Dream: The visit

It's strange how you become accustomed to city streets.  People used to warn me constantly that it wasn't safe to walk at night.  Never really bothered me. Except for a few people here and there walking just a little too close or staring a little too long.  As long as I payed attention, I would be okay.

I walked along Essex with my hands in my jacket pockets as the warmth kept within my layers offered a welcome comfort.  Streetlights made the damp concrete glisten at this time of night.  Few people were out so I had the street to myself.

In another 5 minutes i would make it to his house.  Just as i was about to cross the street, a FedEx truck slammed on his breaks and fishtailed into a building on the corner.  The tiles that lined the outside of the building indented slightly, but it seemed that no other damage was done.  Cursing, the driver jumped out of his cab and looked for the car that caused him to break so quickly.  Throwing his cigarette to the ground, he stomped back and forth, unable to find the fiend.

I shook my head and crossed anyway.  I would have called the cops except the driver made it back to his cab and was on the radio in no time.  I continued down for two more blocks.

Either the music from my earbuds was really engaging or I was on autopilot because I can't remember getting to his apartment.  Before I knew it, I was inside. I didn't feel uncomfortable or intrusive.  It was as if someone invited me in, just not the owner.  I could hear rustling from another room - I think it was the cleaner.

I was so surprised to see how simple his setup was.  Compared to my own apartment, his Ikea furniture and lack of very expensive items made me feel silly for being embarrassed when we first met.  

If i remember correctly, I placed an ad on Craigslist selling some of my old vinyls given to me by my Grandmother.  I was hard up for money and needed to pay the rent.  I received an email shortly after  with an urgent ask to purchase those albums.  I arranged a pickup at my apartment for that weekend.  To my surprise, the guy that showed up to purchase the records was Robert Downey Jr. himself.  

Mr. Downey Jr. wasn't with anyone, and was really polite.  I froze for a moment with embarrassment because I hadn't cleaned the place and it was in quite a state of disarray.  I apologized to him for the mess and invited him inside to look through the records.

That afternoon was magical. We listened to records, talked about life and what was going on in our lives. His visit went long into the evening and he even offered to get Chinese.  When his visit was over, he insisted on overpaying for the records and asked if he could call on me again to have another afternoon.  I assured him that was fine by me.

Now I was let into his own home.  There was art on the wall, a flat screen TV and a few couches.  Nothing that would suggest he had a famous life style.  I was checking other things around the living room when I heard keys in the door. Mr. Downey walked in with a surprised look.  I froze in my tracks.  I couldn't remember why I was here.  Did he invite me over?  Why the hell was I let into his apartment?  Was this even okay to be here?

Cautiously, he moved towards me, almost studying me to see what I would do next.  I felt as if he was trying to gauge my discomfort and was hiding a laugh behind those watchful eyes.  I did my best to play it cool.  I pulled out a drawing pad and started to sketch random shapes.  

He moved to the couch and turned the TV on.  The door opened again and his wife stepped through.  She smiled and welcomed me, then began bringing in groceries.  I asked if i could help but Mr. Downey said not to worry about it.  He invited me to sit down and started up a conversation.  It had been a while since we last spoke after all.

I was mortified.  I felt I didn't belong here and I couldn't remember how I got here or why.  Mr. Downey seemed to pick up on that and moved closer on the couch.  I kept my eyes down on my sketching.  

I was able to make a swooping shape to the left. That gave me an idea for a dress for cosplay so I mirrored the shape and kept drawing.  To my surprise, it turned out incredibly well and that caught the attention of Mr. Downey.  He started to watch.

My nervousness grew, I am not a good artist, but he seemed interested and working with the blue pencil and paper kept me somewhat calm.  I was able to sketch out a highly detailed wedding dress until he moved a bit closer.

I could feel my temperature rise, having this person I admired from afar so close to me and there was nothing I could do about it.  His wife was working in the open kitchen, starting to make dinner.  And then he got closer.  

At this point, he was close enough to whisper into my ear. My pencil stopped drawing for a moment as it took everything within me to not try to melt.  He asked if I was going to his High School Reunion.  I blinked, not comprehending what he just asked and asked him to repeat his question.  He laughed a bit, probably noticing the breathless quality in my voice, put his arm around me and asked again.  When i realized what he said, i started to laugh. 

I asked him where it was.  He replied it was set in Ontario and he expected that I'd want to go.  He would really like it if I went.  Then he'd have someone to talk with. I felt honored and surprised at the thought of it and was quickly reminded of my financial situation.  I let him know I'd think about it.

The Christmas Diner

Stepping off the bus she thanked the driver.  "Merry Christmas, Frank… thanks for working today."

"No problem, Cathy.  You'll be okay out there?"

"Yeah, i'll be okay."

The doors closed and she walked toward the building.  The stores on that block had long since closed but light fell on the sidewalk from one set of windows.  A neon sign flickered 'Open' and she stepped through the door.

Inside was fuller than she imagined.  Booths were all filled on one side and tables had many empty chairs.  She opted for the counter since it wasn't so bad sitting alone at a table for one.  As she sat down, she realized everyone was sitting alone.  So was the tradition at the Christmas Diner.

People came from uptown, downtown, east and west of the city to this one place.  It was the only diner open 24 hours even on holidays.  While everyone had dinner with the families, they stayed open with a seat for those that could not share with their loved ones.

She swiveled around and took a menu from the stand.  It wasn't Thanksgiving but a turkey dinner sounded really good right about now.  A waitress stopped over and took a pencil from her hair.  She had on thick black rimmed glasses, bright red lipstick and heavy eyeliner.  Her smile was genuine.

"What can I get for you, hun?"

"I'll have the turkey deluxe, please and some ginger ale" Cathy quietly requested.

"You got it… hey, you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine.  Hey, i have a question… Why is everyone asking that?"

The waitress put the pencil back in her hair, looked out the window and smiled.  A bell hanging over the door rang as a new customer entered.  "Maybe he'll explain."

Cathy looked over with her eyes but kept her head forward.  Through peripheral vision she could make out a tall figure with a hat and winter jacket on.  He made his way to the counter and sat a seat away from her.  He took off the hat, placed it on the unoccupied side of the counter and asked for some hot, black coffee.  It was his voice that Cathy noticed first.

Sadness rose from the depths of a baritone throat.  He knew what he wanted but didn't demand, only requested.  He offered respect with authority and wouldn't take advantage with the powers he was given.  He turned toward Cathy and raised his newly delivered coffee cup.  

"Merry Christmas, miss."

"M-Merry Christmas" Cathy hesitated.  She was staring and hadn't realized her head had turned toward him completely. So drawn in was she to his voice.  With a smile she folder her hands and turned her attention to her suddenly unacceptable cuticles.

The waitress brought Cathy a place setting of a cloth napkin, knife fork and spoon. Her ginger ale came next and then her plate of food.  The meal smelled delicious and she was starving, but curiosity turned her head toward her new neighbor.

"What do you think you'll have for dinner tonight?"

"Not sure yet.  Just worried about keeping warm for now.  Looks like you have a meal ready for a King, or a Queen perhaps?" He laughed and her heart ached.  She knew that laugh.  It was a way of protection to keep others out where they don't belong.  If someone was laughing you couldn't tell they were hurting, right?

She sighed in sympathy without realizing it.  He looked up from his coffee to catch her gaze but she already turned her eyes back toward the plate. This time he sighed and put in his order.

"I'll have the turkey pot pie."

Cathy smiled and started in on her mashed potatoes.  

"I know i shouldn't talk with my mouth full, but i have to ask.  What brings you out here on Christmas day?  We all have our reasons and i see no one else here with a guest.  Y-you don't have to answer if i'm being too intrusive but i guess i'm just not feeling introverted today…" She shoved a spoonful of stuffing into her mouth before she could ramble off anything else.

"Well… it is my tradition to come here on Christmas" he replied as he was served his pot pie.  "Donna here gets me a coffee, a turkey pot pie and apple strudel every year.  I've been doing this for ten years.  What about you?"

Cathy stopped mid chew. She was't ready for his question - she was the one collecting info on this new intriguing guy. "Me…?  Well i needed some space from my apartment.  It's kind of a sad story, you probably don't want me to bring you down on such a festive holiday."

"But you came here for company, didn't you?" He looked up again from his meal.  This time he caught her eyes.  He had dark brown irises that spoke of the same sadness in his voice.

"Y-yes, I guess you're right," she put her fork down.  She didn't mean to sound so dramatic but always felt the need to explain herself.  Why couldn't she just give short answers once and a while.  

Cathy opened her mouth to begin her story when the entrance bell rang again.  An old lady with ragged clothes walked through the door.  She held a cup in her hand and rattled the few coins that were inside.  

"Can anyone spare some change, please, i'm so very hungry…" she weaved to and from all the tables.  Donna served a couple in the far corner then headed towards the old lady.  She took her gingerly by the arm and led her to a booth by the window.  She set down a cloth napkin and some silverware and handed the old woman a menu.

"Take your time, mam.  I'll be back with some water"

"I can't pay for this, child…" the woman wearily cautioned.

Donna smiled and with a wink was away to fetch some water.

Cathy closed her mouth, unable to describe the pitiful sadness she was feeling.  Shame and righteousness washed over her alternatively.  How could she be upset this season when she still had a place to live, food to eat and money to buy things. The old woman had very little and was working hard to get what she needed to live on.

"Excuse me, Donna, was it," Cathy raised her arm to get the waitress's attention.  "I'll cover the charge for that woman over there."

"Thanks, hun, but Clarice is covered here."

"Okay…" was all Cathy could say and went back to the turkey.

"So are you going to tell me the story, or what?" 

Cathy couldn't lift her eyes past his half eaten pot pie.  

He leaned in to whisper "Look, don't feel bad for Clarice.  She has many things going on in her life that may seem unfortunate for us outsiders but she has a lot going for her too.  Her mind and health are still with her, at least for now.  We all have our burdens, it's okay, if you're not ready I can wait."   Then a little more loudly he said "This pie sure is good!"

She laughed at that along with a few others in the diner.  Taking a sweeping glance, she realized that while they were all sitting alone, no one looked unhappy.  They weren't dancing in their seats but they looked content.  She wondered why.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound…"

He cut her off. "Don't apologize.  Just speak freely, you may be judged but be yourself at least."

Cathy's shoulders stiffened at that remark.  Judgement.  That was the last thing she needed right now.  

"More ginger ale, hun?" Donna making her rounds.

"Yes, please."

Cathy turned toward her neighbor and realized she never caught his name.  

"Well before i tell you, at least let me know your name? I'm Cathy" and she outstretched her hand.

"My name is Paul.  Pleasure to meet you." 

He shook her hand with a warm, firm grip and let her own hand slip out of his.   Cathy's shoulders relaxed and she was surprised by how good she felt at his touch.  She tried to think back when she'd had actual human contact.

"I'm sorr…." she stopped herself and took a breath.  This was going to be a challenge.

"It's not easy to know where to start.  So I guess i'll start with today.  This Christmas has bothered me like no others.  This is the first Christmas in 17 years where i have not had a significant other.  It's not the first time i've spent the holidays on my own - in fact i've taken pleasure being away from family on some occasions just to not have to deal with the stress.  But this time, it's not voluntary.  

"Think of having no one to share your morning or evening with.  To talk about the day's news or books or movies.  I'm an introvert by nature but my God i need someone to talk to." 

Cathy's hands started to tense up around the silverware.  Paul listened and watched her knuckles slowly turn to white.  He took a sip of coffee and set it down a little closer to Cathy.

"I have friends and hanging out with them is always a special time but it's just not the same.  There is no contact.  No brushing hair out of my face, or caressing my arms or holding me while watching a movie.  None of that… for a really long time. I need…" 

Cathy broke off when she felt her cheeks burning.  They glistened with newly dropped tears without her blinking.  She looked down, ashamed of crying but couldn't bring herself to wipe away the tears.  That would admit she had fallen weak.

Paul slowly reached over and placed his hands atop hers. He wedged the fork and knife from her chilly fingers and moved one seat closer.  Her tears fell freely while she continued on.

"It's so damn lonely…" she cried out and her shoulders slumped.  Paul caught her in his arms and let her cry.  The sobs wracked her body and she didn't hold back.  Cathy didn't care about being judged. She was the strong one for so long - how was she expected to be strong forever.  If this made her weak so be it.  She was finished with being everyone else's rock.  This perfect stranger was willing to lend his strength for a moment and she took it.

"Just know that right now," he spoke as gently as he could "you are not alone."

"Thank you," Cathy choked out as best she could.

After some time, she pulled away and excused herself to go to the bathroom.  She could hear Paul ordering his apple strudel just before the bathroom door closed.  The mirror reflected her puffy eyes, runny nose and a nose that would have shamed Rudolph.  She cleaned herself up as best she could and thought about what just happened at the counter.  how could she have been so trusting.  She had no idea who this person was and yet she trusted him with her deepest secret.  Maybe she could explain to him some more and help make him understand.  

Cathy stalled in the bathroom, unsure what to do next.  She let her guard down which was a mistake.  How could she go out there and face him again? Maybe she could stay in the bathroom until he left.  

"Cathy, stop being so foolish.  Just go out there.  He was willing to listen, now be an ear for him" she took another deep breath, one to slow her pounding heart, and headed back to the counter.

She saw a plate of finished apple strudel and some cash for a tip but Paul was gone.  Her heart sank. 

"Not even a good-bye?" she felt new tears brimming.

"Donna, did you see where Paul went?"

"Sorry, hun, who?"

"The gentleman who was here, with the hat just a moment ago?  He had the strudel?"

"We have pie here, hun but no strudel.  Are you feeling okay?  Want me to call you a cab or something?"

"No, i'll be all right. Thanks for dinner. Merry Christmas."  

Cathy nodded to Clarice on her way out and headed for the bus stop.  Half a block down she wondered if she left enough of a tip and turned to go back.  When she found the door, the Open neon sign was off and chipped in several places.  There were NYC Department of Health stickers all over the door and windows claiming the site closed for unsanitary conditions.  The dust on the windows and floor showed it had been closed for days if not weeks.

"What the hell…?" Cathy felt full and could still taste cranberries.  She also remembered having arms wrapped around her while she cried.  Shaking her head she walked to the bus stop.  A few minutes later she could see Frank pulling up to the curb.  

"Hey - caught you on the return trip too!  Did you find what you were looking for?"

Cathy thought for a moment and then smiled.  "Yes, Frank, i think i did.  Time to go home."

Something nice for Sam

The sun was shining onto the golden yellow leaves still waving gently on their branches.  Sam smiled and tilted her face up to catch the warm rays.  She just left the tax office, her federal and state returns in hand.  The preparer mentioned a post office down the street and she made her way over to the granite faced building.

Today was equivalent to accomplishment.  When Sam could check things off a list her morale boosted. She wanted to ride that wave all day and decided to do a little something nice for herself.  On the way to the post office, she saw a salon with an open door.  One of the hair dressers was laughing as the other danced in her booth area.  They looked happy and Sam stepped in.

Her dressers name was Georgia and she was older than the others.  She smiled genuinely and asked to take Sam's coat.  Sam was seated while Georgia looked over her hair.  She loved long hair and wouldn't dream of cutting Sam's locks short.  There would be some good grooming done with two inches off the bottom and a layered look.  Sam agreed and she was sent off to the washer.

A younger dark skinned woman took her back and asked her to be seated.  Her own hair was brown at the roots and got steadily lighter up into her curls.  It was twisted and springy and a good look for her.  Sam leaned back and let the magic of a hair washing relax her after a long week.  The younger lady washed, rinsed then conditioned and dried with a towel.  She offered Sam some tea and walked her back over to Georgia.

Georgia was a good hair dresser.  She could cut and measure and style while still keeping up with small talk.  She didn't pause when she told her stories and would make constant eye contact through the mirror to ensure i was doing well.  The chat was not too deep but engaging and Sam enjoyed laughing at her jokes and shared some of her her own experiences.  

When it was all done, Sam counted this as another accomplishment.  She hadn't had her hair cut in over a year.  She headed back home, perhaps to take a nap as she was up earlier that morning.  Of course, when she got home, she got her second wind, found some new clothes and headed right back out for the first time in a while.  She never went out on Saturday nights.

to be continued….

freewrite - who's the right one?

"He wasn't good enough." Todd said.  "You could do much better…"

She replied with a scoff and "Yeah? Like who?"

Todd grinned and winked.  Scumbag.

Nancy didn't have much luck with finding a partner.  The first needed someone his own age. The second needed a mommy replacement.  The third was passionate but required constant emotional care. The fourth wanted short freedom before he went off to fulfill his family duty.  The fifth seemed like the right one, at least for now.

But Nancy had a problem.  It was't until she had already invested time that she realized things weren't meant to work out.  Maybe it was due to her wanting things to work.   She would try with all her might until she had nothing left to give.  The weariness overtook her and she had to leave the situation or become completely crushed.

She was going to therapy for that.  A nice round lady with curly blond/brown hair listened to Nancy every week.  Steph was a good fit and listened empathetically to all of Nancy's stories.  There was never judgement but at times she called Nance out when she wasn't being honest with her or herself.

So Nancy heard Todd's comment and her heart began to sink.  Was she making the same mistake again? How could she tell?  Were the warning signs coming back?  She thought they might be.  Telling people that she was in a long distance relationship, making excuses of why she couldn't meet up for double dates, getting frustrated when promised a phone call and hearing nothing until the next day or two.

She couldn't tell if she was blowing things out of proportion.  Was she expecting too much?  He wasn't working, but looking hard for a job. This was the case in a previous relationship, but this was a little different.  She wasn't 'allowed' to go to his place.  Was she being too trusting?

Nancy smiled and excused herself from the dinner table.  She fought hard to keep laughing at the jokes they made while she walked toward the ladies room.  Behind the first door, then the stall metal she slumped against the wall and let her tears come freely.  It was so confusing, trying to be positive but not naive.  How could she tell what she should be doing?

Now her nose was running her eyes must be really red.  She blew her nose with toilet paper and started breathing deeply to regulate her heart.  Who would have thought these episodes couldn't be held back any more.  Smiling to herself, she jokingly damned her therapist for a good job and left the stall to wash her hands.

The mirror above the sinks showed her eyes were a little red as was her nose and cheeks.  After drying her hands she used the paper towel to wipe her face.  She wouldn't let the guys get to her.  They were just being silly and flirtatious.  If what they said bothered her that much, she had a lot more thinking to do on her current relationship.

anger - freewrite

Her lip trembled as it jutted from her jaw. Red splotches formed at the very tips of her ears, filling in until they burned with a heightened temperature.  Eyes dark but fiery stared at a single brick in the wall across the room.  Huddled in a corner, she stared on for about an hour, unable to shake "the clench."

This was Sam's cooling down ritual.  If ever she became enraged, she'd head to a room behind the boiler without any windows.  Her goal was to focus the energy out of her body.  If the energy could not be dispersed, bad things would happen.  Sam called this "the clench."

It was actually Sam's brother, upon witnessing his sister changed before his eyes, that coined the phrase.  He came home one night, after football practice to find a trail of red dots around the back of the house.  He followed it down the basement stairs and to a back room behind the boiler. Grabbing a flashlight from the wall of tools he went toward the back of the basement.

"Hello?" he gently called out.  A small rustling sound came from behind the door.  He pointed the flashlight on the floor to find more dots on the ground.  Opening the door slowly he saw his sister huddled in the corner her hands dripping with the red stuff.

"oh my god, Sam!" he cried as he rushed forward to check where the crimson liquid was coming from.

"It's not mine, Travis..." she repeated in whispers.

Travis checked anyway.  

"Wrists and arms are okay, legs too. What happened, Sammy?

"He was going to kill her, so i got to him first"

Travis kept on checking.  "Who, Sam?"

"Mr. Glay."

"The security guard at the High School?  Sam, he's a high visibility case.  People will notice he's missing."

"I can't help who's nex.."  the words faded from her lips and the tears burned as they rolled down her cheeks.

Travis took off his jacket and placed it gently over her shoulders.  

"You have 'the clench', Sammy.  Grandma had it too.  There's no telling who will be next, it's not your fault.  C'mere." He pulled her into his arms as she shivered.  "I'll let Dad know.  He'll fix it."

Dad did fix it.  He created an accident at the school that explained by Mr. Glay would not be able to return to duty. He also came up with a type of meditation for Sam when she could feel 'the clench' come on.  

She was doing what she could to focus on that damn brick but it felt as if she could set it on fire with her stare.  The release would have to come another way.  There was the barista who burned her hot chocolate earlier in the morning or the politician on the sidewalk that held up traffic.  

"Annoyances and besides, i can't choose who's next.  They come to me..."

She stood up and reached for a dangling pencil that was attached to a clipboard on the wall.  The pencil seemed to move all on it's own as a name appeared in graphite. She let the pencil slip from her fingers as a smile crossed her face.  She had the next name.

~~~~~~~~~

bah... i need more practice.  i don't have the energy to finish this story. :/  But i know where it leads...

freewrite

"gotta get back to writing again..." she whispered to herself.

She closed her eyes, waiting.  nothing came to her mind.  She was just about to go to sleep when the buzzer rang.  She was comfy, settled in and making an effort to sleep early tonight.  the day before had her in and out of sleep.  the body retaliates and takes what it needs eventually.  she wished for that take over now.

CRASH... came the thunder.  Her darkened room lit up with the lightening then another BOOM!  Rocking her head back and forth, the sharp cracks came from her neck as if to compete with the storm's own noise.

she held a pen, then a pencil.. started to doodle on the page but nothing came.

"Bah.. might as well check facebook" she winced.  This was a time waster and she was sure to do more harm than good.  But as soon as she pulled up her keyboard, her fingers started to type.

A browser opened, she typed in an address... once she had it bookmarked.  Here was where she would write every day, diligently making stories for others to read. Now she was rusty.  She was scared.  would she still have what it takes?

"freewrite" she answered her own question.

The freedom to write whatever comes to mind, just to get the writing muscle used to the words again.

her fingers flew over the keys with nonsense words.  the rain pattered down on her window ledge and she tried to match the rhythm with her typing.  It was soon hard to tell which was faster.

after 15 minutes, she stepped back, panting from her exercise and she smiled.  it was rough and very much out of her own style, but at least it was something.

freewrite

"I need to get out of here!"

"Calm down, Marissa."

"How can i be calm? I feel like i'm going to crawl out of my skin, you have to get me outta here."

"There's nothing we can do right now, shh! Did you hear that?"

"I can't hear anything past my beating heart. What are we going to do Anthon..."

"QUIET. I think someone's coming."

"Oh God, no, we have to get out of here."

"DAMNIT Marissa! Don't make me hold your mouth again. We can't be heard you don't want us to go into the box like last time, right?"

"RI.... right. I'll be quiet. Anthony?"

"Yeah?"

"I really have to get out of here."

"Ok, that's better. Now, take my hands in yours. That's it, that's my girl. Close your eyes and pay attention to your heart. Shhh.. i know you hear the footsteps. You must remain calm for us to leave, right? Good. Now, squeeze my hands, I'm here and i'm not going anywhere. Listen to your heart. Feel the blood flowing from your chest into the rest of your body. The heart is your center and all life is pouring from that one spot. Yes, that's it. I can see it in your smile. Can you hear the footsteps any more?"

"no..."

"Excellent. Open the gates, Marissa. Yes, that's it. I can see the light. Now, look at me."

"I-I, I can't!"

"Shhh, why not?"

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You want to get out of here, don't you?"

"Y-yes, but not if it's going to hurt you."

"They're coming for you, Marissa. You only have one chance to get out. If you don't put yourself first, they will capture you and I'll never see you again."

"But... if i open the gates, i won't see you either."

"If my destiny is the same in both cases, why not choose the path that sets you free? Open the gates, Rissa."

"I.... goodbye, Anthony."