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."

freewrite - nervous

She paced back and forth. The room was 5' x 7' and there was hardly enough space to make full strides. She reasoned that massaging opposite palms with her thumbs was an attempt for some relief. The nervous gesture was really just to keep from biting her nails.

"Why am i feeling this way now," she asked herself. "Kathy, focus..."

The day was going okay for once. Kathy's book signing at Barnes & Nobel was a huge success. After years of writing, something finally caught a publisher's attention. She smirked at that thought, the words weren't the only thing being noticed.

Three years ago, Frederick Prichard stared at a slim brunette through the coffee shop window. He laughed as he watched an order take place of decaf coffee at one of the hottest caffeine spots in town. The barista handed her a cup with so many markings it was impossible not to recognize her. He watched as she maneuvered through the long line of waiting customers without looking up from her Blackberry. He opened the door as she exited.

"Thank you," she quietly mumbled.

"You're welcome, Miss Rogers," he replied, keeping the door open.

For a moment, the Blackberry was forgotten. She looked up to see who spoke her name and found a tall man holding the door open, looking straight at her.

"I'm sorry, how do you know..." she trailed off as the thought occurred to her she just confirmed that was her name.

"Miss Rogers, please excuse me for being so forward. My name is Frederick Prichard, you can call me Rick."

"Thank you for holding the door, Mr. Prichard, but the AC will escape," she smiled politely. "Did you want to speak with me?"

"Well, yes," Rick released the door after another customer had entered. "There is a park just up the way, may i have some of your time?"

"I don't know... i have an appointment in" she twisted her elbow up just enough to look at her watch while keeping the coffee upright "oh my God, i'm late already. Maybe we can talk another time, Mr. Prichard?"

"An appointment with Leonard Publishing, yes?"

"How did you..." her voice trailed again.

"My assistant let me know i could find a Miss Kathy Rogers down at the coffee shop ordering a decaf latte. And Miss Rogers, you're right on time."

"free rant" - The Letter

~something in here describing the dad, coming home and checking his mail when he comes across this letter from his daughter~

"Hi Daddy,

Sorry it's been so long in writing to you. I've been thinking some things over and wanted to figure out how to express some of my thoughts and feelings from the past.

There are several things that have weighed on my mind, especially recently - well in the last few years recently, that i think may have caused me to act in certain ways. Basically, while i have always had a mother complex, that somehow was coupled with an eagerness to accommodate.

When you and i used to drive on the expressway, i vaguely remember conversations we used to have about the poor state of young people, world hunger and other destitute adults. These conversations always seemed to get to you where you'd pretty much break down and cry to the point where we had to pull over so you could compose yourself.

Being little and seeing your parent cry would probably freak out some kids. For a time, i would get worried, mostly because i was afraid of being on the side of the road, but i thought it was my job to listen and make you feel better by being there. This apparently had a huge affect on me later on in life as i felt the need to be everyone's rock.

Do you remember these conversations? i don't remember us having them that often with Sarah (sister) in the car, though i'm sure it may have happened once or twice.

I don't regret having these experiences, and obviously they happened for a reason. My being, physical and emotional, was a comfort in someway and for that i am grateful. I've just been thinking about how that might have impacted me today.

Now that i have a life of my own, that capacity has grown and dwindled at the same time. At 7 years old, the fears and expectations of a child are very small and external forces may take precedence. But at 32, the priorities change to put the self first. I don't think i ever reached that point. Somehow i was forever stuck in letting the external forces take priority. With some help, i'm learning to turn those odds around.

In order to do that, there are some frustrations i wanted to tell you about, because it's no longer healthy (nor was it ever) to keep these feelings inside. For the sake of keeping the peace and for keeping the "smile" forever on i hid or cut off communications completely. So i will freely describe them below.

I was hurt to receive your email that you whisked yourself away to Puerto Rico. Like the other times you and mommy split up, i felt you were abandoning us. Not only were you going away, but you left me in charge to take care of the family. That was all in my head because i never saw mommy as a fit to take care of anyone. So when you left for the 3rd time, i wondered why you didn't reach out to us for help. Again in my head that i thought i could have helped, in a way to comfort you - even though that's not my role."