A break in the deal

With my recent computer problems, limited writing time, and a new-found desire to finish a book I’m working on, I’m suspending the 52 Cards project.  I plan on finishing it eventually, and to that end I’ll list the remaining cards, as they appeared in the shuffled deck back in January (I haven’t looked ahead until tonight).  Some of them might get skipped to if I feel like writing something off my regularly scheduled beaten path.

Remaining cards:

Six of Hearts (I know that it was last week’s, but I don’t want to let it go)

King of Spades (this week’s)

King of Diamonds

Seven of Clubs

King of Hearts

Three of Spades

Six of Spades (part 2 of Inside-Outside Straight)

Eight of Diamonds

Eight of Spades (part 3 of Inside-Outside Straight)

Five of Clubs

Ten of Diamonds

Ten of Hearts

Seven of Hearts

Two of Spades (part 3 of  Two-Island Lake)

Two of Clubs (part 4 of Two-Island Lake)

Nine of Diamonds

Queen of Diamonds

Eight of Hearts

Nine of Spades (part 4 of Inside-Outside Straight)

Ten of Spades (conclusion of Inside-Outside Straight)

Queen of Hearts

Six of Hearts

Tonight, I’m in the same chair I’ve been using to write most of the entries, but my heart isn’t in writing tonight.  The computer I’ve composed countless blogs on, discovered numerous artists on, and laughed with at countless Homestarrunner cartoons, is showing only a blue screen and a spinning wheel near the bottom.  I’ve been on the tech support site, and so far no remedy has worked.  I had a story planned out, and I might post it later, computer willing.

UPDATE 1 8/14/2009 My computer is in the shop, and I’ll know more next week.  I’ll try to get this one written sometime before the next one goes up.

Four of Hearts

I’m going to go ahead and admit something right now: I have nothing.

When I first conceived this idea back in December, I knew there would be weeks where I would struggle for something to write about.  I didn’t know what card would be the one that finally ended my run, but I didn’t have the four of hearts on the list.  I spent a good chunk of my idea time trying to think of something to write involving the four of clubs (or just a card) that I could do in 500 – 1000 words, but no luck.  I’m reduced to using the card to talk about how I couldn’t think of what to write about.

Lame, I know.

The temptation to call it a day with this blog is there.  I can’t deny the siren song of the easy way out.  I don’t have many readers, and I know some of the stuff I’ve written isn’t my best.  I do have some unfinished business, like the last of my “aces” series about our cats.  I still have four parts of “inside/outside” straight, featuring Derek Winters.  I also need to finish “Two Island Lake”, which I hope to turn into a much larger work in the future.  There are a few other cards I have ideas for, but the four of hearts was not one of them.

One of the other reasons to shut it down here is that it takes away time from the book I’m working on.  Chapter three is only halfway done, but that isn’t a bad thing.  The ending is still a work in progress, even with the rest of the book plotted out in my head.

Another thing I’d like to do is Cliffhanger Theater II.  For those just finding their way here, or for anyone who didn’t read it (and there were many people who didn’t read it), Cliffhanger Theater was a blog story I wrote a minimum of 500 words (on average) for each day over the course of a year.  It taught me a lot about pacing, characters, and how important it is to work on my writing.

So, again, I am sorry for totally copping out on the four of hearts.  The card deserved more, and I let it down.  Tune in next week for something (hopefully) more interesting.

Three of Hearts

***threeofhearts*** has signed in

threeofhearts: r u on?

robotboots13: yeah, just working on some blogs and stuff

threeofhearts: i just wanted to see how you’re doing

robotboots13: no complaints here

threeofhearts: ok good

robotboots13: how are things in your neck of the woods

robotboots13: ?

threeofhearts: Things are good.  School is keeping me busy

robotboots13: Yah work is keeping me pretty busy here.

threeofhearts: Seeing anyone?

robotboots13: Nope.  There’s a shocker.

threeofhearts: Ha, no really I thought you’d be dating someone by now

robotboots13: No such luck.  You and I only started dating due to several odd coincidence

robotboots13: I’ve not had any of those lately

threeofhearts: whatevs

robotboots13: it’s true

threeofhearts: you deserve someone.  you’ll find her

robotboots13: one of these days

threeofhearts: I’m serious

robotboots13: yeah yeah

threeofhearts: You’re everything a girl wants?

robotboots13:Everything?  I’m obviously missing something since you broke things off

threeofhearts: I had my reasons…i’m sorry.  I just want you to be happy.  I didn’t think you’d be happy with me

robotboots13: I was only happy with you

threeofhearts: You wouldn’t have been in time

robotboots13:we’ll never know

threeofhearts: I just want you to find someone

robotboots13: I hear you found someone

threeofhearts: It’s not the one guy you probably think it is

robotboots13:I was hoping it wasn’t that guy

threeofhearts: His name is Craig

robotboots13:Do you still talk to Vern?

threeofhearts: Hah, no.  I thought you were asking about Garth

robotboots13:I take that as a no?

threeofhearts: No…Vern is way history

robotboots13:Good.  I never liked that guy

threeofhearts: Like you’d like any guy I date

robotboots13:I don’t have anything against them

threeofhearts: It’s me you have something against?

robotboots13:no…i just…no

threeofhearts: It’s okay…really.  I’d hate me too

robotboots13:I don’t hate you.  Maybe that’s the problem

threeofhearts: I don’t hate you either.  I just…you did your best.  You and I just wouldn’t work in the long term.

robotboots13:I tried.  I was willing to try anything.

threeofhearts: That’s why I don’t think you’d be happy.  You’d try so hard and become someone you weren’t.

robotboots13:So you decided for me?

threeofhearts: It wasn’t easy

robotboots13:Obviously, since you were dating Garth within two weeks.

threeofhearts: Yeah well…

robotboots13: Yeah well indeed.  Then there’s the phone call.

threeofhearts: Phone call?

robotboots13: You called a few weeks ago and told me about going over to some friend’s place.  You gave me a nice long description of how you were making out with your friend’s husband while drunk, and what that all led to.

threeofhearts: I…what.  Oh god…I really called?

robotboots13: Yep, and you kept saying “I have no idea why you’re telling me this”

threeofhearts: I must have been drunk, or…crap…I remember now.  I was in a weird mood.

robotboots13: I’ll say.

threeofhearts: I’m sorry…I wasn’t trying to hurt you or push you away further…I…jeez, I don’t know what I was thinking

robotboots13:It’s fine.  It’s over now.

threeofhearts: It’s not fine.  You brought it up.

robotboots13:Well, I was angry at the time, but I got over it.

threeofhearts: Why can’t you stay mad at me?

robotboots13:Were you trying to make me mad?  Give me a reason to hate you?

threeofhearts: No, no no…

threeofhearts: I don’t know what I was thinking

robotboots13: It’s over and done with now

threeofhearts: I’m sorry

robotboots13:Forget it

threeofhearts: You didn’t.

robotboots13:Yeah well…I should go to bed.  I need to go into work early.

threeofhearts: …

threeofhearts: all right.  sweet dreams

threeofhearts: i’m sorry

threeofhearts: I wasn’t trying to hurt you

threeofhearts: I just…

robotboots13:It’s okay.

robotboots13:G’nite

***robotboots13*** has signed out

Nine of Hearts

Dr. Mosely tapped his pen on his glasses.  The rhythm of eighth notes wasn’t helping him finish the task that was reflecting in his glasses. He took another deep breath, and he moved the pen in front of his eyes.  He carefully examined how much ink he could see through the transparent midsection of the pen, and then his left hand whisked it away.  He began tapping another unsteady rhythm on his glasses when he heard a buzzing sound.  He tucked the pen into the pocket of his lab coat, and he directed the arrow on the screen to a taskbar.  An excel document shot up as Dr. Mosely slowly stood up.  He ran his hands down from the part in his hair as he walked to the door.  He opened the door, and a woman wearing a lot of blue stood before him.  Her blue blouse and blue slacks didn’t quite match, and her athletic shoes were a beacon of white on an unathletic body.  Her dirty blond hair was short and in a bob that wasn’t being well maintained.  She looked older than she should, and there was no makeup to hide what the years had been like.  Dr. Mosely nodded and stood aside so she could walk in.  The woman hesitated, and Dr. Mosely let a small smile emerge.  “Relax” he said.  “First trip to the morgue?”

“Yeah, more or less.  I’ve seen a few people die in the hospital, but that’s it.”  She slowly walked into the cold room, and Dr. Mosely shut the door behind her.

“They told me you would be down today.  Would you like to view the body?”

“Yes.”

Dr. Mosely walked slowly over to the wall of metal drawers.  He found the right one and pulled the lever.  Before he pulled open the drawer, he turned to the woman.  “I’m sorry…I didn’t catch your relation to the deceased Miss Prouse.”

“Mrs. Cynthia Carrabella now.  I haven’t been Miss Prouse in a long time.  Harl was my brother.”

“Harl?”

“Sorry” Cynthia said.  “Harrold.  We always called him Harl when we were all kids.  Harl was the eighth of the ten of us.  We all had nicknames for each other.”

“Ah” Dr. Mosely said.  He pulled open the chilled metal drawer, and Cynthia tried not to show any emotion as she looked upon her dead brother.  “He’s bigger than I remember, but that’s him” she replied.

“We didn’t need you here for identification Mrs. Carrabella.  The fingerprints did the trick.”  Dr. Mosely watched as she slowly walked up to the drawer.  The body looked peaceful, but the scars, tattoos, scrapes, burns and grime told a story that was anything but peaceful.  She looked him over until she reached the head, where a bullet wound had entered near his right temple.

“Was it self defense?”  She said.  Her voice remained strong and defiant as she slowly rubbed her own temples.  She began pacing at the foot of the drawer.

“That’s the report I’m getting from the police.  He was trying to shoot his way out of a botched hold-up at an Exxon on 14th Street.  Tox won’t be in for a while, but he looks to me like he’s on a few different drugs.  He was wanted in several robberies and assaults.”

“Harl was a wild child for a time.  He left the family under less than ideal circumstances.”

“If you don’t mind me asking Mrs. Carrabella, do you know what the tattoo on his right arm might mean?  I’ve seen all of them before, except that one.  It looks like the oldest.”

Cynthia slowly took a few steps and looked at the body’s bicep.  A faded tattoo of a nine of hearts was all by itself.  She said nothing, but her face was softening up.  For the first time since she’d walked in, she looked sad.  “I know what it is.”

“Really?  I’ve seen aces, kings, queens, jacks and the like, but never just a nine.”

“Back on the family farm, our golden retriever Sassy was expecting a litter.  Dad said we could each keep a puppy if we took good care of it.  He was convinced Harl would mistreat his, or do something horrible to it.  He took an old deck of playing cards, and he dealt out nine cards, one to each of us.  My oldest brother was in college, so dad made sure Harl got the nine.  He thought there was no way Harl would get a puppy that way.  Imagine…imagine his surprise when Sassy had nine puppies.  The last was the runt of the litter, so dad told Harl he had to spend every waking second with it until it was able to eat on it’s own.  He thought Harl would lose interest and nature would do the rest.  The thing is…Harl slept out in the barn for two weeks to make sure his puppy made it.  He fed it every few hours, and he made sure it was never cold.  It was like he was a different person.  He had almost failed second grade, and when the fall came and he went back to school, the teacher asked my parents if we were playing a joke on her by finding a different kid.  Nine turned his personality totally around.”

“Nine?”

“Harl named him Nine.  Dad said there was no way puppy number nine would make it, and Harl kept telling him nine would live.  The name kind of stuck.  God, he loved that dog.  Nine waited every day for him to come home.  He made the rest of us look bad because he took such good care of  Nine.  Do you know I don’t even remember what I named my puppy?  I was such a poor dog owner that my parents gave mine away in less than six months.  Harl became the best and the brightest of all of us.  Nine filled some kind of void he had.”

“What happened to him?”  Dr. Mosely walked to the foot of the drawer.  He kept his eyes where there were tissues.  Cynthia looked on the verge of crying.

“Nine lived a long, good life.  Harl found a college where he didn’t have to live on campus, and he had even found an apartment that let dogs live there.  Six weeks before college Nine died of natural causes.  Harl didn’t even know she was sick.  The vet said it looked like old age.  The other siblings and I all chipped in to get Nine a spot in a pet cemetery.  Harl cried for a week straight after the funeral.  He seemed all right after that, but then a week before college he just disappeared.  That was the last time any of us saw him.”

“According to his age…that would be almost twenty years ago.”

“I know…we all knew about the arrests, but he didn’t want to see any of us.  Granted, none of us made a great effort to see him.  Mom and dad died a few years ago, and our oldest brother died last year.  Everybody asked me about him, since I was the only one who had talked to him in the last twenty years.  We talked all of three times…every time he was asking for money, and every time I hung up on him.”  Cynthia reached out and touched the nine of hearts on the body’s arm.  The skid was cold to the touch, and Cynthia recoiled in horror instantly.

“I’m sorry” Dr. Mosely said.  He slowly pushed the drawer back into the wall.  As the latch locked, he looked to the right only to see Cynthia almost out the door.

“I…I’ll make arrangements with the funeral home…when…when do you think…think…”

“The body should be released in the next day or so.  Just have whichever funeral home call me.  I know them all, and they all do a great job.”

“Thank you…” Cynthia softly uttered, right before she flew up the stairs.  Dr. Mosely walked over to the stairway and closed the door.  He walked back over to the computer and minimized his excel document, which revealed his fantasy baseball team.

“Now, which shortstop is the better option” he said aloud to himself.  He sat back down, pulled out his pen, and once again started tapping his glasses.

Five of Hearts

Bryce took a sharp right and walked down the long hallway.  Room 324 was just ahead, and once he was done there, he could call it a night.  He tugged at his gray shirt, and itched his neck where the strap from his lanyard rubbed on his neck.  His mind was on a bowl of queso dip, the Rockies game, and a long night alone.  He swung open the door and froze in his tracks.  An older woman, maybe in her early fifties was sitting on the bed.  A mountain of tissues were beside her, and her face was painted with sadness and exhaustion.  She looked up as Bryce entered the room, and she took a deep breath.  Bryce was about to speak, but she cut him off.  “I was wondering when you’d get here” she said, almost sobbing the words as she spoke them.

“Ma’am…” Bryce was more than ready to continue, but the woman cut him off once again.

“I’ve been here for an hour, waiting for the hospital to send some kind of grief counselor.  They certainly don’t dress you very nicely” she said.  She was dressed in a black pantsuit that fit her frame nicely, and she was looking at Bryce’s gray shirt and jeans with contempt.  “And a lanyard to boot.  I should have known.  It wouldn’t kill them to have you people wear suits would it.  Oh, listen to me.  My husband died a few hours ago, and all I can do is criticize the damn hospital.  It’s nothing personal…Bryce.”

Bryce nodded as the woman continued.

“I know I need to go home and start getting affairs in order.  Kennith, rest his soul, knew that the end was probably coming.  He already picked his headstone and funeral home.  I helped him write his obituary a few months ago.  I had to do all the heavy lifting to stay positive.  All he could think about was how he was going to die.  He wasn’t even sure he wanted the heart transplant.  We were getting closer and closer.  Do you see this?”

The woman held a five of hearts in the air, and Bryce nodded.

“We started with the ten of hearts.  Kennith had a common blood type, and we moved up the waiting list for a donor heart pretty quickly, all things considered.  Every month or so a new card came in the mail from his surgeon.  He hand delivered the five two nights ago, right after we checked in.  We were halfway there.  The doctor even had the other cards in his pocket.  He thought that we’d have a donor if Kennith could just hold on a bit longer, but he didn’t.”  The woman started sniffling, and she took another tissue.  “I guess they were off a bit on how much time he had left.  I don’t blame them.  Do you know why?”

Bryce shook his head and started to open his mouth.  No words came out as the woman’s face began to fade from white to red.

“I’ll tell you why.  Kennith just gave up a few months ago.  That man had a heart that was slowly dying, and he started off good.  He really did.  He ate right, he quit smoking and drinking…even coffee.  Ever since the night he picked out his headstone he changed.  I know he was smoking.  I found the cigarette butts on our lawn.  I found the beer cans buried at the bottom of the trash last week.  He swears it wasn’t him, but on the way here I saw the ashtray in his car was full.  Hell, I found Slim Jim wrappers and Arby’s coupons in the backseat.  Is that crap really worth your life?  IS IT?”

Bryce quickly shook his head no.  He was starting to feel very uncomfortable.  The woman stood up, and the bed rolled back from where she stood.  She took a deep breath and walked to the window.  Bryce took a step forward, but she snapped back around like a slamming screen door.

“He slept with my sister you know. I’ve known for years.  It was just ten years ago, and we’ve been married for twenty.  I’ve played nice for years, even though I knew all about it from my loudmouth sister’s co-worker, who also happens to work with me on the parks committee.  I called my sister on it a year ago, and she confessed.  Now, I haven’t spoken to her since, but I’ll have to invite her to the damn funeral, won’t I?  The hell I will.  Do  you know he didn’t even confess as he was dying?  He didn’t say a damn word, even as he knew the end was coming.  He didn’t confess about my sister, or his secretary, or even our neighbor Florence.  He didn’t confess to any of his affairs, the money he hid, the dents he put in my car…any of it!  HE DIED WITHOUT EVEN SAYING HE LOVED ME!  I STOOD BY HIM UNTIL THE END AND HE…and he…”

The woman started sobbing again, and Bryce stood there with his hands at his sides.  He moved them behind his back, the he almost crossed his arms, and then he briefly cupped them in front of him, just below the belt-line.  He let them drop back to the sides as the woman straightened her back, and wiped her tear and makeup stained hands on her hips.

“He was my husband, but he’s gone now.  I’m going to go make some phone calls.  The funeral home already has all of his plans, so they don’t need me.  I’m going to throw out his stash of skin magazines, all of the cigars he was saving, and I’m going to pour his fifty year old scotch down the drain. Once the funeral is over I’m moving all his shit onto the front lawn, and I’ll have one hell of a garage sale.  Then I’m going to sell the house and start over.  Thanks for coming, but I don’t need  a grief counselor now.  I’m through grieving for that man.  I’m going to just move on.  Thanks for finally showing up.”  The woman’s shoes clacked on the floor as she strode past Bryce.  She swung open the door rapidly, and it slammed behind Bryce’s back.  He just stood there for a moment.  He heard the door open again, and then close behind him.

“Mrs. Sewich?”  came a voice.  A younger man in a suit walked past Bryce and looked around the room.  He looked back at Bryce and pointed his pen.  “Have you seen Mrs. Sewich?  I’m Carlton, and I’m here to serve as her grief counselor.”

“I don’t know where she is” Bryce said.  “I’m just here to fix the bed so the wheels lock.”

Jack of Hearts

Melissa took a deep breath.  She checked her hair in the mirror one last time, and it looked exactly the same as the last five times.  She reached into her purse and pulled out the reddest shade of lipstick she’d ever bought.  As she put it on, she started to wonder if she’d gone overboard on makeup.  She had been waiting to go out for what seemed like forever, but now that she was outside the bar she was starting to have second thoughts.  She tossed the lipstick back into her purse and opened the door.  Her legs slowly emerged from the car, and her high heels clicked onto the pavement.  She closed her eyes to enjoy how powerful and sexy she felt.  Her new black dress was tight in all the right places, and her new shoes felt amazing in spite of the fact she hadn’t worn heels in years.  She held her purse tightly as she closed her car door.  She looked at herself in the car’s window, and she smiled as she half-struck a pose.  Damn, I am looking hot tonight.  This should be easy. She walked around the car to the sidewalk, and she couldn’t help but notice the men giving her the approving eye as she came closer to the entrance.  She had an odd mix of euphoria and anxiety as she strutted towards the man at the door.  The doorman’s hungry smile greeted her, and after looking her up and down, he crossed his arms.

“Can I see some ID?” he asked.  Melissa blushed a bit as she pulled out her driver’s license.  “Is this right?  You don’t look thirty-eight.”

“I don’t look thirty-eight anywhere” she replied, even surprising herself that she had said it.

“I’ll bet” he said with a smile.  “Cover’s five bucks, but…I’ve never seen you before, and I’d like to see you again, so just go on in.”

“Thanks…maybe you will see me later” she said as she walked by.  She thought of touching his shoulder, but she decided against it as she walked into the bar.  The sound of people talking was almost more than the blaring sound system.  Smoke seemed to be everywhere, and the smell mingled with a subtle hint of alcohol and sweat.  She spotted at least five guys checking her out right away, and it was becoming obvious she may not have to buy a drink all night.  She wove her way to the bar, and found an open seat next to the waitress station.  As she sat, she noticed the man sitting next to her.  He had thick blond hair that was wavy and almost too perfect.  He was nursing a beer, and as she looked forward, she saw his face in the bar’s mirror.  Oh my God!  He is the best looking guy here.  No pressure, no pressure…might as well start big…She cleared her throat and turned her face towards his.  He was still staring at his half-empty mug of beer, and she wasn’t even sure if he’d seen her sit down.  His eyes were ocean blue, and he looked like he could be a double for a younger Ben Affleck.  He had a white shirt, red tie and black pants that were without wrinkles or lint.  He hadn’t taken his eyes off his mug since she sat down.  She wanted him to notice her, but he looked like he had other things on his mind.  Slowly, she began leaning towards him, until she had the courage to speak.  “Are you okay?”  He blinked a few times, and his eyes slowly looked to his left.  A smirk began to form, and he straightened his posture.

“Yeah.  I’m good.  Just a long day at work.”

“Aren’t they all?” Gosh that was a stupid thing to say.

“Pretty much, yeah.  You’ve never been here before, have you?”

“What makes you say that?”

“A woman that looks like you?  I’d remember.”  He quickly pounded his remaining beer, and he loudly placed the mug back on the bar.

“Let me buy you a drink” Melissa casually remarked.  What are you doing?  He’s supposed to buy you a drink!

The man smiled and pointed to his mug.  The bartender, almost coming from out of nowhere, took his mug and started filling it once more.  “Tell you what, I’ll get this round.  You can get the next one.  What are you drinking tonight?”

“Bahama Mama” she said.  The bartender nodded and muttered something she couldn’t hear before moving a few feet away to begin making her drink.  The man pulled a ten out of his pocket and sat it on the bar.  “My name’s Melissa, in case you were wondering.”

“I was, actually.  Tell me Melissa, why did you decide to hit the town tonight?”

“It’s Friday!  Do I need another reason?”  She started to turn her body towards the man.  She started planning her next move, and she was leaning towards sliding her foot up his leg.

“Maybe you do.  When was the last time you went on the prowl on a Friday?”  She hesitated for a moment.  I don’t want to say last week and have him think I’m easy.  I don’t want to say too long, otherwise he… “I’m going to say over a decade, no offense.”

Melissa’s jaw dropped as the man took a sip of beer.  The bartender sat her drink in front of her, and lifted the ten off the bar.  “Do you need change?” he asked, but the man just shook his head.

“A decade?  You obviously don’t know me very well.”  Melissa grabbed her drink and was ready to stand up.  The man took a long drink of beer and then sat his half full mug down.

“The ring finger on  your left hand has a mighty deep divot from a ring with a small band.”

Melissa froze in place.  She stared down at her drink and sighed.  “Anything else give it away” she said just loud enough for him to hear.

“A few things.  New shoes and hose, but the dress?  They haven’t made that particular dress in a while.  I can see what appear to be lines from it being on a hanger for a long time.  Your makeup is now but your hair is a bit dated.  That and you’ve been second guessing everything you’ve been doing since you walked in.  That tells me you haven’t played the dating game in a while.”  The man started drinking his beer once more, and Melissa took a sip from her drink.  She didn’t taste anything but the alcohol.

“It has been a long time.  Almost 20 years.  I’m just trying to get back in the game after…”

“After what” the man asked as he looked at Melissa while pointing to his beer.  “Don’t give me some bullshit line that your husband is dead.  Where is he?”

“Business trip.  He’s gone until tomorrow night.”  The bartender took the man’s mug away and started filling it once more.

“Let me guess.  He doesn’t appreciate you like he used to.”

“It’s not that” Melissa said.  The bartender sat the mug back in front of the man once more, and he held one hand out to stop her while the other pulled out a five dollar bill.

“Well, since you stumped me, I’ll buy my own beer.  What pushed you out of the house and into a den of wolves tonight?”

“We don’t talk like we used to.  We don’t get physical like we used to.  We’ve been married for almost fifteen years, and I think we’re growing apart.  He’s always focused on his job and his hobbies.”

“You don’t have a job or hobbies?”

“I do have a job yes” Melissa said as she started to swirl her drink around.  “I have hobbies as well.  I know some of it is my fault.  We’re both wrapped up in our own lives, and we don’t have as much of a life together anymore.”

“Have you talked to him about it?”

Melissa took another sip of her drink, but the taste had only gotten worse.  “No.  He thinks everything is fine.  We have pretty average sex every week or so, but other than that we barely see each other.  He’s off playing on-line poker or reading, and I’m off scrap-booking or I’m getting together with some of my friends.  I just want things to be more like when we started out together.”

“You thought it would be easier to shack up with some random guy than talk to your husband?”

“I just wanted to feel alive again.  I just don’t think I’m going to be happy with him, so I thought I’d find some fleeting happiness.”

“Fleeting being the operative word.  At least you don’t have any delusions about what you were out here for.  I’m sure it felt good to have all the guys here crane their necks to look your way.”

“Yeah” Melissa said as she stirred her nasty drink.  “It did.”

“Well, let me give you some free advice” the man said as he looked at his watch.  “You should go home.  Forget you came here to do this.  Forget why you came her to do this.  If your husband saw you in that get-up, I can guarantee the fire would be back.  Then, you strike while the iron is hot.  Talk to him about the great night you two had, and how it should happen more often.  Play your cards right and he’ll open up.”

“You really think so?”

“I do” the man said as the bartender brought him another beer.

“How can you know?”

“I am a marriage counselor during the day.  It takes a lot out of you, listening to marriages dissolving in front of you.  For what it’s worth, you made my year.  It isn’t often I can nip the process in the bud.”

Melissa’s face was red as she sat the drink on the bar.  “All right.  I’ll go home.  Deep down, I think I always knew this was a bad idea.”

“Hey, sometimes bad ideas can have good outcomes.  We’ll see.  I hope my advice helps.”

“Me too” Melissa slid off the stool and took a few steps away.  “By the way” she said as she turned around quickly.  “I never caught your name.”

“Jack” the man said with half a smile.

***

Melissa plopped on the couch and turned on the TV.  She was still in her dress and heels, and her head was still spinning from her trip out on the town.  She was thinking about her wedding, and how much she had invested in her marriage.  She smiled as she thought of the good times, keeping thoughts of the rough times far away.  The TV was on, but it might as well have been turned off.  Slowly, she stood up and turned off the TV.  It was late, and she was thinking about finally changing out of her dress and into some pajamas.  The remote landed on the sofa, just as she heard the front door unlocking.  Her husband stepped in and his suitcase hit the floor with a loud thud.  “Melissa?” he asked.  His eyes were wide and he was frozen in place.

“Todd?  I thought you were gone until Sunday?”

“We got their and the company we were meeting had been sold before we arrived.  We just decided to come back.  Well, I came back.  The rest of the guys are spending the weekend in Denver on the company dime.  I’d rather spend it with you…and I see I made the right call.”  His hungry eyes looked her over, and Melissa felt more powerful than she had at any point at the bar.  “Why did you dress up like this?”

“Dry run for when you got home” she said as she walked towards him.  “You should see what’s under the dress.”

“I will soon enough” Todd’s arms wrapped around Melissa tighter than they had in years.  Melissa’s lips found Todd’s, and soon the remote was being hastily shoved off the couch.

***

“I’m so glad we had this talk” Todd said.  Melissa was running her finger up and down Todd’s bare chest.  She was pressing as much of her skin against his as she could.  She felt at peace, and a thousand times better about how their marriage was going.  “I’m sorry I’m a typical guy who doesn’t talk about this stuff more often.”

“Well, for not talking about it often,  you had a lot to say.  What is it, four in the morning?”

“I think so.  Nope, five.  Hey, remember what we used to do after an all -nighter?”

“Pancakes at Perkins?  I can’t remember the last time we ate there.”

“Then let’s get dressed.  I think I can talk more with a tremendous twelve in me.”  The two of them quickly rolled out of bed, and they threw on whatever clothes were handy and easy to put on.  Melissa grabbed her car keys and Todd tossed her a jacket as they walked into the garage.  Todd was almost at the passenger door when he noticed Melissa was still in the garage entrance.

“What’s that?” she asked.  She still wasn’t moving forward.  She was pointing at the windshield.

“Looks like…a ticket?  Wait no…”

Ace of Hearts

“Why do we have to have such big hearts?”

This is the question Kate asked me Tuesday night as we embarked on what became a fool’s errand.  It was a cold day, and I was just leaving work.  The traffic from the West was heavy, but a simple turn to the East had my trip home going a lot more quickly.  I came upon an intersection that provided a merge lane, and in between the old intersection and the merge lane was a traffic island, one I’d driven by hundreds of times.  This time it was different.  There was a black and white cat lying in the middle of it.  The cat wasn’t moving, but it also wasn’t mangled.  It didn’t move, but it didn’t look dead.  The thought crossed my mind that it was nearly frozen, and was on death’s door.  A recent article I’d found in the Brookings paper told the story of a cat that was literally chipped out of a puddle of ice, still alive.  That cat actually survived and was adopted by a new family, one who hopefully wouldn’t let something like that happen to it again.  As I drove the wife’s car home, that story kept going through my mind.  Also going through my mind were several other things.

Why didn’t I stop?

What if he’s still alive?

What kind of person am I to just leave it?

I didn’t even stop.

What a horrible way to die.

These thoughts were a constant loop as I slowed down to turn onto 4th Street.  As I slowed for the stop signs on the way to my turn, those thoughts only got louder and louder.  As I pulled into the garage, I was starting to rationalize.

He’s probably dead…he wasn’t moving.

I had cars behind me on a busy street and nowhere to park.

If he’s alive, he might be feral, or rabid.

What if he has fleas and infects our cats?

Those thoughts kept getting shouted down by the first thoughts I’d had as I drove home on a night that promised to dip well below zero.  I was composed for the most part as I walked into the house, and saw my smiling wife holding our son.  Then I looked down and saw Logan.  Our big orange cat looked up at me and meowed.  As I sat my backpack down, he started rubbing against my legs.  He’s probably our dumbest cat, but he’s very good around strangers and is almost always in the mood for affection.  Kate could tell right away something was bothering me, like any good wife would.  She asked what was wrong, and I told her about the cat and how much it was bothering me.  She really didn’t want to hear it, because, like me, she has soft spot for cats.  No matter what we’re talking about on any given road trip, if we spot a dead cat on the road the same thing happens.  The conversation ends and we don’t say much for at least a mile.  Sometimes the somber mood lasts the rest of the trip.

Without promising anything, we left to make a quick trip to County Fair for milk and a few other groceries.  Kate’s mom (who stays with us three days a week) was making lasagna, and we were on a timetable to get home when it was ready.  The trip to the store had a lot of talk about the cat’s fate, and Kate kept hinting that all I would have to do is say the word and we’d go check on the cat, if we had time.  I tried to distract myself by browsing the cereal aisle, but it was only a fleeting distraction.  Once we checked out, Kate called to check on the status of supper, since the grocery store trip went faster than we expected.  It was on schedule, and to our surprise our wee one was down for an unexpected nap.  Suddenly we had the time to check on the cat, so we had to make a decision.

Kate and I are equally bad about decisions, and we frequently pass the decision-making buck.  I think the conversation from the parking lot to the intersection that led either to home or that traffic island went a bit like this (starting with Kate):

“So, do you want to go?”

“You’re right…the cat’s probably dead.”

“But do you want to go?”

“I do, but you’re probably right.  It’s too late.  Plus, you’re right about it being sick.”

“If you want to go I’ll go.”

“Nah, we should go home.”

“You want to go home then?”

“Well, no, but it sounds like the right thing to do.”

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH”

We pressed onward to check on the status of the downed feline.  All the way there she told me how bad I would feel if the cat was dead.  Really, she was talking about herself and how much she hates to see a cat who went before their time.  I insisted I’d feel better if the cat was dead.  While that sounds morbid, I was hoping for some relief that I hadn’t been a totally heartless bastard who left a cat that was alive abandoned in the cold.  I know it makes me sound selfish, and maybe emotionally I was being selfish.  However, as the night went on it became apparent that Kate may have been right after all.

We reached the traffic island, and the traffic at the intersection had calmed down.  Kate stopped the car, and I got out.  I walked towards the cat, and he didn’t move as I got closer.  I wanted to reach out for him, but I was afraid.  What if he bit me?  What if rigor had set in?  What if I frighten him and he runs into traffic? I stopped about six inches away from the cat and crouched in a catcher’s squat inches away from him.  The cat’s eyes were closed, and his front right leg was extended with his left paw covered up by his right leg.  His back legs were curled up behind him, but not very well.  I could see the spots in the snow where he was frozen into the ground.  I just kept watching, hoping to see a small rise and fall of his back to know he was breathing.  I didn’t see that sign.  I halfway reached out to pick it up, but I just couldn’t bring myself to touch it.  Part of it was fear, and part of it was the fact I’d never held a dead cat.  I’d read stories, blogs, and accounts of people having their own cats put down due to age or disease, and how they held them as they went to sleep one last time.  One of our cats is in double digits, so the thought of someday having to go through that myself kept me from picking him up.  I grabbed a chunk of ice and tossed it at the cat.  It bounced off into the evening as Kate rolled down her window.  “It’s dead.  We’ve done all we can.”

The drive home was a long and painful one.  Kate felt awful, and I didn’t feel the relief I was expecting, even though I kept telling her I was happy to know I couldn’t have done anything.  As the night went on, my mind kept going back to the cat.  I was just starting to realize that while I can tell myself there was nothing I could do, those feelings wouldn’t bring back a cat that may have been somebody else’s Logan.  My frustration turned into a crabby attitude for the night, and that included being annoyed with Logan’s continued attempts to rest on my head.  Logan often likes to sleep on my pillow, but that night he was taking up more space and he was trying to wrap his paws around my head.  I kept moving him, and occasionally sternly telling him to get lost, or words that communicated that intention.  This became my second tragic misstep of the night.  I’d wrapped myself up in a shroud of anger and sadness, and I wasn’t letting in the one cat that could sense it.  No matter when or why Kate and I get in a bad mood, Logan pops up.  It’s like he can sense it, and he tries to make it better by purring and snuggling.  I wasn’t the mood that night, and unfortunately Logan bore the brunt of my frustration and disheartenment.  The next day Kate revealed I’d not only woken her up complaining about Logan, but that I was a “total asshole” to him.  She was probably right about that, but the kicker is that Logan didn’t seem to care.  I apologized to him, and I stroked the fur on his back until he was purring for me like nothing had ever happened.  The next night, he was back on my pillow, but he left plenty of room for my head.

I’ll never know if that frozen cat was anyone’s Logan.  Even if he was a stray, he didn’t deserve to die alone on a traffic island.  Getting back to the quote at the beginning, it’s something Kate says every time we feel bad about a stray we can’t help, a dead cat left on the road, or any time we visit a shelter and see rooms full of cat cages, each sticking out their tiny paws in hopes of finding a new companion (seriously, if you ever want to see me cry, take me to an animal shelter’s cat room).    My heart went cold for Logan for a night, but Logan never holds a grudge.  He just knew I was torn up inside, and he tried to help, even when I pushed him away.  Logan may not be the smartest cat in the world, but he reminded me that having a big heart is a 24/7 thing, and not something that should be switched off.   Kate and I might fancy ourselves the king and queen of hearts in this tale (or, at least we try to be), but Logan is our Ace of Hearts.

Two of Hearts

Two Island Lake: Part One of Four

“Don’t forget to look before you cast.”  Hannah didn’t want to let her father down, so she looked all around.  Other than her father, there was no one around.  She flung her arm forward as hard as she could.  She saw the red daredevil fly into the lake, and disappear with a slight splash that she could hear just above the wind.  She started reeling in her cast, but once it was back she was empty handed.  “Don’t give up.  You never catch anything with the first cast of the day.”

“I know daddy” she said.  “One day I will.”  She looked out into the lake as she flung the lure back into the waters.  “Are we ever bringing the boat here?”

“Probably not.  The boat landing here isn’t in very good shape.  That and I hate hauling the trailer on these gravel roads.  We can do all our boat fishing on Roy Lake.  Two Island Lake is traditionally a casting lake.”

“What’s on the islands daddy?”  Hannah asked.  Her father didn’t answer right away.  He just shrugged.  “You don’t know?”

“I don’t know anyone who’s bothered to check.  There are all kinds of small islands on lakes.  This is just a small lake that has two small islands.  Unusual, but I’m more interested in fish than exploring some islands no bigger than the Super Valu, if that.”

“Someday I’ll find out” Hannah said.  She flung her daredevil back into the lake.  From her point of view on the shoreline, it landed between the two islands.

***

“Miss Heart, you have a few late books.”  The librarian sternly looked at Hannah, who kept a smile on her face as she dug in her purse.

“Sorry Maxine.  It won’t happen again.”  She pulled a few dollars out of her purse and smiled at Maxine.  She didn’t offer a grandiose smile, but one that tried to convey innocence and a twinge of regret.  Maxine shook her head and plucked one of the dollar bills away from Hannah.

“Close enough.  Don’t let it happen again.”  Hannah nodded and was soon out the door.  It was a beautiful late April afternoon in Sisseton.  She was walking towards her car when a black Oldsmobile shot in front of her.  She had time to check her reflection in the window tint.  Her red hair was still snugly pulled back, and her white t-shirt and pink sweater were free from cat hair, at least until she got home.  She put a hand on her hip as the window rolled down.

“Corey Club, what are you doing here?  Does the coach know you’re skipping practice?”

“What he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.  He’s the one who took off on a last minute trip to Watertown.  Besides, I have some great news.”

“You’re over your fear of flying so you can take a flying leap?”  Hannah looked around and then back at Corey.  His black hair was messy, and he was still wearing his old summer rec coach t-shirt that he’d been wearing since yesterday.

“If I take a flying leap, you’ll miss on your chance to take my dad’s boat out.”

“Shut up!  Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.  Your boating wish is my command.  I’ve been helping him recondition it, and since I’ve been on my best behaviour he’s willing to let me take it out as long as I’m caught up on school and chores, of which I am at the moment.  But, if you don’t want to go t-”  Corey found himself suddenly face to face with Hannah, who was right in his face to the point she had almost climbed in his car.

“Pick me up in ten minutes.  Don’t be late.”

***

Hannah sat in the front of the boat, and she seemed like a different person.  She even looked different.  She had traded her pretty sweater and skirt for blue jeans and a ratty old denim shirt.  Her red pony tail was spilling out of the back of her red cap, and her sunglasses were rather small and uncool in this day and age.  Corey was wearing what he had on when he had found her at the library roughly an hour ago.  He looked back at the landing, and saw his dad’s shiny black 4 x 4 getting smaller as the outboard pushed them out into Two Island Lake.  “Which one?”  Corey yelled out.

“What do you mean?”  Hannah shouted back.

“We need to pick which one you want to go to.  I only have enough time to spare with the boat to probably hit one of the islands, unless you’re a faster explorer than I’m aware of.”

“The South one” Hannah said, pointing at the island that was dead ahead.  Corey gunned the outboard motor, and in less than a minute they were coasting into the high grass of the island.

“Are you sure this is safe?  Has anyone ever been out here?”

“I’m sure they have, but nobody seems to want to admit it.  I must have checked out every book that even mentioned this lake.  Granted, there weren’t many.”

“What did they say about them?”

“Nothing” Hannah said as she looked back to the spot her dad had taken her fishing at so long ago.  “Other than whoever named this wasn’t very original.”

“I’m sure they just wanted to be specific.  The two islands are a pretty predominant feature of this little lake.”

“They sure are.  Should we claim it for the Redmen?”

“If a good pitcher lives here.  We could use a few more this summer on the Legion team.”  Corey looked all around, and other than the gravel road and a few distant farms they seemed alone in the world.

“I love this island.  I wish we had time to check it out more.  I feel really at peace here.”

Corey shook his head and smiled.  He glanced all around again.  His eyes caught the other island.  Without warning, he felt a cold chill creep up his spine.  For an instant, he could have sworn he was being watched.  No.  He was being stared at, by something on the other island.  He couldn’t move.  The hair on his arms and back was starting to rise.  He felt his stomach knot up and a bit of bile creep into his esophagus.  A presence was nearby.  It was so close it could touch him.  He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he let out a scream that echoed all around.  He looked back at the island he was on, and only Hannah was looking at him.  “Wha…what?”  He stammered as his hand shook slightly.

“Are you okay?  I’ve been all over this island.  There’s nothing here but old bird nests and some washed up beer cans.  What have you been doing?”

“Doing?”

“I’ve been gone for fifteen minutes.  Are you sure you’re okay?  You look really pale.”

“I’m fine.  Just…I got a bad vibe from the other island.  That’s all.”

“That must have been one hell of a bad vibe.  C’mon.  Let’s get going.  I want to hit Taco Johns while Dez is still working.  She upsizes our oles for free.”  Hannah walked past him and started getting the boat turned around in the water.

“Yeah…yeah” Corey said.  He glanced back at the other island, but the feeling had past.  He turned and walked to the boat, all the while trying to ignore the fact he still felt like he was being watched.

[Two Island Lake continues on the next deuce]