The JackB

"When you're in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, 'Damn, that was fun'." Groucho Marx

Red Dress Club

She Was Wrong

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This is a post based upon a prompt from the Red Dress Club:

This week we asked you to write a post beginning with the words, “This was absolutely the last time” and ending with “She was wrong.” The word count was 600.

This was absolutely the last time that he would kiss his children goodnight in this house. In a matter of hours the only home they had ever known would be taken from them and sold at auction. In a matter of moments something he had worked so very hard for would be taken from him and given to strangers.

Strangers would move in and erase all evidence of the family that had once lived there. These strangers would walk from room to room but never hear the voice of the children who had once lived there. They wouldn’t hear them say I love you daddy or help me daddy, I am scared. They wouldn’t see daddy come running to fix the scrapes and bruises or to scare the monsters away.

Maybe the strangers would keep the chandelier in the dining room. Maybe they would use it but they wouldn’t hear the echoes of happy moments that the family once had there. They wouldn’t see the smiles or share in the family dinners.

Those strangers wouldn’t know how hard he fought to save the house. They wouldn’t know how he dug ditches and unloaded trucks just to make a few extra bucks. Nor would they know how the bank had promised to work with him. They wouldn’t know that the bank had told him that they weren’t in the habit of taking homes away from families and that they would be able to find a solution.

But the bank hadn’t found a solution or a compromise. They had lost his paperwork on more than one occasion or had told them that their requirements changed. Strangers wouldn’t hear the echoes of his voice begging some minimum wage employee to work with him. They wouldn’t hear him ask to sign a 40 or 50 year term. They wouldn’t hear the bank employees tell him that the past didn’t matter.

Strangers wouldn’t know how bitter it made him to fail or how some nights he would pace sit alone in the dark because he couldn’t sleep. They wouldn’t know about the file of job applications that he kept and how he hoped that maybe something would fall into place, but nothing ever did.

He was overqualified for menial and retail positions and kept out of middle to senior level positions because he would have earned too much. They wouldn’t know how sometimes he would stand and listen to the soft snores that came from the children as they slept.

The same children he had promised to protect, feed, clothe and educate. How many times did he stand alone in the dark and stare at their sleeping bodies. How many times did he thank god that they were unaware of just how dire the situation had become.

Morning would come and they would wake up and enjoy one last meal. He expected that there would be tears and questions. They would ask why they couldn’t stay. They would want to know why someone was taking their home away from them. They would want to know why and he had no explanation that he could offer.

There was nothing to be gained by saying that they were living through the worst economic conditions anyone had seen in more than fifty years. He would tell them how hard he had tried and pray that they didn’t remember the time that daddy failed them.

He tried not to be bitter but it was hard. He could still hear the words of the bank employee who promised that it would all work out. She was wrong.

Links to Past TRDC posts:

 

A Jealous Man

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This is fiction based upon the prompt from the Red Dress Club.  Before I get to the prompt  let me share a thought. I was going to take this post here and edit it so that it could be used for the prompt but I didn’t like the way it worked. So I wrote the one below in 27 minutes which is probably why it is so damn rough. Anyway, here is the prompt and the post. Let me know what you think of it.

aah…jealousy. We all have it. We all feel it.And now we’d like you to write about it. We’ll leave it open: you can write about something or someone you envy, or a time when your jealousy got you in trouble, or maybe how it makes you feel to be envious. Whatever you want.

And it can be fiction or non-fiction. Word limit is 600.

I burn and ache for someone who has hidden her heart from me. I dance in the fire that we created reaching for fingers that were once intertwined among mine. But the hand that once held mine holds it no longer and the love that we shared is set adrift upon memories of what once was and hopes for what might yet be.

Amidst the burning and crackling of the flames I think that I see her standing in the distance. Smoke obscures my vision and sweat pours down my brow making it harder to see if it is really her.

I see her standing there with another man and I close my eyes. This cannot be. The smile that was once reserved for me is being flashed at another. Bedroom eyes that welcomed me with promises of steamy delight are focused upon him.

My jaw is clenched and my eyes have narrowed. It takes but a moment to size him up and determine that it would require minimal effort to rip off his arms and beat him silly. It might be difficult to kiss a man whose lips have been torn off and fed to the dogs.

Deep breaths are taken & I struggle to master the demons that have been unleashed inside of me. But it is hard because I wish to let go of the chains and let them quench their thirst for blood.

Yet the rational part of me says that the best thing to do is quench the flames. Ignore her. She isn’t someone who has to be the center of attention but you know that you are different. She wants your attention and your focus. Be rational and use your head. Ignore her.

Ignore her and you win. You know that it is not a contest, but you two are apart for a reason. Give yourself the time to focus on yourself and fix what needs fixing. Let her do the same and if the dreams are based on reality you’ll find each other maybe.

But it is hard to see 6’2 of stupid. You think graphically and can’t help but visualize things you shouldn’t think about. Go dark and go deep. Let her wonder what happened to you and not the other way around.

His hand is on the small of her back and they are standing far too close to each other. There are two choices now. Walk away or go take him apart. Walking away is harder and far less satisfying at least in the short term.

Close your eyes and walk through Casablanca. It is your favorite movie. Picture Bogart as Rick. Dude starts out as the epitome of cool and than after she walks in he undergoes this transformation into someone who is angry and bitter.

And that ending, well in some ways it is heartbreaking but in others it is just the premier example of cool.

His other hand is on her hip and the image of the noble Rick evaporates in the mist and you hear Cee Lo Green singing and dangerous thoughts swirl through your head. The demons are howling and you take a step towards them.

All you need to do is cross the street and.

Links to Past TRDC posts:

A Fork In The Road

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It is 1989 and I am finishing my junior year of college. I am taking a full load of coursework and working around 25-30 hours each week. My free time is divided between the gym and the fraternity. I had intended to spend my junior year abroad but let an ex-girlfriend talk me out of going. I don’t know it then but it will be one of the five major regrets in my life. It is compounded by the fact that she dumped me and I am single.

Single, alone and angry meld together into something called confusion. Law school doesn’t sound interesting to me any more and neither does anything else. I want to drop out of school and find myself but my father tells me that I’ll lose my healthcare so I don’t. Frustration mounts and I add time in the campus pub to my regimen. I have an enormous thirst that I can’t seem to quench.

Pitcher after pitcher of beer finds its way down my gullet and I decide that getting drunk three times a week is a rite of passage for a college student. It doesn’t matter that it is the middle of the day nor do I care if I drink alone or with friends. Most of the time I have company so the drinking alone is infrequent. Often times we sit on a patio that overlooks one of the pools.

Our table is filled with endless pitchers of beer and slices of pizza. The skies are blue and just below the landscaped is dotted with girls in bikinis. It is hard not to look at this and think that I have discovered paradise.

One of my drinking buddies is in two of my classes. He is worried about failing so he tells me that he is going to cut back on his time at the pub. I tell him not to worry and he tells me that I am being stupid. I am young, dumb and male and determined to prove him wrong. I tell him that I am going to drink three pitchers of beer and then study for the midterm.

He tells me that he doesn’t want to be the reason I fail. I tell him that won’t be and he is not. He remains sober and receives a C+. Not me. I drink all three pitchers and then receive an A- for my efforts. He is furious and tells me that it is because I was sober when I took the test. I laugh and tell him to join me at the gym. He says ok and I tell him that I’ll see him tomorrow.

The next day I stop by his apartment to pick him up. He buzzes me in and I go upstairs. While he packs his gym bag I hit the restroom. While I’m washing my hands I hear a very loud crash and then screaming. My friend sounds like he is crying. I run out and see a wide open door. Some guy is sitting on top of him and beating the crap out of him. I have no idea what is going on but I run over to help.

I hit him from behind and he crumples. It is not heroic. He had no idea that I was there but my friend really is on his back…crying. I find out that he is crying because he has a gambling problem. I am suddenly scared and I take off. I don’t want this guy I cold cocked to know who I am.  Later on I’ll find out that “my friend” has many problems besides the gambling.

One day a fraternity alumnus approaches me at the gym and asks when I became such an asshole. He says that I used to be smart and likable. It resonates with me because most of the house dislikes him and wonders how he ever got in. It makes me think and wonder if maybe he is right.

I figure that the easiest change is to stop drinking.  The alcohol isn’t making me happier or assisting me with making decisions. It doesn’t take long for me to feel like a fog is lifting.

From start to finish that whole experience took all of three months or so but so much happened it feels like years. Hard to believe that so much time has passed.

A Mugger

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My latest submission for The Red Dress Club. Here are the details of the prompt:

Write a piece about a fight. What happened? Why? Who “won”? What were the repercussions?

Show us. Use emotion. Description. If it’s a fist fight, what did it feel like to hit someone – or be hit? What does it feel like to be screamed at – or get the silent treatment?

 


‘She put him out like the burnin’ end of a midnight cigarette
She broke his heart he spent his whole life tryin’ to forget
We watched him drink his pain away a little at a time
But he never could get drunk enough to get her off his mind”

Whiskey Lullaby– Braid Paisley and Alison Krauss

The police tell you that the best thing to do is give a mugger your wallet. Don’t argue and don’t fight. Money and valuables can be replaced, but your life can’t. Unfortunately I have never been real good about listening to advice…from anyone.

We were older when we met but by no means were we old. Rather we were both old enough to have drunk deeply from life’s wine bottle and had more than enough life experience to feel like we knew something about ourselves and what we wanted. Neither one of us expected to fall in love and certainly not with the kind of passion that we felt. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that it felt as if we had rediscovered that feeling you got with your first love.

The days were filled with magic and mystery. Sometimes I would stop what I was doing and just stare at her. The intensity of my gaze often made her look away. So I would walk over to her and gently lift her chin and tell her to look in my eyes. “Find your reflection in my eyes and you will see why I get lost.” She’d blush and tell me to shut up. And then I’d laugh and tell her that she just needed to accept that she was beautiful.

Sometimes she’d get teary eyed and kiss me.

But the thing is that when you have the kind of passion and intensity that we have it can come out in other ways…and it did.

Sometimes you go looking for trouble and sometimes it comes looking for you. I can’t say whether I was or wasn’t looking for it because I don’t remember. When I left the house I was so very angry. Twenty some years ago I probably would have gotten in the car and gone flying down the road at high speed towards the closest refuge from whatever it was that I was getting away from. But not this time.

That’s not to say that I wasn’t spitting blood but rather maturity had taught me to go walk and clear my head. The park seemed like a smart place to go. It wasn’t quite 10 o’clock and the place had lights. I had been there a million times and never had a problem.

There were two of them standing on the grass. Just two skinny guys in t-shirts and jeans. One of them called out to me but I shook my head and kept walking- at least I have planned to.

Instead I found myself lying on the ground trying to figure out who hit me and how I fell. I felt a hand reach into my pocket and I grabbed it. Something hard and heavy hit me in the back but I didn’t let go…I twisted and pulled it underneath me…felt a body come down on top of me.

The strange thing was that the whole time I could hear her screaming at me and it just made me angrier.

We are wrestling this unknown assailant and I. It is not a holy experience like Jacob and the Angel. It is just Jack, the guy who had his heartbroken and some poor schmuck who is going to be savaged by me. He doesn’t know that the combination of fear, anger and adrenalin have made me numb. He doesn’t know that the shock of her leaving me has made me feel like I have nothing to lose.

But he is lucky because there were more than just two of them. The others pulled me off but I can’t tell you much about afterwards other than the cop that came to see me wanted to know where I learned to fight.

Past posts for The Red Dress Club:

When Simply Awful Became Simply Wonderful

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Don’t ask me why I decided to wear a cowboy hat on the bus. I was a 13 year-old kid who had spent his entire life living in Los Angeles. My parents told me that I had been on a plane once, but I was six months old and the trip was to San Francisco. Planes were something that I saw flying overhead or when I passed by an airport. We were an ordinary middle class family who lived in the San Fernando Valley in a modest home. If you know the area you’ll understand that I kid around and say that living north of the boulevard meant we were in the ghetto.

I sat next to my friend Craig on the bus. Craig was dressed in his normal surfer attire, pair of Vans, Puka shell necklace and O.P. shorts. We shared his walkman and listened to The Clash sing “Should I Stay or Should I Go.” Who knew that song would foreshadow my feelings about the overnight camp we were on our way to. My parents had talked about sending me for years but it didn’t happen until that summer. It meant four glorious weeks without parents or my pesky sisters around to bother me. It never occurred to me that it would be hard at times or that I would miss my family. Never thought that the stupid hat on my head would mark me as a target.

They called me Okie, Redneck, Hick and a few other things. I didn’t know what to make of it. They were all supposed to be my friends, or so I had envisioned. It didn’t help matters that I was the last boy to reach our tent and as such got stuck with the bed in the middle. They loved to stick it in the rafters. In many ways I was an easy mark. If you messed with me I would mess right back with you. I didn’t always recognize the difference between friendly and mean teasing. Poke me and I would give you a reaction.

I remember complaining to Craig about it. Most of the time he was cool but I remember that he said that sometimes I acted like an asshole. I didn’t understand what I was doing to make him or anyone else think that.

It didn’t help that my hormones were raging. Those 13 year-old girls made my head spin. They often moved in packs. Sometimes groups of them would ask me questions and then laugh at whatever I said. I couldn’t figure out if I was funny or had something in my teeth. Not to mention that I couldn’t stop staring at them. I can’t tell you exactly when I noticed girls and decided that I was interested in learning more but I know that summer it was in full effect.

About ten days into the session something woke me up. I felt someone standing next to me and poking me. When I opened my eyes I saw it was Ricky. He slept across from me. He was naked and holding his little friend in his hand. I had no idea if that was what he poked me with but I snapped. I simply lost it.

Jumped out of bed screaming and chased him outside. He was completely naked and I was clad in shorts and wielding the broom we used to sweep the floors. A group of counselors were standing in the middle of the boys tents. When they saw me chasing Ricky they immediately got between us. Just before two counselors tackled me I took the broom and threw it like a javelin. It glanced off Ricky’s leg. From my position on the ground I heard laughter and started swinging. I landed two solid shots on a 17 year-old counselor and freed myself.

Ricky was still naked and laughing- or at least until he saw me break free.

In a few months it will be 29 years since that summer. The same summer that I made some of the best friends of my life. We have watched each other grow up. Been to weddings, and funerals together. There are more than a few kids that have been born, some of whom are already sick of the camp/college/Europe/Israel/New Years Eve stories.

Part of that time was simply awful, but it was worth it.
This was another prompt from The Red Dress Club.

This week’s RemembeRED prompt was to write about a time something seemingly terrible happened, but looking back, it brought something wonderful.

Links to Past TRDC posts:

Song Sung Blue…And Other Colors

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Ok here is the newest addition to my Red Dress Club Prompts. The details are just below. I really should have picked the first option but that seemed too easy so I went with the second and I am not real pleased with it. I think that it is kind of awkward and a bit long. But the purpose in doing this is to practice writing because that is the only way to improve.

This week you had two choices for prompts.

The first was to write a formal letter to you or your character’s greatest fear. The second was to select 10 songs that would be on your character’s iPod and would tell about that character.
The Song of My Heart has gone silent. She who inspired the words written just below this paragraph has chosen to deny her heart to me. That which was once open and freely offered is no longer available or so I have been told.

I had a dream. I dreamt of a place that I had never been to but always wanted to live in. You were there and your arms welcomed me to a place that until then had always lived inside me. You unlocked the passion and the fire that burns inside me.

You helped me to remember that love is meant to sting, that to be apart is to feel an ache that no drug can touch and to be together is to know the meaning of union.

You are my drug of choice, an addiction that I cannot give up. My air and my blood, the wind that fills my sails and were I to lose you I would be forced to revisit that dark place that I used to live in. I would be hollow inside, an empty shell and who knows what might choose to occupy that place.

I knew the day that we kissed that life was going to be different. Few people understand because so few have had the experience and even then few walk that path. When you walk through fire you risk being burned but you also open yourself up to untold rewards.

When just holding hands brings incredible pleasure, when whispers and caresses offer the height of joy and passion there is something special.

When I kissed you I felt your legs go weak and I held you tightly but I was not concerned because my arms were made for holding you tight and feeling your heart beat against mine gives me all the strength that I require.

I had a dream that became reality.

If you were to ask me to describe who we were and explain what happened I would probably shake my head. Because if you haven’t lived it than you cannot understand it. The language of the heart is not something that you can transcribe with words. Many have tried and most have failed. But perhaps there are songs that might offer an inkling of an explanation.

“Love is a burning thing
And it makes a fiery ring
Bound by wild desire
I fell into a ring of fire

I fell into a burning ring of fire
I went down, down, down and the flames went higher
And it burns, burns, burns, the ring of fire
The ring of fire

I fell into a burning ring of fire
I went down, down, down and the flames went higher
And it burns, burns, burns, the ring of fire
The ring of fire

The taste of love is sweet
When hearts like ours meet
I fell for you like a child
Oh, but the fire went wild”
Ring of Fire– Johnny and June Carter Cash

The passion that fueled our fire was the sort that would make poets weep because how can a few lines of verse describe a single kiss that transforms your life…forever. You can’t and again unless you have experienced it this will all seem like so much hyperbole.

With the calm of the mountains, I will love you
with insanity and balance, I will love you
with the fury of my years
the way you taught me to be
with a powerful raw scream, I will love you

In secrecy and in silence, I will love you
risking (bordering) in what’s forbidden, I will love you
in what’s false and in what’s true with my heart wide open
because you’re something that’s not perfect, I will love you

I will love you, I will love you in a way that’s not allowed
I will love you, I will love you in a way that’s never been known of

Because that’s what I have decided, I will love you
Te Amare– Miguel Bose w/ Laura Pausini

But if you have experienced such love than you know that you cannot just ignore it.  You….must….act upon it.

Then say you’ll share with me
one love, one lifetime
let me lead you from your solitude
Say you need me with you here, beside you…
anywhere you go, let me go too
All I Ask of You– The Phantom Of The Opera

And act you shall even if you are wrapped up in love, lust, hope and confusion. Because sometimes heart battles head. Your head says ‘watch out’ and your heart says ‘shut up.’ The two engage in a ferocious battle for supremacy.

And don’t ask me where
All of the pain goes
‘Cause you make me feel
That I don’t know myself
You say that you want me forever
And I say that love is no crime
So tell me the names of the children
We’ll have at the end of the line

So don’t put your arms around me
And don’t hold me tight
‘Cause I could get used to
Your vision of paradise
And don’t let me near the garden
Of earthly delights
‘Cause I could get used to
Your vision of paradise
Of paradise
Of paradise

Just use your heart not your head
While I fall apart in my bed
I find myself aching for you
I feel myself breaking in two
Visions of Paradise– Mick Jagger

You both say that love should be enough and swear that together your hands intertwined and your hearts as one will find a way to overcome the doubts and demons that have suddenly beset you.

There’s a crazy mirror showing us both in 5-d
I’m laughing at you you’re laughing at me
There’s a room of shadows that gets so dark brother
Its easy for two people to lose each other in this tunnel of love

It ought to be easy ought to be simple enough
Man meets woman and they fall in love
But the house is haunted and the ride gets rough
And you’ve got to learn to live with what you can’t rise above
if you want to ride on down in through this tunnel of love

Tunnel of Love– Bruce Springsteen

But no one knows better than you how the fire that burns so brightly can create chaos of a different sort. No one knows how burning desire can create confusion and in the silence of the night insecurities can build. And sometimes that which seemed unbreakable can be broken. Freed from the shackles that once bound them the whispers of doubt and insecurity go to work upon you both until a wedge is driven betwixt and between. And so it goes until one day something happens and the tower comes tumbling down leaving you battered, bruised and broken.

“Don’t look don’t look” the shadows breathe
Whispering me away from you
“Don’t wake at night to watch her sleep
You know that you will always lose
This trembling
Adored
Tousled bird mad girl… ”
But every night I burn
But every night I call your name
Every night I burn
Every night I fall again

“Oh don’t talk of love” the shadows purr
Murmuring me away from you
“Don’t talk of worlds that never were
The end is all that’s ever true
There’s nothing you can ever say
Nothing you can ever do… ”
Still every night I burn
Every night I scream your name
Every night I burn
Every night the dream’s the same
Every night I burn
Burn– The Cure

So you burn and you ache while you live your life alone and apart. Time passes and you think that you have figured out how to move on. That ache isn’t quite so prominent and the sense of loss feels less urgent and you really wonder if maybe you let go. For a moment you don’t know whether to be happy or sad about it and then something happens. A moment comes and you feel that crazy, mixed up sense of loss and recognize that you haven’t made the progress you thought you had.

“My mind’s distracted and diffused
My thoughts are many miles away
They lie with you when you’re asleep
And kiss you when you start your day.

And a song I was writing is left undone
I don’t know why I spend my time
Writing songs I can’t believe
With words that tear and strain to rhyme.

And so you see I have come to doubt
All that I once held as true
I stand alone without beliefs
The only truth I know is you.”

Kathy’s Song– Simon & Garfunkel

You have heard stories about stages of grief and tales of love undying. You can’t quite decide what to think or what to feel. Just when you thought you were beyond it all those intense feelings creep back in and you feel the fire as if it had never left you.

“I would give anything I own,
I’ll give up my life, my heart, my home,
I will give everthing I own
Just to have you back again
Just to touch you once again ”
Everything I Own– Bread

The biggest difference is that you don’t feel desperate like you once did. Now you feel the emptiness and doubt but there is some hope. Good old hope- unsought and undesired it has sprung up unexpectedly. You are torn and titillated by hope. It seems a little cruel for it to come to you this way but you remember that this has always been different and that is ok.

“Cecilia, you’re breaking my heart
You’re shaking my confidence daily
Oh, Cecilia, I’m down on my knees
I’m begging you please to come home
Come on home

Jubilation, she loves me again,
I fall on the floor and I’m laughing,
Jubilation, she loves me again,
I fall on the floor and I’m laughing”
Cecilia– Simon & Garfunkel

There is this crazy sort of confidence that has been created inside you that somehow you’ll get your moment. You can picture, touch and taste it. For a long time you thought that whatever you had must be dead inside her. You thought that it was dead because you couldn’t believe that she could stay so far away for so long. But that is not what you think anymore. Now you begin to smile because even though it doesn’t really make sense you have begun to believe that crazy voice inside you is right. Jubilation is coming. All you need to do is find a way to convince her to talk to you. All you need to do is to get her to read your words and the walls that have been erected will come tumbling down.

I can imagine the moment
Breaking out through the silence
All the things that we both might say
And the heart it will not be denied
Till we’re both on the same damn side
All the barriers blown away

I said please talk to me
Won’t you please come talk to me
Just like it used to be
Come on, come talk to me
I did not come to steal
This all is so unreal
Can you show me how you feel now
Come on, come talk to me
Come talk to me [x2]

I said please talk to me
If you’d just talk to me
Unblock this misery
If you’d only talk to me
Come Talk To Me– Peter Gabriel

Or at least you hope it is true.