Psolitude

A writing prompt: Start the story with the following sentence: She closed the book, placed it on the table, and finally decided to walk through the door.

She closed the book, placed it on the table, and finally decided to walk through the door.The music swelled as she slipped into the back row.

Some of the signatures in the book had been easier to read than others: her sister’s, her mother’s. What would they say to her now? Had it really been five years since she stormed out of the house with her backpack and suitcase, screaming at her father, “I hate you; I’ll never set foot in this house again.” Hateful, hurtful words. James had been waiting and they drove for two days to lengthen the distance from her disapproving family. 

“You’re too young Kelly; you’re only 18,” her father said. “Plus he’s a hoodlum, just like his old man.”

He had been right, of course. Jailed twice for theft and DUI, James had been undependable.

“I feel trapped in this apartment, in this relationship,” he said, leaving her after the first year with only a few possessions and substantial debt. But she didn’t have the courage to go home, so she got a second job and applied for financial aid to enroll in the local community college.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.”

She opened her purse and pulled out the torn newspaper clipping she’d received in the mail. Her sister wrote, “Come Home. Miss You” at the top. She had no idea how her sister knew where to find her. 

“I miss you too, sis,” she whispered.

“For thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”

She worked tirelessly to be a good employee at her two jobs and a good student at school. It had all paid off; she finally completed all of the requirements and passed the Certified Medical Assistant exam. During that time she bonded with one classmate who became a special friend. David listened to her story, dried her tears, kept her positive, and encouraged her to return home.

“Mend the bridge Kelly,” he said. “Before it’s too late.”

But it was too late.

It took the handwritten note from her sister to give her the courage to be there today. She had waited until all the guests entered the building before she walked into the vestibule. She stood listening to the murmuring of people inside the chapel before she approached the memory table and the book.

The pictures tore at her heart. Laughing pictures, family pictures, pictures of her and her father.

Now from her seat at the back of the room she could see the bowed heads of her mother and sister, and the casket, stately displayed, covered with flowers. Would she be able to tell them how sorry she was that she hadn’t been there these last five years? Hadn’t been there when her father passed away. Hadn’t been there to tell him she really did love him.

"Surely goodness and loving kindness will follow me all the days of my life."

 Not for me, Kelly thought. I don’t deserve any goodness or loving kindness.

When the service concluded, the first row of family was escorted down the aisle. Kelly held her breath and studied her mother as she walked past, unseeing. The look of unmistakable sadness and loss was palpable, and tears coursed down Kelly’s cheeks. Her sister followed behind, her eyes darting from one side of the aisle to the other, then resting on Kelly. A brilliant smile lit her face as she rushed to embrace her. 

“I knew you‘d come.”

Bella and Her Person

Ann’s Galumping Prompt:
 Make up a story using the following sentences:

The top shelf in the corner kitchen cabinet, the one that’s hard to reach.

A small, glitter-covered, red and yellow bird

A blank check mistakenly thrown into the trash. 

A step ladder with no third step.

Bella licked her paw and feigned indifference to the goings on in the kitchen. Her person was spring cleaning, and not paying the least bit of attention to the pink and white ceramic food dish that sat on the floor empty.

“Meow, now,” she tried again.

Her person turned, balancing on the top of a step ladder with no third step. She was cleaning out the top shelf of the corner kitchen cabinet, the one that was hard to reach.

“Just a minute, Bella. Can’t you see I’m busy? I don’t want to fall off this worthless piece of.. .  never mind, here I come.”

After her person filled the food dish, she opened the cabinet under the sink to toss the empty can into the garbage.

“Oh no, did I do that again?” she said pulling out a piece of paper from the garbage, whacking her head with the heel of her hand.

Bella looked up, licking the remnants of tuna treat off her whiskers. That’s the second time this month she’s mistakenly thrown a blank check into the trash. No skin off my nose as long as she keeps a roof over my head and the cat food coming.

She moved to the family room to complete her post-postprandial bath, just far enough away for privacy, but close enough to keep an eye on her person. She was tottering on that step ladder again, reaching into the depths of the top cabinet.

Out of the corner of her kitty eye she saw her person produce a small glitter-covered red and yellow bird.

“Oh, look at this, Bella. It was my Aunt Beth’s,” she said stepping down and missing the third step, tumbling to the floor.

The red and yellow bird flew across the room landing several feet away.

This is more like it, thought Bella assuming the pounce position. Now you have my attention.

A Story from Ann's Plotting Challenge

Plotting Challenge:
Here are some basic facts about Loretta.  She is 49.  She is left-handed.  She lives Taos, New Mexico.  Her favorite color is red.  She wears wedgie sandals, of a style she discovered in 1978, when she ordered a dozen pairs.  She works as a part-time librarian and Home Health Aide.  She has a two bedroom bungalow with a mortgage she can barely afford.  She lives alone.  One of her eyes is glass.
Give Loretta a plot.  Conflict?  Struggle?  Resolution?

LYNETTE TO LORETTA

She replayed the message Myron left on her phone. “There was a fire at the jail complex, and in the all the ruckus he escaped, Loretta. You need to be on high alert.”

She threw down the phone and sank into the red upholstered chair beside it. Now what was she going to do.  Her contact from the Witness Protection Program was her only connection to her past life. She’d made sure to erase anything that could trace her to Taos, New Mexico.  She had even changed careers, dyed her hair, and wore glasses, even though she didn’t need them. 

 She took off the red framed glasses and rubbed her left eye, remembering why it was not her own – why she now had a glass eye. He’d almost killed her that night. She’d discovered his connection to the drug cartel when she overheard a conversation on the phone. She had picked up the extension in her apartment bedroom at the same time he answered the phone in the living room and had listened long enough to hear the delivery date for a shipment of cocaine and the plan for a murder. 

She had tried to act nonchalant, but her boyfriend, Demetri, had heard the click when she hung up the extension and had confronted her. That’s when the violence began. He had beaten her to within an inch of her life and left her to die. When she hadn’t shown up for work at the County Library the next day, her friend Mona had come to her apartment, found her, and called 911.

She had found out later that the police had been following Demetri for the last year and were now hoping to talk to her. They stationed a guard outside her hospital room while she underwent several surgeries to repair the damage to her face. She’d lost her left eye and now had a metal plate in her head, but would recover.  She gave the police all the information she heard, which put Demetri behind bars. It would cost her the life she currently lived, but with no family and at the age of 48, she was fine with it. Lynette disappeared into the Witness Protection Program and became Loretta. 

In Taos, she bought a small two bedroom bungalow and began training as a Home Health Aid.  She worked at the local library on the weekends, just because it was her first love. Money was tight but she was getting used to the new arrangement. Her only regret was leaving behind her best friend Mona without an explanation

.

Now a year later, she had a job as a Home Health Aid for an adult foster home and was settled in, but she never let her guard down. She picked up the phone to return Myron’s call. 

“H..h..hello.”  The woman was crying. “Who, who is this?”

“Ah, I’m calling for Myron,” she answered, stunned that someone had access to his private phone. 

“You’re too late. He’s dead,” the woman wailed.

Myron was her only contact. It would now be up to her to protect herself. She tried not to panic. She was resourceful, she was a quick thinker. She had to figure it out. Should she go to the police here? No, there was no one to confirm her identity or her predicament.

Loretta was scheduled to work the Friday evening shift, so she dressed in her usual red scrubs and red wedgie sandals . This was the last pair of a dozen she had bought thirty some years ago, the only thing she brought with her to Taos from her past. That and the can of Bear Spray that Myron had given her.

Her assignment that evening was Miss Ellen, a 92 year-old sweet lady who was wheelchair-bound and attached to an oxygen tank. Miss Ellen’s handsome son Robert came to visit her every evening.

“You know Loretta, my Robert is a widower and has a good job and a nice car. He’s only 55 and he should get married again. Maybe you’d like to have coffee with him.”

“Thank you Miss Ellen, but I’m not ready for any attachments right now,” she said, blushing as she looked up to see Robert at the door.

“We’ll have to see about that. Perhaps dinner tomorrow?”  Robert said giving her a friendly smile.

“She’d love to,” said Miss Ellen, “wouldn’t you dear. The Cozy Corner would be perfect. She’ll meet you there at 6 p.m.”

“Ah, well, okay then,” Loretta responded. She did think he was handsome and their brief conversations over the past several months had been pleasant.

But all evening Loretta was distracted, worrying about her problem. She knew she didn’t want a gun. After her surgery she had suddenly become left handed and was not as adept with it as she had been as a right-hander. She’d have to make room in her big bulky purse for the Bear Spray. It would now accompany her everywhere. Just in case.

Saturday morning she dressed a pair of red slacks and a red floral blouse. She fumbled with the strap of the red wedgie and cursed her clumsy left-handedness. Checking herself in the mirror she straightened her hairdo, gave it one more shot of hairspray, and grabbed her heavy purse, ready for work.

It was a quiet morning at the library. There were several students at the computers and a dozen patrons wandering the aisles. She was manning the check-out desk, when a man approached and tossed a note on the counter.

“MEET ME OUTSIDE NOW” was printed in bold letters.

She looked up into Demetri's eyes.  He grinned maliciously, opening his jacket to show the gun in his hand. He jerked his head towards the side door.

She couldn’t believe how fast he’d found her. Poor Myron.  Shaking, she grabbed her purse from under the counter and headed for the door. Once out the door, she slipped one hand inside her purse and grabbed the can of Bear Spray. She spun towards him and squirted it in his face. He dropped the gun, screamed in agony and fell to the ground. 

He writhed on the ground trying to wipe the dripping foam from his eyes with one hand, and groped for his gun with the other. She kicked it as far away as she could with her toe-less red sandal. The side door had locked when they exited, so she sprinted to the front door to call the police.

When she was assured they were on their way, she ran back to the front door just in time to see Demetri get into a black Ford Mustang and drive haphazardly through the parking lot. He gunned the engine when he got to the street and moments later she heard a loud crash and saw flames shoot towards the sky.

By the time the police and fire department arrived, the car was totally engulfed in flames. After she had given them her statement, they told her the man at the wheel had died. 

Free. She was free.

Loretta took the rest of the day off and headed towards the downtown mall. A new slinky red dress and some spiked red heels were on the shopping list for her date tonight. The red wedgies were going in the garbage - the last symbol of her old life.

The Old Mill Flashback

As a crow flies, it might be a five minute bike-flight to the Old Mill from their cottage. But Nate figured it would probably take at least twice as long to get there on the ground. You had to follow Hillside Road past his cottage, then make a left onto Mountain Road and stay on that road for a while. He’d only been by the turn off for the Old Mill in the car when his father was driving. 

He overheard his older brothers talking about riding their bikes there when he came into the barn to put air in his tires.

“Can I come too?” he asked.

“Nope, you’re too little and it’s too far,” they'd told him. 

But he followed them anyway.  Nate peddled as fast as his legs would go to keep close enough to hear them, but far enough back that they couldn’t see him. They always left him out; he’d just turned eight and they weren’t that much older at eleven and twelve. 

Trees rose from the ground on both sides of the road, one after another, only inches from the pavement, and formed a canopy over-head so thick the sky was blocked from view. Nate wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and wished he’d brought his water bottle. 

When Nate rounded the next bend, he saw them turn onto a gravel road. Stopping his bike, he glanced around, taking a deep breath and stepping from one foot to the other. This was the farthest he’d ridden from the cottage and all he could see in every direction were trees. 

He turned down the gravel road hoping they hadn’t gotten too far ahead. The Old Mill came into view after a few minutes and as he got closer, he saw their bikes leaning against the building by a set of double doors that were ajar.

The old building looked like it was ready to fall down. It listed to one side, rustic old boards and wood chips littered the ground around it, and the two windows he could see had no glass. 

Leaving his bike by the water wheel he crept forward and cautiously peeked inside the doors.

“Hey, what’re you doin’ here?” Chris said, spotting him. “You weren’t suppos’ ta follow us.”

“I ’m old ‘nuff,” he replied, lifting his chin a notch higher.

“Hey Chris, maybe he wants to see the kittens we found in the back room,” Sam said, elbowing him.

“Oh, yeah. Nate, there’s some kittens back here. Come and see,” Chris said giggling as he led Nate to the small room at the back of the building.

Nate stepped into the storage room and his brothers slammed the door and locked it.

“That’ll teach ya’ to follow us.”

“Hey, lemme’ out,” Nate said banging on the door.

He could hear them laughing. “We’re leavin’ now. Bye.”

He looked around the small room. There were no kittens. He saw a window, but it was too high for him to reach. Nate sat down and tried not to cry, but it was no use. Big fat tears slid down his cheeks and he gulped great breaths of air as he looked around and tried to think of a way out.  Surely they would come back for him.

Hugging his legs to his chest, he put his head down on his knees.  Then he heard her.

“Look around you. See the boxes. If you stack them, you could reach the window.”

He looked around. There was no one there. But Nate closed his eyes tightly and in his mind he could see her. Long dark hair pulled back with a ribbon, about his age, in a long blue dress with ruffles at the sleeves. The same girl that had helped him when he fell out of the apple tree and broke his leg. She had sat with him then until his grandfather found him. He couldn’t see her, but had felt her presence beside him. Just like now.

He stood and pushed the wooden boxes next to the window, then stacked them one on top of the other. He’d stopped crying, but was shaking as he moved two more boxes next to the three, then another box beside that, making stairs to the window. He rubbed his leg before he started climbing. 

Balancing on the top box, he could reach the window sill. He found a smooth place and pulled himself up, climbing with his feet on the wall, got one leg over the sill and brought himself up to a straddle position. There was no other way than to fall to the ground outside. Nate gave a shove and pushed himself away from the wall, falling on his backside in the wood chips below.

“You still there, girl” he said out loud, brushing the chips off his legs. “Hey? Girl? Well, thanks.”

There was no answer. 

He ran to where he had left his bike.  He’d been afraid they would hide it from him and then he’d have to walk all the way home, but it was still there.

Nate peddled as fast as he could to the end of the gravel road, then screeched to a stop. Which way should he go? He was turned around. He looked at the ground and saw the bicycle tracks heading left, so he turned in that direction and rode like the wind. It seemed to take forever, but he finally saw the turnoff from Mountain Road to Hillside Drive and home. 

Boy, were his brothers ever going to get into trouble for this. Nate grinned as he went in search of his mother.

25th Anniversary Dinner at the Side Door Cafe in Gleneden Beach

 “Happy 25^th Anniversary” written in blue and yellow chalk adorns the sidewalk outside the entrance to the Side Door Café in Gleneden Beach. I called ahead for reservations and mentioned we were celebrating this special event. Inside, our table is decorated with red rose petals and a twisted red streamer down the center. That’s just the start to our delightful celebratory evening.

A refurbished tile-production warehouse is the home of this exceptional café, just off the beaten track of Highway 101. From the booths and tables situated around the room, you can see a large window at the front of the restaurant and a cozy lit fireplace to the side. The high, dark, exposed beams at the ceiling along with the mahogany-colored walls give the interior a rich elegant feeling. Hanging plants drape the sides of the booths and different colored pots of plants placed around the room add to the lush interior. 

Our waiter is friendly and eager to make our dinner a memorable one. He smiles at our delight in the chalked welcome at the entrance and the decorations at our table. Throughout the dinner he appears and disappears, as if by magic, taking care of our every whim.

The smell of freshly baked bread wafts through the room. As plates pass our table to their respective guests, the spicy rich aromas of the entrées tease our noses: Parmesean Encrusted Fresh Halibut atop Cappelini Pasta, Dungeness Crab Cakes on a bed of Sautéed Spinach in a pool of Tomato Saffron Broth, Fire Roasted Rack of Lamb with Summer Vegetable Risotto, Seafood Fettuccini tossed with Sherried Pesto Cream Sauce.

We have eaten at the Side Door Café several times before and know exactly what we want for our anniversary dinner. Honey Mustard and Herb Rubbed Local Chinook Salmon drizzled with Marionberry Glaze, accompanied by Fruited Wild Rice and Fresh Sautéed Seasonal Vegetables, a Caesar Salad to split, and a bottle of Cristom Pinot Noir (2007 vintage) completes our order.   

While we wait for our salad, we glance around the room. Even though it’s summer, the small fire gives off an intimate warm glow as if respecting the muted conversations and ambiance of the evening.

Our wine’s smoky cherry nose gives way to sweet spices of anise and cinnamon with a raspberry fruit follow through on the palette. The Caesar Salad is cold and crisp with a tangy pleasant bite to the dressing. The superb Salmon flakes easily and the Marion Berry sauce adds a wonderful sweet flavor to the hint of honey mustard coating. Fruited Wild Rice is an amazing accompaniment and soaks up some of the berry sauce. Sautéed vegetables of zucchini, onion, and carrots complete our dinner. 

We remember to save a little room for dessert, and choose to share the bread pudding with chocolate chips, which does not disappoint. Custardy bread pudding with chocolate chips layered throughout and a drizzle of chocolate syrup is a piece of heaven and a perfect way to end the evening.

Memories of the Neskowin Beach House

Neskowin Beach House 1962

I would stick my head out the window eager for the sweet smell of ocean air, squirming in my seat, barely under control, and ask for the umpteenth time, “Aren’t we there yet?” 

In the summer of 1958, we were on our way to the beach cabin for three weeks. My younger sister and brother and I, the oldest at ten, sat crammed together in the back seat of the Pontiac amid boxes, books, sacks of food, toys, blankets and other necessary items for our extended stay. 

The weather-worn beach cabin sat at the top of a sand ridge and from there you could hear the dull roar of the ocean and see its blue expanse, but not the waves themselves. A two-block flat section in front, filled with tall skinny stalks of lime-green pokey grass and purple-flowered stinging nettles, had to be trekked before you climbed over the last big dune to the glorious white sand beach and the ocean. We made clever paths around the plants, jumping from rock to sand to driftwood to avoid being poked or stung on our bare legs or feet.

The rugged wooden deck along the back of the cabin faced the road and a golf course across the street. The deck became a source of several major foot splinters, as we were always running and usually without shoes. Dad paid five cents for each golf ball we found and we would take our earned nickels and walk to the country store to buy penny candy from barrels lined up across the front of the counter. The store smelled of cinnamon, and the shiny wood floor felt cool and smooth on our rough bare feet.

“Will it be the licorice, the jaw breaker, or the peppermint today?” the grocer would ask.

The house had a living room with a hide-a-bed and fireplace, two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchen with an ancient stove that Dad had to light a fire in before Mom could make coffee or breakfast every morning. 

I slept on the hide-a bed in the living room, and one night a bat came down the chimney. I was terrified and hid under the covers while Dad killed it with a broom. The next morning we were amazed to see how far the paper-thin wings spread out and how scary it looked.

Mom would set out a 500-piece jig saw puzzle on a card table and we would add pieces to the picture, finishing it by the end of the vacation. At night we played Hearts or Gin Rummy, or read. Dad always took me to the school library to check out my favorite books, Sue Barton Student Nurse and the Nancy Drew Mysteries to read while I was there. 

The handsome horses from the stables at the end of the street attracted me like the flies around them. Dad would rent the one I picked out and lead us, usually two at a time, around the streets of the small town. When I turned twelve, I could ride the horses on the hour-long tail rides down on the beach and became inevitably smitten by the leader, usually a cute teen-aged boy.

This special time in my life exemplified complete carefree family time. We stayed and played together during trips to that magical cabin for the five years it owned us. In 1963, Dad sold the beach house to build a Sports Camp, and the rest of our summers growing up were spent working there. Ah, yet another memorable story for another time.

FIND A PENNY

FIND A PENNY AND PICK HER UP, THEN ALL THE DAY YOU'LL HAVE GOOD LUCK!!

Grandma  and Penelope Rose (Miss Penny)