Friday, October 29, 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
She's Baaaack!
MOST IMPORTANT DAY: III She avoided her parents eyes and walked into the building. But her lips were trembling.
She saw the sad face of her cousin Darlene. She walked over to her Aunt Jeanette.
"Debbie! Glad to see ya!"
"It's good to see you even though..."
"I know." Aunt Jeanette's eyes were full of tears.
"Uncle William!" Debbie exclaimed.
"It's good to see you, my niece!" He smiled through his tears. He came over and hugged her.
"It's good to see you, too," she giggled.
Was that her cousin Brigette, whom she had not seen in so long?
"You look...good," Debbie said, even though Brigette's face was red with crying. Her blond hair was pulled back in a French braid and pinned up. She looked as Canadian French as they all were.
Her sisters went into the smaller room. But she did not want to go, not yet. She went into the bathroom, where Sherri was blowing her nose.
"I just want it to be over," she started to cry.
"It's better when you go up and see her. She looks strong." Sherri consoled her and walked away.
Debbie stood outside the funeral home. She began to talk about New York, her job, although she did not know this man beside her. {Foreshadowing of Future Things...} {sic} And then, Liz came. Liz smiled in recognition of her friend's long-winded discussions about the trials of New York.
"I don't want to go in there. Do you?" she said to Liz.
"Yes," Liz insisted.
"I better go in before my father says, Why are you standing there?" Debbie mimicked her father's firm, authoritative tone.
They walked together to the flower-filled room; the bleeding hearts, pink carnations and white mums. There she rested, among the flowers, in a pink lace dress. They kneeled before her, studying the flowers.
"She looks...strong," Debbie held out her fist in a fighting gesture. The strength that was never apparent in the life of her delicate, petite Memere, now revealed itself. Every illness that came her way, she had conquered with her faith and determination. Now, it was time.
The priest came and said a few words to a roomful of softly closed eyes. The crowded room now grew quiet, except for the purring of the air conditioner. Debbie drifted in and out of his sermon.
"...The most important day of her life is not her birthday, or her wedding day, but today."
No, it's not. The most important day of my life will be the day I get married, Debbie thought to herself.
"...Today marks the beginning of a promise. The promise of eternal life..."
Debbie did not agree with him, but thought the sermon was beautiful none-the-less.
"I wanted you to go to lunch but it's just immediate family," she told Liz with tears in her eyes.
"I understand," Liz said. "I owe you a letter."
"Oh, you do, don't you?" Debbie tried to joke half-heartedly.
"Are they going to take her picture?"
Debbie's eyes widened. "N...No."
"Well, with all those elaborate flowers."
"Some people do that. I don't think they do here, I don't think they'd like that. Its OK for some people, but not me. It's just not my cup of tea." Debbie concluded, ending on a jovial note.
Liz smiled. "I mean, after everyone is gone."
What an odd custom. Why show a body after someone is gone?
MORE TOMORROW...Or I may make you wait until Monday!
She saw the sad face of her cousin Darlene. She walked over to her Aunt Jeanette.
"Debbie! Glad to see ya!"
"It's good to see you even though..."
"I know." Aunt Jeanette's eyes were full of tears.
"Uncle William!" Debbie exclaimed.
"It's good to see you, my niece!" He smiled through his tears. He came over and hugged her.
"It's good to see you, too," she giggled.
Was that her cousin Brigette, whom she had not seen in so long?
"You look...good," Debbie said, even though Brigette's face was red with crying. Her blond hair was pulled back in a French braid and pinned up. She looked as Canadian French as they all were.
Her sisters went into the smaller room. But she did not want to go, not yet. She went into the bathroom, where Sherri was blowing her nose.
"I just want it to be over," she started to cry.
"It's better when you go up and see her. She looks strong." Sherri consoled her and walked away.
Debbie stood outside the funeral home. She began to talk about New York, her job, although she did not know this man beside her. {Foreshadowing of Future Things...} {sic} And then, Liz came. Liz smiled in recognition of her friend's long-winded discussions about the trials of New York.
"I don't want to go in there. Do you?" she said to Liz.
"Yes," Liz insisted.
"I better go in before my father says, Why are you standing there?" Debbie mimicked her father's firm, authoritative tone.
They walked together to the flower-filled room; the bleeding hearts, pink carnations and white mums. There she rested, among the flowers, in a pink lace dress. They kneeled before her, studying the flowers.
"She looks...strong," Debbie held out her fist in a fighting gesture. The strength that was never apparent in the life of her delicate, petite Memere, now revealed itself. Every illness that came her way, she had conquered with her faith and determination. Now, it was time.
The priest came and said a few words to a roomful of softly closed eyes. The crowded room now grew quiet, except for the purring of the air conditioner. Debbie drifted in and out of his sermon.
"...The most important day of her life is not her birthday, or her wedding day, but today."
No, it's not. The most important day of my life will be the day I get married, Debbie thought to herself.
"...Today marks the beginning of a promise. The promise of eternal life..."
Debbie did not agree with him, but thought the sermon was beautiful none-the-less.
"I wanted you to go to lunch but it's just immediate family," she told Liz with tears in her eyes.
"I understand," Liz said. "I owe you a letter."
"Oh, you do, don't you?" Debbie tried to joke half-heartedly.
"Are they going to take her picture?"
Debbie's eyes widened. "N...No."
"Well, with all those elaborate flowers."
"Some people do that. I don't think they do here, I don't think they'd like that. Its OK for some people, but not me. It's just not my cup of tea." Debbie concluded, ending on a jovial note.
Liz smiled. "I mean, after everyone is gone."
What an odd custom. Why show a body after someone is gone?
MORE TOMORROW...Or I may make you wait until Monday!
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
CALL IT COINCIDENCE
I saw a strange omen just now, as I was sitting outside the New London Library. I don't dare to say what it is, but suffice it to say, History repeats itself...just as I write this. And all I have to say is, You haven't included me in the good times. Don't expect me to be there in your bad times.
NOT MUCH LONGER
Stay tuned for more as "Denise Takes on Her Family" tomorrow. As the rural reaches of New England's past of the volatile Debbie unravels, what will the present bring us? What does tomorrow hold? In the story? No, in real life. But, wait...aren't they the same thing?
Denise Takes on Her Fa-mi-leeee!
(It's about time.) They had avoided the 6:00 rush and the 7:00 stampede was only slight. They had gotten seats!
Debbie told Liz how her horoscope suggested she would be coming home this weekend, but she did not believe it, at the time. She wondered if Liz believed her.
Liz is coming up. I'm not going anywhere! she had said.
"I'm going to the cafe car. Want anything?"
Liz said no. She had her eyes closed sleepily, but it looked like she had been crying.
They got off the Boston bound train. The fresh air of the small New England port greeted them. She walked sadly alongside Liz, along the boat filled harbor, lugging her suitcase. They walked to Liz' car but Debbie's parents were right there!
"Ooh," she groaned as she climbed into her parents' car.
"When did you find out?" her father had asked her on the phone.
"About three o'clock."
"Where were you?"
"I tried to call an old friend. I called the office to get his number," Debbie explained on the phone while the car waited outside.
"Who told you? When did you call the office?"
"Daddy! The car is waiting outside to take me to Penn Station!"
"Where are you?"
"In Manhattan. Packing! I'll see you at ten o'clock."
"So I called Stash and he said, I'm coming down now!" she continued. Her parents looked at each other but did not say anything.
"I don't want to go," she said to her friend Amanda on the phone.
"But you have to," Amanda said. How like Amanda to say that. Amanda had lost her father four years ago, so she knew.
"Mom, I don't want to go."
"Neither do I. All those people I haven't seen in so long," her mother said. "Uncle William is crying. Darlene is hysterical."
And then came the phone calls. Her sisters, Nicole and Sherri and Kimberly, the youngest, their friends and her friends, who offered to attend the funeral.
"I would never expect this from a friend," Debbie said to Liz.
"Well, I remember how I felt when it was my father. Familiar faces helped."
Would I do the same for a friend? Debbie did not know the answer.
Nicole's boyfriend sat at the table.
"Did you meet Sean?" she asked.
"I think so," Debbie said.
"No," Sean said.
"Didn't we? Well, we're meeting now. Nice to meet you. Sorry it's under such unfortunate circumstances." She kept her voice under control. She paged through the newspaper. Her mother tried to sew a button on her father's shirt. When the needle did not catch the thread, she started to cry.
"Stupid thing," she said.
Debbie rode in the back seat of her sister's car. Sherri and Nicole sat in front. Kimberly, the youngest, had gone with their parents.
"They need to talk," Nicole said.
"Let's play Anita Baker," Sherri said.
"No. It's depressing. How about Jody Watley? Does anyone mind?"
The trees along the highway were green in the haze. Debbie's hair caught the breeze from both open windows.
"She was so happy when we saw her. She had just gotten a perm and it looked good. She was about to cry," Sherri said. "I went to see her all the time. Now, there's a gap."
They got out of the car. Green trees and misty meadows surrounded them. A rolling hill dropped gently down to a calm lake. An empty swingset stood on the bank. A raft floated quietly in the dark water. Debbie's stomach ached at this sight of pastoral beauty. The green earth, to which her grandmother's body would soon return.
Debbie told Liz how her horoscope suggested she would be coming home this weekend, but she did not believe it, at the time. She wondered if Liz believed her.
Liz is coming up. I'm not going anywhere! she had said.
"I'm going to the cafe car. Want anything?"
Liz said no. She had her eyes closed sleepily, but it looked like she had been crying.
They got off the Boston bound train. The fresh air of the small New England port greeted them. She walked sadly alongside Liz, along the boat filled harbor, lugging her suitcase. They walked to Liz' car but Debbie's parents were right there!
"Ooh," she groaned as she climbed into her parents' car.
"When did you find out?" her father had asked her on the phone.
"About three o'clock."
"Where were you?"
"I tried to call an old friend. I called the office to get his number," Debbie explained on the phone while the car waited outside.
"Who told you? When did you call the office?"
"Daddy! The car is waiting outside to take me to Penn Station!"
"Where are you?"
"In Manhattan. Packing! I'll see you at ten o'clock."
"So I called Stash and he said, I'm coming down now!" she continued. Her parents looked at each other but did not say anything.
"I don't want to go," she said to her friend Amanda on the phone.
"But you have to," Amanda said. How like Amanda to say that. Amanda had lost her father four years ago, so she knew.
"Mom, I don't want to go."
"Neither do I. All those people I haven't seen in so long," her mother said. "Uncle William is crying. Darlene is hysterical."
And then came the phone calls. Her sisters, Nicole and Sherri and Kimberly, the youngest, their friends and her friends, who offered to attend the funeral.
"I would never expect this from a friend," Debbie said to Liz.
"Well, I remember how I felt when it was my father. Familiar faces helped."
Would I do the same for a friend? Debbie did not know the answer.
Nicole's boyfriend sat at the table.
"Did you meet Sean?" she asked.
"I think so," Debbie said.
"No," Sean said.
"Didn't we? Well, we're meeting now. Nice to meet you. Sorry it's under such unfortunate circumstances." She kept her voice under control. She paged through the newspaper. Her mother tried to sew a button on her father's shirt. When the needle did not catch the thread, she started to cry.
"Stupid thing," she said.
Debbie rode in the back seat of her sister's car. Sherri and Nicole sat in front. Kimberly, the youngest, had gone with their parents.
"They need to talk," Nicole said.
"Let's play Anita Baker," Sherri said.
"No. It's depressing. How about Jody Watley? Does anyone mind?"
The trees along the highway were green in the haze. Debbie's hair caught the breeze from both open windows.
"She was so happy when we saw her. She had just gotten a perm and it looked good. She was about to cry," Sherri said. "I went to see her all the time. Now, there's a gap."
They got out of the car. Green trees and misty meadows surrounded them. A rolling hill dropped gently down to a calm lake. An empty swingset stood on the bank. A raft floated quietly in the dark water. Debbie's stomach ached at this sight of pastoral beauty. The green earth, to which her grandmother's body would soon return.
The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
He leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul:
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness
for His name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the
shadow of death,
I will fear no evil:
for thou art with me,
Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me
in the presence of mine enemies:
Thou annointest my head with oil;
my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy
Shall follow me all the days of my life:
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
(Psalm 23)
The Psalm instantly touched her. Can death be beautiful? she thought. Nobody would believe her, so she did not say it.
(The more things change; the more they remain the same!!!...* * * :)
Monday, October 25, 2010
There's More....!
Stay tuned as Debbie takes on her family in rural Connecticut and Rhode Island for the weekend back home to attend her maternal grandmother's funeral.
MOST IMPORTANT DAY Part II
19 hits on Friday! Thanx for coming back, everyone! "Sherri? What happened?"
"What did they tell you?"
"They said something about your grandmother. What happened?"
"She died. Last night," her sister finally told her.
"I visited her as much as I could. I couldn't stand to see her suffer."
"She looked good on Tuesday. She was so happy." Sherri said.
"I hated seeing her in a convalescent home. I hated watching her suffer. I'm glad I visited her."
"Do whatever you have to. Cry, if you need to." her boss told her.
Don't tell me when I can cry, Debbie wanted to say.
She looked at the box of Kleenexes.
"I have to go to the funeral. It's on Monday."
"Don't think about work. You get three days off. Now, what do you need to do? Gloria will call for a car to take you home. Can you find out the train schedule?" Her boss spoke rationally.
"Couldn't the car take me to Connecticut? Too expensive?" She looked her boss in the eye.
"Yes. You can put your train ticket on my card," her boss offered.
"Wait. My friend, Liz. She's downstairs in a restaurant. Which train should I take?"
"Now, you have to pack. How long will that take? Then, there is the traffic. Do you think it would be wise to make the 6:00?"
"I'll have to take the 7:00. They're unreserved. I don't need your card."
"Do you have money?"
"Yes. Thanks," she looked her boss squarely in the eyes.
"I'm gonna run out of here," she said.
"Hey!" Mike called out to her, but she passed him.
She ran into the restaurant.
"My grandmother died!" Her voice gave way as she told Liz and Dave. "Sorry to involve you in my tragedy."
"That's OK," they smiled in understanding. Their calmness was soothing.
"A car is coming to pick us up. We have to get on the 7:00 train. I have to make a phone call. I'll meet you back here."
The blond girl on the phone bragged about her partying.
"I have an emergency," Debbie said.
The girl hung up in annoyance.
"Gotta go. She's got an emergency," she said and walked off.
"The car will be here any minute. You're supposed to come down with the card?" Debbie, in her hurry, tried to be polite to the secretary.
"Meet me at the elevator bank," Gloria said.
She arrived in the elevator.
"I'm sorry! Are you alright?" she said.
"Yeah. I expected it."
"Well, she gave a lot of love and she lived a long and happy life," Gloria said, putting her arm around Debbie, although they had only met yesterday.
No....nooo! You don't even know her! Debbie wanted to say. But Gloria was only trying to comfort her.
"It's alright. She was 83." Debbie shrugged her arm off. Gloria was taken aback slightly.
"I'm just glad she's not suffering. My pain is over," she explained.
"I don't have parents so I don't have to go through that," Gloria confessed.
You don't? Debbie looked at her. "Life is full of pain," she said.
Gloria presented the card to the driver. Debbie went to find Liz and Dave.
"Tell everyone I'm alright. Not to worry about me. Don't tell anybody if they don't ask!" Debbie instructed Gloria.
Now she knew what it felt like, what to say. She had not known what to say to her friend Liz when her father had died last March.
"I can't believe it. You were looking forward to visiting me for so long," she said to Liz.
"It's OK. I can come another time," Liz said calmly. "I'll go to my mother's tonight."
"She'll be glad to see you."
She was so thankful when Liz respected her silence and then would chat with her when the mood came over her, in the car to her apartment, where she packed, on the train home, which she had always taken alone in the three years since she had moved to New York. To make it big someday, as a writer. Not to be a secretary forever.
"They charge twenty five cents for these postcards," Liz said from her seat behind Debbie.
"Those cheap bastards! They should pay us!" Debbie giggled, as she looked at the picture of the Astor Riviera Cafe, as she thought of the rude waiters in their tuxedos. Two guys looked up from their seats...
(Well, well, the more things change, the more they remain the same! Right, L?)
"What did they tell you?"
"They said something about your grandmother. What happened?"
"She died. Last night," her sister finally told her.
"I visited her as much as I could. I couldn't stand to see her suffer."
"She looked good on Tuesday. She was so happy." Sherri said.
"I hated seeing her in a convalescent home. I hated watching her suffer. I'm glad I visited her."
"Do whatever you have to. Cry, if you need to." her boss told her.
Don't tell me when I can cry, Debbie wanted to say.
She looked at the box of Kleenexes.
"I have to go to the funeral. It's on Monday."
"Don't think about work. You get three days off. Now, what do you need to do? Gloria will call for a car to take you home. Can you find out the train schedule?" Her boss spoke rationally.
"Couldn't the car take me to Connecticut? Too expensive?" She looked her boss in the eye.
"Yes. You can put your train ticket on my card," her boss offered.
"Wait. My friend, Liz. She's downstairs in a restaurant. Which train should I take?"
"Now, you have to pack. How long will that take? Then, there is the traffic. Do you think it would be wise to make the 6:00?"
"I'll have to take the 7:00. They're unreserved. I don't need your card."
"Do you have money?"
"Yes. Thanks," she looked her boss squarely in the eyes.
"I'm gonna run out of here," she said.
"Hey!" Mike called out to her, but she passed him.
She ran into the restaurant.
"My grandmother died!" Her voice gave way as she told Liz and Dave. "Sorry to involve you in my tragedy."
"That's OK," they smiled in understanding. Their calmness was soothing.
"A car is coming to pick us up. We have to get on the 7:00 train. I have to make a phone call. I'll meet you back here."
The blond girl on the phone bragged about her partying.
"I have an emergency," Debbie said.
The girl hung up in annoyance.
"Gotta go. She's got an emergency," she said and walked off.
"The car will be here any minute. You're supposed to come down with the card?" Debbie, in her hurry, tried to be polite to the secretary.
"Meet me at the elevator bank," Gloria said.
She arrived in the elevator.
"I'm sorry! Are you alright?" she said.
"Yeah. I expected it."
"Well, she gave a lot of love and she lived a long and happy life," Gloria said, putting her arm around Debbie, although they had only met yesterday.
No....nooo! You don't even know her! Debbie wanted to say. But Gloria was only trying to comfort her.
"It's alright. She was 83." Debbie shrugged her arm off. Gloria was taken aback slightly.
"I'm just glad she's not suffering. My pain is over," she explained.
"I don't have parents so I don't have to go through that," Gloria confessed.
You don't? Debbie looked at her. "Life is full of pain," she said.
Gloria presented the card to the driver. Debbie went to find Liz and Dave.
"Tell everyone I'm alright. Not to worry about me. Don't tell anybody if they don't ask!" Debbie instructed Gloria.
Now she knew what it felt like, what to say. She had not known what to say to her friend Liz when her father had died last March.
"I can't believe it. You were looking forward to visiting me for so long," she said to Liz.
"It's OK. I can come another time," Liz said calmly. "I'll go to my mother's tonight."
"She'll be glad to see you."
She was so thankful when Liz respected her silence and then would chat with her when the mood came over her, in the car to her apartment, where she packed, on the train home, which she had always taken alone in the three years since she had moved to New York. To make it big someday, as a writer. Not to be a secretary forever.
"They charge twenty five cents for these postcards," Liz said from her seat behind Debbie.
"Those cheap bastards! They should pay us!" Debbie giggled, as she looked at the picture of the Astor Riviera Cafe, as she thought of the rude waiters in their tuxedos. Two guys looked up from their seats...
(Well, well, the more things change, the more they remain the same! Right, L?)
Friday, October 22, 2010
Up Next: MOST IMPORTANT DAY: Part II
Stay tuned for Debbie's roots in the nostalgic past of the small New England mill towns, encompassing Lowell, MA; Manville, RI and Southeastern Connecticut.
I'm going to make you wait...
Once again, I'm going to make you wait...until next Monday or Tuesday before I fill in the missing pieces of what has happened at home in small town, rural Connecticut, which keeps calling out to Debbie. What awaits her there? Stay tuned and find out. Find out, as well, what happened to her long lost sailor.
THE MOST IMPORTANT DAY OF HER LIFE
(It's not what you think.) True, our loved ones won't be with us forever. But now, it's finally time to step outside MY lens, my friend! Or capsize, with all the lies, that I'VE been living in!!!... * * * :)...(How about the one where they'd have you believe you're not good enough??? and to think that most people place your value on how much your bank account is worth!!! ) They paused in the entrance of the Astor Riviera Cafe. The waiter in black tux and tie pointed to a table and two chairs by the window.
"How rude," Debbie groaned.
Liz laughed.
"This lifestyle...I don't know," Debbie sighed. She could not think of anything to say in the oppressive heat and so, her sentences were trailing off this morning.
"Are you still serving breakfast?" she asked the waiter.
"Yes," he said.
"Oh, nevermind, I'll have the fish sandwich," she said.
Liz ordered eggs and home fries. The waiter disappeared before Debbie could even ask for a serving of fries. When he poured her a second cup of coffee, she instantly forgave him.
"Do you have a bathroom? We ate here," Liz said.
"No," the man in tuxedo mumbled.
Liz asked their waiter and he pointed.
"I'm glad somebody knows where the bathroom is!" Debbie said loudly as they passed Mr. Tuxedo. She laughed giddily.
"I have to call Stash!" Debbie suddenly said. "I haven't talked to him in months."
"Do they have a phone book?"
"Phone book? He's at work," Debbie said.
"Well, we could look up the company," Liz said.
Debbie dialed information. "Fifty cents! Oh, well, tough." She dug in her purse. Liz laughed.
Five cents, please.
She hung up the phone in disgust. She paged through the white pages while Liz examined the yellow pages of the hefty New York Telephone book. Then they switched.
"He's not under investment banks," Debbie said. "I thought he would be. He works on Wall Street!"
"He's not in the white pages," Liz said.
"Why would he be?" Debbie said.
"See? Merrill Lynch is in the white pages." She pointed sarcastically, but with a good-natured laugh.
"Alright! Let's just go down there!"
"Why don't you call work?" Liz suggested.
"No! It's my day off. We'll find it."
Debbie could have sworn they had gotten on the downtown subway train. But, no. It now stopped at Union Square. They waited in the dank heat at the Fourteenth Street station.
"Rector Street!" she said. "It's around here somewhere."
They forged through the dense heat of Wall Street, past the historic churches and landmarks, weaving through the lunchtime crowd.
"Do you know where Suspenders is? It's a bar." Debbie approached a man selling hot dogs and soda from a cart.
"Suspenders? I don't know," he mumbled.
Neither did the men standing at the corner or the young couple arguing on the sidewalk or the doorman of an office building or anyone else. When Debbie and Liz strolled back up Rector Street, they passed the couple again, who were now kissing slowly.
"Look who made up," Debbie said.
"Why don't you find a phone and call the office?" Liz said.
"No! I've had it. I know it's somewhere around here."
"Look for someone who looks like he's been drinking. They look like they know where it is," Liz said.
Debbie approached two friendly young traders or brokers or whatever they were. "Hi! Can you tell me where Suspenders is?"
"Yeah. It's on Broadway. Go straight," the blond young man said, looking at them through his dark sunglasses. His dark-haired friend looked at them appreciatively.
"They were cute! Friendly, too! Geez, we should've asked them to join us!" Debbie sighed.
And there it was.
They sat at the bar, sipping cool Corona beer. Debbie stole a bunch of limes from the box of fruit at the bar.
"I'd rather have cherries!" she said. Liz pointed across the bar to an indoor telephone booth.
"Hello? Gloria? Could you do me a personal favor? In my desk draw - no, it's locked!"
"Yes, it is," said the temporary secretary who was taking Debbie's place at the office today.
"In my rolodex..."
"Debbie, we're so glad you called. Crystal wants to talk to you."
Her boss? What file was she looking for now? "She does? Um, is there a number in there for Stash P..."
"Debbie? Are you coming into the office today?" her boss asked.
"No."
"You're not? I was hoping you were. Where are you?" her boss asked her.
"Wall Street! At a bar. Looking forward to running around the city."
"Well, your mother called. She sounded very upset."
"Are you sure she was upset? I don't want everybody worrying for nothing."
"Your sisters were calling, too."
"Oh, no! Something's up. Is it my father?"
"No, it's not your father."
"Do you know if it's my father?" she probed her boss.
"No, I think it's your grandmother. Can you call your mother and call me back? If you need to get home, I can arrange a car service." her boss promised.
There was no answer at home. She told the operator softly that she would try again. Still, no answer.
"Hello, Stash? I know I haven't talked to you in a long time..."
"Where are you!"
"At Suspenders."
"I'm right here. I'm coming down!" he shouted.
Liz smiled from the bar and started to say something.
"Liz. Something's up at home. It's either my father or my grandmother," she said breathlessly.
"Stash's coming. I can't get a hold of my mother," she added.
"But I have to mmet Dave at 2:30," Liz said. "Maybe tonight..."
"He'll be here in a couple minutes."
She waved to him from across the bar. And it was like all those months had never passed, as if they had never stopped calling each other, as they talked like they had known each other all their lives, as it always was with Stash."
"Your boyfriend is in Pinebush? I lived in Pinebush!" he exclaimed to Liz. Debbie leaned backwards so they could talk.
"Just one!" Debbie held up her glass.
"The Irish in you," Stash said. He had a sparkle in his eye. She did not know if it were reserved just for her, or if that were just the way he was. He leaned close to her as they conversed.
"I lost weight," he said.
"You look good," Debbie said.
"So do you."
"I lost weight."
"You were never fat since I've known you!" Stash shouted.
"Yeah, but..."
"The only place you lost weight is between the ears, maybe," he smiled.
"No! Wait till you see my writing," she pouted at him, and smiled.
"I wish I could hang out tonight. I have a party to go to. On my motorcycle."
"Is it a Harley?" Debbie asked.
"Yeah," he said in surprise.
He did not seem like he rode a Harley, although his eyes were vibrant, his hair dark and neatly trimmed, his every gesture alive.
"I've gotta go back," Stash said.
"It's two. We have to meet Dave," Liz looked at her watch.
"I like meeting people, but I also like to keep in touch," Debbie called after him.
"Can we just call a cab? I can't deal with finding these subways. I'll pay," Debbie sighed in the heat, which they had temporarily escaped from, in the oasis of Suspenders.
"Sure. I'll split it with you."
Debbie waited nervously in the lobby while Liz announced herself to the receptionist. She did not remove her sunglasses.
"I need a phone," she said. But she could not retrieve her messages at home. The beep on her answering machine was too long. And still, there was no answer at her mother's house in Connecticut.
"I have to go to the office," she said. They walked around the corner to the subway station. It seemed forever as Liz and Dave conversed about their jobs, which Debbie did not hear.
She walked through the revolving doors, across the floor of the marble lobby, to the bank of elevators. Her legs felt weak and heavy. She was wearing shorts and a V neck tee shirt but she did not care. She barged into her boss' office. No one else was around.
Her boss looked up, with a slight smile.
"I'm nervous," Debbie said breathlessly. "I need an office." She grabbed her rolodex.
"How rude," Debbie groaned.
Liz laughed.
"This lifestyle...I don't know," Debbie sighed. She could not think of anything to say in the oppressive heat and so, her sentences were trailing off this morning.
"Are you still serving breakfast?" she asked the waiter.
"Yes," he said.
"Oh, nevermind, I'll have the fish sandwich," she said.
Liz ordered eggs and home fries. The waiter disappeared before Debbie could even ask for a serving of fries. When he poured her a second cup of coffee, she instantly forgave him.
"Do you have a bathroom? We ate here," Liz said.
"No," the man in tuxedo mumbled.
Liz asked their waiter and he pointed.
"I'm glad somebody knows where the bathroom is!" Debbie said loudly as they passed Mr. Tuxedo. She laughed giddily.
"I have to call Stash!" Debbie suddenly said. "I haven't talked to him in months."
"Do they have a phone book?"
"Phone book? He's at work," Debbie said.
"Well, we could look up the company," Liz said.
Debbie dialed information. "Fifty cents! Oh, well, tough." She dug in her purse. Liz laughed.
Five cents, please.
She hung up the phone in disgust. She paged through the white pages while Liz examined the yellow pages of the hefty New York Telephone book. Then they switched.
"He's not under investment banks," Debbie said. "I thought he would be. He works on Wall Street!"
"He's not in the white pages," Liz said.
"Why would he be?" Debbie said.
"See? Merrill Lynch is in the white pages." She pointed sarcastically, but with a good-natured laugh.
"Alright! Let's just go down there!"
"Why don't you call work?" Liz suggested.
"No! It's my day off. We'll find it."
Debbie could have sworn they had gotten on the downtown subway train. But, no. It now stopped at Union Square. They waited in the dank heat at the Fourteenth Street station.
"Rector Street!" she said. "It's around here somewhere."
They forged through the dense heat of Wall Street, past the historic churches and landmarks, weaving through the lunchtime crowd.
"Do you know where Suspenders is? It's a bar." Debbie approached a man selling hot dogs and soda from a cart.
"Suspenders? I don't know," he mumbled.
Neither did the men standing at the corner or the young couple arguing on the sidewalk or the doorman of an office building or anyone else. When Debbie and Liz strolled back up Rector Street, they passed the couple again, who were now kissing slowly.
"Look who made up," Debbie said.
"Why don't you find a phone and call the office?" Liz said.
"No! I've had it. I know it's somewhere around here."
"Look for someone who looks like he's been drinking. They look like they know where it is," Liz said.
Debbie approached two friendly young traders or brokers or whatever they were. "Hi! Can you tell me where Suspenders is?"
"Yeah. It's on Broadway. Go straight," the blond young man said, looking at them through his dark sunglasses. His dark-haired friend looked at them appreciatively.
"They were cute! Friendly, too! Geez, we should've asked them to join us!" Debbie sighed.
And there it was.
They sat at the bar, sipping cool Corona beer. Debbie stole a bunch of limes from the box of fruit at the bar.
"I'd rather have cherries!" she said. Liz pointed across the bar to an indoor telephone booth.
"Hello? Gloria? Could you do me a personal favor? In my desk draw - no, it's locked!"
"Yes, it is," said the temporary secretary who was taking Debbie's place at the office today.
"In my rolodex..."
"Debbie, we're so glad you called. Crystal wants to talk to you."
Her boss? What file was she looking for now? "She does? Um, is there a number in there for Stash P..."
"Debbie? Are you coming into the office today?" her boss asked.
"No."
"You're not? I was hoping you were. Where are you?" her boss asked her.
"Wall Street! At a bar. Looking forward to running around the city."
"Well, your mother called. She sounded very upset."
"Are you sure she was upset? I don't want everybody worrying for nothing."
"Your sisters were calling, too."
"Oh, no! Something's up. Is it my father?"
"No, it's not your father."
"Do you know if it's my father?" she probed her boss.
"No, I think it's your grandmother. Can you call your mother and call me back? If you need to get home, I can arrange a car service." her boss promised.
There was no answer at home. She told the operator softly that she would try again. Still, no answer.
"Hello, Stash? I know I haven't talked to you in a long time..."
"Where are you!"
"At Suspenders."
"I'm right here. I'm coming down!" he shouted.
Liz smiled from the bar and started to say something.
"Liz. Something's up at home. It's either my father or my grandmother," she said breathlessly.
"Stash's coming. I can't get a hold of my mother," she added.
"But I have to mmet Dave at 2:30," Liz said. "Maybe tonight..."
"He'll be here in a couple minutes."
She waved to him from across the bar. And it was like all those months had never passed, as if they had never stopped calling each other, as they talked like they had known each other all their lives, as it always was with Stash."
"Your boyfriend is in Pinebush? I lived in Pinebush!" he exclaimed to Liz. Debbie leaned backwards so they could talk.
"Just one!" Debbie held up her glass.
"The Irish in you," Stash said. He had a sparkle in his eye. She did not know if it were reserved just for her, or if that were just the way he was. He leaned close to her as they conversed.
"I lost weight," he said.
"You look good," Debbie said.
"So do you."
"I lost weight."
"You were never fat since I've known you!" Stash shouted.
"Yeah, but..."
"The only place you lost weight is between the ears, maybe," he smiled.
"No! Wait till you see my writing," she pouted at him, and smiled.
"I wish I could hang out tonight. I have a party to go to. On my motorcycle."
"Is it a Harley?" Debbie asked.
"Yeah," he said in surprise.
He did not seem like he rode a Harley, although his eyes were vibrant, his hair dark and neatly trimmed, his every gesture alive.
"I've gotta go back," Stash said.
"It's two. We have to meet Dave," Liz looked at her watch.
"I like meeting people, but I also like to keep in touch," Debbie called after him.
"Can we just call a cab? I can't deal with finding these subways. I'll pay," Debbie sighed in the heat, which they had temporarily escaped from, in the oasis of Suspenders.
"Sure. I'll split it with you."
Debbie waited nervously in the lobby while Liz announced herself to the receptionist. She did not remove her sunglasses.
"I need a phone," she said. But she could not retrieve her messages at home. The beep on her answering machine was too long. And still, there was no answer at her mother's house in Connecticut.
"I have to go to the office," she said. They walked around the corner to the subway station. It seemed forever as Liz and Dave conversed about their jobs, which Debbie did not hear.
She walked through the revolving doors, across the floor of the marble lobby, to the bank of elevators. Her legs felt weak and heavy. She was wearing shorts and a V neck tee shirt but she did not care. She barged into her boss' office. No one else was around.
Her boss looked up, with a slight smile.
"I'm nervous," Debbie said breathlessly. "I need an office." She grabbed her rolodex.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Up Next: THE MOST IMPORTANT DAY OF HER LIFE
Up Next: The Most Important Day of Her Life (It's not what you think). The call back to small town life continues as Debbie finds herself surrounded by her family and old friends after a surprise phone call from home. And echoes from the past reverberate as Debbie learns the truth in WONDERFUL TONIGHT: Epilogue (Also, Not What You Think). Clue: If you are familiar with the backstory to Eric Clapton's song, "You Look Wonderful Tonight," you will know what I'm talking about. Unlucky in love or what??? Ya think?
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Theme Song to Charlie's Angels?
DANCING WITH THE STARS, Mondays, 8pm, RESULTS Tuesdays at 9pm on ABC. Lacey and her partner Kyle danced to the Theme Song of Charlie's Angels...I think that is the song going through my head these days, but with a faster tempo (I must have been in music in my past life!)...What does it mean? Is this theme song familiar to "Movie of the Week?" And yes, I am dating my age! And would I settle for the small screen over the big screen? Yes, absolutely, yes. For now...Broadway...There's got to be a Broadway musical in there somewhere...there's got to be. COMING NEXT YEAR in 2011 to "Denise Dances...." Either Mixpod.com, my own Playlist or Music.choice.com! P.S. "Fool's Gold," book genre...to me, the genre most resembles that of Danielle Steele: she writes about the "high life," usually in New York City, there is often tragedy, and her main character goes through many, many changes in one lifetime, very similar to my life. All throughout, there is that funny, lively tone to it which I feel my novel shares as well. Next, I will be reading, "Safe Harbour," by DS, after of course! "Hot Pursuit" by Christina Skye! (Da, da, da, da, da-dah! Dah, dah-dah, da, da-da!)
Monday, October 18, 2010
INDIVIDUALITY: Wonderful Tonight, Conclusion
"Let's go outside," he said.
"He wants to see the River. I'll be right back. Don't worry, I won't leave," she told Liz.
"Have you ever been seduced by a sailor?" he smiled as they kissed.
"No!" she suddenly realized.
"You know what they say. One in every port?" he said slyly.
One in every port? He had joined the Navy at twenty, and had no intention of leaving it, she could tell.
"I joined it because I don't like to work," he said.
Don't like to work?
"Oh. Work is so hard. It's brutal," she said sadly, looking up at him.
He had left Boston for Virginia Beach where he would be stationed tomorrow. She thought of her job as a secretary in New York City; where he had never been.
"I love your perfume," he said.
"It's Coco Chanel. I can't believe my boss got it for me!" she cried. On every occasion, her demanding staff showered her with flowers, small presents, luncheons, and now, Secretaries' Week.
"Now I know what's waiting for me in New York," he said, as he nuzzled her with his kisses on her neck, her earlobe, her cheek, her hips. He kissed a little too hard and aggressively, but she loved his hands on her waist, her hips, her chest.
"We better stop," she said, his hands on her waist, beneath his black leather jacket he had given her to wear.
"I'm a nineties chick. There are things about me that you don't understand," she said as they walked across the parking lot to the lights of the bar. He had no idea what she meant.
She stood in the entry, flustered. She could not face the bouncer, whom they had convinced to let them back in the bar.
"We're getting her coat," he had told the blond bouncer. She returned, wearing his leather jacket.
A slow song started to play. She recognized the familiar strains of "You Look Wonderful Tonight." She held onto his neck, then his collar as they danced. She leaned her head on his chest.
"I'll treasure this forever," he said, as she jotted her office and home numbers on a Chevy's matchbook.
"Even if I never see you again, I just want you to know I had a really good time," she said. He held her hand, looking sad.
0980D
"He wants to see the River. I'll be right back. Don't worry, I won't leave," she told Liz.
"Have you ever been seduced by a sailor?" he smiled as they kissed.
"No!" she suddenly realized.
"You know what they say. One in every port?" he said slyly.
One in every port? He had joined the Navy at twenty, and had no intention of leaving it, she could tell.
"I joined it because I don't like to work," he said.
Don't like to work?
"Oh. Work is so hard. It's brutal," she said sadly, looking up at him.
He had left Boston for Virginia Beach where he would be stationed tomorrow. She thought of her job as a secretary in New York City; where he had never been.
"I love your perfume," he said.
"It's Coco Chanel. I can't believe my boss got it for me!" she cried. On every occasion, her demanding staff showered her with flowers, small presents, luncheons, and now, Secretaries' Week.
"Now I know what's waiting for me in New York," he said, as he nuzzled her with his kisses on her neck, her earlobe, her cheek, her hips. He kissed a little too hard and aggressively, but she loved his hands on her waist, her hips, her chest.
"We better stop," she said, his hands on her waist, beneath his black leather jacket he had given her to wear.
"I'm a nineties chick. There are things about me that you don't understand," she said as they walked across the parking lot to the lights of the bar. He had no idea what she meant.
She stood in the entry, flustered. She could not face the bouncer, whom they had convinced to let them back in the bar.
"We're getting her coat," he had told the blond bouncer. She returned, wearing his leather jacket.
A slow song started to play. She recognized the familiar strains of "You Look Wonderful Tonight." She held onto his neck, then his collar as they danced. She leaned her head on his chest.
"I'll treasure this forever," he said, as she jotted her office and home numbers on a Chevy's matchbook.
"Even if I never see you again, I just want you to know I had a really good time," she said. He held her hand, looking sad.
0980D
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Waiting for Love: WONDERFUL Part III
You can wait another day or two, can't you?...WONDERFUL TONIGHT, Part III...Coming to Fool's Gold on Monday, October 19! if they don't draw too much blood at the Lab! (Keep reading for the exciting conclusion!) -- What's that song going 'round in my head these days? The theme song to "Charlie's Angels?" No -- I think it's the theme song to "Movie of the Week!"!!!... * * * :) -- NOT lol!
Friday, October 15, 2010
Next Up: WONDERFUL TONIGHT, Part II
Uh oohhhhh...you're gonna get an earful! But, as always, in good taste -- I hope!
YOU LOOK WONDERFUL TONIGHT
At long last, a love scene! She felt like her mother must have felt when she met her father. Towering over her in a black leather jacket, he asked her to dance. She smiled up at him on the red and white checkered dance floor in the fifties rock and roll bar. He smiled down on her as he casually danced the Twist. People her parents' age jitter-bugged around them.
"That's the jitterbug!" she cried out to her longtime friend Liz. She enjoyed this new setting.
"I'm going to have a cigarette," he said.
She felt his leather jacket against her shoulder. He came back with two cold glasses of beer.
"Let's go look at the chopper over there," he motioned. They stood on the stairs looking at the motorcycle on its small platform for a while. A blond-haired bouncer told them politely to keep off the stairs. He walked over to the glass windows and placed her on the red stool beside him. They looked down at the dark river.
"Let's pretend we're riding a motorcyle," he said. He grabbed her waist.
"I have to go find Liz," she said. "I'll come back."
"Hope you do. I like you," he said.
He had dark brown hair, straight, with a round face and squinting blue eyes. He reminded her of her younger sister's first boyfriend.
Is this how her mother felt when she met her father? Her father, with his James Dean hair, and his passion for motorcycles.
"Oh, father, you never wanted to hurt me," she sang in her mind, laden with meaning. In an interview, Madonna had explained that the song is about how you marry your father.
"When's your birthday?" she asked.
"August third!"
"Right before my father's!"
And then, "How old are you?"
"Thirty."
"Thirty! You look so young. I thought you were twenty four or twenty five."
She would have sworn he were only twenty four.
"Well, I'm twenty eight. Same," she said.
"Thirty one," he admitted.
"I like to dress up," she said.
And then, "You look great!" he burst out. He looked at her sleek black dress, black stockings, high black heels.
That made him a Leo. The Leo qualities encapsulated her father. Aquarius Moon, she thought of herself. That makes us opposites. Opposites attract.
She reveled in her Aquarian inner qualities, her eccentricity, her rebellious attitude, her own curious intellect, her outright craziness and individuality....GUESS YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO WAIT FOR LOVE -- again! See ya here Tuesday.
"That's the jitterbug!" she cried out to her longtime friend Liz. She enjoyed this new setting.
"I'm going to have a cigarette," he said.
She felt his leather jacket against her shoulder. He came back with two cold glasses of beer.
"Let's go look at the chopper over there," he motioned. They stood on the stairs looking at the motorcycle on its small platform for a while. A blond-haired bouncer told them politely to keep off the stairs. He walked over to the glass windows and placed her on the red stool beside him. They looked down at the dark river.
"Let's pretend we're riding a motorcyle," he said. He grabbed her waist.
"I have to go find Liz," she said. "I'll come back."
"Hope you do. I like you," he said.
He had dark brown hair, straight, with a round face and squinting blue eyes. He reminded her of her younger sister's first boyfriend.
Is this how her mother felt when she met her father? Her father, with his James Dean hair, and his passion for motorcycles.
"Oh, father, you never wanted to hurt me," she sang in her mind, laden with meaning. In an interview, Madonna had explained that the song is about how you marry your father.
"When's your birthday?" she asked.
"August third!"
"Right before my father's!"
And then, "How old are you?"
"Thirty."
"Thirty! You look so young. I thought you were twenty four or twenty five."
She would have sworn he were only twenty four.
"Well, I'm twenty eight. Same," she said.
"Thirty one," he admitted.
"I like to dress up," she said.
And then, "You look great!" he burst out. He looked at her sleek black dress, black stockings, high black heels.
That made him a Leo. The Leo qualities encapsulated her father. Aquarius Moon, she thought of herself. That makes us opposites. Opposites attract.
She reveled in her Aquarian inner qualities, her eccentricity, her rebellious attitude, her own curious intellect, her outright craziness and individuality....GUESS YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO WAIT FOR LOVE -- again! See ya here Tuesday.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
P.S.
I don't know if you're familiar with the song, "You Look Wonderful Tonight." It's a wonderful song by Eric Clapton. I don't know if you know the back story behind the song, but if you do...this is a FORESHADOWING of things to come...!
Next Up: YOU LOOK WONDERFUL TONIGHT
Look, you're all just going to have to wait yet another day for love...Good God! Another day???!!!...* * * :) NOT lol!
THE HOTTEST: Part III
She held her breath, anxious about making the next train to South Station, this bright sunny April morning. She wore a sweater over a turtleneck and was already beginning to sweat. Carrying her heavy suitcase inone hand and clutching her sunglasses and purse in her other, she tried to hail a cab. She crossed Third Avenue by Bloomingdale's.
Finally, she was on Fifth Avenue, and Central Park South. She eyed the cabs lined up along The Plaza Hotel, among horsedrawn carriages. "No, off duty," the cab drivers standing on the sidewalk echoed one another.
"Aren't there any cabs on duty? How do I find which cab is on duty?" she started to shout, on this bright morning in front of the well-dressed tourists outside the Plaza Hotel. And right away, a man rose and opened the door of his yellow car.
"Think I'll make it?" she said.
She curled up on the seat of the long, spacious, luxurious Amtrak train, empty of the rush hour crowd this Friday morning. She curled up on the seat with Esquire Magazine. "Is it time to get out?" she read tearfully. Is it time to quit your job as hub of the office, where you've been for three years, where everyone is crazy about you, where your boss is doing everything to drive you crazy and to keep you from being promoted? She took the quiz. She placed check marks where they applied: I know my boss's job better than she does. I'm with the company for the long haul. I want to make a lasting mark on my field. {sic}
"Sure, things may not be perfect at your job, but think about what you can do to improve your situation," read the answer to her score.
A quietness came over her. She remembered a boy from college as she relaxed on the sun-filled train to Boston. She had not felt this mellow, had time to let her thoughts wander lazily, in a long time. But now, she focused tearfully on the magazine article. When the train finally pulled into South Station, she was almost in tears. She put on her sunglasses to face Liz. She walked down the hot platform in the sunny haze. After months of endless cold...Liz greeted her at the end of the platform, smiling, in a tee shirt and shorts, her long hair pulled back in a ponytail. Liz drove along the breezy highway as they chatted about work in their respective cities.
"Oh! I forgot my make-up. Can we stop somewhere? I left it at Nicole's and my apartment." Debbie suddenly realized. She picked out a bright ruby lipstick and lavender eyeshadow.
Finally, she was on Fifth Avenue, and Central Park South. She eyed the cabs lined up along The Plaza Hotel, among horsedrawn carriages. "No, off duty," the cab drivers standing on the sidewalk echoed one another.
"Aren't there any cabs on duty? How do I find which cab is on duty?" she started to shout, on this bright morning in front of the well-dressed tourists outside the Plaza Hotel. And right away, a man rose and opened the door of his yellow car.
"Think I'll make it?" she said.
She curled up on the seat of the long, spacious, luxurious Amtrak train, empty of the rush hour crowd this Friday morning. She curled up on the seat with Esquire Magazine. "Is it time to get out?" she read tearfully. Is it time to quit your job as hub of the office, where you've been for three years, where everyone is crazy about you, where your boss is doing everything to drive you crazy and to keep you from being promoted? She took the quiz. She placed check marks where they applied: I know my boss's job better than she does. I'm with the company for the long haul. I want to make a lasting mark on my field. {sic}
"Sure, things may not be perfect at your job, but think about what you can do to improve your situation," read the answer to her score.
A quietness came over her. She remembered a boy from college as she relaxed on the sun-filled train to Boston. She had not felt this mellow, had time to let her thoughts wander lazily, in a long time. But now, she focused tearfully on the magazine article. When the train finally pulled into South Station, she was almost in tears. She put on her sunglasses to face Liz. She walked down the hot platform in the sunny haze. After months of endless cold...Liz greeted her at the end of the platform, smiling, in a tee shirt and shorts, her long hair pulled back in a ponytail. Liz drove along the breezy highway as they chatted about work in their respective cities.
"Oh! I forgot my make-up. Can we stop somewhere? I left it at Nicole's and my apartment." Debbie suddenly realized. She picked out a bright ruby lipstick and lavender eyeshadow.
HOTTEST DAY Part II
They would be reading each other's stories to the class tonight. She couldn't...what ifshe started to cry in front of all those people? It made her lips tremble just thinking about it.
When class was over, she decided to walk across town to the office before calling Nicole. None of the booths were working. Severed telephone cord after another appeared on the crowded sidewalks. It was taking forever to get across town. She descended into the subway. When she climbed up the stairs, she realized she still had several blocks to go. How could it take an hour or two just to walk across town?
She dialed Nicole from her office phone. It rang twenty, now thirty times. No answer. She slammed the phone down and left the darkened office, dragging her heavy suitcase with the bottle of Frexchenet and the Coco Chanel wrapped and tissued and cushioned within it. She walked up Sixth Avenue. She wanted to take a bus, but it was a pain. Finding the stop, digging for change, waiting. She wanted a taxi, but she needed to save her money. No lit cabs were going her way. She walked up and down the hilly avenue in back of the highrise apartment building overlooking the East River. The streets were deserted. Why was she doing this? Her suitcase was heavy. She marched up the canopied sidewalk and announced herself to the doorman. She spied a cardboard box with the aroma of pepperoni pizza narrowly escaping.
She followed the pizza man up to the 14th floor. NIcole had obviously given up on going out. Nicole greeted them, in a neat white turtleneck, her long blond hair brushed neatly away from her face.
"Did you still want to go out?" Debbie said.
"Not really. It's late," she said. She frowned gravely.
"Weren't you...wondering where I was?" Debbie said over the counter.
"After ten o'clock, I said, hey, it's too late," Nicole stated firmly as she reached for a couple of dishes.
Debbie had left class at 8:30. It had taken her two hours to walk from her uptown class, and to go across town to her office. And another forty minutes to walk back uptown to their apartment.
"I didn't realize..." Debbie said. But she did. She had been mad at Nicole for the annoyance in her voice, mad that she never returned phone calls, and now she was mad because Nicole had not picked up the phone.
But she joined Nicole for pizza.
"Are you tired?" Nicole said.
"No! I feel relaxed, invigorated," Debbie smiled, thinking of all the racing around today, of the flowers and champagne and perfume, of the controversy her story had caused her classmates.
"One thing, I hate, more than anything, is when he says he'll call and then he doesn't!" Nicole exclaimed. "I meant, just with boyfriends," she added.
"Oh, my God. This is a mess," Debbie mumbled.
"Don't worry about it," Nicole said. And then they were laughing and joking like little kids, likesisters. But when Debbie left the next morning, she did not awake Nicole to say goodbye, but instead, slipped quietly out of their apartment with the view of the East River.
When class was over, she decided to walk across town to the office before calling Nicole. None of the booths were working. Severed telephone cord after another appeared on the crowded sidewalks. It was taking forever to get across town. She descended into the subway. When she climbed up the stairs, she realized she still had several blocks to go. How could it take an hour or two just to walk across town?
She dialed Nicole from her office phone. It rang twenty, now thirty times. No answer. She slammed the phone down and left the darkened office, dragging her heavy suitcase with the bottle of Frexchenet and the Coco Chanel wrapped and tissued and cushioned within it. She walked up Sixth Avenue. She wanted to take a bus, but it was a pain. Finding the stop, digging for change, waiting. She wanted a taxi, but she needed to save her money. No lit cabs were going her way. She walked up and down the hilly avenue in back of the highrise apartment building overlooking the East River. The streets were deserted. Why was she doing this? Her suitcase was heavy. She marched up the canopied sidewalk and announced herself to the doorman. She spied a cardboard box with the aroma of pepperoni pizza narrowly escaping.
She followed the pizza man up to the 14th floor. NIcole had obviously given up on going out. Nicole greeted them, in a neat white turtleneck, her long blond hair brushed neatly away from her face.
"Did you still want to go out?" Debbie said.
"Not really. It's late," she said. She frowned gravely.
"Weren't you...wondering where I was?" Debbie said over the counter.
"After ten o'clock, I said, hey, it's too late," Nicole stated firmly as she reached for a couple of dishes.
Debbie had left class at 8:30. It had taken her two hours to walk from her uptown class, and to go across town to her office. And another forty minutes to walk back uptown to their apartment.
"I didn't realize..." Debbie said. But she did. She had been mad at Nicole for the annoyance in her voice, mad that she never returned phone calls, and now she was mad because Nicole had not picked up the phone.
But she joined Nicole for pizza.
"Are you tired?" Nicole said.
"No! I feel relaxed, invigorated," Debbie smiled, thinking of all the racing around today, of the flowers and champagne and perfume, of the controversy her story had caused her classmates.
"One thing, I hate, more than anything, is when he says he'll call and then he doesn't!" Nicole exclaimed. "I meant, just with boyfriends," she added.
"Oh, my God. This is a mess," Debbie mumbled.
"Don't worry about it," Nicole said. And then they were laughing and joking like little kids, likesisters. But when Debbie left the next morning, she did not awake Nicole to say goodbye, but instead, slipped quietly out of their apartment with the view of the East River.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Better Luck Tomorrow!
Better luck tomorrow, both in finding love and putting it out there on my book blog! But, after doc's appt at 9am, perhaps a road trip??? (Especially if the scale is higher than I thought it would be!)
THE HOTTEST DAY IN APRIL
At long last, a love scene, but not quite yet..."If you're looking for Prince Charming, he ain't out there," Amanda told her.
Debbie looked outside the window of her friend's Long Island apartment. Oh, yeah? Well, I'm going to find him, she vowed silently. How she was going to do that was a mystery, even to her.
"I think you'll get married soon," Amanda said.
I hope so, she thought.
"And it's not going to be to Prince Charming. Every guy you go out with, you've said something about his looks. Too this or too that..."
"Oh, yeah? I didn't know that," Debbie wondered aloud.
Asleep on the velvety couch late at night, she thought of Amanda's words. She heard a car drive quietly but surely into the parking lot and stop beside its home. As surely as that car had stopped, Mr. Right would finally come home to her and she would wake up from her sound sleep and say, "Oh, there he is." It would be as simple as that.
She met her roommate at Madison Avenue, near the address of the prestigious Conde Nast publishing company.
"Who knows where I'll be? California? London?" Debbie gazed across Madison Avenue, breathless with the excitement of Secretary's Week. Her boss had given her perfume, Coco Chanel. She did not have the guts to take her to lunch!
Stop, Debbie had wanted to say when her boss thanked her and told her why she had chosen Coco Chanel.
"I used to wear it on Saturday nights when I would go out with Rick," she said. "Don't you agree that some perfumes are not meant to wear in the office?"
Too bad I don't have anyone special to wear it for, Debbie thought wistfully. And today, Mary had given her a bottle of Frexchenet champagne in addition to the vase of tulips. Then she hugged her lightly before Debbie left for her three-day weekend. As if she knew, this would be goodbye...
And then, she remembered, the rent for May was due! She called her roommate, Nicole, looking up her number at Conde Nast.
"Well, I guess I'll have the apartment to myself," Nicole said.
"Yeah...it's kind of spooky, isn't it? All winter long..." All winter long, Debbie had spent the weekends alone.
Then she asked Nicole, from a working phone booth, "I don't want to go to class. Let's just go out."
"No, you should go," Nicole said.
"I'll call you when I get out," OK?"
"All right," Nicole sounded impatient, as usual. Well, Debbie did not have to call her at all.
They would be reading each other's stories to the class tonight...
DARN IT! Time's Up! Way too short --- like, 5 minutes???
Debbie looked outside the window of her friend's Long Island apartment. Oh, yeah? Well, I'm going to find him, she vowed silently. How she was going to do that was a mystery, even to her.
"I think you'll get married soon," Amanda said.
I hope so, she thought.
"And it's not going to be to Prince Charming. Every guy you go out with, you've said something about his looks. Too this or too that..."
"Oh, yeah? I didn't know that," Debbie wondered aloud.
Asleep on the velvety couch late at night, she thought of Amanda's words. She heard a car drive quietly but surely into the parking lot and stop beside its home. As surely as that car had stopped, Mr. Right would finally come home to her and she would wake up from her sound sleep and say, "Oh, there he is." It would be as simple as that.
She met her roommate at Madison Avenue, near the address of the prestigious Conde Nast publishing company.
"Who knows where I'll be? California? London?" Debbie gazed across Madison Avenue, breathless with the excitement of Secretary's Week. Her boss had given her perfume, Coco Chanel. She did not have the guts to take her to lunch!
Stop, Debbie had wanted to say when her boss thanked her and told her why she had chosen Coco Chanel.
"I used to wear it on Saturday nights when I would go out with Rick," she said. "Don't you agree that some perfumes are not meant to wear in the office?"
Too bad I don't have anyone special to wear it for, Debbie thought wistfully. And today, Mary had given her a bottle of Frexchenet champagne in addition to the vase of tulips. Then she hugged her lightly before Debbie left for her three-day weekend. As if she knew, this would be goodbye...
And then, she remembered, the rent for May was due! She called her roommate, Nicole, looking up her number at Conde Nast.
"Well, I guess I'll have the apartment to myself," Nicole said.
"Yeah...it's kind of spooky, isn't it? All winter long..." All winter long, Debbie had spent the weekends alone.
Then she asked Nicole, from a working phone booth, "I don't want to go to class. Let's just go out."
"No, you should go," Nicole said.
"I'll call you when I get out," OK?"
"All right," Nicole sounded impatient, as usual. Well, Debbie did not have to call her at all.
They would be reading each other's stories to the class tonight...
DARN IT! Time's Up! Way too short --- like, 5 minutes???
Saturday, October 9, 2010
See ya Tuesday!
I will see you here Tuesday, live from the Groton Library, as rain is predicted and the L's are all closed on this Holiday Weekend. Drive safely, everyone! Don't drink & drive. Have a desig driver or stay home!
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Next Up: THE HOTTEST DAY IN APRIL
Things are really starting to heat up for Debbie! HINT: It's not in the office....Stay tuned for THE HOTTEST DAY IN APRIL as the call home to Debbie continues with the corporate layoffs and stress of Manhattan in the late 1980s.
LAYOFFS II
"Benefits, Debbie. Not privileges." Her boss corrected her. What was the difference, Debbie thought. Of course, she did not voice her opinion to her overly aggressive, attractive female boss.
"You will have to walk to the zerox room to pick up your mail," the office manager told her. "Alexander will not be delivering it to your desk anymore. They are cutting down on the mailmen." The office manager told her.
"I never dreamed I would get to be a mailman, too," Debbie said sweetly. "What next?! What are they going to take away from us next?!"
In the cafeteria, Debbie was full of ideas.
"Are we having a Depression or what? Stores are having outrageous sales at Christmas time. All these layoffs, everywhere..."
When she first entered the doors of McGrath & O'connor, she had never dreamed this would happen. It was such a great, well known company, a household word. Could anything save it?
"The VP is hiring new people. I asked him why he doesn't put a freeze on hiring right now," Amanda said. "I think someone upstairs doesn't know what he's doing."
"If people weren't given so much credit, charging up a storm, the stores wouldn't be going out of business. Everyone owes thousands. No one wants to spend their money," Debbie said, thinking of her own Mastercard bill, which she had wracked up before she received her raise. "And then, the waste. We waste so much paper. Look at the stationery and supplies we order. And then, we change our name, or phone number and throw everything away. It's such a waste," she said. She did not know if she were making sense or not.
"Everyone wants power for themselves," she said, in between mouthfuls of chicken, rice and mixed vegetables. "They do not care about the company."
"Did you sign up to attend the benefits meeting? It is imperative that you go," her boss said.
"Yeah, I think you should," the office manager said.
Chairs were set up in rows, facing a small podium. Almost every seat was filled. Two young secretaries sat together, gossipping about work and shopping. A group of young men were discussing sports. Two elderly men were discussing the effect the new benefits package would have on Medicare. Debbie sat with her boss, Mary, and two salesmen, close to the front row. On her yellow notepad, she doodled fanciful scenes, feeling far away from the place where she was. A woman stepped up to the podium.
"Welcome to the McGrath and O'Connor annual benefits meeting. This is quite an ambitious group we have here this morning. First, we will watch a short film and then we will be on hand to answer all you questions," she spoke professionally into the microphone.
Debbie watched the boring video with heavily lidded eyes.
"OK we are now ready for you to start asking questions," the woman announced.
Debbie's eyes were starting to glaze. She thought of the tall, handsome man in her office.
"Debbie? What did that man just say?" Her boss asked her.
"Oh...I don't know. I didn't hear him," she said. She looked at her boss and blinked, her mouth parted slightly, her gaze far away. She quickly tried to hide this from her boss.
"What is this? We have one month to choose from your list of doctors. This is like picking one out of a hat. It's like a dartboard," the irate bald man in the back said.
"Is this a tax write-off or something? We have only one month to make up our minds about the benefits package before 1989 is over?" a woman suggested.
"How do we pick a doctor?" the man demanded.
"Well, you can call them," the woman said.
"What credentials and criteria do the doctors on your list meet? How do we find out these credentials?" Her boss spoke.
"You can call their offices and talk to their staff, ask for reccommendations," the woman replied.
"There are only two doctors within New York State who are on that list. What if I need a reliable gynocologist?" one woman complained.
"You've had all month to look at the list of doctors and decide. If you opened and read your benefits package which you received in the mail," the woman replied.
Debbie waited until her boss got up to leave. Mary and the salesmen had already left for lunch.
"Want to have lunch?" Debbie offered.
"No, I have to meet with my boss," her boss said nervously. "How do you know which criteria these doctors meet? She didn't answer my question very well."
"I know. She expects us to call them and ask their secretaries?" Debbie said.
"If you like the doctor you have, you should keep him. It's hard to find someone you can trust," Debbie said to Mike.
He sat at the typewriter.
"Yeah, I love my doctor. Why pay $300 a year for their insurance? I don't go that much. I can do without it."
"You really should stay with him, because it's hard to find a doctor you like," Debbie advised him, although she did not have a doctor herself since she had moved to New York.
0953D
"You will have to walk to the zerox room to pick up your mail," the office manager told her. "Alexander will not be delivering it to your desk anymore. They are cutting down on the mailmen." The office manager told her.
"I never dreamed I would get to be a mailman, too," Debbie said sweetly. "What next?! What are they going to take away from us next?!"
In the cafeteria, Debbie was full of ideas.
"Are we having a Depression or what? Stores are having outrageous sales at Christmas time. All these layoffs, everywhere..."
When she first entered the doors of McGrath & O'connor, she had never dreamed this would happen. It was such a great, well known company, a household word. Could anything save it?
"The VP is hiring new people. I asked him why he doesn't put a freeze on hiring right now," Amanda said. "I think someone upstairs doesn't know what he's doing."
"If people weren't given so much credit, charging up a storm, the stores wouldn't be going out of business. Everyone owes thousands. No one wants to spend their money," Debbie said, thinking of her own Mastercard bill, which she had wracked up before she received her raise. "And then, the waste. We waste so much paper. Look at the stationery and supplies we order. And then, we change our name, or phone number and throw everything away. It's such a waste," she said. She did not know if she were making sense or not.
"Everyone wants power for themselves," she said, in between mouthfuls of chicken, rice and mixed vegetables. "They do not care about the company."
"Did you sign up to attend the benefits meeting? It is imperative that you go," her boss said.
"Yeah, I think you should," the office manager said.
Chairs were set up in rows, facing a small podium. Almost every seat was filled. Two young secretaries sat together, gossipping about work and shopping. A group of young men were discussing sports. Two elderly men were discussing the effect the new benefits package would have on Medicare. Debbie sat with her boss, Mary, and two salesmen, close to the front row. On her yellow notepad, she doodled fanciful scenes, feeling far away from the place where she was. A woman stepped up to the podium.
"Welcome to the McGrath and O'Connor annual benefits meeting. This is quite an ambitious group we have here this morning. First, we will watch a short film and then we will be on hand to answer all you questions," she spoke professionally into the microphone.
Debbie watched the boring video with heavily lidded eyes.
"OK we are now ready for you to start asking questions," the woman announced.
Debbie's eyes were starting to glaze. She thought of the tall, handsome man in her office.
"Debbie? What did that man just say?" Her boss asked her.
"Oh...I don't know. I didn't hear him," she said. She looked at her boss and blinked, her mouth parted slightly, her gaze far away. She quickly tried to hide this from her boss.
"What is this? We have one month to choose from your list of doctors. This is like picking one out of a hat. It's like a dartboard," the irate bald man in the back said.
"Is this a tax write-off or something? We have only one month to make up our minds about the benefits package before 1989 is over?" a woman suggested.
"How do we pick a doctor?" the man demanded.
"Well, you can call them," the woman said.
"What credentials and criteria do the doctors on your list meet? How do we find out these credentials?" Her boss spoke.
"You can call their offices and talk to their staff, ask for reccommendations," the woman replied.
"There are only two doctors within New York State who are on that list. What if I need a reliable gynocologist?" one woman complained.
"You've had all month to look at the list of doctors and decide. If you opened and read your benefits package which you received in the mail," the woman replied.
Debbie waited until her boss got up to leave. Mary and the salesmen had already left for lunch.
"Want to have lunch?" Debbie offered.
"No, I have to meet with my boss," her boss said nervously. "How do you know which criteria these doctors meet? She didn't answer my question very well."
"I know. She expects us to call them and ask their secretaries?" Debbie said.
"If you like the doctor you have, you should keep him. It's hard to find someone you can trust," Debbie said to Mike.
He sat at the typewriter.
"Yeah, I love my doctor. Why pay $300 a year for their insurance? I don't go that much. I can do without it."
"You really should stay with him, because it's hard to find a doctor you like," Debbie advised him, although she did not have a doctor herself since she had moved to New York.
0953D
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
UP Next: CORPORATE LAYOFFS, Part II
Life as we know it? A sign of the times...tough times, indeed. For the next two decades of her life, A Journey in the making...!
CORPORATE LAYOFFS
Thanx for returning, all 21 of you!..."What's the meeting about?"
"None of your business."
"It concerns me more than it concerns you," Mike said, hurt.
Debbie didn't know what the meeting was about either and did not care. They were always having meetings around here, and the less you knew, the better. People always wanted to know her business, blowing up stories when nothing at all was happening. She would rather be the one being talked of, than the one doing the talking. Anything was better than being bored.
When she was given the article to zerox, the truth still did not register in her mind. It was an article in the Wall Street Journal, detailing budget cuts in the financial firm on Wall Street where she worked as a secretary.
"None of your business."
"It concerns me more than it concerns you," Mike said, hurt.
Debbie didn't know what the meeting was about either and did not care. They were always having meetings around here, and the less you knew, the better. People always wanted to know her business, blowing up stories when nothing at all was happening. She would rather be the one being talked of, than the one doing the talking. Anything was better than being bored.
When she was given the article to zerox, the truth still did not register in her mind. It was an article in the Wall Street Journal, detailing budget cuts in the financial firm on Wall Street where she worked as a secretary.
McGrath and O'Connor has completed its reorganization which will result in the elimination of over 1,000 jobs in 1990. The writedown of 200 million to reduce costs will lower earnings for 1989, but will improve the outlook for 1990.
On her lunch hour, she passed bright clothing in window displays announcing Going Out of Business sales. Christmas was only two weeks away.
"Don't move back to Connecticut. You can't even get a job answering the phone," her best friend told her on the phone that night. Military and defense plants were slowly closing down, putting a freeze on hiring which prevented more people from moving to Southern New England.
"Debbie, my apartments have been empty for two months," her mother told her. Her mother had never had any problems with renting her apartments immediately and could pick and choose her tenants carefully. She never asked her mother for cash, but life in New York City was hard. She did not even know anyone well enough to ask to borrow money.
"Keep your mouth shut. Be glad you have a job," her friend Shelley warned her.
"I'm so sick of answering the phone. Everyone is driving me crazy," she complained to Amanda on her lunch hour. "When are they going to promote me?"
She swore at the zerox machine which had stopped in the middle of sorting twenty thirty-page copies.
"Next time you have copies, I'm sending them down to Quick Copy," she shouted impatiently at Mary, the sales manager as her boss passed her desk.
"That's fine with me," Mary said kindly. She knew better than to ignite the fire of her secretary's temper.
Mike had been irritable all day. Was it something she said?
Ring!
"Did you know Mrs. Bears, of Office Training, has been laid off?" Martha said.
"Hello? That's horrible!" Debbie said. She thought of the dear old lady who had taught the two-week program for new secretaries on Wall Street. They laid her off?
That's right, she thought, remembering one morning in the cafeteria breakfast line. Patricia, who worked on the 17th floor where Debbie had been offered a job, had just gotten laid off.
"I'm taking it easy. I'll find something, but I'm not in a hurry," she said.
How could she be so non chalant? If Debbie were ever laid off, what would she do? This was the center of her life. It was her world.
What would it be like, not seeing Mike or Amanda, or the others every weekday morning?
"No more car vouchers! What privilege are they going to take away next?" Debbie said, sitting at her desk, which was strategically placed at the hub of the office, across from the VP's corner office, directly across from the Office Manager's stares, diagonal from her boss's door and close to the other sales representatives and managers. There were only four secretaries, one for each department.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
TOMORROW, THE WORLD
Today, "Fool's Gold" book blog (copyrighted, but never before published)...Tomorrow, the Big Screen...Up Next: Broadway? There's got to be a Broadway Musical in there somewhere!...(there's got to be...! (Denise...Denise Dances...2010) P.S. I can dream, can't I? You're reading this, aren't you? Twenty something hits, last count. THE SHOW MUST GO ON!
Up Next: CORPORATE LAY-OFFS
What will become of Debbie and the High Life she once knew? Will she sacrifice all for LOVE? Will she become rich and famous? Will she die in obscurity, her net worth in $$$ posthumously? Or will she finally settle down and have that normal life she's always dreamed of? Is it possible to have it all? Fame? Fortune? And Love???...* * * :)
ARE YOU DATING ANYONE???...* * * :)
"Do you go out in The City much?"
"Not at all, lately. I can't afford it. Their parents support them."
"I never fell into that situation of having everything paid for, having a disposable income," Crystal said wistfully.
"It's hard to make it in this city."
"So, what's going on?" Crystal breached the reason for this sudden meeting.
"Well, all right, I guess you can read my mind. I do have an ulterior motive but I don't want you to think that's the only reason I asked you to lunch. I would like to start going out to lunch once a week so we can talk about things."
"Is a 6% raise average for this company?" Debbie finally asked.
"Actually it's usually 4 or 5%. Yours was a little bit higher."
"Oh, I got a higher than average raise. It's just that it's hard to make it in this city."
"Our company is going through a lot of changes and we plan to give promotions where they are deserved. We plan on raising the grade level of your job which would be a promotion and then we can pay you more. The 6% was your quarterly raise. I can't tell you when this will happen. The promotions will start with the VP and move down from there. There will be a lot of changes made and I really think you should stay with the company."
They both well knew that she planned to stay with the company.
"Is there something else? I have a feeling you're keeping something from me."
"No, that's about it."
"Are you dating anyone?" Her boss launched the question.
"No," Debbie smiled, as her boss said in afterthought, "I realize that's a personal question."
"I was in a five-year relationship and when it ended last December, I dated a lot. I went out three, four nights a week."
"With a lot of different people?" Debbie asked, her usual air of innocence enveloping her.
Her boss looked her in the eye. She pursed her lips in mock disgust. You well know the answer to that, the gesture seemed to say.
"When the relationship ended, I would sometimes find that I would just have to close my office door and cry."
"Ohhhh, that's terrible," Debbie gasped. She felt her eyes burn with tears.
Crystal went on to speak of friends who were there for her. But her words were lost on Debbie who did not hear what she was saying. Crystal spoke of her father. They did not see eye to eye. Her two sisters were his favorites. Debbie talked of her three sisters, of always having to share the attention with them, or more often, compete with them.
"I've been alone all my life," Debbie admitted for the first time to anyone ever.
"My relationships have all been short. Real short." She smiled slyly. "I don't like the dating scene." She suddenly turned sober.
"Don't do anything you don't want to do. Say, 'I'm uncomfortable with that.'"
You don't understand, Debbie wanted to say. But what was it that her boss did not understand?
Words at a loss, she sadly shrugged instead.
"Well, you're older now. You know what you want."
"I'm not afraid to live in a burnt down building -- I lived in a burned down building, you know - but I'm afraid to date anyone seriously." She shook her head, as if to ask, what do I do? What if...?
"Be tough, be tough," Crystal counseled her.
"It's nice, having the attention of all the guys for once."
"Well, that's good," Crystal said sincerely.
"Aren't guys good to have as friends?"
"Yes, I like to think of them as big brothers."
"Well, it was nice having lunch with you," she smiled at her boss, her friend.
"We'll have to do it again." And she walked out of the sunny restaurant. She hurried back to the phones, while Crystal paid the bill which would eventually be put on her expense account.
"Not at all, lately. I can't afford it. Their parents support them."
"I never fell into that situation of having everything paid for, having a disposable income," Crystal said wistfully.
"It's hard to make it in this city."
"So, what's going on?" Crystal breached the reason for this sudden meeting.
"Well, all right, I guess you can read my mind. I do have an ulterior motive but I don't want you to think that's the only reason I asked you to lunch. I would like to start going out to lunch once a week so we can talk about things."
"Is a 6% raise average for this company?" Debbie finally asked.
"Actually it's usually 4 or 5%. Yours was a little bit higher."
"Oh, I got a higher than average raise. It's just that it's hard to make it in this city."
"Our company is going through a lot of changes and we plan to give promotions where they are deserved. We plan on raising the grade level of your job which would be a promotion and then we can pay you more. The 6% was your quarterly raise. I can't tell you when this will happen. The promotions will start with the VP and move down from there. There will be a lot of changes made and I really think you should stay with the company."
They both well knew that she planned to stay with the company.
"Is there something else? I have a feeling you're keeping something from me."
"No, that's about it."
"Are you dating anyone?" Her boss launched the question.
"No," Debbie smiled, as her boss said in afterthought, "I realize that's a personal question."
"I was in a five-year relationship and when it ended last December, I dated a lot. I went out three, four nights a week."
"With a lot of different people?" Debbie asked, her usual air of innocence enveloping her.
Her boss looked her in the eye. She pursed her lips in mock disgust. You well know the answer to that, the gesture seemed to say.
"When the relationship ended, I would sometimes find that I would just have to close my office door and cry."
"Ohhhh, that's terrible," Debbie gasped. She felt her eyes burn with tears.
Crystal went on to speak of friends who were there for her. But her words were lost on Debbie who did not hear what she was saying. Crystal spoke of her father. They did not see eye to eye. Her two sisters were his favorites. Debbie talked of her three sisters, of always having to share the attention with them, or more often, compete with them.
"I've been alone all my life," Debbie admitted for the first time to anyone ever.
"My relationships have all been short. Real short." She smiled slyly. "I don't like the dating scene." She suddenly turned sober.
"Don't do anything you don't want to do. Say, 'I'm uncomfortable with that.'"
You don't understand, Debbie wanted to say. But what was it that her boss did not understand?
Words at a loss, she sadly shrugged instead.
"Well, you're older now. You know what you want."
"I'm not afraid to live in a burnt down building -- I lived in a burned down building, you know - but I'm afraid to date anyone seriously." She shook her head, as if to ask, what do I do? What if...?
"Be tough, be tough," Crystal counseled her.
"It's nice, having the attention of all the guys for once."
"Well, that's good," Crystal said sincerely.
"Aren't guys good to have as friends?"
"Yes, I like to think of them as big brothers."
"Well, it was nice having lunch with you," she smiled at her boss, her friend.
"We'll have to do it again." And she walked out of the sunny restaurant. She hurried back to the phones, while Crystal paid the bill which would eventually be put on her expense account.
Monday, October 4, 2010
MONEY OR LOVE... OR BOTH?
The need for love hangs in the balance as the lure of money lurks below the surface. What will happen to Debbie next? Will she have to sacrifice her need for love in order to pursue Lady Luck? Will Lady Luck win? Or will Debbie finally have her way, in the way of love?
Up Next
THE BUSINESS LUNCH II
("Are you dating anyone?")
"We will be getting you a Laser printer. Once you have it, all you will have to do is press a button and it will print everyone's letters. They can type their letters from their own computers."
Debbie did not hear what her boss was saying. Her mind raced in a million different directions, full of letters and proposals to type, and office supplies to order for the entire staff.
"Yeah, it should make things a lot easier," she agreed. "The WANG makes much more work for me."
"Yes, it seems like that."
They stepped into the elevator.
"We'll still keep the WANG."
"Well, that's good. I could use it for some things."
Talk turned to the weather.
"I don't usually go out in winter because I hate getting all bundled up."
"I love the cold. I'm a New Englander."
"It's not so much the cold I mind. I just hate getting bundled up."
They mulled over the Japanese menu.
"Do you like Gyoza?"
"I don't know what that is."
"If you remember, I was quite heavy at one time. When I decided to go to Japanese restaurants for lunch, I lost weight."
"I don't know what I want. Let's see," Debbie scanned the menu. "I didn't like Japanese food at first but my roommates only go to Japanese restaurants."
"Do you mean the ones...?" Crystal paused.
"The ones here in Manhattan."
"Do you still go out with them?"
"Yes, but they're in their own world, here in Manhattan. They like the really expensive clubs."
The subject of money was being given a chance to surface...TO BE CONTINUED.
SAILING, Part II
They pushed the rowboat off the sand, into the water.
"Step in the middle or it will tip over," he warned.
"Ooh," I can't believe I'm going sailing. I've wanted to go all summer." The anticipation she felt showed in her voice as she pushed the boat away and stepped into it.
"Watch out for the boom. You don't want to hit your head."
"What kind of boat is this?"
"It's an antique wooden boat."
"Does it have a name?"
"It's a Muskungus Bay Sloop. Sloop, meaning it has two sails, one 20-foot and see the little 16-foot in front?"
"OK, it has a twenty foot sail...wait till I tell them at the office," Debbie said.
"Don't tell them that. Tell them it's a 26-foot boat."
"Mus-ke-gus," she said.
"Muskungus. Like fungus," Rick said.
"Mus-kung-gus. Muskungus Bay Sloop. Wait till I tell them at work!" she crowed.
"Twenty foot sail."
"Tell them it's gaff-rigged." Rick instructed her.
"What's that?"
"See how the sails are crooked, like a square? It doesn't come to a point like other sails. That's why everyone's waving at us." Rick said.
Like a mini pirate ship, Debbie thought. She looked up at the ropes, the wooden boom, the square sails. She wondered how it looked, sailing across the waters as if on its own stormy seas of another century.
It had not been a talkative hour as they tugged the ropes, steered the antique sailboat, letting the ropes out and tugging them in again, ducking the boom as it swayed from side to side. They had the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, the apples and fig cookies that his mother had packed for them, and of course, the hard-boiled eggs.
"Have you ever heard of the Race?" Debbie naively asked.
"Yeah. We're going there," Rick said.
The Race they referred to was the race of water that rushed into Long Island Sound at a given time and then at another interval, rushed back into the Atlantic Ocean from the Sound. The Sound in this way was flushed once or twice daily, Debbie could not remember exactly from her college Oceanology class.
"It can be the worst place of the face of the Earth. You'll have to pour buckets of water out of the boat," Rick smiled.
"Do we have to go there?" Debbie asked faintly.
"You didn't realize you were going with Elizabeth's crazy friend. He seemed normal enough," Rick joked.
They passed Fisher's Island. Debbie wished they could stay right here and turn back. But there was no arguing with the seaworthy challenger, Rick Homesly. This she knew, so she kept quiet, hoping he would change his mind.
"Wait till you tell Elizabeth I took you to the Race. She's always begging me to take her there."
Maybe the Race wouldn't be so bad.
They neared Race Rock. The foghorn on the lighthouse echoed deeply. They sailed on sunny calm waters.
"See it boiling over there? That's the Race. It's not too bad today." They headed right for it.
Debbie closed her eyes. The foghorn moaned, in her ears. It echoed deeply as they passed it.
"Wow," Debbie giggled. "I always heard it from far away. Now it's blasting my ears. FOOM! Not foom," she echoed.
The Race was calm today and so were the waters as they sailed slowly back to the mainland. Debbie rested on the deck for a while as Rick steered. There was nothing to say, this hot lazy afternoon. Rick told her she had even fallen asleep, just for a minute.
As they glided back to shore in the sunset, an ominous noise echoed from the shore.
"Its the end of the world. Who cares?" Debbie giggled. She was on a boat.
She watched sadly as Rick pulled the ropes down with the sails their pirate ship.
"Bye, Muskungus," she said.
SUMMER 1989
DOC. 0711D
SAILING
Denise Hickey
(Note: The curiosity about the kind of boat? In Spring 1987, I worked a brief stint at the Hartford Courant, Classified Advertising, as a Telemarketing Sales Rep, taking incoming calls. This was in the interim from college graduation, ECSU and booking for NYC in May 1987. Callers often listed their cars and boats for sale.)
"Step in the middle or it will tip over," he warned.
"Ooh," I can't believe I'm going sailing. I've wanted to go all summer." The anticipation she felt showed in her voice as she pushed the boat away and stepped into it.
"Watch out for the boom. You don't want to hit your head."
"What kind of boat is this?"
"It's an antique wooden boat."
"Does it have a name?"
"It's a Muskungus Bay Sloop. Sloop, meaning it has two sails, one 20-foot and see the little 16-foot in front?"
"OK, it has a twenty foot sail...wait till I tell them at the office," Debbie said.
"Don't tell them that. Tell them it's a 26-foot boat."
"Mus-ke-gus," she said.
"Muskungus. Like fungus," Rick said.
"Mus-kung-gus. Muskungus Bay Sloop. Wait till I tell them at work!" she crowed.
"Twenty foot sail."
"Tell them it's gaff-rigged." Rick instructed her.
"What's that?"
"See how the sails are crooked, like a square? It doesn't come to a point like other sails. That's why everyone's waving at us." Rick said.
Like a mini pirate ship, Debbie thought. She looked up at the ropes, the wooden boom, the square sails. She wondered how it looked, sailing across the waters as if on its own stormy seas of another century.
It had not been a talkative hour as they tugged the ropes, steered the antique sailboat, letting the ropes out and tugging them in again, ducking the boom as it swayed from side to side. They had the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, the apples and fig cookies that his mother had packed for them, and of course, the hard-boiled eggs.
"Have you ever heard of the Race?" Debbie naively asked.
"Yeah. We're going there," Rick said.
The Race they referred to was the race of water that rushed into Long Island Sound at a given time and then at another interval, rushed back into the Atlantic Ocean from the Sound. The Sound in this way was flushed once or twice daily, Debbie could not remember exactly from her college Oceanology class.
"It can be the worst place of the face of the Earth. You'll have to pour buckets of water out of the boat," Rick smiled.
"Do we have to go there?" Debbie asked faintly.
"You didn't realize you were going with Elizabeth's crazy friend. He seemed normal enough," Rick joked.
They passed Fisher's Island. Debbie wished they could stay right here and turn back. But there was no arguing with the seaworthy challenger, Rick Homesly. This she knew, so she kept quiet, hoping he would change his mind.
"Wait till you tell Elizabeth I took you to the Race. She's always begging me to take her there."
Maybe the Race wouldn't be so bad.
They neared Race Rock. The foghorn on the lighthouse echoed deeply. They sailed on sunny calm waters.
"See it boiling over there? That's the Race. It's not too bad today." They headed right for it.
Debbie closed her eyes. The foghorn moaned, in her ears. It echoed deeply as they passed it.
"Wow," Debbie giggled. "I always heard it from far away. Now it's blasting my ears. FOOM! Not foom," she echoed.
The Race was calm today and so were the waters as they sailed slowly back to the mainland. Debbie rested on the deck for a while as Rick steered. There was nothing to say, this hot lazy afternoon. Rick told her she had even fallen asleep, just for a minute.
As they glided back to shore in the sunset, an ominous noise echoed from the shore.
"Its the end of the world. Who cares?" Debbie giggled. She was on a boat.
She watched sadly as Rick pulled the ropes down with the sails their pirate ship.
"Bye, Muskungus," she said.
SUMMER 1989
DOC. 0711D
SAILING
Denise Hickey
(Note: The curiosity about the kind of boat? In Spring 1987, I worked a brief stint at the Hartford Courant, Classified Advertising, as a Telemarketing Sales Rep, taking incoming calls. This was in the interim from college graduation, ECSU and booking for NYC in May 1987. Callers often listed their cars and boats for sale.)
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