July 28, 2016
Listening to Adele is not pumping me up to get motivated for the day. Love her but need something with a bit more 'snap'. She does put me in a melancholia so that's what I will share today...sappy.
The Name was Lloyd
MPOTOCKI
“Third time’s a charm,” Cort thought to himself as he put the finishing touches on what he was sure would be ‘the one’ that would steal Her heart.
“This will get me noticed!” he repeated over and over as he placed the last Coke bottle near the top of the sculpture, giving it a celebratory ‘clink’ with his finger.
He took his usual position a bit down the block to be in full view of the moment She walked out of the house to admire the gift he had created just for Her. Cort checked his watch. It was 10:12am.
“3 more minutes,” he said softly to the chipmunk running past. “Fingers crossed!”
At 10:15 exactly, the most beautiful woman Cort had ever seen and almost spoken to, emerged for her morning run. The sun reflected its radiance off her golden locks and added a gleam to the emerald green pools of her eyes. Cort stood tall so that She would be sure to see him. She paused next to it then turned toward him. Their eyes locked. Cort went over the introduction he had so diligently practiced for when this moment arrived. As She approached, he couldn’t contain his Cheshire Cat grin. His heart skipped a beat as She stopped in front of him. Cort was never so glad to be a garbage man ‘specializing in recyclables’ as he was right now.
Her voice was an ethereal and silken invitation. “Wait right here,” she said then left. Cort felt his knees grow weak so leaned against the tree trunk to steady himself. “She spoke to me...I am so in like Flynn!!!” He wondered how long She would be.
20 minutes. It took her 20 minutes to come back. With the police. To arrest him. For stalking, harassment and trespassing! The smile She gave him as the officer placed him in the cruiser was what he had yearned for. Cort wished he had a camera to capture the moment.
“Stupid. Stupid. Stupid,” he said as he hit his head against the plexiglass separating him from the cops. “I should have made the sculpture of Her instead of two swans holding their heads in a heart shape!” “She must think I’m a sappy dolt.”
Cort sat in the slam for 3 hours when he was told that he had made bail. He didn’t think anyone knew he had been arrested. His one phone call had been to his mom’s answering machine. Cort was pretty sure she was out of town on yet another of her whirlwind romances with the latest ‘Mr Right’. Cort wished his mom would just stay at home, bake cookies and watch soaps like all the other moms.
“Can I ask who bailed me out?” Cort said to the officer leading him out of his cell. The officer checked the paperwork. “All I got is that the name was Lloyd.”
“Lloyd?” “I don’t know anyone named Lloyd,” Cort mumbled.
At his apartment, Cort waded though all his easels and art materials. Before his mom had made him get a job and move out, he had much more time to work on his art. Cort picked up the latest edition of the local art community’s newspaper. On the front page was Lloyd F. Masters, maker and breaker of local, aspiring artists. “OMG!” Cort said out loud. “Lloyd Masters must have seen my sculptures and bailed me out of jail!!” “I’m on my way to fame and fortune and the love of my life!”
Cort couldn’t afford an attorney but had a sympathetic public defender who was able to get him 20 hours of community service since he had not actually spoken with or physically interacted with his ‘victim’. Ironically, he was assigned to clean up trash along many of the same roadways he had found the recyclables he had used in his sculptures. Cort, being Cort, took this as another omen of being on the right path. Along with his release and community service sentence, a restraining order had been issued requiring him to stay at least one block away in every direction from Her home. He could work with that. Conveniently enough, there was a small park across the street tucked in between two apartment complexes. This was the final omen as it fulfilled the restraining order distance and was visible by his muse.
One the ground floor of one of the apartment complexes was a bar. Clancy’s had been the neighborhood bar for years and those that frequented it were either ancient or new to the neighborhood. In either case, it was not a busy place. Cort chose to create his next sculpture the Saturday after his first stint of community service and Clancy’s to hang out in while he waited for night to fall so he could spring into ‘artist mode’.
When he arrived at Clancy’s that first Saturday afternoon, he was the only customer. The bartender was a pixie-looking brunette with an amazing smile. He was bursting to talk to someone,anyone, about all the exciting things finally falling into place in his life. Since bartenders were known to lend their ear to patrons, Cort struck up a conversation. It was much later than he expected when he realized he had to get going.
“Thanks so much for listening,” Cort said to the bartender as he got up to leave. “I had a great time.” “If all goes well, I won’t see you next Saturday, but if it takes longer, I’ll see you next week.”
Cort headed to his car to gather the materials he would need to complete the Venus de Milo-esque sculpture he chose for his next project. He slept in his car after it was completed, setting his phone alarm to be awake and in his new vantage point by 10:10am. Like clockwork, at 10:15am, She left the house, headed down the walk, and began her run, never looking his way. Cort felt like he had been punched in the gut. He headed home to shower then spent the rest of the day pondering what went wrong. He could only assume that she just didn’t see his creation from across the road, so he would need to go bigger, much bigger, next time.
Next Saturday, he was back at Clancy’s. His bartender friend was working. They had another great conversation while he waited for cover of night to create. Cort had a momentary thought that if he wasn’t already involved with someone, he should really consider asking her out on a date.
At dusk, Cort headed out to the spot nearest to the road and most directly across from Her house. He stopped at the remains of last week’s sculpture. It looked like a carcass picked clean with only the dowels and wires he used as the frame remaining. A slight breeze rustled a paper that was oddly taped to the top of it. Curious, Cort snagged it.
“Keep up the amazing work.”
Lloyd
“Son of a gun!” Lloyd was still watching him! He was on his way to notoriety as an artist, which would only assist in his endeavors to woo the love of his life. This excitement fueled his drive to complete his latest work quickly. His heart sank when She didn’t come out of the house the next day. Or the next 2 weeks. The only thing that kept him going were the notes left by Lloyd and time spent at Clancy’s.
“Today was the last day of my community service. Tonight will be my last attempt to get Her to notice me,” Cort said in an Eeyore-like tone.
“I’m sure things will work out like they are meant to, Cort,” the bartender said as he got up to leave.
He slept in his car like always but this morning, as the light of the new day was spreading, he saw someone standing next to his sculpture. He was facing east with the sun in his eyes so couldn’t clearly make out who it was. “It has to be Her!” Cort fell out of the car, quickly smoothing out his rumpled clothes and running his fingers through his hair. He couldn’t do anything about needing a shave, but knew it wouldn’t matter. She had finally come to him. As he approached, he stumbled over a tree root and almost face-planted into the back of Her. It took him a moment to realize that the locks were not golden, yet there was something familiar about Her. Cort excused himself and stepped back. When She turned to face him, he realized she was his bartender friend. She had just taped a paper to his sculpture. She moved close enough to whisper a revelation in Cort’s ear.
“I am Lloyd.”
The remaining shadows around them melted with the morning sun, catching Cort and Lloyd in a kiss of epic proportions.
Thursday, July 28, 2016
Wednesday, July 27, 2016
Zombies
July 27, 2016
I am not sure when my addiction to zombies began but I do know that it went hardcore with the arrival of 'The Walking Dead'. Love. That. Show!!!! As with any addiction, it takes a hold of a you and makes itself known. For me, other than watching zombies in movies and on TV, I write about them. I have a handful of story ideas about zombies. Some traditional. Some looking to put a little spin on the 'normal' zombie genre. All in their infancy stages, but I am ready to share them with you. I am hoping that sharing them will prompt me to continue working on at least one of them, but only time will tell.
Z New World
MPOTOCKI
The meteorites were a devastating assault on the planet, showing no mercy to any one country, religion, race, age or any other social conventions we as a planet had so dramatically eked out over the history of men. The playing field was leveled, quite literally in many parts of the world. The aftermath was textbook...at first. Looting, killing, struggling to find a shred of the life they had before. People choosing to be black, white or grey in how they now lived. Life had always had many shades of grey in terms of what could or would be tolerated by people. Now, there was a rainbow from black to white and you were defined in this new world as such. White still equalled good. Black was still bad and all the in between was some combination of the two. Then came the red. It happened so fast that there was little time to study it. Scientists assumed that the meteorites were riddled with some virus or element but struggled with why only some were affected by it and others were not.
Crossover Cadre/Zombie T.E.A.M
MPOTOCKI
A woman slays a zombie when in her shower with her toothbrush. She calls the police and there is no body. She is later informed that her sister died and oddly has a toothbrush in her eye...same as what she did to the zombie. The toothbrush is hers so she is arrested...evidence proves her innocence of the death, but she is haunted by the image of her zombie-sister coming to her. She checks herself into a mental health facility to work through this trauma, gets to an OK place and deals with her sister’s estate. From stuff found in her house, she finds out that her sister is really her mother...which now makes the what she thought she heard the zombie say to her: daughter, daughter. From here, things get more interesting...she sees flashes of zombies in the faces of strangers and then reads about their deaths in the paper, complete with some strange appearance of a zombie to someone they know. She goes back to the mental health place, succumbs to not having to think and then a dream reveals her newly defined role in the world. She signs herself out and begins a support group for zombie trauma. During this process, she finds a group of people who become as obsessed as she in finding out what this all means and assisting those needing to understand.
Zombievolution/The Fountain of Zombies (or some combo of zombie and evolution)
4 part series about the evolution of the zombie to an immortal race
Part 1 - Apocalypse
Part 2 - Resistance
Part 3 - Adaptation
Part 4 - Immortality
MPOTOCKI
Possibly a scientist finds an incredible book telling the tales of rising the dead and them living forever. For decades this scientist gathered others to play God. Maybe the earth has a millennia cycle where this happened before and those that became immortal could not stand eternity and basically wiped out the entire earth. Earth regenerated - big bang - and now we are at the rising of the dead stage. What causes zombies is this group who are able to rise the dead but not control them. They had developed a vaccine that would temper the zombie-tude and this is the beginning of the evolution. The introduce this to themselves and a small group of others, who do become zombies, but they are a bit less aggressive that the initial group. As the disease spreads, some become/are more resistant to it so do become zombies but still retain a bit of humanity. This evolves into the immortal race.
I am not sure when my addiction to zombies began but I do know that it went hardcore with the arrival of 'The Walking Dead'. Love. That. Show!!!! As with any addiction, it takes a hold of a you and makes itself known. For me, other than watching zombies in movies and on TV, I write about them. I have a handful of story ideas about zombies. Some traditional. Some looking to put a little spin on the 'normal' zombie genre. All in their infancy stages, but I am ready to share them with you. I am hoping that sharing them will prompt me to continue working on at least one of them, but only time will tell.
Z New World
MPOTOCKI
The meteorites were a devastating assault on the planet, showing no mercy to any one country, religion, race, age or any other social conventions we as a planet had so dramatically eked out over the history of men. The playing field was leveled, quite literally in many parts of the world. The aftermath was textbook...at first. Looting, killing, struggling to find a shred of the life they had before. People choosing to be black, white or grey in how they now lived. Life had always had many shades of grey in terms of what could or would be tolerated by people. Now, there was a rainbow from black to white and you were defined in this new world as such. White still equalled good. Black was still bad and all the in between was some combination of the two. Then came the red. It happened so fast that there was little time to study it. Scientists assumed that the meteorites were riddled with some virus or element but struggled with why only some were affected by it and others were not.
Crossover Cadre/Zombie T.E.A.M
MPOTOCKI
A woman slays a zombie when in her shower with her toothbrush. She calls the police and there is no body. She is later informed that her sister died and oddly has a toothbrush in her eye...same as what she did to the zombie. The toothbrush is hers so she is arrested...evidence proves her innocence of the death, but she is haunted by the image of her zombie-sister coming to her. She checks herself into a mental health facility to work through this trauma, gets to an OK place and deals with her sister’s estate. From stuff found in her house, she finds out that her sister is really her mother...which now makes the what she thought she heard the zombie say to her: daughter, daughter. From here, things get more interesting...she sees flashes of zombies in the faces of strangers and then reads about their deaths in the paper, complete with some strange appearance of a zombie to someone they know. She goes back to the mental health place, succumbs to not having to think and then a dream reveals her newly defined role in the world. She signs herself out and begins a support group for zombie trauma. During this process, she finds a group of people who become as obsessed as she in finding out what this all means and assisting those needing to understand.
Zombievolution/The Fountain of Zombies (or some combo of zombie and evolution)
4 part series about the evolution of the zombie to an immortal race
Part 1 - Apocalypse
Part 2 - Resistance
Part 3 - Adaptation
Part 4 - Immortality
MPOTOCKI
Possibly a scientist finds an incredible book telling the tales of rising the dead and them living forever. For decades this scientist gathered others to play God. Maybe the earth has a millennia cycle where this happened before and those that became immortal could not stand eternity and basically wiped out the entire earth. Earth regenerated - big bang - and now we are at the rising of the dead stage. What causes zombies is this group who are able to rise the dead but not control them. They had developed a vaccine that would temper the zombie-tude and this is the beginning of the evolution. The introduce this to themselves and a small group of others, who do become zombies, but they are a bit less aggressive that the initial group. As the disease spreads, some become/are more resistant to it so do become zombies but still retain a bit of humanity. This evolves into the immortal race.
Tuesday, July 26, 2016
July 26, 2016
A great birthday with the hubby and the grrls! The place I am definitely feels right...finally! Still a little slow to get up and moving in the AM but in the 'good ole days', I was a night owl so maybe this is how it should be...I guess we'll see how it goes.
Later this afternoon, I am volunteering to do some damage to the Annex bldg where Create Portage County is utilizing the space on the ground floor. I think it will be therapeutic. I am also hoping to learn more about the organization to see how they plan on supporting art and artists in the community.
Anyhoo, today's piece is unfinished, as so many are and a bit dark but one I am looking forward to finishing.
One Hit Wonder
MPOTOCKI
She didn’t realize just how deep into the shit she had gotten until she tried to claw her way out. Living on the street, hooking for cash to either score dope or have the occasional meal, it was easy to loose oneself in the underbelly of society. She would have stayed there until it eventually killed her. Then he came along. Fucker. Remembered her from that ‘one hit wonder’ and took it upon himself to save her. She didn’t need to fucking be saved. She wanted to slowly fade into black and was doing a damn good job of it if she didn’t say so herself.
She was peeing in the gutter, smoking a cigarette and trying to balance on the balls of her feet to keep from falling into her own urine. It had been a helluva few days. She had found a party with lots of booze, drugs and dudes who wanted to get blown or otherwise. She spent the weekend there, high and drunk and not caring who did what to her, as long as she could keep the booze and drugs flowing through her. Then Monday morning came and they booted her to the curb, literally. That’s where he saw her. He would have walked by, not paying her a second glance if she hadn’t broke into character and started the cult film’s opening scene. He stopped dead in his tracks, turned and approached the filthy woman peeing in the street. He swept her matted hair from her face and looked at her. He smiled and asked if she wanted to come with him.
“Sure if you got money or other party supplies,” she slurred, standing up slowly, weaving from side-to-side enough for him to steady her. “Right here in the street?” “Damn, boy, let’s at least go over to the wall so I can lean you up against something.” “No, no,” he said sadly. “I don’t want to have sex with you.” “Can I buy you some coffee or breakfast or something?” She shrugged, thinking coffee would warm her up as she began to realize just how cold it was this morning. “Whatever, as long as you’re buying.” “ I like my coffee black, like how I like my men.” That sent her into a peal of laughing and coughing and wheezing that pained him to watch. He wondered what had happened to this amazing woman to bring her to this. After the incredible success of the film, she was unable to find other work. She had made attempts to break-out of the mold created by the film, but was unsuccessful, slowly becoming a has-been and faded out of the limelight. He assumed she just retired somewhere and moved on with her life. The last person he ever expected to ever see, let alone have breakfast with was Ms Nora Livingston, star of the now cult film: Zombie Queen of the Apocalypse.
As they made their way into the diner, most people quickly moved as far as possible away from the smelly, mostly naked and very drunk woman and her sidekick. He smugly ushered Nora into a booth, palming the waitress who had quickly appeared to most likely ask them to leave, a hundred dollar bill. “Two cups of Joe, please.” “Black.” Looking into her hand, Doris shut her mouth and went to grab two mugs and the steaming pot of coffee from the counter.
“Ms Livingston,” Jakub said soothingly, “Are you hungry?” “Can I order you some thing to eat?” Doris had returned with the coffee and was pouring it when Nora snorted, “How’s about some brains?” Falling into a fit of cackling and spitting at her own remark. “That one never gets old!” “I was thinking of something a bit more traditional, like bacon and eggs,” Jakub stated firmly, not allowing her to reply. Nora was lost in recovering from her latest fit of laughter, wiping tears from her eyes and spittle from the corners of her mouth. Nothing about this woman was pretty anymore, Jakub thought to himself, but, remarkably, there was still something about her that made people give her a second glance between her bursts of drunken revelry. For most of those in the diner, it was most likely a train wreck situation - you didn’t want to look but once you did, you couldn’t keep from watching to see what would happen next.
As the morning wore on and the alcohol and drugs began to taper their hold on her, Nora became sullen and slightly panicky. She often came off her buzz in a strange place with strange people but it was usually some seedy place with questionable characters. She was a bit put off by the fact that she was in a diner looking across the table at what appeared to be a normal guy.
“You a cop?” she finally said quietly, fear darting in her eyes and panic causing her to fidget and tap her fingers on the table. Calmly, Jakub placed his hand over hers and looked her squarely in the eyes. “I am very pleased to meet you Ms Livingston.” “My name is Jakub and I’m one of your biggest fans.” It took a few moments for what he said to her to sink in and find that long forgotten and far away place where she had been somebody. She sat up a bit straighter, ran her fingers through her hair and smiled her best paparazzi smile. “Very nice to meet you, Jakub.” Those in the diner saw a thin, sallow and haggard looking woman with yellow teeth and dirty fingernails smiling creepily at the man across from her. What Jakub saw was Nora at her best, a blonde, sun-kissed starlet.
“Do you have a place to stay, Ms Livingston?” Jakub asked furtively. “I would be happy to see you home.” She puzzled this out for awhile, trying to remember if she actually had a place of her own at this particular point in time or if she was just mooching off anyone she could blow for a couch to crash on. “Benny,” she spurted, finally. “I’m staying with my friend Benny.” She hadn’t seen Benny for years and didn’t think that he even lived in the city anymore, but she didn’t want to seem too desperate and lost to a fan, one of her biggest fans, no less.
“Where does Benny live?” “I can drive you there, Ms Livingston.” “Please let me make sure you get home safely,” Jakub almost pleaded, mentally berating himself for sounding so pathetic. He hoped she hadn’t noticed. He hoped she was trying to figure out that she really had not place to go so he could suggest that she come home with him. To have her in his home would be the most amazing thing to happen to him in his life. He slipped into a little moment of dreamy bliss as he imagined Nora at his home, sleeping in his bed, dining with him. He felt a tightness in his pants as well as a loss of control begin to take over. “Would you excuse me, Ms Livingston.” “ I have to use the restroom.” “I’ll be right back.” “Please let the waitress know if you need anything else, ok?” He had his coat draped over the back of the booth and grabbed it as he arose to cover his embarrassing hardness. He felt a flush come over his face as he quickly turned away to head to the back of the diner. “Stupid Buck!” “Who do you think you are trying to get out to meet HER!!” “You aren’t fit to lick her shoes, you dirty, filthy little fucker!” Jakub hated this part of himself and worked very hard to keep his dark side under wraps. He wasn’t quite sure how he had let his guard down here, in front of Ms Livingston, but knew what he had to do to tuck his darker half back into the underbelly of his soul. He made sure that no one else was in the bathroom and then leaned against the door so no one could come in until he was done. Grabbing a handful of paper towels from the dispenser, turning on the faucet, he unzipped and put Buck to bed.
When Jakub left the bathroom and headed back toward the booth he was sharing with Ms Livingston, he stopped short when he saw one of the patrons sitting nearly on her in the booth. They were kissing and laughing. He got to the booth in what felt like one huge step, grabbing the man from off Ms Livingson and tossing him into the tables behind him. “Have some respect for one of the best actresses ever!” “Don’t you know who this IS?!” “You worthless, no good piece of dog shit!” “Don’t even look at her again!” “GET OUT!!”
“Baby, I was just having a little fun.” “Don’t get mad.” “Baby, he just wanted to talk.”
Jakub felt Ms Livingston pawing at his backside to get him to turn around and let her know that he was not mad at her and that he was still her adoring fan. He spun around, almost causing her to tumble onto the floor. “Don’t do that again.” “Let’s go,” he snapped at her, tossing money to Doris at the counter.
Nora stumbled and fumbled out of the booth and onto her feet, realizing that the shoes she had on did not match and that one heel was taller than the other. It made walking while sober a bit more challenging than it should be.
“Wait!” “Jack.” “Whatever your name was.” “Wait for me, please.” It was the please that stopped Jakub at the door. A deep breath allowed him to turn around and apologize for his brusqueness. “Ms Livingston, please accept my apology for being rude.” “I thought that man was hurting you and I couldn’t bear for anything to happen to you on my watch.”
Nora arrived at the door as Jakub finished is apology, tripping into him when she slipped on something wet on the floor. He caught her and felt the ecstasy starting to move in again. He stood her upright and suggested to Doris that she clean up the floor before someone got hurt.
The sunlight burned her swollen and bloodshot eyes. Now she remembered why she hated to go out during the day - the fucking sun hurt! Wiping away the tears that sun forced from her eyes, she lost sight of Jakub for a few moments. In those moments, she pondered if she should bother to look for him or if she should just move on to her next party. Wrapped in a constant shroud of self-loathing, she opted to move on. Jakub, on the other hand, had other ideas. “Ms Livingston,” she heard him say curtly, “My car is over here.” Before she had the opportunity to turn away, he had her but the arm and was guiding her toward his sedan. “OOhh, so you like the rough stuff, huh?” she quipped. She didn’t know why his laughter made all the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end or why she felt very sick to her stomach all of a sudden. She was very tired so shrugged it off as part of her hangover. If only she had listened to her gut.
The care Jakub took with her those first few weeks was beyond belief for someone she had only just met. She went through withdrawal hard. Jakub was there, holding her hair when she puked. Placing cool cloths on her when she was burning up. Nora couldn’t tell dreams from reality as her body purged itself from all the crap she had constantly put into. She would occasionally wake up from a fitful sleep and see Jakub sitting and watching her. Nora blamed the detox for the times she saw a Jakub sitting there that didn’t feel like Jakub. That Jakub made her want to flee from the room or crawl into a small, dark corner and hide, neither of which she was remotely capable of doing. There was something in his eyes that terrified her, but when morning came and Jakub brought her coffee and toast, he was the Jakub she had first met, not the one of her dreams.
As her body acclimated to it’s sober life, she felt more alive and stronger every day. Her relationship with Jakub was refreshing. He didn’t want anything from her other than someone to talk to. No sex. No expectations. Nothing. All he seemed to want was for her to be happy. When she would weaken and feel the pulls of her former life, he would distract her with teaching her something new. For some reason, he made it OK for her not to have these things. There was a calmness and comfort about him that put her at ease, at least most of the time. They would take walks along the nearby lake and stay up late into the night, talking and laughing. Jakub was her true friend. Something Nora had not had in a very long time. Maybe ever. From a young girl until her quick rise to stardom at 18, people had always been there for her but none were truly a friend. She hung around a few other starlets but they just used each other to meet other actors or to get into better parties. It wasn’t a true friendship like the one she had now. Whenever she tried to tell Jakub this, she just wandered off into thought, thinking that if she verbally acknowledged it, it would burst like a bubble and she would awaken on some dirty couch in some smoky apartment or the county jail. One of the local cops was a zombie movie aficionado and whenever he found her drunk, high or both, wandering the streets, he would always take her in and let her sleep it off. He would have to cut her loose in the morning, but it made him feel good to give the Zombie Queen of the Apocalypse a bed for the night.
A great birthday with the hubby and the grrls! The place I am definitely feels right...finally! Still a little slow to get up and moving in the AM but in the 'good ole days', I was a night owl so maybe this is how it should be...I guess we'll see how it goes.
Later this afternoon, I am volunteering to do some damage to the Annex bldg where Create Portage County is utilizing the space on the ground floor. I think it will be therapeutic. I am also hoping to learn more about the organization to see how they plan on supporting art and artists in the community.
Anyhoo, today's piece is unfinished, as so many are and a bit dark but one I am looking forward to finishing.
One Hit Wonder
MPOTOCKI
She didn’t realize just how deep into the shit she had gotten until she tried to claw her way out. Living on the street, hooking for cash to either score dope or have the occasional meal, it was easy to loose oneself in the underbelly of society. She would have stayed there until it eventually killed her. Then he came along. Fucker. Remembered her from that ‘one hit wonder’ and took it upon himself to save her. She didn’t need to fucking be saved. She wanted to slowly fade into black and was doing a damn good job of it if she didn’t say so herself.
She was peeing in the gutter, smoking a cigarette and trying to balance on the balls of her feet to keep from falling into her own urine. It had been a helluva few days. She had found a party with lots of booze, drugs and dudes who wanted to get blown or otherwise. She spent the weekend there, high and drunk and not caring who did what to her, as long as she could keep the booze and drugs flowing through her. Then Monday morning came and they booted her to the curb, literally. That’s where he saw her. He would have walked by, not paying her a second glance if she hadn’t broke into character and started the cult film’s opening scene. He stopped dead in his tracks, turned and approached the filthy woman peeing in the street. He swept her matted hair from her face and looked at her. He smiled and asked if she wanted to come with him.
“Sure if you got money or other party supplies,” she slurred, standing up slowly, weaving from side-to-side enough for him to steady her. “Right here in the street?” “Damn, boy, let’s at least go over to the wall so I can lean you up against something.” “No, no,” he said sadly. “I don’t want to have sex with you.” “Can I buy you some coffee or breakfast or something?” She shrugged, thinking coffee would warm her up as she began to realize just how cold it was this morning. “Whatever, as long as you’re buying.” “ I like my coffee black, like how I like my men.” That sent her into a peal of laughing and coughing and wheezing that pained him to watch. He wondered what had happened to this amazing woman to bring her to this. After the incredible success of the film, she was unable to find other work. She had made attempts to break-out of the mold created by the film, but was unsuccessful, slowly becoming a has-been and faded out of the limelight. He assumed she just retired somewhere and moved on with her life. The last person he ever expected to ever see, let alone have breakfast with was Ms Nora Livingston, star of the now cult film: Zombie Queen of the Apocalypse.
As they made their way into the diner, most people quickly moved as far as possible away from the smelly, mostly naked and very drunk woman and her sidekick. He smugly ushered Nora into a booth, palming the waitress who had quickly appeared to most likely ask them to leave, a hundred dollar bill. “Two cups of Joe, please.” “Black.” Looking into her hand, Doris shut her mouth and went to grab two mugs and the steaming pot of coffee from the counter.
“Ms Livingston,” Jakub said soothingly, “Are you hungry?” “Can I order you some thing to eat?” Doris had returned with the coffee and was pouring it when Nora snorted, “How’s about some brains?” Falling into a fit of cackling and spitting at her own remark. “That one never gets old!” “I was thinking of something a bit more traditional, like bacon and eggs,” Jakub stated firmly, not allowing her to reply. Nora was lost in recovering from her latest fit of laughter, wiping tears from her eyes and spittle from the corners of her mouth. Nothing about this woman was pretty anymore, Jakub thought to himself, but, remarkably, there was still something about her that made people give her a second glance between her bursts of drunken revelry. For most of those in the diner, it was most likely a train wreck situation - you didn’t want to look but once you did, you couldn’t keep from watching to see what would happen next.
As the morning wore on and the alcohol and drugs began to taper their hold on her, Nora became sullen and slightly panicky. She often came off her buzz in a strange place with strange people but it was usually some seedy place with questionable characters. She was a bit put off by the fact that she was in a diner looking across the table at what appeared to be a normal guy.
“You a cop?” she finally said quietly, fear darting in her eyes and panic causing her to fidget and tap her fingers on the table. Calmly, Jakub placed his hand over hers and looked her squarely in the eyes. “I am very pleased to meet you Ms Livingston.” “My name is Jakub and I’m one of your biggest fans.” It took a few moments for what he said to her to sink in and find that long forgotten and far away place where she had been somebody. She sat up a bit straighter, ran her fingers through her hair and smiled her best paparazzi smile. “Very nice to meet you, Jakub.” Those in the diner saw a thin, sallow and haggard looking woman with yellow teeth and dirty fingernails smiling creepily at the man across from her. What Jakub saw was Nora at her best, a blonde, sun-kissed starlet.
“Do you have a place to stay, Ms Livingston?” Jakub asked furtively. “I would be happy to see you home.” She puzzled this out for awhile, trying to remember if she actually had a place of her own at this particular point in time or if she was just mooching off anyone she could blow for a couch to crash on. “Benny,” she spurted, finally. “I’m staying with my friend Benny.” She hadn’t seen Benny for years and didn’t think that he even lived in the city anymore, but she didn’t want to seem too desperate and lost to a fan, one of her biggest fans, no less.
“Where does Benny live?” “I can drive you there, Ms Livingston.” “Please let me make sure you get home safely,” Jakub almost pleaded, mentally berating himself for sounding so pathetic. He hoped she hadn’t noticed. He hoped she was trying to figure out that she really had not place to go so he could suggest that she come home with him. To have her in his home would be the most amazing thing to happen to him in his life. He slipped into a little moment of dreamy bliss as he imagined Nora at his home, sleeping in his bed, dining with him. He felt a tightness in his pants as well as a loss of control begin to take over. “Would you excuse me, Ms Livingston.” “ I have to use the restroom.” “I’ll be right back.” “Please let the waitress know if you need anything else, ok?” He had his coat draped over the back of the booth and grabbed it as he arose to cover his embarrassing hardness. He felt a flush come over his face as he quickly turned away to head to the back of the diner. “Stupid Buck!” “Who do you think you are trying to get out to meet HER!!” “You aren’t fit to lick her shoes, you dirty, filthy little fucker!” Jakub hated this part of himself and worked very hard to keep his dark side under wraps. He wasn’t quite sure how he had let his guard down here, in front of Ms Livingston, but knew what he had to do to tuck his darker half back into the underbelly of his soul. He made sure that no one else was in the bathroom and then leaned against the door so no one could come in until he was done. Grabbing a handful of paper towels from the dispenser, turning on the faucet, he unzipped and put Buck to bed.
When Jakub left the bathroom and headed back toward the booth he was sharing with Ms Livingston, he stopped short when he saw one of the patrons sitting nearly on her in the booth. They were kissing and laughing. He got to the booth in what felt like one huge step, grabbing the man from off Ms Livingson and tossing him into the tables behind him. “Have some respect for one of the best actresses ever!” “Don’t you know who this IS?!” “You worthless, no good piece of dog shit!” “Don’t even look at her again!” “GET OUT!!”
“Baby, I was just having a little fun.” “Don’t get mad.” “Baby, he just wanted to talk.”
Jakub felt Ms Livingston pawing at his backside to get him to turn around and let her know that he was not mad at her and that he was still her adoring fan. He spun around, almost causing her to tumble onto the floor. “Don’t do that again.” “Let’s go,” he snapped at her, tossing money to Doris at the counter.
Nora stumbled and fumbled out of the booth and onto her feet, realizing that the shoes she had on did not match and that one heel was taller than the other. It made walking while sober a bit more challenging than it should be.
“Wait!” “Jack.” “Whatever your name was.” “Wait for me, please.” It was the please that stopped Jakub at the door. A deep breath allowed him to turn around and apologize for his brusqueness. “Ms Livingston, please accept my apology for being rude.” “I thought that man was hurting you and I couldn’t bear for anything to happen to you on my watch.”
Nora arrived at the door as Jakub finished is apology, tripping into him when she slipped on something wet on the floor. He caught her and felt the ecstasy starting to move in again. He stood her upright and suggested to Doris that she clean up the floor before someone got hurt.
The sunlight burned her swollen and bloodshot eyes. Now she remembered why she hated to go out during the day - the fucking sun hurt! Wiping away the tears that sun forced from her eyes, she lost sight of Jakub for a few moments. In those moments, she pondered if she should bother to look for him or if she should just move on to her next party. Wrapped in a constant shroud of self-loathing, she opted to move on. Jakub, on the other hand, had other ideas. “Ms Livingston,” she heard him say curtly, “My car is over here.” Before she had the opportunity to turn away, he had her but the arm and was guiding her toward his sedan. “OOhh, so you like the rough stuff, huh?” she quipped. She didn’t know why his laughter made all the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end or why she felt very sick to her stomach all of a sudden. She was very tired so shrugged it off as part of her hangover. If only she had listened to her gut.
The care Jakub took with her those first few weeks was beyond belief for someone she had only just met. She went through withdrawal hard. Jakub was there, holding her hair when she puked. Placing cool cloths on her when she was burning up. Nora couldn’t tell dreams from reality as her body purged itself from all the crap she had constantly put into. She would occasionally wake up from a fitful sleep and see Jakub sitting and watching her. Nora blamed the detox for the times she saw a Jakub sitting there that didn’t feel like Jakub. That Jakub made her want to flee from the room or crawl into a small, dark corner and hide, neither of which she was remotely capable of doing. There was something in his eyes that terrified her, but when morning came and Jakub brought her coffee and toast, he was the Jakub she had first met, not the one of her dreams.
As her body acclimated to it’s sober life, she felt more alive and stronger every day. Her relationship with Jakub was refreshing. He didn’t want anything from her other than someone to talk to. No sex. No expectations. Nothing. All he seemed to want was for her to be happy. When she would weaken and feel the pulls of her former life, he would distract her with teaching her something new. For some reason, he made it OK for her not to have these things. There was a calmness and comfort about him that put her at ease, at least most of the time. They would take walks along the nearby lake and stay up late into the night, talking and laughing. Jakub was her true friend. Something Nora had not had in a very long time. Maybe ever. From a young girl until her quick rise to stardom at 18, people had always been there for her but none were truly a friend. She hung around a few other starlets but they just used each other to meet other actors or to get into better parties. It wasn’t a true friendship like the one she had now. Whenever she tried to tell Jakub this, she just wandered off into thought, thinking that if she verbally acknowledged it, it would burst like a bubble and she would awaken on some dirty couch in some smoky apartment or the county jail. One of the local cops was a zombie movie aficionado and whenever he found her drunk, high or both, wandering the streets, he would always take her in and let her sleep it off. He would have to cut her loose in the morning, but it made him feel good to give the Zombie Queen of the Apocalypse a bed for the night.
Thursday, July 21, 2016
July 21, 2016
Whew! Story almost lost to the computer....but amazingly showed up on my desktop this morning!! I tried to post it yesterday and somehow managed to lose it or so I thought. Either the computer minions or my amazing husband placed it where I could find it and share with y'all today. (Sorry, recently watched Bridemaids and the y'all kinda of stuck with me :-)
From Punk to Pearls
MPOTOCKI
Black. Katie was so tired of black. Ever since Kelly, or K-9 as she had asked to be called, had embraced the punk side, everything she wore, used, liked or that was in any way affiliated with her, was black. Katie hoped that her daughter was just going through a phase as all teens do, but this was a bit much for a phase. She had herself, gone through a phase or two finding herself as a teenager, but it had been mostly for show and to irk her extremely straight-laced parents.
Kelly was immersed, body, mind and soul. The line was drawn at painting her room black but that didn’t stop her from tacking up dark, apocalyptic images or just black paper. Katie opted to drop that fight though she did stick to her guns about dead, dying or violent images. She certainly couldn’t control what Kelly had going on in her heart or head, but she could certainly keep it from her home.
Katie glanced at her watch as she closed Kelly’s bedroom door. The night blinds kept all light out so time there was a perpetual night. Very much a reflection of their current relationship. As Kelly traveled along the punk path, the exchanges between mother and daughter became as equally dark. They were short, staccato interchanges edged with anger and bitterness from Kelly and frustration and hopelessness for Katie.
Katie’s eyes moistened as she walked back into the light of day, remembering the day Kelly was born. Everything was white and sterile and after working for 34 hours to push this little creature from her interior, Katie met Kelly for the first time. She saw a beautiful baby girl with five little fingers and five little toes and so much potential wrapped in that little bundle, topped off with a pink and blue striped hat. Her husband, Hank, said she looked like a little old man to which Katie scoffed back that she was the most beautiful baby ever.
As Kelly grew from baby to toddler to little girl, she was the sweetest most happy person that Katie had known. Everyone remarked on it even after spending only a few moments with Kelly. The therapist Katie began seeing after Hank had been killed in a train wreck told her that Kelly needed to come too. That she needed a safe place to share all her feelings of grief and abandonment and anger where she would not be judged but helped to work through those to come through to the place where she could accept the tragedy in their lives. Kelly refused to go. Katie begged and pleaded and bribed, but Kelly would have none of it. That is when she began to turn to the darkside. The therapist said that this was a natural reaction and that it would pass, but Katie was becoming more and more sure that it would not pass and the feeling that it left her with was one of despair and fear. Fear for the life of her daughter. Dancing at the edge of her thoughts and terrorizing her in her dreams at night, was the thought that Kelly would kill herself or others at some point. Katie was reaching the end of her rope and running out of ways to tell herself it was OK, that it was a phase and she’ll be her happy, social self again soon. The slamming of the front door brought Katie back from her thoughts.
“Hello Kel, I mean K-9.” “How was your day?”
Another door slamming was her only response. Kelly had retreated to her other sanctuary, the basement, to paint or write or do whatever else she did in the sub-darkness of her existence. Katie, as always, worked very hard to embrace the positive and headed to the kitchen to make dinner. She would make tacos, which usually brought at least a ‘thanks’ from Kelly. It had always been her favorite meal. At least Katie would be able to hear her voice. Something that Kelly rarely used these days, at least at home in the presence of her mom.
Kelly marched loudly down the stairs and dropped onto the futon. It had been a long day at school, filled with taunts and jibes by her classmates who no longer cared to try and accept her new incarnation. After her dad died, they cut her some slack. It had been over a year now and they were tired of letting the opportunity to poke fun at her go. She had no friends. Even the other punk and goth kids didn’t want to hang with her. Of course, she put out no effort to try and make a friend. She was perfectly miserable keeping a far distance from any emotion that might attach itself to her cold, steeled heart and that was just how she liked it.
She reached for the photo albums she kept hidden in a locked crate. She suspected her mom of trying to open it to discover its contents, but Kelly was confident that even if her mom was able to pry it open, she would not discover it’s hidden contents under the false bottom. This is where she hid her joy and happiness and the girl that she was before her dad died. She dropped the book on the futon, got up and put on the loudest, darkest CD she could find and hit play, working the volume to the point just before she could expect her mother to pound on the floor in an attempt to tell her it was too loud. Kelly stopped at the blood-red line she had drawn in nail polish on the stereo to indicate just how loud she could go before forcing an interaction with her mother.
Returning to the futon, she gingerly picked up and held the photo album and started at the beginning: the day she was born. This album went until her first birthday. Since her mom took most of the photos, those that had anyone other than herself in them were of her dad. She felt the rage and anger and sadness begin to creep up within her like a bad case of acid reflux. She could taste the bile and choked it back with a slug of Coke, continuing her dive into the abyss that used to be her life. Hardly caring that her face was wet with tears and the photos blurred through tear-soaked eyes, she lingered on every happy moment she saw in the book. She didn’t remember any of it, but she could read volumes in the faces of the others in the photos. She so very much wanted to go back to that place but was so very, very lost. She missed her dad something fierce and missed her mom almost as much, which was even worse because her mom was here. Kelly just didn’t know how to start to talk to her mom, so didn’t.
She stood, closing the album after reaching the last page, setting it down in the false bottomed crate. Before she closed it, she took out the sweet, sweet bearer of feeling. Her father didn’t often shave with a blade, but when he did, he used the pearl-handled straight razor that had been his father’s. Kelly had taken it the day he died, not knowing why at the time. Now it was her only friend. She reached for the red towel she kept folded in the basement bathroom, closed the bathroom door and took off her clothes. Staring at herself in the mirror, she saw a corpse riddled with gashes and scars from either the accident that had taken its life or the life that had created the accident. After lying out the towel on the floor, she sat down upon it, leaning against the door and searched for the spot on her milky flesh that was begging to meet her friend.
Katie always wondered what Kelly did in the basement that caused her temporary abatement of the blackness. It never lasted longer than a few hours, but she would bound up the stairs in her pink robe without her usual grimace and for that brief few hours, it was like it had been before. Kelly was by no means chatty, but she would respond when asked a question and occasionally offer a unsolicited comment, a slightly less obscure glimpse into her life. Katie would absorb that time and try desperately to hold on to it like a life raft, knowing that the seas of their existence would soon again rise and swell with the return of the darkness.
Only once had Katie asked Kelly what she did in her time in the basement that always resulted in a more tolerable mood. Kelly had not talked to her for nearly a month after that and Katie decided, upon recommendation of her shrink, that she not ask again. She did; however, check the basement thoroughly for drugs and alcohol, finding only the usual bathroom vanity items that she herself had put there.
She did find the locked trunk and dwelled on that for a few days before busting into it only to find the photos and pieces of their lives from before Hank had died. Katie really wanted to believe that those glimpses to happy times past was enough for Kelly to come back to her, if only for a little while, but her gut told her that was only part of it. She felt there was more, but could not find evidence of it and Kelly sure as hell wasn’t going to volunteer that particular bit of information.
Katie was very lucky this evening as Kelly was so much more herself than usual that they actually watched a movie together, popcorn and all and she was the recipient of a half-hug along with a ‘Night, Mom,’ from Kelly before she headed up to bed. Even thought the hug was only a few seconds, it felt like years to Katie. Her human contact since Hank had died was virtually non-existent, even though Kelly was there. As a little girl, Kelly had always wanted to snuggle and cuddle. Neither Hank nor Katie could deny her this request. Even as a teenager, she would still toss out the occasional group hug or plop down on one of their laps after a long day at school. This stopped the day that Hank didn’t come home from work.
The day started like every other day with fights over the bathroom, quick breakfasts and the gathering of briefcases and backpacks. Air kisses were given and they all headed their separate ways for the day. Kelly to school. Katie to yoga class and Hank to the train station to catch the 7:40 into the city. Absolutely nothing special about that morning. It had been the same as hundreds before it. Kelly sent her usual texts to her dad at lunch and study hall, complaining how bored she was and how she couldn’t wait until the day was over so she could do what she wanted to do. Both of them knew that meant eating in front of the computer or TV, but wasn’t that what the life of a teenager was all about?
Hank called once he arrived at the train station, usually about 6:15pm, to find out if anything was needed from town before he drove home. It was Katie’s cue that if dinner was not started, that it should be soon. It took him about 20 minutes to drive to their house from the station. Katie looked forward to those 20 minutes, eagerly anticipating news from the outside world. After Kelly had been born, they had decided that it was best if she stayed at home. It had be wonderful and Katie was thankful that she had been able to raise her daughter without the need for daycare or outside help. It had been hard at first, but she grew into it and found it hard to consider doing anything else.
She and Hank had talked about her going back to school or finding a job once Kelly started high school. Though Katie wanted to do something, she just didn’t know what. She started taking classes at the community college to try and find herself. She laughed whenever she thought about that turn of phrase. Most people find themselves after high school and/or college. Here she was, at 40, trying to find out who she was. It was scary and exciting all at the same time. She definitely gravitated toward the arts, which shouldn’t have been a huge surprise. Katie had always like making things with her hands and had considered going to college for art. Her parents, on the other hand, were not going to allow their daughter to fall into the pit of starving artists and bullied her into learning something practical. Katie ended up getting her degree in business and spend the first few years out of college as the executive assistant for the CEO of a company her uncle worked for. She hated it. At least until she met Hank.
Whew! Story almost lost to the computer....but amazingly showed up on my desktop this morning!! I tried to post it yesterday and somehow managed to lose it or so I thought. Either the computer minions or my amazing husband placed it where I could find it and share with y'all today. (Sorry, recently watched Bridemaids and the y'all kinda of stuck with me :-)
From Punk to Pearls
MPOTOCKI
Black. Katie was so tired of black. Ever since Kelly, or K-9 as she had asked to be called, had embraced the punk side, everything she wore, used, liked or that was in any way affiliated with her, was black. Katie hoped that her daughter was just going through a phase as all teens do, but this was a bit much for a phase. She had herself, gone through a phase or two finding herself as a teenager, but it had been mostly for show and to irk her extremely straight-laced parents.
Kelly was immersed, body, mind and soul. The line was drawn at painting her room black but that didn’t stop her from tacking up dark, apocalyptic images or just black paper. Katie opted to drop that fight though she did stick to her guns about dead, dying or violent images. She certainly couldn’t control what Kelly had going on in her heart or head, but she could certainly keep it from her home.
Katie glanced at her watch as she closed Kelly’s bedroom door. The night blinds kept all light out so time there was a perpetual night. Very much a reflection of their current relationship. As Kelly traveled along the punk path, the exchanges between mother and daughter became as equally dark. They were short, staccato interchanges edged with anger and bitterness from Kelly and frustration and hopelessness for Katie.
Katie’s eyes moistened as she walked back into the light of day, remembering the day Kelly was born. Everything was white and sterile and after working for 34 hours to push this little creature from her interior, Katie met Kelly for the first time. She saw a beautiful baby girl with five little fingers and five little toes and so much potential wrapped in that little bundle, topped off with a pink and blue striped hat. Her husband, Hank, said she looked like a little old man to which Katie scoffed back that she was the most beautiful baby ever.
As Kelly grew from baby to toddler to little girl, she was the sweetest most happy person that Katie had known. Everyone remarked on it even after spending only a few moments with Kelly. The therapist Katie began seeing after Hank had been killed in a train wreck told her that Kelly needed to come too. That she needed a safe place to share all her feelings of grief and abandonment and anger where she would not be judged but helped to work through those to come through to the place where she could accept the tragedy in their lives. Kelly refused to go. Katie begged and pleaded and bribed, but Kelly would have none of it. That is when she began to turn to the darkside. The therapist said that this was a natural reaction and that it would pass, but Katie was becoming more and more sure that it would not pass and the feeling that it left her with was one of despair and fear. Fear for the life of her daughter. Dancing at the edge of her thoughts and terrorizing her in her dreams at night, was the thought that Kelly would kill herself or others at some point. Katie was reaching the end of her rope and running out of ways to tell herself it was OK, that it was a phase and she’ll be her happy, social self again soon. The slamming of the front door brought Katie back from her thoughts.
“Hello Kel, I mean K-9.” “How was your day?”
Another door slamming was her only response. Kelly had retreated to her other sanctuary, the basement, to paint or write or do whatever else she did in the sub-darkness of her existence. Katie, as always, worked very hard to embrace the positive and headed to the kitchen to make dinner. She would make tacos, which usually brought at least a ‘thanks’ from Kelly. It had always been her favorite meal. At least Katie would be able to hear her voice. Something that Kelly rarely used these days, at least at home in the presence of her mom.
Kelly marched loudly down the stairs and dropped onto the futon. It had been a long day at school, filled with taunts and jibes by her classmates who no longer cared to try and accept her new incarnation. After her dad died, they cut her some slack. It had been over a year now and they were tired of letting the opportunity to poke fun at her go. She had no friends. Even the other punk and goth kids didn’t want to hang with her. Of course, she put out no effort to try and make a friend. She was perfectly miserable keeping a far distance from any emotion that might attach itself to her cold, steeled heart and that was just how she liked it.
She reached for the photo albums she kept hidden in a locked crate. She suspected her mom of trying to open it to discover its contents, but Kelly was confident that even if her mom was able to pry it open, she would not discover it’s hidden contents under the false bottom. This is where she hid her joy and happiness and the girl that she was before her dad died. She dropped the book on the futon, got up and put on the loudest, darkest CD she could find and hit play, working the volume to the point just before she could expect her mother to pound on the floor in an attempt to tell her it was too loud. Kelly stopped at the blood-red line she had drawn in nail polish on the stereo to indicate just how loud she could go before forcing an interaction with her mother.
Returning to the futon, she gingerly picked up and held the photo album and started at the beginning: the day she was born. This album went until her first birthday. Since her mom took most of the photos, those that had anyone other than herself in them were of her dad. She felt the rage and anger and sadness begin to creep up within her like a bad case of acid reflux. She could taste the bile and choked it back with a slug of Coke, continuing her dive into the abyss that used to be her life. Hardly caring that her face was wet with tears and the photos blurred through tear-soaked eyes, she lingered on every happy moment she saw in the book. She didn’t remember any of it, but she could read volumes in the faces of the others in the photos. She so very much wanted to go back to that place but was so very, very lost. She missed her dad something fierce and missed her mom almost as much, which was even worse because her mom was here. Kelly just didn’t know how to start to talk to her mom, so didn’t.
She stood, closing the album after reaching the last page, setting it down in the false bottomed crate. Before she closed it, she took out the sweet, sweet bearer of feeling. Her father didn’t often shave with a blade, but when he did, he used the pearl-handled straight razor that had been his father’s. Kelly had taken it the day he died, not knowing why at the time. Now it was her only friend. She reached for the red towel she kept folded in the basement bathroom, closed the bathroom door and took off her clothes. Staring at herself in the mirror, she saw a corpse riddled with gashes and scars from either the accident that had taken its life or the life that had created the accident. After lying out the towel on the floor, she sat down upon it, leaning against the door and searched for the spot on her milky flesh that was begging to meet her friend.
Katie always wondered what Kelly did in the basement that caused her temporary abatement of the blackness. It never lasted longer than a few hours, but she would bound up the stairs in her pink robe without her usual grimace and for that brief few hours, it was like it had been before. Kelly was by no means chatty, but she would respond when asked a question and occasionally offer a unsolicited comment, a slightly less obscure glimpse into her life. Katie would absorb that time and try desperately to hold on to it like a life raft, knowing that the seas of their existence would soon again rise and swell with the return of the darkness.
Only once had Katie asked Kelly what she did in her time in the basement that always resulted in a more tolerable mood. Kelly had not talked to her for nearly a month after that and Katie decided, upon recommendation of her shrink, that she not ask again. She did; however, check the basement thoroughly for drugs and alcohol, finding only the usual bathroom vanity items that she herself had put there.
She did find the locked trunk and dwelled on that for a few days before busting into it only to find the photos and pieces of their lives from before Hank had died. Katie really wanted to believe that those glimpses to happy times past was enough for Kelly to come back to her, if only for a little while, but her gut told her that was only part of it. She felt there was more, but could not find evidence of it and Kelly sure as hell wasn’t going to volunteer that particular bit of information.
Katie was very lucky this evening as Kelly was so much more herself than usual that they actually watched a movie together, popcorn and all and she was the recipient of a half-hug along with a ‘Night, Mom,’ from Kelly before she headed up to bed. Even thought the hug was only a few seconds, it felt like years to Katie. Her human contact since Hank had died was virtually non-existent, even though Kelly was there. As a little girl, Kelly had always wanted to snuggle and cuddle. Neither Hank nor Katie could deny her this request. Even as a teenager, she would still toss out the occasional group hug or plop down on one of their laps after a long day at school. This stopped the day that Hank didn’t come home from work.
The day started like every other day with fights over the bathroom, quick breakfasts and the gathering of briefcases and backpacks. Air kisses were given and they all headed their separate ways for the day. Kelly to school. Katie to yoga class and Hank to the train station to catch the 7:40 into the city. Absolutely nothing special about that morning. It had been the same as hundreds before it. Kelly sent her usual texts to her dad at lunch and study hall, complaining how bored she was and how she couldn’t wait until the day was over so she could do what she wanted to do. Both of them knew that meant eating in front of the computer or TV, but wasn’t that what the life of a teenager was all about?
Hank called once he arrived at the train station, usually about 6:15pm, to find out if anything was needed from town before he drove home. It was Katie’s cue that if dinner was not started, that it should be soon. It took him about 20 minutes to drive to their house from the station. Katie looked forward to those 20 minutes, eagerly anticipating news from the outside world. After Kelly had been born, they had decided that it was best if she stayed at home. It had be wonderful and Katie was thankful that she had been able to raise her daughter without the need for daycare or outside help. It had been hard at first, but she grew into it and found it hard to consider doing anything else.
She and Hank had talked about her going back to school or finding a job once Kelly started high school. Though Katie wanted to do something, she just didn’t know what. She started taking classes at the community college to try and find herself. She laughed whenever she thought about that turn of phrase. Most people find themselves after high school and/or college. Here she was, at 40, trying to find out who she was. It was scary and exciting all at the same time. She definitely gravitated toward the arts, which shouldn’t have been a huge surprise. Katie had always like making things with her hands and had considered going to college for art. Her parents, on the other hand, were not going to allow their daughter to fall into the pit of starving artists and bullied her into learning something practical. Katie ended up getting her degree in business and spend the first few years out of college as the executive assistant for the CEO of a company her uncle worked for. She hated it. At least until she met Hank.
Tuesday, July 19, 2016
July 19, 2016
A blank slate of a day to fill. Daunting? Yes. Exciting? Yes. Letting the caffeine energize my groggy self should help get me started. I have a list...always a list of things to do. But what to do first? Of course, it is putting another piece of myself out into the world. Cheers!
Buford’s Head
MPOTOCKI
Synopsis: Summers with Pops were always interesting. But this summer proved to be something Carls could never have imagined, especially when the key ingredients involved a bowling ball, a Rusty Gates and a young girl’s heart.
Much of the time Carls enjoyed her grandfather’s eccentricities. It was the best thing about her summer stays at his farm. The last couple of years had been a bit more challenging then interesting. Could just be that she was getting older and it just wasn’t as fun as it was when she was a child. She was 16 now, nearly an adult and less interested in Pops’ crazy antics and more so into time spent on the phone talking to her girlfriends, the latest cool songs and, of course, boys.
Today’s antics involved the annual erection of the scarecrow. Pops wasn’t feeling well, so asked Carls to man the show solo. As minutes dragged into hours, she became more frustrated and less interested in finishing this annual chore.
“Only Pops would expect a bowling ball to be the ‘proper head’ for a scarecrow.” “A scarecrow!!” she muttered to the headless, straw-stuffed body nailed to the post. When Pops set his mind to something, there was little use in arguing. He found his old bowling ball in the closet and thought that the thumb hole would be the perfect way to mount the head onto Buford’s body.
Carls her morning getting the head onto the post only to watch it teeter for a bit, fall, then roll into the cornfield, playing hide ‘n seek like a small child. One of her seeking treks brought an unexpected turn to the day.
Pops had pretty much stopped farming over a decade ago, but stuff still grew here and there. As Carls was muttering hotly under her breath, looking for Buford’s head for the umpteenth time, she stepped through a row of tall corn to find an open space. Lying on a lounge chair, drinking lemonade, catching some sun, was a man.
“Sup, Sunshine?” “Buford’s head went that way,” as he pointed to his right. “Lovely day to be alive.” “Lemonade?”
Reaching into the cooler next to him, he pulled out an icy glass of what looked like freshly squeezed lemonade.
“Made it this morning before heading out to see what the day would bring.”
Awestruck, Carls could only nod. All thoughts of Buford’s head, Pops, everything but the man in front of her, melted away as she gazed upon this very tan, very topless and extremely good looking man in the middle of Pops’ cornfield.
“What....?” “Who...?” Carls stammered as he rose to bring her the sweating glass.
“Name’s Rusty,” he said with the most beautiful smile she had ever seen. “Rusty Gates.”
Just as their hands briefly touched in the glass exchange, Pops came charging through the field, shotgun in hand. “Stay away from her you hippie!” “Back away or I’ll shoot your head clean off!”
Rusty broke into another smile as he stepped away from Carls. “Nothing to worry about, sir.” “Just passing through and offering a cold beverage to this young lady, who, I might add, has had quite the morning.” “She’s been trying to put a bowling ball onto a post to complete a scarecrow.” “Darnedest thing I’ve ever seen.” “Puts it up just to have it fall down and roll into the field.” “Kept calling it Buford and saying something about how Pops had finally lost it.” “Buford’s head is that way,” Rusty said as he pointed to where the ball had last rolled.
“Buford,” Pops said, a bit surprised that this stranger knew about his scarecrow. “Carls, come over here to me.” “And you.” “You need to leave before I call the Sheriff.” “Not sure where you’re from, but trespassin’s still illegal in these parts.” “What are doing here anyway?”
“Sir.” “Name’s Rusty Gates and I was on my way to apply for a job with a Mr. Todd Leon.” “Know him?” “There’s no addresses on any of the houses ‘round here and I just stopped for an afternoon siesta before continuing on my way.” “Didn’t mean no harm.” “Just passin’ through.”
“You looking for Todd Leon, huh?” “Well,” Pops said as he lowered the shotgun and extended his hand to shake. “Looks like you found him.” “I’m Todd Leon.” “This here is my granddaughter, Carls Shaye.”
Carls was standing there, watching this unfold like some TV show, when all she could do was start laughing. Laughing at the futility of using a bowling ball for the head of a scarecrow, the oddness of finding a half-naked man in the cornfield having lemonade, the ferocity of her grandfather coming to her aid and that she should have expected it all.
They sat in that open patch in her grandfather’s field the rest of the afternoon, drinking lemonade and swapping stories. Rusty was the most amazing man Carls had ever met. It seemed hardly possible that he was only a few years older than she was. He had seen and done so much but the stories that she and Pops told him about their summers on the farm together made him laugh. Carls never appreciated her grandfather’s oddness more than now. It wove a connection with another human being. Carls was often shy around strangers, but not with Rusty. They connected from the beginning and that connection grew stronger with the passing summer. Pops hired Rusty there, that day. The three of them spent every afternoon in that sunny spot in the cornfield, enjoying the company of kindred souls.
Carls experienced many firsts that summer. Her first major crush turned first summer romance. Her first kiss. Her first heartbreak. Come the end of the summer, Rusty packed up his few belongings and headed out without even a good-bye. He left Carls an amazing poem and urged her to continue their afternoon siestas until she left for school. She couldn’t do it for about a week, still nursing her broken heart, but on the day she left the farm, she walked out to their spot in the field and found a sea of flowers around an album of photos of their summer together resting against Buford’s head.
A blank slate of a day to fill. Daunting? Yes. Exciting? Yes. Letting the caffeine energize my groggy self should help get me started. I have a list...always a list of things to do. But what to do first? Of course, it is putting another piece of myself out into the world. Cheers!Buford’s Head
MPOTOCKI
Synopsis: Summers with Pops were always interesting. But this summer proved to be something Carls could never have imagined, especially when the key ingredients involved a bowling ball, a Rusty Gates and a young girl’s heart.
Much of the time Carls enjoyed her grandfather’s eccentricities. It was the best thing about her summer stays at his farm. The last couple of years had been a bit more challenging then interesting. Could just be that she was getting older and it just wasn’t as fun as it was when she was a child. She was 16 now, nearly an adult and less interested in Pops’ crazy antics and more so into time spent on the phone talking to her girlfriends, the latest cool songs and, of course, boys.
Today’s antics involved the annual erection of the scarecrow. Pops wasn’t feeling well, so asked Carls to man the show solo. As minutes dragged into hours, she became more frustrated and less interested in finishing this annual chore.
“Only Pops would expect a bowling ball to be the ‘proper head’ for a scarecrow.” “A scarecrow!!” she muttered to the headless, straw-stuffed body nailed to the post. When Pops set his mind to something, there was little use in arguing. He found his old bowling ball in the closet and thought that the thumb hole would be the perfect way to mount the head onto Buford’s body.
Carls her morning getting the head onto the post only to watch it teeter for a bit, fall, then roll into the cornfield, playing hide ‘n seek like a small child. One of her seeking treks brought an unexpected turn to the day.
Pops had pretty much stopped farming over a decade ago, but stuff still grew here and there. As Carls was muttering hotly under her breath, looking for Buford’s head for the umpteenth time, she stepped through a row of tall corn to find an open space. Lying on a lounge chair, drinking lemonade, catching some sun, was a man.
“Sup, Sunshine?” “Buford’s head went that way,” as he pointed to his right. “Lovely day to be alive.” “Lemonade?”
Reaching into the cooler next to him, he pulled out an icy glass of what looked like freshly squeezed lemonade.
“Made it this morning before heading out to see what the day would bring.”
Awestruck, Carls could only nod. All thoughts of Buford’s head, Pops, everything but the man in front of her, melted away as she gazed upon this very tan, very topless and extremely good looking man in the middle of Pops’ cornfield.
“What....?” “Who...?” Carls stammered as he rose to bring her the sweating glass.
“Name’s Rusty,” he said with the most beautiful smile she had ever seen. “Rusty Gates.”
Just as their hands briefly touched in the glass exchange, Pops came charging through the field, shotgun in hand. “Stay away from her you hippie!” “Back away or I’ll shoot your head clean off!”
Rusty broke into another smile as he stepped away from Carls. “Nothing to worry about, sir.” “Just passing through and offering a cold beverage to this young lady, who, I might add, has had quite the morning.” “She’s been trying to put a bowling ball onto a post to complete a scarecrow.” “Darnedest thing I’ve ever seen.” “Puts it up just to have it fall down and roll into the field.” “Kept calling it Buford and saying something about how Pops had finally lost it.” “Buford’s head is that way,” Rusty said as he pointed to where the ball had last rolled.
“Buford,” Pops said, a bit surprised that this stranger knew about his scarecrow. “Carls, come over here to me.” “And you.” “You need to leave before I call the Sheriff.” “Not sure where you’re from, but trespassin’s still illegal in these parts.” “What are doing here anyway?”
“Sir.” “Name’s Rusty Gates and I was on my way to apply for a job with a Mr. Todd Leon.” “Know him?” “There’s no addresses on any of the houses ‘round here and I just stopped for an afternoon siesta before continuing on my way.” “Didn’t mean no harm.” “Just passin’ through.”
“You looking for Todd Leon, huh?” “Well,” Pops said as he lowered the shotgun and extended his hand to shake. “Looks like you found him.” “I’m Todd Leon.” “This here is my granddaughter, Carls Shaye.”
Carls was standing there, watching this unfold like some TV show, when all she could do was start laughing. Laughing at the futility of using a bowling ball for the head of a scarecrow, the oddness of finding a half-naked man in the cornfield having lemonade, the ferocity of her grandfather coming to her aid and that she should have expected it all.
They sat in that open patch in her grandfather’s field the rest of the afternoon, drinking lemonade and swapping stories. Rusty was the most amazing man Carls had ever met. It seemed hardly possible that he was only a few years older than she was. He had seen and done so much but the stories that she and Pops told him about their summers on the farm together made him laugh. Carls never appreciated her grandfather’s oddness more than now. It wove a connection with another human being. Carls was often shy around strangers, but not with Rusty. They connected from the beginning and that connection grew stronger with the passing summer. Pops hired Rusty there, that day. The three of them spent every afternoon in that sunny spot in the cornfield, enjoying the company of kindred souls.
Carls experienced many firsts that summer. Her first major crush turned first summer romance. Her first kiss. Her first heartbreak. Come the end of the summer, Rusty packed up his few belongings and headed out without even a good-bye. He left Carls an amazing poem and urged her to continue their afternoon siestas until she left for school. She couldn’t do it for about a week, still nursing her broken heart, but on the day she left the farm, she walked out to their spot in the field and found a sea of flowers around an album of photos of their summer together resting against Buford’s head.
Monday, July 18, 2016
Recalculating......
July 18, 2016
I shouldn''t be surprised by this, but it took a trip to Europe to help me reset myself. I had already started down the road to entrepreneurship and getting back to my roots at my 'real' job before I left for Poland. Being there reminded me of all the good things we should hold on to each and every day: family, friends, companionship, history, enjoying the moment, living each day. Europeans just seem to have it all figured out. They walk and enjoy long dinners with those important to them. They don't rush, hidden behind smart phones, from one thing to the next. It really made me feel the 'teen angst' of America. We are so young and bold and feel we can take on anything, which is not a bad thing, but it is the trap of youth. One we all go through in order to move on into adulthood. I remember driving my car with its leaky gas tank, just out of college, waving at all those trying to point it out to me, thinking that I was invincible. I needed that to get to where I am today and as a country, we also need it, but it was so very nice to settle into the feeling of maturity that exudes from every cobblestone and statue and wrought-iron fixture in cities that are centuries older than anything in the US.So I reveled in every amazing detail of the buildings and the people and the food of Poland, soaking in the essence of what I wanted when I returned home. I journaled and took photos of it all. It was amazing!
My challege now is how to keep the momentum going here at home. I have begun marketing my new business venture and moved to part-time at work. I have done some much needed purging and cleaning and dove into art projects for the art shows we do in the fall, but that was not quite enough , so I am dusting off this blog I set up but never did anything with and I am going to write everyday. I have also decided that nearly everything I have written, at least those pieces I am willing to share, are also going to go into this blog. I write for myself but every writer, to some degree, wants to share that with others. Why else would they write?
So what piece to share first? I have many poems and short stories. A novel, even! But what first??? I have a short story, that is about a woman who loses her husband to cancer and decides to life the life they had talked about but never did.
Lilly’s Promise
MPOTOCKI
A 25 year romance ends in a battle lost to cancer.
In order for Lilly to continue on alone,
the voice of Mack tells the story of a simple carpenter and circus acrobat,
reminding Lilly of the amazing strength she has.
She left the hospital that warm spring morning, a widow. Her husband was down in the morgue awaiting the after death process that would eventually get him to the funeral home where everyone would pass along their condolences and tears and hugs, all in an attempt to make her feel better. None of it would help, but fortunately, she was numb so it couldn’t hurt. The last minutes of her life with Max in it played over and over in her mind. With her eyes open, it was merely audio. When she closed her eyes, it was in high-def.
Mack woke himself with a fit of coughing, complete with blood. His eyes were so tired and his face was wan and thin and had the unique pallor of grey that those near death possess. He tried to laugh it off, which was his way, but that just brought about another fit of coughing.
“Try not to talk, Mack.” “I can see what you want to say in your eyes.” “They were always your most readable feature.”
She tried to smile but felt it was forced and only a shadow of the smiles that had crossed her face over the years. She opted to just hold her lips closed, hoping that it looked more natural. Mack dozed in and out of consciousness, floating in a morphine haze. The doctors told her that it wouldn’t be long now. They had said their tearful good-byes a few days ago when Mack was a bit more coherent. She knew she needed to let go but couldn’t. Mack was so much to her and filled every part of her world that she had no idea what she would do or how she would go on without him. At the same time, she didn’t want his last moments on earth a picture of her losing it and carrying on uncontrollably.
His eyes fluttered and he drifted as close to her as he was capable of.
“Tell me something you have never told me before about yourself, Lilly.”
She thought for a moment and reached for her purse. She pulled out a bottle of lotion, got off the bed and pulled the nearby chair to his side so he could more easily see her hand.
“I’ve never shown this party trick to anyone.” “You’ll be the only one who knows my secret.”
She poured a capful of the lotion into her hand.
“I, the amazing Lilly can make the continent of Africa appear in my hand.”
As the lotion pooled into her palm, the outline of Africa appeared. She looked up at Mack. His smile bathed his face in a light so pure and soft, Lilly knew the end was here.
“You have always been amazing.” “I love you forever.” “See you on the other side.”
He closed his eyes and was gone. Lilly was sure she felt his soul rise out and leave through her because she felt closer to Mack at that moment than she ever had. Their entire 25 years together passed through her in a series of emotions and oddly enough, she felt at peace for that instant. The moment passed and she stood, went to the bathroom, washed the lotion off her hand, went back to Mack’s side, kissed him one last time at the special place on his neck that he liked her to kiss him, said good-bye and walked out of the hospital.
Reaching her car, Lilly’s dam against the ocean of tears she had staved off for the past month or so broke as she opened the door.
“What am I going to do without you, Mack?” she sobbed, collapsing into the driver’s seat.
She tried to hold onto all the good and wonderful times Mack had given her, but that only made her cry more. She started to pound the steering wheel giving anger an avenue of release, pushing the sadness into temporary retreat. The heat of anger filled her every pore. It wrapped itself into her, intertwined with the sadness and held her close.
“When did a ‘deathbed’ become ‘actively dying’?” she screamed to no one.
God how she hated politicians and their eagerness to force everything in life into a prepackaged mold of political correctness. Some things just shouldn’t be candy-coated. They were hard and real and made you feel like crap and were supposed to so that you can walk away after it a tougher-skinned, stronger person; someone who has added the ‘Death Badge’ to your life scout sash for all to see and revere. Lilly had just earned this badge but did not see any signs of being stronger at any point soon. All she felt was a melange of anger, self pity, sadness and exhaustion. She sat in her car for hours, screaming and sobbing and beating the car’s interior. She collapsed and fell asleep as the softness of the day’s end fell upon the earth.
A strong and constant tapping on the window brought her out of a fitful slumber.
“Ma’am.” “Ma’am, are you OK?” “Can I help you?” “Are you lost?”
Lilly sat up with a start.
“MACK!!” “Where’s Mack?” she demanded from the security guard leaning into her car to find out if she was one of the many drunk or drugged-up junkies who found open and empty cars to crash in at this edge of the hospital’s parking lot.
“Who is Mack?” “Was he with you?”
Sucking in a sob, she breathed out softly, “For 25 amazing years.” “Thank you, officer, I’m fine.”
She nudged him out of the door, closed it and turned the key. Nothing happened.
“Can I call someone for you, ma’am?” the guard asked.
Lilly tried the key once more and the engine roared to life as she pressed her foot down hard on the gas pedal.
“Thanks,” she said, dismissing him with a limp wave of her hand.
Lilly sped out of the parking lot, not having a clue where to go. Everyplace she knew had the imprint of Mack on it. She drove to the freeway and headed west. She had to be somewhere that Mack had never been to so she could figure out what to do next.
It was early morning and she passed a convoy of trucks hauling a circus to and from nowhere in particular. She passed the trucks with animals and those hauling the big top. She hadn’t been to a circus since she was a child. And never with Mack.
Her seatbelt pushed against her morning bladder and she needed to pee. Lilly took the next exit and found a diner/gas station. She pulled in, went to the ladies room, peed and freshened up a bit. She was a widow now, so had to look the part or something. She remembered what Mack had told her when he had been diagnosed with lung cancer.
“Babe,” he had said, holding her face in his hands. “You are the strongest person I know and I want you to live a long happy life even if I can’t share it all with you.” “Promise me you’ll try.” “No widow in black shrinking from life.” “I want you to get out there and follow your dreams.” “Promise me, Lilly.” “If you promise me that, I can make it through this, whatever happens.”
Of course she had promised him that. She never could deny him anything. He reminded her of this promise over and over while he fought against the cancer. He would win for a bit, then loose and they both knew that he would eventually loose it all, leaving her to fulfill her promise.
Lilly wasn’t really hungry but the coffee smelled good, so she sat down and ordered coffee and toast, more out of habit than need. Mack always had coffee and toast in the morning. The only time he had other breakfast fares was when he had breakfast for lunch or supper. What a strange, lovely man Mack was.
By the time the waitress brought her coffee and toast, Lilly was softly weeping. She quickly wiped her face and tried to pretend everything was OK and the waitress took the cue not to pry. Closing her eyes, she saw Mack across from her telling her about his day’s plans and what things needed doing. She enjoyed the smell of coffee and the feeling of Mack nearby and sat there for an hour or so. Lilly wasn’t in a hurry. Hell, she had nowhere to go and nothing to do, but she was feeling out of place here as the locals streamed in for the start of their day. She asked if she could prepay for gas along with her food, put in her $50 bucks of fuel and headed out to the open road again.
Her day was a roller coaster of emotions. She’d hear a song on the radio that made her think of Mack. Sometimes it was a happy memory and she would sing loudly along with the radio. Some songs made her so sad that she felt like crashing her car into anything to stop thinking.
When she stopped for a Coke later that morning, she fumbled around in her purse for some change for the soda machine and dropped to the ground when she found an envelope with her name on it, penned in Mack’s scrawl.
She trembled so much that she nearly ripped the envelope in half as she tried to open it. Lilly waited until she could quiet her body and tears. She had no idea when Mack had placed this in her purse, but it had to have been within the last week when he had a few incredible days where had he not known he had late stage cancer, he would never have believed the doctors had they told him then.
My Dearest Lilly,
Once there was a simple carpenter’s apprentice who never thought he
would be anything to anyone. He was just a lone spirit in a world he didn’t
quite understand. One hot July, the circus rolled into town and needed
the carpenter to work on some new projects before they moved on to
their next town. It was here that the apprentice saw a vision of what
life was really about in the form of a young acrobat. She was tall and
lithe and had an energy he could feel whenever she was around.
The projects required a few weeks of work and the young apprentice
found himself hanging out as much as he could to watch the acrobat. She
noticed him too, so lingered whenever he was around. Theirs was a
silent romance as both were too young, shy and unsure of themselves.
The day the circus left town was the day the apprentice found hope
and a strength he did not know he possessed. It drove him to go back
to school, graduate, go on to college and become an engineer. He never
forgot his muse, the young, beautiful acrobat. He went to every circus
he could for years to find her, but life isn’t always a simple or straight path
to where we are intended to go.
Meeting you was like coming home. When I had told you that, you laughed,
not quite believing it, but it truly was. I was that young carpenter’s
apprentice and you, my lovely Lilly were that young acrobat. We were
destined to be together from the start of time and will find each other again
in the next life and the next and the next.
Had Lilly not been sitting down, she would have fallen for sure. In that moment, she was 15 again, remembering the summer she saw ‘him’ and to find out that Mack and ‘him’ were the same person knocked the breathe right out of her. They had never spoken so didn’t know each other’s names or anything about each other, but their connection those few weeks that hot summer so long ago had stayed with Lilly. He had made her realize that there was a rich and full life out there beyond the circus tents and she began to crave it. This young silent boy had given her the drive to break free from the family business and strike out on her own in a world she yearned to know of. She loved him for that and the ache in her already wounded soul grew deeper. How would she go on alone? She had let the letter fall to the ground and saw there was more on the backside. Lilly stared at it for a long time before mustering up enough courage to pick it up and read on.
We’ve already lived without each other before, so I know, sweet Lilly, that
you can do so again now. Especially knowing that we will find one another
again. We are two pieces of a whole and will always be one. We found
strength from one another to change our lives without being together. Just
imagine what you can now do with 25 years of together.
Lilly, be happy. Enjoy life. Know that I am here, waiting patiently for you.
Yours forever,
Mack
Taped to the back of the letter was a torn piece from an old circus flyer. The images were yellowed and aged, but she knew the acrobat on the trapeze was her and her father was catching her. She remembered the routine well. Lilly laughed and wept for all the joy, happiness, wonderment and loss she saw in that photo.
“Mack, my dear, dear Mack, thank you for waiting to share this story with me until now.”
Lilly got back in her car, drove home, took care of the funeral arrangements and all the stuff that the end of a life brings. She sold the house and everything in it and became the photographer Mack always knew she could be. Every photo she took was for Mack and the love for him shown in every one. She spent the rest of her 87 years showing Mack the world, dreaming of the day when they would again be together.
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