Deer, oh deer.

I drained the last of a cup of coffee and carried all my stuff to the car.   Larry was off to an early appointment; I was just heading out to the office.

Backing out of the garage, I turned and headed out the driveway when something to my right caught my eye.  Ah, yes.  My husband mentioned there was a deer hit last night and it ended up in our yard….this must be the one.  So sad.

I stopped, rolled down the window and was amazed that the deer could be in that curled position, almost looking comfortable, after being hit by a car or truck.  Then the animal raised its head to look me right in the eye.

The deer cocked his head, huge brown eyes staring at me.  I panicked!  What am I supposed to do now?  Oh, my gosh!  That deer isn’t dead….he’s hurt.  It’s too big to take to the vet, and it might have some real objections to me struggling to tuck him into a convertible, anyway.  

Sitting there, as we stared each other down, my racing mind arrived at the disturbing fact that there really wasn’t anything I could do.  This beautiful creature had stepped into the path of the four wheeled world; there was nothing I could do to help him now.

Feeling sad and a little nauseous I took my foot off the brake and rolled out of the driveway.  

Once at work I texted my husband and called a neighbor.  The neighbor is a hunter, I thought he would know what to do.  Of course he did; the highway patrol came to put the animal down and our neighbor took the deer to have it processed.

I guess that’s not all that different from sitting in a tree stand with a gun or a bow and arrow, but looking in an animal’s eyes head on would be a deal breaker for me.   I could never shoot an animal unless it was to save my own life; I certainly couldn’t put an end to his to make a coat rack out of his antlers.

This squeamishness isn’t new for me.  As a child I watched my grandmother kill chickens and my grandfather butcher hogs.  I can remember looking for a glass in the farm kitchen and encountering a pig’s head on a counter waiting to be cooked down into ‘head cheese’.   Those experiences made me what I am today…a very queasy meat eater.

In a world without hot dogs and bacon I would be a vegetarian; I really don’t care much about any other meat product.   I eat meat….but not if it is in ANY recognizable body part.

I eat chicken, but only in pieces-parts.   I would starve before I could choke down a leg or a wing.  I don’t make ‘whole’ chicken or turkey.  Sorry…that looks like an autopsy to me.  But skinned chicken breasts don’t look like anything, and I haven’t a clue where a pork chop might be located on the pig.  Needless to say I am the woman who never looks at the diagram in the meat market.

A few years ago my phobia was put to the test.  I had assumed responsibility for some radio stations in another market; my first outing to meet the public with some of my staff would be at the local county fair.

Arriving at the kickoff event I was taken to a big tent where tables were set up and a big spread of food was laid out.  I was introduced to the crowd from the front of the room and the gentleman who presented me to the group said, “And now we will let the guest of honor be the first through the line.”

I thank him, smiled, and with plate in hand I started through the food line.   People had lined up behind me and we were chatting as I moved along.

At some point someone behind the food table got my attention; I turned to answer the person and there, stretched out among garnishes and fruit was a huge hog.  The man was asking me if I wanted ham.   I couldn’t tell him the hog with the apple in its mouth was making me feel faint….that would have been rude.  Of course so would ending up face down in the Jell-O mold, I suppose.

I thanked him, said no, and doubled down on the scalloped potatoes.

So here is my culinary line in the sand:  I am tolerant of shredded, ground, diced meats that look like nothing from which they were harvested.   I am squeamish to the point of distraction and I do not apologize for that fact.  I am not strong enough to be a vegetarian, but I am a very persnickety carnivore.

And so, as I drove out of the driveway that morning I had a strong suspicion the pretty deer in my yard was about to find a final resting place in someone’s freezer.    The only thing I knew for sure was it certainly would not be mine.

There are some things that just haunt a person…..locking eyes with the food chain is one of those.

 

                                                          Life is Good

 

 

NINETEEN:

Carolyn finally pulled into her driveway just before midnight.    Tired, but in a good mood, she climbed out of her car.  

Seeing Jenn and her Mom together made Carolyn homesick for her own family.  She and Jeff hadn’t been home for almost four months now; she was going to insist they plan a long weekend very soon.

Even though they argued, Carolyn knew Jenn and her Mom loved each other more than anything; she wasn’t the least bit surprised when Mrs. Keeler showed up.    Chuckling, she remembered the look on Jenn’s face as her Mom tucked her into bed, fluffed her pillows and adjusted the sound on the TV for the fourth time.   Seeing that her friend was in more than just capable hands, Carolyn said her goodnights to make the thirty minute trip home. 

As she entered the house from the garage an excited JuJu met her at the door.  The poor little thing hadn’t been out for more than twelve hours; she wiggled with happiness because her mommy was finally home. 

Carolyn opened the sliding glass door in the kitchen and JuJu raced out into the yard.   Opening the front door, she pulled the mail out of the mailbox, then returned to the kitchen to spread it out on the counter.

JuJu came back into the kitchen, her toenails tick-ticking on the stone floor as she ran to her pink bed.   She snuffled along the edge of the bed, then thrust her nose under the pillow and finally came out with an uneaten dog treat.

Carolyn bent over to scratch JuJu behind the ears, then her eyes went to the treat JuJu had placed adoringly at her feet.  Picking it up, she turned it over in her hand.  “Now where in the hell…JuJu, where did you get this?”  It was a quarter sized round brown treat.  It looked nothing like the small brightly colored biscuits she always bought for the dog. 

As if in answer, JuJu ran back to her bed to push her nose under the pillow.   Once again she pulled out a dog treat.   Carolyn slowly walked over and picked up the pink pillow.  She counted two dozen of the strange treats.  She had obviously found JuJu’s stash; the question was where had they come from?

Carolyn’s mind searched for a logical explanation, but try as she might she couldn’t come up with one.   She was still on her knees looking at the dog bed full strange biscuits when the phone rang.

TWENTY

Jeff was packing his second bag, his cell phone caught between his shoulder and chin, when Carolyn finally answered the phone.   Tomorrow morning after breakfast he was heading home and he planned to put everything he didn’t need for tonight in the car.

“Sorry to be calling so late, baby.   Did I wake you?” he said.

He heard Carolyn take a deep breath before she said, “No, I just got home from Jenn’s, but Jeff, something’s wrong here.”  She proceeded to tell him about JuJu bringing her the dog treat, then finding more under the pillow in the dog’s bed.  Jeff could tell how frightened she was by the quiver in her voice.

“Honey, why don’t you go spend the night at Jenn’s house.   I’ll be home by noon tomorrow at the latest.   I don’t think there’s a thing in the world to be worried about but till we have time to figure this out together why don’t you just go over there,” Jeff tried to soothe her frazzled nerves as he talked calmly to her.

“Jeff, someone has been in this house.  I don’t know who or how, but someone has been here!  We’ve never given JuJu anything like these things, how else could she have gotten them?”

She considered going back to Jennifer’s house, but she knew Mrs. Keeler would be spending the night in the spare bedroom.  She wasn’t scared enough to spend the night sleeping on a couch, at least not yet.  Taking a deep breath she decided the best thing to do would be to calm down and get some rest.   Tomorrow…..Jeff and I will worry about this tomorrow.

“I’m just going to take JuJu upstairs with me and go to bed.   I’ll lock us in and take a sleeping pill, honey.   I’ll be alright,” she was beginning to feel a little silly about the whole thing. “Just stay on the phone with me till I check things out, okay?”

Jeff had finished packing his second bag and was reaching for his coat as he said, “Sure baby, I’ll stay on the phone all night if you want me to.”  He had already made the decision to head home.   He was four and a half hours away, and with a quick stop for coffee and gas he could be there in five hours.  

 CHAPTER TWENTY ONE...........

Carolyn tucked her purse under one arm and JuJu under the other as she headed up the steps with the cordless phone clutched in her hand. She pushed open the door to her darkened bedroom, reaching in to flip on the light switch.

Light flooded the room. JuJu tried to wiggle free as she stepped in, looked around, and closed the door. She didn’t want to chase JuJu through the rest of the house, but she wasn’t about to lock the door until she had satisfied herself that things were okay. Jeff kept up a dialog about his day as Carolyn started her inspection of the suite.

She finally set JuJu down and the dog bounded onto the bed, snuffling all over the bedspread like a hunting dog on a rabbit trail. Carolyn ignored her as she opened the closet doors, looked under the bed and pushed both bathroom doors open. From time to time she would stop, put the cordless phone against her shoulder, and just listen for any strange sounds…..nothing. After turning on every light and looking in every potential hiding place she satisfied herself that there was nothing to fear. Locking the bedroom door she signed with relief.

“Okay, everything is alright up here,”Carolyn said. “I don’t know; maybe she’s stealing food from the neighbor’s dog or something, do you think?”

Jeff replied, “If she is we need to teach her to bring home money instead."

Carolyn gave a weak chuckle as she felt the coil of fear in her stomach slowly begin to unwind.

"I don’t have a clue, KO, but I promise we will figure it out and we’ll get that burglar alarm installed before I have to leave town again.” Jeff didn’t tell her that he was on his way home, that he’d likely be there before she woke up.

“Well, JuJu and I are going to bed. Thanks for talking me off the ledge sweetheart,” Carolyn said.

“I’ll be home before you know it, now get some sleep. Tomorrow we’ll go buy you something pretty,” Jeff said. That was his 'I’m trying to make you feel better, baby' phrase, and she smiled.

“I don’t need anything, just you. Did I tell you how much I love you?”

“No, but you can show me when I get home. Get some rest, baby. Sweet dreams,” Jeff said.

He wished he could shake the uneasy feeling that nagged and pushed him to drive all night to get to her. Now, with a full tank of gas and two styrofoam cups of hot coffee secured in the cup holders, he turned onto the highway. He set the cruise control for 80, hoping to buy a little time by stepping up his speed. It was one a.m.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO...........

Marco was working hard, loading trucks as an iPod filled his head with country music. Railroads, beer joints and honky tonk women, all the songs he liked. The other guys talked and joked with one another, but always Marco kept to himself. He seldom talked to anyone, and he knew most of the men he worked with thought he was an odd duck. If they only knew.

By three a.m. the work was nearly done, and Marco’s boss came by to tell him he could leave early if he wanted to. Since Marco had been good enough to work on his day off it was only right to give him the first chance to take off if he wanted to. Marco jumped at the chance; ten minutes later he was in his car heading to his house on Brainard Road.

Half way to the house Marco pulled into the lot of a 24 hour grocery store. He knew Carolyn loved flowers because she brought some home every week when she bought groceries. Several times he had even changed the water or replaced some flowers in the vase when she had forgotten.

Mario went into the store to check out the floral department. To his right there were coolers of fresh cut flowers, pots of small rose bushes, and beautifully colored orchids. Last week Carolyn had carnations, so Mario decided on a pot of orchids. They would last longer, and it would be the first thing in the house that she would know he had put there for her.

Back in the car Marco debated whether or not he should stop at his apartment for a shower or just go on to the house. He imagined crawling into the big bed beside Carolyn, maybe spooning into her as she slept.

He decided to freshen up at the house before he headed up to bed with his wife. Now that he had made the decision that this was the night to share the plan with Carolyn he was impatient to get there. He would lie beside her and wait until she awoke to find him there. She would be surprised at first, but he knew their tie was so strong that the surprise wouldn’t last long. Once she understood how well he knew her, once she realized they were meant to be together and it had always been that way, she would look at him with new eyes…..loving eyes. Marco’s skin tingled with excitement as he got back on the road. He was headed home at three thirty a.m.

Familiarity Breeds Content

In one corner of our dining room sits a big, wooden trunk.  The arched top and sides are glass, allowing you to peer down into the trunk where my Grandmother’s colorful quilts hang.

 When I was a little girl there was hardly a time that my Grandmother didn’t have a quilt started.   She was either cutting up pieces, sewing them together, or sitting at the quilting frame making tiny stiches to tack the back and front together with the cotton batting sandwiched between the layers.

 

Every quilt she made was completely different.  Some started with new material, a yard of this, a piece of that.  Some were elaborate and very specific in design, but my favorites are the ones that she created from a hodgepodge of old clothes.  Those quilts are almost like thumbing through an old photo album.  Here is a piece of a favorite dress with a pattern of violets, a blouse I remember with poufy sleeves and pretty buttons, a skirt that was ruined with a spill but has now been repurposed.   All these things were fodder for a quilt top, and all of them brought back memories even then as you snuggled beneath them or made the bed the next morning.

My most cherished quilts are the ones she made before I was born.   Mom brought me home from the hospital in one of Grandma’s handmade quilts.   Because I was born in the days when you guessed the sex of your baby on how “high” you carried or how much heart burn you suffered, my grandmother made two quilts.   One is a riot of predominantly blue pieces, the fabric as varied as the old clothes from which they came.

The second, a pink and white quilt, matches in texture so I believe she must have purchased the fabrics especially for the quilt.  How I wish I had been wise enough to ask her questions about these two quilts.   I was the first grandchild, and I know how I felt when I was waiting for the birth of my first.  I should have compared those two experiences with her when I had the chance; I didn’t.

As I grew these two quilts cradled my baby dolls, covered my teddy bears, and survived into my adulthood.  The blue quilt was in a box in storage when a mouse decided it was great nesting material and helped himself.  When I discovered the damage I had so carelessly allowed I didn’t have the heart to throw the quilt away.   I was fortunate enough to find a lady who turned the usable pieces into a teddy bear, and I still have it.  The pink and white baby quilt hangs in the trunk with a couple of other large quilts Grandma made.

My wedding gift from my Grandparents was a pink and white checkerboard quilt with all the states and flowers hand embroidered on the white squares.  All these years later I still have it, but the fact that it was well used is apparent.   Someday I want to make the much needed repairs, combine my work with hers,  and pass it on to one of my children.

As she grew older my Grandmother made small “doll quilts” and gave them away as gifts.  They were made on her sewing machine, they were simpler and made from fabric scraps she bought or was given.  Every small child she came to know got one.   A colorful stack of them perched on top of a cabinet in the back bedroom.  It always gave her such pleasure to slip out of the room to bring one of the colorful doll quilts back to a tiny pair of hands clutching a baby doll.   

I’ve been so lucky all my life to have been given things that still decorate my life.   Quilts, my great grandmother’s kitchen cabinet, a pitcher that sat on my great grandfather’s table every morning, a glass butter churn given to me by my mother in law.  All of these are  things whose value is only apparent to me.   It’s now my job to tell the stories about where they came from and pass on their worth to my children as the years go by.  

                               The only real value in any possession is the memory it inspires.

                                                                             Life is Good   

          

                     


CHAPTER FIFTEEN......................

Friday dawned cold and sunny. Carolyn pulled on a pair of brown leather boots with pencil legged brown slacks and a soft cashmere sweater in a pumpkin orange color.

Wielding a washcloth, she did a quick clean-up of her bathroom vanity. Spritzing the mirror with window cleaner, she reluctantly wiped the “I love you” written in her pink lipstick from the lower right corner. When she closed the door her bathroom was back in order.

Her gym bag was still in the car from the day before, so she headed off for her workout, refreshed from a good night’s sleep and happy in the knowledge that Jeff would be home tomorrow.

She called Jennifer’s cell phone, knowing her friend would be up before the crack of dawn even in a hospital. Jenn answered on the first ring, “You’re on your way to the gym….” she said.

“Yep. And how about you? Did you make potty like a good girl so you can go home today?”

“Don't tell Nurse Ratched, but I faked it.  I told her I did, she told me I can go home, but I haven't seen a real doctor yet," Jenn said.   “Want me to call you later?”

“Yeah, do that. Jeff comes home tomorrow, but I can bring dinner over tonight if you’re going to be home. Is your Mom coming to stay for a few days?”

Jenn groaned, ”Oh, God……I hope not! I’d rather go through another surgery without an anesthetic.  I've tried to convince her I can take care of myself. It was an appendectomy, not a heart transplant for cripes sake!”

“Look at it this way, it’s a chance to get your oven cleaned,” Carolyn chuckled.

“My oven doesn’t need to be cleaned. The only thing I ever use it for is to store panty hose and you know it. Ah…..here comes Dr. Feel-good! Talk to you later!”

Jenn hung up as Carolyn turned right at the bottom of Brainard Road. Her phone rang again, and she assumed it was Jenn calling right back. 

“Hello….”  She could tell by the sound that there was someone on the line, “Hello? ", her exasperation boiled over. " Hey, jerk! You have a wrong number, and it’s been the wrong damned number for weeks.  Look at the number you just called and don't ever call it again!”, and she turned her phone off, tossing it into the waste bag dangling from her radio dial. Some people were so inconsiderate!

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.................

Marco watched Carolyn’s car turn out of sight, and he headed back to his house. He adjusted the rear view mirror so he could smile at himself. “Someday we will laugh about these calls,” he said aloud. “She’ll understand once I explain it all to her; we'll crawl into bed at our house laugh about it together.”

Parking in his usual spot and making his usual entry into the basement, Marco took a bag to his hiding place. It contained a bottle of wine he planned to put in the fridge sometime this weekend. Carolyn’s husband wasn’t due home for several days, and before that happened he was going to have a heart to heart talk with her to decide what to do about Jeff when he finally returned.

The accident Marco planned for Mr. Robertson and the illness he devised for Mrs. Catron had both worked well enough to give him confidence in his ability to get rid of Jeff efficiently. But Marco didn’t feel as generous when he thought about Jeff.

“Maybe he needs to suffer,” Marco thought. He knew Jeff was also a gym member, and he let the idea of shooting him in the parking lot roll through his mind. It would have to be the gym or leaving his office, away from the house and in a place Marco could see the man’s face as he slowly understood he was about to die.

Marco wanted to look in Jeff's eyes as he came to the knowledge that he was assuming Jeff's life. “And yes, he is going to suffer,” Marco thought, “I am going to enjoy teaching him that he should never have touched what belonged to me.”

In the kitchen Marco gave JuJu her customary treat then took the stairs two at a time as he headed up to Carolyn’s bedroom for a nap.

Entering the cream colored room he was enveloped by Carolyn’s scent; excited by the thought that she had been standing in this very room less than half an hour before. He could almost see her here, stepping out of the shower, making a towel wrapped walk to her vanity to comb her hair.

He opened Carolyn’s bathroom door and noticed she had cleaned his “I love you” off the mirror. Silly girl, you don’t want to forget how much I love you! 

Whistling, he walked to her vanity and chose one of the four lipsticks in a tiny pink basket. Returning to the bathroom, he once again wrote “I love you” on the lower right hand corner of the frameless mirror. This would be their daily ritual when they were married, he knew.

He smiled into the mirror, running a hand through his unruly black hair then pointing his finger at his own reflection, “You are one good looking devil, you know that?”

Marco urinated in the toilet, closing the lid but again leaving it unflushed,  then went to stretch out on the big bed. He set the alarm on his watch for noon, then sank back and drifted into his customary black, dreamless sleep.


CHAPTER SEVENTEEN............

By ten o’clock Carolyn was standing in the doorway to Wally’s office. 

“Wally, would it be alright if I took half a day off today?  My friend Jennifer just called and she needs a ride home from the hospital.  They’re releasing her about eleven thirty today,” Carolyn asked.

“As long as you have preliminary plans on my desk by noon Monday I don’t care where you do them or how you get them done.   If that works into taking half a day off, go ahead,” Wally’s pale eyes blinked behind the huge black rimmed glasses. 

“That won’t be a problem, sorry for the short notice,” she said.

Wally stood and walked around from behind his desk.  His short sleeved blue shirt showed sweat stains half way down his sides.  His big belly led the way as he jiggled toward Carolyn.   “I know you won’t let me down on this account.  You’re a smart cookie,” he smiled.

For one horrible second Carolyn thought he might be coming on to her.  She was relieved when she heard Marion’s voice behind her.

“Is that the newest Play Land Pools executive I see there?   Congratulations, Carolyn,” Marion’s voice had a musical quality to it that wasn’t entirely attributable to Carolyn’s relief. 

The two women hugged, and Carolyn explained about taking the half day to pick up Jennifer and get her settled at home.

“She and her Mom had a big set-to about whether or not the patient needed twenty four hour mothering and Jennifer won,” Carolyn laughed.

“Good thing she was arguing with her Mom and not mine,” Marion said.  “They’d have to put me back in the hospital if I argued with her!”

The two laughing women walked to the hallway, Marion’s arm protectively over Carolyn’s shoulders.  

Wally sat back down at his desk thinking, “Those two look just as good leaving as they do coming into a room.”   He pulled out is big white handkerchief and mopped his sweaty forehead.

                            CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.............

At eleven forty five Carolyn walked through the door of her best friend's hospital room.  Jennifer was dressed, but stretched out on the bed as if the effort had exhausted her.

“You look a little pale there, girl,” Carolyn said.

“I didn’t think it would hurt so bad, but dressing was a bloody blue bitch,” Jenn groaned.

“Are you certain you don’t want your Mom to stay a few days, hon?   I could play dumb and call her….tell her how pale and tired you look and how cranky you are.   She’d be back here in a shot.”

“Naw.  I can do this; I’ll just take it a little at a time.  Mom will be over tomorrow anyway, mad or not, and we both know it,” Jennifer pushed herself into a sitting position, then slowly to her feet.

Carolyn rang for the nurse, and between the two of them they got Jennifer, who didn't fight them when the nurse insisted she get into a wheel chair,  two over night bags, four floral arrangements and two pillows from her bed at home down to the car.  Once Jennifer was buckled into the passenger seat and her things piled in the trunk Carolyn got in and started the car.

“I’ve got a prescription and I need a couple of things from the grocery, do you mind?” Jennifer asked.

“You kidding?  I’ll put you in a grocery cart and off we’ll go,” Carolyn laughed.

By two thirty the women were pulling into Jennifer’s complex.   After three trips from car to apartment Carolyn finally had everything in the kitchen.  It took another hour to empty bags, put things away and get Jennifer settled on the couch.

“Now for my famous toasted cheese and tomato soup extravaganza,” Carolyn said.   “Thank God for Campbell’s soup.” 

Jeff and Carolyn believed in sharing the chores of married life, and he had taken on the cooking.  Carolyn had neither the patience nor the talent for it, so her kitchen repertoire was limited to four things; scrambled eggs, toasted cheese and tomato soup, or toast.   That provided a food group for every meal and, when fleshed out with 'fruit on the bottom' yogurt,  it was enough to feed Carolyn while Jeff was away.   

Jeff laughed about it, leering at her, grabbing her fanny and saying in his best dirty old man voice, “Well….no woman is good in EVERY room.”

After she had taken a pain pill and finished her soup and sandwich meal, Jenn yawned and stretched out on the couch.  She was almost asleep when the doorbell rang; Carolyn looked out the kitchen window to see Jenn’s Mom carrying a cake and smiling into the peephole in the door. 

“Mrs. Keeler!  We were just wondering if you were going to come over,” Carolyn grinned, throwing the door wide.  “What kind of cake is that?”

Sue Keeler breezed into the room as if she and Jenn had not just had a shouting match that morning.  “It’s red velvet, and if you’ll put the coffee pot on I’ll cut this sucker.” 

She dropped two recyclable bags on the table as she spoke. “There’s a pound of coffee in that bag there, don’t use that awful stuff Jennifer buys,” she ordered.

Carolyn set to work, grinning at Jennifer as she poured water into the coffee pot.

Jennifer lay back on the couch wearing the resigned look of an inmate who had just been strapped into the electric chair and was just waiting for the hood to be placed over his head.

She sighed, resigned to her plight, and said, “There’s coffee creamer in the fridge, Mom.  And I want whipped cream on my cake.”

On the Radio....

The word “surprise” is defined this way:  a brief emotional state experienced as the result of an unexpected event.  

As a rule I’ve not been a big fan of surprises, I think that comes from years of running a business.  More often than not when an employee “surprises” you it turns out to be of a less than desirable nature.  Over the years it has a conditioning effect on you; eventually you may come to believe surprises aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.

That wasn’t the case this week when I got a call from someone with whom I’ve worked  as an advertising client for a good many years both in my last incarnation in radio, and now with Heart of Ohio Magazine.  While I haven’t sold advertising in many years I have worked with people who were clients and some who were not, to help navigate the treacherous and confusing waters of advertising.  As one client told me many years ago, “We all know we’re wasting 50% of our advertising budget, we just don’t know which 50% that is”.

I was plunking away on my computer when my cellphone rang and it was my client who said, “Di, are you going to be out my way today?  I’ve got something for you.”   I told him I surely could be and hopped into my car and took off.  I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about…but then that’s the nature of a surprise.

I got to his store and he met me at the front counter.  We chatted a bit and then my curiosity got the best of me.  “So, what can I do for you?” I asked. 

“Well, when you were here last you had your eye on something in my office,” he said.

“I did?”  My memory was a black hole.

“Yep, and here it is,” his grin was huge as he turned from me and pulled an old radio out from behind the counter. 

Our previous conversation came rushing back to me.  Some time ago we were sitting in his office when I saw this radio on a shelf; I told him about one I had owned a long time ago.  When I was a little girl my Dad gave me a radio just like his. It was a Westinghouse that Dad purchased at work with his discount; it fit perfectly into the book case headboard of my bed. 

I was probably eleven or twelve, but I remember many very late nights when I stayed awake to dial up and down the AM band, listening to DJ’s far away and close at hand.  Even though there were no female voices I dreamed about someday being “on the radio”.   I spent many late night hours peering at the dimly lit dial on that radio, learning the dial positions of WKYC, WOWO, CKLW and other favorites.  WMAN was always playing in my Mom’s kitchen, and I remember waiting outside WCLW on McPherson Street for the DJ to come to the side door to take our requests to play Purple People Eater.  All the neighborhood kids thought those DJ’s were rock stars.   I didn’t know it then, but that old radio was offering me a peek into my future;  I spent 32 years in radio as a copywriter, on air, in sales and finally in management.

I was speechless as I stood looking at the radio in his hands.  “I’d have given it to you that day, but it didn’t work.  I finally found the father of a friend of mine who repairs these old radios; it works just fine now,” he said as he put the radio into my hands.  “When I got it back I knew it was time to give this radio to you.  To me it’s just an old radio, but to you it’s a memory.”

Sometimes a surprise is so special that you just don’t have the proper words to thank someone.  This is like that.  Looking at this radio reminds me of so many good things; it’s like finding a part of my past.  My bet is that this radio is something ninety nine people out of a hundred would pass over in a thrift store; to me it is an absolute treasure. 

The thoughtfulness behind the gift and the unselfishness touches me.  How kind this person is to have given me this gift.  He says I’ve helped him with his business over the years; I say it has been a wonderful investment for both of us.

Thank you to my thoughtful friend for restoring a memory from my past and reminding me that surprises can still be wonderful.

                                                          Life is Good

 

 

 

STALK: Chapters eleven through thirteen

                               

CHAPTER ELEVEN.............

It was five thirty when the phone on Carolyn’s desk rang.  “This is Carolyn….”

“Carolyn, can you come to my office?”  It was Wally, so of course she could come to his office.

“Be right there.”  She had already shut down her computer and had been gathering her things to head to the gym.   The thought crossed her mind that he was calling her in to tell her the Play Land account was going to Gary.  “Shit.  That’s it; I’m getting the ‘best man for the job’ speech again.   Strange the best man for the job is always a man,” she muttered under her breath.

Carolyn’s heels clicked on the tile floor as she walked quickly toward Wally’s office.  Pushing open the door to his outer office she noted that Marion’s stylish white desk was empty.  Tapping on the frosted glass door to Wally’s inner sanctum she heard him cough, then “Come on in…..come in.”   His voice was thick with a head cold that seemed to plague him at least six months out of every year. 

“Carolyn….come in.”  Wally wore thick, black rimmed glasses that magnified his watery blue eyes, making him even more unattractive.   At least a hundred pounds overweight, his rubbery rolls jiggled when he moved.  It was obvious Wally didn’t own an undershirt, because the curly black hair of his big belly was pressed flat under the thin, white short-sleeved shirt that threatened to explode in a spray of shirt buttons.   

“Please, have a seat,” he gestured to a chair in front of his shiny oak desk.   Wally’s office was in sharp contrast to his personal appearance.  He moved around behind the desk and sank into his big brown leather executive chair.   “I wanted to tell you this myself.  (Wait for it…)  I know how much you’ve put into the Play Land account already.  (Here it comes….here it comes….) I went over your proposal again after you left this morning and I was thoroughly impressed," he sniffed loudly and cleared his throat with a phlegm rattling "whoompa".
  
"I’m giving you the account….it’s your chance to shine, and you have earned it,” he mopped his forehead with a huge white handkerchief, then buried his face in to blow his nose in a loud, honking expulsion of air.

Dead silence.   Not a whimper.   Ten seconds passed....and then, “Wally, you’re giving me the account?   Honest to God?” Carolyn’s voice was a croak.  Wally simply blinked at her behind his thick glasses, his watery eyes registered his head cold induced misery.

The only thing she could think to say was, “Now ain’t that a kick in the head?”

                       CHAPTER TWELVE................

Jennifer Keeler reclined in her hospital bed with the tray table over her lap as Carolyn came barreling through the door.   “I got it….I got it….I got it…..I gooooooot it!" Carolyn danced around the room like a Flamenco dancer, snapping her fingers above her head and twirling around  Jennifer and the hospital bed .

“I knew you would!  I just knew it, and it’s about damned time that ugly troll gave you a break,” Jenn said.  She started to get up to give Carolyn a big hug, but her incision reminded her why she was resting in a hospital room.  "Ouch!"  She grimaced as she lowered herself back into her bed. " You'll have to accept my congrats from here, girl."

“I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right.  Took it a minute to register!   I knew Gary was hot and heavy after this account, and I know Marion must have had something to do with it, but I don’t care,” her words tumbled out. 

“I’m so happy for you.  As soon as I blow this pop stand we are gonna celebrate with a shopping trip that will take us six months to pay off,” Jenny laughed.

Carolyn pulled a chair over to the bed and plopped into it.  “I’m sorry, Bird.   Here I am jumping up and down and you’re in a hospital gown….with no back…..and dirty tie strings….and what looks like a big blob of spaghetti sauce on the front.”

“Bitch,” Jenn laughed.

“When are they going to cut you lose ?” Carolyn asked?

“Tomorrow, if I can poop.”  Jennifer toyed with the delicate tea cup that held the fern and the pretty yellow ribbon.  “Hey, did you send this to me?”

“Nope, wasn’t me,” Carolyn answered.  “What’s the card say?”  Carolyn picked up the cup by it's delicate handle and inspected the air fern, then carefully put it back in the saucer. 

“From a friend.   I don’t want to give someone false hope, because I have one friend…you…and that’s plenty,” Jenn laughed.

“Well, the good news is if you just have three more appendectomies you’ll have a complete tea set,” they both laughed and went back to talking about Play Land Pools and Spas and how it was  THE account that would surely put Carolyn on the fast track to success.

The delicate porcelain tea cup and saucer with its hand painted violets sat on the tray table between them, totally forgotten.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.............

Marco imagined Carolyn turning into the drive way at the house on Brainard Road. Eight thirty. She’d have gone to the gym and she’d be pulling into the garage, climbing out in her workout clothes and thinking about opening a can of soup for dinner. He smiled because he knew her so well.

“Hey, Gianetti”, his supervisor called to him from door way of the glass walled office in the middle of the warehouse. “Come here for a sec.”

Marco put down the cartons he was checking and headed to talk to Bob. “Yes, sir.”

“I know you are supposed to be off tomorrow night, but I got two guys out and I need you to be here. That a problem for you?” Bob chewed a pencil and looked at a clipboard as he talked. “Dammit. How ya supposed to run a bizness with people always calling off work?”

Marco tried to get his mind around an excuse but came up short. “Naw..I guess I can help you out tomorrow, Bob.” Actually it could work out for the best. It might mean three days in a row off to spend at the house before Jeff got back from his trip. Yeah……this could be alright after all.

Marco went back to checking in his cartons and imagining Carolyn now in the shower after her work out. She’s always tired after a long day and a good workout, Marco thought. Next week I’ll have three days at the house, and I can rub her shoulders and tell her the plan. She’s going to like the plan, he thought.

                                                                     ######

The scene had played out in his head a thousand times, often it was the last thought in his mind before sleep. 

Marco sees himself walking into the bedroom; Carolyn stands with her back to him. 

"Carolyn", he says softly.

Turning, she looks at him as if she has seen his face many times before.  "You are the one, aren't you?  I've felt you here all along," she speaks slowly and quietly.

"Yes.  I've been here waiting patiently and watching.  I had to know everything about you before I could come for you," Marco says.

At this point in the vision his view changes and he is looking down on the bed from above as the two of them make passionate love for the first time; twisted in champagne colored silk sheets.  Carolyn has come willingly into the bed because she understands what he has done for her.  She knows he is the only one who really loves and understands her.  She also understands Jeff is the enemy.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.................

Carolyn stepped from the shower, her blonde hair streaming water into her eyes. She dried vigorously with a big fluffy towel, then plugged her blow dryer in and put it on the vanity.   

Standing in front of the mirror she gave her naked image  hell for not making it to the gym.  Sucking in her belly she was dismayed to see a tiny bulge that she knew could grow into  a full blown weight problem if she didn't pay close attention.  Always a stickler about her weight, Carolyn had no intention of ending up in cotton underwear and "mom jeans" any time soon.

Filling her tooth brush with a whitening gel she vigorously brushed her teeth,  then filled the glass from a shelf over the vanity with mouth wash and water. With her mouth full, she decided she didn’t want to chance getting the hairdryer wet, so she picked up the lid to spit the stinging mixture into the toilet.   Surprised, she noticed the water was yellow. 

Carolyn was meticulous about her bathroom. One reason she fell in love with this house was because the master bedroom boasted his and her bathrooms and walk in closets. It meant she and Jeff never had to fight over the lid being up or down, toothpaste on the sink or whiskers on the vanity top. She could be as anal as she wanted, he could be the slob she knew he actually was. Everybody won.

She puzzled for a second about the unflushed toilet, then spit the mouthwash into the water.   As it spiraled down the drain she muttered,  “I must be getting forgetful in my old age.”   She wiped her mouth on the soft, salmon colored hand towel, then carefully refolded it and place it on the counter. 

When she finally crawled into  bed Carolyn was surprised at how tired she felt. As she called Jeff’s cell phone she snuggled deep under the covers.

“Hey, babe”, he sounded tired, too.  “I would give a hundred bucks to be home in my own bed right now.”

“I wish you were here, too. We would be having some really good celebration sex! I got the account, Jeff…I cannot freaking believe it, but I did,” Carolyn chuckled.

“That is great news, honey. I am so happy for you! Does this mean you can pay your bills if the Iron Maiden kills me off before I get out of here?”

“Don’t think you’re getting off that easy, bud. You have to fight her off so we can have another fifty years. Tell me what’s going on, sweetheart,” Carolyn's tone had shifted to one of concern.

Jeff tried to add a cheery note to his voice so she wouldn’t worry, “Aw, the same old stuff. Nobody likes change, and that’s what I get paid to bring these folks.” He told her about the past few days, including how the Iron Maiden had run out of the office in tears about three o’clock this afternoon.

Curled under her big comforter, Carolyn tried her best to keep her eyes open, but Jeff’s voice became one long, soothing sound track. She started awake to Jeff’s, “Hey! You still there?”

“You’re losing me, big guy. I am going to sleep now to dream of all the money I’m going to make now that I’m a full-fledged advertising executive. I’ll call you in the morning on my way into town,” the last was interrupted by a big yawn.

“KO? I love you. I won’t have to stay as long as I thought; I’m leaving here on Saturday morning. I’ll be there for lunch, and I can’t wait to get home, honey,” Jeff said. 

 "Honey?....KO?".  The only response was a soft snore on the other end of the phone.

Chapters 7, 8, 9, 10 STALK

CHAPTER SEVEN..................

After lunch Carolyn called Jeff to check in and hear about his day with the Iron Maiden. He assured her he felt as if he had turned a corner with the woman, and things were moving right on schedule. This had been the longest of his trips so far this year, almost two weeks, and Carolyn was more than ready for him to come home.

“When I get back we’re going to plan a vacation, KO,” he said. KO had been his nickname for her since the first day they’d met nearly seven years ago. Introduced to him by her older brother, Michael, at a birthday party, Jeff had taken her hand and smiled into her eyes. She felt a jolt of electricity as he said, “Well hello there. Aren’t you a knock out!” They spent the entire evening sitting on a couch, heads together, laughing. When she finally pulled herself away to leave Jeff said, “Can I call you tomorrow, KO?” That was it…end of old story and beginning of a new life. They were married a short time later and it never occurred to either of them that there was any other option but to be together.

“God knows we could use some time away. I vote for beach and sunshine, baby. Keep that thought in mind while you’re finishing up. You…me….a beach….and outrageously attentive waiters with trays and trays of martinis!”she laughed. “Now get back to work and earn lots of money ‘cause Mama needs a new pair of sandals.”

CHAPTER EIGHT.................

Marco stopped at the front desk inside the front doors of Mercy Medical. Projecting a boyish charm he said, “Could you tell me the room number for Jennifer Keeler, please.” The elderly lady behind the desk tore a sheet of paper off a small tablet, and in shaky handwriting she wrote the room number for him. “Room 1305. Do you know how to get to the new wing?” He admitted he didn’t, and she pointed with a shaky hand to a bank of elevators down the hallway. “Take elevator A to the second floor, then follow the blue room signs. You can’t miss it.” Looking around he said, “And the gift shop?” “Down this hall and to the right,” she answered.

He trotted off to the gift shop to find something nice for Jennifer. “Flowers, she loves flowers,”he thought. He’d find something elegant and tasteful, no cartoon characters on milar balloons or cheesy stuffed animals. After all, nothing was too good for the best friend of the woman he loved.

A cooler with four shelves stood at the back of the shop. Marco opened the sliding door and selected a teacup and saucer painted with violets that was filled with an air fern and a tiny yellow ribbon. He knew violets were Jennifer’s favorite flower, so she’d like the container. At the counter he chose a card to go with the gift, signing it, “Get well soon, from your friend”

Stepping out of the elevator, Marco casually strolled past room 1305. A very attractive blond, hair pulled into a pony tail, sat on the side of the bed in a red, plaid robe. As she talked on a cell phone, a woman in a chair by the bed sat watching. It was evident they were related, the woman in the chair an older version of the one on the bed. As Marco strolled by he kept the porcelain cup by his side, out of sight.

The nurse’s station was four doors past Jennifer’s room, and Marco could see the top of someone’s head behind the counter as he approached with the tea cup. “I’d like to leave this for Jennifer Keeler, please. Her mother is visiting now, and I don’t want to interrupt them.”

“Are you sure?” the toothy young nurse looked up from a chart she was working on to smile at the boyishly good looking courier. “She’s been here most of the day; I don’t think you’d be interrupting anything.”

“I’m sure. I’m running late anyway. I bet they’ll kick her out of her tomorrow, so I might just surprise her at home.” Placing the delicate cup and saucer on the counter he nodded and headed off back down the way he had just come. As he passed the room, the older woman looked up at him, nodding and smiling vaguely. Marco nodded and touched the brim of his blue wool cap, his mind racing with possibilities at the thought of a visit to Jennifer’s apartment.



CHAPTER NINE.........

Carolyn and Jeff were married and busy relocating just three months after they met. Her happiness about her new life was only slightly dimmed by the fact that she would be two hundred and ten miles from her parents and three siblings. Michael, the oldest, was a dentist in her hometown of Marlborough. Next her sister Diane, married with four kids, then her sister Darla, also married with two kids. Both girls lived within four blocks of their parents. Carolyn, at twenty six, was the baby and the first one to really leave the nest.

One efficient way to stay in touch for the past four years was Facebook. Carolyn posted everything, sometimes to Jeff’s dismay. Pictures of their home, their yard, the events they attended and their day to day lives filled albums on her page.

One of the first friends Carolyn made when they arrived in Tennyson was Jennifer Keeler. They met at The Section, a gym downtown that catered to upper class health nuts. Soon Jennifer was addicted to Facebook, too, and the two exchanged open conversations about everything, including the new container garden Jennifer had created on her roof top patio downtown…complete with her favorite flowers, violets. Instead of hours on the phone, the two grew the friendship on the electronic pages of the internet.

CHAPTER TEN...........

Some of Marco’s happiest memories were of holidays at his house on Brainard Road. Every year he saved his time off from work for the Christmas season. At the start of his time off he would gingerly remove the basement window from its casing and slip into the house during the day. When there was an early snow, he was always careful to keep a paper cup close to the window so that he could use it to fill in his tracks if he had to come and go for some reason. At the east end of the basement there was an offset in the room that had been closed over with paneling. The man who built the house had planned a wine cellar in that area, and the foundation and brick was put up to accommodate the space. For some reason the plan changed, and Mr. Robertson told the contractor to cover the opening with heavy barn siding. After the house was finished, but before Robertson moved in, Marco came back to the house to make adjustments to the wall. Using heavy duty magnets to hold a small piece of the paneling in place, he was able to create a false wall that allowed him to go in and out of the tiny area without anyone knowing. When Robertson moved in he piled boxes against the wall, and all Marco had to do was move things around to give him access to his hiding place. He kept a sleeping bag, an empty plastic milk jug, a battery operated lantern and some snacks in the space. When he had time off to enjoy the house he sometimes spent days sleeping there, using the nights to explore the house and its contents and eating what he wanted while the man slept upstairs.

It would have been the perfect arrangement if the stupid man hadn’t been such a hoarder. Soon the basement filled up with furniture that Robertson planned to refinish and resell. His messy habits made it tough for Marco to get around the house, the final insult coming when he pried the window open only to find a cherry highboy blocking his way into his house. In a fury he stuck his leg through the window and pushed the highboy over. Upon gaining access he realized he had damaged the chest of drawers beyond disguise. He knew any idiot could tell it had been pushed over, and he also knew his secret would be discovered. That’s when he put together a plan for Mr. Robertson’s accident. It really wasn’t his fault, he knew. Just something that had to be done.