Thelma Orinion

“Thelma Orinion, like onion with an extra ri.” I explained for the near millionth time in my life. You see I have been around for a while and unfortunately I have had several opportunities to give this speech about how to pronounce my name.

This time was a little different though. In all my 90 years of life I had never had the displeasure of having to explain my name to a stranger on whom I would have to depend so heavily.

“Well I’m Sally Ortego.” Said that ‘sweet lil’thing from down south’, oh how I hated that accent. And it didn’t help that she was so beautiful and young. As I watched those vibrant milky white breasts shake slightly in a red bra that showed through her white nurses coat and squeezed those luscious round breasts tightly together, I couldn’t help but feel an old and saggy dinosaur.

“Okay Miss Orinion, I’ll be by every mornin at 8am to make sure you get your pills, help you with your bath, and take care of anything else you need.”

It really wasn’t that bad. I didn’t mind her too much but it was more what she represented. Her being here meant that I had to admit that I really was getting old and I had to finally let go of the independence I had always held onto so tightly. I often thought about finding a way to go that would spare my family the need to take care of me, and to spare people like sweet little Sally the trouble of coming and help me with such simple tasks, but I just couldn’t find the courage.

If it weren’t for that accident I could have probably made it through another year or so, but after that there was no way my kids would allow me to go back to things they were. Anyway I could tell that the next few years, if I lasted that long, would be more difficult than I expected.

An Eye for an Eye

I stop, still in shock. Bugs scurry around the water top sending ripples across the surface. Ducks play dunking and quacking without the slightest awareness of being watched by a man capable of such things. Despite the busy animals, insects and sea dwellers, the lake contains a stillness that reminds me of the act I have committed. The lake seems an entity that continues on eternally silently observing the horrible things that men are capable of.

I turn my attention from the mystifying tranquility of the lake to my own shaking hands. They are the hands of one suddenly thrust into a deep penetrating reality. Hands forced into a violent loss of innocence. As I watch them tremble I am overcome with the desire to bring them to the cold dark surface of the water. My fingers slowly penetrate the seemingly solid lake sending a violent shockwave that seems to contaminate the purity of the lake.

I begin to rub my hands together attempting to somehow cleanse them of the horror they have perpetrated, slowly at first wanting to disturb the tranquility of the lake as little as possible. But as the filth won’t seem to go away I rub them together more and more violently losing control. The whole thing flashes before my eyes one frame at time and tears fill my eyes.

Why? Why me? I can’t seem to make sense of it, it all happened so fast. A bitter chuckle rises in my chest as I realize how it all started, going out for something as trivial as a stupid carton of milk.

“Damn it honey, how could you forget the milk? I told you over and over again ‘don’t forget the milk’!”

“I’m sorry okay?! Maybe I’m a little distracted.”

“You’re distracted?! Jesus! How do you think I feel?”

“You think you’re the only one who’s upset? Just because you carried the damn thing for four months doesn’t mean I feel any better than you do!” I suppressed a sob.

She paused. “I’m sorry.” As she began to weep I couldn’t bare to look into those eyes.

“Ill go get the milk.”

“No, forget it it’s late.”

“No, its okay. Be right back.” I grabbed my coat and headed to the door hesitating as my hand reached the doorknob. “Baby?,” My voice broke as she looked up. “I love you.”

She began to sob loudly, fidgeting with the bandage on her thin delicate wrist, as I closed the door behind me tears running down my own cheeks as well. She had come out of it with only a sprained wrist; the doctor said she was luck. Lucky.

I began to laugh savagely, removing my hands from the water, as I realized I still didn’t have the milk.

I left the house in whirl of emotions. I felt angry, sad, but most of all guilty. Even with four months to think about it I still hadn’t felt ready. I suppose somewhere deep down I even wanted this to happen. But now that it was gone I wanted nothing more than to bring it back. Strange, it took losing it to finally realize that I was ready, no we were ready.

All this felt so far away now though. It had been a long night. There was a seven Eleven only about two blocks away, but I needed a minute. The Icy chill of the fresh Colorado air was comforting as I took each breath and then slowly let it out watching the misty cloud form with each exhalation. Passing the Seven Eleven I watched strangers rushing through the night bundled in their heavy winter coats. It was after 11 and yet the mile high city was still scattered with people walking along, some hurrying home after a long day at the office, briefcase dangling lazily at their side. Others meandering along as dogs scrambled in front of them dragging them forward, stopping only to sniff and pee here and there. Homeless people gathered around fires with their fingerless gloves light dancing on their faces. It was comforting seeing so many people. It slightly relieved the painful loneliness I had been unable to shake. As I walked, each step seemed to clear my head just a little more, until I saw him.

Sonofabitch, could it really be him? No fucking way. I believe in God. But sometimes you have those days that really try your faith. This was not one of those days. This was far worse. As I stood staring in disbelief, I thought my God, if you are really there then what the FUCK is this? I am not normally one to curse, not even in my thoughts, but this was going too far. I stood there frozen as my surroundings faded into a blur and all I could see was him. I would recognize him anywhere. His baggy clothes with pants hanging far too low checkered boxers hanging out. He had dirty blond hair, narrow eyes and a punk face that matched his walk. Tears blurred my vision as my hands clenched tightly into fists, knuckles turning white; I felt a distant pinching where my nails dug into my palms.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I heard myself whisper as he drew closer.

Just recognizing me, he stopped and took a step back. “Wow man, look I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, it was an accident.”

“An accident?”

“Yea man, me and my buddies were talking, and I was distracted.”

“Distracted?” I was so overwhelmed all I could seem to do was to repeat what he said.

“Come on man the bitch came out of nowhere, and how was I supposed to know she was pregnant?” A smirk crossed his lips, that to me was pure evil. “I bet you didn’t even want the little fucker anyway.”

That was going too far. “What the hell did you just say to me?” I couldn’t control myself any longer. I felt my hands unclench as I took a step toward him.

“Hey take it easy!”

“Take it easy?” I snapped as my steps quickened, heart pounding, breath coming more difficulty with each inhale. My hands contacted his chest pushing him backwards. “Take it easy?” I repeated through clenched teeth. He stumbled backward as I pushed him over and over again. The lights approached so quickly and in that instant I pushed him one last time. I could say it came out of nowhere, or I didn’t see it coming. This was half true. I really hadn’t seen it until the last second. But in that second I made the very deliberate decision to push him again. I wanted him dead. I wanted him to pay for the life he had taken, for the pain he had caused me. The bus hit him hard in the right shoulder his face construed in pain and surprise as it knocked him forward. He hit the ground hard, half rolling half bouncing, savagely landing on his back as the bus ran over his right arm with the back wheels. The bus screeched to a stop and I begun to back away. As I turned to run I couldn’t get the image out of my head. He just lied there his now empty eyes filled with a stillness matched only by a deep dark lake on a cold autumn morning.

Lucky

It was a sunny day that found three friends hiding from the sun inside a tiny (Maira preferred to think of it as cozy) cottage by the New Jersey shore. Not that it wasn’t comfortable, it was, but she, Vance, and Leopold were only inside to escape the oppressive heat while they weren’t in the ocean. At least that had been the original plan when she had suggested it.
That idea had gotten hijacked the moment Vance had opened his mouth.
“If we had met in High School...”
Out of the corner of her eye Maira saw Vance pause for a moment in the process of eating his carrot, as if wondering whether or not to continue his thought.
“Hm...?” Intrigued, she glanced up from her cup of yogurt and cereal she had been industriously stirring.
Leo merely rolled his eyes and continued to slice the green apple on the cutting board. He had, Maira thought, like herself, probably already figured out where his younger brother was headed.
“If it hadn't been in kinder garden, but in high school. If we had met each other then... the three of us, I mean, would we still be friends?”
The question didn’t surprise Maira but she knitted her eyebrows in slight confusion anyway. “We didn’t though.”
“But if we had,” Van persisted. “Would we have been friends?”
Maira opened her mouth to reply, before closing it again as she considered the question more carefully, as well as to finish chewing. “Like we are now? Or as a general rule?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Well, you’re in luck, the answer’s the same. No.”
“No!?” Leopold promptly proceeded to choke on the apple slice he had just put in his mouth as he heard his friends response. “You call that lucky?”
Van shot his elder brother a nasty look, “You know what she meant.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Leo thumped his chest lightly as he replied, “And?”
This time it was Van with whom Maira exchanged a resigned glance, “Nothing. Look, we’ve been together for too long for it to matter, so why worry?”
“Because it’s what he does.”
“Because,” Van paused to shoot Leo another dirty look, “I can’t help it. You’re one of the few people I know in my life, right now, who... that I can picture myself still being friends with when we’re all old and gray. So I wonder, if things had been different, would I still feel this way?”
Maira shrugged. She was touched by his sentiments, she shared them, but still, she remained unconcerned with that line of thought. “We’re different now. We hang out with different groups of people. Not that it matters, but we do.”
“Then why are we still friends? How can I feel this way about our friendship? If we’re so different from one another?” Van didn’t seem genuinely confused, just a bit worried. Like one who spent too much of his time thinking over what he was asking, as well as the possible responses.
“Maybe it’s because... ” Maira placed her cup, now finished, on the counter as she moved to the fridge to search for something to drink. “We’ve already tested, and still maintained, our friendship we formed all those years ago. So even if we’re different now, which can’t be helped, we’ve still grown up and shared experiences together.”
“Yeah, through our parents-” Leopold pulled out a few more cups for his friend to pour the juice into.
“That didn’t matter though.”
“-not that is matters,” he looked reproachfully at Maira for interrupting him.
She grinned cheekily back at him, before she turned back to his younger brother, “But the point is our friendship was tested already and we know, after everything we’ve been through that no matter how different we all are, now or in the future, that we’ll remain friends.”
“Cheers to that,” Leo raised his glass of cider.
Van stared at his cup for a moment, “it needs cinnamon,” but raised his as well.
The glasses clinked and once more it was silent in the beach house.

New Beginnings

"Robin toasted the bagel," she said.

"Yes, I know, but I had wanted my bagel UN-toasted."

"Well, he was just trying to help... you did call him lazy."

"Yes," Alex griped, "and now he's lazy, and incompetent, I clearly stated that my bagel should be UN-toasted."

Today, Alex would accept nothing less than perfect.  If all went right, it would be a blissful day that he would always remember and hold dear to his heart.  He had waited much too long for this particular day, and with the world changing, there was no time like the present.  The ceremonial happenings of a wedding, his wedding to be exact, were in full swing.  He mentally patted himself on the back for everything and anything that had gone into the planning.  For in fact, he was the genius behind even the most minuscule of details.  From the pink posies (Pat's favorite) lining the stretch of aisle toward the hand-crafted gazebo where the priest was to stand, to the thoughtful homemade cookies (a recipe which he was famous for) decadently packaged and placed at specific intervals on the guests' tables as party favors.  Of course everything would be spectacular.

Alex finished half of the now cold bagel (which had hardened due to the toasting), and tossed the rest into the posh silver waste bin beside him.  No matter, he was too excited to eat anyway.

"Relax, would you? Everything's going to go off without a hitch," she teased.

"Good god," Alex smiled wryly, "sometimes you still act as though we're four, and the only thing that can go wrong is Barbie having a bad hair day."

"Don't I wish it! - I think it's about that time to kick you out of here though."

"Okay well...I'll catch up with you later, at the hotel.  Whatever you do Ang, don't be late!  I'll have your head."  He chuckled, but with a serious undertone.

Cold feet was the farthest thing from his mind as he walked, rather, skipped down the small steps leading toward his sister's modernist apartment.  The apartment itself, was an eyesore for passersby, but he had saved the day (as he liked to remind his sister often) with his tasteful styling of all that lay within. He had lucked out today, scoring the parking slot right in front of the simplistic building.  Just as he was placing the key into the door of his fairly new midnight blue audi, memory flushed in:

It had been a gloomy Sunday, and Alex had gone to visit his sister, Angela, as always, for brunch.  He had driven up to the same exact spot he was in now, and had almost hit someone.  That someone had turned out to be the love of his life.  Cliche, but it worked.

Entering the classy decorated venue was a delight, appealing to his senses (just as he had envisioned).  Caterers were bumbling about and his assistant Bill was fussing with the lighting.  Alex walked over to see what the problem was.

"Oh, thank god, someone sane, I told them which notch would set the correct ambiance" he sighed. "They just don't get it!  Who is unable to tell the difference between eggshell white and-"

"Bill, it's my wedding, and you're the one about to have an aneurysm.  I'll handle this while you go get us drinks."

"If only we all had your calm, Ghandi...two Black Russians it is."  

There was a slightly sweet aroma coming from the various shades of pinks and purples, blended beautifully in floral arrangements hanging off the walls and sitting atop crisp white tablecloths:

The main attractions of the evening (besides Pat) were the tables he'd set up.  The ugliness that would seep into their lives, if only for a short time, was shadowed beneath crisp white linen.  This was the important day of families meeting, hopefully meshing, and accepting each other.  Although, both Pat and Alex knew it didn't quite take well on first glance, not because of the different colors of their skin, but because they were also, perhaps mainly, out of the norm in general.  They always knew they would make it work, and they had done just that.

Boy do I look sharp, Alex thought to himself, as he finished tying the traditional bow on his on his tuxedo.  With lapels at just the right length, and cuff links shiner than a newly coined penny, he stepped out of the groom's 'waiting room', knowing it was time.  On his way down the plush carpeted steps in the hall, he passed an exquisite abstract painting, immediately reminding him of Pat, and all was right:

The art show itself, was just about over, and Pat and he were having a tiff about the painting he wanted to purchase.  "It's hideous Dear, really, I'll gag if I have to wake to that every morning,"  Pat frowned.  Alex laughed, for just the previous day; the decision of moving in together had been a success.  Compromising, however, was still under construction.

Alex wiped the tear out of the corner of his eye, as Pat gracefully came into view.  The melodious wedding song wafted sweetly from the fine string quartet and throughout the room.  Friends and family smiled as Pat passed by.  What a relief.  It had taken some time to get to, but there they were. Together.

The priest commenced his spoken words, but all Alex could manage was a dead-on stare at the priest's face:

It showed their commitment that they could handle such ignorance from others.  That day was so vivid.  It was a light afternoon picnic in the park, when that foul old man (the one with the priest's features) walked toward them cursing horrible nonsense saying something along the lines of things not being the way they used to, and he hoped they had fun burning in hell.  He was surely crazy, but they had left anyway, determined not to let it sour their day.  Their engagement day.  If anything, it had only made their love and connection stronger.

"I now pronounce you, Man and Man," the priest finished.  "You may kiss your husband; and it is my honor to present to you all, Mr. and Mr. Thompson-Black."

Laughing and merriment filled the hotel till the close of the day.  It signaled a new beginning for not only, Pat and Alex, but for the world's journey of acceptance with them.

Anna

The moment the last morsel was swallowed, regret set in.  She was alone once again, and her surroundings seemed to melt off into the distance; what ensued next, was forgotten as if she were on autopilot.  Mechanical lacing of shoelaces followed the mindless changing of clothes.  She was tired of this endless cycle.  So familiar, comfortable even, yet danger was approaching, coming to visit.

The repetitive pounding of shoe soles on the slightly worn tread belt had always calmed her.  Tonight was different.  All else was silent, but the music playing in her head. Well, not coming from the depths of her mind, but streaming out of the tiny cube shaped mp3 player attached near her protruding hip bone.

"What was that?"

Although inevitable, she had hoped for a few more moments to herself.  The music drowned out, and now, nothing was there for distraction.  Surreal reality struck her as the voice asked again, this time louder:

"What was that?!"

She was too distraught to fight it.  Anna was here to reprimand.  To question, torment and reason with her; if reasoning meant Anna was always right, and she wrong.  Anna was her best friend, as well as her worst enemy.  For the three years they had known each other, one could clearly see who held dominance in the relationship.

"I can't believe you.  Why you put yourself in these kinds of situations never ceases to amaze me."

"I didn't mean for it to happen, sometimes I just can't get around it.  I know what comes next," she said.

"Punishment naturally," Anna pushed on, "it's only fair after what you did tonight.  Gross.  Do you realize how much this sets you back?  Us back?  Improvement really isn't your strong point."

"I don't know where my head was today.  I'm sorry; it...it must be all the stress lately."

Anna laughed.  "Stress is a shit excuse.  You know I'm here for you, helping you, but what difference does it make if you can't stop messing up?  You've disappointed me, and I never accept failure.  You're only hurting yourself."

She sighed.  "I don't feel like talking about it; I actually didn't think it was that bad."

"Not that bad?  That's exactly why I'm here.  Have you seen yourself lately?  You're definitely slipping, and don't think I'm the only one to notice.  I'm sure that guy you went out with on Tuesday had a laugh at that ugly outfit you were wearing.  Sweetie, he's a bit out of your league, huh?"

"Well, I suppose no call in a week means no second date.  I thought we had hit it off..."

"You know what happened.  What guy would take interest in what you've become?  I'm telling you this for your own good.  You need to get back on track...Where's your damn will power?"

The jolt into sudden clarity made her feet falter.  She gripped the handles of the treadmill to regain her balance.  She stood still, with "Who I Am, Hates Who I've Been" blasting into her eardrums.  She was drenched, and slippery sweat trickled down her face, mingling with the tears she could not stop from flowing.  After glancing at the clock, reading 11:37 PM, she forced herself off of the machine.  The machine she depended on, after every failure.  What was so common to her, something she hated, but she was smart enough to realize that there was no escape.  Her fear from earlier had dissipated as it always did.  She needed that support, and therefore, it was something she loved too: a connection to her friend, Anna.  A smile crept upon her face.  It was just an ordinary night, and she was content in knowing it was not the last visit.

Cindy's Drunk at Seven Again

“Drunk at eight in the morning? No, drunk at seven.” I look at the woman at the front desk with a wry smile, pointing at an invisible watch on my wrist. “And how are you today, Madame?”
“I’m fine Ms. Marcus. And may I remind you again, smoking is not allowed in the lounge area.” She looks at me with a gaze of pity and disgust and disinterest, all blended up in a nice delicious serving that I somehow always enjoy.
“Why of course, Madame.” I put out the cigarette that I had just lit onto the People magazine sitting on the coffee table in front of me, directly placing the embers on a lovely candid of some aged blonde actress’s stretched-out face.
I look up at the desk clerk and smile, a big toothy smile that I’m sure inspires much desire to give her dentist a ring. She picks up her phone, quietly talking into the receiver.
She looks at me and blandly says, “Dr. Hellreich will see you now.”
I stand up and walk towards the door next to the front desk, stopping briefly to wink at the desk clerk before opening the door and stepping inside.
“How’s it going baby cakes?” I say as I sit down on the comfy, coma-inspiring leather chair directly across from Dr. Hellreich. As I lay back I let out a long, blissful sigh.
“You smell like liquor, Cindy.” She wryly states as she stares at me from over her glasses.
“It’s a new perfume called ‘Fuck Life’. I bought it for five bucks at Macy’s. It was a bit expensive, but worth it. I think, at least.”
She scribbles something on the professional pad on her lap. “Why haven’t you been attending your AA meetings, Cindy?”
“Me and the guy in charge have an understanding, Dr. Hellreich. I don’t think my services are needed there anymore.” I nod my head, squinting my eyes in an attempt at seriousness.
“You mean Mike? Mike has said nothing of this to me. He says you stopped showing up about a month ago.”
“No, I mean Jesus Christ. Have you been attending church lately, Dr. Hellreich?” I quizzically gaze at her, slightly shifting my head to the side.
“This is not a laughing matter, Cindy. You need to attend those AA meetings, its part of the court agreement.”
“Jesus is never a laughing matter, doctor.” I slowly shake my head in disappointment, mildly glaring at her.
I begin to slide down the chair, stretching my legs out in front of me. “You know, I’ve been thinking. If I go back to court and plead born-again Christian, they’ll probably let me off. I can tell them how I saw Jesus’ eyes and realized I had to change my wicked ways. The jury will totally love me. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m very lovable.” I cross my hands behind my head, gazing at Dr. Hellreich’s wrinkly face. She has dark black eyebrows that must have taken hours to draw on so rigidly perfect, and an odd orange-tinted lipstick that adds an extra zing to her already frightening demeanor.
“Are you Christian then, Cindy?” Dr. Hellreich asks.
“Ooh, is this when we get all deep and metaphysical? I am in fact not Christian. I guess that does mildly put the kibosh on that whole born-again thing. You see I follow a fairly new religion. On the scale of ridiculous religions, it’s somewhere between Catholicism and Scientology. It’s called ‘Palimpious’. Basically, the teachings are very similar to a game of Scrabble. And Chess. But mostly Scrabble. I think it’s probably because I discovered it while playing a game of Scrabble. Or should I say, it discovered me?”
“If you’re going to resist therapy, Cindy, there is nothing I can do for you.”
“I wouldn’t exactly use the words ‘resisting,’ but yeah, I could possibly see where you’re coming from. But, Dr. Hellreich, tell me something. How do you feel the skillful use of words characteristic of our great savior, Palimpi, has affected your life?”
I can’t quite tell whether Dr. Hellreich is actually considering my question or desperately holding onto her stoic poise in order to not physically attack me. I would ponder it, but I can’t quite tell whether I care. So I sit up in my chair, glancing over at the clock on the desk. “Well, it looks like my fifteen minutes of fame are up, doctor.” I stand up, stretching my back a little bit before heading towards the door.
“This session is not over, Cindy. You need to be here for fifty-five more minutes, its part of the court order.” She says, quickly getting out of her chair.
“That’s a shame. It’s just…I have to hold to my beliefs you know? Stay strong!” I raise my fist as I open the door and step out into the waiting room. Before I shut the door I turn to look at Dr. Hellreich, giving her a quick smile and nod.
As I walk past, the desk clerk stares at me in obvious confusion.
“Peace, homes.” I say as I walk out the door.

Grin

I walked along a deep lush forest, where there would be no signs of human life for miles, in hopes to clear my thoughts of the action I had just committed. Branches and twigs cried beneath my feet as my weight fell upon them. Guilt ate through the soles of my shoes, every step, every crackle I could feel, a pain in which I knew I deserved. The only thing keeping my thoughts in line was a crystal clear lake I was headed toward. The calm lakes tranquility eased its way into me , lulling the racket that went on in my head. The glassy surface danced in a rainbow of colors with ever ripple left by the fish populating it.

However, as I got closer the rich colors began to lose its color and become paler, the light dimmed. The tranquility and the beauty that once was, slowly faded away. Now I stand at the lake’s shore and everything has changed. The rainbow colored ripples were now splashes of hope swallowing darkness. As I stared into this darkness, there was only one thing visible now. A reflection that stares back at me, though it is not my own. Its face shrouded in darkness, with a sinister grin that slices across of it.

“That isn’t me,” I shake my head in disbelief, “that’s not who I am. That’s not what I wanted to become.” My legs collapse beneath the weight of my sins, images of the past flashed before my eyes, each one stabbed through my soul.

Clouds form in the dark gray sky without my noticing. In moments it down poured, thankfully erasing my reflection from existence. Ripples tore apart the fiendish figure, his grin that will no longer be able to haunt me though my eyes. Though my mind couldn’t forget it. For a moment everything slowed down around me. Every drop of rain I could see clearly, and that’s when I saw it again. The evil grin was back, but this time he brought friends. I turned away but it didn’t matter. Every direction I would turn, the grin would be there.

Without anywhere to turn, I knelt over and shut my hands over my face. “If my eyes aren’t open, then I wont be able to see it,” I comforted myself, and for a while it worked. The sound of the rainfall calmed me down and eased the strain on my weakened heart. The splashing of the rain as it plummeted into the water started to sounded like a whisper. I could barley make it out at first, each droplet whispered “guilt” as they met their fate and melded with the lake below. It grew louder and louder. “Guilt, guilt, GUILT, “was hollered all around me, hundreds of times every second. I couldn’t take it anymore. I stood up and plunged head first into the murky lake. I opened my eyes into the nothingness that surrounded me. The noise was muffled now at least, soft enough that I was able to slip out of consciousness. Where the grin could no longer haunt me, where I could be at peace.