“Allow me to speak candidly,” she said with earnestness to no one in particular before finding herself poised halfway between the kitchen and the veranda staring out the window.
And just like that, the realization that had prompted the remark in the first place drifted out of her consciousness and on to wherever such realizations go when unattended.
And so it was that she sat down once again to a cup of camomile tea and a romance novel to while away a long day’s afternoon.
Take care not to waken
the pain of this world
in a child with an agile heart.
Or she’ll learn way too soon
to hide all her shine.
Take care of her fragile heart.
“I’m still looking for that loophole,” she said to no one in particular, as she lit up another Marlboro to replace the one she’d just smoked down to a nubbin before tamping it out in the Hellman’s jar top she used as an ashtray.
As the cat rubbed her ankles, she paused a moment to reflect on the fact that she’d probably never find one, but she said it again anyway, with a tiny, grim little laugh, “Yep, I’m still looking for the loophole.”
And with that, she went back to cutting coupons out of the Post, shaking her head at the price of milk these days.
Drains the last of the bottle
Looking out into the blue-black bruise of night
No trains coming through ’til morning
In a blackout he meets his own dark soul
But he won’t remember it in the morning
He listens with Jack Daniels’ ears
For something, for anything
He watches the static of the old tv
Waiting for God to speak to him again
And just before he passes out
He has an epiphany, which is then lost
“I’ve forgotten how to be in my own body,” she said
“I feel like I have woken up in a foreign land”
I took her by the hand
Led her down the the sea
“Sit down and let the waves remind you,” I said
We lay back, and with closed eyes
Became one with the ocean
The undulation, the caress and push-pull
We let ourselves be swallowed
And we became mermaids again
Bodies arching, diving
Arms moving through the water
Embracing the flow of the tide
She started crying tears of deeply relieved joy
And so then did I, to see her find home again
Our salt tears mixed with the salt of the sea
And when we finally returned to the shore and found our legs again
We took the ocean with us in the sway of our hips
And the pulse of our hearts
“Brilliant, just brilliant,” she said to no one in particular as she heard the sickening metallic sound of the car’s right front shank as it scraped along the cement wall that she had tried to avoid having to drive by in the first place.
Had it not been for the annoying oversized truck that had stopped just before the exit, blocking it, she’d never have taken the sharply curved driveway leading out of the parking garage at such a fast pace.
She didn’t stop to survey the damage – what was done was done – but as she drove off, she quickly began thinking of scenarios (other than her own road rage) that might help her husband take the news more easily.
“Winsome, I am not,” she said through gritted teeth to no one in particular as she sucked in a third time and desperately tried to pull her usual size 6 jeans’ zipper up.
Sadly, it would not go past halfway, and she was left with the sinking-in reality that she had indeed put on some weight around her hips over the holidays despite her best efforts to be mindful of her sweets and alcohol intake.
She peeled off the betraying jeans with a few choice swear words, leaving them in a pile, and dejectedly put on her comfy sweat pants vowing not to eat again until those GD jeans fit.
“I’m sorry, sir, but we have no reservation under that name,” she said in a put-on pseudo-British accent to no one in particular just as the timer on the microwave turned over to zero and made its angry announcement that her TV dinner was heated through.
“You’ll have to make other arrangements for this evening’s repast.”
And with that, she delivered her meal with a sly, self-satisfied smile and a flourish to the folding tray at the Laz E boy recliner in front of the TV, eager to return to her beloved The Price is Right reruns.
“I will never confess it,” she said to no one in particular as she put the secret ingredient into her famous Texas Candy recipe.
Many had tried to guess what it was; many had pressed her hard to tell.
She knew they’d never figure it out, and with that, she smiled a little self-satisfied smile and set them out to cool.
“Hmmph,” she said to no one in particular as was her proclivity as she looked down at the lipstick mark her lips made after the first sip of her first cup of coffee of the day.
With a little too much force, she wiped away every trace of Eldorado Red from the rim of her cup before taking the next sip.
And thus began her morning routine, sipping, swiping and then sipping again, which oddly gave her a feeling of extreme self-satisfaction every time.
Beyond the Skinny Branches 