at 02/06/06 6:15PM
Charles was an old man who lived alone most of his life. There had been a wife and a family once, but they had all since passed on, moved away, or drifted apart. Charles was the kind of man you never saw not smiling. All day, working in the factory, buying his groceries, taking out the trash, everyone who passed Charles never saw anything less than a smile wiped clear across his face. Every once in a while, a stranger, or a neighbor, or a little kid in the hospital emergency room would care enough to stop and ask, "Why are you in such a good mood?" because they really couldnt see anything worth smiling about in his life. Charles would always grin a little wider and answer, "because, each day, I wake up and choose to be happy." The inquirer would always walk away motivated... "maybe if I just choose to smile, things won't seem so bad."
But Charles knew that was a lie, he always laughed a little bit at those deluded enough to believe that just smiling would make everyone feel better about themselves. He always laughed a little more knowing he had something they didnt have. That choosing to be happy wasnt what he was smiling about at all. Charles had a secret. A secret life that no one could possibly believe. A secret life that no one would expect out of this frail old factory man. A secret life that was so exciting, no matter how hard he tried, Charles couldnt keep the smile off his face just thinking about how great his life was. What Charles didn't know, was that one person knew his little secret... and soon... very soon... it would all be unveiled.
at 01/28/06 2:32PM
It's funny, the way men and women think they are being perfectly clear to one another, about their feelings, opinions, wants, desires...but so often, its just not the case. One man YAWNS, and then feels theres no one in the world who likes him because he has yet to find anyone yawning back. For a clearer example, lets look at Jack and Jill. Jack was crazy about Jill. So much so, that for six months he hiked up a hill to help Jill fetch a pail of water. For six months, he thought, "this will really show her I care." Then, one day, as they are hiking, Jack thinks he's caught his break. Jill turns, looks straight at him, and slowly blinks her eyes.
As Jack stands there in disbelief trying to collect his thoughts, Jill blinks again. Jack finally decides to just go for it, he leans over to take her in his arms, but at that moment the second blink had done the trick of dislodging the gnat that had so inconveniently flown into Jill's eye, causing her to stop, and try to force it out with some very conscientous blinking. At the time the gnat was freed from her eyelid, Jill continues on up the hill, until she hears it. *THUD* "oh, ow, oh, uh, oh, ow..." "Jack!!!" she yells. Jack had "went for it" with such enthusiasm that when his target moved, he caught air, and when tumbling down the hill.
Jill was aghast... "what had gotten into Jack?" she thought. And, What was she to do? Well, the only natural thing to do of course ....
at 09/28/05 4:51PM
This is a fairy tale unlike any other. No princesses, no prince, no kingdoms in far away lands. Not even a single fairy to be told. No, this is no fairy tale. But, it definitely holds no shortage of magic. It is a story of true love, a love story. Real. Magical. Love.
“So what’s your beef with Teal?” Claire actually seemed hurt that I had not agreed with her choice of possible wall color.
“I don’t know. It’s ugly. It’s tacky. Really it conjures up feelings in me that I must keep bottled up for fear of...”
“What about turquoise? Same feelings?” she asked with absolute seriousness.
“Eh. Turquoise is usually reserved for gay people.”
“What about the color of my eyes Stephen? Is that why you always goon over them… because you hate them?”
“Your eyes are green… and what exactly is goon?”
“Never mind.” She looked away from me and took a deep wisp from her cigarette, “So green is ok?”
“Of course. Green is the color of trees and money, not to mention it is the perfect harmony of blue and yellow… sad and happiness.”
“So green is the color of balance?”
“Right. Do you feel balanced?”
“Always,” she laughed. “Not really…”
"You see, I use Secret, strong enough for a man, yet PH balanced for a woman."
But deep inside, Claire knew she wasn't balanced. A war raged within her mind every day because she knew she had to leave the man she once loved. Steve was a passionate lover, but his love for Claire was shallow compared to his love for his job.
Like a stick of deoderant, Claire's feelings for Steve wore thin over time. Her love could no longer cover the pungent scent of neglect that covered Steve every day.
"Steve," said Claire as her eyes welled up with tears, "I want to be more important in your life. I want us to have a child. I want that child to have a father!"
"Are you talking about my job again, Claire? I am the CEO of the Greatest Show on Earth, Claire. Do you know how many clowns have to report to me? And they're all clowns, Claire, not just the ones that put on the white makeup. Oh yes, those clowns would run the circus into the ground if it weren't for my leadership!"
Yep, she knew just how it would go. She had a lot of the conversations in her head before saying them outloud. In fact, she had pretty much imagined their whole relationship from first date through the irritable married years where you are on the brink of divorce, and then both decide to rekindle your love. Recently, she had the habit of sort of playing back little snippets like this one when she was with him.
But, she never did say any of these thought outloud...it never ended well even in her mind. Yes, much easier to pick a paint color than to pick an emotion right now.
She knew that she loved him, but she knew that it would never work. What she didn't know was why not? So for now... she was content with the friendship.
Everyone would always ask them if they were together. They spent more time together than they ever did with whomever they were dating at the time. She was always the first to deny it when others would ask if they were together. He never protested. Al she wanted was just once, for him to protest, to speak up, and say, I don't want to just be friends anymore. I want you, and I want you to want me.
Snapping back to he task at hand, she took in a deep breath and sighed, "Well...Its probably best" and she rolled the red paint along the walls in her bedroom.
This whole "feelings" business was really starting to get on her nerves. Something had changed, could even her unspoken awareness of how she felt about Stephen really change things this much?
They used to talk for hours, they used to be able to hang out and just have fun. Now, she was afraid to wrap her arms around him, she was afraid to laugh to loud, she was afraid that if she did anything too much, he would see it all. But he deserved better. He deserved to find his feelings for himself. She wanted nothing more to scream to him, "Don't you see? Don't you see that right now, I COULD be dating. But I'm not. Don't you see that I would wait for you as long as it takes. Don't you see that I know me and I know you enough that I know it wouldnt be enough to try to force anything. It wouldnt be enough for you to be with me, just because you know I want you to....but you need to be with me if and only when you learn that you want to."
What she feared was that he could see that dialog in her eyes. Her curse, those eyes. She had learned long ago, even if she never flinched, body, smile, hands, no matter what she was trying to hide, she never could hide what her eyes were telling the world. However, she also learned most people don't pay that close of attention. Most people, not Stephen. She had always outwardly hated that about him, and secretly it was one of the reasons that she loved him so much.
All of a sudden she realized she had been on her way out, to meet a new friend at coffee. This guy who she had worked with at a summer internship in college. They had finally been back in the same city, and she had made excuses too many times to his requests to hang out. She HAD been on the way to meet him, but she looked up and there she was...slowing down right in front of Stephen's house. .... What next?
Stephen knew something was up when he looked through the peephole. The alarms really started ringing when she asked if they could just sit and watch Mystic Pizza. To Claire, old 80s movies were like Chocolate Fudge Ripple ice cream for other girls. Then she asked if there was any ice cream in the house.
But, she didnt bring anything up, and as much as he loved to, he decided it wasnt the best time to pry. Actually, he was glad just to see her. He had been so busy at work lately, and she had seemed to have distraction after distraction keeping her out of his sight for days.
They curled up on the couch and started the old standard. As usual they barely made it past the first scene inside that familiar pizza parlour before Claire had found that perfect spot between his arm chest and head and sunk in. Man, he loved how she always smelled. It didn't hurt that it had been so long since things had felt this comfortable. But, he decided, it still wasn't time. This was good. This was all he could offer her just yet, even though he wanted more, and he knew she deserved more, for now, this was right.
He started thinking about the poem curled up inside the pocket of his hooded sweatshirt. Someday, he would be able to tell her. Or, someday at least he would give her this note:
Claire -
There are so many words I want to give to you. But each time I try, they seem to easy to say. Words to tell you how I feel should be more complicated, more weighty, they should take more effort.
Too many people throw the words around they use the word beautiful to describe a car, the word intelligent to describe a machine, the word pure to describe water, the word trustworthy to describe a bank, the word priceless to describe a vase, the word friend to describe mere acquaintances, the word lover to describe an object of lust…
My list could go on and on. The thing is, you are all of these things to me, or I want you to be. You are more than any person I have ever met, with more potential than I have ever known, and you make me better than I could have ever dreamed.
I would tell you that I don’t want another day of my life to go by without you in it, but even that doesn’t seem long enough.
I would tell you that I love you. I would, but I can’t for even that…the word of all words, isn’t enough for you. Claire, together let’s be.
Beyond all that exists in our written language, I’m yours,
Stephen
About the time Julia Roberts had made her famous "bread crumbs" scene, Claire turned up at him, and gave him that look. He knew just what she wanted. So, he pulled the hoodie off, and handed it over. He hated how she was so easy to read, and how he was so eager to give her exactly what she hadn't asked for. How could she be so easy to read, and yet, so complicated all at the same time.
As Claire was driving home she mindlessly reached into the pocket of the sweatshirt looking for her cell phone, she found the crumpled piece of paper instead. Then, she realized that she was still wearing Stephen's sweatshirt not her own.
Her curiosity got the better of her, so as she pulled into her space at the apartment, she put the car in park and unfolded everything she had always wanted to say, and yet, it was actually his words, but for whom?
"well, what do I do with this?" she thought to herself, and as she tried to fold the paper back to its original crumpled state, and place it back into the sweatshirt she had to sit a minute and just breathe, because her heart was pounding too much for her to move.
Ah. It is times like this that we figure out who we are. It all comes to you in the silence of a late night, when everyone else is asleep and you still haven’t gotten out the car you parked fifteen minutes ago. When you realize your existence is not just your own and that somewhere on the other end of town, on the other end of the world, someone has taken in part of you forever. You figure out that someone loves you back. Yeah, you figure out who you are a little bit more.
You never want to leave a moment like that. You never want to leave that parked car, because it’s perfect right there. For a little while you’re perfect and life is perfect and he is perfect. And there’s no fighting, there’s no confusion, there’s no doubts…only perfection. And the only real thing she ever had to fear for the rest of her life was forgetting what she felt in this car right now.
The next morning, as he was leaving for work, Stephen almost stepped on something lying on his porch. There was the sweatshirt that Claire had left wearing last night, folded neatly. All of a sudden Stephen realized what had been left in the pocket, and as if the would take back the fact that she had probably read the words that until now he had decided were better left unspoken, he lunged down and checked the pocket. There it was. Folded just as neatly as the shirt.
He decided it would make him feel better to just open it up and check the words, and remember what he knew he had written. As he unfolded it however, he realized that it wasn't his note that he was reading. This paper was new, and the handwriting inside was not his...it was Claire's.
'Here's a word for you: COWARD. I've had enough words in my life. Don't tell me that you love me, show me.
Until -
Claire'
Sometimes people say that other people just aren’t ready for love. That's hardly true. Probably it is never true. Really what should be said is that some people just aren’t ready for all the stuff that comes along with love. Stephen was beginning to wonder if he ever would be.
“Who’s she calling a coward?” he mumbled to the rose bushes planted at his front door that he could have sworn were trying to get a glimpse of the note too, “I mean, what does she want from me? What is this performance, this showing her love? I show her I love her all the time… right?”
The rose bushes had nothing to say in return.
“Nosy bushes. Mind your own business.” He crumpled the paper, stuffed it into his back pocket, jumped into his 1998 Nissan Altima and sped off. “I do love you Claire. And I do want to show you”.
After pulling over into an abandoned parking lot, he hesitantly untucked his shirt and closed his eyes. It was time to go. He had to do this.
What seemed like a thousand colors swirled and twirled in his vision, each one seducing the next into an orgy of light and tint and shading. It was a sight of beauty too much for words, at least if he had not been absolutely nauseous at the moment. Traveling like this always made him sick to his stomach.
It had been awhile since Stephen had decided to push the little hidden button in his abdomen, the one that looked a whole lot like a regular human’s bellybutton. And now he was ripping through time and space, ready to pop out on the other side of things.
“If only Claire knew this side of me,” he heard his own thoughts echoing around him, “this is what has held me back. She would never understand.”
Images and memories of Claire floated in and out of the colors. He saw her smiling face, her little toes sticking out from under the covers that one early morning, the utter despair in her eyes the day her father died, how heavy she felt that time she had fallen asleep on his chest when they were watching “Reality at the End of the World”.
“Claire is so pretty when she’s sleeping.” Once again his thoughts made audible in the space around him. “If I really love her, I have to tell her.”
Suddenly all was black. He had finally arrived.
One time when they were "sharing" (that's what Claire always called it when she was just tipsy enough to loosen her lips a little) Claire had asked him if he could go back in time and relive one moment, have a chance to do something differently, which one would it be.
He had wished she knew that it was not just a "what if" kind of question for him that she was asking. That he had the ability to do it all over again, and over and over and over as many times as he wanted. Although, he realized the gravity of his decision to do so, and only did when it seemed his last available option.
Here is was, standing in the middle of the movie theater. He knew her right away, she was the only person who brought her own blanket into the movies. As soon as he say that floral puffy lump halfway up the rows of folded theater chairs, he knew he had found her. There he was standing in the middle of the moment he had wished from the day that it happened that he could relive, but never really found it necessary to do so. This was the moment he always felt had changed the state of he and Claire's relationship forever, made it impossible for him to let go and let himself love her, no matter how much he wanted to, or knew he really did.
Just like old 80's movies were her Ben and Jerry's. Going to the theater was like upgrading from eating out of a bowl to eating straight out of the pint.
She was watching an all-day marathon of Judy Garland films. He slipped up to the projector room before she noticed him standing there watching her watch the movie.
He busted into the room, and looked around. There was a greasy teenager seated half asleep near the projector, who looked like the jolt from this unexpected visitor was enough to wake him from this apathy and junior mint induced coma.
"What am I doing HERE?!" Stephen yelled, at the young man, but really not to him, "It all seemed so clear before, and now that I'm here.... I just don't know what I'm supposed to do. Every time I do this, its like it jumbles all my thoughts around so much that I can't get them straight again. Just once I would like to leave and make it here without completely forgetting what the heck I'm doing."
A pimpled face just stared blankly back at him. After a silence too long to make either one of them comfortable with their circumstance, the teenager turned to him, "Girl Problems?"
Stephen huffed. "You got it."
"I've got to think. I've got to figure out what I want. How dare she read that letter. How could I forget that it was in that pocket. How do I make things better NOW, HERE, when she doesnt even know we are fighting. She doesnt even know about the letter. Does she even know how she feels yet?" He couldnt think fast enough to keep up with all the questions that seemed to be hitting him all at once.
"Well, I guess I better do something" he said again outloud, again at the teenager, but not really to him. He leaned over grabbed a junior mint, popped it in his mouth, and walked out the door.
Besides Claire, the entire room was empty. There she was, completely enthralled in her movie. She loved Judy Garland movies. Absolutely loved them and had wanted him to be there with her, to love them too.
Stephen felt the sharp pain in his chest when he remembered that he had dismissed the idea of joining her on this night. He had something better to do, although now he had no idea what it was, just that surely it wasn’t anything better than being with Claire. It was only in this moment that he had understood this. But for a while he just stood there, at the back of the room, watching her sitting alone.
How could he have been so blind? It wasn’t about remembering anniversaries or birthdays. It wasn’t about flowers or chocolates or letters. It wasn’t about sex, wasn’t about wearing a ring or going on vacations. He wanted to watch a hundred Judy Garland movies with her. He wanted her to never stop wanting him to be there with her, all curled up in her blanket, in the middle of an otherwise empty theatre. He wanted her to never feel alone again for the rest of her life.
Quietly he walked down the dark aisle and slipped into the seat next to her.
“Stephen!” her eyes completely disbelieving what they saw “I thought you weren’t going to be able to-”
“Claire” he started to say something, something profound, something that could change everything. “I… I missed you. I missed too much of you.”
Her eyes softened.
And then he kissed her. For the first time he kissed her. And for the first time he surrendered. Eternity in a kiss.
“God, I love your smell.” He said, barely pulling away from her lips.
She smiled, with eyes still closed, floating now from within the moment of a kiss.
“You always plucked my strings, pretty girl, that’s for sure. You play them like a pro and you’re so damn beautiful. Do you even know how beautiful you are? I wish you could see you like I see you. I wish you could see what you look like when you’re sleeping or when you’re crying. You’re a million moments. Does that make any sense to you? It may not, but just know that I miss you all the time. Even hours in your presence and I still miss you. And that’s what doesn’t make sense to me. I’m not sure if I could ever explain how much I love your smell or how great you taste. Really, it looks effortless the way you play those strings and if this isn’t eternal then what a cruel joke it could become.”
There was so much he was trying to say to her. She just stared into his eyes. Had she even heard him? Could she understand?
Tears cut down Stephen’s face now. He knew the length of his stay in this time and this place was almost up. Soon he would be wisped back to the present time. And nothing that happened here would have changed what he would return to. He would have to return to a place where Claire no longer was. More tears flooded his eyes as he remembered the sweater with the little note in its pocket. He remembered the phone call he would get later in that day. ‘Stephen, something terrible has happened. It’s Claire. You better get down here.
Countless times he had flipped the small switch in his stomach, trying to somehow save her. If somehow he could have just cut through the span of time and emerged at the moment of her accident. Maybe he could stop her. Maybe he could save her. But always he was brought here to this moment. Always he was brought to this theatre.
“Stephen, I don’t know what’s come over you,” she smiled and smeared away his tears “But I love you for deciding to come to be with me. I love you very much. Do you know that?”
Claire couldn't stand not hearing from Stephen. Especially how she just left his sweatshirt on the doorstep like that. She couldn't stand any of it. It was too much. So she had to do what she always did when things got to be too much. She left.
She decided to go and see Wyatt. He was always so amazing. There was never that romantic tension between them. Ever. He was a good friend from college, and later became her refuge when things just got to be clostrophobic. This day, he happened to just be out in the country with his parents and it was a drive that helped her clear her mind, and being out in the country with him and his family always helped make things make sense.
"Wyatt, I'm coming to see you. I'll be there about dinner time." That's all that had to be said, and she loved that.
When she got there, she found something she would never have expected. She was going to forget about the whole Stephen thing. Not to forget about him, but to forget about how much she may have just messed up the one thing in this world that she wanted. How days before it wasnt much better, her loving him, and not knowing how he felt, and always just being anxious and waiting for him to say anything. She just had to turn her mind off for a bit. And so, she grabbed her bag out of the car and knocked on the front door.
"Claire!" Wyatt said and grabbed her in a huge hug. Seconds later there was his mother, telling her how great she looked, how much she was missed around there, how great it was that she decided to drop in, and there was this amazing smell of cookies in the oven and burgers on the grill. "ahh..." She finally took a real breath, and it felt so good.
Her and Wyatt, just caught up a bit, talking about what was going on with work for each of them, how their dogs were, who they were dating at the time. Wyatt never changed. Still working all the time, still loving his life, still single, because nothing ever came around that made him feel like it was worth getting off track for. That's one thing she loved about this old friend, Wyatt, Old Faithful, she not only always knew where she stood with him, she always knew where she would find him.
The night was amazing, laughing, and hearing great old stories from his parents, enjoying the fresh air, and their deck facing the lake, enjoying a home cooked meal, and later enjoying some quiet time, just sitting and not talking and listening to the humming of nature all around them as it woke up for the night.
Then, there it was, the moment it happened. There they sat, and then... there it was his hand holding hers... her foot slipped gently behind his calf... not a word was said, but the world stopped for a minute, and took a deep breath right along with Claire.
She knew that she was going to have to get in her car soon and drive back to reality, but she wasnt ready to let go of this something new, and strangely comfortable thing that was happening without her conscious choice, or consent. She knew she was going to have to say something soon, but she knew she didn't want to ruin it just yet. There she was trying to escape dealing with the love she had for Stephen, and letting go just as fast as it seemed to all be happening, in those ten fingers interlocked, she was falling in love with Wyatt. How could that be? Wyatt? Really? Where was this coming from?
Stephen couldnt figure out where she was. Now that he was back, and back with a mission, she wasn't any of the normal places he would find her on a Thursday night. Her mother is the one who had called. She hadn't called for her weekly conversation, and as usual her mother had majorly overreacted, "Stephen, something terrible has happened. It’s Claire. You better get down here."
at 09/01/05 3:03PM
-1-
She played with the envelope in her hand as she waited for her number to flash on the screen attached to the back wall. She was remembering the day she had bought that card, not at all paying attention to the repetitive blinking of 75 before her eyes, although all too aware that she still had quite a wait ahead of her.
She has been looking for thank you notes, ones to fit each person just right, when she had come across this card. Obviously, discarded by the person who had read it before her. It was this plain white square, with that message typed across the front, propped against a sparkly stack of cards where Woodstock was giving Snoopy a big high five wing to paw.
The message had seemed sort of creepy. It seemed to be intended for someone for which she had no one in mind. Yet, she added it to her cart, and headed to check out.
As she walked out of the store, she remembers asking herself, "What was the purpose of that?" She definitely didn't have the money to spare at the time, although, what's a card? Not even a gallon of gas... "It doesn't even sound romantic" she continued to think, not in her notions of romance anyways.
What could the sayer of this quote have possibly meant? "'There is not one particle of you that I don't know, remember, or want'?" Just who did this Noel Coward think she was? "I need to remember to go look this person up, maybe she is some form of infamous stalker, or something 'romantic' like that." ha.
What a funny name for a stalker: coward.
She came to in line, looked up to see the bright number of 79..still some time left to think. It seemed a little ironic. At the time she had bought the card the kind of love expressed in this little misfit of a card didn't exist in her world. As she stood waiting to mail it, it was the person who she had learned to love in that way whose non-existence she was having to grasp.
"Why mail the card? Why now? What is the power this creepy little card holds on me, compelling me to do irrational things with it?"
...
-2-
She had never been more happy to have gotten a letter back, never more sad, either.
How could they have made such a mistake?
The papers had said he had been the one killed in the accident. Of course, the two of them were together that night, but it hadnt been him that died at all. Instead, it had been Scott.
Worse, how could she have been relieved? Scott had been the one she had dated all those years. Scott had been the one everyone thought she would end up with. Scott had been the one. (Or so it seemed.)
She had never been so happy for a typo in the local paper. She had never been so happy she saved that alumni directory from her high school. She had never been so happy to get mail amongst all the weekly coupons, and postcards advertising sales and deals she probably shouldn't pass up, all though the only thing she never passed up was the opportunity to toss all that in the trash on her way back to her car after stopping at that Post Office box.
It had been over five years, but she recognized the handwriting still from senior year english class. They had been assigned in pairs to proof papers. His had floored her. She had never read something so insightful. Of course, she had known him for years, he had been Scott's best friend after all. But this was the first time she got to really see him. See that there was something more, something even he wouldn't recognize.
Yet, life moves on, and people make choices. She was happy however, that it seemed his parents had not moved on, had not made any choices to leave since that directory was printed.
Now, she tried to think back to everything she had confessed in that silly note. That note that poured out her 18 year old heart, and then her 24 year old heart...
Had he thought she was crazy? Had he even remembered her at all?
She was hoping since they now walked hand and hand, leaving the crowd behind that the answers were No. and Yes.
...
at 09/01/05 3:02PM
She played with the envelope in her hand as she waited for her number to flash on the screen attached to the back wall. She was remembering the day she had bought that card, not at all paying attention to the repetitive blinking of 75 before her eyes, although all too aware that she still had quite a wait ahead of her.
She has been looking for thank you notes, ones to fit each person just right, when she had come across this card. Obviously, discarded by the person who had read it before her. It was this plain white square, with that message typed across the front, propped against a sparkly stack of cards where Woodstock was giving Snoopy a big high five wing to paw.
The message had seemed sort of creepy. It seemed to be intended for someone for which she had no one in mind. Yet, she added it to her cart, and headed to check out.
As she walked out of the store, she remembers asking herself, "What was the purpose of that?" She definitely didn't have the money to spare at the time, although, what's a card? Not even a gallon of gas... "It doesn't even sound romantic" she continued to think, not in her notions of romance anyways.
What could the sayer of this quote have possibly meant? "'There is not one particle of you that I don't know, remember, or want'?" Just who did this Noel Coward think she was? "I need to remember to go look this person up, maybe she is some form of infamous stalker, or something 'romantic' like that." ha.
What a funny name for a stalker: coward.
She came to in line, looked up to see the bright number of 79..still some time left to think. It seemed a little ironic. At the time she had bought the card the kind of love expressed in this little misfit of a card didn't exist in her world. As she stood waiting to mail it, it was the person who she had learned to love in that way whose non-existence she was having to grasp.
"Why mail the card? Why now? What is the power this creepy little card holds on me, motivating me to do irrational things with it?"
...
Sounds to me like old Chaz has a secret stash of chocolate.
