Just One More

Well, I missed my post this passed week and I know it isn't an excuse but I was ... laid up.. or laid out... which ever you prefer after laughing at my stubbornness.

I had worked ahead and was able to take a MUCH desired/needed day off. I was super excited to be doing a neat little surprise for Cheech: ripping out the front flowerbed, filling it in ,covering it with weed paper and using pea gravel as the filler with cute little "things"  in it.  With our frequent trips to Promises, too many flower beds becomes overwhelming so I just eliminated one. Yay me. 

Well I stole the truck and headed out;  made the first stop and picked up 2x40lb dirt, 6x50lb pea gravel.  The lady who rang me up asked if I wanted help. I hesitated but realizing there would be multiple trips ... agreed. A man came out to help me.  He looked like a medieval mistral with a long bowl cut (to the chin) that actually curled under.  But beggars can't be choosers so I was glad to have someone help me hoist the bags.  Off I went.

I got home and put dirt in the gaping hole where our Chinese red maple used to be. Hmmm not enough. I lay out my bags of pea gravel and headed back. Second trip. This time 4x40lbs of dirt and 8x50lbs of pea gravel.  Different helper but we got it loaded and I was grateful.

DOMMIT! It STILL wasn't enough. Well I was glad to have filled in the hole and gotten the weed paper down. Little victories need celebration too. So I went inside and made a sandwich.  I contemplated my options and headed out for the third trip.

12x50lbs of pea gravel. This got looks: one because I looked like a little vagabond with my flannel shirt and jeans that with each trip got progressively dirtier and two... well it looked like I was burying something; or... yeah well... that's just ME and MY thought process. So the third time's a charm right? So they say.  Well this guy is ticked that he has 12 x 50lb bags to haul and he doesn't understand when I grab half and wait.  Thinking like the other two guys, he'll grab it and we will split the bags.  Nope. He's a macho man and lifts them alone.  Well, I don't want to have him do it all by himself so I grab a couple.  NOW he's ticked that a WOMAN is helping so he picks up the pace to load MORE than me. Really? You are that fragile man? C'mon. I'm a middle aged mom standing here in a flannel and dirt covered jeans. Reach deep within your pride and pull out the sliver of common sense that is nagging at you and just split the friggin bags with me....

Nope. Man. Lift. Heavy. Stuff.

Whatever.

So I get in the car and I drive away for the last bundle.  I have loaded almost 35 bags of heavy crap and am down to the last three. Yay me. It's going great. It's all coming together. I'm gonna succeed and THEN some today! Yeah baby GO GO Go.....

tweak.

I reached in to the truck and pulled the corner of the 3rd to the last bag. It was as if a cruel little gnome jumped up and pinched my back. In fact folks, I turned around just to make sure.  Then I got that pucker ... that "Ohhhh nononononoooooo don't hurt my back DON'T HURT MY BACK..." and I stood still frozen in that position like it would fall off me or if I stayed still it would shoo away like a bee or something.  I slowly began to move... nothing. No pain.  I bent down with my spine straight as an arrow... nothing... no pain.  I did cute little baby yoga moves... No  pain, no resistance.. I shrug and think "Huh.. lucky I guess." and I proceed.  Bag 3... nothing. Feeling good.  Bag 2... hey... little tight back there....Bag 1... Holy Mother of God just drop this thing and pray you walk again with the aid of a dog sled team or electrical charges to your spine. I do the smart thing (uh yeah NOW) and leave the lifting behind.... after I empty all the bags because it isn't REALLY lifting, it's slicing and tugging.. all the weight falls out of the bag. See my logic? Then I go and weed. THIS isn't damaging because I stand or sit very straight and lean like I do in yoga... like a board has been inserted... I rake because there is not weight and I am using my arms not my back... I finish and realize I am gasping for air like a guppy out of its tank. I want to go inside. It is nearly impossible to move.  I am alone in the driveway, the neighborhood, seemingly the world and I "Tim Conway" walk up the steps (For those of you too young: I looked like had a big ole load in my drawers)  in to the house and stand in the kitchen where I begin to cry; softly because sobbing makes me hiccup ... and that hurts my back.

I call Cheech and explain.

"You are too damn stubborn for your own GOOD woman!" he sighs. "Are you alright?"

"Yes." I say weakly. I am trying to figure out how I will climb the steps to get the ice bag and heating pad.  I think it would be easier to lean against the open freezer and the dryer while it's running.

He comes home with medicine for me. I don't want it. I hate meds but I realize to the amusement of my children that my back is spasming so painfully that I sound like I'm shouting for about 30% of my words:

"Please PASS the chi-CKEN" and twisting like I have been shocked with a cattle prod.

Lovely vision isn't it?

I take the meds and go to bed. I sleep the sleep of ... a tired injured middle aged woman ... I'm sure there was some SERIOUS snoring and drooling.

The morning brings stiffness but no real pain. I stretch and find my breathing is normal not chokes and gasps.This is awesome.  So I round up the kids and we get wheelbarrows and hump three cubic yards of dirt.  Do you know how much that is? My back sure did and it told me so.

My daughter and son were so mad they called their friend who came and yelled at me and took my job away from me. Those kids worked aaaaaall day. I was so in love with them.

I went to bed. I took the meds. I slept the sleep...

It's been a few days and I am as good as ... middle aged? ha. But my front bed? looks FABULOUS. My other flower beds and garden? Have LUSCIOUS dirt for the season...

I just need one more bag of pea gravel....

;)

I love you all  ~ not as much as Ibuprofen and Acetaminophen... but I love you all... Thanks for the razzing and giggles.  It's what makes life good.

In Time

Navy blue shorts. I told her this would be the last season for them; too short if you ask me but I'm a mom and according to my daughter, LIVE to inconvenience her and cramp her style. A pale yellow tee shirt with mosquitoes on it that read "Bite me" I always laughed at that. It was so fitting for her hint of sassy attitude. A navy blue scrunchy to tie back her long hair with the streaks of blue and pink I had allowed her to do for the summer; choosing not to battle her on this one.  It was only temporary dye.  It would wash out before she had to be back in Catholic school in the fall.

Yes, she would be back in the fall.

It was the only goal to set now that she was missing. She would be back to me before the fall. I looked up and asked God to confirm that... "Right? You wouldn't take her. FOREVER. Right God?"

I had let her go to a friend's house. It was fresh in to spring and the snow had at last melted away leaving the ground smelling sweet and muddy. I had let Patti go to McKennah's house a thousand times. It was a five minute bike ride. How could she go missing in five minutes? There wasn't time.

But the fact was, it only took him a few seconds to pull her from her grey and pink bike that I bought her for her birthday. I had to get it sized to fit me because she was growing so quickly. I wondered if she would surpass me in the fall; when she would surely come back.

She hadn't called to tell me she arrive at McKenna's so I dialed her number to give her a playful reminder of the broken rule but she didn't answer. I shrugged and rolled my eyes thinking about how she could text for hours but turn her phone off for this short ride in order to make sure the battery would last. I grumbled and waited for an hour.  Patti didn't call. I dialed McKenna's house and spoke to her mom. The words "She's not here" punched me in the gut and stole all my air. I hung up and dialed the police.

They came and wrote in little notebooks. I had to spell my name a dozen times. My mind was swirling and cold, slamming against my skull with horrific images and ideas about what was happening to my daughter. My hands and knuckles were frigid, wringing together to stay warm and wanting to hold my little girl. My knees, felt like they were made of hot bubbles and bobbed up and down nervously. I had to tell them a hundred times that she was NOT a runaway, NOT fighting with us, NOT sneaking to a boyfriend's, NOT doing drugs in some back alley ... She was MISSING. And I begged them to stop writing and start looking.

My husband was already out there. He was calling neighbors, checking the parks, the school, the Target; everywhere. I smoothed my hair and tried to breathe. Air wouldn't fill up my lungs so I essentially was panting. I rocked back and forth on the couch cushion; deciding when she got back, we'd need a new sofa. This one was uncomfortable. I watched the front door and listened for the back; expecting her to stroll in and demand a snack. I would have gladly gotten one for her at this point. I shook my phone as if it were shamefully hiding messages from her; calls. The ringer must be broken. Technology! Ha! Then tell me Great and Powerful Oz ~ Who took my baby?

At last they freed me from their endless drivel. I jumped up and grabbed my keys only to be told it would be best if I stayed home. In case. My jaw dropped and my heart shrank back in my chest. WHAT?  I wanted to go out there. I wanted to look for her. I was her mother for Christ's sake. I would be able to find her. These people didn't know her; obviously! I mean, really? Drugs? Runaway? I fidgeted and glanced out the window. Color was draining from the world; my world.

So I did what they said. I waited. I paced. I sat up and I called her phone, sent texts. Nothing. For days. For an eternity. The gaping hole in my soul burned. My heart felt as if it was rotting away;  an old head of lettuce; just wilting. I felt lost without her smile, her laugh. I missed Patti's wet towels draped across the back of my dining room chair. I ached to pick a fight with her so one of us could say "I'm sorry." and hug. Oh my God, a hug. To smell her perfume and feel her arms.  To rub between her shoulders while she stretched like a cat and told me about her day, her problems... I missed those things; longed for them, for her; my daughter, my friend. Panic moved in and never left but it DID invite Exasperation. I didn't eat ~ only nibbled when people absolutely insisted. I stopped sleeping. My phone was charged at all times. I began to prowl the Internet, hound her friends for ANY sign...contact. I went and spoke with their moms, always leaving my cell number so they would have it. They would politely take it again and again, smiling those sickening sympathetic smiles and nodding slowly as if I were speaking gibberish. I pulled away when they reached out to touch my arm; getting CLOSE to tragedy so they could share it behind my back and play that "I know more. We're so close..." game with each other. And I struggled not to box their ears when they all said the same things:

How ARE you?

Any news?

The worst one? We're PRAYING for you.

I stopped at the school to keep track of her assignments just in case. When she came back in the Fall, we would have some work to do.

Summer introduced itself. I slammed the door in it's face and told it we didn't want any.  I wasn't in the mood for swimsuits and picnics. I didn't have any desire to apply sunscreen and in fact was adamant about NOT wearing it. What would happen to me? I might die? I was already in the process if not there.

Silence.

It screamed at me all the time; mocking me coldly that we had done what we could and there was nothing left; even the tears seemed to give up, more of them did no good and would not help Patti.

Daily, I drove the path she was to have taken. I walked it and looked for things; strange cars, slow drivers. I had accidentally memorized most of those license plates along the street and their owners. Everyone knew me and waved ~ gingerly as if I would break apart. The silver Toyota didn't alarm me at first. People had visitors. People even got turned around; got lost sometimes. But this one, this one prowled along like sniffing  for a scent.  It's bumper looked like it had been tied on with kitchen string.The back tail light had been broken out and replaced by red tape. I had always told Patti that if she was in a trunk of a car to kick out the light and stick her arm out, wave like crazy...

"Be smart Patti. Be strong. I'm coming. I swear I'm coming." I said it to each crack in the sidewalk and promised each tree I passed.  The Toyota circled again. I got the plate and headed home, calling my liaison at the station.

"Another strange automobile?" the sigh was tired and slightly irritated.

"Yep. Another one. Any leads today? Tips?" I never stopped sounding hopeful, never stopped asking in spite of the thorn of despair that was slowly killing my soul.

"We have a few. Some more sightings."

"Oh? That's great. shall I call back today?"

"No Mrs.B. We will call you if they pan out."

"Any calls about a punched out tail light?"

"What?"

I felt the spark through the phone.

"I always told Patti to punch out or kick the tail light out and wave or stick her leg out...silly I know..." I heard my voice rise with hope.

"There was one sighting of that near Walley's swamp; a silver..."

My heart jumped to life and began to thump along with the ideas that flooded my cobwebbed numbing brain. "A Toyota? A TOYOTA? Here's the plate Mike. I saw it. I SAW it. Run these please oh God please."

"Mrs. B. I will look at it. I swear I will..."

"Goddammit Mike. Run it. Help me. This is the first time..."

"I know Mrs. B. Stay put. I will run it today. I will call you soon."

"I will wait here. Right here Mike. Please...Patti..."

"I know. I know."

We clicked off and I began to make a race track in the rug around my dining room table.  I began to talk to Patti, scream at her in mind.

"That's it Baby. You did it. I will make it to you in time. Hang on." I at last found a sensible stream of consciousness and flew to the Internet. I scoured my hiking maps and found what I wanted, the swamp. Printing every detail I could zoom in on, I began to plan. The phone rang four times before I answered.

"Plates are stolen."

"I have the description of the car. Which side of the swamp?"

"No Mrs. B you are not to go. I will send a team."

"And I will be part of  it. I hike in there all the time."

"No."

Too quickly, I said okay and hung up. I called to my rock, my husband and told him what had come about.  He was putting together my pack as I changed hurriedly. He met me at the car and we took off. He dropped me at the side of the road near one of the old logging roads; close to where the siting had been. He grabbed my hand and we looked into each other.  He nodded and without words, shouted we loved each other. I almost leaped from the car, my legs in motion and my arms slipping into my pack, my companion.  My pulse throbbed between my ears, I gulped at the wind smacking my face, daring me to come in; come farther in to my daughter's Hell.

"Gladly." I spat, wiped my nose, turned my face away and marched in. The grasses were wet, sucking at my boots from the rains over the last several days. My ankles burned and twisted as I tottered over rocks and trudged along. I wound along the old roads and headed out to the abandoned shacks.  It was where she had to be. I had an idea of one seeming more probable than the others.  It was back on the northeast end and in the hay day of logging, it had been the lodge and central location for a small general store. Having hiked passed it several times, I knew it to be mostly intact, sturdy and remote.  There was an old road that lead to it, but years of neglect had made it un-driveable. It would have been accessed only by hiking.  It took me three hours but I at last found it.  Sneaking up quietly to the outbuilding, I waited and watched.  No signs of life.

I crouched until my hips numbed. Rocking slowly forward to my knees, I peeked around the corner toward the main house. The man I'd seen driving the Toyota emerged and began walking back out to the main road.  I wanted to jump on him and punch him until I shattered his face. I wanted to kill him and leave him rotting for animals and fungus to pull apart his miserable body; disintegrate his flesh and spirit. But first, I had to see if she was in there.  I stood slowly feeling pins and needles in my muscles warning me not too fast.  Behind me came a snap and rustle. My blood froze. My spine felt as it if was disintegrating like a sand castle in the wind. I bunched up my fist and brought it around  in front of me. 

"Helpyou?" It came out as a bark.

I faced thee man I knew had taken my daughter. His hair was thick and greasy falling carelessly into his face.  his eyes were light; piercing. He brought with him a musty old smell.

I laughed sheepishly and stood, putting more distance between us.  "I'm so sorry. I don't mean to be lurking.  I was hiking back down the logging road and got turned around.  I've been wandering for a while and just was hoping someone was home... I could use some help..." I felt my face flush but not like he imagined. It was from unadulterated hate. I wanted to carve him to pieces.

He looked around and chewed on his lip; contemplating.

"Is this your place?" I asked.

"Yeah. Yeah it is. Not much to look at, but it belonged to my parents. I don't get here much so it's ..." he shrugged and stepped closer.

"Eh. Looks okay by me. Gotta phone?" and I turned starting toward the door.

"Hey HEY..." he jogged after me. "Uh No. No phone. No reception out this far."  he had run passed me and now stood between me and the door. "Why don't you come with me and I'll take you out to the main road.  I have a car and can take you back in to town.."

"Well, I hate to be rude," I said reaching around him to the handle "But I was hoping to use your little girls' room. You've surely got one of them..." and I pushed it open.

'Uhhh Yeah, I guess that would be okay. I've uh got to go to work, so I just need you to ummm you know, be quick. Let's be quick, huh?"

He was very close to me.

"Okay. Soooo it's where?" I began to walk around

"Here. No over here...." he jumped as I headed down the hall.

"Oh sure. yeah. thanks."

I went in, took my pack off, spinning around so I held it like a papoose; my bug spray flipping out of the top pocket on to the floor.  I pulled my knife from my belt and sat down.

There was a knock.

"You okay?"

"Oh yeah. Be right out. Sorry."

"I hate to be so pushy. Just need to uh get to work..." he jiggled the handle.

I stood. "Yeah. Hang on."

The door to the bathroom swung open and he barged in.  I began to spray my bug spray into his mouth and eyes. I rushed him with my pack and drove him out, startled and he tripped over an old carpet.  I kept spraying and walking, clutching my knife.  I began to call Patti's name.  The man swatted and sputtered. I could see his eyes swelling shut. I felt my teeth come together and grind. We tumbled back and I landed on top of him with my pack. I shoved it aside and pinned him with my knees. My knife at his throat.  I kept spraying with the other hand. He was gasping, choking and tearing.  I heard him wretch and felt his body heave under me. I punched his face with the can and kept hitting his head I began to shout.

"Where is the girl?"

"WHAT GIRL?" he was yelping.  "You're fuckin CRAZY!"

"PAAAATTI! I yelled and hit him again. I heard the first crunch as his cheek fractured.

"Ain't no GIRL."

"You LIE" and I thumped him again.  Blood ran from his nose.

"She's gone."

I hesitated. "Gone? Gone where?"

"Ran away." he was sobbing and gagging.

I put more weight on his chest and leaned my arm up under his throat.

"LIE" and I twisted his nose.  He shrieked and coughed blood in my face. I was panting spit right back at him. I pushed more weight on his chest and throat not upset at all that his face was purple and his eyes were bulging. The man went weak and stopped moving.  Not dead. Just passed out.

There was a creak in the floor behind me.

"Mom?" it was soft barely a whisper.

I froze and felt the warmth in my chest. Relief and love; things I wasn't sure I'd ever know again. I looked slowly over my shoulder into the dirty face of my daughter.

It was my turn to gasp and choke. Her knees were bruised and her clothes were torn.  Her hair was a filthy mess, sticking out in all sorts of kooky directions. Wicked bed head we would have laughed about on a normal Saturday morning.  I stood on weak knees and reached out; my fingers hungrily wiggling and beckoning her to come to me.

"I made it. I'm here. You are safe."  The distance began to drift closed.  We both were crying. My heart began to flutter, I started to shake.  Patti fell to her knees and rock back and forth calling my name then her voice melted into a steady stream of sobs and mumblings. She cuddled herself.  I knelt gently beside her and covered her with my arms, I held my baby. I took her face in my hands and studied each inch of her tiny frightened features. I looked at the bruises on her ;the ligature marks. I saw the scabs and the fatigue that cloaked her beautiful eyes with dark circles. I smiled up at God, grateful he had given me my daughter back. She would be all right and be back to school just like I said... in the Fall. We would get our life back.

"It's over." I said and kissed the tip of her nose.  I saw her eyes widen and her jaw drop so I clutched her tightly bracing myself.  The screams came from both of us as I felt my own knife rip through my shirt and skin.  The warmth of my blood spilling out on the floor as the man who kidnapped my daughter loomed behind me. I felt his hot breath on my neck and he leaned in, driving the blade up under my ribs calling me a crazy bitch.  I wondered what he was cutting: my lungs, my heart? I gasped, reaching and twisting to pull it out, pushing Patti away.  I hissed for her to run.  She stood and stared in horror. I was clutching my side and rolling toward him, grabbing at him to do anything to slow him down; keep him away. I just kept trying to tell Patti to run. The pain was like an army of bee stings raging between my bones. I felt my strength draining from me.

There was a loud pop and a flash from the front doorway. Then no movement; from anyone. Outside I heard men shouting and heavy feet.  The man who had stabbed me was lying on the floor. I looked up to see my husband pushing passed the officers; rushing to us.  There was shouting and crying.  I heard dogs and sirens wondering how the cars got back there... I heard my breathing wet and rattled.  I felt a burning in my chest as people rushed to help me. My daughter was holding my hand, muttering my name. My husband pushing my hair from my face and begging me to hang on.

"We made it in time." I said, feeling an odd cold creeping in  and numbing the pain.  I saw the people around me begin to break apart like tiny splinters; their voices slipping away down a long cool tunnel. I was so tired.  It felt good to close my eyes.  I felt peace when I relaxed. The pain drained away.  I opened my eyes once more and said  "I love you so much" to my husband and my daughter before I died. I said it just in time.


Didn't see that ending coming, did ya? This one has been a thorn in my side for weeks.  I finally gave up, sat down, and charged through it. I don't even know if it's good. I know it's over. Ha. Sometimes it just has to be done. Well, I hope you enjoyed its twists and turns. Thanks for hanging out with me. It's always fun with you. 

A Tale of Two Toddlers

It has been a long time since I have updated anything going on in this house (as it has been pointed out by a few of you...sorry). Not that we haven't been bustling about; I just prefer sometimes to get lost in my imagination... this one however was too good to pass up.

If you were to characterize my "toddlers" it would be with one word: stink. Now I will tell you why.

The other day, Winston kept wanting to go out. That is not like my little piglet.  He is either running around like crazy; attacking his stuffed toys, or making stink clouds in his sleep (I must also add to that: OR burping like a drunken sailor) but he doesn't just stand at the door to go out. This day was different so I indulged him; thinking the weather was nice and he DOES love to sleep in the sun of the outdoor sofa. I was wrong. I became suspicious after I noticed ... an odor. Not a sweet sunny outside smell. Oh my no, it was one... that made you wince and look around to blame someone for being rude; REALLY rude. Well I began to put it together that the smell got worse each time Winston came in. My little Nubian Princess, Birdie did the same. She would rush him as he came in the door, smack him with her paws and bite his scruff. Wow and I thought I was tough! So I decided to serve up a little spy mission.  I waited patiently as he got motivated to ask to go out for a fourth time. I let him out and he walked slowly around the porch, taking his time to sign his name on my sprouting daffodils. (thanks Bud.) Then he would yawwwwn, and pretend to be bored but when I looked away he would fire up his little bat engine and jettison his tiny frame toward the shed. I knew in an instant what he was doing and failed my Lenten promise of "no swearing" as I headed off after him with Birdie (not wanting to miss the chance to see her "brother" get busted) close at my heels. He even tried to be so sneaky as to crawl between the garden and the barn itself.  Like he thought I would lose him? Really? Well he IS a dog; not Snowden...But I AM Mother Russia...

Well my not so stealth piglet rounded the corner to pay dirt; literally. I could almost hear him giggling as he marched right up to the compost pile, dug at it, TOOK several bites of it and then began to roll. 

HOLY HANNAH! 

So he is wiggling playfully in rotting fruits, vegetables and some long gone rose stems while munching on... just that. Gross isn't the word. I look down at Birdie; who is a priss anyway, and she has the exact same look of disgust on her little black and grey face as if to say 

"See Mommy? He is JUST FILTHY. Boys are stupid AND dirty!" I'm sure the chuff she gave was intentional.

I cleared my throat and tapped my foot; waiting for the piglet to see or hear me.  But he didn't. He was so friggin happy that he just kept going; and if dirt or crud fell in his mouth, I swear I could hear the puppy version of "YEAH" and he would wiggle faster in appreciation for the mystery of gravity that kept gifting him such yummy stink treats.

"WINSTON!" I yelled at last, unable to stand it anymore.

He stopped and laid there on his back with a mouthful of trash and his dorky dog grin. "HUH?"

"GET OUT OF THERE RIGHT THIS MINUTE"

Birdie shifted her weight and if she'd have had arms, I'm certain they would have been on her doggie hips..

"NOW"

I think his sister in dog-language began to taunt "You're gonna giiiit it. You're gonna giiiit it."

He got one more turn in and stood, flipping damp gooey trash and decay all over us.

"EWWWWWW WIIIIINSTOOOON" I can only assume that the echo I heard was Birdie.

"Wha? Time to go in?" He stretched and dug his little toes in, grinding up just a few more bits.  Then he coughed, gagged and hacked up a stem and top to what was once a red pepper (?) and dashed toward the porch. Upon his majestic arrival, he took the time to stop and sign the flowers again, smacking at the back door; all but shouting "Here. I want to go in HERE now. HURRY" as Birdie and I walked up, mentally communicating that indeed boys are stupid and dirty, he jumped happily at the door. 

"You should go right to the shower or the garage you garbage can." I grumbled. He mistook that for "Good boy. I'm so happy you eat trash."

I let them in and he dove for the cookie jar. "You've GOT to be kidding" ... this apparently means "You deserve a bunch of treats for all you've accomplished today"

Birdie was at his side dancing as well, but hers was more "I'm so much prettier, and I don't stink. Cookies? Why yes please, I DO believe I would like one or seven of them."

So I did what any good mom would do. I reached in ....OOOOOOHHHH so slowly and got out a cookie..... from the REAL cookie jar...just for me and I ate it; being sure to show them my empty hands; confirmation that they would receive NOTHING.

So even as different as they are, they came to the same conclusion:

I'm a royal witch with a capital B.



Hey pretty people!
I have missed this place and I have missed you. Things have been CRAZY busy for me lately and I confess I have one more to post (I hope this weekend) I have a couple in the bank that I am still working on. I just haven't posted. Sorry. Bad Blogger.

We are up north this weekend and my hope of hopes is to get out on the trail hiking. Things look dry and Nag is looking pretty lonely in the corner. I will be one tired little girl ~ but it's my favorite kind of tired. 

Safe travels if you are heading out. I hope to see you soon. Thanks for coming over, I'm glad we had a little time to catch up.

Plain and Simple

She didn't have time for his whining, crybaby act. Tonya needed Dan to be strong. It needed to be about her today with the big meeting.  This was it. She would shatter the glass ceiling, make senior partner and at last be nestled solidly in the upper crust; as she deserved.  Dan's sniveling and neediness were becoming tiresome and tedious. Tonya had promised herself to keep him around until the deal was done. Then she could rub elbows (and other fun parts) with the more affluent.  Dan had served his purpose and letting him go would suit her next set of goals. Currently, he was following her as she dressed for her meeting. He was running on about something he wanted to talk about tonight.  Something important something blah blah blah...

"mm-hmm. Yeah. No, I totally understand. Sure Sure uh-huh yeah, tonight would be great." she found herself stifling a yawn and willed herself not to roll her eyes at the ceiling as she placed her earrings.

"I just think it's time we take a step in the right direction Ton. Do what's best for both of us. I care so much about you and I want to be sure we are both on the same page, wanting the same things and life goals."
he had reached for her several times, to draw her in and hold her.  She would step away or turn and he never quite got there.

"Yep. Goals. We need to make sure we have them and do what it takes to reach them." she added half-heartedly. "Now, my meeting is this morning and I should have the partnership by five. There will of course be a celebration with the other senior partners so don't wait up. I'm sure we will go to dinner or something." She let her mind drift to the champagne and admiring eyes as the older men welcomed her long legs and "valuable talents". Marcus Jansom in particular.  His dark hair, green eyes and subtle innuendos had him high on the priority list of "mentors". Stealing him away from whoever had placed the gold band on his finger would be her next crowning achievement. She was barely able to contain what was quickly becoming disdain for her simple, soon to be ex-lover.  Tonya didn't wait for Dan to finish getting ready.  She didn't pour a cup of coffee for him nor did she say goodbye when she swooped up her briefs and keys heading for her newly purchased Lexus for the drive to the city, where she would park in her coveted spot in the company garage and then take a private car to the meeting where she would dazzle with her looks, her fierceness and tenacity; get the client and return to her surprise invitation to become partner. Busy day. She didn't have time to wait for Dan to tell her that he had drawn something meaningful at the park or seen something sad in a homeless wretch's eyes and felt the pang of guilt to capture it and make a statement with his art.  She was too busy; plain and simple.

Dan stood and watched her walk down the hall, listened as her heels clicked along the tile.  She hadn't heard a word; not in months.  All the things he was trying to say had fallen on her self-important ears.  He sighed and wondered how he had given his heart to someone who had none. Dan barely noticed that his palms had taken a pleading upward pose.  He hung his head sadly and let her go. "Soon to be for good." he thought with a pang of guilt. Dan finished his routine. He walked downstairs to the kitchen and poured a cup for himself from the pot he'd made.  He took a bite of the breakfast Tonya had refused.  His mind began to wander and he felt his spirits lift.  Soon he would see her. Lydia. The thought of her name brought a sweet, wry smile to his lips.  He felt anticipation and joy to share his thoughts and sketches. He was anxious to share so much more with this lovely woman who thought so much like himself.  She had an artiste's sense and view of the world and he had loved her for months. They met at the park every day and shared what they had seen, how they felt. They solved the world's problems on a park bench over sandwiches they made and split. She was a volunteer in many of the charities and art programs in the city. Unhappily married, she had recently asked for a divorce and shocked her husband who could not understand that she needed more than bobbles and an expense account. Giving what she lacked, she had endlessly encouraged Dan to submit his work, pound the pavement a little because of his interpretations of the world and political statements. She felt it was the right thing in the right place at the right time. In their eyes, society had become to self-serving and short sighted with the insatiable need for the instant and exotic.  They were two peas in a pod, both preferring the slower, home made, more simplistic aspects of ... everything. He simply adored this woman. He patted the pockets of his quilted flannel jacket for the keys to his Altima and hunted for his sunglasses from Frank's drug store finding them comically already perched on his head. He left for the park and his Lydia.

Tonya buzzed around the office with a giddiness and falsetto laugh that caused the secretaries around her to glare and sneer. She was too quick and busy flitting around to see the daggers or feel the catty scratches as her name was hissed and giggled over with vicious snide remarks. No one particularly liked Tonya, her gluttony or greed.  She was fake and was conveniently nice when it would suit a higher purpose ~ always her own.  The partners, especially Marcus had been fooled.  Talk in the quiet hallways and even more secretive bets had been placed as to when she would bed him. He was a known philanderer and although painfully easy on the eyes with a charm and seductive manner to match and be totally dreamy, he was "the one Mama warned ya 'bout". They would make a powerful, stellar couple hopefully saving two normal people; more snide snickers from the wicked peanut gallery. Tonya kept checking her watch.  She was due to be picked up soon.  The multi-million dollar client had been smitten with Tonya, insisting that she become their primary liaison.  It had cinched her partnership.  

"Lydia, the car is here for you.  Are you ready?" Marcus leaned lazily in the doorway, his hands resting in his pockets. He appraised the woman, refusing to hide his leering gaze. "Looks like it."

"You bet." She smiled coyly. "I'm ready for anything. Let's do this."

"Want me to go with you?"

"Of course I do, but I know how busy you are." she pouted just enough for them both to understand.

"Let me get my coat."

"Great! Oh Marcus, I REALLY appreciate it. I will feel a little more secure with someone who knows ..."

"You don't need me. I want to watch you." he stopped and looked her over once more.

"I'd love that." Tonya grabbed her coat and headed for the door.

Again, the looks were exchanged, a little more hungry and personal. The secretary behind Marcus turned to the others in the office and poked her finger at the back of her throat to convey what shouldn't be said. The other hens smiled and nodded. The pair headed out to the car. Marcus' hand resting confidently, a little too low along the small of Tonya's back. She did not object.  Once in the car, she permitted him to pat her knee, even caress it a little.  If they hadn't been on their way to such an important meeting, so much more...

"Oh Marcus I hope we won't be late. I'd hate to not have enough time to prepare."

"You will be fine. You are ready for this." and he patted her again, sliding his fingers just around the back of her knee, drawing tiny circles.

"Yes. I. Am." she sighed and reached for him. "Very ready."

"Please pick it up a little Jonathon. We don't want to be late. This is a big day for our little girl."

Tonya giggled and playfully elbowed him. "Little girl..PLEASE."

"Of course Mr. Jansom."

Lydia looked out the window, reveling in it all. She loved that they were driving head first in to her dream.

Dan splurged on two bottles of pop and a couple of large, decadent cookies from Mike's bakery on the corner; smiling at the indulgence, imagining Lydia's crooked grin and crinkling eyes; like the most beautiful laughter you could paint. He felt the warmth spread through his body, anticipation at seeing her, sharing his latest sketches and the fantastic news that his grand first show in the city's premier gallery had been finalized and he wanted her to join him; to be by his side. He had tried to ask Tonya, knowing she would enjoy the spotlight but she had ignored him.  He was facing the fact that he would need to move on. He wanted to do that with Lydia. These last few months had proven to him that he didn't have to be stuck in the limelight as a piece of insignificant fluff.  He was valued in his own right, in his own domain; one Tonya had thought too simple and drab. Bitterly he shook his head, turning his collar to the wind and picked up his pace for the last couple of blocks.  Seeing his lovely Lydia sitting quietly on "their" bench, made him pause and gulp at the moment. Her blond hair, short and spunky was covered slightly by a colorful fleece headband for her ears.  He recognized her purple jacket and maroon gloves.  She bounced her knees and looked around (for him) Seeing him, he felt time and space shrink as she waved and smiled warmly.  He raised the bag in his hand in greeting.  She stood and took a couple of steps. Dan stepped off the curb and began across as the light changed.  His heart was singing under his ribs.  He had to control his desire to run and scoop up the woman he loved, swinging her around in his arms and kissing her face until she laughed and begged him to stop. 

Lydia had begun to walk toward him. Her graceful legs covered in brown corduroys.  He grinned at her cherry red nose from the wind and her breath as she cupped her hands round her mouth and puffed to warm her cheeks.  

"I have great news!" he shouted.

"Me too!" she laughed and continued toward him. She was at the curb, he in the middle.

"I got the show! It's official!"

Lydia squealed and clapped. Her arms opened wide. "FANTASTIC! Hurry up! I want to hug you!" she laughed.

"I am. I know. Me too. I love this!" he hollered back into the city's busy grunts and shouts.

"I love YOU!" she shouted and began to run toward him.

Dan stopped at the words; his heart fluttering, mind reeling.  He opened his arms as well and laughed at the sky. Laughed at the honking cars and the grumpy people heading to work.  The honking got louder and angrier.  He turned with irritation to see a black Cadillac speeding through the red light; heading for Lydia.  She froze and stared in horror as it raced for her.

"Jonathon! It's red. JESUS JONATHON THERE'S A WOMAN..." Marcus was all but crawling up over the seat to snatch the wheel and try to avoid the pedestrian who had appeared out of nowhere.  Her purple coat and brown corduroys made her look like Grimace from the ancient McDonald's commercials. Marcus recognized her instantly because he called his wife Grimace that very morning. He couldn't understand what Lydia was doing in the middle of the road. This road.  Then there was a man. A tall handsome man in a flannel. He pushed Lydia back to where she'd come; the curb. The safe curb.  The thump was heavy and thick.  The glass spidered and everyone in the car screamed. Tonya felt the jolt as the car slammed into the light pole bending it enough to cause it to topple, dividing the caddy sickeningly in half. Tonya did not feel the blow as her spine was crushed. She did not feel anything after that; ever.

Daniel had dropped his surprise for Lydia and run. His mouth was twisted from a smile to a scream of a horrified "NO" as the arms he'd opened to hold her, the hands he'd wanted to touch her face and hair turned rigid and harshly shoved her out of the way. The black car chomped at his leg, flipped him like a rag doll up on to the hood and through the glass. He felt tiny razors scratch and pull apart his flesh as he sailed through the windshield in to the lap of the man who had been told to hurry. 

Marcus kicked at the door and finally freed himself from the metallic sarcophagus. He ran to the curb and grabbed at his wife.

"Oh my God Lydia!" He felt her hands and arms but realized after a moment that she was slapping at him and trying to scramble over him to the man bent awkwardly through the company car.

"DANIEL! My DANIEL" she was shrieking.

Daniel heard Lydia from far away calling for him.  There were flashing lights and reassurances from emergency crews.  He smelled Tonya's perfume though he was unable to turn to see if she was near. The stretcher bumped and chatted carelessly over shattered glass and potholes to the ambulance.  Lydia was sobbing now. He raised his hand and opened his eyes.  Everything was burning and bleary.  

"Lydie?" he called softly.

"Shhhh sir. Please don't talk."

"I'm here I'm RIGHT HERE Daniel." He felt fumbling along his hand.

"Miss, will you be going with us..."

"Absolutely. Move over. Please just let me hold his..."

They tried to accommodate her and save him.

"Don't you dare leave me Daniel. I said I love you. You have to say it back. I'm waiting..." she laughed and cried and felt sick.

He squeezed her hand three times and drifted back in to the fog where there were no flashing lights or sirens. He would stay here until it was quieter. Three weeks. And Daniel would wake to find Lydia, frightened, a little frail but still beautiful and in love. They would make it; building a life to be envied.

Marcus stood with Jonathon as the police questioned and wrote and demanded.  He watched the ambulance pull away with his soon to be ex-wife.  He glanced over at the second one carrying his future to the morgue. His mouth felt tight and dry. 

"What happens now?" he asked, wiping his face that suddenly looked haggard and old rather than distinguished and sexy.

"Well we will have to file charges and begin the process..." someone was stating matter of factly. To Marcus it sounded muffled and distant.  "It's pretty plain and simple..."


Hello my dears!
Bah! I feel awful about not posting for so long.  I have been wrestling with one for more than three weeks now and am ready to chuck it. I don't like to leave things, but I had to walk away .. for now at least. So here we are with this.  I kind of like the twists though it feels a little quick and dirty. Anyway, I hope you like it and enjoy sitting with me for a few minutes.

I also wanted to welcome my latest, newest friends and say thanks for linking, tweeting, and Facebooking my blog to friends and family. I think it's great and a lot of fun to meet all of you.  Thanks for the encouragement, emails and such. I am flattered and happy to have you stop by; any time.

So have a good week. Let's hope Spring has sprung. Until next time, be good to yourself.

Tessa.


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