voice was choked with sobs picking up speed where the truth was at its worst. Ted pulled him as close as he could and rocked gently. His hand stroked the boys hair and he kissed it tenderly.
His own memories came storming back. The night his father was killed. The police officer pulling the young Dr-to-be from inside a tiny cupboard where he had stacked toilet paper as the only wall of defense against a darkness more dangerous than any shadow. Ted was about Joseph's age. He understood that word: Hide.
It had saved his life from the angry monster with the tattoo on the back of his neck who had shot his dad over his wallet, his watch and his coat. He had been robbing Ted's house when he and his father had come home from the movies. They both heard the rustling. His dad whispering for him to "wait" at first but then there was shouting and a popping noise. Ted's dad yelled for Ted to hide ~Hide good and then more popping and then his dad yelled "I love you" and the fifth pop made it all quiet. Forever.
Ted stayed hidden. Inside the little cupboard, he managed to stack rolls of toilet paper in front of himself to make it look like he wasn't there. He heard the footsteps and the voice. He heard doors opening and slamming. He heard swearing and promises to not hurt as long as he never told. Ted knew these were lies and so he kept hidden. He was so scared he wet his pants. He wanted to scream for help but bit into the paper roll and cried until there were no more tears. And he waited. When the door opened, little Ted backed as far in to the corner as possible; disappearing. The cupboard door shut then opened again. Someone knelt down and looked between the rolls. Slowly a hand pulled one away, then another and at last eyes met and Ted saw who would become his foster father and step-dad. The man offered his hand. He helped Ted get cleaned up before holding his hand and leading him out. He never left Ted's side. Not during the ambulance ride, not during the hospital stay, not ever during any questioning. never. Officer Tom, Dad, stayed. He raised Ted and Ted was happy.
The boy in Ted's arms monkey- wrapped himself around the doctor's body. Ted could feel him starting to twitch and fall asleep. A ruckus began in the main lobby; a loud one.
"Where is my SON?" an angry man was slamming his fists on the desk and pointing hatefully at the charge nurse.
Ted pushed the button and stepped out holding Joseph.
"Sir. Lower your voice." his own was low and soft but carried a warning that caused the other to regain himself.
"Joseph." he sighed and reached for him but Ted twisted away. The man hesitated.
"Where is Lillie?" he asked.
"What's it to you?" the man sneered and reached again. Ted put Joseph down and stepped in front of the boy.
"Where. Is. Lillie." Ted was a tall solid man whose mere presence commanded notice; with emotion involved, a whiff of fear was in the air.
"I dunno. I came for my boy. Hey Joey. C'mere. Let's get somethin to eat, eh? I got off early. I'm starvin! burgers or pizza?" the man bent down to his haunches. Ted fought with a vengeance to not begin kicking Joseph's father while he was down there. Joseph stepped out and took it. His other fingers up near his mouth as if to keep words in or a frightened cry. The man smugly snatched it and stood. "Right. Well, we'll be going. Sorry for the trouble." The man turned and Ted caught his breath. He felt heat surge up from his gut to the top of his head. His teeth began to grind so hard he thought he'd have nothing but pulp in his mouth if he tried to speak.
"Be careful."he muttered.
"Oh he will." Joseph's dad tightly said and yanked at the boy to hurry.
"I mean you." Ted said quietly. "See you soon Joseph."
The boy turned and wiped the tear from his cheek. He blew a kiss, threw a wave and mouthed "Help"
It took Ted three days to get what he needed. He hoped it wasn't too late. He began by watching the house. Joseph was up and was taken to school. Not by the father of course but by some young girl in clothes a baby doll would have trouble fitting into. the father was usually nursing bad habits from the nigh before. Ted made sure Joseph got home, had something to eat and did his work. He asked Joseph to not tell. It was as if Lillie had simply disappeared.
The good doctor had given up his extra nights at the clinic to watch out for Joseph. On that night, he saw the man pull in and knew. the car barely jerked to a stop before the man got out and swooped to the side then staggered to the front door. He beat it with his fists and began to shout. Ted readied himself. He felt the prick of cold sweat. He felt his knees begin to shake and his spine fizzled just as it had that night so many years ago when he'd had to hide from this man; the man who'd killed his own dad had mistakenly become one. Ted was certain because in all the years, after all the questions, Ted never told what the man looked like but he knew and all it took was one glance at the tattoo on the back of the man's neck when he bent down to scoop up the son he didn't deserve to bring Karma around full in the face. No more hiding.
The shouting was muffled in Ted's ears as his pulse quickened and thundered through his body. He walked brusquely up the steps and opened the door. Joseph's dad had the little boy by the collar and was shaking him. Inches from his face he was spitting while he hollered and threatened, his fist cocked and ready to throw. He saw Ted and his jaw dropped. He let the boy go who immediately ran and wrapped around Ted's knees. The doctor never peeled his eyes off the man but knelt down and spoke softly to Joseph. He hugged him and stood again.
"Hide Joseph." he said. "Hide good." He felt the lump in his throat; painful and sad.
The other man turned and faced him. "You don't belong here."
"I do. More than most." Ted put his hands in his pockets and gently caressed the gun.
"You a do gooder? Gonna save that boy?"
"Gonna save THIS one."
The man cocked his head.
"You told me to never tell. I didn't."
"What? What did you say?"
"You told me you wouldn't hurt me if I never told. I didn't but you killed my dad. You hurt me anyway."
The man's color drained into the floor. He gasped as if choked by sawdust.
"You..."
Ted smiled genuinely. "Yes."
The man backed up and began to stammer. "Look kid. You don't understand. I didn't mean to do that. Your old man just had to give me the keys and his money. He just wouldn't stop coming at me. I had to. I HAD to."
Ted took a step closer and removed the gun so it was in full view. The man began to wave his hands as if to push down a naughty dog. "Hey hey don't come closer. Don't do this. Don't rob Joey of a father. Let me go. I'll be better. I'll get clean. You'll never see me again. Let me go man, I won't tell. Never."
"You're right."
and Joseph heard five pops ~ like firecrackers on Independence day. His eyes slammed shut and his tiny fingers plugged his ears. He imagined the fireworks and they were wonderful. When there was quiet, he heard footsteps coming toward him; slow and deliberate. The little boy backed in to the corner of the small space where he was hidden. The door opened closed and opened again. The man knelt down and peered in.
"Joseph?"
Nothing.
"It's okay Joseph. You don't have to hide. Come out here."
The little boy crept out and into the doctor's arms.
"What do we do?" the boy jammed his fists into his eyes and his voice hitched.
"We call the police and we get you checked out. I know a good doctor."
"Better than you?" the boy sniffled. "Can you stay with me for a while? Until Mommy comes?"
"Yes. I will make some calls and I will see to that." and Ted felt the pang of loss for this innocent little boy.
Flashing lights and noise began to surround them. Ted walked out with Joseph on his hip, his phone to his ear as he dialed his own hero.
"Dad? Need some help..."
The police chief cleared his head from sleepy cobwebs and listened to his step-son as he began to tell.
A little bit longer, but I like the twist. You know I'm all about the twist. I guess because it is never EVER as it seems; whether a person you have known for years or a situation you stumble upon. Face value, is dangerous for both who presents it and who is witness to it.
I'm glad you came by to visit. I enjoy your emails, comments and especially your company. I have a good one rolling around in my head, but must get it on paper first. I'll see you soon for some more good times.
Have a good week.
Tess
The triage was buzzing like crazy tonight; full moon madness was in full swing.
"Aaaand let's take a look behind curtain number two...." he said to himself and stopped. A frail young redhead was curled up on her side,cradling a dislocated elbow and her young son, who had pulled loose a lock of her hair and was soothing himself by tracing it across his cheek. His black hair covered the worry and fear that haunted his eyes. Seeing the doctor, both curled tighter around each other. The chart named her Lillie; a lovely delicate name for one who had to be tough as nails to tolerate the thirty four broken bones and fractures; let alone the more than eighty stitches that claimed her body in the last thirteen months. The boy was Joseph. He was less marred; lucky to have minor contusions and surface scratches that still could be covered with Elmo and Cookie Monster band aids. It enraged him to see this; to see her again.
"Hello Lillie." he said softly
"Oh hey Dr.Ted. I didn't know you were working tonight."
He chuffed. "Please don't tell me that you would have come in earlier or that you are just here to see me. I will make sure you get my office number. I'd rather see you that way. Not like this. What do we have today? Hey Joseph."
"Hi Dr. Ted. I made a fan." The little fist produced an accordion folded napkin and waved it just under his mother's chin.
"Oh my. That IS handy Joseph. Some days it gets hot as blue blazes in here."
"Are blazes really hot AND blue?"
"Yes sir they are."
Dr. Ted began his examination of Lillie for the second time in two weeks. Tonight brought the dislocation, several bruises, a black eye, a boxed ear and angry hand prints around her throat.
"Lillie, what brought this on?"
"I fell"
"Lillie."
"Please Doc. I fell."
He grimaced and clicked his pen in frustration, writing her a prescription.
"Nothing hard." she warned quietly. "That causes problems"
Ted shook his head and did as she asked, writing for ibuprofen and advising acetaminophen.
"What will it take Lillie? Please don't let him get to Joseph. You're not protecting him. It's a matter of time."
"I know Doc. I'm trying; so hard."
"Can I help you?"
She smiled weakly. "No charity."
"None."
"Thanks Doc. I have to go. Shift ends soon. I need to get Joseph something to eat for school tomorrow and we will need to figure out meals for the next couple of days."
Ted opened his wallet as he had each time she'd been here. Ever since he'd seen the man's face, he'd been waiting. Ted had kept an eye on Lillie, taken special interest to ensure she was protected as well as her son. The man was rotten to the core, incapable of compassion, understanding or love. He was a junk yard dog.
"Please Lillie. Be careful. Be safe. this world would sorely miss an angel like you." He tucked the money in her hands, kissed them and stroked her cheek. He tousled Joseph's hair and left them, frowning as they hurriedly packed up to return to the Hell they called home.
Not three days later, he yanked back the curtain to see Joseph balled up, floating in the abyss of hospital sheets and pillows he'd rearranged around himself.
"Joseph?"
"Dr. Ted!" the tears were instantaneous and the little boy all but flew from the bed to throw himself into Ted's arms. The doctor encircled him and held his breath, dreading the words he knew would come from the little boy.
"He.. He... Hurt... She... toldmetorun...to hide to hide TO HIDE. I waited and I waited... but there was no noise and I dint know where to go Dr Ted I don't know where mommy is." The child's voice was choked with sobs picking up speed where the truth was at its worst. Ted pulled him as close as he could and rocked gently. His hand stroked the boys hair and he kissed it tenderly.
His own memories came storming back. The night his father was killed. The police officer pulling the young Dr-to-be from inside a tiny cupboard where he had stacked toilet paper as the only wall of defense against a darkness more dangerous than any shadow. Ted was about Joseph's age. He understood that word: Hide.
It had saved his life from the angry monster with the tattoo on the back of his neck who had shot his dad over his wallet, his watch and his coat. He had been robbing Ted's house when he and his father had come home from the movies. They both heard the rustling. His dad whispering for him to "wait" at first but then there was shouting and a popping noise. Ted's dad yelled for Ted to hide ~Hide good and then more popping and then his dad yelled "I love you" and the fifth pop made it all quiet. Forever.
Ted stayed hidden. Inside the little cupboard, he managed to stack rolls of toilet paper in front of himself to make it look like he wasn't there. He heard the footsteps and the voice. He heard doors opening and slamming. He heard swearing and promises to not hurt as long as he never told. Ted knew these were lies and so he kept hidden. He was so scared he wet his pants. He wanted to scream for help but bit into the paper roll and cried until there were no more tears. And he waited. When the door opened, little Ted backed as far in to the corner as possible; disappearing. The cupboard door shut then opened again. Someone knelt down and looked between the rolls. Slowly a hand pulled one away, then another and at last eyes met and Ted saw who would become his foster father and step-dad. The man offered his hand. He helped Ted get cleaned up before holding his hand and leading him out. He never left Ted's side. Not during the ambulance ride, not during the hospital stay, not ever during any questioning. never. Officer Tom, Dad, stayed. He raised Ted and Ted was happy.
The boy in Ted's arms monkey- wrapped himself around the doctor's body. Ted could feel him starting to twitch and fall asleep. A ruckus began in the main lobby; a loud one.
"Where is my SON?" an angry man was slamming his fists on the desk and pointing hatefully at the charge nurse.
Ted pushed the button and stepped out holding Joseph.
"Sir. Lower your voice." his own was low and soft but carried a warning that caused the other to regain himself.
"Joseph." he sighed and reached for him but Ted twisted away. The man hesitated.
"Where is Lillie?" he asked.
"What's it to you?" the man sneered and reached again. Ted put Joseph down and stepped in front of the boy.
"Where. Is. Lillie." Ted was a tall solid man whose mere presence commanded notice; with emotion involved, a whiff of fear was in the air.
"I dunno. I came for my boy. Hey Joey. C'mere. Let's get somethin to eat, eh? I got off early. I'm starvin! burgers or pizza?" the man bent down to his haunches. Ted fought with a vengeance to not begin kicking Joseph's father while he was down there. Joseph stepped out and took it. His other fingers up near his mouth as if to keep words in or a frightened cry. The man smugly snatched it and stood. "Right. Well, we'll be going. Sorry for the trouble." The man turned and Ted caught his breath. He felt heat surge up from his gut to the top of his head. His teeth began to grind so hard he thought he'd have nothing but pulp in his mouth if he tried to speak.
"Be careful."he muttered.
"Oh he will." Joseph's dad tightly said and yanked at the boy to hurry.
"I mean you." Ted said quietly. "See you soon Joseph."
The boy turned and wiped the tear from his cheek. He blew a kiss, threw a wave and mouthed "Help"
It took Ted three days to get what he needed. He hoped it wasn't too late. He began by watching the house. Joseph was up and was taken to school. Not by the father of course but by some young girl in clothes a baby doll would have trouble fitting into. the father was usually nursing bad habits from the nigh before. Ted made sure Joseph got home, had something to eat and did his work. He asked Joseph to not tell. It was as if Lillie had simply disappeared.
The good doctor had given up his extra nights at the clinic to watch out for Joseph. On that night, he saw the man pull in and knew. the car barely jerked to a stop before the man got out and swooped to the side then staggered to the front door. He beat it with his fists and began to shout. Ted readied himself. He felt the prick of cold sweat. He felt his knees begin to shake and his spine fizzled just as it had that night so many years ago when he'd had to hide from this man; the man who'd killed his own dad had mistakenly become one. Ted was certain because in all the years, after all the questions, Ted never told what the man looked like but he knew and all it took was one glance at the tattoo on the back of the man's neck when he bent down to scoop up the son he didn't deserve to bring Karma around full in the face. No more hiding.
The shouting was muffled in Ted's ears as his pulse quickened and thundered through his body. He walked brusquely up the steps and opened the door. Joseph's dad had the little boy by the collar and was shaking him. Inches from his face he was spitting while he hollered and threatened, his fist cocked and ready to throw. He saw Ted and his jaw dropped. He let the boy go who immediately ran and wrapped around Ted's knees. The doctor never peeled his eyes off the man but knelt down and spoke softly to Joseph. He hugged him and stood again.
"Hide Joseph." he said. "Hide good." He felt the lump in his throat; painful and sad.
The other man turned and faced him. "You don't belong here."
"I do. More than most." Ted put his hands in his pockets and gently caressed the gun.
"You a do gooder? Gonna save that boy?"
"Gonna save THIS one."
The man cocked his head.
"You told me to never tell. I didn't."
"What? What did you say?"
"You told me you wouldn't hurt me if I never told. I didn't but you killed my dad. You hurt me anyway."
The man's color drained into the floor. He gasped as if choked by sawdust.
"You..."
Ted smiled genuinely. "Yes."
The man backed up and began to stammer. "Look kid. You don't understand. I didn't mean to do that. Your old man just had to give me the keys and his money. He just wouldn't stop coming at me. I had to. I HAD to."
Ted took a step closer and removed the gun so it was in full view. The man began to wave his hands as if to push down a naughty dog. "Hey hey don't come closer. Don't do this. Don't rob Joey of a father. Let me go. I'll be better. I'll get clean. You'll never see me again. Let me go man, I won't tell. Never."
"You're right."
and Joseph heard five pops ~ like firecrackers on Independence day. His eyes slammed shut and his tiny fingers plugged his ears. He imagined the fireworks and they were wonderful. When there was quiet, he heard footsteps coming toward him; slow and deliberate. The little boy backed in to the corner of the small space where he was hidden. The door opened closed and opened again. The man knelt down and peered in.
"Joseph?"
Nothing.
"It's okay Joseph. You don't have to hide. Come out here."
The little boy crept out and into the doctor's arms.
"What do we do?" the boy jammed his fists into his eyes and his voice hitched.
"We call the police and we get you checked out. I know a good doctor."
"Better than you?" the boy sniffled. "Can you stay with me for a while? Until Mommy comes?"
"Yes. I will make some calls and I will see to that." and Ted felt the pang of loss for this innocent little boy.
Flashing lights and noise began to surround them. Ted walked out with Joseph on his hip, his phone to his ear as he dialed his own hero.
"Dad? Need some help..."
The police chief cleared his head from sleepy cobwebs and listened to his step-son as he began to tell.
A little bit longer, but I like the twist. You know I'm all about the twist. I guess because it is never EVER as it seems; whether a person you have known for years or a situation you stumble upon. Face value, is dangerous for both who presents it and who is witness to it.
I'm glad you came by to visit. I enjoy your emails, comments and especially your company. I have a good one rolling around in my head, but must get it on paper first. I'll see you soon for some more good times.
Have a good week.
Tess
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Bad and Good.
He was a jerk. Michael was thoughtless, selfish, needy, careless, and she loved him; fully, passionately, unconditionally. She excused his behavior; laughed when he insulted her. Tina was a fool. It wasn't unusual for him to tell her on a date that he had seen someone better looking than her and wanted to buy the woman a drink. It wasn't uncommon for him to go over and strike up a touchy flirtatious conversation ending with "I'd LOVE to go home with you or have you come home with me but she's just too unstable; too needy. Hell, she'd probably cut herself." If he had a meaningful conversation with Tina, it always ended with the pontification that women were just too weak and stupid. If they would only think with their vaginas and harness that power, they would win the world. Nice and classy.
Should they get to spend a quiet evening at home, Michael would spend it comparing her to the "Beautiful people" on television and listing her physical flaws:
"You, my dear, DEFINITELY would only fit in Business Class seats!" and smack her rump laughing heartily to himself, shaking his head. "Good one" he'd mutter.
Tina would quietly go back to the bedroom, inspecting her backside from all different angles. She would smooth her clothes over her shapely frame, thinking of outfits he would approve of, colors that he liked. If it wasn't a micro skirt with a plummeting front scoop showing all but her nipples and heels that stank of "Come get me", he considered it marmish. This he would declare from behind his cigar or over the top of his grand marnier while scratching his ample stomach. To most women, he was a pig. He could be charming and he was devastatingly handsome, but Michael had somehow mistaken that for a free pass to be a complete douche-canoe. Tina would sigh or smile softly, working desperately to convince herself he only wanted her to be and look her best. For more than three years she did this. I think it was three years. I guess it doesn't matter now. From where I sat, which was upstairs from that sweet lovely girl, I would have loved the opportunity to beat some sense in to that jackass. Countelss nights she would come up to my place, a bottle of alchohol free wine in her hand wiggling her glass a mischievious sideways smile on her pretty mouth.
"Let's totally not get wasted!" she'd hoot and plop down on my couch dumping the grape juice into her elegant glass and taking a hearty swig. I'd sit down next to her and wait.
"Need to vent?"
"Need to scream. Want to commit sin and spend the rest of HIS life in jail."
She gulped again.
"Why do you do this to yourself Doll? Why do you let him do this to you? You are miles above him in class, in looks and in humanity. He has yet to register on the scale. He...
"...be nice..." she would laugh and gulp some more. Tina drank but her rule of thumb was"If I really want it, I drink everything else." I quickly understood the value in this.
"Then I have nothing to say." I would pout and she would giggle again, take a drink
We would flip topics, sigh heavily over our lives and its missteps. We had the relationship she should have had with pathetic Michael. These tender moments when she would lay her head on me and relax; really relax and sleep so sweetly on my chest were burdensome to him. If it wasn't some hip pounding grunting sex fest he was lost to just what a good time was. Tina and I laughed over the news, we spoke of our days, we listened to each other. If not for Michael, we'd have been in love.
I first noticed the sad change when the bottle of wine was real. She passed out on my couch and threw up the next day. I moved her to my bed and kept the blinds closed. I made her a grilled cheese and got her a coke and her sunglasses. She mustered up strength and went out with the putz beccause he had yelled at her for being stupid. He had gotten tickets to something then he proceeded to berate her and tell her how embarrassed he was to be with her because of how awful she looked. He dumped her early, went to console his wounded black heart with another naive lamb and Tina cried in my arms until sunday. We walked through the park that morning. We ate lunch and she laughed. We napped during football games and ordered pizza for supper. She didn't miss his calls or ignore his texts. He made none. He had found something better for now. I tried not to notice her weight loss. I chose not to look at the dark circles under her eyes.. I tried my best to make her smile and I relished her laughter which came less and less frequently.
Michael just kept demanding. He wanted her to be waiting so he could cancel at the last minute. He insulted her openly and spoke so harshly in public that other tables and couples often stared or winced at her mistreatment. She cowered like a beaten dog.
I didn't know who was more pathetic.
Tina came less often and when I WAS blessed with her company, she spoke too softly, avoided my eyes and rushed away like a delicate humingbird. Once in a while Michael would greet me at the door, snear and usher her in. The berage would begin immediately. My blood would boil toward him as my heart broke for her.
Their arguing kept me awake and though I'm not one to talk outside of class, I wonder if he began to use his fists as much as he used his mouth. I heard an awful lot of crying and thumping. It made him smaller in my mind that he would have to physically and metally abuse someone.
That night I thought they were at it again. The door slammed after an ugly exchange. I was drowning my sorrows on the couch, missing my friend, the woman I wanted to hold, protect and love. I waited for her to knock on my door; hopeful that I could mend her wounds; praying I could help her, but it didn't happen. I pouted, drank more and hated Michael. I paced, roamed the halls and cursed him; even fatasized about beating the shit out of him and shouting what an idiot he was for treating her that way before I staggered to my own bed and let the spinning take over.
The pounding on the door forced me to open my eyes. Sunlight stabbed them. There was more yelling. I cupped my head, whispered a vehement "Jesus Christ" and rolled over. It continued and got louder. At last, I dragged myslef from my bed to the door. My brain screamed and threw itself agains my skull in a rumbling pulse, even my hands ached. Each joint in my body seemed to shout at me. Blearily taking a survey of myself, I looked like I had lost a rumble in the jungle. I wandered to the top of the steps and peered over the balcony. "Hey! Can ya keep it to a dull roar you fucked up love birds?" My voice cracked, my throat dry. My lips and body trembled from low blood suger and dehydration. The man in the dark suit threw me. It was a cop. He glowered and me, turned and took the steps two at a time; in front of me before I could retract my statement or retreat to my bed.
"Sir" he stated flatly.
"Hey man. I'm sorry. I didn't know..."
"Didn't know what?"
"You were a cop. I didn't know you were a cop. I apologize. I thought you were the couple downstairs."
"Loud were they?" he watched every move I made like a lion ready to pounce.
"Yeah. To say the least. They were fighting a lot lately. Well he just yells and I think he throws tantrums... I hope that's all he throws.. "
"You think there is domestic abuse?"
"Wouldn't surprise me but it also wouldn't surpise me to hear Tina wouldn't press charges or admit to a single blow"
The eyebrows went up. "Oh? You know Ms. Harkins well?"
I thought quicly about what I'd just said. Had I misspoken? "We are friends."
"Just friends?"
"I'd have loved to date her but she only has eyes for him." I jutted my chin to indicate the voice I heard ~ his.
"I just listened to her rant or vent. I was the friend he should have been."
"Ever argue about that friendship?"
"Huh?"
The officer repeated himself and glared at me. It made me feel heavy, tired and nauseated. I wanted Advil, water, a grilled cheese and my bed. Tina would be nice too. I sighed and rubbed my head. "No. She loves me as a friend. I guess I'm just one of those guys."
"Loved"
"Huh?"
"tina is dead."
"What?" my stomach lurched. My heart raced to the top of my throat. I grabbed the railing. "What do you mean?" I heard my voice raising and getting faster. "When? How did this happen? What are you talking about..." I pushed passed him and rushed down the stairs. Ignoring his shouts for me to stop.
I burst through the door and slid in blood. I grabbed at the doorway and shouted her name. Her body was battered and broken. Her neck at an ugly angle. Her eyes stared flatly at the ceiling.
"Oh JESUS ~ NO TINA NO!" I dropped to my knees and held my face. The tears were hot, burning down my cheeks. I felt bile rise up into my mouth. I lurched for the closest trashcan and got sick. The cops grabbed me dragging me and my precious sick can out into the hall.
'LISTEN you idiot! this is a God Damn crime scene!"
I just slumped recklessly the hall saying her name over and over and heaving into the can; a stupor of shock, sadness and intoxication. My beautiufl friend. My secret love. My Tina.
It was the sound of that bastard's voice that drew me up and back in to this dimension. I almost snapped my neck to catch a glimpse of him. I shouted and rose up. I began to berate him, spilling my rage as violently as I had done my alcohol from the night before. I rushed him and began swinging; demanding to know why he'd done it. Why wasn't it enough to cheat on her, to belittle her in public, to dispise her so openly...
"You had to KILL HER?"
The police yanked at me, ushering me quickly up to my apratment where I sobbed, paced and told them everything I knew and more that I suspected. I shared the secrets Tina and I had kept. When I was done, the police were nodding and flipping looks at each other.
Downstairs, Michael was talking softly. He spoke of her childish behavior, her neediness and possessiveness. He talked about how he had tried to break things off but she was desperate and well... too plain to really have anyone else notice her. He spoke of his chivalrous gifts of attention. He verbally beat her up even though she was broken unrepsonsive on the floor. Nothing new. She was defenseless yet again. His claim was that it had been he who had left after the arument. He'd gone to a strip club to meet a friend but no he didn't know her name. He just called her "Boots".
The reporters were outside already. The case drew quite a bit of local buzz. Michael of course was known in the restaurant world and in all the late night titty bars and slut clubs. All in the biz knew he would pay almost anything for a set of candy apple red lips and big boobs to smear their oiled up bodies on him... and all he'd ever said about Tina was negative and hateful and .. untrue. But it got him some lap dances and a few phone numbers.
I think he was truly shocked to be convicted. I think he thought his pretty smile and charm would set him free. He hired a cute little lawyer and whispered in her ear a lot. she blushed, playfully slapped at him and shook her head. Yet at the end of it all, she went home. He went to jail.
Tina actually had a will. She left me her diary and all of the knick knacks she bought on our silly trips. In her own writing she said she loved me. She knew who the better man was and she was trying to get out. She just couldn't walk away from the bad boy. She thought maybe he would be good and had bet I would understand..
Well those words crushed me. It made me regret that night. The night I went downstairs after Michael had stormed out. The night I argued with her and got mad. The one and only time I did so. I was sad that I had used Michaels scarf to wrap around her throat, furious she didn't love me. I was miserable that I had used her own knife to cut her, pleading with her to make me stop. Remorse cloyed at my heart when I hastily and carelessly used bleach to smear the DNA evidence around, distorting any chance of a true read, and wiping up some of the mess with the shirt I'd seen him come home in. Even a pang of guilt knciked at my heart for leaving leaving the bloody shoes in his closet that I had borrowed the Thursday before. He never knew because, he was never there. Not like me.
Tina thought the bad boy could be good. She was dead wrong.
Gotcha! heehee. I really loved how this turned out. I agree with you. It IS broken and creepy.
:) Thank you for coming over to sit with me a while. I always enjoy it, and you. Until next time.
Should they get to spend a quiet evening at home, Michael would spend it comparing her to the "Beautiful people" on television and listing her physical flaws:
"You, my dear, DEFINITELY would only fit in Business Class seats!" and smack her rump laughing heartily to himself, shaking his head. "Good one" he'd mutter.
Tina would quietly go back to the bedroom, inspecting her backside from all different angles. She would smooth her clothes over her shapely frame, thinking of outfits he would approve of, colors that he liked. If it wasn't a micro skirt with a plummeting front scoop showing all but her nipples and heels that stank of "Come get me", he considered it marmish. This he would declare from behind his cigar or over the top of his grand marnier while scratching his ample stomach. To most women, he was a pig. He could be charming and he was devastatingly handsome, but Michael had somehow mistaken that for a free pass to be a complete douche-canoe. Tina would sigh or smile softly, working desperately to convince herself he only wanted her to be and look her best. For more than three years she did this. I think it was three years. I guess it doesn't matter now. From where I sat, which was upstairs from that sweet lovely girl, I would have loved the opportunity to beat some sense in to that jackass. Countelss nights she would come up to my place, a bottle of alchohol free wine in her hand wiggling her glass a mischievious sideways smile on her pretty mouth.
"Let's totally not get wasted!" she'd hoot and plop down on my couch dumping the grape juice into her elegant glass and taking a hearty swig. I'd sit down next to her and wait.
"Need to vent?"
"Need to scream. Want to commit sin and spend the rest of HIS life in jail."
She gulped again.
"Why do you do this to yourself Doll? Why do you let him do this to you? You are miles above him in class, in looks and in humanity. He has yet to register on the scale. He...
"...be nice..." she would laugh and gulp some more. Tina drank but her rule of thumb was"If I really want it, I drink everything else." I quickly understood the value in this.
"Then I have nothing to say." I would pout and she would giggle again, take a drink
We would flip topics, sigh heavily over our lives and its missteps. We had the relationship she should have had with pathetic Michael. These tender moments when she would lay her head on me and relax; really relax and sleep so sweetly on my chest were burdensome to him. If it wasn't some hip pounding grunting sex fest he was lost to just what a good time was. Tina and I laughed over the news, we spoke of our days, we listened to each other. If not for Michael, we'd have been in love.
I first noticed the sad change when the bottle of wine was real. She passed out on my couch and threw up the next day. I moved her to my bed and kept the blinds closed. I made her a grilled cheese and got her a coke and her sunglasses. She mustered up strength and went out with the putz beccause he had yelled at her for being stupid. He had gotten tickets to something then he proceeded to berate her and tell her how embarrassed he was to be with her because of how awful she looked. He dumped her early, went to console his wounded black heart with another naive lamb and Tina cried in my arms until sunday. We walked through the park that morning. We ate lunch and she laughed. We napped during football games and ordered pizza for supper. She didn't miss his calls or ignore his texts. He made none. He had found something better for now. I tried not to notice her weight loss. I chose not to look at the dark circles under her eyes.. I tried my best to make her smile and I relished her laughter which came less and less frequently.
Michael just kept demanding. He wanted her to be waiting so he could cancel at the last minute. He insulted her openly and spoke so harshly in public that other tables and couples often stared or winced at her mistreatment. She cowered like a beaten dog.
I didn't know who was more pathetic.
Tina came less often and when I WAS blessed with her company, she spoke too softly, avoided my eyes and rushed away like a delicate humingbird. Once in a while Michael would greet me at the door, snear and usher her in. The berage would begin immediately. My blood would boil toward him as my heart broke for her.
Their arguing kept me awake and though I'm not one to talk outside of class, I wonder if he began to use his fists as much as he used his mouth. I heard an awful lot of crying and thumping. It made him smaller in my mind that he would have to physically and metally abuse someone.
That night I thought they were at it again. The door slammed after an ugly exchange. I was drowning my sorrows on the couch, missing my friend, the woman I wanted to hold, protect and love. I waited for her to knock on my door; hopeful that I could mend her wounds; praying I could help her, but it didn't happen. I pouted, drank more and hated Michael. I paced, roamed the halls and cursed him; even fatasized about beating the shit out of him and shouting what an idiot he was for treating her that way before I staggered to my own bed and let the spinning take over.
The pounding on the door forced me to open my eyes. Sunlight stabbed them. There was more yelling. I cupped my head, whispered a vehement "Jesus Christ" and rolled over. It continued and got louder. At last, I dragged myslef from my bed to the door. My brain screamed and threw itself agains my skull in a rumbling pulse, even my hands ached. Each joint in my body seemed to shout at me. Blearily taking a survey of myself, I looked like I had lost a rumble in the jungle. I wandered to the top of the steps and peered over the balcony. "Hey! Can ya keep it to a dull roar you fucked up love birds?" My voice cracked, my throat dry. My lips and body trembled from low blood suger and dehydration. The man in the dark suit threw me. It was a cop. He glowered and me, turned and took the steps two at a time; in front of me before I could retract my statement or retreat to my bed.
"Sir" he stated flatly.
"Hey man. I'm sorry. I didn't know..."
"Didn't know what?"
"You were a cop. I didn't know you were a cop. I apologize. I thought you were the couple downstairs."
"Loud were they?" he watched every move I made like a lion ready to pounce.
"Yeah. To say the least. They were fighting a lot lately. Well he just yells and I think he throws tantrums... I hope that's all he throws.. "
"You think there is domestic abuse?"
"Wouldn't surprise me but it also wouldn't surpise me to hear Tina wouldn't press charges or admit to a single blow"
The eyebrows went up. "Oh? You know Ms. Harkins well?"
I thought quicly about what I'd just said. Had I misspoken? "We are friends."
"Just friends?"
"I'd have loved to date her but she only has eyes for him." I jutted my chin to indicate the voice I heard ~ his.
"I just listened to her rant or vent. I was the friend he should have been."
"Ever argue about that friendship?"
"Huh?"
The officer repeated himself and glared at me. It made me feel heavy, tired and nauseated. I wanted Advil, water, a grilled cheese and my bed. Tina would be nice too. I sighed and rubbed my head. "No. She loves me as a friend. I guess I'm just one of those guys."
"Loved"
"Huh?"
"tina is dead."
"What?" my stomach lurched. My heart raced to the top of my throat. I grabbed the railing. "What do you mean?" I heard my voice raising and getting faster. "When? How did this happen? What are you talking about..." I pushed passed him and rushed down the stairs. Ignoring his shouts for me to stop.
I burst through the door and slid in blood. I grabbed at the doorway and shouted her name. Her body was battered and broken. Her neck at an ugly angle. Her eyes stared flatly at the ceiling.
"Oh JESUS ~ NO TINA NO!" I dropped to my knees and held my face. The tears were hot, burning down my cheeks. I felt bile rise up into my mouth. I lurched for the closest trashcan and got sick. The cops grabbed me dragging me and my precious sick can out into the hall.
'LISTEN you idiot! this is a God Damn crime scene!"
I just slumped recklessly the hall saying her name over and over and heaving into the can; a stupor of shock, sadness and intoxication. My beautiufl friend. My secret love. My Tina.
It was the sound of that bastard's voice that drew me up and back in to this dimension. I almost snapped my neck to catch a glimpse of him. I shouted and rose up. I began to berate him, spilling my rage as violently as I had done my alcohol from the night before. I rushed him and began swinging; demanding to know why he'd done it. Why wasn't it enough to cheat on her, to belittle her in public, to dispise her so openly...
"You had to KILL HER?"
The police yanked at me, ushering me quickly up to my apratment where I sobbed, paced and told them everything I knew and more that I suspected. I shared the secrets Tina and I had kept. When I was done, the police were nodding and flipping looks at each other.
Downstairs, Michael was talking softly. He spoke of her childish behavior, her neediness and possessiveness. He talked about how he had tried to break things off but she was desperate and well... too plain to really have anyone else notice her. He spoke of his chivalrous gifts of attention. He verbally beat her up even though she was broken unrepsonsive on the floor. Nothing new. She was defenseless yet again. His claim was that it had been he who had left after the arument. He'd gone to a strip club to meet a friend but no he didn't know her name. He just called her "Boots".
The reporters were outside already. The case drew quite a bit of local buzz. Michael of course was known in the restaurant world and in all the late night titty bars and slut clubs. All in the biz knew he would pay almost anything for a set of candy apple red lips and big boobs to smear their oiled up bodies on him... and all he'd ever said about Tina was negative and hateful and .. untrue. But it got him some lap dances and a few phone numbers.
I think he was truly shocked to be convicted. I think he thought his pretty smile and charm would set him free. He hired a cute little lawyer and whispered in her ear a lot. she blushed, playfully slapped at him and shook her head. Yet at the end of it all, she went home. He went to jail.
Tina actually had a will. She left me her diary and all of the knick knacks she bought on our silly trips. In her own writing she said she loved me. She knew who the better man was and she was trying to get out. She just couldn't walk away from the bad boy. She thought maybe he would be good and had bet I would understand..
Well those words crushed me. It made me regret that night. The night I went downstairs after Michael had stormed out. The night I argued with her and got mad. The one and only time I did so. I was sad that I had used Michaels scarf to wrap around her throat, furious she didn't love me. I was miserable that I had used her own knife to cut her, pleading with her to make me stop. Remorse cloyed at my heart when I hastily and carelessly used bleach to smear the DNA evidence around, distorting any chance of a true read, and wiping up some of the mess with the shirt I'd seen him come home in. Even a pang of guilt knciked at my heart for leaving leaving the bloody shoes in his closet that I had borrowed the Thursday before. He never knew because, he was never there. Not like me.
Tina thought the bad boy could be good. She was dead wrong.
Gotcha! heehee. I really loved how this turned out. I agree with you. It IS broken and creepy.
:) Thank you for coming over to sit with me a while. I always enjoy it, and you. Until next time.
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Vacation
I went away for a few days not thinking it would be such a production or that I would spend as much time working as I did. That was a great disappointment and extreme disruption to myself and my friends. I have been pushed to the brink at work and have had to have many sit-downs with Cheech as to whether or not to continue down this particular avenue . Of course, we tried to discuss this at length, but I had to stop to take some work calls and answer emails...
but blog etiquette is "Thou shalt not *itch" so while I was thoroughly disappointed at these daily meteor showers on my sunny good time, there was an opportunity for me where NO ONE could get to me and I rushed to take it.
I went hang gliding.
heehee it makes me giggle to even type it. Me. I did it. Well, It was hang gliding but they had an ultralight engine on the back. Okay it kinda looked like I sat in a lawn chair with a fan behind me; but 2300 feet in the air and then cut the engine to swoop the old light house and then roller coaster down across the Mexican sand dunes and then out over the Arch and across the Sea of Cortez told me it was a little more than that. My pilot was fantastic and made me so comfortable that I squealed like a little girl at recess; clapping and smiling so hard that my teeth are STILL dry. We rode tandem so I was even able to float my arms out in a Leonardo DiCaprio moment and truly be "Queen of the World".
This was nothing short of amazing and fabulous; all coming from the woman who doesn't like to fly. HA! What an incredible adventure and rush. It made my trip!
As did the sunny 90 degree weather, the infinity pools overlooking the ocean, the fantastic food we had both in the exquisite restaurants and dive bars but since I was with some of the best people on this Earth, it would take more than a few phone calls and emails to totally wreck this marvelous time.
Now for the giggle and point segment:
We went to an upscale new place and were surrounded by "Beautiful people" (just ask em) Chock full of cute little bunnies in Kim Kardashian shoes who stumbled due to the six inch heels and drinks being tossed down as fast as could be on flat little tummies that hadn't seen food since the previous Sunday. Now, they are adorable little things but when you put on those shoes and wear bippy shirts as dresses so that it is physically impossible to tuck your hair behind your ears and NOT show everyone your fresh Brazilian wax job... you lose a little bit of class. Actually it zooms out the window faster than a gum wrapper while traveling the Audubon in a convertible. Of course they are seated to our right and are clinking their glasses and loudly "WOO"-ing everything from "It's Saturday" and "We'll be friends forever" to "I got a straw" and "There's a lemon in my water"
We began to giggle and point and think of things for them to toast: underpants topping the list. THEN one of them decided she was tired... or uncomfortable or in pants because she put her legs on the bench seat she was parked in, and propped one knee up. WAY up. Oh yeah, she pulled a Sharon Stone and my husband almost spit his drink and fell out of his chair. We immediately began to play speed-charades with our friends to share our fantastic new view so as not to bring attention to ourselves. We failed and so I leaned forward to say "Our view is very different than yours" Of course at this precise moment, the band stopped playing and my voice was the loudest in the room.
"WOO!"
Then to our left was the bachelorette party. The bride to be was in... a napkin while her bridal party wore Tootsie roll wrappers. Very elegant. Lots of clinking but less "Woo"-ing. The Mother in law must have just had some lip plumping done to go along with her new "ninnies" that were hiked up so high under chin; much higher would have caused hearing impairment. Anyway, she seemed to be having some difficulty drinking with her new pouty mouth because she needed a lobster bib and lots of napkins. Thank God for the dress of the bride. They pulled right off and SHE got more drinks. The one seated closest to my poor overstimulated husband had a fetish: she insisted on tuning her nipple like a radio dial. Apparently she was having trouble getting a station. Cheech would have helped her I'm sure. Opera? Jazz? Latino rhythms? Nay ~ my man does TALK radio....Anyone got a "porn yeah" for me? YyyyyyEAhhhhhhh.....
And last but not least was the blue moon: no secret there. A woman of about my age who had been doing shots of tequila at the bar since we had arrived and was now "seated for dinner" which was basically lemons and salt: "WOO!" someone must have made a comment to her about the lack of material to her dress and how short it was. Whenever the waiters came with more shots, she would reach for the glass and need to tug her dress down. Anyhow, in her Cuervo haze, she stood up and announced "THIS short" and mooned her friends. and the restaurant. The "ladies" to our right toasted her with a loud "WOO"
Our bill came.
"WOO"
then the taxi
"WOO-HOO!"
and at last our lovely balcony with the ocean calming waving good night.
woo.
but blog etiquette is "Thou shalt not *itch" so while I was thoroughly disappointed at these daily meteor showers on my sunny good time, there was an opportunity for me where NO ONE could get to me and I rushed to take it.
I went hang gliding.
heehee it makes me giggle to even type it. Me. I did it. Well, It was hang gliding but they had an ultralight engine on the back. Okay it kinda looked like I sat in a lawn chair with a fan behind me; but 2300 feet in the air and then cut the engine to swoop the old light house and then roller coaster down across the Mexican sand dunes and then out over the Arch and across the Sea of Cortez told me it was a little more than that. My pilot was fantastic and made me so comfortable that I squealed like a little girl at recess; clapping and smiling so hard that my teeth are STILL dry. We rode tandem so I was even able to float my arms out in a Leonardo DiCaprio moment and truly be "Queen of the World".
 |
| if you look closely: no headphones =no engine! Free falling baby! |
 |
| after the roller coaster tour of the dunes, we jetted back up with the birds. |
 |
| buzzing "lovers beach" and "land's end" the top water is the Pacific and below us is the Sea of Cortez. Yes I was squealing and clapping. |
This was nothing short of amazing and fabulous; all coming from the woman who doesn't like to fly. HA! What an incredible adventure and rush. It made my trip!
As did the sunny 90 degree weather, the infinity pools overlooking the ocean, the fantastic food we had both in the exquisite restaurants and dive bars but since I was with some of the best people on this Earth, it would take more than a few phone calls and emails to totally wreck this marvelous time.
Now for the giggle and point segment:
We went to an upscale new place and were surrounded by "Beautiful people" (just ask em) Chock full of cute little bunnies in Kim Kardashian shoes who stumbled due to the six inch heels and drinks being tossed down as fast as could be on flat little tummies that hadn't seen food since the previous Sunday. Now, they are adorable little things but when you put on those shoes and wear bippy shirts as dresses so that it is physically impossible to tuck your hair behind your ears and NOT show everyone your fresh Brazilian wax job... you lose a little bit of class. Actually it zooms out the window faster than a gum wrapper while traveling the Audubon in a convertible. Of course they are seated to our right and are clinking their glasses and loudly "WOO"-ing everything from "It's Saturday" and "We'll be friends forever" to "I got a straw" and "There's a lemon in my water"
We began to giggle and point and think of things for them to toast: underpants topping the list. THEN one of them decided she was tired... or uncomfortable or in pants because she put her legs on the bench seat she was parked in, and propped one knee up. WAY up. Oh yeah, she pulled a Sharon Stone and my husband almost spit his drink and fell out of his chair. We immediately began to play speed-charades with our friends to share our fantastic new view so as not to bring attention to ourselves. We failed and so I leaned forward to say "Our view is very different than yours" Of course at this precise moment, the band stopped playing and my voice was the loudest in the room.
"WOO!"
Then to our left was the bachelorette party. The bride to be was in... a napkin while her bridal party wore Tootsie roll wrappers. Very elegant. Lots of clinking but less "Woo"-ing. The Mother in law must have just had some lip plumping done to go along with her new "ninnies" that were hiked up so high under chin; much higher would have caused hearing impairment. Anyway, she seemed to be having some difficulty drinking with her new pouty mouth because she needed a lobster bib and lots of napkins. Thank God for the dress of the bride. They pulled right off and SHE got more drinks. The one seated closest to my poor overstimulated husband had a fetish: she insisted on tuning her nipple like a radio dial. Apparently she was having trouble getting a station. Cheech would have helped her I'm sure. Opera? Jazz? Latino rhythms? Nay ~ my man does TALK radio....Anyone got a "porn yeah" for me? YyyyyyEAhhhhhhh.....
And last but not least was the blue moon: no secret there. A woman of about my age who had been doing shots of tequila at the bar since we had arrived and was now "seated for dinner" which was basically lemons and salt: "WOO!" someone must have made a comment to her about the lack of material to her dress and how short it was. Whenever the waiters came with more shots, she would reach for the glass and need to tug her dress down. Anyhow, in her Cuervo haze, she stood up and announced "THIS short" and mooned her friends. and the restaurant. The "ladies" to our right toasted her with a loud "WOO"
Our bill came.
"WOO"
then the taxi
"WOO-HOO!"
and at last our lovely balcony with the ocean calming waving good night.
woo.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Holy Crap! I didn't forget you. Just been crazy busy and went away for a few days. Wait just WAIT til you hear what I did!!! LOL some of you will have much to say about it... others... just smile alongside of me.
My intentions are to hide away this weekend and write until my nubbies fall off. I can't wait. I have one that I believe will be really good and another that is fighting me a little but WANTS to be awesome. I swear, sometimes I feel like these stories are like children!
Anyway, hang on. It's almost the weekend and we ALL love the sound of that.
I've missed you guys too. Thanks for checking in on me. Hope you can sit with me soon.
Be good to you.
Love,
Tess
My intentions are to hide away this weekend and write until my nubbies fall off. I can't wait. I have one that I believe will be really good and another that is fighting me a little but WANTS to be awesome. I swear, sometimes I feel like these stories are like children!
Anyway, hang on. It's almost the weekend and we ALL love the sound of that.
I've missed you guys too. Thanks for checking in on me. Hope you can sit with me soon.
Be good to you.
Love,
Tess
Sunday, October 6, 2013
A chat about bad dreams
It loomed over the woman's bed. Carol was paralyzed. The creature lowered itself next to her, its breath warm and foul. Three overly long fingers reached up to pull back the blanket she had childishly scooched under to cover her head as if playing peek-a-boo. It sighed; a gurgling wet noise, then spoke:
"I'm not the monster you have made me. No one is ever meant to get hurt but sometimes you see, there is collateral damage. Is it any different for your big business that gobbles up the small independent boutiques? You shrug and say that is the cost of business or Capitalism. Is it any less bloody when what flows all too freely is red or green? It is what you call survival. Is the fear any less real whether it is to lose a livelihood or a life? It is what you should realize is truth.
I am the bogeyman, living under the bed or in the closet I believe your lore states. This is not true. I live in your mind. You give me power and when I can no longer work with you, I must move on. There is no guarantee where my next home will be or when I will find it, so I must make sure I have enough to live on. Sound familiar? You struggle with your economy every day in this manner. Unless you are part of your government. Then rules don't apply.
So I am MUCH better than a politician. Give me that? I am appealing to your adult logic, in case you hadn't noticed because to deal with what you "remember" as a child is useless for our discussion. You fight for predators in the wild. You demand room on this planet for all creatures great and small.... like it or not, I am one.
When you were a child, Carol, you and I met. You insisted I lived on the top shelf in your dressing closet at the little house on the avenue. Do you remember?"
The woman was too afraid to move.
"Carol~ the thing about dialogue is that it is between TWO. Do you remember?" It leaned forward and spoke more slowly, slightly irritated; its mouth pulling and tearing small holes of light through its dark body.
Carol found the strength to nod which pleased the beast and it sat back, continuing to speak.
"Right, good. So we met and you didn't like me. I tried very hard not to scare you. I came to you when you were in your deepest sleep. I watched you for days. I wasn't sure if you were up to giving what I needed from you but you have proven to be helpful Carol; very helpful and I am grateful for all you have given. I know it hasn't always been easy. Dreams are never easy to give up"
It reached out and affectionately attempted to pat her hand. This time however, the woman recoiled and a whimper snuck from her throat.
"Now, now. Don't be a sissy pants. I am not new to you Carol. I have always been here. I am trying to be reasonable and help us work better together. We have been together for so very long and I just hate to think that like "THAT"....
~ its hand shot up as if to catch a fly. The woman jumped. Her eyes were wide and round.
"We would have to... terminate... our... association and I would have to go elsewhere to live." The words were deliberate and clear.
Carol shivered.
"You understand me Carol? I believe you do. I know how hard it is for you to use verbiage sometimes. What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"
A wicked wry smile slid across the space where a face should have been. The creature rarely took a consistent shape, preferring instead, to morph and shift. The eye-wholes acted like LED lights, changing from pale red to a soft white depending on the inference of the diction: angry or threatening was red, needy, coy or coaxing was the lighter. There was no nose and it's mouth appeared only when it needed to speak or eat. Then a gash that was filled with tiny, zipper-spaced teeth held in by strands of shadows... or flesh.... appeared. It almost never spoke to Carol. Not at first. It would only come in her dreams and act as a shadow. Then it began to feed. It gnawed at her mind during her sleep leaving fragmented nightmares and disjointed incoherent thoughts. She eventually began to see it most everywhere she went; the shadow man, this bogeyman. It devoured her sanity over the course of her life, leaving her with inaccurate bogus diagnoses of mental disorder which launched her in and out of hospitals. It crippled Carol but refused to let her go to just be broken somewhere and finish her life. It insSISTED on staying with her, feeding from her.
"So we come to the point of our chat." it bubbled through its gummy lips.
It scooted closer and placed its limbs on either side of the woman. It seemed to sniff her, evaluating its next move carefully.
"I can't have you not dreaming Carol. Your insomnia is killing me. Literally. You need to fix that Carol and soon. Or I will have to take drastic measures. Do you recall the LAST time I took drastic measures?"
The mass leaned in so close that it drenched the woman in the cold of night. Carol felt the cold slimy tendrils of horror slide under her skin and creep in between her veins as it waltzed in to her, simply making room in her body for itself; not unlike a child that scoots in between two parents on a couch....a tantrum-ish "Make room for me" wiggle. Nausea and bile scurried up her throat like a hot spiking scream. She twisted and shuddered in her bed, the sick eventually spilling out on to the floor.
"Carol." it tsked in an acidic whisper. "You know what tantrums get you? Nothing but heartache" and it proved it to her by resting a hand on her chest. The woman gasped and arched against the pain. The tears were hot and frustrated, streaming her cheeks. The monster smiled and drank them almost tenderly.
"Sleep Carol.It's what we all need to survive." It sighed softly and stroked the woman's sweaty brow.
Carol heard rustling outside the door and from beyond the window a bird began to wake and sing. The monster shrugged sadly and drifted away, melting into what was left of the midnight shadows appearing now only as an outline of the windowpane along the wall as day broke.
Angrily the woman clutched the sheets. She swiped at her mouth on the pillowcase and turned her body to the side. More tears came.
It wasn't long before she heard footsteps outside her door and the clack of her chart as the doctor reviewed it, muttering softly while the night nurse spoke of the patient's continued restlessness and "night terrors". Carol could imagine the doctor's face as he shook his head, discouraged. The knob twisted and he strode in with a fake cheerful voice and friendly disposition.
"Good morning Sunshi...Ooops seems you had another seizure last night and got a little sick. I'll have Nancy take care of you here... NANCY~ "
The night nurse came in and gazed at the disheveled, dirty woman and sighed. "I'll take care of her right away. Carol honey, sit tight. I'll get you some clean things."
The doctor went to the clean side of the room and pulled up a chair. "Carol? Nancy says you have been very restless in your sleep. "
Carol rolled her exhausted eyes slowly toward him. Her voice almost a squeak. "Not sleeping" she whispered.
"Yes. Well how about if I help you with that? I can write for something to help you sleep."
The woman spewed forth a new wave of tears.
"Carol. It's all right to need a little help sleeping. Your chart says it's been days. It's not healthy for you. You want to get better right? You want to go home to your family? I'm sure your daughter misses you very much Carol."
A sob hitched in her dry throat. The man wiped at her brow and smiled. "I know you do. You've been through an awful lot. It's normal to have bad dreams and fight sleep. Do you want to talk about the bad dreams? Is it the bogeyman?" He chuffed a little as if he were trying to soothe a frightened child.
Nancy had returned and tossed open the window to relieve some of the stink as she effortlessly changed Carol's clothing to soft pants and a "have a day" tee shirt. A slight breeze puffed through the room and shifted the shadows.
"Something to help me sleep." she said slowly watching the shapes shift in the room as if waiting.
The man smiled and wrote something down and flipped a look at Nancy. He clicked his pen and stood abruptly.
"I'm glad we had this chat Carol. You will feel so much better."
He turned back to her and leaned in closely.
"We'll all feel better Carol." he hissed. She glanced up to see his eyes flash a soft subtle white as the retinas and pupils melted away like cookies drowning in milk.
"Carol.."Nancy interjected causing the doctor to stiffen and brush passed her.
"Carol, Megan is here..." but there was a high pitched giggle and squeal and the little girl jumped in to the room and on to the bed .
"Moooooommy!" the little girl buried her face in the shoulder of the restrained, "damaged" woman. "Oh Mommy, I couldn't wait to get here. I had SUCH bad dreams last night! The bogeyman came and he sat on my bed and he spoke to me~ Oh Mommy it was SO awful! He came AGAIN! I want him to stay away forever! I HATE THE BOGEYMAN!"
And tears dripped down her smooth tiny face off her little pudgy nose."
"Me too, Doll. But I will sleep tonight and I will have a chat with him about bad dreams."
And when the visit was over, the little girl perky and reassured, Carol lay silently watching the sun slowly backed away from the day making room for darker things.
"I'm not the monster you have made me. No one is ever meant to get hurt but sometimes you see, there is collateral damage. Is it any different for your big business that gobbles up the small independent boutiques? You shrug and say that is the cost of business or Capitalism. Is it any less bloody when what flows all too freely is red or green? It is what you call survival. Is the fear any less real whether it is to lose a livelihood or a life? It is what you should realize is truth.
I am the bogeyman, living under the bed or in the closet I believe your lore states. This is not true. I live in your mind. You give me power and when I can no longer work with you, I must move on. There is no guarantee where my next home will be or when I will find it, so I must make sure I have enough to live on. Sound familiar? You struggle with your economy every day in this manner. Unless you are part of your government. Then rules don't apply.
So I am MUCH better than a politician. Give me that? I am appealing to your adult logic, in case you hadn't noticed because to deal with what you "remember" as a child is useless for our discussion. You fight for predators in the wild. You demand room on this planet for all creatures great and small.... like it or not, I am one.
When you were a child, Carol, you and I met. You insisted I lived on the top shelf in your dressing closet at the little house on the avenue. Do you remember?"
The woman was too afraid to move.
"Carol~ the thing about dialogue is that it is between TWO. Do you remember?" It leaned forward and spoke more slowly, slightly irritated; its mouth pulling and tearing small holes of light through its dark body.
Carol found the strength to nod which pleased the beast and it sat back, continuing to speak.
"Right, good. So we met and you didn't like me. I tried very hard not to scare you. I came to you when you were in your deepest sleep. I watched you for days. I wasn't sure if you were up to giving what I needed from you but you have proven to be helpful Carol; very helpful and I am grateful for all you have given. I know it hasn't always been easy. Dreams are never easy to give up"
It reached out and affectionately attempted to pat her hand. This time however, the woman recoiled and a whimper snuck from her throat.
"Now, now. Don't be a sissy pants. I am not new to you Carol. I have always been here. I am trying to be reasonable and help us work better together. We have been together for so very long and I just hate to think that like "THAT"....
~ its hand shot up as if to catch a fly. The woman jumped. Her eyes were wide and round.
"We would have to... terminate... our... association and I would have to go elsewhere to live." The words were deliberate and clear.
Carol shivered.
"You understand me Carol? I believe you do. I know how hard it is for you to use verbiage sometimes. What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"
A wicked wry smile slid across the space where a face should have been. The creature rarely took a consistent shape, preferring instead, to morph and shift. The eye-wholes acted like LED lights, changing from pale red to a soft white depending on the inference of the diction: angry or threatening was red, needy, coy or coaxing was the lighter. There was no nose and it's mouth appeared only when it needed to speak or eat. Then a gash that was filled with tiny, zipper-spaced teeth held in by strands of shadows... or flesh.... appeared. It almost never spoke to Carol. Not at first. It would only come in her dreams and act as a shadow. Then it began to feed. It gnawed at her mind during her sleep leaving fragmented nightmares and disjointed incoherent thoughts. She eventually began to see it most everywhere she went; the shadow man, this bogeyman. It devoured her sanity over the course of her life, leaving her with inaccurate bogus diagnoses of mental disorder which launched her in and out of hospitals. It crippled Carol but refused to let her go to just be broken somewhere and finish her life. It insSISTED on staying with her, feeding from her.
"So we come to the point of our chat." it bubbled through its gummy lips.
It scooted closer and placed its limbs on either side of the woman. It seemed to sniff her, evaluating its next move carefully.
"I can't have you not dreaming Carol. Your insomnia is killing me. Literally. You need to fix that Carol and soon. Or I will have to take drastic measures. Do you recall the LAST time I took drastic measures?"
The mass leaned in so close that it drenched the woman in the cold of night. Carol felt the cold slimy tendrils of horror slide under her skin and creep in between her veins as it waltzed in to her, simply making room in her body for itself; not unlike a child that scoots in between two parents on a couch....a tantrum-ish "Make room for me" wiggle. Nausea and bile scurried up her throat like a hot spiking scream. She twisted and shuddered in her bed, the sick eventually spilling out on to the floor.
"Carol." it tsked in an acidic whisper. "You know what tantrums get you? Nothing but heartache" and it proved it to her by resting a hand on her chest. The woman gasped and arched against the pain. The tears were hot and frustrated, streaming her cheeks. The monster smiled and drank them almost tenderly.
"Sleep Carol.It's what we all need to survive." It sighed softly and stroked the woman's sweaty brow.
Carol heard rustling outside the door and from beyond the window a bird began to wake and sing. The monster shrugged sadly and drifted away, melting into what was left of the midnight shadows appearing now only as an outline of the windowpane along the wall as day broke.
Angrily the woman clutched the sheets. She swiped at her mouth on the pillowcase and turned her body to the side. More tears came.
It wasn't long before she heard footsteps outside her door and the clack of her chart as the doctor reviewed it, muttering softly while the night nurse spoke of the patient's continued restlessness and "night terrors". Carol could imagine the doctor's face as he shook his head, discouraged. The knob twisted and he strode in with a fake cheerful voice and friendly disposition.
"Good morning Sunshi...Ooops seems you had another seizure last night and got a little sick. I'll have Nancy take care of you here... NANCY~ "
The night nurse came in and gazed at the disheveled, dirty woman and sighed. "I'll take care of her right away. Carol honey, sit tight. I'll get you some clean things."
The doctor went to the clean side of the room and pulled up a chair. "Carol? Nancy says you have been very restless in your sleep. "
Carol rolled her exhausted eyes slowly toward him. Her voice almost a squeak. "Not sleeping" she whispered.
"Yes. Well how about if I help you with that? I can write for something to help you sleep."
The woman spewed forth a new wave of tears.
"Carol. It's all right to need a little help sleeping. Your chart says it's been days. It's not healthy for you. You want to get better right? You want to go home to your family? I'm sure your daughter misses you very much Carol."
A sob hitched in her dry throat. The man wiped at her brow and smiled. "I know you do. You've been through an awful lot. It's normal to have bad dreams and fight sleep. Do you want to talk about the bad dreams? Is it the bogeyman?" He chuffed a little as if he were trying to soothe a frightened child.
Nancy had returned and tossed open the window to relieve some of the stink as she effortlessly changed Carol's clothing to soft pants and a "have a day" tee shirt. A slight breeze puffed through the room and shifted the shadows.
"Something to help me sleep." she said slowly watching the shapes shift in the room as if waiting.
The man smiled and wrote something down and flipped a look at Nancy. He clicked his pen and stood abruptly.
"I'm glad we had this chat Carol. You will feel so much better."
He turned back to her and leaned in closely.
"We'll all feel better Carol." he hissed. She glanced up to see his eyes flash a soft subtle white as the retinas and pupils melted away like cookies drowning in milk.
"Carol.."Nancy interjected causing the doctor to stiffen and brush passed her.
"Carol, Megan is here..." but there was a high pitched giggle and squeal and the little girl jumped in to the room and on to the bed .
"Moooooommy!" the little girl buried her face in the shoulder of the restrained, "damaged" woman. "Oh Mommy, I couldn't wait to get here. I had SUCH bad dreams last night! The bogeyman came and he sat on my bed and he spoke to me~ Oh Mommy it was SO awful! He came AGAIN! I want him to stay away forever! I HATE THE BOGEYMAN!"
And tears dripped down her smooth tiny face off her little pudgy nose."
"Me too, Doll. But I will sleep tonight and I will have a chat with him about bad dreams."
And when the visit was over, the little girl perky and reassured, Carol lay silently watching the sun slowly backed away from the day making room for darker things.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)