Shadows and Dancing

"Laura," said a young man talking on the pay phone. He seemed a little disheveled and not exactly happy about talking to the person on the other end of the line. "I know. I'll be home when I get there. I won't be home until late, I'm going out with the guys." He tried to get a word in, but the woman on the other end of the line wouldn't stop talking. "Like I said," he interjected. "I'll be home when I get there." He banged the receiver down without a goodbye.

She's driving me nuts, he thought to himself. Why won't she just leave me alone for two seconds?

Brandon held on to the receiver for a few minutes as he tried to push his anger and frustration out of his mind. He couldn't get his wife's face out of his head. Things had been rough lately and her shortness with him hadn't exactly made things any easier. He'd been forced to take a new job at work. The job required him to travel a lot more than in the past. When he got home after days of being on the road, all he wanted to do was rest and relax, but instead he always walked into an earful. All she talked about were the kids, the house, the bills and the chores she needed him to get done. Why was it that she could never just let him relax? He felt he was being pushed 24/7. Every chance he got to get out with his buddies was a small chance at freedom. He hated feeling that way when he thought about her, but she had turned into a package deal. All the frustration and none of the happiness.

How did we get here? He stroked the back of the receiver. Life and a love aren't supposed to be like this, are they?

"Brandon!" Steve yelled from the lobby.

Brandon woke up from his daydreaming and walked over his group of buddies.

"Ready to go?" One of them asked.

"Sure," he said patting his chest. "Oh my gosh, I left my jacket at our table back in the restaurant. You guys go ahead, I'll meet you there."

"You sure you don't want us to wait?"

"Nah, I'll be there in two shakes." He watched his buddies leave through the lobby doors and then brushed his hand on his chest again.

Oh, my jacket. He turned on his heels and walked over to the concierge's station.

"Can I help you?" said the concierge looking up sweetly from the computer. One of her red curls hung down at her cheek.

"I forgot my jacket in the restaurant. We were there about an hour ago. Has anyone turned it in?"

"Why no sir? I haven't seen one." She said disappointingly. "The restaurant's closed, but you are more than welcomed to go in and have a look for yourself."

"Thanks." He made his way down the short hallway that lead to the restaurant. In front of the opening was a large easel chalkboard with a "CLOSED" sign hung over the specials for the day. He sidestepped the sign and walked into the dimly lit room. He made his way through the maze of chairs to get to his booth that was in a dark corner. With the help of the EXIT lights, he had just enough light to get in where he needed to be without tripping over chairs and tables. He reached into the booth and felt the neck of his jacket barely touching the seat. As he reached down to pick it up, a shadow was cast over him. He turned around slowly and noticed that the shadow continued to glide past him in slow graceful movements.

He was tempted to yell out to let someone know that he was there, but instead opted for quiet. The shadow was moving too softly to be menacing. He decided to investigate. He walked out of the dark corner and followed the shadow until he was close to the restaurant's dance floor. As the shadow moved across the floor, the moon coming through the picture window revealed the silhouette of a couple dancing in it's light.

Brandon, caught by surprise, started to step back so that he wouldn't disturb them, but then realized there was something missing from this scene. There was no music playing. The band had left a half hour before. He noticed that even without music, the same song seemed to be playing in both their heads. He moved back into the darkness and took a seat. He marvelled at how in brief moments their shadows appeared to be that of one person. In other moments, he couldn't tell where the woman's hand ended and where her partner's began. Their faces were barely distinguishable except for the twinkle the moonlight played off their eyes and their smiles.

Sitting there watching this couple, Brandon wondered what it was about them, about their lives that could make them so happy. So happy to be dancing together here in the silence. They looked like almost any other couple. In the dim light, he could tell she was older and her hair was almost entirely white. She was slender and very graceful for her age. The gentleman seemed to hold himself well. He looked as though he used to be very muscular but not in a domineering way. He seemed very protective of his prize and gentle all the same.

As they danced, the man took the woman's hand and lifted it above her head. With his other hand on her slim waist, he gave her a gentle push. As she slowly twirled around him, a sparkle could be seen as the dim light bounced off the golden ring on her left hand. The twirling stopped and she landed safely once again in his arms. He hugged her from behind placing a soft peck on her cheek. He slowly spun her out again and then quickly pulled her toward him. He led her in a quick spin, which was pretty impressive for their age, and then dipped her with as much Fred Astaire grace as he could muster.

As he gently raised her up again, he said, "Mrs. Jones, you dance divinely."

In the shadows, they laughed out loud.

He pulled her in close to him. He placed both his arms around her waist and she placed both her hands behind his neck. They started dancing once again to the silent orchestra playing "Moon River."

Somehow the invisible music filled the room and Brandon could feel it too. The song was no longer just apart of this couple but also apart of Brandon's own memories. He closed his eyes for a second and thought about the last time he and Laura had danced this way. How long had it been? Five, six years ago? The anger that he felt earlier now seemed to disappear into the floor with every step this couple took.

They make love look so easy. He said to himself. Either this couple lives in a fairy tale world or they have really gone to alot of effort to make it look easy. He was tempted to interrupt them, to ask their secret, but as he started to stand up he heard her giggle once again. It looked as though the man was whispering something in her ear. When her giggle was over, she pulled back a little and stopped. Even in the dark, Brandon could feel the love beaming between them. "Mrs. Jones" looked into the man's eyes and they both leaned into each other for a kiss.

Brandon turned his eyes and started to make his way back out of the restaurant. Watching them dance was one thing. Watching a private kiss was something else. As he left the restaurant and turned down the hall, he thought about the couple and wondered what it was about them that could possibly make them so happy.

"Did you find your jacket?" Brandon turned to see the concierge calling to him.

"Yes, ma'am. Thanks." He turned to leave and then thought twice. "Oh, by the way ma'am. I just thought you should know there is a couple back in the restaurant dancing.

"Oh, don't worry. That's Hazel and Fred Jones. They came here for the first time on their honeymoon and we just can't seem to get them to leave at closing time. They've been coming here nearly every Friday night for the last fifty years."

"Wow. They sure look good together." Brandon said with a quiver in his voice.

"Yes, they do. Please don't tell anybody, but I find myself watching them every once in a while, too. Did you know they were friends for four years before they finally found the courage to tell each other how the felt?"

"How do you know that?"

"They tell everyone they meet."

"Sure sounds like they're happy."

"Sure does."

"I wonder how they do it. I mean, it's easy to be happy when you're newlyweds, but to still be happy after all these years they've spent together?"

"Dancing."

"What?"

"I asked them the same question myself. They told me it was all about the dancing."

Brandon smiled at the concierge and started to walk out the front door of the lobby. Before the doors closed behind him, he had turned back around and was walking back in.

"Did you forget something else?" The young woman asked.

"Yes, I forgot to make a phone call."

He walked over to the bank of telephones and place a few coins in the slot. The phone rang twice and a woman answered.

"Laura," he said. "I just wanted to let you know that I changed my mind about going out with the guys. I'll be home in about twenty minutes."

"What's your hurry?" She asked, still angry from their previous conversation.

"I just realized it's been a while since we danced."

"What?" She said in surprise.

"I love you, I'll see you soon." He hung up the phone once again without saying goodbye. This time, as he touched the back of the receiver, a smile came to his face and a few notes of music left his lips. ". . .Moon River and me."

(This is actually the third version of this story. The original is called "Do Not Disturb" which is the post immediately below. The second version is on the archives of www.wtbr.com, I decided to rewrite it for a more family oriented group. This version is for my friends Hazel and Fred, they have been married for almost 60 years. Unbelievably, they are THIS happy.)

1971 -- Chapter 4: The Aisle (Final Draft)

2008

"Sam, I think it's up here."

Angela and Samantha made their way up to the attic. Angela was the first one to the top of the stairs. She ran her hand through a cobweb that was in her way.

"I can tell Tony hasn't been up here in a while." Angela said trying to shake a web off her hand. Since Tony started teaching at Fairfield College in the fall of 1993, the attic and the house in general had taken a backseat to Tony's other responsibilities. "He's going to be furious when he finds out the temp didn't make it up here again."

"How many has that been now?"

"Housekeepers?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, at least one or two a month for the last fifteen years. You do the math."

"Why am I not surprised? I just thought he'd have loosened up by now."

"You know your father." Angela tried to push some of the boxes out of the way, "It must be over here in the corner."

"I can't believe that you kept some of Jonathan's old baby clothes." Samantha rubbed her very pregnant belly. She was eight months along, again and looked like she would pop at any minute.

"I guess I thought I'd be needing them again some day. I would have thought about them sooner, if you hadn't had so many daughters. I'm sure Hank is happy to finally be having a boy."

"People think we're nuts. Sometimes I think we're nuts, but I was the one who told him we'd keep trying 'till we had a boy. I just didn't think it would take six tries."

They continued walking around, moving boxes until Angela found the large dusty trunk hidden in the corner.

"Stand back." Angela grabbed hold of one of the leather handles and pulled with all her might. The trunk didn't move.

"Here, let me try." Sam took the handle from Angela and pull the trunk out of the corner with a simple tug.

"Thanks. Thanks a lot." Angela said rolling her eyes.

Angela knelt down besides the heavy wooden truck. She lifted the lid and a rush of memories seemed to escape. At the top of the pile of keepsakes were several little outfits that once belonged to Jonathan.

"How cute!" Both of them giggled as each outfit was pulled out.

Sam paused for a second while she watched Angela sort through the baby clothes.

"Angela?"

"Yes, sweetheart." She said not really paying attention.

"Do you ever wish you'd had more children?"

Angela looked up and sweetly cupped Sam's cheek. For a moment, Sam thought Angela was going to cry, but instead a broad smile appeared. "I never told you this before, but I always knew that I would have a son and a daughter. Silly me, I had always pictured my little girl in diapers and carrying a baby doll. Who would have guessed she would arrive at my doorstep as a preteen tomboy?"

"Thanks Angela." They embraced as Sam wiped a tear from her cheek.

"I mean, I wish your father and I could have had a baby together, but getting the chance to help raise you was more than a dream come true. Besides, I get my fair share of baby dolls and diapers now. I'm just happy I get to share your children with you. Your dad is so excited about "Little Hank."

"Hey, we haven't decided that's his name for sure."

"I know, it just sounds so cute. So let's see what else we've got in here." Angela grabbed a package tossed it aside.

"What's that?" Sam said grabbing the package.

"Something that needs to get burned."

"Hey come on Angela," she said as she tore open the tissue paper covered package and found the dress Angela wore at her wedding to Michael. "This is something that's part of your history."

"I know, but somethings are better left forgotten."

Tossing the dress aside, Sam reached in and continued pulling things out of the trunk. She laid them in a pile on the floor. Angela began sorting through them and then stopped. She reached down and pulled a well worn red sweat shirt from the pile. She pulled it close to her face and gave it a good squeeze.

"Oh Angela, what the heck is that?" Sam said bring Angela back to reality.

"Oh this? It's just a reminder of my old college days. I thought I lost this years ago." The importance of the newly discovered treasure was written all over Angela's face.

"I didn't know you were a Red Sox fan?" Sam said realizing what Angela was holding.

"I'm not. Just a fan of a guy who almost made the team."

"Looks to me like you were more than a fan." Sam said teasing.

"Cut it out."

"Angela, your blushing."

"Am I?"

"So tell me! What happened?"

"You're not going to believe this. Most days I don't believe it ever happened myself."

"Let me be the judge of that."

"Alright, alright. One day, when Michael and I were dating, we had a fight. I had had enough of him and school. I decided to pack up my stuff and take a bus home. Funny thing was.." She said with giggle. "I never got on the bus. This guy was there." She said holding out the sweat shirt as if it were the guy.

"Oh really? And..."

"There really isn't much to say. I had been walking in the rain to get to the station. I was soaked through. And well, this guy seemed to appear out of nowhere and he put this sweat shirt around me to warm me up. We talked, we drank about six cups of cocoa and had a kiss."

"A kiss!?! So what happened?"

"Well the kiss was wonderful, but it was weird." She paused. "Funny, that was the word he and I both used that night. I can't believe how long it's been since I thought about this. Have you ever felt so good one moment and totally sad the next?"

"I don't. . ."

"He and I both felt the chemistry. Boy, did we feel the chemistry. I don't know how to explain it. We just felt like it wasn't completely right. There was something there, but the timing just felt completely off. Does that make any sense?"

"No!"

"I don't know how. . . He said so many things that night that comforted me. Things I needed to hear, things that helped me get through the hardest times of my life. The times until I met Tony."

"Whatever happened to the guy?"

"I don't know. I don't even know his name."

"You don't know his name? Didn't you ask? Why not?"

"I don't know. I felt like I knew him. It just never came up."

"Did you ever try to find him?"

"I wanted to, but that night after I got back to the dorm, Michael was waiting for me. I guess the rest, you can say, 'is history.' Once, I thought I saw him, though."

"The guy?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"When your father came to interview for the housekeeper job."

"You mean you thought this guy was Dad?"

"For an instant, I did."

"Did you ever ask him?"

"Of course, not. What am I going to say? 'Hey, did you ever share a kiss with a girl you'd only known for a couple of hours in front of a bus station on your way from Boston to New York back in the 70's?' He'd think I'm a little off my rocker."

"What's the worst he can say? No? You ought to ask him. I mean, how wonderful it would be, if you guys really had known it each other before. I mean, you really could have been my mother."

"If he is the guy, and that's still up for debate, there are some very good reasons why were weren't meant to be together yet."

"Like what?" Sam said waiting to see what Angela could come up with.

"Honestly, there were a lot of things. Well, for one I think Marie needed to have the chance to be a mother. You wouldn't have been the woman you are without her." Angela tenderly reached over and brushed her fingers down Sam's cheek. "And I. . .I guess I needed to know for myself that I could live without Michael. I just had to divorce him to do it."

"Angela, come on. You know we have to ask him." Sam said putting her arm around her.

"I've thought about it through the years, but I don't know. I guess I thought if he was the guy something would have sparked his memory by now."

Sam gazed up at Angela with a devilish grin.

"What are you thinking, Sam?" Angela knew by the look in Sam's eyes that she was in trouble. "Sam. . ."

"Well, I was thinking. If it is him, I have an idea that might spark his memory. What if we. . ."



A few days later. . .


"Come on Samantha. We've been in the car for a long time. Don't you think you'd better tell me where we're going?" Tony'd been blindfolded for about forty-five minutes."

"Come on Da, it'd take all the fun out it. Besides, we're almost there."

Sam pulled the car over in front of an old dinner and led him to a table inside. She motioned to the waitress who walked over to the bathroom door and knocked on it.

"Where are we, Sam?" He said as she pulled off the blindfold.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. He found himself sitting at a booth with two cups of cocoa in front of him with a can of whipped cream sitting near by.

"What the. . ."

"Bye, Dad. I'll see you later." Sam walked out the side door.

"But Sam, how am I..." As the door closed behind Sam, a reflection in the glass came into focus.

"Maddone a'mi . . " His jaw dropped as he watched a girl in a red sweat shirt walk towards him. The diner, the girl, the sweat shirt; all of it hit him in the face like baseball bat. "No, deja vu." As she walked closer to him, he realized the girl in the red sweat shirt was Angela, his Angela. Her hair was a lot shorter and blonder than the girl he remembered. The sweat shirt was faded and well worn at the cuffs. She still looked great in the jeans and the blouse fit her better than ever.

"May I have a seat?" she said boldly.

She leaned toward the booth to sit down, but Tony rushed to his feet. He grabbed her by the waist and kissed her. Right there in the middle of the aisle, he kissed her just as he had in the bus station's parking lot all those years before. Just like the last time, it wasn't gentle. It wasn't even neat. It was filled with all the passion, the regret, the love and devotion of the past. This time the peace was there. Only this time it was followed by happiness. The confusion of the thirty-seven year old kiss was gone and all that followed was joy.

As they stopped kissing long enough to take a breath, Tony took a minute to gaze into her eyes.

"So, it took me a couple of smacks," he joked.

"Yeah, just a few. I'm glad to meet you, Tony." She leaned in and kissed him again.

A waitress walked up behind them with a pot of cocoa in her hand. "Huh, hum! Do you two need any refills?" After a few moments passed with no answer, the waitress dropped off the ticket, and left to serve another table.



"So, can I refill your cups?" She said to the couple sitting a few tables down.

"No, Shirley," said the young Italian man reading her name tag. "I think we're good." He was sitting at the table with a very attractive young blonde. "We'll be leaving soon." He said as he left fifteen dollars on the table.

"Thanks," Shirley said taking the cash with a smile.

The End

(Thanks for reading. "If you have any pity in your soul" tell me you like my story. "You can always say no later." Please leave your review on the way out.)

Thanks for the great line: Phil Doran, Bob Resenfarb and Danny Kallis

1971 -- Chapter 3: The Bench

Chapter 3: The Bench

They happily past the next half hour talking and laughing. By the time the waitress came by to see if they needed refills, they had discussed everything from their latest album purchase to the names of childhood pets.

“Is there anything else I can get you two?,“ the waitress asked, pouring each of them another cup of water.

“No thank you, Shirley.” He said reading her name tag. “We’ll be leaving soon.“ He dropped a couple dollar bills on the table and pushed them toward the waitress.

“Thanks,“ Shirley said with a smile.

They started to collect their things when he offered to carry her bag.

“It’s alright, I’ve got it.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

He opened the door for her and let her pass through. They strolled across the small parking lot and crossed the street. She got caught up in their simple conversation. Their words and the comfort they brought left her feeling safe in a way she never remembered feeling before.

“Jonathan and Samantha,” he said with a giggle.

“Who?”

“You and Michael’s kids.”

“Oh, them. That is kind of funny, isn’t it.”

“No, I think it’s cute. Any particular reason for the names?”

“Not really, I’ve just always liked them. I just always saw myself with a little boy and a little girl and the names just seemed to fit.”

“I could see that.

“So, a . . where are you from, away?”

“I’m from Brooklyn. Born and raised.”

They reached the bus station again and sat down on a bench out front.

“I guess I could’ve figured that out by your accent.”

“Hey, no problem. And you?”

“Me? Born on I-95 and I raised in Fairfield, Connecticut.”

“You were born on a freeway? Really?”

“Yes. It wasn’t really a freeway back then, but it was were the freeway is now.

“Now, I’ve heard of people being born in a barn or in their parents’ bedroom, but on the open road? That’s a new one.“

“I know. Well, my father was a banker. He worked for a pretty big place. He loved counting money, but he really didn’t like to spend it. Even though they could afford it, they only had one car. That was fine with my mother.

“She like to be pampered and with my Dad willing to drive her everywhere, she always felt like a princess. She never went anywhere without him.

“The day I was born was no different,“ she said. “He left for work and she was at home, same as always. About lunchtime, she started to feel a little strange, so she called Daddy. He told her that he’d come home and take her to the hospital. He’d be running errands later so it would be easier to come home now. She told him not to worry about it and that it was probably nothing. Of course, it wasn‘t. Her water broke and she was in a panic. She called everyone she could think of. They finally tracked my father down and he came speeding home. A couple of people stopped by the house to try to take her to the hospital, but she wouldn’t go without Daddy. When he finally made it home he carried her out to the car, put her into the back seat and started driving. They were on the “freeway” when Mom started yelling, ‘Pull Over! Pull Over! We’re not gonna make!’ Dad panicked. He pulled over and climbed into the back seat. He’d left the door open, so a passing police officer pulled over to warn him. They ended up delivering me right then and there.”

“Really? You’re joking?”

She held up her right hand and said, “I’ll swear it on a stack of Bibles. Honest truth.”

“Well, then what happened?”

“Well, as my Dad was looking for something in the trunk to wrap me in, a man tapped him on the shoulder. It turned out this guy was a doctor. He asked if he could make sure that my Mom and I were okay. Of course, Dad said yes. He checked us each over and gave us a clean bill of health. Dad walked over to close the trunk and said, “Sir, what do I owe you?” But there was no answer. He looked up and realized that the man had completely disappeared. There was no trace of him anywhere.”

“Wow, “ he said in amazement.

“The policeman and my father questioned other people who had stopped and no one remembered seeing the doctor.

“Seems to me that someone up in Heaven wanted to make sure you got off to a good start.”

She didn’t know if it was the stress of the day or just the sound of his voice, but she couldn’t stop herself. Before she knew it, she was leaning forward and so was he. She closed her eyes a second before she felt the caress of his lips against hers. She went limp as she felt his arms around her and felt him pull her closer to him. The kiss wasn’t gentle but carried with it a feeling of peace that she’d never experienced in any other kiss. His arms enveloped her completely. He took her breathe away, but for this moment she could live without air. This was it.

Then it wasn't. When the kiss was over, they pulled apart and took a good look at one another.

"What was. . ." He said trying to figure out this feelings.

"I know that was weird." Realizing once again that her word choice was off. "I don't mean weird "bad". . ."

"No, I know what you mean."

"There is something there, isn't there?"

"Yes, but something doesn't feel right."

"Like maybe. . ."

"It's not time."

Starring into each others eyes, they ran through all the reasons why it could work and all the reasons why it couldn't. In their silence, they seemed to be speaking volumes to each other.

All at once she had feelings of loss and surety come over her. "I don't understand how I can feel so good and so sad all at the same time."

"It's funny how fate seems to bring people together."

"I guess God knew I needed you tonight."

He held her in his arms, trying to figure out a way to make the moment last as long as possible.

“I don't know how to explain this. You're gonna think I'm crazy," he said. "But I have a feeling that if we play our cards right, we’ll meet again. And if and when we do, we’ll know it’ll be for keeps.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because sometimes you have to say goodbye to say hello, again.”

With a lot of regret, he looked down at his watch and realized his bus would be arriving shortly.

“I think you know what you need to do.”

"Yes. I know.” She said looking down.

“Do you want me to call you a cab?“

“No, I’ll call my roommate, Wendy. She should be off work by now. I’m sure she can come to get me.”

He finally broke their embrace, but still held her hand. He walked over to the phone with her and listened while she placed the call.

“Hey Wendy. . . Yes, of course I’m okay. I’m here at the bus station. Can you. . . He what? Well, he’s the one that’s going to have to wait now. Can you please just come and get me? Don’t tell him where I am, okay? Okay. . . I’ll see you soon.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, Wendy said that Michael’s has been looking for me for the past few hours. It seems that he’s had a change of heart and thinks we need to talk.”

“He’s right. I still think he’s an idiot, but I have a feeling that your absence tonight will be just the wake call he needs to help him realizes what he’s got in front of him.”

“Do you think it will take a few “smacks” for it to sink in with him, too?”

“Maybe more than a few.”

The next fifteen minutes passed without much conversation. She enjoyed being held in his arms and he enjoyed holding her. She looked down and realized that his thumb was wrapped around hers again. Fate sometimes could be so cruel. She somehow knew that it wasn’t meant to be. . .yet. ‘Maybe another time, another place.’ Inside she was screaming, Please God! Let him be right!

His bus pulled into the parking lot. He grabbed her bag and helped her place the straps on her shoulder. He grabbed his suitcase and made his way over to the bus.

Her feet were planted. She wanted to run to him, but something was holding her to the ground. “So this is it?” She yelled to him a few feet away. “What if we never see each other again?”

He put his suitcase down by the cargo hold and ran back to her.

“We will.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead and gave her hand one last squeeze.

They stood starring at each other, each trying to memorize the features they each knew they’d forget.

The headlights from Wendy’s car caught them by surprise. Wendy pulled along side her while he let go of her hand and started walking back towards the bus.

Wendy stopped the car, slid over and opened the passenger side door.

“Angela?“ Wendy said.

Not paying attention to Wendy, she waved to him as he boarded the bus.

“Who was that?” Wendy questioned.

“My future.”

“Does you’re future have a brother? Because boy is that guy cute.”

Angela was too caught up in the moment to say goodbye. She simply waved as the bus drove away.

“So what’s Mr. Future’s name?”

“I don’t know." She said with a little regret. "I forgot to ask. But you know what? I think he looks like a “Tony.”

(Merry Christmas!)

1971 --Chapter 2: The Cafe

He sat anxiously at the booth near the front door of the cozy little café across from the bus station. He wanted to makes sure they got a clear view of the next bus’ arrival. Two mugs sat in front of him. One for her and one for him. The whipped cream on top had already melted down into the chocolate. He began to wonder what was taking her so long.

I do? He had almost said it back there in the bus station. He was almost going to say care for you as much as I do. Whoa, there. He was heading into some foreign territory, even for him. My gosh, I hope she didn’t hear what I almost said, he thought to himself. He gazed out the window and then noticed her walking towards him in the window’s reflection.

“Madonne a’mi,” he said in his best Italian as he turned to look at her. “Boy, do you clean up good.”

She had taken a few extra minutes to change her clothes and fix her hair. She was wearing a pair of blue jeans with a white peasant blouse. He notice that she’d been sure to keep on his sweat shirt. Her sandy blonde hair, which was almost dry, now laid softly almost to her waist.

He starred at her trying to memorize this moment. How could this beauty be walking towards me? he thought. Me and a college girl? He tried to shake off the awkwardness of the thought. I ain’t so bad. She could do worse.

“May I take a seat? ” she said shyly.


“By all means,“ he stood up and helped her put her duffle bag under the table. “I’m so glad you found some dry clothes.”

“Me, too. I was getting rather chilly.”

“I took the liberty of ordering our cocoa. I hoped it would be cool enough to drink when you got back. I, ah, hope you like it with whipped cream.”

“Thanks for asking the waitress to leave the can,” she said as she reached for it. She sprayed a baseball sized portion into her mug.

“A girl after my own heart.”

He watched her take a sip. He couldn’t believe how comfortable he felt with her. Why was he being so forward? It’s wasn't like anything was going to happen between them. He was from Pitkin Avenue. She was from the ‘burbs. Every doubt in the world began to surface. Why was he trying so hard? Then again, why shouldn’t he. She could do worse and from what this jerk Michael sounded like, she probably already had. This might not be for eternity,” he thought to himself. But I won’t know, if I don’t try.

He watched her take another sip and then realized that she had caught him starring. Now, he was the one with the rosy cheeks.

“That’s a beautiful necklace you have there,” he said noticing the diamond solitaire.

“Oh, thank you.” She absent-mindedly grabbed it and started running her fingers up and down the chain. It brought a smile to her face.

“It must have been a gift from a great guy to bring on that kind of smile.”

“It was. It was a gift from my father.”

She bit her lip and for a moment, seemed to be lost in a memory.

“Are you okay?” he said bringing her back to the present.

“I’m fine, really. I just hadn’t thought about it for a while.”

“Mind sharing?”

“No, I don't mind. It’s okay. Mother says she remembers my Dad being so happy the day I was born. As soon as visiting hours were over, my Dad started walking through the town. He came across a small jewelry store. There in the window was this necklace. He decided right then and there that he would give it to me for my 16th birthday. He told my mother that when he saw it, the diamond’s twinkle reminded him of the one he’d seen in my eye.”

She stopped talking and bit her lip again.

“He died when I was fourteen, so my mother was the one who gave it to me. She tried so hard to express all the love he had felt the day he’d bought it. I just wish he could have lived to give it to me himself. I miss seeing the twinkle in his eyes.”

He had done it again. He’d found another reason to make her upset.

“I’m so sorry,“ he said apologetically.

“Really, you have nothing to be sorry about. You didn’t know. Anyway, that was along time ago. I’m just glad to know that my father loved me. That’s what’s important.”

“I lost my mom when I was young, too.”

“Really? But back there at the station you said she‘d smack you for not being a gentleman?”

“Oh, yeah. Well, that’s what my father always said to me.” He tried to imitate his father‘s thick Italian accent, ‘Boy! If your mother saw you doing that, she’d a smack a you.’ I’ve always had a vision of getting up to Heaven to finally be with my mom and having her smack me for all the things I shouldda done. Actually, for all the things I did do.”

“I guess that’s one way to get you to behave.”

“Yeah, I guess so. She died of complications and my little brother only lived for about forty-five minutes afterwards. My Dad was afraid to tell me for the longest time. I don’t even remember how he broke the news to me. I just remember wondering how long a vacation was really supposed to last.”

“I’m sorry. I. . I didn’t mean to pry,” she said reaching for his hand.

“No, you’re not. It happened when I was really young. I don’t remember much about her anymore. I love to go into the Woolworth’s, though. They carry the kind of perfume she used to wear. It’s funny, the things you remember about someone.”

Now it was his turn to get lost in a memory.

“Who would have guessed that something so beautiful like a diamond could remind you of something so sad," she said as she lovingly stroked the top of his hand.

“Yeah. That’s okay, though. It’s nice to remember every once in a while.”

After an awkward silence he said, “Other than the sad walk down memory lane, are you feeling any better?”

“Yes, a little. Though there are some things I wish I could forget.”

“How long were you and Michael going out?”

“Is that anyway to help me forget?”

“I don’t know. I was just a curious. I mean you seem to have it bad for this guy. I just wondered how long it took you to get to the “can’t live without him” phase?”

“Two years next Thursday.”

“Two years? I guess it would be kindda hard to “live without him” by now.”

“Is your curiosity quenched? Can we please change the subject now?”

“Wait. Wait just a minute. I have a few more questions. . . for the sake of research.”

She rolled her eyes and then decided that it was all in fun. “Fine. Fire away.”

“Okay, a. . .let me think. What was the last present he gave you?”

“It was a leather briefcase.”

“Oh, how romantic,” he said sarcastically.

“How would you know? To me it was romantic. I’d just applied to Harvard’s School of Business. He was trying to be supportive.”

"Sounds like he does think of you every once in a while."

"Well, he does most of the time. Just not as much lately."

"I'm gonna kick myself in the morning, but what have you been doing to let him know you're thinking of him? You know love is a two way street."

"You know that you have got to be the most attractive annoying man I've ever met."

"So you think I'm attractive, ay?" Tugging at his shirt proudly.

"You forgot the annoying part," she said.

“Whattcha studying anyway?”

“Well, I’m a junior. I’ve got about two semesters left until I get my Bachelors in Media Arts and Sciences. If I get accepted at Harvard, I’d like to get my MBA, maybe work in Advertising.”

The shock and awe of her last statement took a moment to wear off. Boy am I out of my league, he thought. What am I doing here?

His uneasiness showed.

“Hey, don’t be to impressed. Remember I told you before, things aren’t going so well.”

“Yeah, but look how far you’ve come. You just have to have a little faith. Things might have been bad, but they can still get better. Just think, some day you could be president of one of those advertising places.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You just ooze optimism. It doesn’t come that easily to me.”

“Hey, it’s like they say, ‘Fake it ‘til you make it.’ You just keep telling yourself that you can do it until you actually find that you can.”

“I think you’ve been to one to many pep rallies.”

”No really, it works. I promise.”

“If it works so well, are you going to take some of your own advice?”

“My own advice?”

“If you don’t make the Red Stockings team, are you going to try-out somewhere else?”

“Red Sox. Red Sox. And yes, I’ll try-out again. That’s a promise.”

“Good.” A smile reappeared on her lips. "Besides, my buddy told me that one of the St. Louis Cardinals' farm teams has try-outs in a week."

"Now, I know that chickens live on a farm, but I've never heard of cardinals living on one."

He tried so hard to keep quiet, but finally broke out laughing uncontrollably.

Her face was bright red. "What did I say?"

"Don't worry about it. Just know that I'll keep trying 'til I make it."

They each lifted their mugs and toasted to their renewed commitment.

They each lifted their mugs and toasted to their renewed commitment.

“To trying to find the silver lining in life,” she joked.

“To hitting the ball out of the park as often as possible.”

They tapped their mugs together. For a second, there was nothing to say. For a lifetime, there was everything to say. He felt so amazed how two people from two different worlds seemed to have so much in common. How were they able to speak so easily with each other after only an hour? He wanted to hold on to this feeling, forever if he could. But how?

Merry Christmas, Everyone!

*Thanks angie 1379 on www.wtbr.com who got me thinking about the necklace

Who's the Boss?- Fan Fiction "981"

981 days. 981 days. Had that much time really past?

Angela sat in her bedroom marking her calendar. 981 days had passed since that wonderful day when she sat in her therapist's office. That was the day she realized she loved Tony.

Marking her calendar had become part of her nightly routine. She would say good night to everyone and then go into the her bathroom for her nightly pampering. When that over she'd walk over to her bed, pull out her calendar and mark off another day.

Another day that she hadn't had the courage to tell Tony how she felt. In the past she had made bargains with herself. "I'll do it before I hit a 100." "I'll do it before I hit 500." Every night she'd mark the calendar and wonder what had happened that day that had kept her from her goal. Some days after a fight, she would be glad she hadn't spoken up. Other days, she would feel they had come so close and she'd kick herself.

Once the calendar was marked, she would read a book and wait for the sound of his snores. Some nights it only took a moment, others an hour or two. Once she was sure he was asleep, she'd tiptoe across the hall. Slowly, she'd open his door. She would stand in his doorway for sometimes seconds, minutes. It all depended on how quiet she was or how soundly he was sleeping. She'd stand there until she couldn't hold it in anymore. "I love you, Tony." Several times during the last few years, she would find herself saying it loud enough she was sure she would wake him. A few times, he had turned in his sleep and had said "I love you, too." It was always worth the risk of waking him up to hear those four words. Some days, it made her cowardice worth it. This way she couldn't get hurt. She would hear him say it, even if she couldn't show it.

Day 981 was here and again she hadn't said anything. Lately, she hadn't minded too much. Just eight short months ago, they had found themselves making out on a bench in Jamaica. They had discussed their future. They had decided not to make a decision about their relationship yet, but at least the subject had come up. She had let that moment on the bench keep her warm every night for those past eight months. Tonight, she held on to that memory as she waited for him. She knew he'd be home late tonight because he was meeting with his study group. She had given them the idea to get a hotel room. She could wait up for him. It wouldn't be long before he'd be home, she thought to herself, as she drifted to sleep.