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Love is Often Not Enough

03 Monday Feb 2025

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book-review, books, college, horror, news, reviews, romance, short-story, writing, young-adult

Love is Often Not Enough – The Grantchester Series

I love the PBS series, Grantchester. It has been on for nine seasons and apparently, a lot of other people like it too. What’s not to like? Sidney Chambers, the Anglican priest of a small English town after the end of World War II. He is back from the war and is ready to tend his flock!

Sidney Chambers (James Norton) is tall, good looking, humble, sincere, intelligent and….savvy and intuitive enough to figure out who done it! His side-kick, the ever detective Geordie Keating (Robson Green) sometimes leads and sometimes follows his vicar as they investigate one murder after another. Between Sidney and Geordie, they usually catch their man (or woman) as the episode wraps up.

Sidney who is single, (and the most eligible bachelor in the county), is a contrast to Geordie; a married man with uncounted numbers of children running around. Geordie and vicarage housekeeper keep busy filling Sidney’s head with tid bits of country lore and folk wisdom. Much of it concerns romance.

Sidney’s long time ‘friend’ Amanda Kendall (Morven Chrisite,) is someone from his highschool. Whenever chums get together, the girls never stop ogling over Sidney. Amanda and Sidney spend long afternoons in the country and it is obvious how much they care for each other.

However, regardless of how many of their mutual friends are off tying the knot and how many asides and innuedios Amanda throws his way, Sidney never seems to be able to take things to the next level. There are several espisdoes when Amanda gets engaged, and is then marching to the alter, where we keep hoping against hope that the vicar will break his silence and tell the girl that he loves, how much he loves her.

But, nope, it is not to be and Amanda gets married and becomes Mrs. Hopkins. Finally, the truth comes out between Sidney and Geordie when the vicar admits “I just wasn’t in her league.” He is referring of course to the fact that Amanda comes from money and her father is Sir Kendell and they live in an exceptionally large house.

Clearly, Sidney cannot get over the economic distance between the two of them and is frozen in silence, never to confess his true feelings.

How often, in our lives, have we talked ourselves out of something with one rational after another? In the series, one of the characters remarked, “Because we are all a pack of cowards.” How true.

In my life, I have asked myself over and over again, why is it that the guy I really have my heart set on, can’t either talk to me or even ask me out for a cup of coffee. Like Sidney, men (and women) can be full of self doubt and lack feelings of worthiness. They talk themselves out of the first step in courtship “because” until such time as the other loses interest and the fire grow cold.

Self-doubt, recriminations, lack of self-worth, guilt, fear of what other people will say, fear of failure, of getting ‘hurt again’; these are all reasons people back away from relationships and even the promise of love. Both being in love and loving someone else. We let the little ‘nigglies’ invade our thoughts, poison them and deprive us of the full life we can have and do deserve. Then, instead of dealing with the fears, we act out in childish, immature and socially inappropriate ways; having affairs with married people, isolation, drinking too much, smoking too much, feeding any number of addictions, all in an effort to hide. Hide from ourselves.

cew

Devine Tragedy – Conclusion

24 Saturday Feb 2024

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Fiction, romance, short-story, writing, young-adult

The next day was Friday. Winter prom was one week away. Chloe approached her friend Becca.

“Becca, what do you say if we went ahead and went to the prom?”

“We don’t have dates,” Becca’s replied blankly.

“Yeah, well neither do a lot of the girls. Why don’t we bunch up and all go, together? It might be fun.”

“Well,” Becca wrinkled her brow in thought. “You know, why should the Jennifers in the world have all the fun? Let’s do it!”

Becca was the official social networker of their group. Chloe let her work her magic. Soon, there was a group of about ten loser girls with no dates who were willing to go stag. Becca was bubbling. Chloe could relax and focus on getting a dress and having her hair done. Her mother was surprised but not against the idea and started calling around hair shops.

“And,” said Chloe archly to Becca, “we’ll just go to that damn, dumb party at Jennifer’s house and say the Hell with all of them!”

“You’re brave, Chloe. I don’t know …”

“Don’t be a weenie, Becca. If we do it, we do it all the way.”

“Okay,” Becca replied, reluctance in her voice.

The big day arrived. Chloe had borrowed a cute satin cocktail dress from a friend. It was a jade green color, almost emerald and went well with her skin tone. She and mom had gone shopping for heels. She got a pair of killer black patent leathers with gold bands. Her hair was done up and the stylist managed to get every single curl in place. Mom arranged some little rhinestone pins throughout the do. Chloe looked at herself in the mirror. The stones twinkled back at her. Wow! She was looking good!

Her mom was crying, her dad was taking pictures; her little brother was lurking around the corners when Becca’s dad drove up and honked. Girls were piled in the SUV, giggling and laughing hysterically the whole way.

They had gotten permission to go to the after party as long as they were home by midnight. Two girls had their own cars and followed them.

The prom was set up in the school gym. The place had been transformed into a fairyland with lights, fake snow. Big, huge silver snowflakes hung on the curtains. Little round café tables were around the edges and candles flickered in the middle. Bowls of potpourri lent a scent of apples and pumpkin to the air.

“Do you see him?” Becca whispered.

“Who?”

“Oh, come on, Chloe. Oh, look, I think they are over there.” Becca held her finger low and pointed across the room.

Indeed, a stiff and uncomfortable looking Greg was sitting in a tux with both hands holding his knees. He looked a lot like he wanted to be somewhere else. Jennifer was in a froth of pink tulle with silver stars everywhere and was gabbing busily with friends clustered in tables around her. Kiki was close by in a low cut, tight fitting deep purple gown. Her hair was sparkling with gold shimmer, and she looked bored. Chloe watched her bend over and speak to a young man at her table. The two got up as one and disappeared.

“Oh, forget them, Chlo, let’s dance!” Becca and the girls commandeered some tables and were soon out on the dance floor giving it everything they’d got. Curiously enough, some of the guys from their class started to show up and several of the girls were then dancing with guys and not just girlfriends.

Winded, Chloe grabbed some punch and sat down to breathe. The disc jockey was playing a slow song. Unchained Melody, an oldie.

“Dance, Chloe?” she heard a masculine voice in her ear. She turned and it was Greg.

“Where’s Jenn?” she asked, incredulous.

“Oh, she went outside with some of her friends. Thought I would take a chance.” He smiled down at her.

Her stomach clutching, Chloe got up and he led her to the floor. She put her arms up, he took them, and they started a slow waltz.

“Reminds me of dance class, a long time ago,” he said.

“Yes, a long time ago.” Eventually, Chloe got closer and almost leaned her head against Greg’s shoulder. We feel so right together, the thought passed through her mind.

The music ended, Greg gave her the slightest bow and went back to his table. Chloe sank into her chair and stared at the dancers on the floor. Finally, a faint smile crept onto her face.

Becca came back and sat. “Wow, you look happy.”

“I am,” replied Chloe, “and we are definitely going to that after-party.”

“If you say so, chief.” Becca fanned herself.

At about eleven o’clock, Becca made the call, her dad appeared in front of the gym fifteen minutes later, and they piled in.

“Where are the other girls?” he asked.

“Oh, some got other rides, some went home. You know,” Becca tossed out casually.

“Okay,” her dad replied. “What’s the address?” Becca pulled the address out of her purse and her dad programmed it into his GPS pad. “Ah, the posh side of town.”

Becca shrugged, “I guess.”

Chloe had met Mr. Thompson any number of times. A short, buff but nice guy, he had a low forehead, dark eyes, black eyebrows that nearly met in the front and thick, dark hair cut almost into a burr. She had to admit to herself, although she didn’t want to, how much Becca resembled her dad.

Following the dulcet tones of the GPS voice, they arrived in the north side of town not long after. The SUV glided to a stop in front of a large, two-story house with immaculate lawn and flowerbeds; lights blazing from every window.

“What do her parents do again?” Mr. Thompson asked craning his neck toward the home.

“Oh, ah, I think her mom sells real-estate and her dad works at a bank downtown,” Becca chirped.

A white coupe with a black rag top was parked in the drive. The license plate read ‘Klassy.’ A  Cadillac SUV was parked next to it.

“Hmm,” was his reply “must be doing darn well.” He leaned back over the seat, “Give me a call when you’re done Becca, and don’t be concerned about the time, ‘kay?”

“Look there’s her mom now,” Chloe added. A blonde woman with a dazzling smile, much like her daughter’s, was standing in the front doorway waving.

“See, Dad, told you her parents would be home.”

“Okay, then.” Her father seemed placated. “You two git.”

The two girls emerged from the vehicle and walked up the broad driveway to the door.

Jennifer’s mom was a trim 40+ something with beautiful hair, teeth and ensemble. “You’re some of Jennifer’s friends. Come in, come in!” She welcomed and waved again at Mr. Thompson. He waved back and the SUV glided off. The two went into the brightly lit room and saw a number of adults standing around having drinks. Chloe was thrown for a minute.

“Alright, girls. We are having our little soiree up here, but the kid’s party is downstairs in the basement.” She walked toward some stairs and pointed down with a big smile.

Chloe and Becca both smiled uncertainly and moved down the stairs toward the very loud music. When they got there, they were greeted with banging music, a flashing music ball hanging from the ceiling and a ton of teens. Some, Chloe knew and some she had never met before. They walked around a bit and headed for the food table.

Chloe picked up a small paper plate and was putting little sandwiches on it when she heard “Chloe, Becca! You made it!”

Next thing she knew, Jennifer was spinning her around and gave her a big hug. Chloe held the plate up hoping to not spill anything, her other hand clutching her small bag.

“So, good of you to come!” Jennifer was effusive and her eyes wide and bright. “I have to get you something to drink. Would you like punch?” She had to yell over the music.

“Sure, sure,” Chloe replied, “punch, great.”

“Okay, then. Wait here.”

Becca followed Jenn’s movements a moment and then looked at Chloe.

“Is she …?”

“High?” Chloe replied, “Totally.”

“Geese, I wondered what those guys were doing leaving the prom and going out the back door,” Becca stated.

“Well, so now we know, huh. We can just stay a little while, Becca. I didn’t think it was going to be like this, so loud and so …”

“Yeah, so everything,” her friend replied.

Jennifer returned bearing two red cold cups brimming with liquid. She handed them over. “Drink up! I got to go and find that Greg again. He keeps disappearing.” She flashed another fabulous smile and wove her way through the throng of dancing bodies.

Becca took a sip of her drink and almost spit it out. “What the hell?”

Chloe tasted hers. “Ah, this tropical punch has a real punch. Wow! What did they put in this stuff?”

“Do you think her parents know?” Becca asked and sipped some more punch.

“How could they not, they’re right upstairs?” Chloe answered looking around for something else to drink. There didn’t appear to be cokes out that she could see.

“Let’s just eat something, make the rounds and call your dad.”

“Okay,” Becca replied. “I hate to have him drive all the way back when he just dropped us off.”

“He told you not to worry about it.”

Becca sighed and popped a small sandwich in her mouth.

They made the rounds, both sipping the punch and noshing. It was after the second turn around that Chloe realized with a pang of discomfort that she didn’t know most of these people. They were teens but some seemed a lot older and almost all of them were either very high, very drunk or both. They passed Kiki in one corner, busy snogging another individual. Chloe couldn’t tell if it was a male or female.

Greg was nowhere to be seen. Chloe was about to tell Becca to call her dad when there was some shouting and a bunch of people started to run up the stairs. “He’s going to jump!” she heard.

Curiosity got the better of her and she followed the crowd up. A bunch of people were clustered at a side window, looking up. There was an outside patio above their heads, on the second floor. Jenn’s home was close to that of their next-door neighbor. Chloe saw to her horror, the neighbor had a pool and apparently, one of the young men from the party was on the patio and was going to dive into the neighbor’s pool. There was a momentary hush, then, a figure flew past. There was a loud Splash! Everyone cheered. Luckily, the kid landed in the pool. Almost immediately, the back door light at the neighbor’s house came on and Chloe could hear a man come out and scream at the kid in the pool. The wife came out in her slippers, a hand-held phone to her ear, talking.

Chloe and Becca pulled away from the window. They were both laughing and saying, “Can you believe it?” Becca was trying to call her dad but between the noise and the being jostled by others, she was having a difficult time.

Suddenly, there were loud sirens coming right down the street toward them.

I wonder if they are going to arrest that guy? Chloe thought to herself.

There was some loud banging on the front door; Jenn’s mother answered it to what looked like a phalanx of cops.

Very much to Chloe’s surprise, she got arrested for being an underage minor consuming alcohol. Also, a number of other people at the party got arrested to include Becca, Greg, Jennifer and Jennifer’s parents.

Two hours later, they were sitting in the hallway at the police station. They had had to give breath-a-lizer samples to the cops.

It was a grim-faced Mr. and Mrs. Thompson who both came to pick-up a sobbing Becca. “I didn’t know, Dad,” she kept saying over and over, as they led her out the door.

Chloe called her parents, and they were on their way to pick her up. Greg eased down into the plastic chair next to hers.

“Some mess, huh?” he asked without looking at her.

“I’ll say,” Chloe, replied, she was still clutching the little pearl evening bag.  “By the way, where were you that whole time that guy was jumping into the pool?” She turned and looked at him. She had picked up a water at the front desk. She played with the cap, opening it an closing it nervously.

“I was on the balcony trying to talk him out of jumping. I kept telling him he could fall short and kill himself. But no, he’s on the school dive team. Said he knew he could make it.”

“Well, he did,” she answered.

“Yeah, he did and now he’ll probably be off the team after a stunt like this.” He leaned forward, resting his big arms on his knees.

“And you?” she asked.

“Well for starters, my dad already told me when I called him, to kiss the car goodbye.”

“Oh, wow,” Chloe stared at him.

“That’s for starters; then this arrest could cost me the water polo scholarship I was almost sure to get. My dad may have to have one of the attorneys at the firm bail me out of this thing.” He stared morosely at the floor.

“Oh, sorry.” Chloe also stared down at the floor. There was a pause. “Greg, did you know there was going to be alcohol at the party?” She glanced over at him.

“Oh, sure. Jenn’s parents have these kinds of parties all the time. Their philosophy is they want their kids drinking at home and not off somewhere else. Why do you think the cops showed up so fast? That neighbor of theirs has just about had it with them and had complained before.”

“Oh, well. That explains a lot of things, I guess.” Chloe leaned her arms against her legs too. They were both quiet for a time.

“And you know the crazy thing?” Greg turned and looked at Chloe.

“What?”

“I don’t even like Jenn that much. She is all about Jenn and her friends, all the time. I doubt she even knows who I am.”

“So, why go out with her?”

“Well, she is cute …” he said carefully, glancing at Chloe, “popular.”

“Hmm.” More silence.

“And her parents do have a killer house.”

“Ah.”

“But, clearly,” he stretched his long arms up and out, “that isn’t everything.” He waved around the station and let out a short laugh. He leaned one hand on the back of her chair.

She nodded still looking at the floor.

“Chloe, I know this is an odd time and maybe the wrong time, but …”

“Yes?” She lifted her head and turned to look at him.

“Would you like to go to a movie or something, coffee?”

Chloe smiled at him. “I really think, Greg Dudenhoeffer, that a movie with the likes of you is going to be a definite No in my household for a while. But coffee? That’s probably doable. She smiled again, and this time she really smiled. He smiled back.

“So, coffee?”

“Starbucks.”

“What day?”

“Wednesday is good.”

“After school?”

“Yes, after school.”

Greg let out a sigh. “Well, you’ll know me as the very tall guy on the bicycle.”

“I think I can hold onto that visual image.” She smirked. He smirked.

Greg was reaching over like he would give her a hug when her father showed up with a face like thunder.

“Greg, Greg Dudenhoeffer? You too? Jesus. What next? Come on Chloe, time to go home.”

Chloe got up to follow her dad. She turned at the last minute before they went out the door to give Greg a little wave. He waved back.

Yes, she thought to herself, this is really going to be my year!

Her mom was waiting in the car and Chloe let herself in the backseat. Her mom started firing questions at her, but her dad put up a stopping hand.

“Phyllis, enough time for that tomorrow. Let’s just get the kid home.”

The kid sat in the back seat wrapped in a warm, fuzzy glow.

The end.

Little Black Book – V – Conclusion

11 Sunday Feb 2024

Posted by webbywriter1 in marriage, mystery, romance

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Fiction, fishing, romance, short-story

 Three weeks later:

Detective Kim called to Mrs. Robert Towne and asked her to come to the station. She did and was ushered into his office.

“Annyeonghaseyo, Mrs. Towne. Come in.”

He pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit down. She held her purse close to her body and sat down, hunched over.

“Tea?” He asked her. She nodded yes. He waved at the girl outside the door and spoke some rapid Korean. She hurried away.

“Thank you so much. I understand how difficult this is.”

Shin nodded, head down.

“I had you come in to look over some things we found.” Shin’s head jerked up.

“Found?”

“Yes, some things that washed up on the shore and were brought to our attention.”

The female officer scurried back in with cups of hot tea and sugar. It was on a tiny tray, and she carefully put it on the desk in front of Shin.

Shin picked up some sugar, poured it in the tea and took a sip.

Detective Kim waited with one hand on a large, canvass bag at his feet.

“Okay?” he asked.

Shin nodded.

Kim pulled out the bag and stood up and started to lay things on the desk.

“A hat. One striped cotton shirt. A pair on long, cotton pants; size extra-large.”

Shin fingered the items and silent tears started to roll down her cheeks.

“One wallet.” He carefully laid the last item on the desk. It was still damp.

Shin picked it up with trembling fingers and opened it. She stared at her husband’s Korean driver’s license stuck behind the little rectangle of plastic and wept.

The lady officer was still hovering by the door. Kim waved her away and went and closed the door.

“I am so sorry.” He put a hand on Shin’s shaking shoulder and went to sit down.

“Where, where . . .? “

“The owner of the bait shop actually called us. A fisherman found these and brought them to him, thinking he might know about it.”

“Where . . .?“

“Yes, the shop where, I believe, your husband got his bait and tied up his boat.”

“We have to keep these things for a while as we are still searching for . .  . him. But then, you can have them back.”

She nodded, still sobbing.

“There is one last thing.” Kim paused and looked at her.

He got up, went to the corner and came back with a bamboo rod. “This.”

Shin looked at the rod.

“Was this his too?”

“I think so. I don’t know . . . They all look alike to me. He had so many.”

“And this.” Kim produced a coil of nylon rope and put in on the desk.

“Well, it’s odd about this rod.” The detective pulled on the line which was attached to the end. “There should be a hook and the hook has been torn off.”

Shin nodded.

“The rope also has an end which is sheered or pulled off.” He glanced at her.

Shin shrugged her shoulders.

“That plus the fact that his shoes were still in the boat when we found it, lead us to some conclusions.”

“Conclusions?”

“We think that perhaps he hooked a fish, maybe a big one, and the boat was dragged out to sea, where it was found. Then, maybe, he was pulled overboard. Which,” he glanced at her, “could be why we haven’t been able to find the body yet.”

She erupted into more tears.

Kim stood up. “That’s okay. That’s okay.” He walked over to Mrs. Towne while waving his hand at his girl. “Ella will take you to the front to sign some papers about the clothing and we will be in contact.”

“As soon as you know something,” She looked up at him.

“Just as soon as we know.” He reassured her.

The office girl led the still weeping Shin out of his office. Kim sat back down at his desk and pulled the rod and reel closer to him. He fingered the line and looked puzzled.

Finally, he got up and thrust the rod angrily in the corner and went out to have a cigarette.

                                                                        ###

Two months later, Shin and the girls were down at the marina. She had burned some of Bob’s things and they were in a little urn. They were going to sprinkle the ashes over the water where she knew he liked to fish.

She got down to the wharf, said hello to the bait and tackle guy who gave her a mournful little wave. They got into a little skiff, and she started the engine.

Being from Busan, Shin’s father had had a little boat and he taught her how to start the engine and to steer.

She headed out to sea about a half mile from shore. She felt that was far enough. Pulling the urn from her bag, she unscrewed the top. Each girl took a handful of ash and spread it on the water. She was the last and emptied the urn into her palms. Holding her hands up, the ash was carried away by the wind.

They then said a Buddhist prayer and were finished. They just sat rocking with the water and enjoying the breeze.

“Mom, look!”

Min, the oldest girl, was pointing to the water close to the boat.

Shin looked over the side as both girls rushed to look. She put her hand out.

“Don’t tip us over, okay?”

“Wow, Mom. What a big fish!” Julie cried.

Shin looked. Yes, it was an enormous blue fish. The type she didn’t know.

“Is it going to eat us?”

“Oh, no, I don’t think so,” Shin replied. “I think they eat plants.” Whatever, she thought to herself.

“Wow, it’s so big! It kind of looks like that fish Dad kept talking about,” Min said.

“Yes,” Shin said thoughtfully.  “Yes.”

Yet, there was something about that fish. It had enormous blue eyes that, she could swear, were staring at her. And, it looked, it looked. . . so sad. It reminded her of . . . no, that was foolish. What the hell was she thinking?

She shook herself. “Time to go girls.”

“Oh, Mom. We just got here.”

“I know, but we have things to do. Got to go.”

Rapidly Shin restarted the engine and swung the boat around. The big blue fish didn’t seem to move. It just hung there in the water.

Shin turned her head around and watched the fish until she couldn’t see it anymore.

I don’t think I’m going to come here again, she thought to herself. No, I don’t think I will.

                                                                        THE END

Little Black Book IV

11 Sunday Feb 2024

Posted by webbywriter1 in dating, Fiction, marriage, mystery, romance

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ancient, fishing, romance, writing

                                                                        ###

Back home that evening, he was looking forward to a nice home cooked meal and maybe some quiet time with his wife and kids. He got into the apartment. It was unusually quiet.

He went over to the breakfast bar and saw a note in Shin’s hand.

‘Robert, the school was having a parent/kid fun night tonight. Know how much you hate those things. We will be gone a couple of hours. Dinner is in the frig.’

He crumbled the note into a tie little ball and threw it hard at the trash can. He went to get himself a beer and turn on the soccer game.

Tuffy, their little white dog, cocked his head at Robert, but kept to his side of the room.

                                                                  ###

The rest of the Professor’s week didn’t get much better. He found himself having lunch more and more often by himself. His feelings were like a slow boiling pot.  Alice was avoiding his calls. He was about to throw the phone away. He couldn’t wait for Saturday so he could go fishing.

                                                                          ###

The next Saturday dawned bright and clear. Robert pulled his stuff together and barely spoke to his wife in his hurry to get out the door. She stared after the slammed front door and shook her head.

At the marina he buzzed through the bait shop and got a small order of chum. After getting some help with gear, he hustled out. Jumping in the boat, Bob flung a large, padded bag with a handle into the bottom of the craft. He started the engine and when it roared to life he sped out to the sea.

“Mama, why does Pappa want to catch that fish so badly?” One of the girls asked Shin. Shin put down some darning she was doing and looked at the girl.

“Well, there is an old, old story about a fish. A magical fish. Would you like me to tell you about it?”

“Yes, yes!” the older girl cried, and her little sister came running when she heard there would be a story. The hard-wood floors were heated from the bottom. So, comfortable and hugging soft toys, they both sat crossed legged in front of their mother, eager to hear.

“Well,” Shin began to tell them the story of Yeh-Shen, the Chinese Cinderella.                                                         

In a community of cave-dwellers called Wudoung, there was a beautiful girl named Yeh-Shen. She was not only beautiful but kind, and gifted in many skills. In contrast, her half-sister, Jun-li, was plain-looking, selfish and lazy. Both she and her mother envied the attention the father lavished upon Yeh-Shen. Yeh-Shen’s mother had died years before.

Unfortunately, Yeh-Shen’s father died from a great illness and Yeh-Shen was left alone to live with her step-mother and step-sister in poverty.  With her family so reduced and poor, Yeh-Shen was forced to become a lowly servant and work for her scheming stepmother and envious older sister.  Despite living a life burdened with chores and housework, and suffering endless abuse at her stepmother’s hands, she found solace by up befriending a beautiful, 10-foot-long fish in the lake near her home. The fish was a magical fish with golden eyes and scales and talked to her.  The fish was really the guardian spirit of an old man, sent by her mother, who never forgot her daughter, even beyond the grave.

One day, Jun-li, curious about where Yeh-Shen went every day, followed her to the lake. Hiding behind a tree, the step-sister was surprised to see Yeh-Shen talking to the fish. Angry that Yeh-Shen had found happiness, the girl ran quickly home and told her mother everything. The cruel woman tricked Yeh-Shen into giving her the tattered dress she wore. Disguised, the step-mother went to the lake, caught the fish and served it for dinner for herself and Jun-li.

Yeh-Shen was devastated until the spirit of an old man, her ancestor, in a white robe with white hair, appeared and told her to bury the bones of the fish in four pots and hide each pot at the corners under her bed. The spirit also told her that whatever she needed would be granted if she talked to the bones.

Once in a year, the New Year Festival was celebrated. This was the time for the young maidens to meet potential husbands. Not wishing to spoil her own daughter’s chances, the step-mother forced her stepdaughter to remain home and clean their cave-house. After they had left for the festival, Yeh-Shen was visited by the fish’s spirit again. She made a silent wish to the bones and suddenly found herself clothed in a magnificent gown of sea-green silk, a cloak of kingfisher bird feathers and a pair of golden slippers.

Yeh-Shen went to the festival by foot. Admired by everyone, she particularly enjoyed attention from young men who believed her to be a princess. She enjoyed herself until she realized that her step-sister may have recognized her. Quickly she left the festival and in her hurry, accidentally left behind a golden slipper. Arriving home, she hid her finery and the remaining slipper under her bed. The fish bones lay silent now, however, for they had warned Yeh-Shen not to lose even one of her slippers.

Her step family returned from the festival, talking and laughing. They mentioned a mysterious beauty who appeared at the festival. Although Yeh-Shen was sad, she told them nothing of her adventure.

The golden slipper was found by a local peasant. The man, entranced by the beauty and value of the shoe, hurried to the castle of a nearby king, where he felt certain of a reward. The palace guard paid the man a small token and took the shoe to his master.

The king of the To’Han islets, was ruler of a powerful kingdom covering thousands of small islands. Fascinated by the shoe’s small size, the king issued a royal decree to search to find the maiden whose foot fit into the shoe and proclaimed he would marry that girl. The search extended until it reached the community of the cave-dwellers. Every maiden, including Jun-Li, tried the slipper. But, by some magic, it seemed to shrink its size whenever touching a maiden’s foot. Despondent that he could not find the woman he was searching for; the king made a great pavilion and placed the shoe there on display.

Yeh-Shen stole in the pavilion, late at night to try to retrieve her slipper, but was mistaken as a thief. She was then was brought before the king. There she told him everything about her life, how she lost her friend, the gold-eyed fish, and now her slipper. The king, struck by her gentle nature and beauty despite her circumstances, believed her and allowed her to go home with the slipper. The next day, the prince came back to the meager dwelling and claimed the girl and her golden slipper to be his wife. He took her back to the palace and married her. They were happy ever after.

                                                 ###

“So, girls. What did you think of the story?” Shin finally stopped talking and addressed her two daughter who sat in rapture listening.

“Oh, Mom! We loved it!” They both chorused together, eyes shining.

                                                                                  

In the bay area, south of Busan, Robert was about a mile offshore; he stopped the engine and regrouped. He lifted the black, padded bag with a silver logo on the side. Carefully, he unzipped it and pulled the device out. He balanced it with one hand and smiled. Damn! Amazing what you could get on the Internet these days.

In his hand, it shone in the sunlight. Stainless steel, titanium alloy, five feet long, light in the hand. Razor sharp, it was five feet of instant death. A custom made, harpoon, designed mostly for shark dives, the beauty of the thing sent a shiver down his spine.

Robert had tested and retested the nylon rope coil which was attached to a ring at the end of the harpoon. He even had the guy in the bait shop help him test it. He pulled one way, and the little fat guy pulled the other, and the knot held. Bob always prided himself on his sailor’s knots. Another thing he had learned from his overbearing, Navy father.

“A man is as good as his knot.” The old duffer used to say.

“Ha,” Robert laughed out loud. “I got you now, you little bastard. No one calls me stupid and gets away with it.”

He looped the nylon rope around the ring at the prow of the skiff. He pulled on the double knots again and again. They held.

He laid the harpoon in the hull of the boat and pulled out the rod and reel; baited the hook and threw it in. Just a matter of time, he told himself. Just a matter of time.

It wasn’t too long before there was a tug at the line. He carefully started to reel in the line. He just wanted to get the grouper to the top of the water. He wasn’t interested in hooking it anymore. There was a slight tug, some resistance, but he thought, maybe. . .

There was a splash on the surface.

“Hey, asshole. No, you, over here.”

The man whipped his head around and the big grouper was on the exact opposite side of the boat from his line. What?

“You’re never going to catch me, asshole. You don’t have it in ya.”

We’ll see about that, Robert smiled grimly and almost casually reached into the bottom of the boat. He got a grip on the harpoon.

Quickly, he rose up and pulled back his arm and with all his might, threw the harpoon. There was a thud sound.

An “Ah!” cry came from the water and a pool of blood started to form on the top of the water.

“Ha!” Robert called out with glee. Suddenly, the rope coil started to unwind, going down deep into the water. He tried to grab it but it was going too fast and it burned the palms of his hands. “Ow,” he yelled.

The line got tight against the prow of the boat and the boat started to move in the direction of the line.

“Ah, shit!”

The boat was starting to move more rapidly now. He tried to untie the line, but it was too tight and there was no give. The boat was being pulled and was completely out of his control.

He ran over to the back of the boat to the engine and started it. It came to life and then, for no apparent reason, sputtered and died.

“Jesus!” Robert screamed. But the boat was moving away from shore and there was no one to hear him.

The fat guy in the bait shop waited and waited for Robert to return and tie up his boat. The old guy even went out to the pier and peered around for the little craft but could see nothing.

“Ah, well.” He shrugged his shoulders. “He’s a big boy, I guess he knows what he is doing.” He finally turned off the lights to the shop, locked up and went home.

When Robert did not return home that evening, Shin started to get concerned. She called and called to his cell phone but there was no answer. She started to call around to his various teaching buddies and no one had seen him.

By the next afternoon, she was frantic and called the police. They told her she had to come down and made a written report. Reluctantly, she called her mother to come watch the girls and went to the station.

A hunt was undertaken, and the skiff was found, floating, empty, about two miles offshore. There was no Robert Towne, and no one had seen him.

Shin was at the station, or the police were at her apartment every day for two weeks and there was nothing. She started to run out of tears. They were beginning to talk to her about his being ‘legally dead’. She didn’t want to think about that yet. Not yet.

                                                                        ####

Continued Part V

Unrequited Part II

07 Wednesday Feb 2024

Posted by webbywriter1 in Uncategorized

≈ Comments Off on Unrequited Part II

Tags

books, dancing, drinking, jane-austen, movies, romance, short-story

Courtney Webb

(Jane, 29 years, working as a waitress and bartender, gets told by her doctor that she was a chronic gastric problem, probably aggravated by drinking. It is important she changes her lifestyle, so she does. She becomes the receptionist and then dance partner at an exclusive dance studio.)

That had been six months ago. Jane had made good on her promise to the doctor and had stuck to the diet plan and taken all the pills. The major change was the job. She realized there was no way she was going to be able to stay away from the booze and still work at Bistro 30. Too many temptations and too many crazy men always trying to buy her drinks, among other things.

It was okay, she had been doing the bar thing for years. Despite earning excellent money with tips, she lived in a junky apartment with a weird roommate and drove an old car. She had basically nothing to show for all the money she had earned. It was time for a change. She was ready.

She had applied for the job as a receptionist at the dance studio. She didn’t have strong office skills, but the wife of the owner assured her that ‘personality’ was what they wanted on the job.

“You will meet and greet the customers when they come in the door. Yes?” Lady G said. “It is important that they feel welcome and that we want them to be here. They are not just our customers, they are our guests. Very welcome guests, yes?”

Lady G was foreign and tended to repeat herself a lot. It was okay. Jane liked her. Lady G was older than Jane by about ten years. Funny, they even looked a little alike. Small and slim. Blue eyes, to Jane’s green and dark hair to Jane’s red. Yes, Jane liked her and liked the studio. It was in a good section of town and everything about it smelled fresh and new. Plus, it emanated a certain quality.

What was it? She thought to herself. Oh, yes. Money. Jane liked that. She like it a lot.

She accepted the job and went to work. Mr. G was in and out of the studio and she just caught glimpses of him. Very tall, slim, and older, but quite good looking when you got him in focus.

Larry Gee started staying later in the evenings to help her out with the desk. Jane found him to be sweet and kind.

 Not anything like the guys in the bar. They were loud, boorish, arrogant, and dominating. All those men were like cookie cutter dolls, Jane thought to herself. They only want to own me, like a thing, like a doll. Not a person. Not like Mr. G. There’s a guy who knows how to treat a lady like a lady.

So, Mr. G became Larry. He and Jane became working buddies. Larry ran the studio with his wife and gave private lessons to individuals and couples. After she had been at the studio a couple of months, Jane was able to save up some money for private lessons.

There were other instructors at the studio of course. The older guy with dyed hair, Fred. Fred was married and had been teaching dance lessons forever. Then, the Asian guy who was very slick and only did evenings. There was the older woman, Maude, who was very nice and kind to Jane. There were couple of twenty-somethings there too. A college girl and then Studly guy. Studly naturally would have been quite a catch.

But man, were the women all over him. He’s clearly not gay, and they can’t get enough of that! Too much competition for sure. Jane ruminated. Ah, none of them compared to Mr. G. He was the man, Jane sighed dreamily.

It was not long before Jane and Mr. G were doing privates in the evenings before he went home. Jane was in heaven. She could not remember any man ever making her feel quite this way. Ever. Except for that time at Bistro 30 with the owner …

                                                #

Stanley was a welder. He had been a welder most of his life. He started back when he was eighteen learning the trade at his uncle’s shop. Stanley was a big kid, even then, and took to the trade and learned it rapidly. Stan wasn’t much for school and books. He liked working with his hands.

That and the fact he had crooked teeth, warts and three fingers on one hand, he wasn’t a big hit with the ladies. He frequently kept his ‘bad’ hand in his pocket to avoid stares and jibes from the other guys. The deformity was genetic, so the doctors told his parents, and there was absolutely nothing they could do to fix it. Learning to live with it and being different from other people had been Stanley’s cross to bear.

He liked the shop. He got to know all the guys and did much of the work alone by himself, so he wasn’t in the public eye much. That was fine with him. The ‘bad’ hand was no problem in his work, and he could handle materials just like the next man. Eventually, he started to make good money doing welding. He started to buy the things his parents couldn’t afford when he was growing up. New clothes, a nice car. Eventually, he was even able to afford a little house.

With money in the bank, a new set of wheels and a house to call his own, Stanley became more of a catch. Eventually he attracted a woman at church who could look past the hand and the teeth. A year later they got married. Stanley remained happily married for over twenty years.

It came as a blow when Genene, his wife, developed ovarian cancer. Within two years she was gone and once again, Stanley was on his own. At fifty, the teeth were still crooked, the bad hand was still the same, but he had now developed a middle-age paunch from all of Genene’s good cooking. That, plus he had some sore joints from constantly lifting and pulling heavy objects at work.

Stan tried a number of activities that involved women. Nothing much worked. He was a complete wash-out at bars. Despite how much money he threw around, he couldn’t compete with the younger, good-looking guys. He still went to church, but the women there seemed to get older and dowdier by the year. He couldn’t bowl anymore because of his bad shoulder. So, he was delighted when he discovered the new dance studio. The staff were friendly and eager to help. They were happy to take his money for dance lessons and in return, treat him with respect. The staffers didn’t avoid him like some freak. He even made some friends and was starting to get comfortable. That is until they hired the new girl, Jane.

Stanley goggled at Jane. She was so beautiful. Small and petite. Big green eyes in a pixie face. Small but curvaceous body. It was love at first sight. And, on top of that, she was so friendly! She would call him by name when he came in the door and laugh and giggle when he spoke to her.

Was she flirting with him? His mind reeled at the thought. She would even step in when some of the instructors were busy and act as his dancing partner. She was small and light on her feet. Nothing like Genene who, although Stan loved his wife, he had to admit was as clumsy as all get out. His wife could bang into a barn door going through if she weren’t careful.

No, Stan had to admit, even Genene had never made him feel like this before. Was he in love? He didn’t know what to call it. But, when they were dancing, everyone else and everything else just faded away. It was just him and Jane floating along, and he wanted it to last forever.

                                                            #

Jane was running to work these days in eager anticipation. The days could be drag some as couple after dull, middle-aged couple came in for privates with their favorite instructor. Lessons for an upcoming weddings, anniversaries, reunions. Whatever, you name it. Jane had to laugh and giggle to herself.

“As if anything was going to put some zing! in their sex life,” she whispered in a low voice indicating the plump couple on the dance floor. They were going slowly over the steps with Madge, the older instructor.

Larry, sitting next to her at the front desk, snickered.

“More like two dancing hippos,” she whispered back at him. “Maybe we should get them matching tutus.”

This time Larry laughed so hard he had to put his head down. Red in the face, he recovered himself.

He pointed a finger at her, still smiling. “Don’t you ever…”

“I won’t! Trust me! What can I do that South Beach Diet couldn’t?” Innocently, she looked over the raised countertop at the couple.

Larry took a deep breath and got up. “See you at 7 PM?”

“Yep, I’ll be there. I think I’m getting this waltz thing.”

He patted her on the shoulder and went to do some glad-handing with another couple who just came in.

Stanley came in the front door and paused at the desk. He leaned a hand on the counter.

“Stanley, you’re here!” Jane chirped. “Afraid Maude won’t be done with that couple for another half hour.”

“Thanks, okay. I’m good,” he replied. “I’ll just wait.”

Jane nodded and smiled at him. She noticed the hand for the first time.

Does he only have three fingers? Uck! She thought but continued to smile at the man while he went to plant himself on a sofa. Euw, she thought, creepy! Glad I don’t have to dance with him much. The very thought of it sent a wave of revulsion through her body. She had to shake it off and refocus on what she was doing.

Later, she and Larry danced and laughed. Once again Jane felt restored, like she was in heaven and her life was perfect.

When they were finished, Jane sat taking off her dance shoes and putting on regular street shoes.

“Oh, Jane, you two dance so divinely.” It was one of the older women, a regular at the studio. “You look just like Lady G did when they danced years ago.” The woman smiled broadly at Jane. “Before she had all those kids of course.” The woman simpered.

Jane smoothed down her wavy hair and stuck her chin up. I bet we do look perfect together, she thought. She got up with her shoes and bag.

“Thank you so much,” she replied. “I’ve been working really hard.” Jane didn’t have any children. Generally, she didn’t mention the three abortions she had awhile back.

She stuck the bag behind the counter and hunted around for her purse and keys. Time to go. Maude and the young guys would lock the place up. Larry had already left. Jane waved a big goodbye to everyone and stepped out into the cool night air.

“We look perfect together, ma’am, because we are perfect together,” Jane breathed out into the night air. “In fact, we belong together, and I am just starting to realize that.” In the pink cotton candy cloud that Jane called her brain, she floated out to her used car and started it up for home.

                                                            #

The next day, Jane was back at her duty station, not only on time but a little early. She was very surprised to see Lady G at the studio. Jane glanced at the clock. Lady was usually never in this early. Didn’t she have work to do to the elementary school or something?

Jane plastered a smile on her face.

“Morning, Lady G. Good to see you!”

“Oh, Jane.” Lady looked up from her appointment book. “Yes, yes.” She tapped a pencil against her teeth. “Right. Weren’t you telling me, Jane, that you wanted to learn to be a dance instructor?”

Jane gaped a moment. Recovering, “Well, yes … In time, but …”

“Well, you won’t believe this. We are getting so busy; Maudie needs some help in the evenings. You could assist her. Learn the ropes kind of thing. What do you say to that?”

Jane was momentarily flattered. Things were happening so quickly!

“Well, yes, Lady, if you think so. If you think I’m ready.”

“Ready,” Lady laughed and smiled a very wide smile. “You are a natural.” Her eyes glinted. She smiled even more broadly. “So, that’s a yes?” her eyebrows went up.

“Ah, yes.” Jane was stumbling a little for words. “I’d be happy. The desk …”

“Pish-posh, the desk. Arron can always handle the desk. We need people on the floor.”

“Okay, it’s a yes then.” Jane was definite this time.

“Good, good.” Lady G tapped her teeth again and looked at her book. “I think…yes, tonight. I think you’ll start with Stanley. He’s pretty new and can really use some help.”

Jane’s stomach clutched. “Stanley?”

“Yes, Stanley, you know who he is, right?”

“Yeah, sure, I ….”

“Good, good. I’ll tell Maude.” She turned to go and turned back. “Oh, and another little thing. Since you will be helping Maude, Larry won’t be able to slot much time for those private lessons. You understand. Need him at home more and all that stuff.” Lady G smiled again and winked at Jane. Then she turned and went to help some dancers.

Jane gripped her hands together and sat down slowly on her swivel chair.

She knows, kept running through her brain. She knows!!!!

Jane stared into space for a good longwhile.

                                                #

The following weeks turned into a blur for Jane. She was running into work, doing housekeeping clean-up as usual, balancing the sheets at the front desk, and greeting the studio guests. She was no more done with that, than Maude would show up for lessons. Jane became the dance partner for the men while Maude watched and gave pointers.

Jane started out liking the dancing, now she was starting to feel like something out of The Red Shoes. She wasdancing her feet off and going home exhausted. And then, Stanley. Jesus! The man seemed to show up either every day or every other day. It seemed she was constantly stuck with him. He was always smiling that sickly-sweet smile at her. Then, he started to bring her little gifts. He wouldn’t just leave a card or note. He’d wait until she was away from the desk and slip it in when no one else could see. If she got one more box of chocolates she would scream. She began opening them up and letting ‘everyone share’. Lately, she was walking them into the staff room and dumping them in the trash.

God, she couldn’t stand that guy! And heaven forbid she said anything to anyone. He was a great paying customer and they loved that. To top it off, Larry was there less and less. They had not had a private lesson in over a month, and he kept scuttling out of the studio promptly at 6 pm.

“Got to get home to those kids, you know,” he’d say. Then, giving her a warm smile or a wink, boom, he was out the door and into the night. Just when it couldn’t get worse, Lady G seemed to be hovering around more than ever.

Reminds me of a pesky nat. Wish I could just swat her! Jane dunked her teabag into a cup of hot water with furious little jabs. Whether she wanted to admit it to herself, she was starting to hate her life and didn’t know what to do. She felt trapped.

It was that spring that the studio held its Spring Showcase of Talent. Many of the regulars from the studio were going to be in the show and all the instructors. Of course, Larry and Lady G, the professional dancers, would be performing. Jane considered throwing her hat in but honestly, was too tired to practice for some dumb show.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day, Jane found herself in the organic wine aisle looking at the bottles.

Hum, made naturally with only organic grapes in the heartland of California’s own wine country. “Well,” she told the air, “How bad can it be? It’s all organic.” She bought a bottle and took it home. The next day she had a headache and was surprised to find when she was in her kitchen looking for Tylenol, that a completely empty bottle was in the trash.

“Did I do that?” she said softly. She located the bottle of pills in the cupboard and forced open the bottle. She grabbed two pills and downed them with water. She was walking out of the kitchen when she looked at the wine bottle again. She stopped and shoved it further down in the trash.

Dancers were running in and out of the studio as the Showcase approached. Jane was delirious with constant lessons. Maude was shouting and yelling as more and more dancers practiced their routines for the show.

Jane was stopping at the grocery store on a nightly basis now to get her organic wine. She kept promising herself she would make the bottle last two nights, but it never did. She began to buy some small pints of vodka to get through the evening. Her unhappiness at work kept increasing.

It seemed like she rarely saw Larry these days, but Stanley kept appearing before her like some evil genie. She began to have bad dreams with Stanley in them. It always seemed like she was being forced into something, like some weird marriage ceremony with him. She woke up from these dreams sweating.

                                                #

It was a Friday night, and the Showcase was happening at 7 PM. All the staffers were frantic getting the studio cleaned up and ready for the performances and guests. Lady G was supervising the costumes on the costume racks which were pushed into both staff rooms. Jane got out the vacuum and vacuumed the floor three times. People kept dropped bits of food on the carpet. She was nearly exhausted but keyed up at the same time.

They all had to park their cars further away than usual to give the guests more places to park. This was really annoying for Jane. It meant she had to go farther to get to the trunk of her car. She kept a bottle of hot vodka there and would go out and take sips on break. She choose vodka because everyone said you couldn’t smell it.

By the time she had made three trips to her car, the show was about to start, and she was light-headed. She parked herself at the desk and pulled her swivel chair around to watch. One tedious performance followed another for an hour and a half. Jane felt like throwing up. She couldn’t tell if it was the vodka or watching the dancers.

The show was winding down to the last few numbers. Larry and Lady G had something planned. They danced the tango to a hot salsa beat then stopped and took a bow. An older woman came on the floor leading three young tow-headed children.

Larry grabbed the microphone. “Thanks so much for coming tonight, folks. Lady G and I both want to thank you so much and introduce our three kids!” There was a huge round of applause and then the kids with mom and dad did a short rendition of Chattanooga Choo Choo with bells and whistles, Larry rotating his arms like the wheels of a locomotive. The crowd went wild with shouts and applause.

Jane was struck dumb. She knew Larry had some kids, but three? And all blond and adorably cute? And they all sang together? She couldn’t stand it. Jane groped in the dark for her evening bag and keys. Crying hysterically, she stumbled out of the studio.

Why, why? Why did that bitch get the guy and the house, and the business and the kids and all the applause? She should have that. She worked hard; she deserved center stage. She was younger and better looking. It just wasn’t fair. Jane stumbled toward her car. All she could think about was getting her hands on that bottle of vodka. She’d probably stop at the store on the way home and get a much, much bigger bottle this time.

She was still clutching something in her hand. It was the letter opener from the desk. She had forgotten she was even carrying it. Oh shit. She wasn’t going back for this dumb thing now. Screw it.

“Jane, Jane. What’s wrong?”

Out of the darkness, Jane heard the dreaded voice of Stanley. She turned. The asshole had followed her out to her car.

“You look upset. What’s wrong? Let me help you.” His face was wrinkled up with concern and sympathy.

Sympathy, Jesus, of all the things in the world I don’t need right now, sympathy was number one.

Jane turned back and kept walking. She felt his hand on her shoulder, she turned around. The three fingered hand. “Get off me you horrible old freak!” she screamed. She staggered backward.

He lunged forward to catch her. That’s when she lashed out with the letter opener. It sank into Stanley’s juggler vein. Blood started to pump out of the vein and Stanley sank to the asphalt with one hand on the letter opener and a surprised look on his face.

Jane stood and stared in horror as Stanley was quickly covered in his own blood. She wanted to scream but no sound came out. In moments, it was over, and he was completely still, laying on the asphalt. She backed away from the body. First slowly, then quickly, then she was running. Running and stumbling as fast as she could, away.

Away, got to get away, was all she could think of. She jabbed the car key into the lock, wrenched the door open and jammed the key into the lock. She didn’t bother with the bottle in the trunk or even putting on her seat belt. She screamed out of the parking lot without another look back.

The next day, the cops were all over the parking lot after an early morning shopper found Stanley’s dead body. There was crime scene tape around the place and cops were busy talking to everyone they could find.

Unfortunately for the police, this little section of parking lot where the employees parked, was the darkest part of the lot. The camera range didn’t extend that far. There had been a lot of people at the Showcase but most of the businesses were closed at that time. At the time Stanley died, Larry and Lady G were busy accepted rounds of applause from the audience. No one could be exactly certain about who was or was not there.

The detective shook their heads and kept making notes in their little books. They promised to come back when most of the staff instructors were there to teach lessons.

It was probably mid-morning before Maude realized that Jane was not at work. Larry checked the answer machine; the studio still had an old fashioned one for backup. There was a wavery message from Jane saying she had a bad headache and would make it in the next day.

Larry told the detective who made a note of her address and phone.

“Ah, if she doesn’t come in soon, we’ll have to go to her place to talk to her. You understand.”

Larry nodded. He felt vaguely guilty and wasn’t exactly sure why.

When the cops finally left with promises to come back, he looked at Maude.

“Maude, you know Jane pretty well. She wouldn’t do something like this, would she?”

Maude shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, Larry. She hasn’t been herself lately. But, to do something like this? This bad? Wow, I don’t know. This new generation, you know?”

Larry sort of knew but was going to have to let it go for a bit. His head was spinning.

                                                #

It was an anxious Larry Gee who reported in at the police station two days later. With his black clothing and pale skin, he looked a little out of place around the buff cops in their navy-blue uniforms and dark tans. Detective Martinez had asked that Mrs. Gee come too. Larry begged off and asked to be interviewed alone.

They were sitting in a private interview room now.

“She’s in Mexico,” Detective Martinez volunteered. “Miss Stanwell.”

“Oh,” Larry added.

“We got extradition laws with the State of Mexico. Lots of people don’t know that.”

“Oh,” Larry replied again. “So …”

“So, Mr. Gee, we wanted to know what you could tell us about this.” Martinez slid a slip of paper forward. It was in a clear plastic sleeve.

Larry read the note. His already pale skin blanched further and then started to turn pink.

“I, I don’t know,” he replied.

The detective pulled the note back, turned it around and read it. “I’ve gone forever. Tell Larry I’ll love him always. Jane.” There was a pregnant pause.

“Why would the young lady write such a note, Mr. Gee?”

Larry shook his head, numb.

“Was she, in fact, in love with you, Sir?”

Larry opened his mouth, and nothing came out.

The detective had a little black notebook and a short ink pen. “Why don’t you tell me about your relationship with the young lady. And, while we’re at it, why would she do such a thing as to stab a client like Mr. Stanley.”

“She, she was an employee. A good employee. She had only been with us a few months. I don’t …”

“Were you having an affair with the young lady, Sir?”

Larry blanched again. “No, no … no affair.”

“Okay, no affair.” Martinez made notes in his book and tapped his pen on the paper as he considered the man sitting across from him.

“No affair,” Martinez said slowly. He drew some little circles on the paper. “Then what?”

“What?” Larry looked confused.

“Yeah, what was it that was going on between you two?” Some more sharp taps of the pen.

“Jesus,” Larry sunk his head in his hands.

Now we’re getting somewhere, Detective Martinez thought to himself. He looked up at the two-way mirror and nodded at his partner who was standing on the other side, listening.

“It was nothing.” Larry finally pulled himself up and spoke.

“Nothing,” Martinez stopped tapping and looked at the man.

“Yes, it was nothing. A little flirting is all. Then, Jane, Miss Stanwell, asked for some private dance lessons. We arranged a discount price since she was an employee, and I gave her some lessons.”

“How private were the lessons?” Martinez had to force himself not to smile.

“They were all at the studio. Period. Definitely no hanky-panky, Detective. Believe me.”

Martinez nodded. “Go on.”

“Then, at some point, Lady G,” Larry paused, “my wife,” he said pointedly, “felt there was too much interaction between myself and the young woman. She took steps to change the schedule to get Jane doing other things. The privates came to an end.”

“I see,” Martinez said. “So, Lady G, your wife, was the one put a stop to the thing.”

Larry Gee crossed his arms across his chest. “Yes, she did.” He was managing to look a little offended.

“So, if your wife had not done this, then …”

“Nothing, Detective. Nothing at all. I am married for the last ten years with three young children. There was nothing going on between me and Miss Stanwell and there wasn’t going to be either.” Larry nodded up and down with some force.

“Okay, Mr. Gee. I get the picture. A little light flirting with the girl. Wife gets wind and changes the girl’s duties around. Is that when she began to partner with Mr. Stanley?”

“I believe so,” Larry added. “Miss Stanwell was being coached by one of our oldest teachers, Maude Adams. It was Maude who assigned her partners.”

“That would explain, I guess,” Martinez added, “how it was she even knew the deceased.”

Larry nodded. “I believe so.”

“What possible motive would the young lady have in stabbing Mr. Stanley, Sir? That you can think of?”

“I have no idea, Detective Martinez. I truly have no idea.”

A shaken Larry Gee left the station. Detective Martinez met with his partner back at their desks.

“So, what’s you think?”

“I think he’s a pretty boy dork, who almost had an affair. The wife found out and put a stop to it. Don’t think he’s involved. Scared of his own shadow that one.”

Martinez nodded his agreement.

“You looked at her picture? Stanwell?”

His partner nodded. “Yeah, she’s a looker for sure. Won’t do well in prison.”

“She might get manslaughter. Un-premeditated thing.”

“My guess too.” O’Reilly picked up his coffee cup and stared at the contents. He got up to get a fresh cup.

“So, Reilly, what’s you thinking ‘bout what happened here?” Martinez asked casually.

“Me?” O’Reilly tapped his cup. “Ah, if I was to hazard a guess, I’d say probably a case of unrequited love.” He started to walk away.

“Unre…. what?” Martinez spluttered.

“Ah, look it up partner. You got a dictionary that computer of yours. Unrequited.”

“Hey, pal. I been to college too, you know.”

“I do know, Martinez. And let me say the department is eternally grateful to online learning courses. But a word a day, Marti, a word a day.”

“You’re a pompous ass.”

“True, but I really do need another cup of coffee. Be back.” He slouched out of the room.

A few minutes later, refreshed, O’Reilly came back. He scooted his chair up to his partner’s desk.

“Okay, we got one very hot chick.” He pointed to Jane’s picture.

His partner nodded.

“Then, we got one older, fairly ugly dude,” he pointed to a picture of Stanley. “For whatever twisted reasons, Lady Gee, in a fit of pique …”

“What …?” His partner started to say.

“Aggravation call it. Puts the two of them together in this dancing thing.”

Martinez nodded.

“The hot chick here,” O’Reilly points, “falls for the handsome married guy,” he pointed to the printout labeled, Larry Gee. “He reciprocates just enough to get her cranked up and then pulls out. To use a phrase.” He grins at his partner.

“Ugly dude here,” he taps the picture of Stanley, “falls head over heels with beauty,” tapping the pix of Jane and tries real hard to make it work. “Ugly follows beauty to her car and tries something. God knows what. She sticks him and flees.”

Martinez held his chin with one hand. “Makes sense.”

“Plus, I think she was on something when this happened.”

“They didn’t serve liquor at that Showcase thing of theirs.”

“Yeah, I know they didn’t. But if you examine the record of your girl Jane, you’ll see she has two priors for drunk driving and one domestic assault charge. Maybe they weren’t serving liquor at the party, but I still think she was on something. We won’t know what it was ‘til we get her back here State side.”

“So, all fer love, huh? What an idiot.” Martinez shook his head.

‘Yeah, well: “The face is the mirror of the mind, and eyes without speaking confess the secrets of the heart,” O’Reilly quoted.

“Who said that? Don’t tell me it was you,” Martinez frowned.

“St. Jerome,” his partner said. “We’ll know more when we see her.”

“Still think she’s an idiot.”

“Ah, Martinez, you’re just not a true romantic.”

“Not a romantic at all. Thank God.”

“Well, there’s that. Lunch?’

“Yeah, I need some food after all this creepy romance stuff. Yuk.”

“Sounds like a Tommy’s burger then.”

“You on, pal.”

They both grabbed jackets and left the office.

The End.

The End.
             

Mr. Right/Mr. Wrong – Getting Married

21 Sunday Aug 2022

Posted by webbywriter1 in dating, FRIENDSHIP, marriage, romance

≈ Comments Off on Mr. Right/Mr. Wrong – Getting Married

Tags

romance

MEN – WHAT ARE THEY AFRAID OF?

“What is he afraid of?” I asked her.

“Everything,” she answered.

So, what are men afraid of? I will pull in some psychological data to demonstrate to you, dear reader, that men are actually afraid of many things. Research into the field indicates that men are actually much more controlled by the emotions of fear than are women. They feel fear more often than women, feel it in greater intensity and more often.

Are men afraid of women? Frequently the answer to that question is yes. Fear of what? Rejection, failure of the relationship, commitment, being taken to the cleaners by a woman, being used and primarily, being hurt. Men do not want to be hurt, especially ‘again’ if they have been hurt before. Why then is dating so ‘easy’ for the 19-23 year old group. A lot of it has to do with active hormones and energy levels, and a fair amount has to do with the fact that most people in this age group have never been married, never been divorced and never had long term relationships of any kind, married or unmarried. Because a guy is not divorced, does not necessarily mean he has not been in a (or several) long term relationships. We have certainly gone from a culture where all ‘respectable’ people got married to one where the social norms and rules for relationships have relaxed quite a bit.

All this means, to the uninitiated, is that public records of relationships may not exist for your current love interest. The best you may be able to do on that score is to listen to what he tells you about his past relationships. Also, pay attention to people that you know who know him and may have known him in the past. What do they have to say about him? Friends of friends can be invaluable sources of information. Does this mean you are checking out your current love interest for his past?

Yes, it does. And you should be. Past behavior is the best indicator of future actions.

So, keeping in mind that men are more fearful, especially of being hurt ‘again’ we can understand their more cautious and skittish behavior around women. When faced with cautious, colt-like behavior, being women, we frequently reboot to behaviors (roles) that are familiar to us. Such behaviors as: the Big Sister, the Nurse, the Confident, the Helper, the Guide and worst of all, Mom. The roles are familiar to us and also to men. They do recognize these attitudes/behaviors in women and do react to them. Frequently in a bad way, such as running fast in the opposite direction. So, what are the biggest fears if men in general?

The 5 Biggest Fears Of Men

1. Failing https://www.allprodad.com/the-5-biggest-fears-of-men/retreived Internet 2022

“Failure doesn’t define you; it’s just something we all experience on the way toward achieving goals.”

Why are we so afraid of failing? Are we afraid of living with the shame that comes with it, disappointing others or perhaps ourselves? Are we afraid of what it might reveal about us, namely that we have limitations that we’ll never get beyond? Perhaps we’re afraid failure will come to define us. 

2. Being Incompetent

We want to know that we have what it takes. We want to be useful, to feel needed. If we don’t have what it takes to accomplish a task, again, what does that say about us? That leads right into the next point. One of the triggers for this is when we lose our jobs and struggle to provide for our families. Know this, we all have certain talents. Find your talents and use them; pour into them in order to help others.

3. Being Weak (or Being Perceived as Weak)

For a man, being perceived as weak is probably as bad as actually being weak. And there is nothing worse, for a man, than being weak. Dr. Brene Brown says that the shame that comes from being perceived as weak keeps men from being vulnerable.

4. Being Irrelevant

We all want our lives to mean something when all is said and done. If you are struggling with this one I would suggest two things. First, find out what you do best and then use it to help others. People are in need of love and care and if you provide that to even one person, you will never be irrelevant.

5. Looking Foolish

“The more you step out and risk, the more you are going to misfire. But you will also have more success.”

This is that thing that keeps us from speaking up in meetings or taking on a challenge. Ultimately, it minimizes our impact in the world.

When fear grips you, remember this quote from Teddy Roosevelt and get in the arena:

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”

…..

 So, recognizing that men in general are afraid of looking foolish, incompetent, weak it therefore follows that they won’t want to look ‘stupid’ in regards to affairs of the heart. So, as women, we need to ‘lighten things up’ and to stop heaping expectations and demands on the men in our lives.

Additionally, we need to drop the helper role. They are men after all and it is important to keep that uppermost in mind. If you want a perpetual child, get a puppy. If you want a man, you will need to learn to behave as a woman and not as an overgrown nanny – care taker. More on that in the next chapter.

Continued

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