Grace of an Exhale... A Taste

He heard the harp sweet music wafting through the air to temptingly caress his check. It was delicate, light, refreshing, and he knew with the purity of his being, that it came from her. He leaned into it, forcing the heavy rusting chains that shackled him to the dank wall to whine and moan out of their stillness. For a moment the plucking of the music, her music, was lost. He held his breath and prayed desperately that it did not leave him. Beads of sweat formed on his brow as he tried to will the music to come back to him. The looming threat of complete isolation slunked toward him from the dark corners like a giant ogre, ready to sit on him, until the weight on his chest was so unbearable that his lungs implode from loneliness. From being separated from her.
In his dreams they were together. Walking through a field on the edge of a village, he was free to look at her, stroke her hair, and touch the softness of her hand with the calloused one of his own. Sometimes in his dream, they would sit by the water, eating apples she gathered along the way and watching the water flow by. Each wondering where the stream of their own life would take them, and when it would feel like it would really begin.
He always hated waking from those dreams. It was as if the Gods themselves were trying to break him, but bringing him so close to all that he desired in his sleep, but when awake, stealing it viciously away. It felt unbearable.
Awake the guards tried ways of breaking him too. They brought her in, and stood her just beyond the reach of his chains. At first he tried with all his strength to reach her. They laughed and mocked him when he couldn’t. They held her as a prize over him to entice him to give in. But they didn’t know, she was not someone to give or take as a possession, as a thing. She was more. She knew it, as did he. He stopped his struggle and just looked straight into her eyes. Beautiful clear green eyes. Motionless she stared back at him, speaking all the words that they couldn’t aloud.
Next they attempted a different tactic, one to fill him with rage and jealousy. One of the guards, the large brutish one reached over and fondled her breast. Then the brute drew her roughly to him, forcing her to be pressed against him as he ran his thick hands over her. Not one shackle did he move while watching this. He did not move, or react in any way. The guards did not understand the power of their love, how could they? They knew nothing but slimy physical pleasures. She closed her eyes, and he felt a soft breath on his ear. She was not in her body which was being roughly handled by this brute, that was just a shell, an image of the real. She caressed his face with her spirit, and his spirit reached out to touch her. They embraced, drawing from each other strength, commitment, and hope.
They were held as one until another guard shoved her roughly to the ground. The force of the fall pulled her back into her body, her shell. He felt her departure like the grace of an exhale.
They didn’t show her to him after that. They knew it wouldn’t work. They kept her close though. They thought that him hearing her tears and whimpers would break him. But she made no such sound for the world to hear. All her cries were internal, and he would have heard them as clear as glass breaking if she were two feet from him, or two hundred miles.
That is why he strained so hard to hear the music, her music. He knew, with the surety of his soul, that she sat close by eyes closed. Imagining the field where they walked, or the barn where he first ventured a kiss, the ancient oak where they promised to meet, or any other golden memory that they created together. He knew she held out her hands before her, plucking gently at the harp of air creating sweet music. The chains silenced, and the gentle plucking caressed him once more as his tears formed a soft cadence.

Unfinished Tribal Tale...A Taste

She awoke in the dirt beside her bed. Dust clung to her face, as she opened her eyes, staring in to the side of the straw filled mattress. Her pillow sat upon the bed, a high bright mountain of mango red unperturbed by its owners dirt-ridden sleep. Her blanket at least, had the decency to follow its master to the floor, keeping her body heat close during the chill of the early morning. She looked again at her mattress, before a noise reached her ears. Wishing she could pretend it away, she held on a few minutes more. But the noise persisted it sounded like a forced throar clearing and a humm. She softly turned over and looked toward the door. There were three standing in the doorway. One young man, an old woman, and a girl child. The man had his head in the farthest, but would not cross the boundary of the room with his body. He was the one making the noise, urging her to rise. Pushing weariness aside for duty, she rose in one fluid motion, and treading on bare feet, walked beween them, out the doorway of her hut. The man and two women followed. The whole village was gathered near the water’s edge, in the pre-dawn stillness when birds are still tuning their voices, and animals are still cozy in their dens. The village gathered at the waters edge, waiting for her. The woods surrounding the people the huts, and the tribes territory was bathed in a thin veil of mist, but the river, the water itself was covered by a thick, voluminous fog that was shielding the water from sight. If one didn’t know of the river, they might just see a wall of fog. It looked like a cloud path winding through the forest, thick and eerily threatening.. The kind that would lure small children to follow in play, only to be lost forever. The elders could smell the menace in it, while others just felt unease.
The village watched her in a sort of reverent anxiousness. She walked to her place in front of the river of fog. The man melted back into the village, his task was done. The child picked up a large bowl, and carefully stepping toward the dense fog, scooped up some of the hidden water. She then held it up, while the older woman stood behind her, and the village watched, breathless.
Anna took the bowl from the girl’s small hands, and just as the sun shone its first rays through the trees, she took a deep draught of the water.
Instantly the thick, vile fog that bound the river dissipated. The village let out a cheer, and rushed to the water’s side, scooping up handfuls of water into their mouths, onto their hair, their skin and each other, rejoicing. Further down the river, deer timidly stepped near the banks, and lowered their head to the water. Raccoons bent their heads, along with rabbits, foxes, and other animals of the forest.
But Anna did not see any of this. The poisoned water was currently seeping from her stomach into her bloodstream, dousing every part of her body in its wrathful pain. She collapsed to the ground, and the bowl went rolling away. With ever weakening limbs, she crawled back to her hut. With the help of the old woman, she crawled into bed, crushing the high, serene mountain that was her pillow. The old woman tenderly wiped the sweat from her forehead, then quietly slipped from the hut, to share in the revelry of the village.
A thick haze of pain kept her confined to her bed until the sultry heat of late morning, forced her to leave her hut in search of a breeze. She stumbled out, and sat for a while with her back leaning against the mud wall of her hut. A cool breeze crossed her face, lifting the sweat as it passed. The poison was weakening, and needed to be purged. So she walked a pace into the woods, squatted and made water. After she felt better. She returned to her hut, put on a new robe and went to see her people. She walked away from her hut and into the village. She walked to the elder women who sat weaving clothes, making food, and sharing their wisdom with the pregnant women and injured men who were confined to the village. Between stories, and stitches, each person acknowledged Anna in their own way. The elder women bobbed their heads, the injured men and pregnant women called out a greetings like songbirds, reaching out their arms to be touched. She touched them all with a tender greeting, then continued down the path to the fields. She walked through the trees, remembering days that she would follow her mother. Walking though the forest, her mother would sing songs. Songs about the village’s life, its stories and its past. She would teach the stories to Anna, telling her that a tribe’s past is what gives it life in the present. Anna still felt the poison cycling in her, but not as intensely as this morning. She could function, and hopefully help her tribe will continue to survive. She arrived at the fields just before the hot meal. The time when her people stopped, ate, exchanging news, then slept beneath the cool of the trees, while the heat of the sun gave life to the plants, and dried the fruits to be used during famine. She cam upon them when the food was being distributed. The men and women voiced their greeting, as the children ran to touch the “Water Woman” For a few minutes, the bottom half of her was completely hidden by the bright colored clothes of the children, along with brown little arms, stretching as far around Anna as they could. After the children calmed down, she sat among the adults, listening and sharing news of the morning. After the meal was done, one child, pushed by the others shyly asked Anna to sing them a song before the rest. She put on a theatrical face of deep thought. Then excusing herself from the adults, lead the children away to a cool place to lie down. They spread their blankets and sat on them leaning forward in anticipation. Anna dramatically raised her hand in protest that no song could be sung while any child sat up. Instantly every child laid down. Some on their back, some on their side, but with every pair of bubbling brown eyes looked eagerly at Anna. She noticed that some of the adults were settling down near her. Close enough to be within earshot, but not close enough to seem too eager to hear children’s stories.
A mischievous look came into Anna’s eyes as she started humming one song, then softly started singing the refrain, and then promptly stopped, bringing an abrupt end to the story that had just started to breathe. The children sent up a cry of protest, and the adults laughed quietly, this was a game that Anna enjoyed.
“What?” she asked. “you are dissatisfied with my story”
“Yes” cried out the children in unison.
Well what do you want?”
“More!” They replied, enjoying this bantering back and forth as much as Anna was.
“More? How much more?” She asked, scratching her head in mock concern.
“All of it!” They cried in glee, for they new it was a long story.
“Hmm, I know what I will do, I will sing until you sleep.”
“After little thought, the children agreed, one vowing loudly to stay awake until the story met its end.”
After the agreement was made, Anna had the children get comfortable, as she introduced the story as a hum, then a wordless melody. Finally, when the tale was ready to present itself, the words spilled from her mouth into the ears and imaginations of her people. As she sang, she walked silently among the children, her bare feet striking the ground rhythmically. As the story progressed, she made a swift stooping motion and made a tossing action onto the lying children. Much like a farmer would scoop wheat and toss the seeds evenly into the ready earth before him. Although she was throwing nothing, the children each felt their muscles relaxing, their eyes getting heavier, and the voice of the story drifting away. Not long after the story was begun, Anna slowly brought it to a halt, with the silent inner promise that it would be released in it entirety, if only it could wait for the evening meal. After the story was eased of its fear of becoming a half completed blanket, forgotten and discarded, Anna looked upon her people. The children curled up like little round brightly colored gifts. And the adults, laying separate or in pairs. The concerns of the fears which they hold, gently set aside, like the tools that they use to prepare the soil with.
Sleep brings peace and oblivion, and that is all Anna ever wanted for her people. Peace, and oblivion. Not having to know the pain that must be endured to ensure their survival. Oblivion from the poison that contaminates her body. She slowly withdrew from her sleeping people, holding them in a protected ring of peace. She walked though the trees, under the great green arching limbs, beside deer tracks, and on fox paths until she reached the bank of the river. The river, mother to all in the village, source of life and source of death. Anna greets the goddess with the respect she demands. Then softly lowers herself to its banks, and watches as the water passes smoothly by. There she contemplates. The river in its harsh death, and yielding life. Her people, and her village. Still weakened by the poison that contaminated her blood and what lingers, Anna sits.
Today she is preoccupied by something. The pairs that were resting. It fascinated her to watch the pairs, because no matter what was done, the pairs, when given the chance would return to each other. Much like a robin returns to her chicks, or a turtle returns to the water. It is natural for the pair to be together. Some were single at one time, then a change happened and they became a pair. Some have been pairs for long times, but no matter how long they have been pairs, it is entirely natural for them to be together.
Anna thought more and more about the pairs. They were intriguing, because she never had a pair. She had her mother at one time, but that was not a pair, that was more like a teacher and a pupil, not an equal pair that Anna sees sharing sun mat sleep by each other. Anna wondered what it would be like to have a pair. To be with someone instead of with solitude. What kind of interactions do pairs have? What do they say, what do they do? Anna wondered into the swirling voyaging waters.

Mercy Kill...a taste

Pain.
Sinking deeper like a corkscrew, through flesh, muscle, bone. Screaming a language beyond that of words, beyond ideas. A language so loud it explodes into a world of its own. Eclipsing any other world of people, cities, sun, or war. Eyes shut, I wander through my agony, as I lay in the dirt, my head pushed against a rock. Some while ago my hand touched my left leg. I felt wetness. The solid assurance of my leg was gone. But I could barely attend to it, the pain screaming ripped my mind away.
Time was a distant idea. Had it been moments, days, or weeks since I opened the door to walk into my home after temple? Then, a bright red, unbelievable heat, I was thrown backwards. I heard screams, cries of help, and people running. Such chaos, but my pain was already consuming me, pushing everything else away. Some time later I felt water fall on me. What could that be? Rain. For a while I heard a lone child whimpering. He sounded close, but so far away.
He is silent now.
Now here I lay, in the dark world beneath my eyelids, a sole habitant of my own uncontrolable pain. Distantly I feel another hand upon me. With great effort I return to this other world and open my eyes. There is a thick creature in green leaning over me. I squint and look into its face. Even that is painted green, or brown, it’s hard to tell. He speaks to me like a human, but I understand not his words. I gather my strength and say “Hello Jack” His name is probably not Jack, but it is the only English I know. Besides any other words would have been halted, blood is now pooling in my mouth. I look up at him with my last bit of energy. He puts his hand over my eyes. My dark world rushes back. I hear a distant loud bang and then the screaming world of pain within myself starts to quiet, in a slow rush, like a dam crumbling into the river. My head drops limply to the side, as I stare blankly at the charred remains of the foundation of my house, the last thing I hear are the words.
“Mercy kill.”

Genevieve's Romance... A gulp

Just finished unloading boxes, Genevieve sat down on an old dusty chair, exhausted. The last three whirlwind days, she spent driving from Michigan to Colorado, and the two weeks before that she spent packing up her house, making arrangements with the new renters, and wrapping everything up at work. She was the definition of exhausted. With moving, there is so much to do, so much to plan. She realized that for the last week she was just completing task after task on a giant checklist. Now she finds herself at the end of her list, in a far away state with no one she knows. Grasping for other tasks, she thinks, “Well I could clean the summer cabin turned home and start unpacking my things. But that seems like just too much work to do.” Not wanting to work, she listlessly looked over her shoulder, seeing the majestic Rocky Mountains rising breathlessly out her window. She stared, she didn’t know how much time passed, her clocks were still in boxes, but a grumble from her stomach roused her.
She grabbed her purse, and headed back into town. Back home in Michigan, she would call up her coworker, or maybe a good friend from school, and they would go out. No, not back home, that was the place she used to live, this is her home now. She mentally reminded herself. Looking back on her sister’s old summer cabin that she purchased as a house, she realized she never felt so alien in her own home before.
She went to a local diner, she liked small time mom and pop restaurants more than the big chains. Sure the big chains had more on the menu, but they could never capture the small town Americana, like a hole in the wall local restaurant. She sat alone, feeling even more alone. Wishing she grabbed a book on her way out she was left with no other amusements between when the waitress came and when the food came, other than look at other people.
She had been there two weeks. In that time, she met the dog groomer, and the Grocer, both pleasant, married men. She joined a women’s health club. She wanted to join a co-ed one, but the last one she went to had a creepy old man there, and she ended up avoiding the gym most of the time, just to avoid him.
The first time she met Dirk Douglas was at the coffee shop. He got her coffee. She didn’t think much of him. Sure he was good looking, but he was working at a little coffee shop. How much potential does that hold? She had already dated enough guys just to date, now she wanted to look for someone with more long term abilities. But this didn’t mean that she was completely done window shopping and admiring from afar.
Sitting down with her coffee, she opened up her laptop to e-mail her friends back home. Lately she became obsessive with this. Even though the news that she had to tell them was marginal, she finished unpacking the kitchen, she painted the living room, or that her dog caught a rat out in the shed, she looked for any excuse to go online and update those she left behind. She loved hearing about their days, When May went out partying and drank too much. When her mom gave her three Alapaha blue blood dogs a bath, the surprise birthday bash a coworker was planning for their boss. Getting their e-mails made her feel she was still a part of their lives. It was a bit of happiness in her day. But every time she shut her computer, a wave of sadness swept over her. Sure she had years to build those friendships back home, and she had only been here two weeks. But it gets hard not having a friend you can call up and see.
She started putting her computer in her bag when the Coffee shop boy set a napkin down with a cookie on it. She looked up surprised. He smiled a warm smile then sat down across from her.
“It’s from the gentleman across the room” he said.
She looked around, feeling odd, and said, “There’s no one else here.”
“Yeah, I know, but I always wanted to say it.” He admitted
She laughed, “It does sound very James Bond-esque” She said.
He flashed her a debonair smile and said, “I try”
She laughed in spite of herself.
“So, you have the privilege of knowing my name, but I have yet to meet the pretty new girl in town.”
“Umm, I don’t know your name.” she corrected.
“Yeah you do, check your receipt.” He replied.
She dug in her coat pocket, there were about five receipts all crumpled up. Three was from gas stations, one when she was driving through Nebraska, One was to the Hardware store, the name on that one was Steve, he had really bad breath, but he tried to be a sweet old man, so she had to be nice to him. And finally the last receipt she pulled out was from McDonalds, a few days earlier. She looked up, embarrassed, where had she put the receipt? She dug in other pockets. Finally in her back pants pocket, she found the receipt for the coffee shop. Right beneath the date and above the transaction it said ‘Server Dirk’.
“Dirk?” She looked up at him quizzically.
“Guilty on both accounts”. He smiled.
He seemed ready and willing to chat. But Genevieve felt differently.
“Aren’t you supposed to be serving drinks or something?” She asked.
“Do you see any other customers? He responded, settling further in his chair. He looked comfortable, and Genevieve was starting to wonder how she was going to shake this guy.
“Still, don’t you have behind the scenes work that needs to get done, or something?” She asked.
“Pushing me away already?” He chided pleasantly.
“No.” Genevieve said quickly her mind racing, weighing the options. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but she didn’t want to be overly nice and lead him on. She took many chances on guys that had more potential than a coffee shop boy and it ended up in disappointment. While her mind was reeling like a piano metronome trying to figure out what to say, she finally decided to throw caution to the wind.
“You know, I’m sure you are a great guy, but you work at a coffee shop, and I just got here, and no offense and all, but.” She stammered. This new found self apparently was bad with words.
“So what are you saying?” He asked as she stood with her bag.
“I’m saying, thank you for the cookie.” She smiled, simply. She did not owe him any explanation beyond that.
He rose too, and gently grasping her hand, he raised it to his lips and planted a soft kiss. Her heart melted a little, remembering all the times she watched Pride and Prejudice seeing Mr. Darcy do that to Elizabeth. He slowly turned her hand over and placed the cookie complete with napkin in her freshly kissed hand. She smiled, one of those deep down smiles. Not wanting to mess up a beautiful moment like this. She turned, walked toward the door. Opening it, she turned. “I have to ask, how did you know I was new in town?” She asked.
He gave a sideways smile, and said,” In a town this small, when a beautiful woman moves in, you notice.”
She felt her cheeks flush. He just called her beautiful. Her hand still tingled from the kiss he gave her. She walked home basking in the moment. One of those rare times that makes a woman truly glow.
He was handsome, and could carry on a decent conversation. But he was a coffee shop boy! She knew the type, good looking, loves cars, never cared much for school, never went to college, and making money to fix up some old hot rod. It’s a pity she met too many of the same to think otherwise.
She ate her cookie with dinner of pasta alfredo. On the napkin, underneath the cookie was an e-mail address. H1kr_guy@yahoo.com. She bit her lip. Now the ball was in her court. What was she to do?
After chatting with a friend the next day, she decided to continue on her liberated woman streak and e-mail this guy. Now proper dating custom dictates that a guy waits a full day before attempting to contact the girl, and a girl can feasibly have until three days, with the sooner the contact showing desperation, and the later the contact showing indifference. She knew the rules, she played by them many times, but that was the old Genevieve, and what did the rules ever do for the old Genevieve? Leave her disappointed and alone. Besides, this could be her way to make friends. When you are new in a far off town, you take whatever opportunity you can get to make friends. So, that day, she went to the public library, and e-mailed h1kr_guy.
Hey,
The cookie was great, but Oatmeal Raisin is my favorite.
So, what do locals do for fun around here?
D_Irish_Chik

A day later she received an e-mail back.

Come out with me Friday night and see for yourself.
Dirk
P.S. I added Oatmeal Raisin Cookies to the shop’s menu.

She smiled when she read the e-mail and the smile lingered. It was an infectious smile that spread from her, to the neighbor as she was walking her dog, also to the policeman making his rounds, and the gentleman leaving the corner store. Genevieve had that ability about her, to make others comfortable and happy in her presence. She never thought much of it, since she had it the entirety of her life, but those she met felt it. A warmth in their hearts that they carried away with them.
She had to reply to him. Dating custom demanded she wait a day, as he did. But it was already Wednesday, and she needed to find out where to meet, and what to wear. That would take two e-mails at least, so she didn’t look too eager. Calling up a friend back home she explained her dilemma. The early stages of dating are treacherous waters and one has to travel them with carefully, otherwise the possible relationship is lost before it’s even begun. While talking to her friend, she listed the positive qualities of Dirk first. Handsome, decent conversationalist, good body, polite, good hair, straight teeth, good skin tone. She heard her friend laugh on the other line. “Are you describing a man, or a dog at the Eukanuba show?”
“Emma, you know how important those things are, like for example, his good teeth show me that he doesn’t smoke. It’s vital to notice the little things in the beginning, that way you can make a sound decision.”
“Dang Giev, you are hanging out with a guy, not choosing a college to go to. Just dress casual in a way that makes you feel sexy, and go into it to have fun with no expectations. This probably isn’t your future husband. He is someone to hang out and get to know the area.”
“You are right.” Genevieve said.
“Of course I am.” Replied Emma, “Oh and if I were you, I’d wear my butterfly jeans, you look cute in those.”
“Thanks Em.”
Giving the new, wild Genevieve more room felt good. She was going to have no expectations, have fun, and meet new people.

H1ker
Where and when shall we meet.

The next day, the first errand she ran was to go to the library. She was avoiding the coffee shop, even though it had free wireless internet just in case he was working.
In the top of her Inbox was his reply.

At the coffee shop, around 5pm.
Bring comfortable shoes.

Painting her bathroom that day was a tedious task, because she kept thinking about tomorrow, and what things he had planned for her. Back in Michigan people didn’t usually get together until 8 or so, long enough after work, when the clubs opened. She wondered what he could have planned for 5 in the afternoon.
Friday broke bright and clear. She unpacked boxes, called about applications sent to local colleges inquiring if they needed an Admissions Counselor, or Financial Aid Advisor. Both of which she was qualified to do. Three o’clock she took her dog for a walk, preoccupied about what 5 o’clock hour would bring her. When she got home, she took a shower, dressed nice but comfortable, dug out her old running shoes from the unpacked storage boxes. At ten to five she was standing in front of the coffee shop. She didn’t have long wait. In a minute or two, Dirk came out.
He smiled at her, and without a word, took her hand and they walked down the street. She was bustling with questions, where were they going, what was the plan, random questions about him. He was oddly silent, and in a rush it seemed. But she was taken back by the fact that he hadn’t spoken yet, so she simply followed behind him.
Stopping at an intersection, waiting to an approaching produce truck to pass, he looked down and said, “Nice shoes.”
“What?” was all she could manage before he stepped out again. What was that? He didn’t greet her! He didn’t say anything except, ‘nice shoes’! Who is this guy? Genevieve’s mind was trying to figure this out. Was he being sarcastic was he being sincere, and what is the big damn rush?
They walked to the edge of town, probably about a half mile from the coffee shop. Then they started walking toward cornfields, with a small creek running through the back of it. He stepped into the cornfield. She hesitated, every horror film she ever saw came bubbling up in her mind. He turned to her and said, “Follow me” His eyes sparkled like a little boy who found a great treasure. She took a tentative step forward and he placed her arm protectively in the crook of his, saying, “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” He held her hand that way through the whole corn field, even though it meant him having to walk sideways. Genevieve’s heart warmed a little.
Once they crossed the cornfield, they came to a river, it was more close to a stream. But for a city girl any running water was a river. They walked about a hundred paces upstream when Dirk stopped.
“Good, it’s still here.” Genevieve looked ahead, and there on a low flat rock was a tablecloth, two plastic cups a pitcher of Kool-Aid and two plates.
He turned to her and bowed. “Your table is ready Ma’dam.”
She laughed. He put some thought into this. She sat facing the water and he sat across from her. Then he reached into his backpack, and pulled out cheese, crackers, fresh fruit, yogurt, and Doritos. He smiled and said, “I love Doritos”.
She put some food on her plate and he poured the Kool-Aid. “Sorry we were rushing, but I just wanted to make sure a little raccoon didn’t think this was his.”
“No apology necessary, I would have been worried too.” She assured him, relaxing in the green shade of the tree with the stream singing pleasantly beside them.
“About your shoes. You know you can tell an awful lot from a person about their shoes.”
“Oh really? I never knew.”
“Why yes! For example, your shoes are telling me that you are an active woman. You like to move around. They are not covered in mud or dirt, so mainly indoors. They are not hiking boots, so you do not do a lot of hiking. So that makes you a sports girl. He looked at the sole of her shoe and said, you are not a runner. He looked at her face and said, you don’t have that mean basketball look about you, so I’d say, Hmmmm, Soccer.”
“Wow,” Genevieve responded, amazed that so much could be deduced from an old pair of shoes. “Close,” she said, “I did softball in college, and I also played volleyball in high school along with tennis.”
“I was in the glee club in college.” Dirk said.
“You were!? I’m surprised.” Genevieve said.
“Well my dad was in the glee club in college and that was how he met my mom, so he insisted that I do the same.” Dirk explained.
“No, it’s not that. I was surprised you went to college.” Genevieve said. She had worked Higher Ed. Administration for close to five years now, and she thought that she could tell a person’s education by how they acted. Usually she was right.
“What? You don’t think I’m good enough for college? Dirk said, feigning hurt.
Genevieve not wanting to insult her host, quickly said. “No, it’s just that you don’t seem the college type. How did you end up working in a coffee shop?” She asked, unable to see the connection between a college degree, and a ‘get by’ job like a coffee shop.
“Can’t do much around here with a bachelors in Forensic Science. And since I don’t want to live in a big city, a coffee shop pays the bills and keeps me here.” He said simply.
After a confused moments pause Genevieve asked, “Where?”
“Right here.”
He looked at her, she was still confused, here wasn’t anywhere. Then he said,
“Close your eyes, just relax. Now listen to that. Do you hear it? The birds singing, the water moving, the wind in the trees. Sometimes, if you come here at the right time, you can hear the mountains themselves singing their deep ancient song.”
Genevieve’s eyes were closed, she heard everything he said, she listened to the sounds around her, and for an indefinable moment, she felt it. Really truly felt the peace, and the space, and the majesty of it. Her breath caught, and she felt held weightless by the moment.
Letting out a sigh, like waking from the best sleep ever. She looked over at him. He smiled back at her. He knew that she felt it too. They ate in silence for a while, each enjoying the beauty around them. Once they were both full, Dirk put the rest of the food in his backpack, and stood up. Genevieve wondered what was next. He looked down at her shoes and asked. “How long have you had those?”
“About a year.” She replied.
“In Colorado, it would be unacceptable for you to have shoes that long and have them that clean still. Come on, let’s get a little mud on those.”
She smiled. She had done more hiking than this guy expected, so he was in for a surprise. She was ready to show him that Michigan girls can handle their own on the hills.
The walked by the stream, crossed over a fallen log, and up into the foothills near the little town.
While walking, Genevieve made conversation. “So what school did you go to?” She asked.
“I went to a local community college for two years, then finished up at University of Colorado in Boulder.”
“How did you end up with a forensic science degree? It seems pretty specialized.” She asked. Once an Admissions counselor, always an admissions counselor. She couldn’t help but find out all there is to know about how people got their education and why they chose what they did.
“Well I thought I wanted to go into Criminal Justice, but when I got the U of C Boulder, I took one forensic science class, and I loved it. The professor was great, so I took more classes, and more, until before I knew it, I graduated. That’s when I realized that only big cities, like DC, or Denver, or LA really have a market for those, so I moved back home, and there you have it.”
“How long have you been home for?” She asked.
“About nine months.” He replied.
She didn’t ask more questions after that, they were climbing up a steep slope, and she needed to put all her breath into climbing.
They got to a clearing near the top and Dirk turned to her and said, “Here we are!”
Again Genevieve asked, “Where.”
This is the perfect spot to watch the sunset. I found it when I was 12 years old, and come out here every chance I can get.
She looked out over the valley, then at the sun, nowhere near the horizon. “Umm, it’s like two hours until sunset.” She said.
“I know,” Dirk replied, “The only problem with the most perfect spot to watch the sunset means it is the darkest way back to town, and I forgot a flashlight.” He grinned in apology, and she laughed.
“That is exactly something I would do.” She said. Then she sat on the grass, to take in the view. He sat beside her, their shoulders touching. She could smell his cologne. It smelled good. She needed to add that to her list of good things.
Looking out, she felt the softness of him breathing beside her. Then his voice said, “Now you know about me but, I still don’t even know your name.”
She smiled a coy smile at him, and said. “It adds to the mystery. It’s like an old time movies when this beautiful unknown woman walks into the room. Every head turns. She goes up to a man like she knows him, but the man has never seen her before. And by the end of the night, she is in his arms, kissing passionately beneath the light of a full moon. Then the next morning she disappears without a trace. And the guy always wonders, was that real?”
He looked at her. His eyes full of something she couldn’t quite make out.
“Sorry, I get carried away sometimes.” She smiled.
“I like it”, he said. He moved his arm behind hers and she rested her head softly on his shoulder. She didn’t know how much time passed before she felt a finger on her chin. She lifted her head, right into his waiting lips.
It was a soft kiss, but full. Genevieve felt drawn into it. Wanting more. She put her hand on his strong chest and turned toward him a little bit more. The kiss lengthened. Finally she pulled away. He looked at her, his soul in his eyes, and she smiled back at him. A soft, perfect smile, after a wonderful kiss. They sat there a moment longer. The only thing that would have made the moment more perfect was if it was at sunset. She thought.
On the way back he asked if she wanted to stop by his house and meet his dog. She knew what that meant, back home it meant a guy would try to go as far as the girl would let him, and then push further until he pushed the girl away, disgusted. Too many a budding romance was smothered by a guy too eager. She said no.
After she went home and e-mailed Emma. She needed another girl to sift through the events of the night and help her figure it out. The start of the date was so odd, and for the majority of the date, he treated her like a good friend, except for sitting in the sunset clearing, and the kiss, of course. While waiting the customary day before contact again with Dirk, she e-mailed Emma like crazy reviewing the date. Emma’s biggest question was if Genevieve felt anything with that kiss. Genevieve could not bring herself to admit yes.
A day passed, she checked her e-mail. Nothing. Then two days, still nothing. She thought that she was starting to like this guy, but he wasn’t contacting her, so maybe he didn’t like her, maybe he didn’t feel anything with the kiss. She never considered that she might be a bad kisser before. Three days, no word, she puzzled. She went to the coffee shop in hopes of seeing him, but he wasn’t there. She asked the girl behind the counter, she said he hadn’t been around for the last few days. Where was he? What happened?
Determined not to hang her hopes on one guy and get dashed, even if he was a good kisser. Genevieve decided to join an online dating service that connects local people. Within the first day she had four guys messaging her that she was pretty, interesting, and that they should hang out sometime.
It felt good to have that many people after her. She took her time looking over the guys, like a food critic does the menu. One guy was not worth her time, five years older with three kids, no thank you. Two she might keep talking to. They did not finish college, but the one had a beautiful picture, and the other had an interesting description, so she’d message them back a couple of times to feel it out. One seemed pretty compatible, so she talked with him the most. Every day since his first message they e-mailed back and forth. He was witty, he knew how to communicate well, and he appeared good looking from his picture.
It had been close to a week since her date with Dirk, and she still had not seen him at the coffee shop, or received an e-mail from him. Sure she felt like she was being mean to Dirk by looking for other guys, but if Dirk wasn’t going to contact her, then what other choice did she have?
She agreed to meet online dating potential guy at a local bar that Saturday. She’d met guys in bars before. She knew she could handle herself. If things get out of hand, then she just goes to the bathroom, and makes a smooth exit. She’d done it before, and she can do it now. While walking to the bar, she laughed, thinking Emma would think her crazy to de devising exit strategies before she even met the guy.
She walked in, ordered a Rum and Coke and waited. It was definitely the smallest bar she’d ever been in. It had a corner of the floor set aside for dancing and there was a Karaoke machine beside it. The bar ran the length of the one wall, with stools, video poker games and dirty glasses running the length of it. The rest of the bar had tables and booths disappearing into the dim, smoky back of the place. She was sure somewhere near the back door was the restrooms. Her backup plan if things went bad.
She waited about ten minutes watching the basketball game on the oversized TVs sitting behind the bar next to the many bottles of alcohol sitting on stepped shelves in various stages of fullness. Medicine bottles for the infirm of the establishment. It wasn’t too long that a man looking like someone five years older than the profile picture walked in. He looked around, saw Genevieve and smiled, then took a seat next to her. He looked at her drink and ordered a Bud.
He did cheat a little on his profile picture, he has more of a beer belly, and his hair is thinning a little bit more, but she won’t hold that against him. She decided, mentally keeping track. Once the awkward preliminaries were done with and they got into real conversation, Genevieve was impressed. She wasn’t aware that it was her inviting comfortable presence that drew this man in and made him interesting. She found his conversation enjoyable, like talking with one of her old professors. He had good ideas and opinions on life. But she wasn’t attracted to him in the least. Every time he took a drink of his beer and looked over at her making some comment about how her hair looks good, or her eyes are beautiful, she’d redirect the conversation away from her, and back into more neutral waters.
After two rum and cokes, Genevieve had to go to the bathroom, so she excused herself, and slipped away. Lightly touching his shoulder. She knew the tricks that would keep him interested, but not promise too much.
While walking out of the women’s restroom, she looked straight into the face of Dirk, who was exiting the men’s. She stopped short, and her blood ran cold for an instant. What was he doing here? Where had he been? How was she going to explain being here with another guy? Could she hide it? Why didn’t he call her? So many questions ran through her head along with a rising feeling of panic.
“Hello.” He said though glassy, yet steady eyes.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” She asked.
“Drinking, isn’t that what you do in bars?”
“Yes, but, why didn’t you call me or anything?”
“Sorry, I’ve been busy lately.” a tense reply. Something was clearly bothering him, eating at him. She could see it even though he tried to hide it.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, truly concerned.
“Nothing.” Was his reply. He was buckling under the weight of this unseen load, and Genevieve genuinely wanted to help.
“No, seriously something is wrong, why don’t you tell me?
“It’s not your problem. You are here with Rick, go back to him.” There goes her plans to keep her date a secret.
“How long have you been here?”
“Since about three this afternoon.” He replied.
This was not normal for him. From what Genevieve knew of Dirk, he was not the kind of guy to go into bars, much less drink his sorrows away.
“Where are you sitting?” She asked, putting her arm around him and leading him back to his seat. Maybe there he would finally tell her why he’s acting so strange.
Sitting, he just kept shaking his head and taking another drink until his beer was gone. Then he would look at his empty glass. Genevieve tried to order water, but the waitress didn’t walk by. In ten minutes all she got out of him was something about his brother. Continually looking back to her date, who was confusedly looking around for her. She finally had to leave Dirk for her own date. Dirk assured her he was fine, then tried again to drink his empty drink.
Genevieve’s heart went out to him, but what could she do if he wouldn’t tell her anything. She went back to her date.
“I was afraid you got lost.” He joked as she sat back down. She noticed there was a fresh rum and coke sitting in front of her. Smiling sweetly, she made up some lie that sufficed for her delay.
Continuing the conversation, Genevieve continually looked back to the dark corner where Dirk was sitting, slumping over the table. After about a half hour, her date noticed this flitting eye movement, and questioned it.
“Oh, it’s just a friend I know.” She said.
“Do you want to say ‘Hi’? I thought you were new in town.” He asked.
“I am new in town, I met ‘em in the coffee shop about a week ago.” She said, careful to be gender neutral. Guys get weird if they know a girl knows, or is friends with another guy.
Another half hour passed with Genevieve sneaking glances back at Dirk, and carrying on half conversations with her date. Then they heard a loud crash. Dirk tried to stand up and had fallen, taking the chair down with him. The entire bar quieted for a moment, then returned to its usual noise. A waitress walked slowly up to Dirk. Genevieve could not hold back any longer. Making a quick apology, she said. “I’m sorry I need to check on my friend.” She got up and quickly walked to Dirk. Helping him sit up, the waitress looked at her with concern in her eyes.
“It’s OK,” Genevieve assured her, “I’ll take him home.” She got on her knees, and helped Dirk sit up. Right then Genevieve’s date, Rick walked up.
“This is your friend?” He demanded, angry.
“Yes,” Genevieve said, straining to convince a limp drunk man stand up. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I have to make sure he gets home safe.”
Without another word, Rick turned around, and left. Genevieve would have wondered about his strange behavior if she wasn’t so preoccupied with Dirk. She finally got him to his feet. The waitress offered to get him water, but Genevieve refused, saying she just needed to get him home.
In the parking lot, Dirk pulled out his keys assuring her he was ok to drive. She took his keys, and hit the unlock button to find his car. Putting him in the passenger seat where he quickly slumped over into semi sleep, she looked though the car trying to find an address of where he lives. Finally finding a letter, she drove him to his house. The whole time wondering what in the world she was doing. She barely knows this guy, he is beyond drunk. Why is she working so had to make sure he’s ok. She couldn’t answer that, but pulled in his driveway, helped him inside, met his dog, a big golden lab with the name “Mutt” on the tag. She let the dog out in the backyard, while she got a big glass of water for Dirk. The sat in the kitchen of his two bedroom ranch home, while she made sure he finished his water. When it started getting low, she’d fill it again, and remind him he had to drink the whole thing.
When she was convinced he was thoroughly hydrated, she walked him down the hall, took off his shoes, and put him in bed. Just as he was relaxing, he reached out and took her hand. She looked down at him, and he pleaded, “Please do not leave me alone tonight.”
Torn, she hesitated for a minute. Temptation sang a sweet song. Then shaking her head, she put the trash can by the bed and left, thinking of all they talked about sitting at the table.
The next morning she woke up to her doorbell ringing. Opening the door in her bathrobe, she saw a delivery boy with flowers. There were carnations, and sunflowers, daisies and irises. It was a beautiful arrangement. The boy handed them to her after confirming her name, then wished her a good day.
She carried them into her kitchen, set them on the table and read the tag.
-A thousand pardons for my behavior as of late. I assure you that is not how I normally act. Is there any way that I might restore myself in your beautiful eyes? -Dirk.

She sat, puzzling about so many things.
Finally she stood, got dressed, and went to the coffee shop. He was there, looking like he got run over by a Mack truck. She got her coffee, and her Oatmeal Raisin Cookie. Then she handed him a note as she paid.

-Dinner Thursday night, your treat for last night. Tell your brother and his fiancé that I am praying for him and hope he gets out of the hospital soon.
-Genevieve

When she got home she had a message on her answering machine from Catholic Social Services, where she applied to about ten days ago.
She called back. What sounded like a thirteen year old girl answered and put her on hold while she waited for the boss. Then Genevieve heard an older distinguished woman’s voice come on the line. She made arrangements to interview tomorrow at two o’clock.
Excited, Genevieve spent the next two hours unpacking more bags so she could find her nice clothes to interview in. When she walked her dog that day, she saw a fire truck down at the end of the other block, but thought nothing of it.
Genevieve showed up fifteen minutes early for the interview, as the rules dictated. They were not ready for her. She sat in the outer office, with the other clients. She slyly looked around, without adding attention to herself. There was a man, downtrodden, staring at the wall. There was a lady reading a pamphlet about Alcoholic Anonymous, while what seemed like her sister sat next to her with her arm resting lovingly on her arm. A black man walked in after her, with twitching hands. After a few minutes they moved her to a different room to wait. Then finally a silver haired, overweight woman with a gracious smile and grace welcomed her into her office.
The interview went well. They weren’t so picky about all the qualifications, internships, and experience that an urban counseling center wants. At the end of it, the lady explained that one of her girls was going on maternity leave, and she needed a temporary replacement. But the job could possibly become permanent.
Walking out, Genevieve felt confident that after they see her work ethic and how well she does with the patients, they will offer her a permanent position in no time. Her orientation was Friday.
Her first major client’s name was Ellen. She had a tough life. She hinted at abuses that she sustained as a child, but was not ready to talk about them. Genevieve assured Ellen that when she was ready, this was a safe place to discuss it. Now Ellen was rushing a wedding that Genevieve strongly thought should wait. The man did not seem right for Ellen. He was loud, overbearing, drank too much, and was about five years older than 19 year old Ellen. Ellen had to lie to him about going to therapy, and when she suggested couples therapy, like Genevieve would have liked. He screamed at her, stopped his truck, and made her walk the last three miles home, while he drove away. Genevieve did not feel this was the best choice for Ellen, but she had to try and make Ellen see this on her own. Ellen’s case consumed most of Genevieve’s time both working and at home.
Dirk canceled his Thursday date with Genevieve he had to rush to Denver. He spent most his time there helping his brother.
Genevieve talked with Emma and her mom about Dirk. She still wasn’t sure what to do about it. Her mom said to be patient, if he is the right one, he’ll come around. Her mom still had a very idealistic view of love. Emma, on the other hand said to drop him. She reminded Genevieve that her last boyfriend didn’t have nearly this many issues and he wasn’t even good enough to be with her. Genevieve thought it was true. How many people that you first start getting interested in, you have to drive them home as they are drunk beyond belief? Or who doesn’t call you days after your first date? If he seriously wanted to get to know Genevieve and date her he was doing it a little unconventionally, if not completely ass-backwards.
After a lot of talks with friends, and lots of thinking on her dog walks. She met up with Dirk as he was getting out of work. It was his first day back from Denver. His skin was pale and there were bags under his eyes. He smiled at Genevieve when he saw her.
“Hey, how do you like my hospital tan?” he asked while rolling up his sleeve to reveal a paler arm than she remembered.
She asked him if he was busy and when he said, “No.” They walked toward the city park and chatted. She had a lot on her mind and didn’t know how to break it to him the easiest way possible. He could tell she had something important to say. There were no jokes on the way to the park, and as they sat on the swings, he didn’t say anything, allowing her to build up the courage she needed to say this.
“My grandmother met my grandfather at a spelling bee. That was the first time he noticed her. They went to the same church, and every week, he’d watch her, not the priest. In high school, she started noticing him, and by the time he had his Associate’s degree they were engaged. My mother and father met at a grocery store. She would time it so they always happened to be in together and talk. Then they started dating, within two years, they were married.”
She looked over at him, he looked back. He was starting to get the idea, but wanted to be sure.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying my mom didn’t have to clean up after my father when he was drunk, and my grandmother never had to sit around for days wondering why he didn’t call after the last date.” She said. The words were hard to say, because deep down, she still really liked him, but he broke too many of the rules. He was a loose cannon, like Emma said, and would only hurt her.
Now it was Dirk’s turn to talk.

Late that night, Emma got a phone call. “How did it go?” was the first question. She heard the hesitant voice on the other end say, “Well, I stood firm, but he was very articulate. We decided we are going to give it a try.”
“What! You two are dating!?! What happened to our plan?” screeched the voice on the other end.
Genevieve spoke rationally, “He convinced me to give him two weeks. If I still feel the same, I can break it off and never talk to him again.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Although there was much that Emma wanted to say, she knew there was a fine line between concerned friend and belligerent mother. So Emma swallowed her words. For some reason or another, this guy was different to Genevieve, and she was going to support her, as a friend in whatever she wanted to do.
“Emma? You got quiet all of a sudden, what happened.”
“Huh, or sorry, the cat jumped off the chair and knocked the phone on the couch. I’m back.”
The conversation continued, shifting from Dirk, to Genevieve’s new job, complete with its new set of trials, and a breathtaking view of the mountains from her office window.
When Genevieve arrived at home the next day, she found a box on her doorstep. Inside was a movie that was recently released, and a bag of microwave popcorn, with a note that said, “Busy tonight?” She laughed. At eight o’clock, she knocked on Dirk’s door with the box in hand. She watched the movie while resting her head on his chest, and he softly stroked her hair. After the movie, they talked about when they were kids, about their grand plans as kids, and how they changed as adults. Around midnight, after many kisses, Genevieve left with memories of childhood dreams mixed with soft kisses hung around her like a sweet mist. And knowing the perfect spot to rest her head against him, so she could hear his heartbeat, and he could dip his head forward just a bit a plant a kiss in the tangles of her hair.
After the fifth date, Genevieve decided that she needed to do something for Dirk. She thought back to how guys in her past did special things for her. The vast majority of them just took her out to dinner, how predictable. Dirk has gone above and beyond what any of those guys before could do.
That Saturday, she invited him over for dinner. She was going to make her mom’s Shepherd’s Pie. He showed up with Rice Crispy Treats for dessert. They listened to jazz music while she cooked and twice he took her hand and they danced in the kitchen, with potatoes boiling merrily in the pot, and the oven humming contently in the background.
After dinner, they walked to the edge of town, and laid on the side of a hill, watching the stars. Lying next to him, feeling the warmth of his skin radiating though his shirt, smelling his cologne as it mixed ever so gently with the scent of the dew and the sea of grass around them, Genevieve formed a thought that had been sitting nameless in her head for quite some time.
I think I’m in love with him.

She didn’t say those words to him until a month later. Long after their trial relationship was finished and the real one was well underway. It was over the board game “Life” that Genevieve had won by becoming a millionaire. The spaghetti and wine from dinner filled her belly and a plate of Oatmeal Raisin Cookies sat on the counter, patiently waiting for the end of the game. Dirk kissed the hand of the victor. They sat looking at each other for a long time, then she leaned in and whispered softly three words.
Before she knew it, she was swept up to her feet, and captured in an embrace so tight, so complete, she never wanted to be released from it. He spoke into her hair, which smelled of Raspberries, like the day they first met. “I’ve loved you for so long, even the moment I met you, I knew something. There was something special about you. It’s such a relief to say the words I’ve known for so long… I love you.”
Then the perfect embrace shifted to include the perfect kiss too.