The Purse

“I think you should just take me to my mothers.” Caroline could not prevent the quiver in her voice nor could she stop he brown eyes from tearing up. A single tear runs down her face only to get caught at the corner of her mouth.

“I’m taking you home honey, we are going to get through this. Alright?” Taking his right hand off the steering wheel he reaches for her only to find dead air. There was a time when her entire body would have gravitated toward that hand as it reached out, that time is not now.

Almost in a whisper she say to him “He took my purse Jim.”

“It’s fine, I’ll take care of it. You won’t have to do a thing. I’ll cancel all the cards in the morning, put a hold on our checking account and buy you a new purse. You may have to go to the DMV to get a replacement for your drivers license though. I really should have asked them about that at the police station. Anyway, that can wait a day or two.”

“I want to go to my mothers.” This she does whisper as she leans her head on the car’s window, pulling her long legs to her chest she wraps her delicate arms around them, locking her hands. Watching the streets as the car silently moves closer to home and further from her mother’s home. The one place she believes would grant her the safety and security she must have in order to survive the night.

“What honey? Come on, what did you say? Caroline? I want to know.” These words are said with the patience of a man scolding a five year old child for mumbling.

“He could have hurt me, I mean really hurt me. I was so frightened.” This time there is no stopping the flood of tears from exploding down her face. Suddenly every muscle in her body is shaking, as if she were the epicenter of an earthquake.

“Oh, baby, everything is alright now. He did not hurt you. Lucky for us that patrol car came by when it did, yes terribly lucky for us. Come on now, stop crying. You‘re with me now, you‘re safe.” This time his hand reaches her elbow, resting there as if waiting for some secret signal to continue.

Shifting her position in the passenger seat, his hand returns to the wheel. “He knows where we live. I would feel better if we went to my mothers, please take me to mothers.” Instinctively this is said with power and purpose. Her please comes out more as a now.

Waiting for the light to change to green, he turns to her. Seeing his wife, perhaps for the first time that night. The beginnings of a black eye, her face from cheekbone to forehead is swollen , appearing blue in the dark car. Without uttering a word her eyes speak to him. Telling him all he does not want to know, all he chooses to ignore.

“I don’t like sleeping at your mothers. Why don’t I find us a nice hotel for the night. Everything will look different in the morning?”

“Everything already is different. Take me to my mothers, then you can go home.”

Easier said than done.

She slowly walks now, she feels as if her body has stopped any forward momentum. Leaving behind that short, well rounded, which is to say slightly overweight, woman and moving toward the end. She wonders if she is having an “out of body” experience. The thought makes her smile. Staring straight ahead her essence continues, moving away from that woman, in slow motion, continuing down the street.

Occasionally she hears things, distractions really, sometimes distractions can be good. The sound of a car door slamming, perhaps a bird singing on a lovely spring day. She suddenly knows, without a doubt, if she were to turn her head to the right she would see a baby crying.

He always wanted a baby. This thought does not produce a smile. Three years since he died. Three years of absolutely nothing productive. She needs this, for her, for his memory. Twelve years ago today they met, exactly like this. Well, not exactly, then she was young and full of life. This, finishing this will help her, somehow, she just knows it will.

Hot, so incredibly hot. She should look for a nice pub, somewhere with air-conditioning and good beer. Wouldn’t that be nice, to sit back and drink a nice cold one? “Later.” she promises her taste buds, we need to finish this first.

The water is good, pure, refreshing. Never in her life has anything tasted, or felt, so right, so perfect. She has no idea where the water came from. The water would feel good on her head, to just have it pouring down and through her short red curls, and engulfing her sweat drenched back would be heaven. And it is.

Picking up some speed now, close to the end, too close not to give it one last push. He would say “time to turn on the afterburners.” The body is screaming now, begging for relief, yet her mind refuses to budge. There is no better feeling than overcoming something, finding the strength and power from somewhere deep inside to keep moving.

Her feet are still moving. All she has to do is look down and know that her feet are still moving, doing exactly as she commands. The feet still move while the rest of her body, from her little blue eyes to her cute pink toenails, all else, wants to stop.

Push, push, push. The finish line is now in sight. Just a few steps more and the rest of her life can begin, finally.

And it begins... I hope!

This is for a class, and a grade, so please feel free to tell me what you think:

Its not that anyone was listening, she simply could not resist talking. “Spinach, sprouts, other green stuff, cranberries, pears, some almond shavings, sprinkle of goat cheese, with dressing on the side. Raspberry Balsamic vinaigrette, if you please. This my friends, neighbors and fortunate co-workers of mine, is how you make the perfect salad.” This last part being said as Laurence’s pudgy hips gently nudge her out of the way of the salad station with the single mindedness of a four year old getting into his sandbox.

Laurence the lion, king of the weeds. Jolene wonders, and not for the first time, how he ever made it into law school. Then again, the West Georgia School of Law didn’t exactly have a reputation for a stringent admittance policy. “Money goes in, lawyers come out.” That’s what the locals thought of the school. Not being a local, and having recently received a full scholarship, Jolene still allowed herself to hope for better.

Laurence may not have been the most studious of pre-attorneys, nor did he have a talent for “this whole business of bringing people food and drink“, as he often called it, but he had a kind and generous heart. His parents owned Coeurs et Fromage, and insisted that he work in the restaurant every weekend. If only Jolene’s parents had pushed her towards that type of responsibility, pushed her towards anything at his age... If only, if only.

No time for that now.

“Look out, watch it there, perfect salad coming through!”

Three hours later the restaurant is transformed from a bustling place filled with the smell of garlic and the laugh of good drink into something more akin to an apple orchard, at night and with a full moon. There is still the gentle fragrance of good times and better food lingering, yet quiet, dark and sanitized. Jolene sits at the bar with Javier, the dish washer, Laurence and his mother, Michelle, counting money, cursing the economy and trying to stay awake.

Michelle only hangs out at the bar after she and Javier are finished with the dishes and obligatory kitchen cleaning. Javier downs the last of his beer, a treat for those who work until the doors are locked, rinses his glass at the bar sink and puts his jacket on.

“Come on Dorothy, I walk you to your car.” he says as he places his keys on the bar.

Jolene can’t help but laugh, Javier has called her Dorothy since the first night they worked together. “My car is in the shop, again, Mr. Tin Man.”

4840 Miles

Is one hell of a long distance argument. Man, that sucks!

Tomorrow is another day.

Home from Helen, GA

It was wonderful seeing Richard, Denny, Zonker, Georgia, Rick, Kelly, the Senior Chief, Dax, Velociman, Key, little Key, RSM, Eric, the better half of Eric, Charles, and they guys at Auto Zone!

Now a few quotes, not necessarily in chronilogicle order:

"Stump!", "A good goat will do that", "CSI Helen", "Keep your change", "it's just 1/2 a mile", "WTF", "You came back", and "What religion are you?"

One thing that should have been said, and yet was not:
Richard is many a splendid things, mechanic is not one of those things!

So, many thanks to all for not hanging me from a tree for being a: comunist; marxist; left wing fanatic; socialist; democrat; and for still drinking with me! Can't wait to do it again.

Tired, tired and a weeee bit sad.

So, it appears as if all of my "excitement and fun" is over for a few days. I can not even begin to tell you of all that has happened in the past 7 days..... but, I can let you see a picture or two.Honestly, did you think that I was joking about the ladies dancing in cages? No, it happened, it was there, it was wonderful.

The Eldest tried to get his revenge for not being cast. Luckily security arrived and escorted him from the building before the house was open.

Yes, I know, amazing, simply amazing!

These old guys were pretty gosh darn good too.

All in all, a very nice production. It makes all the difference in the world having an amazing technical staff and actors that know their craft! If you happened to miss it, try to make the show next time. I work very hard to make it worth the while.

Now, lets see what the Youngest was up to this weekend:



It seems as though his confidence has been restored this season! Turning into quite a good goal keeper. Did I tell you he is now running cross country just to improve his soccer skills? Well, he is.

Tomorrow we have a wrestling match, a cross country meet and a soccer game. I guess the Daughter could not find a horse show to attend as well, just to make it more fun finding gas!

I saw JJ off this afternoon and walked tiredly back to the car. The visit was very fruitful, new sink, new bathroom counter (almost complete), new shelving, yes quite the handy man he is. Best of all, I am now wearing a piece of clothing that once belonged to his great grandmother, how cool is that? Yet, I would trade all of these things to be next to him right now...