The Signing

I can hear the buzz right outside the door. The murmuring chit chat of a couple hundred people standing in line, comparing notes. I am humbled and frightened simultaneously. My publisher is next to me conducting some sort of business on her cell phone- she is always on her cell phone, it used to make me bristle but that cell phone is what brought me here so I can't complain too much. The event coordinator for the bookstore is on my other side ear piece in ear and talking animatedly with the voice on the other end- no doubt someone out on the line. Behind me sits my sister sipping from a glass of wine and relating embarrassing anecdotes about my to a gaggle of star struck book sellers. They weren't scheduled to work that day but had come in to meet me and get signed, I give a small snort at this. They see me as some sort of hero- the book lover that wrote a book...one of them who made it. Everything is in motion all around me but I am still and quiet thinking about how I've come full circle, how even though I never worked in this particular store- I know it intimately. I know these people and I know this world and I never imagined that I would be standing here on the other side of the mirror.

"It's time", the coordinator gently guides me towards the door as she nods curtly in response to the voice in her ear. The door opens and I'm assaulted by a wall of adoration and cheering and shouting. A small part of me wants to cover my ears with both hands and fall into a fetal ball at their feet screwing my eyes shut, the rest of me takes a deep breath and thanks god that I don't blush easily as I feel the heat infuse my entire body and my hands begin to shake with nerves. I smile then, it's shaky but genuine as I move towards my seat in the signing area trying to make eye contact with everyone as I walk along the line. Faces swim past me young and old, men and women. I smile at that- didn't think men would be my core audience so their presence is nice. I catch snippets of conversations as I seat myself and break open the seal on a bottle of water.

"I heard it's a true story- torrid love affair between the three of them."

"No, no you have it wrong. It's a true story definitely but I heard she was still in love with him and told him to pursue the other one."

"Well I heard that she was secretly in love with Jennifer but pushed her back into his arms because she thought they belonged together and was being a martyr."

"Martyr? Who even uses that word anymore? No you are all reading too much into it. The true love story is between Jennifer and Matt and she just kind of got caught in their story and helped it along."

"You think she'll tell us if Jennifer choose Matt in the end or Ned. I think she went back to Ned, I mean she wouldn't just give up on her husband like that."

"Sure she would, Matt is her soul mate and he was there first before Ned anyway. God I hate that she left the end of the book dangling!"

"Oh I don't. I think it was absolutely perfect how she left it so ambiguous. It lets me imagine it how I want it to end."

"And how would you want it to end?"

I wonder myself how she would want it to end as I smile at the next beaming face and ask who I should address my words to. The other women's voice gets lost in the din and I will never know how she sees the ending of my book but I smile to myself as I realize this is exactly what I wanted when I sent my baby out into the world. Truthfully, I'm not even sure myself how it turns out. I have my suspicions but no confirmation and I catch myself scanning the crowd every now and again hoping to see them, or maybe just her. I had thought that she might come but it's been so long and they don't really owe me any answers, I'm profiting off of their story as it is.

After about two hours, I catch the coordinator out of the corner of my eye scanning the crowd. I wonder if she is trying to decide where to cut off the line. My hand feels as though it may fall off soon but I keep going. I know what it's like to wait for just a second of time with someone I admire and I won't disappoint those in front of me so I bend down to sign yet another book and that's when I smell her. I freeze for half a second, my hand poised mid signature as my blood boils and my heart jumps into my throat. Without looking up I struggle to finish signing the book in front of me and then glance quickly at the person thanking me profusely. She is next, I know it even without looking- I know her scent just as I know his- they are both so unique. I fiddle with my water bottle too nervous to look up until she speaks to me.

"So how does it end?"

Her voice is still the same and I find that I didn't realize just how much I missed it. I take one last trembling breath and calling myself a coward force my head up. The first thing I notice is her large, round belly. I pause there for an instant my body flooded with envy, regret, pain, happiness and joy for her. It's painful to see her have that which I cannot but I can't be upset not when I know just how much it means to her as well and as I raise my head towards her smiling face I find that I can deny her nothing and feel so much warmth towards as my smile matches hers.

I don't know if anyone noticed my odd reaction to this woman before, but as I stand and make my way around the table towards her, our smiles lighting up the room, I can feel all eyes on me. I reach out and gently lay my hands on her belly, staring down in wonder. She asks me again "so, how does it end?" I meet her eyes, grinning even harder as I feel the baby move beneath my hands. "I don't know", I tell her. "You tell me."

She grins back at me and covers my hands with her own. I look at our hands together feeling the baby move when I notice that her rings are different. Her wedding rings are different. She must notice the quick intake of breath I make because she squeezes my hands once and then tilts her head to the right pointing my attention. I close my eyes again and take a deep breath, already knowing what I am about to see. I turn my head and when I open them he is standing there, a hesitant smile on his face. He is worried about my reaction but he shouldn't be. I am suddenly so happy for the both of them that I start crying and laughing all at once. I don't care that we are in a room full of people who are no doubt wondering if these two people with me are the elusive Jennifer and Matt. I don't care that I holding all these people up after they have waited for so long, all I care about is that two people I care deeply for finally figured it out and I can't stop hugging her and kissing her cheek and now we are both crying and I'm sure we are making a fantastic scene but I just don't give a shit. Then, suddenly, he is behind me and wrapping his arms around me as I turn to hold him back and he still smells so good. It's a sin how good this man smells and all I can think over and over is "Thank god. Thank god, thank god, thank god." They figured it out and I am so happy for them I could just burst and finally, my story has an ending.

Hi Honey I'm Home

All I can see in my mind's eye is their feet moving just outside of the sheets and all I can hear are her soft sighs- those sighs she makes just as she starts to really let go. I have closed the door lightly- I'm not sure why- and I am standing against it listening to the muffled moans grow louder behind me through the door. They never even noticed my interruption. I'm not sure if I'm more shocked by the fact that there is someone in our bed with her or by who it is...or by the fact that I can't seem to bring myself from leaving this door- from hearing the act reach it's final crescendo. Billy, our Corgi, sits at my feet watching me with those sorrowful Basset Hound eyes I could never explain from his papers. Yeah buddy, go ahead and pity me, I think to myself. Billy begins to howl mournfully, inexplicably and I wonder if they will notice. They do. I hear a mumbled "what the hell is wrong with that dog?" I'm tempted to yell back "he's got some fucking loyalty to his master which is a helluva lot more than I can say for you you son of a bitch!" But I don't say it because my mother isn't a bitch. Instead I wrap my arm around Billy and- lifting him up- I turn to walk out the door. I slam it.

Venetian Sunsets

The best time to make the crossing from the Lido to Venice is just before sunset so you can watch the golden glow come over the city as you approach. It's early evening and the ocean air is cool after the heat of the day and a fine mist covers your skin as the vaporetto chugs over the waves. The smell of diesel mixes with salt and the engine is loud behind you but it all mixes together to lull you as your gaze settles on the glowing city in the distance. The setting sun blazes a warm fire across the sky and sparkles as it catches the campanile ringing in the evening. It travels jumping from rooftop to rooftop setting fires to the gold plated spires and mosaics on the Basilica di San Marco before racing to San Giorgio and beyond. As you come closer, La Serenissima reveals that her beauty still exists even in these days beyond the flower of her youth- in fact, she is more beautiful now with her cracked lines and history. You are coming closer, minutes from docking and returning to her heart but for half a minute you wish you could stay in the middle of the ocean forever just at dusk admiring her glistening in the falling light.

Harold Grayson

Harold was not the brightest child to ever walk across Allentown Elementary School's formerly lush lawns. He did, however, posses an imagination of gigantic proportions- far more vast then even the Grand Canyon or what Harold imagined the vastness of the Grand Canyon to be since he had never been outside of Allentown, population 2, 034. Something about the numbers in the population sign always bothered Harold and when his mother drove them into town, he would stare at the numbers as they flashed past and he would imagine that they instead read 1,234 or 2,345. Harold like precision and order. That 0 thrown into the population could end up causing chaos, one never knew. If a psychologist ever stopped to talk to Harold they would be pleasantly perplexed by the presence of both a high trend towards anal retentiveness and an astounding imagination.

Take for example the afternoon two weeks prior in which Harold had been lucky enough to stumble upon a beat up dollar bill twisted and caught up in the chain link surrounding the school's edge. He had been walking the perimeter of the school because it was PE time and Harold was NOT fond of physical energy, exercise, education or any other e that expended effort. That his mother was often found at the sewing machine adding elastic to his pants was a testament to this. The dollar bill was no longer expending energy either. It was twisted and torn and stuck between the chain link and the plywood school administrators had tacked onto the fence to keep predators from looking in. When Harold thought of predators he imagined giant black panthers slowly stalking through the bushes golden eyes flashing on the children of Allentown Elementary like spotlights emerging from giant black depths. These were not the kind of predators school administrators envisioned- not that there were really any predators of the other variety around either as Allentown was rather a safe haven, but one never knew and George Bussey the Principal was fond of late night law dramas.

Harold paused in his shuffling around the field to get down on his hands and knees to secure his prize and as he did a great tearing was heard. Harold shook his head and crawled deeper into the bushes to hide his torn pants from the others. His mother was going to tan his hide for ruining another pair of pants but this didn't really bother him as he had greater things to worry about such as the masked murderer who had escaped from jail. Clearly the man had robbed the local Allentown branch of the Pine Hills Credit Union to secure funding for his escape down to the Yucatan Peninsula of Mexico- Harold had watched a travel channel show on Tulum in Quintana Roo and was convinced that all escaped criminals with bank robbing tendencies ended up down there like that accountant who killed his wife in that movie made from that book by that scary author. After robbing the Allentown branch of the Pine Hills Credit Union, the escaped murderer must have dropped this beat up old dollar while making his way to the edge of town where his getaway car and mob daughter girlfriend were waiting for him. Harold breathed a sigh of relief realizing that the murderer was probably already halfway to Tulum and therefore wouldn't really care if Harold pocketed this one beat up dollar bill.

"Harold? Harold Grayson? Where'd you get off to son?" The PE teacher Coach Brown yelled out for Harold while crashing through the bushes. Ellen Jennings had been a looker back in the day and Coach Brown's junior year sweetheart but then that good for nothing Pete Grayson had come into town and a few months later Ellen was barefoot, pregnant and sporting a new last name. Coach Brown shook his head wondering how such a pretty and smart girl like her had ended up with such a bone head good for nothing son just as he stumbled across the aforementioned boy.

"Oh. Harold there you are. Whatcha got there a buck? Well, put it in your pocket son...wait a minute. Harold have you split your pants again? Boy you are going to get a whipping from your mamma! Well...come on, here you can tie my jacket around your waist till after school."

Harold Grayson happily marched after Coach Brown a rather large red and white track jacket drooping from his waist the arms practically dragging alongside his scuffed up sneakers. Harold held his prize in his hand and wondered if there were Credit Unions in Tulum and if so hoped that they closed up shop when they saw the notorious escaped convict murderer who liked to rob banks coming into town.

"Harold come on boy get your head out of the clouds and get over here. I've got other classes to teach."

Harold continued on at the same pace as a man with prison tattoos and cash falling out of his pocket stood with his gal on the beaches of Tulum watching the sun set.

Trunk Show

"There's a body in that trunk I just know it."

My mother's declaration upon my arrival for lunch was not altogether unusual, she has a history of making outlandish declarations. What was unusual, was the certainty behind her declaration, so certain in fact that I now find myself crouching against the back of the couch with her, face pressed to the glass when I'm not using the binoculars she passes over to me every now and again. The trunk in question belongs to an old rusted hoopty that in a former life was probably a gold cadillac- year uncertain. Mom says that it just appeared there overnight about a week ago. At first, she didn't think much of it but after a few days of it not moving she got curious. She says that people used to hang out on the corner near it but lately there haven't been too many people around it and if there are they move quickly past. She also says that sometimes she see cats and dogs sniffing around and the other day a dog howled while staring at the trunk.

I'm not typically given over to gross speculation but there is something about this beat up old monster that has me intrigued and I can't tear my eyes away from their search for any sign of something unusual and there are plenty of things that seem unusual now that my mom's words are bouncing around in my brain. For one, there does seem to be a strange amount of animal activity. It's two in the afternoon and the middle of August in the city. I can't think of anything- animal or human- that would sanely sit in the sun unless there was going to be a big payoff and there are least five dogs resting in various positions around or near the car, panting. The piece de resistance, however, is the giant raven sitting on the trunk that I first thought was a Buzzard until the sane part of my brain reminded the clearly hallucinating part that there isn't a Buzzard to be found anywhere in the city...short of the zoo.

My mother elbows me sharply in the ribs. "See! I told you! There is a BODY in that trunk!" In my mind, the way my mother says BODY is capped and bolded, perhaps even underlined. I nod at my mother's words, thoughts drifting towards a possible course of action when -quick as lightening- I am resolved to go out there and sniff around, literally and figuratively.

"Mom. I'm going out there."

"I'll go with you." My mom is standing by the door, eyes flashing before her words have even finished traveling through my consciousness. I wonder how many days she has been sitting waiting to find someone to trek down there with.

We creep down the stairwell, foregoing the elevator- elevators don't really paint the picture necessary for murder mysteries I tell myself. The stairwell echoes with the soft ringing of keds on metal. I go first. My mother is not frail, but the image of us tumbling down the steps has me placing myself as a buffer for her. The afternoon sunlight is brutal after being in the darkened building and I blink furiously as I push open the lobby doors. I feel my mother tread my heel as she presses close in anticipation. We both pause and stare at the car. The dogs have heard us and two have cocked their ears in our direction but nothing more- they remain vigilant to their watch. I wonder if my mom is taking the deep breaths that I am, searching for a hint of something foul in the air. The heat is already making my head pound and I'm starting to regret my decision when my mom moves to step around me. I want to throw my arm across her chest and keep her behind me but I'm stopped from following through by the sound of sirens approaching and the blast of air conditioning at my back from the opening lobby doors.

Mrs. Rhodenstein is standing in the entrance way, phone in hand. She begins to talk to my mom in hurried whispers as I watch a patrol car speed around the corner and screech to a stop, not anticipating the proximity of the hoopty to the corner. Despite his best intentions, the patrol man still manages to tap the rear bumper of the car with his cruiser sending startled dogs scattering and my eyebrows skyward as the trunk of the hoopty gently pops open and bounces- not quite open not quite closed. I'm holding my breath.

My mother steps closer to me and reaches for my hand while Mrs. Rhodenstein stands speechless- something that no doubt would have sent her husband in cardiac arrest from shock had he not already kicked the bucket five years ago already. The second patrolman climbs out of the government issued Taurus and nods in our general direction. I hope he's not going to ask us to go back inside because I have no intention of leaving now that we are this close. They are young, probably fresh out of the academy and sent on calls placed by too curious for their own good old ladies. Patrol man A- the one who was driving marches up to the car with authority and reaches out to lift the lid. It flies up with a bang startling all of us- including the cops. Including the raccoon.

My mother squeezes my hand tightly and Mrs. Rhodenstein screams while the cop jumps and the raccoon scrambles even further into the back of the trunk. I have never in my life seen a raccoon in the city and apparently the raccoon has never seen two cops and three nosy women. What if the dogs had still been around? I'm suddenly very disappointed that there wasn't a body in that trunk and as the three of us turn to go back into the air conditioned building leaving the cops to deal with the abandoned raccoon infested car, I listen to my mother and Mrs. Rhodenstein giggle like excited schoolgirls and I wonder why I was so set on seeing a body.

White Converse

Tom Matheson's big blue truck roared past on dusty Neil Lane, spraying dirt and rocks in it's wake. Jimmy Rogan leaned out the passenger side window and yelled back into the dust cloud "Hey TT wanna polish my chrome for me?" The insipid laughter of 16-year-old boys with their daddy's trucks echoed around her as Jenny 's eyes watered and she coughed, cursing the shithead boys and their stupid nickname TT, she didn't even have tiny tits anyways. Stupid dickwads.

Jenny angrily kicked at a pebble in the road scuffing up her new converse and pissing her off even more. It was not a good day. The afternoon sun fell around her lighting a fiery sunset in her hair. She was beautiful and there would come a day when boys would trip over themselves for her and the taunting of high school youth would reveal itself as nothing more but the unschooled and insecure precursors to suave courtship. Her mother knew this as did most of the middle-aged men in Yelida but Jenny just thought that boys her age were assholes who only thought with their pricks. The only boy that was remotely tolerable was her second cousin Barcley, whose mom ran the Dairy Queen on 3rd and whose daddy had left them a long time ago, even before Jenny's dad.

Barcley was supposed to wait for Jenny on Wednesday afternoons so they could study together in his mom's shop, but she hadn't found him waiting in the usual spot and so she'd started out alone. Stupid prick. She was mumbling to herself that they were all stupid pricks when a murder of crows was startled out of the bush just ahead causing Jenny to throw her hands up around her head, books landing with heavy clumps at her feet. Heart still beating a furious rhythm she reached down to pick up her books nervously glancing around for whatever had spooked the crows. She didn't have to wait long for the culprit to reveal himself- themselves.

Coming out of the bushes just a few feet away were Barcley and Aaron Wells. Jenny crouched down even lower against the ground hidden by nothing more then their inattention. Aaron Wells was a senior pitcher for the baseball team, Jenny couldn't imagine how Barcley and him had even come to know each other much less hang out after school. As she watched Aaron casually bumped into Barcley laughing a little when when the smaller boy stumbled. Barcley punched Aaron on the shoulder in mock anger and then reached down and grabbed Aaron's hand, gently rubbing his thumb against Aaron's. They walked a few steps like this when Jenny finally unfroze, unconsciously uttering a surprised gasp before quickly returning to the task of picking up her books before the boys could turn and see her gaping at them like a wide-mouth fish. She cursed under her breath.

"Jen? You ok?"

Jenny continued rooting around in the dirt trying to school her face as she heard two pairs of sneakers stop followed by rushed whispers that ended with one pair continuing on it's way while the other came closer to her.

"Jen...uh here let me help you."

Between the two of them all of the books were returned to the bag which Barcley placed over his shoulder as he turned to continue walking up the road. Jenny stood rooted to the spot shuffling the toe of her shoe in the dirt. Barcley stopped, but didn't turn around. Jenny could feel him gathering his voice from where she stood.

"Jen, I just...uh what I mean is that...uh..."

Jenny looked up as Barcley trailed off. She stared at his drooped shoulders and thought that he looked defeated. She didn't like defeat on Barcley. He turned around to face her and shrugged wearing a slight, worried half smile while raising his hands palm up towards her. Jenny sighed and looked at the ground again before nodding slightly.

"So...are we going to study now?" Jenny asked finally looking up at Barcley with an arched eyebrow. The smile that burst across his face was like the sunrise and it sent warmth throughout her chest. Barcley nodded and turned to head up the road again waiting for her to catch up this time. They walked in silence for a few steps before Jenny reached over and lightly cuffed Barcley on the back of the head.

"My new shoes are dirty you know, and it's partly your fault!"

Barcley sighed and rolled his eyes heavenward but he was grinning when he said 'Yeah, Jen I know. It's always my fault." They walked on in companionable silence, shoes kicking up small dust clouds that settled in their wake.

The writer

The teddy bear was laying sideways on the shelf. It was easy to see why he'd been picked over and left behind with one eye dangling by a thread and his oddly tufted fur. Elaine went straight to him tugged by the same urge that had been the salvation of many an unwanted beast throughout the years. She would name him Bobby and with the naming, she cuddled him tucked under one arm close to her breast and marched towards the cashier daring anyone to judge a single woman in middle age hugging a teddy bear. Those who sought to say anything- even with a glance- were quelled by her fierce stare. She had always been a warrior.

A bumpy ride up five miles of dirt road and a needle and thread later, found Bobby sitting comfortably between two pillows on a well broken in sofa- both eyes properly in place. Elaine, rescuer of teddy bears, puttered around the kitchen her mother's teapot in hand. She stopped to take in the view from the kitchen window while the pot filled. Roughly 25 acres all to herself and if she turned north, south, east or west she could find peace in all of that space. Besides being a white knight to teddy bears, she had recently welcomed one rather large and prissy pig named Petunia. There was once another unwanted character named Joe. Elaine had wanted Joe but all her space was still not enough and he'd left. He'd been a warrior too.

The water started to run over the side of the kettle and Elaine hummed a little tune as she fixed the tea, occasionally glancing over at Bobby and smiling in contentment. She'd write a good story for Bobby. Since Joe had left, she found herself writing sad tales of love and loss that nauseated her and she didn't want to write whiningly anymore. Nope, it was time for some hope- perhaps a tale starring Bobby and Petunia.

A pig who slept with a teddy bear? Naw, nobody'd believe it.