Thursday, May 20, 2010

Live Today

She eyes him contemptuously.  His need to constantly worry about tomorrow still pisses her off.  She impatiently shoves the steaming mug at him.  Of all the customers to have to deal with today.  Her own pain in the ass soon to be ex-husband!  Mr. Live Like There's No Tomorrow.

"Why are you here?"  She can barely keep her tone civil.  His clothes are starched and ironed, reflecting his anal retentiveness. His black hair slicked back, wind will not make one hair move out of place, rigid.  Like the extra long re-bar stuck up his . . . She sighs and tops off his coffee.  Notices his manicure and curls her fingers in securely around the coffee pot, tucking the other hand in frilly apron pocket.

"Meredith,  I told you, I can't pay you this month.  I had to buy new tires for the bike. . .and my kids need haircuts, school clothes. . ."  He stops his whining to stare hopefully in her wintry blues and then grimaces as he accidentally brushes against her swollen belly.

She steps back, feeling sickened that she ever let him touch her.  Meredith avoids his amber eyes and concentrates on the weak, starting to double-up chin.  "Look, Jake, I don't give a rat's ass about any of your expenses.  You made a promise, it's also court-ordered.  Give me the check now.  Let's keep the lawyers out of this one.  Or you'll really be broke."  Jerk was never broke, he was the Assistant D.A. for cryin' out loud!  He's also going political, wants to be Mayor.

He pouts unbecomingly and pulls out the checkbook. "Let me write it for a thousand less.  Please Mere, I still have to. . .:"

A hiss of pain escapes her lips as the Braxton-Hicks contractions hit.  He scoots back in alarm.  A laugh and gasp all in one at his reaction.  You would think she is carrying Satan's child.  Of course, he kept denying it was his, protesting that he's fixed.  Until the DNA test, that is.  Take that Mr. Mayor Wanna-Be!

He hands her the hastily scrawled check and flees the diner.  Crumpling the offending rectangle, screaming after him that it's not the right amount.  Flipping her off, he gets into his charcoal gray Mercedes S-Class.  Pulls out of the handicap parking space and hits the cop car behind him.  The customers' swiveling heads and expressions. . .priceless.  Sitting down triumphantly and beaming at her friends, now walking towards her from all corners.  They wave the camera phones back at her with matching smiles.  This'll be on YouTube in a couple of minutes. 

She smiles, muttering, "Nothing like planning revenge for tomorrow and getting it today." 

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Beguiled by Night

I wait, barely containing my excitement.  I realize in amusement that I'm holding my breathe.  I must be turning blue! I release the air slowly, watching the vapors of my exhalation rise in the dim light of the street lamp.  Idly, wondering if my spirit would look the same to my loved ones as I die.

Cancer infests my body.  The doctors attempted every treatment known to man and for whatever reason, I just couldn't go into remission. I had seven years of torture and only three months free.  I can feel it now.  The cells that turned Benedict Arnold are back with a vengeance, a bigger invading army, and this time, they are on the winning side.  I decided, tonight, no more.  I will live until I could live no more.  I had 29 good years in, before my body betrayed me.

In the deep dark, recesses of my pocket, my gloved hands crumple the "Kick the Bucket" list I had made when first diagnosed.  I originally had refused treatment then, but my family pleaded that my passive aggressive suicide was a sin and the ultimate selfish act.   I didn't think so.  I justified it with the idea that before there were doctors people died from cancer, so why couldn't I?  But I caved and began treatments that made me wish I were dead.

The street lamp flickers, I can hear the buzz off the electrical poles.  There's a faint smell of ozone in this cool spring night.  I'm giddy with excitement.  Something so simple, something that I had never allowed myself to do because of the Southern Baptist faith. God is watching you.  God will reward your good behavior, your faith.  Good ol' guilt factor.  Pray to be healed child. . .sick again. . .well pray harder.

Checking my watch, it's time.  I can see the people filing in.  Bouncers clicking the numbers.  The music starting, bass throbbing its promise of orgasmic pleasures. I swallow the bluish-white powder.  Taking my place in line, and loving the anonymity. For tonight, I plan on ending it well.

I did!  I look down, smiling at myself.  Sprawled out on the smooth, cool dance floor.  Memories of disco ball colors flashing, lighting up the glitter across so much bare skin. The close contact of grinding, bumping bodies, male and female arousing each other to desperation.  My stranger that I allowed myself a quickie with in the bathroom stalls was leaning over me, screaming for help.  I almost feel sorry for him, but I knew he'd get over it, after all, he didn't know me.

I feel a lessening of pressure. The silver cord connecting me to my body severs. I float gently untethered into the night, then vanish like the vapors of my exhalation, once beguiled by the night.

Sister's Piano

In the dark
you sway
fingers caressing
eyes closed
soul open
aura flames
candles flicker
moves the world away
possessing you
listen for
the pain
the joy
of who
you are