Rain part 10.

Rain part 10.

Anne walked back through the kitchen and walked out from the mudroom door. She made a left, rounded the backside of the  house which brought her to stand outside of her bedroom window. Across  the wet grass on the edge of the property line stood the young, tall and still very wet maple tree Jack had planted for her. A lanky teenager of a tree. 

      

*****

When their frenzied energies  were finally all spent inside Jack’s pick-up truck that afternoon, Anne found herself fully clothed, well almost, straddled on top of a man she had only met the day before and she didn't have the tiniest inkling what her next step would or should be except….except her very strong desire to die or magically disappeared like the fog. The fog! It was….gone! Through the fog-free back window of the cab of the truck, Anne could see the mouth of the alley clearly. Oh….

      In her haste to dismount from her position atop Jack, Anne bumped her head against the cab’s roof and her right foot  got caught in  the stirring wheel. 

      “ Anne, are you alright?” Jack use one arm to steady  her while using the other to free her right foot. 

      “ The fog Jack, it’s…. gone.” she said, avoiding Jack’s eyes. She knew her face was turning as red as a cooked lobster. “People…. can see us. “ 

      “ I don't mind.” Jack said calmly. 

      “ People see us. People say something. People talk. People judge. People….” 

     Anne couldn't finish her rambling, Jack used his both hands to hold her face and forced her to look at him. Their eyes met. His eyes looked at her solemnly. Anne thought he would kiss her while telling her how those people didn't matter to them. But she was wrong on both counts: Jack didn't kiss her or tell her anything, he asked a question instead. 

     “ The people you talk about…are they from this earth….or people from the alien-spaceship? “ 

     What….?

    The corner of Jack’s mouth made a slight upturn, the beginning of a smile. Anne couldn't help but to smile back. Jack was smiling too. Then, with ease, he helped her get off of  him and gently deposited her on the seat next to him. He straightened his clothing. Following his example, Anne did the same thing. 

     “Are you alright? “ he asked. Anne nodded her head. Then just then, Jack leaned into her and kissed her. “ If you need to talk about what happened, I’m here.” 

     There were so many emotions, so many words Anne wanted to say but she didn't know how, but when she looked into Jack’s eyes, she felt how unnecessary her words would be. Jack understood it all. Jack somehow had that connection with her. 

    They continued their affair through out the rest of the hurricane season that year. The time Anne finally able to make that trip to tell her parent how happy she was although her marriage to Thomas had fallen apart, she did mean it. She was happy. Very happy with Jack. 

      She always had been someone’s good daughter, wife or mother. But with Jack, she could be just a person. Jack never asked her to be anything but to be herself.

       If she wanted  to have a spaghetti sandwiches with a load of pickles, she could make and eat them. No comment from Mr. Jack River, who was seated across the table from her and  ate his spaghetti with a fork twirled on a spoon. 

       If she had the urge to express herself by painting orange elephants  and green-skin men as their handlers,  Jack would say how original and beautiful her colors were. 

      If she didn't want to do anything but lay in bed totally unkept, Jack had let her be or climbed to bed to keep her company. 

      Those were the happiest months of her life. But of course, they never mean to last. A few days before Thanksgiving Day, Thomas had returned home. The Miss. Nathalie Something or Other had bored him. 

******

Thomas Sutton, no doubt was a savvy businessman and political maneuvered, but he was at his savviest as a general who only goes to war when he absolutely, positively know, he will emerge as the victor.

     Thomas return home to his wife with a complete arsenal to win her back. A team of interior decorators were hired to decorate the house for Thanksgiving’s celebration.  He talked to their youngest son’s school master, to let the boy come  home a week earlier than the other students. He bought countless gifts for their two daughters who would be home from colleges. He bought a whole set of jewelry for Anne. They sparkled expensively in their black velvety boxes like the stars on a clear sky, so many and so brilliant. And for a sure win, Thomas had invited Anne’s parent to stay with them  during the holiday, from Thanksgiving to Christmas. 

     Anne  couldn't argue with her husband when her  children within ear shot. The children were happy to see their parent back together, how could she disappoint them? Look how sorry their daddy was, they could see it from the lavish gifts. And how could she hurt her parent by rejecting being a wife again. Even if it meant being the wife of a husband who had left her for a younger woman far too often. At least she could again claim her place as a married woman, a respected position. That was her parent’s belief.

      By Valentine Day in  the next year, Thomas had found someone new but their oldest daughter had lost her first love, so it was Anne’s duty to be there for her daughter. Then that summer, Thomas’ only sibling and her family perished in a plane crash somewhere in Montana. And that tragedy was followed by her father-in-law suffering a series of stroke. Anne couldn't leave. Her duty to put her family above her own needs was her life. But, in the special place in her heart, where happy memories and hope and childhood wishes were stored, there was Jack. 

        She followed his whereabouts through the website for his volunteer work. Jack and his selected crew did a lot of volunteer works, cleaning up then rebuilding devastated communities across the country. Volunteer works needed lots of volunteers, the website was set up to register those temporary volunteers. When the next hurricane season approached, Anne decided to follow the hurricane to find her Jack. 

    

     

      

     

 

Rain part 9a of 16.

Rain part 9a of 16.

Anne left the bedroom and called for Moose. And as always, the tan colored, one hundred and twenty pounds mutt whose head almost reached Anne’s chest while she stood on all fours, bounded to her in a heart-beat. Moose was a full-grown dog, but acted more like a restless puppy. Her tail excitedly wagged side to side. Her brown eyes looked at Anne with full anticipation. While she nuzzled her nose into Anne’s side, the big dog saw Thomas standing in the back ground. Her tail stopped wagging for a brief moment.

     That morning, Jack had dropped Moose off at the groomer in town who was also offered boarding service. Jack was supposed to be going to  California for a couple of weeks. So, Moose wasn’t there when Jack was murdered. But somehow the dog’s love for his master giving her the extra sense to recognize her  master’s murderer. In the two years that Moose had stayed with the Sutton’s, she never showed aggressive behavior toward Thomas, but she definitely kept her guarded distance from the man.

     Moose returned her focus back to her mistress. Her tail wagged faster, her tongue lolled out.

      “ You’re ready to go outside, aren’t you Moose?” Anne ruffled the dog head. Moose was  such a beautiful dog of mixed breed, a face like Labrador, a body as big and tall as a Great Dane and a thick  coat like a husky.  Jack had adopted her during one of his trip to help clean up a community devastated by tornado in Oklahoma. In the two weeks Jack was there, the ownerless-dog had followed him wherever he went. 

      “ We’re off.” Anne told her husband. 

      By then Moose had bounced to the mudroom door by the kitchen. Her red leash was hanging on the peg by the door. Anne slipped off her house slippers, then put on her walking boots. “ The rain dampened your day, didn’t it, Moose?”

      Moose’s desire to spend time outside was palpable through her excited behavior, circling her own self in anticipation. Her nail clicked against the mudroom’ tiled floor. 

      Anne picked up the leash and reached out for Moose’s collar and then opened the door. For a second, Moose hesitated to take that first step through the door as thought she sensed something was not right. Her brown eyes looked up at her mistress. Anne patted the dog’s back, giving her the assurance she needed, and the dog immediately took off.  She  ran outside without a backward glance like a kindergartener during recess time, leaving her red leash lying limp on the floor. Anne stared at the leash; she had taken the first step in her game. 

*****

“ You don't have to do this.” Through the open mudroom door, the slightly cooler August  air with its mixed of earthy scents of damp grass, freshly broken tree branches, fallen leafs and left-over rain, brought Jack’s presence back to her. 

     “ I have to.” Anne said. 

    “ If you do this, it's going to change you forever.” 

    “ He had changed me, Jack. You knew that.  Now that you are gone……” Anne took a deep breath, shook her head and swallowed the raw and deep hollow feeling she always felt whenever the realization of Jack absence on this earth, came to her. 

     “ I won't deny the fact that Tom had hurt you in every which way a husband could. But he won't harm you.” Jack tried to reason. 

      “ A car accident, a house that almost blew up, what do you call that Jack? Coincidence? Come on, Jack.” 

     “ Tom is not a murderer, Anne. “ Jack said, semi-defeated. 

     “ He murdered you.” Anne said and with that, she  closed the mudroom door. Shut away Jack and all his reasons. Shut away her reasons too. She had planned this. She would going to see it done. 

*****

 

Rain part 9b of 16.

Rain part 9b of 16. 

Anne picked up the leash and hung it back on the peg by the door before she walked back to her bedroom through the kitchen. She made a very short stop at the first set of cupboard to her right reached for something behind the various coffee mugs that lined the cupboard and tucked the small item she retrieved in the pocket of her jeans.

      “ Tom….” she called and walked to find her husband in their bedroom in the process of changing his pair of khakis to a pair of jeans better suited for the backyard’s BBQ at the Morgan’s “ I didn't hook up Moose’s leash correctly, and she ran  outside without a leash” she said. 

     Thomas, raised his eyebrows, very unhappy hearing her news, “ That damn dog,” he muttered. 

     Thomas Sutton had never been a dog person. They had owned a couple of dogs once, part of the show of country-people-with-their-dog kind-of-thing. But Thomas never really took care of the dogs. He didn't even knew when the dogs were no longer with them. 

    With an apologetic smile Anne said,” I think Moose will be at the Graham’s again.” 

    The Graham’s  had purchase Jack’s former house. But they were staying in the city waiting for their first baby’s arrival, so their summer house next door to the Suttons’ was empty. “ You know how unhappy they were when Moose ruined their landscape last time she was loose over there. I will get Moose then walk to the Morgan’s through the trail. You go on ahead take the car and drive to the Morgan’s.” 

      Only a dozen houses dotted the hill on the western shore of the man-made Morgan Lake. The Morgan’s calls them ‘The Dirty Dozen’. Each house sat exclusively hidden, protected by the private drives that set them apart from the winding mountain road that the public use to get to the other side of the lake where Atlantic Ocean lay. Each house boasted this level of privacy, consequently, each had a very long driveway. But the backyard’s of the homes were connected by a private packed dirt-and-gravel trail. In most cases, it was faster to reach your neighbor’s homes by walking the backyard  trail than driving through the well-paved mountain-road out front. 

     Tom debated with himself the wisdom of his wife’s suggestion but in the end, just like Anne hoped he would, his own gallantry won. “ No. I’ll walk with you.” 

     “ How are we going to get home later?” It is a different story to walk the trail in daylight and while sober, than to walk the trail in the dark with some alcohol in your blood stream.

     “ We can borrow one of the Morgan’s car.“ 

    “ And Moose? Do you think the Morgan’s will mind?”

    Tom shook his head and gave his wife one of those charming smile of his. “ Darling, they have more dogs than anybodies we know.”  

    Anne couldn't help but to return his smile. It was true. The Morgan’s had a penchant for getting a dog or two every year. They have more dogs than the total number of their descendants. 

    Anne looked at her husband and felt the uneasy pang of guilt inside her heart. How sweet her husband was at that moment. His charming smile and his gallantry to keep her company walking the trail. Thomas had always been a true Southern gentleman.  All those years with three beautiful children they had   and now a grandchild and another one on the way, Thomas never failed to look after her, his precious wife. But that was it. She  was only a precious wife. Thomas was never able to see her as a person who had her own right. The right to feel hurt, the right to be happy. Or not to be his wife anymore. 

    “ Alright. “ Anne said, “ I’ll go ahead looking for Moose. Meet us on the trail’s first bridge.” 

     “ Okay.” Thomas said and flashed her another smile, as thought to say, ‘ Meet me on the bridge’ how romantic it sounded.

    Anne turned back to the kitchen. A pinch of doubt suddenly sprinkled the resolve of what she was about to do. She had been a good daughter, a good mother, a good wife. Why couldn't she stay  that way? She shook her head. No she she couldn't, not after what had been done to her. 

RAIN part 8

Rain part 8.

       

       Anne felt her husband’s soft kisses  had become more demanding, fueled by a sudden desire. Then she knew who the other woman was; Cynthia Garaway. 

     “ I wish them the best,“ she said between her husband’s kisses. 

       Anne  was pregnant with their third child, when she found out about her husban’s philandering way. She had thrown a fit bigger than the devil who found himself woken up in heaven. Immediately packing her and the kids’ clothes, ready to drive away from her marriage. Then her mother- in-law, calmly  confronted her : what will the divorce do to her children and the unborn child? What will the divorce do to her wonderful parents, who adore Tom as if he were their own? What the divorce will do to her? The older Mrs. Sutton listed  all about the disadvantage of divorcing a Sutton. Well, she knew it first- hand, didn't she? After all, Thomas Sutton, was only following in his predecessor’s footsteps. Nothing more, nothing less. The male Suttons’ legacy, making more money than their father had, and  sleeping with more woman than their father ever did. 

     “ You are, the wife. The other women? Just a playthings.” Katherine Sutton, said it, lived it, and enjoyed it. After a few weeks separation, in the end, Anne decided to take her mother- in- law advise. And  to his credit, Thomas had welcomed her back, like nothing had ever happened and treated her as he always had, Anne was his wife, the only woman that mattered in his life. The other women? Just play things. Until…..

*******

“ What is that about?” Jack had asked her, on that first night they had met. They had finished  their meals and the conversation of wet weather outside  had run  dry.  ‘That’ was the ring of pale skin around her left ring finger. 

    “ A new model came along, and the husband traded in the old ride.” Anne heard herself say. Where did the words came from? Why did she say such thing? Hanging your dirty laundry out in public had never been her style. Heck, she never liked to hang her laundry in public, dirty or clean, period. Then why did she say such a thing to this stranger she only met tonight?  

      The restaurant was packed to the brim when she arrived. Many future patrons loitered the parking lot. No doubt they were the out-of -towner, like herself, who were forced to take the detour from the closed highway. Jack had offered her to share his table. The waiting list was an hour long. Anne was too tired and hungry to refuse. Besides what harm could it do to share a meal with a stranger in this crowded place? 

     “ New model, huh? Domestic or foreign?” Jack asked  with the casual attitude of someone talking about cars. No word of sympathy.

     “ Foreign,” Anne answered, while asking herself why did she was having this conversation with this man, a total stranger. 

     “ European or Asian?” 

     “ European. Donald Trump has one. My husband wanted to have one, too.” Jack was in  his forties, with hazel eyes, light brown hair and his large hands seemed rough enough to sand the wood on their own. 

     “ Competitive man. “ Jack commented with a smile.

     “ He is,“ she agreed. Jack also had a beautiful smile. 

     “ Good for him. Good for you. “ Jack winged and raised  his glass filled  halfway with Pepsi, as if making a toast. Anne raised her tea cup in answer to the toast. They both laughed. Anne still couldn't figure out why she told Jack about the state of her married life. But she also couldn't deny, how good she felt for sharing it with Jack.

      Miss Natalie Something was in her mid twenties. Thomas had run into her during the holiday party festivities the year before and begin the affair with her shortly after. When Donald Trump announced his engagement to the Slovenian model in April, Thomas Sutton, publicly showed off his own prize by taking  Natalie everywhere he went. The Suttons’ impending divorce was the topic in the media. Like always, Anne stayed mum to the whole ordeal, but took off  her wedding ring, her quiet way of making a statement that her husband was free to do whatever he wishes. They were separated, now leave her alone. Her parents  were very upset. She was on her way to assure them that even though she and Thomas were no longer married, both of them were happy so were their children. But hurricane Charley forced her to take the detour from the highway. Then she ended up sharing a dinner table with Jack Rivers, a carpenter who worked  his way up to become a majority-holder of one of the largest construction company in the country. Jack  and his crew were on their way to offer their assistance to the hurricane victims. 

 *******

Thomas kisses had become deeper. His hands slid from Anne’s  waist to the inside of her thin sweater. 

       “ Come on, Tom. “ Anne gently stopping the advancing hands in their tracks. “ The Morgan’s are waiting, “ she said while returning her husband’s kiss and pulling herself slowly  away.

        “ Let them wait.”her husband said.

        Anne smiled and shook her head, then moved to the door. “Let me take Moose out, then we go. Okay?”

       Thomas shook then nodded his head. Giving her that crestfallen look of a man being rejected. He was charming when he did it. Anne laughed, waved her hands in the air then walked away, looking for Moose, their dog.  Actually he was Jack’s dog  who Thomas adopted, when Jack died. What is the best way to punish your cheating wife, but kill her lover then keep his dog,  ensuring that the dog would remind her of her loss everyday? Anne knew the game. But, her husband had forgotten, if one can play the game, so can two. And today is the day she will have her turn in the game. 

               …………to be continue next week or later……..

RAIN Part 7

Rain part 7.

      Thomas Sutton stood over six-feet tall, in his dark burgundy Burberry polo, and off-brown khakis of the same brand, with a haircut that cost more than an average Walmart employee’s weekly wages, exuding money. His face was handsome, with boyish smile showing a neat row of strong white  teeth,  uneven dimples and the deep blue eyes which flashed with a charisma  of confident and trust. If the North had their fallen son, John Kennedy, the South has their still- alive and breathing Thomas Sutton, so the Sutton family like to boast.

       “ Are you, alright?” Tom walked closer to his wife, genuine concern in his eyes. His hands reached out to touch her cheeks. “ You look a little pale,” he said. 

     Anne shook her head, gave her husband another smile. “I’m fine. Just a bit cold from the weather.”  

     “ It was something wasn't it? Hailing in the middle of August. We would never have this crazy weather at home.” Home is the Sutton’s family home, which has been passed on from one generation to the next since before the civil war. Tom’s grandparent were the last one to actually live there. Tom’s parents traveled between many homes the family had. Tom and Anne has done the same. Taking up residence few months here, a few months there. 

     “ No, we wouldn't have weather like this at home,“ Anne agreed.

     Her husband caressed her hair and landed a soft kiss on her lips.  Anne tasted the warmth generated from it, but also the warmth left behind by her husband’s other woman. Who was it this time? 

      “ How were the Garaways?” she asked. Thomas had gone to New York, to meet up with Paul Garaway and his wife. Paul Garaway is an unknown Florida house representative from a small district in Florida, who has his big eyes and equally big ambition fixed on a senate seat in Washington which, according to rumor would be vacant next  year. He was an underdog of underdogs. No one in his state even knew who he was, let alone anyone in the Capitol. He had approached Thomas Sutton for help to change that.

      “ They are well,”  her husband answered her. 

      “ So, Paul’s ready to run then.” 

       Thomas nodded his head, “ Paul had to attend some events. We spoke briefly. But I do believe he is ready.” 

       “ How is his wife, what's her name…..” 

       Thomas arms circled his wife’s small waist.  “ Cynthia,” he said. 

       “ Yes…..how is she? Is she ready?”

        Thomas nodded, found his wife’s lips. Anne felt another soft kiss,” She is behind her husband a hundred percent.” he said. 

        Anne felt her husband’s soft kisses  had become more demanding, fueled by a sudden desire. Then she knew, who the other woman was………

                  ……..to be continue next week or sooner……..

       

RAIN part 6.

Rain part 6.

Her heart thumping louder than the rain pelting the truck’s roof. 

      “ Anne…”

      “ Jack…..” 

*********

The rain outside her bedroom window, had turn into a drizzle. 

      “ Jack…..”

      “ Yes……” 

      “ I know there is no rain in heaven, but if there ever were…would you….. think about me and our rain…..?” she whispered. 

        “ I think about you all the time, Anne, “ Jack assured her. 

        The drizzle out of her window had come to a complete stop. 

        “ I miss you, Jack,” she said. And she mean it with all her heart. Jack was her lover, her life. He had brought happiness back to her when she never knew she had lost it in the first place. 

      “ I miss you, too,” Jack said. 

        Outside her window, a weak ray of western sun suddenly appeared, turning the water droplets on the wet grass and leafs into gold, a sign that her  grip on Jack existence would  dissipate soon. How much she wished he were here with her, holding her in a flesh, feel the warmth of his body and his breath. His large calluses hands touching her skin. “ Miss  you, Jack. Very, very, much. “ 

      Then she heard the sound of light footsteps on the soft carpet entering her bedroom and the familiar voice…..

      “ Anne, there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

      Anne turned to face the owner of the voice. Found her husband of thirty- two years, smiling at her. She smiled back,”Hi, Tom. “

                   …….to be continue next week or sooner………

RAIN part 5

Rain part 5.

She stared at him, calculating, balancing and wondering, if she should or would. Before she could change her mind or lose her nerve she said,“ Let me have your wallet. “ 

      

“ My wallet?” It was Jack turn to look confused. But without asking more question,  he sifted in his seat and retrieved his wallet from his back pocket, then handed it to her. 

       

Anne opened the leather bifold, averting her eyes from Jack questioning one. Like the contents of the glove compartment, Jack’s wallet was also tidy. Each of the credit cards occupied its own  individual slot. The paper receipts and the money were each stored in their own compartment. She dug her finger into the hidden pockets under the credit cards slot, one contained a paper with series of phone numbers written on it, the other held what she was looking for. She touched it with the tip of her index finger. For a split second, she wanted  to leave it where it was. When she pulled out the single,  square, foil package with a visible raised ring inside it, she felt her heart  beat loose and run away from her. 

      

She gave back the wallet to Jack, “Now, we are ready!” she announced. 

       

Jack gave her another stare, not the “watermelon size red nose” kind. This time, it was a stare as thought she had more heads than Cerberus and more gruesome teeth than the beast itself. 

       

“ Ready for what?” Finally Jack regained his voice.

     

In a different setting, seeing Jack’s reaction would have made her laugh. But her mind was on something more important at the moment. She was going to change who she had been. Good girl as expected, no more. 

       

“ Ready to do what you suggested us to do,” she said calmly. 

       

Jack shook his head slowly and said, “ No, we are not.” 

       

“ Why? You suggested it.” Anne said, rather confused. Someone had given her a toy, and now that person want it back. 

       

“ Yes, I did. I was just teasing.” Jack said. 

       

“Oh…”Anne stared at the still fogged up windshield. The rain was still falling hard. The ping-ping noise they created when it hit the truck sounded like a Morse code to her ears. A series of code saying she had made a fool of herself. Jack was only teasing. Jack never really wanted her. “ I am too old…..” she quietly said to no one in particular. Even to her own ears, she sounded hurt.

       

Jack immediately reached out for her hand. “ Anne, age doesn't have anything to do with this. I was only teasing when I suggested that. We don't have to do anything. You….don't have to do anything. Like you said, we barely knew each other, “  Jack explained.

       

She looked at him, accusing, more hurt. “Am I not your type?” 

       

“ No…. I mean…. yes. “ Jack blabbered.” Anne you are beautiful. And I am very flattered that you like me, because I like you too. But….” Jack sighed, reached for her hand, let it go, reached for it again, “ What I want to say is……we don't have to do anything you aren't comfortable  doing. “ His hazel eyes looked deep into hers, asking for her understanding. 

       

Anne nodded her head,“ But, I am, Jack.” she told him.” I want to…” What was she saying? Jack had given her the way out…. Was she losing her mind?

       

“ Are you sure?” Jack asked.

       

“ Yes.” Anne nodded again. Yes, she had lost her mind. 

       

“ We might not see each other again.” Jack reminded her. 

       

“ One night stand,“ Anne gave him an assuring smile.” Even better,” she said. She wasn't only losing her mind, but had gone completely insane.

       

Using her teeth, she tore the corner of the thin foil then handed it to Jack. “ I ….want….us….to…..” 

       

Jack took the thin foil offered to him with his free hand, then quietly scooted across the empty seat between them, his eyes never leaving hers. There were unspoken desires in them. His uneven breathing added few degrees of extra heat into the truck’s cab. 

" Anne......" Jack said her name. 

The fog on the truck’s windshield had turned into a thin layer of white silk. Anne’s heart was thumping louder than the rain pelting the truck’s roof.

        

 " Jack…..” 

                         ………to be continue next week or sooner……

RAIN part 4.

Rain part 4.

Her embarrassment forgotten, she stared at him with ballooning anger. A dragon holding her breath of fire.  Are you out of your mind? I barely knows you. This is our second date. If her stare could produce daggers, Jack would had been dead by a thousand stabs. 

And to her surprise Jack broke into laughter. He wasn't only laughing, he was hooting and hollering as thought he had just watched a clown successfully pulling  off his funniest act. His palms banging the truck stirring wheel, shaking the truck more than the storm had been. 

“ What are you laughing at, Jack?” she asked angrily. Greatly irritated. His proposition was insanely degrading, his reaction to her reaction was degradingly insane. 

Jack give her a look, that made her want to rub her nose, ensure her nose hadn't turned into red bulbous nose of a clown, the size of a ripe summer watermelon. 

“ You, “ he said between his laughter. 

“ Me?”

“ Yes, you. You are soooo  very predictable.  Your reaction, exactly I pictured it would be. Predictable as expected.” 

She was? She didn't know what to say. Jack said it, so matter of factly and correctly. It must be correct. All her life she had always tried her hardest to be the person what others expected her to be. A good daughter, a good student, an active volunteering youth, a good….the list went on and on. She never had that moment of 'grew your hair long while your temper runs short' a reflection of youth's recklessness, 

Without saying a word, she reached onto the truck glove compartment box, opening it. In her chest, her heart, bounced around   worse than a loose buoy in a tormented sea. She didn't know exactly what she was doing or planning to do or what got into her. Part of her wants to stay the way she was, and let Jack laugh all he wanted, laughing at her very predictable approach to life. But part of her also wants to break free. In the short span of moment between Jack’s laughter and the look he gave her, she decided to let fate made decision for her. If she found what she was looking for in the glove compartment,  she would  change, if not, she would stay the way she had been all her life: good, obedient, as expected. 

Her hands rummaged through the truck glove compartment’s, surprisingly neat contents: a pair of well worn brown leather gloves, a yellow Manila envelope with a torn top, a handgun,  black and shiny. Men with their truck and their gun, what a surprise.  She moved the gun to the side. But found nothing else. She let out a breath of relief and disappointment at the same time, not knowing what to do next. 

From the corner of her eyes, she saw Jack watching her with questioning eyes. 

“ Can I help you with something? “ he asked. 

She shook her head. “ Nothing. Don't worry about it” 

“ Are you sure? “ 

She nodded. Then shook her head again. “ I don’t know.”

She must have  looked very confused because Jack reached for her hand.” Anne, you can tell me anything, okay?”

She stared at him, calculating, balancing and wondering, if she should or would. Before she could change her mind or lose her nerve she said,…………

                                    ……. To be continue next week or sooner…….

Rain. Part 3.

Rain. Part 3. 

“ Alien space ships?”

She shrugged her shoulder. “ I think I saw it once on a Sci-Fi movie.” 

Jack let out a soft chuckle. 

“ Do you know what movie scene comes to  my mind?” Jack asked, a mischievous smile on his face. 

She shook her head. 

“The Good Mother”, Jack said. 

“ The Good Mother?…..Diane Keaton?” 

“ Yap.” Jack nodded his head.

It was her turn to laugh, Jack and his love of movies, including chick-flicks. How many male on earth willing to admit that with complete honesty. “ What scene?”

“ The scene after they saw the movie. “ There again, that mischievous smile blooming on Jack face. 

It took her awhile to recall the movie and the scene Jack mentioned. When she remember it, she felt her face turning hot red from embarrassment. And Jack noticed it too. 

“ What do you think? We have the truck, the rain, the fog, the alley. We could do what they did, “ he said innocently. 

Her embarrassment forgotten, she stared at him with anger.  Are you out of your mind? 

Rain, part 2.

Rain,  part 2.

It was on their second date when it happened. 

They had gone to early dinner and planned to catch a movie at a downtown theater. But the storm, carried over from the hurricane touching the East coast, had arrived before they did. The old and mostly one-way  downtown streets were under water, forcing Jack to find an alternate route. He drove his truck through an alley, between a bank and a closed gift shop, in attempt to make a short cut to the next street. But a few yards in, he realized the  alley was getting narrower and narrower.  His pick-up truck wasn't going to make it all the way through. They were stuck: A too- narrow alley in front and a street quickly becoming a  creek behind. 

“ Now what?” Jack asked. “ Should we wait here, or back up to the street?” 

She looked back, watching the street behind them for a few minutes. In that very short time, she saw two small cars being washed away into the unknown by the water current. 

“We, wait? “ she suggested in the end. 

“ Are you sure?” 

She smiled. “ I don’t  have any other plans this evening. How about you?” 

Jack returned her smile, appreciating her sense of humor. They both knew they were stuck in this town with nothing to do, until the highway to their destination reopened.

Jack shut off the  truck's engine. Soon, the heat of their breath combined with the difference  in temperatures inside and outside of the truck’s cab fogged up the truck’s windshield, cocooning them from the outside world. 

She used her right palm to wipe the fog. No sooner had her palm cleared it, then another layer of fog formed in its wake.

 “ We couldn't see a thing, “ she said, “if an alien space ship landed in the front of us, ready to kidnap us, we wouldn't  even know.” 

Jack raised his eyebrows. “ An alien space ships?”

                                ................ To be continue next week...............

Rain part 1.

Rain part 1.

“ It is raining here,” she said. Watching the outside world from  her   bedroom window, the window panes were wet from the rain.

“ It is? “ he asked. 

“ Yes, “ she answered, “ rain, thunder, gusty winds and maybe some hails. The whole nine yards. We almost lost our maple tree.” Our maple tree, being the tree he planted three years ago, on the border of their property. “ To remind you, I’ll always be there for you,” he had said. 

“Are you alright? “ he asked. 

“ I am. “

“ And the tree?” 

“ Lost few branches. The wind whipped it up good. But at the last minute, the wind changed its mind, tearing apart the old oak tree next to it instead.“ 

“ It was a big rain then, “ he said.

“ Yes, it was.”

“ As big as, ‘our rain’?”

“ No rain nor storm, could be as big as ours, Jack, “ she said with a shy chuckle. From the blurry reflection on the still wet window pane she could see her cheeks had turn a little pink. The memory of that night always made her feel that way. Embarrassed, yet full of longing and wanting. 

*****

It was on their second date when it happened……,

          …….to be continue next week…….

The Chicken Breast Affair

The Chicken Breast Affair. 

Why did  the chicken cross the road? Some say, “to get to the other side”  (sound like the “ Twilight Zone” other side, doesn't it?). Some say,” to catch the bus.”  Some say, “ to chase the handsome rooster”. There are so many answers, yet none of them is more correct than the other. But, I know why the chicken crosses the road, to run away from me! To run away from my sharp cleaver, to be exact. 

                                           

                                         

Every week, I have to clean and then cut almost 600 pounds of chicken breasts. One side of a chicken breast weigh roughly a pound. Each chicken has two breasts.  So,mathematically speaking, I butcher nearly 300 innocent chickens a week. Some say ( this again) , I am the chickens’ murderer. At best, I promote cruelty to animals, namely chickens. But hey, I don’t like to picture myself as a mass murderer (who does? ), so I say, I help those poor chicken get to heaven. Sound better right? 

Well, to make a short story stay short, I will briefly explain what I do to those chicken breasts  and what happen to them in the process from being raw chicken breasts to yummy chicken dishes in the restaurant where I work. I have to warn you though, you  might not be able to see your General Tao’s Chicken or KungPo Chicken in the same way again. 

Chicken  breasts arrive at the restaurant, in boxes. Each box, weight precisely 40 pounds. If we were to get fat chickens with super large,  triple D, rated R chicken boobies, the box would contain fewer chicken breasts. Less work for me. If the chickens happen to be skinny ones, more like an a A cup breast (there aren't such thing as flat chested chicken are there? ), each box would have more breasts in it. In other words more work for me, to clean them.

 First, I had to place the chicken breasts  in the two compartments food prep sink and let the faucet water throughly  run through  them. The running water  help to clean the slippery slime around the chicken breasts. “Slippery slime? What are you talking about?” you might ask. Oh ya, trust me, there is slippery slime. The grocery stores employs a   different method to clean them, before placing  those chicken breasts in their packaging in order to make them look more presentable to you when you browse the meat shelves. 

 

Then, I trim all of the visible, unsavory, ugly-looking  fat around the chicken breasts. ( I  wish, I could  do that to my  own unsavory ugly looking fat, have a  lots of that).After that,  I cut them into several different sizes:

- Nugget size pieces, for Sweet and Sour Chicken dish or General Tao’s Chicken dish. 

- Thinly slices, for any stir fried dishes, like KungPo Chicken or Szechuan Chicken

- Fillet, for Almond Chicken or Teriyaki Chicken dish. 

Then, I marinate the chicken slices before storing them in the refrigerator. That way they are ready to be stir fried with different vegetables and sauces to create one of the restaurant’s stir fried dishes. I deep fry the nugget pieces and the breast fillets. Then let  them cool to room temperatures before storing them in the refrigerator. The cook will deep fried them again to the correct temperature before he adds some sauce to them to be served as Sweet Sour Chicken or Almond Chicken. Now, the chicken breasts are no longer breasts, they are part of the delicious dishes we serve at the  restaurant.. Pictures of a few dishes I mentioned are on the following page.

Good morning, Grandmama.

Good morning, Grandmama. 

I could feel her warm breath caressing the tip of my toe, slowly traveling up to my knee, my hip, then my tummy. My face would be next. I opened my eyes and looked at her. She pulled her face back. Eyes wide, full of expectation. I closed  my eyes again. Soon, I felt her warm breath on me again, this time mere inches from my face. Some say, her breath smells like a baby’s breath, sweet and innocent. Some say , her breath smells awful,  as rancid as spoiled food straight from the trash can. To me, her breath smells just like what it is: regular dog breath with a hint of mint, from the flavoring added to her water bowl.  

 If I remained with my eyes closed, a small whimper would start to build in the back of her throat. If I kept them closed a little  longer, she would add a frustrated whine to her whimpers. If I pushed it and remained with my eyes closed much longer, she would  begin doing side to side steps of her front paws, a drunken sort of tap dance, to show her impatience. Sometime I teased her by letting her do her  frustrated dance for a little bit. But since it was Sunday morning, I decided to be good.

I opened my eyes. 

Immediately she  pulled her face back, taking her warm breath with her. Leaving a slight chill in the void space. The same cold sensation when the heater fan in our car being suddenly shut off in the cold winter. Her eyes looked into me, watching my next move. 

“ Morning Ana. “ I said. 

 Ana, a fifty five pounder white husky, my son’s dog, who was staying with me for a month, wagged her tail happily, knowing she finally had my full attention. She took a couple steps back then stopped. Came forward, stopped. Stepped back , stopped again. Her eyes shone  with anticipation. 

“ Are you ready to go?. “ I swung my feet off the bed. Ana moved farther back, giving me room to get up. Then, of course, she ran ahead of me to the front door. 

She did her morning stretch as I hooked the leash to her collar. Wagged her tail with an increasing speed. Her nose nudged  my face in appreciation. 

When I opened the front door, both of us took a moment to stand  in the threshold,  taking our time to survey the world outside. Ana was checking to make sure that none of her long extinct predators were  lurking nearby. I was checking and re-checking the neighborhood street, making sure no “predatory “ neighbors were present. Satisfied with her observation, Ana took the urgent steps to the closest patch of grass from the front door then relieved herself. While the human me, not trusting my human observation or instinct, stayed inside the house, using the screen door as a shield  between me and  the outside world. I  had decided, I was not yet ready to share my morning “ Cruella De Vil  run over by one hundred and one Dalmatian puppies.“ look, with the neighborhood. 

                                         

                                    

My Husband’s Weekend Lover

As I rounded the darkened corner, I saw her. My husband’s weekend lover.  She stood demurely a half leaning against the wall. My hearth ached. My blood began pounding through my vein, a  ruckus liquid pool, cruising my vein in frenzied  confusion. My breath shortened, half of me forgot to inhale or exhale. 

Yet, there she was, tall, willowy, elegantly silent.  My presence didn't affect her at all. I was nothing to her. Nothing! How dare, she. 

In the dim light surrounding us, I dared myself to  glare at her. She glared back at me. Actually not all of her. Just her hourglass waist. The spot where I knew my husband held her to dance his weekend hours away. I snorted. She and her kind……only good for that. 

I calmed my self. I could ignore  her as much as she ignored me. I took the steps to pass her and just then…..her finger hooked on to my shirt. What in God name…..?

I swore. My arms flailing this way and that, I tried my best to get away from the  hooked finger. 

“ Get off of me.” I shouted. 

I kicked and hit something. I didn't care what it was. Then I turned and ran. My peripheral vision caught a glimpse of my husband’s lover as she  fell  to the floor. Again, I didn't care. I kept on running. 

When I stepped out into the light, I was gasping, my breath was stop and go a half way around the moon. 

“ Are you all right? “ my husband asked. 

I looked at him. Flustered. “ Of, course.” 

“ Who were you talking to?.” he asked, his head jerking  toward the space behind me. 

“ No, one. “ I lied. 

My husband stared at my empty hands. His eyes questioning. 

I shrugged. “ I changed my mind.” I said. “ I no longer want to paint, I am going to write instead.” 

My husband eyes flicked to the dining room area, where various sizes and shapes of old tarps cover the table, chairs and floor. 

“ Oh…..” My husband said before returning his attention back to the movie on TV. “ …she is crazy.”  I heard him muttered under his breath. 

Crazy…..??  Am I……??? I looked back down into the dimmed basement.  I was  feeling jealous, swearing then fighting with my husband’s ……..fishing pole!!!