Short Stories

A Very Catty Tale

            Veronica paced nervously, glancing often at the clock on the wall.  She stopped and stood frozen as he second hand hit the twelve.  “It’s three, thank God, it’s three,” she gasped as a smile crept across her well-glossed lips.  “Right now,” she thought, “it’s happening right this minute.”  If it weren’t for her co-workers’ presence she was certain that she would leap into the air and click her heals, but, decorum being what it was, heal clicking was not an option.

            “She’s gone, finally, she’s out of my life . . . no, our lives,” she muttered far enough from the ears of those she despised second of all, her co-workers.  The one she despised most was now gone.

            Veronica found out about “her” on their second anniversary.  How could Ken have actually believe that “she” would add to their lives?  Instead of a diamond bracelet or that cute fox stole she saw at Macy’s, Ken walked in with “her” draped across his arm.  “Happy Anniversary Darling!  Look what I have gotten you,” he said joyfully.  From that moment on Veronica’s life became a living hell.

            Every morning “she” was in their bed purring contently beside Ken as he slept, and every evening when they opened the door “she” would leap playfully into his arms.  But not today, no, not today.  There would no longer be any leaping, purring or any of the other millions of agonizingly painful tricks that bitch would pull to endear herself to Ken, because, after all, Ken was Veronica’s and not Nautica’s

            Veronica hummed and grinned to herself for the next two hours, barely able to contain her joy.  She simply could not wait to get home and see “her” gone.  When 5 o’clock arrived, Veronica ran excitedly for the elevator and furiously flagged down a taxi.  She was anxious to get home, a feeling that she had not had since that fateful day when he bought home that blonde bitch.

            Everything was as she had expected, the door was ajar, the note was in place and she, having rehearsed a thousand times in her mind, performed the obligatory shrieking and shaking called for by the presence of THE NOTE:

Listen, this is a kidnapping.  I want $10,000 in $20s so you better go to the bank because when I call you are going to have to deliver them.  If you call the police the cat is going to die.  Sincerely, the Bad Guy.

Veronica read the note, re-reading the part where “the cat is going to die,” which caused her to shudder.  The pure, unadulterated joy was impossible to contain.  Then, a giggle surfaced from her throat as she read, “the Bad Guy.”  “What an idiot!” she thought.  “Surely for 10 grand this moron could have been just a little more threatening.  The Bad Guy!  You would think I was dealing with children.”

            As the screaming and shaking part of the performance was complete, she pondered more the simplicity of the note.  “What if that idiot did get a kid to take that bitch?”  After looking around nervously for any forgotten clues, Veronica lifted the receiver and dialed the number with trembling hands.  She had memorized the number and burned the paper which contained it.  Simplicity being the key, it made no sense for her to keep information laying around for Ken to come across, she reasoned.  After two rings, an angry voice grunted, “What!”

            Despite herself, Veronica felt fear rise in her throat as she stuttered into the phone at the unknown woman on the other end.  “Echo?  Sharp told me if I had any questions I should call.  This is Veronica.”

            “I know who you are.  What the hell do you want?  Listen, you ain’t supposed to call until tomorrow, so this better be good because this damn cat of yours is giving me one hell of a headache.”

            “I was just wondering, well . . . did everything go smoothly?  You have the cat?  I mean, well, I read your note, and I was wondering about ‘the bad guy.’  Why did you sign it ‘the bad guy’?”

            “I didnt sign shit!  Sharp took care of the note.  Listen, you got a complaint file it under Sharp okay?  Now, is there anything else you want your highness?”

            “No, nothing, but are you going to call tonight or is Sharp, because I don’t know if Ken will take Sharp too seriously with that squeaky little voice of his.”

            “What’ya trying to say?  I sound like a guy or something?  Listen lady, you 5th Avenue types get way under my skin and this whole thing with the cat is idiotic beyond words.  If you plan to call me and add to the ’stupid bank’ be prepared to pay the fine, got it?  From now on, it’s a hundred for every stupid question or remark made by your dumb ass.”

            “Listen, you uneducated gutter snipe!  I am never spoken to like this and refuse to be spoken to like this by the hired help.  Do you understand me?”

            Echo just laughed a knowing laugh and without much ado said, “That’ll be a hundred dollars lady.”  With that, she hung up the phone.

            Veronica was beside herself with anger as tears of rage smeared her Estee Lauder’s Lady’s Finest No. 5 all down her cheeks.  Fortunately for her, tears were just the ticket as Ken sauntered into their apartment.

            “Veronica, Veronica!  What’s wrong?  Sweetums, you’re a mess.”

            He comforted her the best he could saying all the standard “Veronica’s crying” lines.  “Please darling let me fix it for your.  What does my Angelbaby want?  C’mon, darling, it can’t be that bad.  Surely I can do something to make my little Cutesypooh smile.”  Which, of course, was equivalent to the cha-ching made when any cash register opened to display its finery.

            “They took her Kenny.  They took our little Nautica.  Oh God!  She’s all alone.”  With that her sobs deepened as she buried her raccoon eyes into Ken’s Pierre Cardin.

            Ken roared, “huh?”

            “Yes Ken, they took Nautica away, they said they would kill her.  Can you imagine our little Nautica dead?”  She said as she hid the grin washing across her face by once again pressing her made up face into Ken’s well soiled shirt.

            Ken raged, “Maybe we can call the police, what do you think, huh honey pooh?”

            “No!  No we can’t.  Theyll kill her for sure.  No, we must be patient and wait.  We have money in the safe, done we?  You know, for emergencies.  I think there’s at least fifteen thousand dollars in there, remember?  We put it in last week.”

            Ken nodded and obediently turned and walked toward the bedroom.  He returned carrying a stack of $20s that Veronica so intuitively knew would someday come in handy.  Who would have thought that day would come so soon?  As Veronica and Ken waited for contact from the kidnappers they reminisced on the special moments that the three of them had shared.  “Oh Ken, look here, see this is the scar that she left when she attack . . . I mean leapt down from the top of the refrigerator on Christmas.  And look at those cute little claw marks at the bottom of the couch.  She simply loves Corinthian leather doesn’t she, the little darling!  I still remember when she made a no no on my new Coach jacket, oh and that time she killed that bird that flew in here and hit it in my leather pumps.  I never realized how cold and hard a bird could get in such a short time.  Oh God!  Im so going to miss her.”  With that, Veronica buried her face in her hands as her entire body convulsed.  She remained that way until the laughing fit had passed.  When she looked up, tears in her eyes, there was Ken looking at her tenderly.  It was a special moment for both of them.

            At 7 p.m. sharp the ring of the phone shattered their quite reflections and brought them back into the cool, clear light of reality.  After her earlier experience Veronica was dreading the next phase of the plan; however, like any other brilliant performer she rose to the occasion.

            “Hello?  The St. John residence.  May I help you?”

            “That, lady, is gonna cost you a hundred.  Now, wanna try for $10,300 or wanna start acting like a person?”

            “Give me back my baby,” whined Veronica, “you monster.”

            “Okay, let’s see, ‘give me back my baby’ will cost a hundred unless you’re a cat too.  And ‘you monster’ just rose the rate to $150.  Yup, lady, that gives us a grand total of $10,550.  Now shhhhhhh!  Do yourself a favor and be quiet now and maybe you can keep a little money to buy food or something, okay?  I want my 10,550 in a brown paper bag dropped off in the garbage can on East 16th Street and Kings Highway in Brooklyn.  Now, it should probably be you since this was all your brilliant idea.  And besides, I kinda like the idea of my homies seeing you serve me my money.”

            Veronica stood frozen as Echo continued amusing herself.  “Also, no cars, nope.  Want you to bring it on the train just like real people have to travel . . . Got it?  If I see you get out of a car, well, you don’t want to know how far I would go, okay?  Once the money is in my hand and you are well on your way, Ill gladly kill this clawing, whiney ass thing of yours.  But until then . . . she lives.  Got it?  Now, if you leave now you should be able to get here in an hour but I’ll be nice and give you an hour and a half, so you might wanna get your ass in gear there missy.”

            “Okay, okay you win.  I’ll bring it just please don’t hurt my kitty.”  You are a monster!  With that, Veronica hung up the phone and turned to her husband.  “They want $10,500 now or they’re gonna kill Nauty.  I have to go alone.  I’ll take a cab and change for the train right before I get there.  Those idiots will never know.”

             Ken, deathly worried about the welfare of his wife, shrugged and handed the money over to Veronica.  “Be careful darling,” he said.  “Don’t worry, once Nautica is safely home we will help her forget all of this trauma.  Maybe we can take a nice family vacation or something and . . . with enough time and attention . . . she’ll be her same, old, lovable self.”

            Veronica added each syllable out Ken’s mouth to the myriad of reasons she had used to justify the death of one so beloved beloved by Ken that was.  She raced outside, cash in hand, to wave down a taxi.  Once she arrived she quickly raced to the appointed garbage can and dropped the bag.  “Done,” she said to herself, “now I just have to go home and wait for the bad news.” 

            When she returned home she found her dearest safely tucked away, pajamas on, light out, traditional cup of water beside the bed as the faint murmur of words escaping his dreaming mind wafted toward her eager ears.  “Nautica, Nautica, itll be all right.”  Veronica looked down on him and thought, “with any luck you two will be together someday soon.”

            The next morning she awoke to Ken pouring cat food into the dish.  “No” thought Veronica, “this can’t be.  I paid them.  She’s dead.  They promised.”

            Quickly she went into the kitchen to see “her” there in her usual position beside Ken’s foot waiting, just waiting, for the silver bowl to touch down before her.  Ken looked up smiling a smile that can only be produced by a complete idiot.  Veronica searched his eyes for an explanation only to find that which she always finds, nothing.

            “Look Veronica, our little cutesy wootsey is back all safe and snuggly warm.  Why Veronica, you look so happy!  I believe I even see a tear.  I must confess, although I know it’s not very manly, I wept like a baby when I opened the door and saw her there.  I’ve been so busy with her that I haven’t even had a chance to read the note.”

            “Note?  There was a note?  Quick, where is it?”

            “Easy now, it’s on the mantle in the living room,” said Ken as he bent to his knees to adore “her” as she ate her Fancy Feast.

            Veronica trembled once again, but this time from an odd combination of fear and rage.  She looked at the note and began to weep.

Hey, glad you were able to bring our money so fast.  That cabbie was pretty fast.  Well, after counting our $10,000 exactly we just knew what we should do.  We wouldn’t want to prove ourselves idiots now would we?  Sincerely, the Monster.

            Veronica was defeated, beaten by some faceless bitch.  Everything was ruined.  Sadly she made her way back to the kitchen where “they” were the happy couple.

            “Darling,” said Ken, “did I ever tell you what made me choose Nautica above all other things for your gift?”

            “No,” said Veronica flatly.

            “It’s quite simple really.  After two full years of living with you I felt I knew you well enough; therefore, I bought you something that was exactly like you.  Sometimes I can be pretty Sharp you know?  But, the difference is, she is exactly what she seems.  Sure, she can be a little bitch, but she’s a cat and doesn’t pretend to be a dog.  That’s refreshing around here, wouldn’t you say?  Now, I don’t expect anything to happen to her again because I would hate to think what terrible things that Echo and Sharp would do to the poor bitch, wouldn’t you?”  With that he looked up with a wry smile and something she had never seen before in his eyes, life.  There was life behind those eyes after all.

 

 Cages Don’t Always Hold Birds

Elizabeth entered the small, empty apartment, tossd her bookbad onto the sofa and hurried to the well worn bench. Each step she took knowingly as the path to her world was well worn and as familiar to her as her own voice. As her fingers lovingly slid across the polished ivory, only occassionally tapping upon the cool black ebony, she entered her world. The musical land where nothing could harm her. For thirty minutes a day Elizabeth could see, not with her eyes but with her ears and her heart. Only the sound of her mother’s keys turning the unoiled lock of their front door could break the spell of Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy.”

Ann returned hom every day at precisely 4:15 P.M. The thirty mintues that her sightless daughter spent alone were the most agonizingly long minutes of her day. Necessity caused Ann to consider allowing her fourteen year old to stay alone after school; however, it was Elizabeth’s desperate plea for independence which sealed the deal. Ann lived and breathed for her daughter, existing solely to compensate for her failure to give Elizabeth sight at birth. Although she was struggling to provide for the two of them, Ann managed to scrape together enough money between tips, loans and the sale of her grandmother’s jewelry to buy Elizabeth the piano which she seemed to need.

Early in Elizabeth’s life Ann saw that for what her daughter lacked in sight, she was amply compensated for with intelligence. Her extraordinary ability was bolstered by years of intellectual conversations with her mother and a plethora of tutors. No matter how hard times might be, Ann always found the means to supply her daughter with the stimulations, which she had read somewhere in a magazine, every genius needed. This constant supply of culture and education resulted in Elizabeth’s love of classical music, and thus, the need to learn to play it.

Every evening Ann and Elizabeth shared a pleasant rite of passage. Ann would enter carrying the evening’s fare, dinner for two ala Tom’s Diner, to the sound of “The Entertainer,” a particular favorite shared by both. After taking her bow for once again safely arriving home, the two would embrace and begin to set the table. Although paper plates would seem ideal for the two, Ann always made a point of using her best china, service for eight obtained by saiving receipts from the local supermarket. She could not fathom any dinner companion more worthy of dining with on the most special plates in the house. There was, however, a more important reason for using the china. By giving Elizabeth the responsibility for setting the table with such fragile plates, Ann proved the amount of faith she had in her little girl. Only once had Elizabeth faltered. After many tears had fallen, by Elizabeth for her failure and Ann for Elizabeth’s pain, Ann handed Elizabeth another plate saying, “Enough of this, I’m starving.”

After dinner they cleared the table together and retired to the drawing room, conveniently located three paces from the kitchen table. There they caught up on the day’s events. All lookign lovingly at her daughter, attentively drinking in the tales of who did what to whom and which girl liked which boy. The sound of Elizabeth’s voice was an elixir straight from the fountain of youth. She studied Elizabeth’s features as she spoke, looking for signs of change from girlhood to womanhood, fearing each noticed difference. Her chestnut hair, once long and in plaits, was now replaced by a shorter, more sophisticated look. Gone was the baby fat which once rounded Elizabeth’s rosy face, replaced by the chiseled chin and high cheekbones that was one more inheritance from her grandmother. Ann sighed knowing that her little girl would not be her little girl for long.

After Ann regaled her daughter with the stories, both real and made to order, of the customers she had encountered that day, Elizabeth would move to the bench – her bench – and play for her mother.

Thus, the two lived each day as an instant reply of the day before, never tiring of their ritual. For Ann, her little girl was her sole purpose in life. For Elizabeth, music filled a void that would otherwise be filled with friends. There were moments when Ann believed that she was being selfish by not encouraging Elizabeth to pursue friendships, but she would quickly dismiss such thoughts as she knew she was protecting her daughter. Life was cruel and dangerous to a sighted person, let alone for one whose world was cast in darkness. Ann proudly took on the role of sentry, guarding Elizabeth’s little heart from the suffering which she knew lay just outside their safe haven. Diligent was she in her duty to protect, and with her steely determination, no one would ever break this heart she held so dea. The shelter that Ann had built around her daughter was made of stone, impenetrable by all until . . .

“Beth, honey, are you okay?” called Ann tentatively into the silent apartment. “Elizabeth? Sweetie.”

Out of the darkened room came a meek and shaky voice, “Mom, I’m over here. I’m okay.” Relieved to hear her daughter’s voice, but apprehensive to what she would find, Ann walked unsteadily toward where she heard her daughter. She found her sitting on the bench with her back toward the piano, her eyes swollen with tears, trembling. Racing to her daughter’s side she threw her arms around her. Then suddenly, strangely, rather than melt into her mother as she had done before, Elizabeth stiffened. Ann recoiled as if bitten, looking warily at her daughter, who no longer cried. Before anything was said, Elizabeth looked to her mother and asked, “Why?”

Like lightning suddenly illuminating the evening sky, Ann knew what the question meant. Backing away from her daughter and dropping to the sofa quickly to keep her legs from giving out. What could she say? How to explain without hurting her precious gem? She had always been honest before, but how can you tell your daughter that you don’t believe she is strong enough to handle life, that the world will just chew her up and spit her out? She looked to her daughter and asked her, “How did you find out? Who told you?”

Elizabeth was enraged at her mother, perhaps for the first time in her life, and could not believe that she would have the nerve to answer her with a question. “What difference does it make how I fould out! How could you? That was my dream, my dream not yours, and you just throw it away. What, I’m not good enough? If I’m so bad, then, why do they want me? Do you know how many scholarships they give out? How about how many scholarships to the blind? THEY really and truly want me!”

Ann’s world was spinning out of control. How could she explain? Words snuck past her brain and out of her mouth. From fear? Desperation? “You are good enough, you are. I know how much this means to you, but I also know how hard it will be. If it were only the piano you would be fine. But you are comfortable here aren’t you sweetie?” Ann continued as she tried to regain control – to regain trust. “Peoply know you, your teachers love you. Why do you want to risk all of that? It’s harder than you think out there. Especially for someone who . . . well, someone as inexperienced as you.”

“You rejected my scholarship because I was inexperienced?” Elizabeth shouted in disbelief. “You would have let me think that I was not good enough because I was inexperienced?” Elizabeth’s anger took on a new, more controlled tone. “I got a call mother. That’s how I know. Are you happy? You have your question answered, but I don’t have mine now do I?”

Ann just sat stunned. She never dreamed that this day would come, nonetheless so soon. She knew in her heart that this would be Elizabeth’s one chance, but how could she let go? Searching for a way to justify holding on to her little baby, each new word was a hammer’s thud against the wall Ann had so carefully built around their world. As the stones came crashing down, Elizabeth continued. “I cannot go to the Conservatory because I’m inexperienced, is that the story? Well, listen mother! I think it’s time that you understand something. I am not inexperienced! I AM BLIND mother. Say it! BLIND!

Elizabeth’s voice lowered and suddenly seemed to be pleading. “Should I just lock the doors and hide under the bed? Would that make the boogy man go away? Listen, it’s you that is afraid of the dark, not me! I don’t care how hard it is. I hope it’s hard. I hate the way you baby me. I am NOT a baby mother. Can’t you see? All my life y ou rushed me to grow up and be mature, now, you want to take that away and treat me like a baby, but it’s too late.” Elizabeth ended her plea and began sobbing, not just because of disappointment, which she as already used to, not just because she was angry, which she was only now acknowledging after years of holding back; rather, it was a lifetime of tears held deeply inside in order to protect her mother. The sound of Elizabeth’s weeping was more than an expression of her pain, it was also a fledgling bird’s cry as it soared for the first time. She was free.

Ann also cried but her tears were tears of mourning. How to let go? How! “That damn school! How dare they steal my baby!” Ann’s thoughts merged with her tears, “How could they expect her to go all the way across country to study music? She doesn’t belong in Los Angeles, she belongs here. With me. Damn them!” But such thoughts remained lodged in her throat. This was the time for Elizabeth. So Ann rose slowly, took Elizabeth in her arms, and stroked her hair as her baby’s, no the young lady’s, tears began to abate. “I am so sorry, sweetie, I am so sorry. Of course you are good enough, you are much better than good enough. Baby, you will be wonderful. Go. Make me proud. I love you.” With that they held each other for what seemed like an eternity.

As the seasons changed one thing did not, the two shared a rite of passage. Passage into another day, into a higher place than that from where they came. Of course, over such distance the ritual changed; however, there was comfort in there being a ritual at all. Cards and letters were written and read daily as they kept to their resolve to never lose each other. Ann would enter her lonely, silent apartment, open the tin containing her dinner, grab a fork and sit on the bench to read her baby’s leter. Elizabeth’s joy exuded from each description of lessons learned, concertos mastered, friends made, and – much to Ann’s chagrin – crushes had. Only the hoy in being a part of Elizabeth’s life allowed Ann the ability to eat at all. Her life became one of contemplation, introspection and a new found appreciation for the beautiful woman her daughter had become. One day she opened the box to find more than the usual letter. Within the folded pages was round trip ticket to Los Angeles and an announcement about the Conservatory’s Exhibition of Student Talent. Written on the back of the announcement was a simple note written in the familiar style Elizabeth so painstakenly learned.

Mom, I saved the money you sent since I got here so that when my most special day came, my most special friend would be here to share it with me. That day is here. I love you Mom and am counting the minutes until I get to say that to you in person. Smootchies to you – Beth.
Ann’s tears flooded the paper with her joy.

Ann walked into the Conservatory dorm on the arm of her much matured daughter. The adultness to her daughter’s posture and appearance contrasted with the childishness in her giggles and excite. They were together again. Life was good.

That evening Ann sat in the first row of the auditorium anxiously awaited her angel. Speakers spoke, yet she did not hear them. Her focus was on only one person, her baby. Then the magical moment occurred. After a brief introduction Elizabeth entered onto the stage. The long black gown betrayed her scant 16 years. Elizabeth glided to the bench. After a short curtsy she sat at the keys, and from Ann’s position she could see that Elizabeth was prepared to enter her world. She played and although a single pianist was performing a symphony seemed to fill the auditorium. Ann was stunned. Although her faith in her daughter was boundless, never did she imagine to live to hear such beautiful music. After she finished and the thunderous applause died down Ann heard a voice from behind her. “That girl is going to be somebody someday. Now that is talent.” Ann turned to the voice behind her and said simply, “She’s already somebody now.” Then, with tears in her eyes she headed backstage to await her jewel.

After mother and daughter had finished embracing they went to the dressing room shared by all the day’s performers. Once they had found a quiet corner Ann quietly told Elizabeth of what she had found since Elizabeth had left. “Darling, I am so proud of you, and not just because of how beautifully you play, but because you play at all. I know that I have been hard on you. I suppose I could say it was because I loved you so much. But that is only half the truth.” Ann paused and took her daughter’s hand. The warmth of that touch gave her the strength to continue. “I have kept you to myself because I needed you. Not because you needed me. I know how selfish I was – and maybe still am. You’re my world, but, that’s not enough of a reason and I am so sorry.”

“Mom, it’s alright, really. We need each other. Maybe not for the reasons you thought, but we do.” Elizabeth said while patting her mother’s hand and smiling. “A day doesn’t go by that I don’t wonder, what would Mom think of that, or I can’t wait to tell Mom this. That’s need, just . . . well . . . It’s not needy need; it’s just need. so don’t fee so bad Mom, because I need you too.”

Ann felt mixed emotions at that moment. Part of her was a child who had just learned something new. Part of her was the mother of the most remarkable young woman she had ever known. “For every one thing that I’ve ever done wrong,” said Ann, “I must have done ten things right, huh? For me to miss seeing how much strength I get from you, well . . . say it baby, you are BLIND mother.” She took her daughter into her arms laughing until tears covered both their faces. This time, however, they were tears of joy. But for Ann the sound of their laughter mixed with their cries was also the sound of a fledgling bird being pushed from it’s nest as it takes to the sky. She too was free.

  

Uncle Jack and the Sunday Storm 

 

          It was Sunday and Sunday at the Campbell house meant one thing – Uncle Jake.  Before Nana died she and Uncle Jake would lock themselves in the drawing room with cucumber sandwiches and iced tea.  Now, we were given the task of entertaining the crotchety old mule.  How Nana was able to put up with him I’ll never understand, but after three Sundays with Uncle Jake, Nana went from sweet old lady to saint in all of our eyes.   

 

         The day started off with the usual attempts by Lucy, Janie, Mike and I all stuttering out excuses to leave.  Even Dad tried with the How bout I take the kids to Church sham; however, Mom was not giving out any day passes. 

 

            The gray overcast sky seemed to foretell of Uncle Jakes visit.  At precisely 10 a.m. the doorbell rang – not once, not twice but exactly three times.  Uncle Jake was always a creature of habit.  We all looked at each other hoping not to be drafted to answer the door.  Janie, would you please let Uncle Jake in?  Whew, I escaped again.  Along with answering the door the draftee was now responsible for entertaining Uncle Jake for at least 15 minutes, which, in Uncle Jake time, feels more like an hour.  Uncle Jake would complain about any and everything.  He liked no food, enjoyed no drink, nothing is as good as it once was and he was an expert in his field of finding each and every fault you possessed. 

 

            Mom went into the kitchen to start breakfast as Dad ushered us toward the drawing room to sit with him.  Uncle Jake sat in the wing back chair, took out his pipe and began tapping it against the ashtray Mom laid out that morning.  Mom never allowed anyone to smoke in the house; however, Uncle Jake was not just anyone.

 

            So younguns, what kind of grades are you getting?

 

            Lucy would answer first, as usual, since she was the Queen of Aces.  Next Mike – the regular B-Boy, Janie and than I.  Not that I was a bad student, I was just ordinary.  I guess ordinary wasn’t good enough for Uncle Jake as he seemed to receive particular pleasure when pointing out my mediocrity.  After a twenty minute lecture on the importance of an education Mom, like a guardian angel, rescued us with a call to breakfast.

 

            After breakfast we would all quickly volunteer to wash and dry the dishes.  Unfortunately this job required only two people; therefore, two of us would return to the drawing room and him.  This week Mike and I had to walk that last mile.  When we opened the door we noticed that all of Dads papers had flown off of the credenza onto the floor.  Mike ran over to the window to close it while I headed for the speech.  For the last week all Dad ever did was work on his speech – the one he had to give to the men coming to hear all about how Dad could bring the business out of its slump with just the smallest investment.  These men, these investors, would make or break not only Dad, but the hundreds of men working at the plant.  Dad was a man possessed.  As soon as I had picked all of the pages up, satisfying myself that nothing lay under the sofa nor the chairs, I put the speech on the table with a small statue atop it to keep it from again flying.  As I sat down I realized my error, what was I thinking, Uncle Jake was in the room.  He had the statue off and pages in hand before I even had the chance to turn around.  I looked from Dads speech, to Uncle Jakes cold, gray eyes, to Mikes panic stricken expression and felt a thump, the thump of my heart dropping from my chest and landing somewhere near my left knee.  It was all over.

 

            Mike fumbled while I bumbled but nothing was going to stop that crazy old man from reading that speech.  He sat with a look on his face that feel somewhere between amusement and contempt.  He was going to let Dad have it.  I had to feel sorry for Dad since I knew that Uncle Jakes words cut like a knife and this was Dads bread and butter in Jake the Blades hands.  I crept away from the drawing room slowly although I wasnt sure what my plan was.  Maybe I can run into Mom and explain, she can send Dad to the store or something.  Maybe I can distract Dad, no, I realized that a game of catch or a story about homework would be far too lame to keep Dad from his destiny. 

 

            As I approached the kitchen I heard my Mother and Father talking about the storm outside.  Now honey, we cant send Uncle Jake out into that weather, why he’s nearly eighty years old, he’s likely to blow away, said my Mother and Dad, he said nothing at all.  I knew what he was thinking, what we would all have been thinking, Nooooooooooo.

 

            It came to me than, at that moment, I knew what to do.  Uncle Jake would have to catch a cab to get back to the home, and if there was a storm maybe I could convince him, yes I believed at that moment I might be able to save Dad after all.

 

            I ran into the drawing room gasping for breath and flailing my arms about in the most exaggerated way possible.  Uncle Jake, Uncle Jake, you gotta call a cab fast.  This storms settling in and could last for days, there wont be any cabs on the street soon at all.  Quick, Mike, give me the phone.  Jake, this creature of habit, would not, could not dream of spending a night away from his own bed, with his cracked tea cup and soda crackers in bed.  No, Uncle Jake did not even want to wait for the cab and headed straight for the porch.  Just than; however, it looked as if the whole plan was about to crash in as Dad appeared out of nowhere.  He looked at my sweaty brow, Mikes shocked expression and the pages of his speech dropped casually next to the wing chair with just a single ash upon its pages.  Dad looked at Uncle Jake with a furled brow and spoke, Jake, dont forget your hat. 

 

         The day started off with the usual attempts by Lucy, Janie, Mike and I all stuttering out excuses to leave.  Even Dad tried with the How bout I take the kids to Church sham; however, Mom was not giving out any day passes. 

 

            The gray overcast sky seemed to foretell of Uncle Jakes visit.  At precisely 10 a.m. the doorbell rang – not once, not twice but exactly three times.  Uncle Jake was always a creature of habit.  We all looked at each other hoping not to be drafted to answer the door.  Janie, would you please let Uncle Jake in?  Whew, I escaped again.  Along with answering the door the draftee was now responsible for entertaining Uncle Jake for at least 15 minutes, which, in Uncle Jake time, feels more like an hour.  Uncle Jake would complain about any and everything.  He liked no food, enjoyed no drink, nothing is as good as it once was and he was an expert in his field of finding each and every fault you possessed. 

 

            Mom went into the kitchen to start breakfast as Dad ushered us toward the drawing room to sit with him.  Uncle Jake sat in the wing back chair, took out his pipe and began tapping it against the ashtray Mom laid out that morning.  Mom never allowed anyone to smoke in the house; however, Uncle Jake was not just anyone.

 

            So younguns, what kind of grades are you getting?

 

            Lucy would answer first, as usual, since she was the Queen of Aces.  Next Mike – the regular B-Boy, Janie and than I.  Not that I was a bad student, I was just ordinary.  I guess ordinary wasn’t good enough for Uncle Jake as he seemed to receive particular pleasure when pointing out my mediocrity.  After a twenty minute lecture on the importance of an education Mom, like a guardian angel, rescued us with a call to breakfast. 

 

            After breakfast we would all quickly volunteer to wash and dry the dishes.  Unfortunately this job required only two people; therefore, two of us would return to the drawing room and him.  This week Mike and I had to walk that last mile.  When we opened the door we noticed that all of Dads papers had flown off of the credenza onto the floor.  Mike ran over to the window to close it while I headed for the speech.  For the last week all Dad ever did was work on his speech – the one he had to give to the men coming to hear all about how Dad could bring the business out of its slump with just the smallest investment.  These men, these investors, would make or break not only Dad, but the hundreds of men working at the plant.  Dad was a man possessed.  As soon as I had picked all of the pages up, satisfying myself that nothing lay under the sofa nor the chairs, I put the speech on the table with a small statue atop it to keep it from again flying.  As I sat down I realized my error, what was I thinking, Uncle Jake was in the room.  He had the statue off and pages in hand before I even had the chance to turn around.  I looked from Dads speech, to Uncle Jakes cold, gray eyes, to Mikes panic stricken expression and felt a thump, the thump of my heart dropping from my chest and landing somewhere near my left knee.  It was all over.

 

            Mike fumbled while I bumbled but nothing was going to stop that crazy old man from reading that speech.  He sat with a look on his face that feel somewhere between amusement and contempt.  He was going to let Dad have it.  I had to feel sorry for Dad since I knew that Uncle Jakes words cut like a knife and this was Dads bread and butter in Jake the Blades hands.  I crept away from the drawing room slowly although I wasn’t sure what my plan was.  Maybe I can run into Mom and explain, she can send Dad to the store or something.  Maybe I can distract Dad, no, I realized that a game of catch or a story about homework would be far too lame to keep Dad from his destiny. 

 

            As I approached the kitchen I heard my Mother and Father talking about the storm outside.  Now honey, we cant send Uncle Jake out into that weather, why he’s nearly eighty years old, hes likely to blow away, said my Mother and Dad, he said nothing at all.  I knew what he was thinking, what we would all have been thinking, Nooooooooooo.

 

            It came to me than, at that moment, I knew what to do.  Uncle Jake would have to catch a cab to get back to the home, and if there was a storm maybe I could convince him, yes I believed at that moment I might be able to save Dad after all.

 

            I ran into the drawing room gasping for breath and flailing my arms about in the most exaggerated way possible.  Uncle Jake, Uncle Jake, you gotta call a cab fast.  This storms settling in and could last for days, there wont be any cabs on the street soon at all.  Quick, Mike, give me the phone.  Jake, this creature of habit, would not, could not dream of spending a night away from his own bed, with his cracked tea cup and soda crackers in bed.  No, Uncle Jake did not even want to wait for the cab and headed straight for the porch.  Just than; however, it looked as if the whole plan was about to crash in as Dad appeared out of nowhere.  He looked at my sweaty brow, Mikes shocked expression and the pages of his speech dropped casually next to the wing chair with just a single ash upon its pages.  Dad looked at Uncle Jake with a furled brow and spoke, Jake, don’t forget your hat. 

———————

Maria, just one day away from starting the life of her dreams, away from the monster she married, must face her biggest challenge.

Yellow Ribbon is a tale told in the “stream of consciousness” genre made famous by James Joyce in Ulysses.  This genre allows the reader to go into the mind of the character at their most unguarded. 

———————-

 Yellow Ribbon

 What the . . . damn . . . where am I . . . shit my head, dammit what the hell’s going on?  This is sooooo not a hangover . . . not dreamin . . . then what the hell am I doing here!  Okay, c’mon now just hold it together and THINK!  I can’t, DAMN it hurts! Wait . . . where . .  .JULES!  JULIAAAAA!  Shit yeah okay Maria she’s hiding, sure she is, right behind what the friggin cactus, wake up asshole . . . that bitch ditched me that damn, stupid, bitch!  Okay now what the hell happened, what, c’mon think, think . . no I can’t think oh my head dammit what’s wrong with me?  I know this wasn’t my idea, God sand, I so friggin hate sand, shit it’s in everything.  Jimmy! Oh shit Jimmy!  I gotta get outta here, finally time to say bye asshole you you muther f . . . shit I gotta get outta here by 2, okay what the hell time is it damn this is not good what’m I gonna do, yeah stay calm stay calm breeeeaaaathe . .  hhhhhhhmmmmm okay first day of the rest of my life right?  Right!  Yeah first day of forever so that gives me plenty of time to kill you you back stabbing bitch how could you just leave me.  DAMMIT WHERE ARE YOU!  Oh God, my head, I’d kill for an aspirin . . . nooooooo . . for th ewater, sit where the hell am I gonna get water.   All night drinking just to die of thirst oh God what as that again yeah people can live like weeks without food but how the hell long without water.  Two days.  Two days?  Shit how the hell long have I been sleeping maybe two days . . . Oh God what the hell haapennnnnned.  Okay dressed that’s good, yeah okay not raped just dirty, friggin dirty dammit how the hell . . . shit this isn’t mud it’s . .  .where the hell is it coming from, oh noooo not my face!  What happened to my face! Oh thank God it feels okay, it don’t hurt, okay, I’m fine, but dammit my head.  What the hell could I’a hit it on, shit! sand, noooo wake the hell up, well ok it’s dry so I ain’t gonna bleed to death nooooo ’cause I’m gonna friggin die of thirst.  Nah ain’t gonna die like that nope not me . . . nope cause lil miss hates the beach is gonna burn to death . . . dammit friggin Nevada, yeah nice damn place, yeah great friggin place full of nuttin but hot.  Well standing here ain’t gonna do a damn thing okay, a car, yeah air condition, civilization, I can see that instead of this God forsaken hellhole . . . not a bad place to bury a body, isolated, yeah I bet Jimmy and his friends know all about this place.  Okay where’s Marlboro butts? size 11 shoe prints? that asshole and his big ass feet.  Some night out, damn, I hope I didn’t make an ass outta myself, nah not me what the hell am I talking about, stumblin round the desert and don’t remember shit, of course I made an ass outta myelf.  Great idea Jules, what’d you say “let’s go out and celebrate, viva la independence” yeah that’s the ticket.  Well I’m pretty damn independent now ain’t I?  Let me see, hmmmm, the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, or not it rises in the west and sets in the east, no . . . what the hell was I thinkin bout, you neva friggin listed do you you damn moron no never friggin learn, well your gonna learn now for all the good it’ll do.  Gotta stop talkin to myself . . . it’s the heat . . . okay well if I keep walking Ill get a ride back to town.  Yeah shouldn’t be too hard just cause I’m in the middle of the desert and covered in blood, why should that stop me from getting home.  Nah, I’ll just follow the yellow sand road and see where it takes me, maybe Ill end up in Munchkin Land.  Yeah that’s it, just click your heals and say there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.  Hey, home home on the range where the deer and the antelope play.  C’MON EVERYBODY SING! That’s it, that proves it, I’m cracking up.  Listen, shhhhhh even the birds are laughing dammit! those aren’t birds . . . vultures.  They know something don’t they? don’t they? They always know something SHUT UP!  SHUT THE FUCK UP AND STOP FOLLOWING ME DAMMIT! DAMMIT!  You high pitched squealing pieces of shit, I’m not dead yet, you ain’t gonna get me cause I’m not dead yet dammit.  It takes more than a day at the beach to kill me cause hey I’m a survivor, I survived you didn’t I you egomaniacal, schizophrenic, ssss . . . sssss.. . sociopath, that’s it, yeah you couldn’t friggin break me could’ya so a little walk across the sand ain’t gonna do it neither, yeah that’s right you’re strong YOU ARE STRONG!  GET OUTTA HERE DAMMIT!  We’ll see who gets the last laugh won’t we, oh yeah it’s a black day for vultures in the world.  Oh God I’m losin it cause this sure as hell aint funny no just tired, my feet hurt, my head oh why, I just wanna go home . . . even to that home . . . no, no what the hell am I saying no damn way!  Im must tired okay and if I rest then I can think, yeah I just gotta think . . . If I just sit down for a couple of minutes yeah hey maybe Ill just jog home . . . Las Vegas, here I come yeah here I come . . .

            Damn, damn damn damn damn damn what the hell is wrong with me I can’t believe damn, okay, well, all right, at least I’m not tired but I gotta get back.  Shit how long have I been out, the suns over there now, not that I know where there is dammit Mom you were wrong, you need more than looks in life you need survival training.  You didn’t tell me that now did you.  I coulda used it for all those wonderful years of bliss huh Mother.  “Marry him honey, he’ll take good care of you hone.”  Oh he took good care of me didn’t he, yeah me and everyone else.  Do you see your little girl now, huh, are you looking down here . . . no . . . what am I thinking . . . are you looking up at me  you selfish bitch.  Small price to pay huh one daughter for a condo and some pieces of gold, but you ain’t using them now are you Mother!  Watch I’m gonna get the hell outta here and wanna know what I’m gonna take that pig for every friggin dime . . . yeat it’s gonna be hard but like you said, “Adversity makes us strong.  You can’t come running home when the going gets tough, you gotta stick it out.”  Guess that’s why you just ignored the bruises good reason to call Jimmy to come and get me but hey he ain’t gonna be getting me now is he no HE won’t be getting me but damn if I don’t get my shit together I won’t be getting him either will I?  All right it’s gonna be a long walk but those classes might finally pay off right Jules, how the hell did you talk me into those, Oooooohh yeah, “start on Wednesday and when I get good I cold go with you on Fridays.”  Wasn’t that what you said?  I was so pissed when I finally made it to the Friday class and youre ass was not even there.  Yeah, that asshole thought it was hilarious . . . the two of you laughing, “Oh Maria, I never thought you’d stick it out.”  Right, good reason for dropping out of Fridays, but hey they got me outta that friggin prison.  I was so damn happy he finally let me outta the house . . . yeah for that damn class but just being away . . . of course cause he worked late . . . yeah as long as it didn’t inconvenience Jimmy boy than all’s good . . . yeah it’s gonna pay off now ain’t it cause I don’t even feel winded, nooooo not me.  You really pushed it didnt you, and me like some kinda stupid bitch thinking Jimmy would appreciate me more if I looked more fit or maybe just more like you . . . God do you know how much I hated you, you and the little private jokes.  I know I’m no genius but the two of  you had a way of making me feel like an ass . . . yeah soo condescending and just so you know if it wasn’t for him being he bastard that he was you would’ve been gone, but still you were there for me the last couple of months weren’t you?  After all who else could I have turned to with my little secret and you were great never passing judgment, not even trying to talk me out of it . . . you surprised me didn’t you.  You were great, just great, except last night.  Where the hell did you go . . . you said you were going to the bathroom yeah I remember and I started getting dizzy . . . stupid stupid I shoulda’ known not to but yeah, it was hot, I had to get air, it was so hot in there . . . hot . . . it’s so hot.  Damn I’m so thirst, shit, I can’t be sweating like this dammit shit Im gonna die . . . DO YOU HEAR ME IM GONNA DIE YOU FUCKING LAUGHIN BIRDS, YOUR GONNA EAT TONIGHT!  No no that’s stupid I’m just trying to hard to find a ride hey, I know, when you stop looking for something it usually pops up so let me stop trying so hard, yeah Ill just sit here for a little while.  Of course, of cooouuurse it’s gonna work out cause I’m a survivor.  Ill just rest my eyes for a second or two and catch my breath.

            Oh my God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God.  I cant see its so damn dark what the hell . . . shit, its so cold.  Okay Im dreaming, yet thats it, I was dreaming cause the desert is hot and Im not like that damn Twilight Zone where the girl paints I remember dammit but than she was gonna freeze to death what kinda joke is this . . . Who the fuck is doing this to me!  What the hell am I gonna do . . . oh yeah jog Im gonna jog to Nevada . . . yeah maybe itll be easier to walk now.  Shit shit oh no oh God nooooo I cant get up, I cant I cant.  Im numb oh God am I dead no no okay I can still move so Im not but nobody is gonna see me here in the dark.  What the fuck am I so tired, I slept all damn day I gotta wake up why the hell is this happening now what was it, I don’t go to sleep when you bump your head, but I don’t dammit you idiot, you stupid fucking moron how could you be so stupid!  That’s the rule, don’t go to sleep when you bump your head.  But I’m so tired and I slept already, I’m still alive cause I can feel . . . I can feel . . . that’s my heart it’s still beating and all I gotta do is keep myself up, I really gotta keep myself up.  C’mon think, okay what the hell happened?  What the hell happened?  What, I was at the bar, dizzy, yeah that’s right.  I went outside, Jules, you were there.  I remember, Oh God I remember, “What the hell are you doing?  where are you going, wait for me.”  No, but you weren’t alone though somebody was in the care, getting out, standing there in the headlights, but I know.  After 10 years I know, I see you and I know who you are.  “What the hell are you doing here?  You monster.  Jules, DO SOMETHING!  No, put it down, PLEASE, JULES, DO SOMETHING.”  Wednesday classes are for beginners huh Jules that’s why you, but nooooo I was right, I was the outsider all along.  I gotta stay up, I gotta go home.  Fuckin bitch WHY WHY WHYYYYYYY no cause it don matta any more, just you wait, wait ’til I get there.  I’m gonna crucify you, both of you.  You didn’t kill me, I feel my heart, its strong, like me strong and I’m comin home.  I can stay up and wait I can do it til morning and then you’ll die, oh you’ll die all right, Yeah okay, C’mon Mom let’s sing together, please, you came a long way just to sit by me.  Okay Mommy so we’ll sing and keep awake until morning okay.  I missed you . . . I’m sorry bout all the things I said but you came . . . you didn’t leave me all alone this time you came.  Okay we’ll sing until a car comes and then we’ll get both of them.  No all three of them.  That’s right up there I mean you, SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU STUPID BIRD! SHUT UP! Shut up! shut up.  Kay how’d that song go, oh yeahhh, I’m comin home I served my time and I got to know what is and isn’t right.  ifffffff you receive my letta tellin you I’ll soon be free you would know jus what to do if you still love me, if you still love me so tie a yellow ribbon round the oooo