This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Kim flipped her cell phone open and closed while she stared out the bedroom window. Her soft unexpressive face did not mirror the mess in her mind. She felt like crying, but her tears were too heavy to well up and spill out. Kim rubbed her stomach in a motion that seemed incomplete without the accompaniment of patting her head at the same time, like when she was younger. She didn’t feel like a child anymore. Her face grimaced.

The black lacey thong panties that she wore felt snug around her belly. When she looked down and pulled them away from her skin, the lines that they left made her feel disgusted. It was a few weeks since she last bothered to trim her pubic hair and when she readjusted her underwear, wiry little brown hairs pushed through the tiny gaps in the fabric. Kim stepped down from her bed and pulled her bathrobe closed. After taking a step forward she plopped back on the bed and flipped the phone open. She held down the number one and the phone went through the motions of dialing. She felt nauseated.

Kim pulled the phone from her ear to see if it was working. The connection in the room she rented was spotty at best. Patience could not be called her strong suit and the digital screen mocked her with its continuous flashing of Dialing Michael’s Cell. She began to get frustrated, wondering if he just wasn’t answering or if her phone wasn’t working.

“Hello, Kim?”

Even though she had heard Michael’s voice hundreds of times before, it caught her off guard when it came through the phone without warning. Michael and she had talked on and off after their break up, two years earlier, but most of the conversations they attempted to have were highly-dysfunctional-post-bad-break-up-calls, which included a lot of drunk dialing and often ended in an incoherent tirade and hanging up. For some reason that overwhelming feeling they had at the beginning of those calls, the feeling that they were soul mates and should be together forever, was short lived, especially if either of them mentioned the name of someone of the opposite sex in any context. Neither of them had any right to be jealous, but they acted erratic anyway, claiming all their juvenile bickering was an act of love.

Kim felt she really did still love Michael and knew that he might be the only person that could help. If he couldn’t help, there wasn’t anyone she wanted to be in her situation with other than him. She knew he had his battles, but he always did his best to take care of her.

The nostalgia paralyzed her. She heard Michael talking to someone in the background.

“Hey, Kim, you okay? Is this phone working?”

There was something comforting to Kim any time she heard worry in Michael’s voice when he called her name. An overwhelming sense of urgency took over her.

“Michael, do you have a minute? Please? It’s a matter of life or death. Seriously.”

She let everything out and took the chance that he wouldn’t mock her. She had called him on many occasions and knew she could gain some control over his emotions by cranking up the vulnerability. She knew he wanted to be her savior, but to her everything was life or death. If he wasn’t with someone it wouldn’t take much convincing for him to help her. Even if he was with someone, she knew how he still felt about her.

“Kim, what’s going on?”

Kim could hear the not-this-again inflection in Michael’s voice.

“Tell me first, do you have a few minutes?” Kim asked.

She held the phone from her face and looked at the time, then put it back up to her ear. She could hear a female talking in the background. A twinge of jealousy attacked her brain. She composed herself when she remembered that she needed him now. She really hoped he wouldn’t judge what she had done. She sat up straight and looked out the window. The sun began to set.

“Kim, I’m wrapping up here at work, can this wait? Can I call you back?”

Kim started to sob. Her phone buzzed. She looked at it. She could hear Michael faintly through the speaker calling her name. The screen flashed wildly in her confused eyes, Incoming call Colin’s Cell phone. One tap of a button and Colin’s call was sent to voicemail. Quickly, she returned the phone to her face.

“Sorry, Baby… I mean, Mikey. Sorry. Things are a mess right now. I need your help. If I don’t get out of here I am going to die” Kim said.

She knew Mike was probably shaking his head.

The phone buzzed her ear again, but she didn’t even need to look at it.

“Something wrong with your phone? Who’s trying to call you? What’s going on?” Michael asked.

“Oh, nothing. Just an alarm going off. Please hurry, Mike. I’m in big trouble.”

Kim knew if she used the word “trouble” that Michael would know she was really in a predicament. She was stubborn and rarely admitted when she felt weak or needed help and she knew it drove Michael nuts.

“Okay. Okay. Can you stop crying, please? I’ll call you back really soon. By the way, Kimmy?”

“Yes, Mikey?”

“Where are you now?”

“Phoenix.”

The phone went silent for a few seconds.

“You coming back to LA?” Mike asked.

“I want to. I need your help. Please call me back soon.”

“Cool. I’ll hit you up in a few. Don’t do anything stupid. I know that is a lot to ask. Just playing.” Mike said.

She managed to laugh a little. This was the good that she missed in their relationship. Fleeting moments when she thought things might be ok.

“Bye, Mike.”

“Bye.”

Mike didn’t say anything else and hung up. Kim couldn’t tell if he sounded worried or annoyed. This made her fret because she really needed his help. She didn’t have any close friends in Phoenix. The only people she knew were the guys and girls she would party with. She finally realized that these weren’t friends just people that she could use for drugs and alcohol and people that she now realized wanted her for the same exchanges. It made her sick to her stomach to think about how many guys she had been with. She knew Mike might ask, but didn’t know what she would say if he did.

Kim stood in front of the mirror hanging on her closet door. She knew she had to eat something, but by consuming food she would be feeding something that she was trying to starve. She looked at the sad faced girl in the mirror staring indifferently back at her and wondered if there might be any redemption for her in this world.

She remembered being at a club the night before with Tim, Colin’s deejay friend. They were doing rails in the bathroom and she had agreed to go down on Tim for a little baggy to take home. The last thing she recalled was Tim, running out of the bathroom. She must’ve not gotten the coke she thought or else she would’ve been up all night and able to recall how she got home. She opened her robe and pushed against the ribs that protruded out just above her slightly rounded tummy. This was the end and she knew it. Kim was the girl always known for her perfect butt and strong thighs, and now she looked like a holocaust victim. That is all she could think of. Her dyed-brown hair, which was usually dyed platinum blond, made her appear even ghastlier. The thought of suicide popped into her mind. She already felt dead. Kim let herself plop into the unmade bed and closed her eyes. Her eyes were tired.

Kim’s body jerked when the phone in her hand started to buzz. She dozed off for only a few minutes. When she sat up her skin and insides felt tired and heavy. She could feel her whole body hanging on her pelvis. She scooted up against the wall and flipped open the phone.

“Michael?” Kim said.

“Yes, Mike. Who the heck do you think it is?” Mike said.

What Kim perceived as anger in Michael’s voice made her reconsider what she wanted to ask him.

“You going to be a dick?” She asked.

“You going to be a bitch?”

“Mike, please I am being dead serious. I am in a lot of trouble and I need help. If I don’t get out of Phoenix now, I’ll be dead soon.”

“Tell me; what the hell are you talking about?” Mike asked.

Kim started to sob. She sputtered and squelched words out, but none of it made any sense.

“Kim, if you don’t stop fucking crying, how can I help you?”

“Stop yelling at me, please!” Kim said.

Someone knocked on the bedroom door. Kim sat up quick, ignoring all the discomfort in her body. She stopped crying instantly.

“Hello, who is it? Kim Said.

“Kim, what’s going on in there?” Samantha, her roommate said.

“Nothing. Just watching a sad movie.”

The first lie out of Kim’s mouth was usually a lot more precise than the falsehood she spat out. It almost made her laugh. Through the phone she could her Mike screaming angrily.

“We’re headed out again in about an hour, if you want to go.” Samantha said.

“Sam, I think I am going to pass. My stomach is pretty messed up.” Kim said.

“Whatever’s clever.”

When Kim could no longer hear Sam’s retreating footsteps, she uncovered the phone.

“Mike, you there? I can’t hear you. Mike?”

Kim feigned a bad reception.

“Yes, I am here. Can you please tell me what the heck is going on? I’ve got places to be.” Mike said.
When Kim heard this she bit her tongue. She stopped just short of asking Mike what was so important. She thought that he might just be saying that to get her dander up. She composed herself.

“Mike, I need to get out of Phoenix as soon as possible. I don’t have any friends, no money. I blew it all on drugs and partying. And… And… I’m pregnant.

She waited for Mike to hang up the phone or start calling her names. She recalled back to the times where she and Mike use to sit around and talk about starting a family. They even named their kids. Mike wanted a boy first, then a girl. She thought it was sweet how he already picked the little girl’s name. She loved Mike more than anything, she thought.

“I am broke right now, but give me a minute to think. This is a lot. How far along are you?” Mike said.

“Mike, will you please not be mad at me?”

“Kim, I am past being mad at you. I just want to help. I need you to be honest with me, please?”

She could hear Mike light a cigarette and take a puff.

“Still smoking, huh?”

“Thanks to you.” Mike said.

“Mike, I need to come to California to get an abortion. I’m five months along. I have 3 weeks to get this done. I called a clinic near you and they will take me next week.”

“Who’s the father?”

“Not sure.”

“What do you mean not sure?”

“The last guy I was with I haven’t talked to in a month. He doesn’t know I’m pregnant. He was a piece of shit anyway and doesn’t deserve to know. Anyway, it might not even be his.”

Kim could hear Mike breathing heavy. She wondered if she divulged too much information. Mike stuttered and began to speak again.

“I’m not sure what to do. Can you get a ride or borrow money, or something?”

Kim started to cry again.

“You don’t understand. I don’t have any options. None!”

Kim wanted to hang up, but she wanted to live more than she wanted to die. She didn’t think about the life inside her, and for the most part whatever lived within her barely moved at all anymore.

“Kim, I’m going to make a couple of calls. Sit tight. Trust me.”

“Hurry Mike, please. I feel like I’m going insane.”

“Going? Try gone.”

“Whatever.”

The light banter helped ease Kim’s nerves. For the first time in months she didn’t feel alone. She stood up and took her robe off. A broken sliver of a smile turned the sad tundra of her expressionless face into the reflection of a modern day Mona Lisa in the mirror. She slipped her panties down her boney hips and slid them down around her thighs. Once the small piece of fabric passed her knees, it plummeted to the ground at her dainty feet. She held the phone to her ear waiting for Mike to say anything.

“Mike? You there?”

Kim ran her hand across her chest. Her face wrinkled in the mirror as she rubbed her palm on her erect nipples, which felt super-sensitive. She remembered back three months before when she realized the familiar pain wasn’t going to leave this time around.

“I’ll get back to you soon. It might not be until tomorrow morning,” Mike said.

Kim wanted to protest his response. She wanted out of her current situation at that very moment, but she knew that this was the end of the line for help.

“Cool. Thanks, Mike. Really, I will never be able to repay you.”

She wanted to tell him, I love you, but didn’t dare go down that road. She realized that from this point forward could be a whole new era in their relationship.

“Get some rest, k?” Mike said.

Mike’s end of the line went silent and Kim closed her phone. She rubbed her hand across her pubic area and decided she needed to shower. She hoped to wash away some of the filthiness she felt. She didn’t know if the mire was on the outside or on the inside as she wrapped her frail body in a towel and headed into the bathroom. The phone rang. Kim didn’t know what to do as the phone’s screen flashed “Unknown Number.” She opened it.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Kimmy? Kimmy? Are you there?” The lady’s voice said on the other end.

Kim knew who it was, and it startled her. She started to cry.

“Mom.”

Kim fell to her knees in a bawling mass.

“Oh, Kimmy. My baby. What’s going on? Please tell me. Mikey, called me and…” Kim’s mother said.

Kim’s sadness turned to rage.

“Mikey, what? What the fuck did you say?”

“Baby, who cares, who called what. Are you ok? I have been so worried about you.”

“That asshole. What’d he say? That prick.”

Kim stood up and grabbed the robe from her bedpost and covered herself. She slammed down on the bed and got ready for a long battle of wits with her mom.

“Kim, listen. He called about five minutes ago, and all he said was that you called and you were in great danger. He told me he didn’t know what else to do. The last thing he told me was that if you love your daughter you will get her out of that hell she is living in. Then he hung up. That poor boy really cares about you. Listen Kimmy, I’m sorry about the argument we had last time we talked. You’re my baby. I just want you home safe. If you suffer. I suffer.”

Kim’s mom started to cry. So did Kim. Kim fought through sniffles and told her mom about her life over the last year, but she left out many parts that she would never share with Mike or anyone else for that matter. She couldn’t tell a soul about all the degrading things she did for drugs or a place to sleep. She finally told her mom that she was pregnant and didn’t want the child.

“I can’t even take care of myself,” Kim told her mom.

“Kim, I just want you home. I am on my way to get you. I’ll be there soon. I love you.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

They hung up. Kim scuffled back to take her shower, passing a person in the mirror who now had a little grin on her tear-stained face. Exhaustion and hunger attacked her from all sides. Her mind began to drift away swiftly to places she did not want to venture. She tested the water and remembered hearing from someone that you were not supposed to take a hot bath when you were pregnant. She added a little cold water to the scalding tub. She didn’t want anything weird to happen at least now that help was on its way.

Kim floated in the hot water and tried not to let her thoughts drift. She closed her eyes and dipped her whole head under the warm water. She held her breath and wondered what it would be like to drown. She thought of the thing growing in her stomach and realized that it too was floating in a cocoon of silent liquid just as she was doing at that moment. Could it have any clue of my thoughts, she wondered. This rumination made here buoy to the surface of the water. When her smooth fair skin hit the room temperature air, goose pimples appeared all over her. Her nipples stood straight up and she started to shiver. She needed rest soon.

Kim looked in the mirror and combed her hair. For the first time in weeks she had cleaned up without the intention of putting on makeup and tight fitting clothes to go out and party with her friends. The idea of never partying again made her feel empty, but she knew it was for the best. She thought about the new life she would be able to start after she took care of the business she needed to. This little bit of planning made her feel like she was climbing out of her own grave and pulling herself to solid ground. She wondered if she would be able to see Mike as she shaved her underarms and pubic area. It felt good to wash away the grime of what would soon be a past. Kim knew when her mom arrived that everything would be all right. She put a fresh pair of panties and a tank top on and climbed into bed. She dozed off quickly.

Fast asleep for the first time in months, Kim’s body convulsed under the thin white sheet that stuck to her body. Kim dreamt she was walking through a packed night club. She searched frantically for someone or something. The reflection of her body changed in every mirror, as faceless people pressed past her and strobe lights broke her body’s reflection into thousands of pieces. Before she could comprehend a transition she stood in a pitch black room. She felt something crawling on her chest, squirming and barking. A beam of light came out of nowhere from above, and she looked down and could see the face of a baby, but it wasn’t of a young child. The baby looked just like its father.

The little face opened its mouth exposing jagged teeth, and began laughing. It raised its hands and ripped the shirt Kim was wearing right down the middle of her chest. The cackling monster child took its sharp clawed hands and reached over and grabbed Kim’s breast and started to chew. Its soft baby arms began to bulge with adult muscles. Blood squirted everywhere. Kim screamed. She tried to push the baby away, but it stuck to her like glue. The harder she tried to pry the baby from her fingers, the further the child’s skin would stretch and then snap back hard against the palms of the hands.

A door opened in front of her and shadows of faceless men and women started moving at her. The shadows materialized into people Kim knew. She continued to pull the baby off, but it dug its claws in deeper. She sensed the baby wanted her heart as it dug through the puddles of torn up flesh that used to be her breast.

The people now flooded the room and Kim saw that they were all naked and aroused. The haunting group closed in on her and she could hear see their mouths moving. One of the people grabbed Kim’s head and pushed her mouth on his aroused organ. As she tried to scream, the dark fellow forced her mouth over the tip of his enormous and skinless member. She panicked and bit as hard as she could. When she came up she could see the figure begin to laugh. It grabbed the back of her head again. A shadow hand grabbed her backside. Another pulled at her hair.

The wicked baby in her arms had its hand through her side and held on to one of her ribs. It was about to pull it back and crack it when Kim heard knocking on the wall behind her. She turned and noticed the door she came through no longer existed. The knocking became louder and louder. With all her might, Kim pulled the baby by the head and twisted its neck. She kicked and punched at the sky. The darkness retreated and the scene became her old room at home. She moved toward the door. The knocking continued.

Kim rolled onto the ground and the thump woke her up. She frantically tried to untangle the sweaty sheets from her body. The clock flashed 3:30 am.

“Kim, Kim, are you in there? Kimmy?”

“Mom? Mommy? Come in. The door’s open.”

Kim’s mom surveyed the messy room. She stepped over dirty clothes, empty alcohol bottles, and puddles of small metal CO2 tubes.

Kim threw the sheet to the ground and hugged her mom.

“I want to leave before my roommate gets back. That bitch owes me two months’ rent. She can fend for herself.”

“Is your name on the lease?”

“Who cares?”

“Okay. Get your things.”

Kim ordered her mom to start carrying armloads of clothes out to the car. Clothing and shoes were the only possessions she could call her own. Both women hurriedly hauled stuff out of the closet and out to the car at the curb. In about 30 minutes Kim had all of what she wanted in her mother’s car and they were on the road.

On the way home, Kim reiterated to her mother what needed to be done.

“Mom, I need to travel to LA to get an abortion. They have a clinic that will do it this late, but I only have a few weeks.”

“Kim you sure this is what you want?”

“Mom, are you nuts? Of course. I am a mess. I know you want grandchildren, but this is not how I want to bring them into the world. Michael already said that he would pick me up at the train station and drive me to Aunt Patty’s house. He also said he would drop me off for the appointment the day before. The prep thing.”

“That poor, boy. He’s way too nice.”

“Too bad he is just too nice.” Kim said.

“Too nice? Is there such a thing?”

“You’re so old-fashioned. Be quiet a second. Let me call him.”

“Kimmy, it’s only 7 am.”

“Hush. He’ll answer.”

Kim dialed her phone and sat up in the seat. It rang once.

“Hello, Kim?”

“Mikey, whatcha doin’?

“Trying to sleep, duh! What are you doing? You at a club, spinnin’?”

“No, you jerk!”

Kim’s mom slapped her shoulder.

“I’m almost back to San Diego. My mom came and picked me up you prick. Thanks, asshole.”

“Tell your mom thanks, and that I am sorry for waking her. I’m glad you’re ok.”

“So, I will be on the train tomorrow morning. You’re still going to pick me up right? I should be in late afternoon.”

“Of course, I promised. Can I go back to sleep, please?”

“Ok, grumpy. I will call you tomorrow when I leave. By the way, I’ll have a new number. Please answer. The number will come up with an 858 area code.”

Kim hung up the phone and grabbed her mom‘s hand.

The following day Kim stepped off the train into the bright LA sun. She looked refreshed. Her mother took her to the mall the previous afternoon and bought her a couple of new outfits. Clothes her mother called, “more appropriate for a young lady.” Kim’s fair skin glowed against the tight, baby blue shirt she wore. The white sun skirt flowed around her legs as she danced down the stairs of the train car. The ticket taker tipped his hat in an old-fashioned way and welcomed her to Los Angeles with his southern accent. She smiled back over her shoulder and winked. She loved flirting. This never went over well with Michael though. He was extremely insecure and would always tell her, “I’m not going to fight for you. If you get some guy thinking you’re interested in him, he can have you. I’m not a fighter.” She knew deep down that he would protect her with everything he possessed if it came down to it. She just knew it.

Kim grabbed her red leather duffle bag and headed out of the station to find Michael’s car. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt good about where her life was headed. She knew that tomorrow’s deed, as she called it, probably wasn’t going to allow her a Go Directly to Heaven pass when the time came, but she knew if she stood at the gates and had to convince St. Peter that she belonged beyond the pearly gates, it wouldn’t be a problem. Anyway, she rarely found a guy who could resist her charm.

“Boo!”

Michael jumped out from behind a white pillar at the front of the station. Kim dropped her bag.
“You startled me, you ass!” Kim said.

She didn’t resist when Michael grabbed her by the waist and pulled her in for a tight hug. Her chest heaved with the passion that shot from the heat in his hand as he placed it on her butt and squeezed. She looked into his big brown eyes, and his long eyelashes seemed to transport her back in time.

Being the type of woman who always puts up a fight, even when attacked with friendly fire, Kim pushed her hands on Mike’s chest stopping the momentum of her face within inches of his.

“Whoa, Buster. Um… Where did this come from?”

“I was watching you across the way. I could see your hips through that dress when the sun hit it just right. I don’t know. It just feels natural.”

Kim agreed. She stood there letting Mike hold her in the sun, resting her head on his shoulder.
“Mike, small issue. My Aunt Patty isn’t going to be here, could I stay with you, please? My mom will be up in the morning to take me to the clinic.” “Sure. No problem.” Mike said.

For most of the day, after Kim’s doctor’s visit, the two sat on the patio and talked in the sun. Kim felt like time had rewound itself and stopped right before the moment in her and Mike’s relationship where all the stars fell out of the sky. They even held hands.

As night approached Mike fixed something light for them to eat. Then they changed into comfortable clothes and sat on the couch to watch a movie.

Kim was okay with Michael turning the lights out and bringing a blanket. She needed to be close to someone – someone who loved her. Kim rested her head in Michael’s lap. She could feel him grow through his loose cotton shorts. She didn’t even think about it as her hand started to rub him up and down. Michael opened his legs and Kim turned her head around and pulled out Mike’s hard penis and started to suck and pull on it. She could hear him moan. He pulsated violently in her mouth. She stopped for a second and looked up and laughed.

“Way better than before, huh?” Kim said.

“I don’t even want to know how much practice you got.” Mike said.

“Plenty.”

Kim could see the smile run off of Mike’s face. She felt a little shame. Something inside of her felt that this was payback for Mike sleeping with her best friend. Though she slept with at least three guys Mike knew. She dove back into what she started. Mike bucked back and forth and pulled on her hair.

“Kim, can we have sex, please?” Mike said.

“Sorry, can’t. Doctor said no sex within 24 hours of my procedure. Do you want me to finish or not?”
Mike didn’t say a word. He just sat back until Kim had swallowed him all the way into her throat and drank him dry. She sat back on her thighs and wiped her mouth.

“You owe me now!” Kim said.

“Owe you. How?” Mike replied.

“You can go down on me.”

“Maybe I can say hi while I’m down there.”

“Maybe it’ll come and poke your fucking eyes out.”

“That’s turning me on. More. More. Please.”

“Come on, Mikey. This might be the last time we ever do anything.”

Kim knew it would be.

“Don’t you think maybe we can talk about getting back together?” Mike said. He hesitated and waited for a response.

“Who knows? We can discuss us later.”

They moved into the bedroom and Mike went down on Kim until she let out a loud scream and fell back.

“Man, it’s been a long time since I did that sober.” Kim said.

“Oh, great. Thanks for that detail.”

Mike rolled over and grabbed the covers. Kim realized that what she thought was being playful might have crossed the line. She didn’t know why this evil persona came out and said the things it did. She rolled over and wrapped her arms around Mike.

“Sorry, Mike.”

“It’s ok. It’s my fault for having any expectations. Maybe one day I’ll learn. Let’s go to sleep. You need your rest.”

Kim wanted to say more, but knew that nothing she said would ever settle Mike’s insecurity. She loved him, but knew that after tomorrow they would probably never see each other again.

Morning came and Kim’s mom arrived bright and early to take her daughter to the hospital. Kim’s mom gave Mike a big hug and thanked him for everything he did to help out. Kim gave Michael a hug, then turned and got into the car. She waved as they pulled away from the curb. Michael held his hand up, but didn’t wave. She couldn’t read the expression on his face. Kim reached for the radio and turned it on. She didn’t feel bad for Michael at that moment, because something else much more important was about to happen.

“Let us try to teach generosity and altruism, because we are born selfish.”
Richard Dawkins

The rain continued into the afternoon. Sebastian and I sat in the van and shared our lunches. I bombarded him with hundreds of questions about his past, his accomplishments and the cultural dynamics of New Orleans, while we devoured some of the best BBQ I have ever eaten. For some reason I felt hesitant to get out of the van. I was really excited to start the bike building project, but something in me wanted to approach this event cautiously. I am really shy. A lot of people don’t know that about me. As I write this I am trying not to laugh. Am I really shy? I talk a lot to alleviate my social awkwardness. I ultimately strive to be a better listener and observer and I got my chance to do just that the second half of the day on Wednesday. Here was what I observed.

The day was dark and cloudy as our gang congregated in the concrete and brick alcove which was connected to the main school building. The members of our group all donned coordinating red, Hawaii Thrive t-shirts. Talking and giggling echoed off the walls while volunteers paced around patiently awaiting directions. I stood on the outside of the pack and all I could hear was the din of the crowd crashing all around me. I thought the students were out early for the day. Who else could be making all the noise, I thought. When I got closer I noticed that the brouhaha originated from a small clan of women who were patty-caking, laughing and talking at the top of their lungs. The camaraderie made me smile. The cacophony finally subsided when one of the school’s event coordinators signaled that it was time to build the bikes.

The Kaiser Permanente brigade was split into smaller detachments and each were assigned tasks. These duties ranged from opening the bike boxes to tightening the last screws and announcing that the bike was ready. I felt some disappointment when my unit received orders to take the bikes out of the boxes. I was a little upset because I wanted to build. Later on I found out that most of my group echoed the same sentiments. I worked diligently opening the boxes as I reminded myself that we were all necessary pieces of a much more complex puzzle. Each and every one of us was needed to achieve the bigger goal. All week long the group’s hard work and single-mindedness proved to be the driving forces needed to help our group complete complex duties in short timeframes.

To my group’s delight, within about 30 minutes, everyone was putting bikes together. The production line idea- each group performing one task and then passing it on- eventually turned into many separate units of hardworking volunteers fervently assembling bikes. Inside the school the principal was holding a special assembly to let the children know that they won the bikes which were being built.

Success Preparatory Academy is a special school. It is an institution which instills the importance of a college education into each one of its students from the moment they enter to obtain an education. Each child attends a classroom which is named after a college, and that is where the student is told they will attend college. Along with the university they will attend they are also given a graduation date. What an amazing concept. I really hoped these children succeed in life. As my dad always told my siblings and I, “They (the powers that be, I assumed) can take away everything else you have, but they can’t take away your education.” I am a student of life. I ask a ton of questions because I am a sponge for information. Every day life provides me with millions of things to learn.

Kaiser purchased the bikes as a gift to the school. Kaiser’s intentions were to promote wellness and environmental consciousness, by providing the bikes so that the children could ride them to school. In the beginning stages of the projects the coordinators thought it might be best to give the bikes to the kids who lived closest to the school. Eventually, the teachers chose children whose behaviors most aligned with the schools goals. I learned from quite a few the children, after the bikes were presented, that many of them did not live anywhere near the school. Many of the kids that did attend Success Prep were bused in from other areas.

The time came to present the bikes and someone announced that the children were coming to the bike area. Groups scrambled to complete the last few bikes which were left. Some of the bikes remained in boxes.

The event coordinators told the Kaiser folk to form a single-file line. When the time came the school administrators brought a child and their parent-if one was present-out to meet the volunteer. The newly formed groups meandered over and picked out a bike that was the correct size and a helmet for protection. Safety first! I hung back and watched it all unfold.

So many thoughts raced through my mind. Those contemplations were composed of a clash of my expectations and the reality which unfolded as the children received their bikes. In my head I envisioned scenes of the children running out of the assembly holding their parents’ hands while they screamed at the tops of their lungs, “I want my bike.” My fantasy was so far from the real scene I watched from a distance. Most of what I witnessed were parents leading shy students out by the hand, greeting the volunteer and then with a lot of small talk and awkward conversation, they all eventually made it over to pick a bike. The expressions on the children’s faces ranged from smiles to sullen looks. I really thought what we were doing was awesome, but somehow it made me feel a little sad. I felt distant and detached. I thought about how the city needed so much more than we as a group could give it.

When I finally stepped into the dwindling line, I stood behind another volunteer who told me they didn’t feel comfortable with what was going on. When I asked them why they didn’t like what was going on they told me that the whole event felt like a sort of exploitation. I was taken aback. I tried to tell the upset volunteer how I felt, but they refused to listen. At the time I don’t think I could gather a fitting rebuttal anyway. I was taking in the whole situation myself. I felt bad because some of the children looked overwhelmed by our presence.I didn’t want them to be uncomfortable, but never did the idea of exploitation enter my mind. I later witnessed that same volunteer talking and laughing with a child. Children have a way of bringing out the best in all of us.

After the event as I talked to other volunteers I think that everyone possessed mixed feelings about how the event went down, but almost everyone thought is was an awesome thing to do. I totally Agreed. I don’t think we exploited the children at all, but I do want to say that I wanted to understand their lives better than I was able to in the short timeframe we were given.

By the time I made it to the front of the line, there were no more kids to be matched up with. I was somewhat relieved. Most of my friends know that I love kids, so they might think that my previous statement was strange, but you just needed to be there.

I meandered over to a group of kids who I noticed were sitting in a corner. From another volunteer I learned that these were the students whose parents didn’t show up. This compounded my sadness, but I have no idea why the parents didn’t make it and that was all right. My parents always showed up for my events, so I think a lot of my anguish came from my sympathy for the children who didn’t have anyone to share this occasion with. Maybe that was how it was in their household. I don’t know.

I sat down next to a proud looking young lady, with big eyes, and made small talk. She opened up to me and I found out her name was Kayla. She was smart as a whip. Her favorite subject was math. I eventually took her over to pick a bike. She did not show much emotion, but every once in awhile a small smile crept from her lips when I when I made a joke or we talked about Trayvon. Kayla told me Trayvon was her best friend. By the way she talked about him though, I knew she liked him. The summoning of the name alone brought an embarrassed smile to her face. Eventually, we picked a bike, took some pictures and Kayla went outside with the other children to test ride her bike and learn some basic safety. Kayla seemed to have a handle on her bike so I took my eye off of her to watch the magic of neon-green, shirted children pedaling furiously around the playground on their bikes.

While I stood there watching the children cruise around the schoolyard, Karen B., came over to me and asked me if I would teach the child she was helping, Reginald, how to ride his bike. Reginald might’ve been the only kid on the playground who couldn’t ride a bike. I took the boy and guided him around in circles and back and forth up and down the playground. This was a bittersweet moment for me, since I wasn’t around to help my son learn how to ride a bike. The whole situation made me ache for my son who was now a young man.

I was patient and coached Reggie, not only on riding form, but in the importance of self-confidence. I just didn’t have enough time to teach him, but he was almost there. Like so many things we did in NOLA, time was our enemy.

I eventually turned Reginald over to John E. when I went back to make sure Kayla was ok. I caught up with her and walked her and the bike into the school and she took off to her afterschool program. After I came back out of the building, I stood on the playground and took it all in. There was something about the air that day in the schoolyard of the Success Academy, which reassured me that a good thing had just occurred. How could it have not? Young kids were presented with shiny new bikes. When you were young how bad did you want a bike?

As our caravans left the area, we were followed by groups of energetic children who hollered, “Good Bye.”

Wednesday turned out to be an emotional rollercoaster ride. I took in so much information on Sunday night and Monday my mind felt overloaded by Tuesday night. The first two days of the week felt like a month. During Sunday night’s icebreaker people were already choking back tears and silently weeping while listening to the stories told by John and the “Repeat Offenders,” people who had already been to New Orleans to volunteer in previous years, but who now paid their own way back each year.

Monday’s whirlwind tour of the most affected areas left me in disbelief. I knew there was a lot of work to be done still, but I wasn’t prepared for the amount of damage I witnessed. Tuesday brought relief in the form of eight sweaty hours of work on Mr. Bono’s house. The intense manual labor and learning the new trade of drywalling, helped take my mind off of the torn city around me. I didn’t know what to expect when I showed up for this trip, and the surprises kept coming. Like Jonathan Sandoval said at our closing dinner on Friday night, “I saw those pictures of the volunteers, but to meet them and learn what awesome people they were, I could’ve never imagined.”

Once again, on Wednesday morning I woke up early and cooked breakfast. This time there were eggs and I knocked out about ten omelets. Our group got a bit of a reprieve and didn’t have to head to the job site until 9 a.m. After we ate and packed our bags we loaded up the van and headed to the 7th Ward where we were going to work on a community garden.

The community garden was in the most unassuming place, sandwiched between two rundown houses, across from an empty field, and flanked by what looked like an abandoned dirt street. A young white lady, who went by the name of Ms. Emily (In the blue shorts in the first picture below), took over the garden after a local non-profit abandoned it. She planted and did all of the upkeep herself, with the help of the neighborhood children who she taught to plant and harvest the meager gifts of the small urban oasis. On Tuesday nights, she would invite the local children over for dinner, which often consisted of food grown in the garden. Ms. Emily was a law student at a local university. She was one of the many young people who transplanted themselves into this amazing city, and without much thought lent her hand in any way she could. On our trip, I met so many young people who came to New Orleans to volunteer. Young men and women who had amazing spirits full of selfless giving. This gave me hope for the future of our country. If only volunteerism was a contagious disease spreading rapidly amongst our nation’s population, then one day we might all stand together as one nation under God, indivisible, with justice for all. Someday…

A couple of the highlight’s from the first half of Wednesday were when Angie and I moved the existing compost pile so that new compost boxes could be built on Thursday. What made this seemingly small task a challenge was that we both hated bugs. For some reason I was so eager to work that I raised my hand immediately when Peyton (see picture below), the volunteer coordinator for “Hands On NOLA,” announced the first task not knowing what I would be getting in to. He even asked me as we walked away, “Are you sure you want to do that? You haven’t even seen the other jobs.” I should’ve taken that as a warning, but I didn’t.

Angie and I attacked the pile bravely with our pitchforks and dug hesitantly knowing that small monsters lurked beneath the layers of rotting leaves and food scraps. With the first scoop the melee was on. Thousands of “roly-polys,” centipedes, spiders and 3-inch cockroaches fled from the light trying to find new shelter from the onslaught of our stabbing and shoveling tools. Earthworms wiggled spasmodically searching for fresh dirt to penetrate and escape again. Angie and I, shivered and wiggled, as we suffered from a case of the heebie-jeebies trying to avoid having bugs crawl up the legs of our pants. I was so freaked out at one point while I was sawing an old tree stump, after the compost pile was moved and we began to reconstruct the fence, that I took the saw and swung it at my leg like an idiot when I noticed a two-inch cockroach climbing up my pant leg. Good thing I didn’t swing that hard at it or I might’ve cut my leg pretty bad. After an hour or so, Angie and I worked without thinking about the bugs, slowly overcoming one of our greatest fears.

While I was in the back working away on the tree stump, an older black gentleman came out of a house behind the garden and engaged me in conversation. He told me his name was Ali Shabazz (That is what I understood). He was a jazz drummer who moved back from the San Francisco/Berkeley area after his mother passed during Katrina. Ali now took care of his elderly father who lived downstairs. Ali also lived in L.A. for a spell before travelling as a musician and settling in the Bay Area. He was a really interesting fellow, and like most of the locals we met, he was welcoming. He also razzed me because he felt that the food we were eating was not really traditional New Orleans’s food. He said real local meals include raccoon, possum and another varmint, with a name which I can’t recall right now. He laughed and invited us along on a trip just outside of town to see large alligators and eat the local cuisine, but we told him we couldn’t. He took off to the corner store before the rain set in.

The rest of Wednesday morning was pretty uneventful. The crew worked on cleaning out an existing rain irrigation system, repairing fences, fixing planter boxes and weeding. That was until it started to rain. As Peyton and I sat in the tool shed talking while the rain fell, I tried to imagine what the day was like August 29th, 2005. That thought gave me the shivers.

When the rain passed, it was time to clean up and head out for lunch before we built bikes at the school. I felt super lucky that Alan and Ashleigh were the type of project leaders that loved to try new food. We stopped by “The Joint” and grabbed some of the best BBQ I ever tasted in my life. I indulged in the brisket sandwich which melted in my mouth like it was the cotton candy of the meat world. I was ready to build bikes now and make some kids smile. To be continued…

“But the people cannot have wells, and so they take rain-water. Neither can they conveniently have cellars or graves, the town being built upon “made ground”; so they do without both, and few of the living complain, and none of the others.”
Mark Twain- Life on the Mississippi

The adrenaline from the desire to make a difference lifted me off my bed without a second thought. Seven a.m. didn’t feel too early this morning, especially after a remarkably dreamless night in a finally air-conditioned room. It was time to work. My fellow volunteers thought I was a little crazy, because I got up and manned the kitchen to cook breakfast for anyone who wandered through. One thing I loved about the people in the bunkhouse is that they enjoyed eating and most of them would say yes to breakfast without batting an eyelash.

I am a morning person. I believe breakfast is a celebration of another day of life. I attribute being chipper in the morning to the gratitude I feel for being blessed to witness another day on this beautiful Earth. Usually, I show gratitude through prayer, meditation and omelets; these things often help me stay patient and centered all day long and give me the wisdom to remember what situations, people and places I have control over and those which I do not.

The partial sunrise I witnessed that morning rivaled the most beautiful California sunsets, and I thought about how I couldn’t remember the last time I watched the sun come up. It made me feel slightly odd to not be able to recall the last time I partook in that morning ritual. There are not too many places in the big California cities where you are able to witness the sunrise though, due to tall buildings or rolling foothills. I am glad I took time to enjoy this daily miracle.

My clan- Group #2- worked the early shift. By seven o’clock we were packed, sweaty and ready to head out to Mr. Bono’s home.

Mr. Bono rebuilt his new home from the ground up after the storm. The flood waters in the Gentilly Neighborhood where he lived reached heights of up to thirteen feet. Our primary job was to help finish hanging the drywall and apply the last touches so that the electricity and painting could hopefully be completed in the near future. Mr. Bono and his family were displaced after the storm and are still not able to live in their new home.

Since our team did a few hours of work on Monday afternoon at Mr. Bono’s, we all knew what our assignments were when we arrived. When the local volunteer agency project leaders Catherine and Sebastian (See pic below) showed up and let us in, everyone got right to work. Ro, Alan and I hung drywall and mudded the master bedroom. The wonderful and hardworking women in our group, Ashleigh, Jay, Jody, Jackie and Angie attacked the living and dining rooms with ferocity, mudding and taping up all of the existing drywall; making sure everything was ready to be sanded. We were all on a mission to get as much work a done as we could before we moved on to our next project. Our only enemy was time.

Like a lot of the areas in NOLA, there are many houses being built from the ground up or repaired, while others in the neighborhood stood boarded up and condemned. Throughout the week our group heard numerous reasons why houses stayed abandoned and untouched. The most prevalent stories were of renters who fled the state and never came back, families who lost everything inside due to mold and water damage, and tenants who were still trying to prove to the City that they were the rightful owners, but were having trouble proving it because all of the deed paperwork was lost in the storm.

The Gentilly neighborhood was quiet most of the day. Not a lot of traffic of any kind flowed up and down the streets. Well, if it did, I couldn’t hear it over Ashleigh’s 90’s dance mix on the boom box in the other room. The music kept things fun in light of the serious jobs we were performing. We sweat and worked our butts off helping out a man we didn’t get to meet, but we didn’t care. We were in NOLA to help improve the lives of those who needed assistance.

While a few of us finished hanging the drywall, the other team member’s took off to prepare dinner for the rest of our group. Our team decided to honor the now growing national tradition of “Taco Tuesday,” by cooking soft and hard shell tacos with all the fixings. Please don’t think that cooking dinner was part of one of my crazy schemes to feed everyone. Each group cooked at least one dinner during the week as part of our chores. In my humble opinion, our dinner was the best meal of the week. Great job team!

Later that evening as I talked to one of the other project leaders about the work we did that day, our conversation shifted to picture I took earlier in the afternoon. In my picture I noticed that the Master bedroom’s only view was of the abandoned house across the street. For some reason that made me sad and confused. The project leader thought that Mr. Bono had a lot of “balls” to rebuild his house, especially in a neighborhood that suffered considerable damage. I totally agreed. After a few minutes of discussing the many facets of hope in rebuilding, my sadness began to recede. Mr. Bono’s house was a symbol, once again, of the rebirth that continued everywhere in NOLA. Without his dream and willingness to start his life all over again, the city would never return to the its previous pre-flood state. It still might never reach a pre-Katrina state, but the city that germinated from the wake of the flood was proving to be stronger and more resilient than it ever was in the past.

NOLA is a complicated city, both physically and culturally. The following picture I took below I think captured everything there is to say about NOLA after the floods. (Please click on the picture and read the sale sign).

What a night! After being up at 5 a.m. the previous morning and travelling all day, I still struggled with sleep at 2 a.m. The two-hour time difference was the first thing that started my slow descent into zombiedom. Then the heat and humidity sent me further on a slow fall into a state of fuzzy sight, tired body and spinning mind.

All through the evening as everyone got acquainted, I prayed that our air conditioning unit would work throughout the night. As I contemplated my future comfort, I remembered why I wanted to come to New Orleans. I will have to say, it was difficult to sleep in a room where the temperature hovered around 90 degrees with 70 percent humidity. I barely slept three hours and when I woke up I found my bag in a puddle of water from the broken a/c unit. I didn’t want to cry, but I wanted to throw a mini-tantrum. Then I remembered what brought me here.

I crawled out of my sweaty cocoon and pulled the wet clothes out of my soaked bag. I admit, I complained to a few people about my misfortune, but in the back of my head I felt like such a wuss. I realized I was throwing a fit and took the clothes outside to hang them on the back patio. To forget about myself, I went upstairs and preceded to cook breakfast for the masses. Being of service to others can kill the ego in no time flat. After we ate ham and grilled cheese sandwiches, we headed out for a tour of the city and all the areas that were affected by Hurricane Katrina on August 29, 2005.

I will let the pictures of the tour speak for themselves. What I saw left me speechless. The people that know me are probably laughing at the idea of a “Speechless Tony.” Of course I asked a lot of questions of our tour guide because I am a sponge for information. We are only on this planet for a short amount of time,and I want to learn and enjoy everything I can before its my turn to return to Mother Earth. There is still a ton of work to do in New Orleans.

The whiny little me that left this morning does not know the true meaning of losing everything like many of the poor souls of this City.

The City still needs help!

This is the levee that broke and spilled into the Lower 9th Ward, erasing thousands of lives in a matter of a moment.

The picture below shows all that is left of some peoples’ entire lives; completely erased from the earth without a trace of existence. Oh my poor bag. Serious? I have heard harrowing stories retold about how countless volunteers have helped families sift through all that was left of their possessions. Moldy mounds of photos and memories which can never be replaced. Then there are the residents who didn’t lose their lives and were forced to live everyday with nothing. Grandmas, Fathers, sons, daughters, friends, and neighbors, left with nothing to their name except a few stones where a house foundation once lay.

But there is hope. Organizations from around the United States, volunteers and even celebrities such as Brad Pitt are helping rebuild this city. It is still a long way from being rebuilt. The house below was built by Brad Pitt’s organization (Make In Right NOLA) in the 9th Ward. To me, the style and thought put into the designs of these houses and the ingenuity, including solar power, represent a rebirth for this great city.

I am so proud to be here. I can’t say anything else. Except, that at 7 a.m. tomorrow morning I will be up and ready to help rebuild New Orleans. The whole time thinking about who can I help next.

I am insignificant. There are things which are way bigger than me, but the impetus for any thought or doing starts in my mind. There is only the world that I know. That is mine. Once I am gone, it no longer exists.

The volunteers’ flights landed and everyone made it safely to the bunkhouse. Most of us travelled from regions where humidity was never a factor so for the first few hours we all stood around, trying not to complain, while we adjusted to the humidity and heat. The group moved slowly into the kitchen area, and everyone tried to carefully maneuver around each other, through the door of a giant house whose insides seemed to shrink with the arrival of its new occupants. Somewhat quickly and comfortable everyone settled down for a Southern home cooked meal of salad, rice and Chicken Adobo. The personalities of all who were gathered this week, people who were dedicated volunteers- those types of people that show up and just get the work done when it needs to be completed, quickly killed the transitioned from a group of mostly strangers into a rumbling room full of laughter and camaraderie.

Kaiser is very ethnically diversified and often ranks high on Corporate Diversity lists. The rainbow of faces in the room; Asian, Black, Latina and White, were a testament to this. What an amazing sight. A devoted group of volunteers from every walk of life came together for a week to continue rebuilding New Orleans, nearly seven years after Hurricane Katrina swept through the centuries-old city and changed many peoples’ lives. The healing still continues.

On Monday we begin a journey together, emotionally and physically. A “Hand’s On” journey, shoulder to shoulder, to bring the great city of New Orleans, another step back from the edge where it landed on that fateful day after being flooded over by a river of destruction which tore through the levees leaving the United States looking into the mirror of mortality again. Terrorism created by man with the help of Mother Nature. A force greater than any of us combined, but a tragedy that didn’t have to occur.

After dinner we moved down the street to a long parkway and stood at the base of the statue of Jose Marti, a Cuban Revolutionary. We went around in a circle and each person talked about what drove them to apply for this mission. The stories were all moving. I fought back tears every time someone talked. I felt an immense amount of gratitude for being chosen to not only help rebuild, but to be a representative of Kaiser Permanente’s always helping and outstretched hand. I was so proud to be amongst such an amazing group of selfless people. People ready to embark upon a journey that promised to be an emotional rollercoaster and a physical test of human endurance. But, I believe that the stories recounted by John Edmiston, the project founder, and all the project leads and “Repeat Offenders,” created an impetus of hope in each individual, a flame, that will burn beyond the end of this trip. This week is going to be emotional.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Daniel wracked his brain trying to remember the name of the girl he met the weekend before as he drove across town to see her.  They talked on the phone the night before, but he got really drunk and passed out. He couldn’t recall much from the conversation. From what he remembered the girl’s name sounded like a stripper alias:  something made up like Felicity, Chastity, or Serenity. None of these names seemed to fit into that comfortable place in his brain were correct thoughts were kept. He pounded on the steering wheel in frustration.  He decided to turn the loud rap music down in hopes that some silence would help resurrect some of the thoughts from the graveyard of his pickled brain.

“Serendipity! That’s it. Fucking A!” Daniel screamed.

He grabbed his aching head.  It was a small victory for him just to remember a name with how lousy he felt.

Daniel turned the music back up. The thumping sound of the bass seemed to soothe the pain from his consciousness. He scratched the peeling suntan on his muscular bicep and bent towards the passenger side of the car to grab a small square of lined paper on the seat. He pinched the creases of skin that gathered around his waist, this was an obsessive habit of his, and took note that he needed to eat less carbs and maybe do a few more crunches at the gym.

Daniel unfolded the piece of scratch paper and turned on the cabin light.  He looked up from the directions just in time to notice the exit that he needed to take was a quarter of a mile ahead. He merged into the right lane and began his exit while he scanned the rest of the chicken scratch on the crumpled page. There were notes scribbled all over. Compulsions he had written down three or four different ways at various times. Pick up this, do that, call this girl, exercise, don’t pick at face, don’t jerk off so much, make bed, don’t drink so much, and the list went on. There were also affirmations written at the very top, “One day at a time,” and “You are worth it.” The page looked like one big word find and he was the only one that could figure out the puzzle.

Daniel laughed a little when he noticed after the message, “One day at a time,” were the numbers of two girls he had been meaning to call and take out on dates. He wasn’t sure about one of them, because she was kind of a party girl and he didn’t really want to be with someone long term who was going to be out partying all the time; someone he would have to worry about maybe cheating on him.

Almost every possible place on the paper was filled with motes of information and directives for the way his life should be headed, but most of the words formed inky masses of train wrecked letters. Looking at the tattered notebook paper, which had even survived a couple of washes, he got a little depressed. He decided that when he got back home he would start with a brand new piece of paper in the morning and organize everything into a legible list. Daniel knew for sure if he got the list in order that things would get better. It was only a minor disorganization problem that kept him from achieving any greatness he thought.

Daniel’s stomach felt jittery as he rolled to the stop sign at that bottom of the ramp.  He turned on the light and checked his hair. He noticed a little white head under his right nostril and squeezed some white goo out of it and wiped it on the driver’s side floorboard. It was 7 p.m. and he had only been up for three hours. He called in sick to work earlier that morning.

As he sat there he couldn’t tell if it was nausea, hunger or his nerves that were acting up.  He wanted to turn around and drive back home.  He tapped the steering wheel and mouthed the words to the song on the stereo, then pushed the car into gear and thought, what do I have to lose?

The summer sun had set and the darkness started to tuck everything in. Daniel finally found his way to a crowded little trailer park a few miles off the highway. He thought about what he was doing, but only for a split second as he rang the doorbell on the tan tin can.

After a few buzzes, which he could hear outside through the thin exoskeleton of the mobile home, a young man appeared at the door.

“Oh hello! You must be, Danny Boy. I’m Sean.” The young man said. The thin fellow slid over and stretched out his skinny arm offering up a welcome.

“Go right on in. Sarah’s expecting you. Just head to that door straight back.”

On the way by, Sean grabbed at Daniels arm.

“Very nice! You might need a bigger shirt. Or you can take that one off.”

Daniel blushed when he realized Sean was flirting with him. He had never been hit on before by someone of the same sex. He didn’t think it would bother him at all, but this close encounter made him feel uneasy. Daniel had been hit on before by his gay cousin Edgar’s friends, but he knew that was all in fun.

“Whoop, Whoop! Do it boy. You’re fine!” Sean said.

“Sean, stop that noise!” A voice behind Daniel said.

Daniel turned and noticed Serendipity walking towards him and wearing a long silky black robe.  He got slightly turned on when he noticed she was wearing fishnet stockings on her long lean legs.

“Run along, Sean.”

Sarah waved her hand and Sean said his salutations and danced back over to the couch and plopped down.

“What a silly fool. I told you, right?” Serendipity said.

Daniel looked confused.

“Remember last night on the phone, Danny Boy? I was telling you about my roommate Sean?”

“Oh Yeah. Right.” Daniel said.

“Man, you were a mess last night, Danny. You need to take better care of yourself.”

Serendipity lunged forward and pecked him on the nose. Daniel realized now that she was almost as tall as him. They stood face to face.  Her raspy voice seemed dark and sultry coming through her pouty red lips.

“Danny Boy. Hello? Do you want red or white?”  Sarah asked.

She waved her hand in front of his glazed eyes. Daniel must’ve zoned out for a second. He was exhausted.

“Seren…”

“Baby, just call me Sarah, ok?”

Daniel let out a deep breath. His eyes and throat were really dry.

“Sarah. I’ll take some red please, and a cup of water.”

“Sure, Baby. Head back to my room and just make yourself at home.”

Daniel walked down the narrow hall and entered the dimly lit room. It was small and decorated to the hilt. Pictures of Sarah, her friends, and what looked like her big family, hung everywhere on the wall. There were also old movie posters with Audrey Hepburn and Liz Taylor striking stylish poses with half grins. The room smelled familiar. Daniel recognized the scent as Vanilla body spray. His last girlfriend, Tanya, who had left him for another guy a few months earlier, wore the same scent.   He started to yearn for Tanya, and her long hair and soft body. Daniel quickly kicked the thoughts out of his swirling mind.  He knew he needed to get over it. It was her loss, he thought.

Daniel took off his shoes and sat on the bed, resting against a stack of lacey pillows. He fluffed them a little and noticed that one was embroidered with the saying, “All we want is love.” He took that pillow and hid it behind the rest of them. Daniel realized that there was music playing in the background, but it was turned down so low that the conversation in his head had drowned it out. He laid back and closed his eyes and thought about how he had no clue where he was. He kind of didn’t care. He was happy to not be sitting in his own room sulking and thinking about the past.

“Danny, you awake?”

Daniel looked over to see Sarah, who stood at the side of the bed with a wine glass, filled to the rim.

“Perfect.” Daniel said.  He sat up and took a long sip and the heat poured out of the cup and baptized his insides. The fog of calm moved in slowly, covering him from head to toe, and he popped the top button on his shirt.

“Danny, that’s a cute shirt. Your arms look great.”

“Thanks.” Daniel said.

“I don’t make you uncomfortable do I?”

Daniel took the cup and tilted it again. He wasn’t sure if he was blushing or if the wine made his cheeks feel flush. The liquid courage rushed down his throat and covered the pain and emptiness he had been feeling.

“Not at all.” Daniel said.

He might’ve been lying, but he didn’t know. Truth and lies were all swimming in harmony in the pool of wine in his once upset stomach.

Sarah shut the door and sat down her drink. She put the bottle of wine that was under her arm, on the nightstand closest to Daniel and turned the music up. The warm drink was making him relax and the smell in the room consumed his senses. When he closed his eyes, he could see Tanya’s curvy body.  Daniel felt the bed move a little and Sarah was resting with her head on his lap. He went to touch her hair and Sarah sat up. Daniel looked at Sarah and tried to focus.

“Danny, be careful with the hair. I have an audition tomorrow and I just got it done. They had to put some extensions in because it was too short for the role I was going to play.”

Danny got a little resentful. One of the things he loved most about women was their hair. He wanted to touch Sarah’s hair, but agreed to leave it alone. Sarah laid her head back down in the same vicinity. Daniel took another drink.

Sarah began to rub Daniel through his pants and he let out a slight moan.

“You relaxed, Danny?”

Daniel slid down and closed his eyes. He pushed his hips up to offer Sarah better access.

“What movie you going to be in?”

“Just a little independent film my friends are making. I play a drunken housewife whose husband has just left her for another woman.”

Daniel tried to stroke Sarah’s hair again. She moved his hand away. He wasn’t used to not being in control, but he decided not to fight it.

Daniel barely remembered any of the conversation from the night before, and Sarah reminded him of how dirty he had talked to her.

“Danny, you have such a creative mind. Never met a boy who thinks like you.” Sarah said.

Serendipity unbuttoned Daniel’s pants and started to tug at him. She looked up and caught Daniel watching her.

“Danny, you have such a thick penis. It tastes good in my mouth. Just lay back and let me take good care of you.”

Daniel squeezed his hips. Sarah worked Daniel up and down with her mouth and her hand in unison. Daniel reveled in her prowess.  Soon she had Daniel’s pants all the way off and his legs up. She worked one of her fingers into his backside.

Daniel’s body started to spasm. Sarah took her large hands and forced his pelvis down as she held her mouth around him until he was done.  She pulled herself up and wrapped her arms around Daniel’s broad shoulders. He could only smell vanilla as Sarah sat with her head on his shoulder. She looked up and without warning grabbed Daniel’s head and kissed his mouth. The immediate taste of salt made him want to pull back, but he didn’t.  He grabbed at Sarah’s small chest through the silky robe, but she brushed away every advance. Daniel grew drunker and more persistent. He used his strength to his advantage and held Sarah’s hands behind her back with his and kissed her all over her neck and ears. He whispered into her ear.

“Please let me fuck you, baby? You won’t regret it.”

Sarah’s voice broke and she squeaked out a warning to Daniel.

“Daniel, better be nice or you are not going to get anything. Please let me go.”

Daniel let go of her hands and looked at her with a scowl.

“Come on, Baby, don’t be mad,” Sarah said. She tried to grab Daniel’s hand and hold it.

“I should get going.”

“Danny Boy, you haven’t been here that long. Please don’t go.”

“I’m not feeling too hot.”

Daniel couldn’t think of a better excuse to mask his resentment.  He pulled up his pants and put his boots on and zipped them. He started off down the narrow hall. He knew he might be too drunk to drive, but the adrenaline cancelled out the alcohol. He grabbed for his keys which were on the small glass table by the door and stepped out into the warm night air.

“Bye, Danny Boy! See you again!” Sean said in a high-pitched voice from the couch.

Daniel didn’t even say good bye or turn to see if Sarah was following him. He could hear her footsteps behind him, but quickened his pace and shut the door without regard for her.  He started to regret what he had just done. He thought about how she had penetrated him and he felt slightly ashamed, even though it had felt so good. He jumped into his car and never looked back.

The following day at work Daniel sat at his cubicle and talked to his buddy Pete on the company instant messaging system.

“How’d that date go?” Pete typed.

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” Daniel replied.

“Why not man? That bad?”

Daniel thought again about the whole scenario. In his mind it seemed normal, but a little piece of it didn’t seem quite right.  He wondered if maybe the shame, and the fact that Sarah wouldn’t let him be in control, might be the reason why the whole situation felt weird. While some guys fantasized about having an aggressive woman, Daniel didn’t.

“Nah, I just didn’t feel comfortable there.  Sarah was a little strange,” Daniel wrote back.

Daniel made up this lie to keep from letting Pete know the real reason he was depressed.           “Dude, I meant to tell you something the other night, but you were too blasted to listen.” Pete typed.

Daniel started to worry. He wracked his brain trying to remember if he had done something reckless that he might’ve forgotten. He had hit on Pete’s girlfriend before and then there was the time Pete’s mom caught Daniel having his way with Tanya in Pete’s backyard.  Daniel and Pete found it way funnier than Pete’s mom. After that, Daniel was banned from Pete’s mother’s house.

“Did you see Tanya?” Daniel asked. Daniel felt secure typing this from the confines of his own cube. By just reading the message, Daniel knew Pete couldn’t tell how much he really wanted to know if Tanya still talked or asked about him.

“LOL, No! We should go downstairs, Danny. I need a smoke. Meet me by the stairs.” Pete typed.

Daniel walked reluctantly to the stairs. He started to feel that fear that could only be brought on by a night of blackout drinking and the unknown consequences of his actions.

Pete lit a cigarette and Daniel kicked one leg up against the wall. The smell of the smoke made Daniel feel sicker.  He dropped one leg and then put the other one up. He crossed and uncrossed his arms, making every attempt to subdue some of his anxiousness.

“So, the other day I was talking to Clemente and I mentioned that you were talking to this chick named Serendipity. He about shit his pants.”

Daniel dropped his leg and shoved his hands in his pants pockets. The white shirt and tie around his neck started to feel snug.

Pete took a drag and continued. He held the suspense knowing he had Daniel’s full attention, which wasn’t often. He knew Daniel usually only paid half attention unless the story was about him. Pete could see the worry in Daniel’s face. He enjoyed messing with Daniel any chance he got. He considered it payback for all the shitty situations Daniel had left him in over the years.

“Go on, fag.”
“Oh touché,”

“Just go on!”

“Clement told me that his buddy, Henry, had gone out with this girl named Serendipity a couple of weeks ago. I described your girl to him and he said it sounds like the same one.”

“Same one? What the fuck does that mean. Will you quit fucking around?”

“Clemente’s homeboy had this girl over, and he had a strange feeling about her. Some shit about not letting his buddy touch her and shit. So when the chick went to the bathroom, they went through her purse.”

Daniel didn’t like where this was going. He loosened his tie and stood directly in front of Pete.

“Get this, Danny boy. The chick was a guy! Not only was she a guy, but they had gone to grade school with her. Her real name is fucking Jose Gamboa or something.”

“That’s bullshit! You’re fucking lying.” Daniel said. He didn’t want to believe them, but he knew it was true. He started to feel ashamed when he thought of the blowjob.

“Lucky you didn’t do anything with that trick,” Pete said.

Daniel turned around to take off.  Pete grabbed him by the arm.

“Hey dude, relax.  You didn’t fuck her did you?  She looks perfectly like a girl. She’s fooled more than just you.” Pete said.

“That’s some sick shit. What the fuck is wrong with these people. I am going to find that motherfucker and unleash on her, him, whatever the fuck. “

“Tell boss I am not feeling well and turn my computer off.”

Pete laughed uncontrollably. He flicked his cigarette and went back in.

Daniel rolled up his window. He turned up the music and started to panic thinking about how he was going to be the laughing stock of his friends if Pete told everyone. He thought about going back to tell Pete to keep his fucking mouth shut, but rage filled him and he wanted to drive back across the Bay and beat someone’s ass for tricking him. He decided to stop by his house before going anywhere. He had no recollection of how he got to Sarah’s house the other night. He had misplaced the piece of paper in his pocket that contained the directions and needed to find it.

When he got home, his roommate Clayton was sitting on the futon watching TV.

“What you doing home so early, Dan?” Clayton asked.

Daniel didn’t say anything. He just marched to his room and shut the door. He wanted to scream, but couldn’t. He was so angry and ashamed of his behavior.

He sat on the bed to try and calm down.  When he did he heard the noise of crumpling paper under his covers. He ripped back the sheets and almost vomited. The paper was an 8×10 photo copy of Jose’s driver’s license. Daniel sat back down. It was a bad dream. This shit wasn’t happening. He went to hang up his jacket, and when he opened the closet door there were two more photocopied pictures taped to the back of his closet wall. He had never felt so sick in his life. He felt violated.

Daniel found at least 20 more pictures:  under pillows, in drawers, in cds.  They were everywhere.  He rushed out of the room.

He grabbed Clayton by the collar.

“Did you do this shit?”

Daniel could barely think. He wanted to fucking kill that sick bastard Jose. He didn’t understand what had happened, but he knew he had been wronged.

“Dan, chill out man. Clemente and Pete were in your room earlier. I didn’t do shit. They told me what they were doing, but I didn’t help.”

Daniel rushed to the kitchen counter and grabbed the bottle of whiskey sitting by the microwave. He opened it and pounded down a few swigs. He grabbed the phone and went back into his room and started crying. He furiously dialed until it started to ring. Someone answered.

“I fucking know who you are and I am going to find you and kill you!” Daniel said.

Daniel couldn’t even recollect where Sarah lived. He noticed a bunch of torn up pieces of paper in his trash can and realized he must’ve torn up the directions when he arrived home last night. He didn’t remember any of it

“Danny, I was going to tell you.” Sarah said.

“Why the fuck? Why? What the fuck?”

Daniel sniffled. Sarah tried to explain herself.

“I thought you would understand because you know.”

“You know what? Huh, you know what?”

“Well, I thought you might understand. You mentioned how you were close with your gay cousins on the phone the other night. You were probably too drunk to remember. Anyway, I really liked you.  I am really sorry.”

“Understand. You had my dick in your mouth. If you needed a shrink we could’ve talked, but you tricked me.”

“I’m sorry, Danny.”

“Listen you need to be honest with people! See what happens. I’m sorry for threatening you. I’m not going to kill you, but the next person might. “

“I know. I know.” Sarah said.

Daniel composed himself. The fury had subsided some and he thought about what a fucking mess he created sometimes.

“Danny, Danny, I really like you. Is there a chance?”

Daniel’s body felt warm again and part of him wanted to have Sarah sucking him again.  The other half of him was furious for being lied to. The anger took over. Daniel held the phone away from his ear as he thought about what to say. He could hear Sarah sobbing into the phone. He lifted it to his mouth again and spoke.

“Listen bitch, stay away from people. You don’t even know who you are! You fucking monster!”

He could here Sarah sobbing and screaming for him to listen, but Daniel hung up.

He could hear Clayton in the living room laughing as he recalled the events that just transpired to what must’ve been Pete or Clemente on the other end of the phone.

Daniel felt sorry for Sarah, but he knew he couldn’t call her back.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

 

Korben stroked Vanessa’s stomach while they lay naked. They were both silent. The air was tinged with a wet smell that accompanied the couple’s best attempts at exchanging the feelings of love they thought they shared.  Korben leaned in to kiss the side of Vanessa’s head as he traced the underline of her plump breasts and then dragged his finger down to the top of the stubble in between her legs.

“Stop it, you’re tickling me.”

Disregarding her request; he continued to retrace the path several more times. He figured if he did it enough she might succumb to his lackluster attempt at seduction.

“No seriously. That tickles.”

Korben pulled back and crossed his arms.

“Sorry.”

“It’s ok.”

“Did you enjoy that?”

“Enjoy What?”

“The sex.”

“Of course, didn’t you hear me screaming? I hope the neighbor’s didn’t.”

Korben unfolded his arms and turned on his side. He took his right arm and rested it across Vanessa’s mid-section, and hugged her.

“Damn, you have some sexy thighs, baby.”

Vanessa didn’t respond. She looked at the ceiling.

“Baby, you ok?”

“Of course, Korben, Why you askin’? You ok?”

“Just wonderin’. You seem distant.”

“I’m great. Just enjoying the moment.”

Korben kissed her right hip. He could still smell the scent of sex. He wasn’t sure if it was from the tip of his nose or if it was wafting from in between her legs, but it was comforting. This made him feel manly.  He grabbed her tighter. Vanessa patted him on the head with her right hand as she held her left hand up and looked at it.

“K, we’ve been pretty down on our luck lately, huh?”

Korben flipped over on his back and grabbed Vanessa’s right hand with his left.

“K, don’t squeeze so hard. You sure you’re ok?”

Vanessa sat up with her back against the headboard. Korben caught a glimpse of her tits and this turned him on a little. He pulled himself up closer to the top of the bed. He turned and hugged her around her dimpled midsection. The skin felt softer than anything he could compare it to. His hand slowly made its way from her stomach back up to tracing the same w-shaped path underneath her tits. He wanted to open up and tell her what was on his mind, but his pride had put a gun in his mouth so he couldn’t speak. He mumbled under his breath.

“What’d you say?”

“Baby, do you still love me?”

As Korben looked up, he squeezed the bottom of her right breast and stroked it back and forth out to its pointy end.”

“What makes you think I don’t?” Vanessa asked.

“I don’t know.”

“What’s really the matter?” She asked again.

Korben let her body go and sat up. He scooted away from her towards the middle of the bed. He sat Indian style, as he still called it, and stared at her chin. He wanted to look her right in the eyes, but knew that if he did, she would see straight through him and any security he had left would be lost. He would lose this game of love.

“You sure are gorgeous,” He said. He focused on her slight cleft chin, which really drove him nuts. Her funny chin and the way she held her mouth open when she wasn’t saying anything were traits that he never wanted in any girl he dated.

His buddy, Curtis, reminded him of this the first time Korben introduced him to Vanessa.

“Well at least she’s always ready,” Curtis said.

Korben cringed.
“Can you not be a misogynist for once?” Korben said.

“Massage, my what?”

Korben laughed a little thinking back on his buddy’s retort. He looked up from Vanessa’s chin, but she was inspecting a handprint bruise on her leg.

“Baby, you have strong hands. Be careful. You know I have to wear skirts at work. I don’t want customers to think I’m a victim of domestic abuse.”

Korben took some pride in his strong hands and how they often left temporary tattoos on Vanessa’s thighs, breasts and arms for a few days after they made love. He hoped people would see his brand, and somehow understand she already was taken. He knew this wouldn’t keep most guys at bay.

That is how they met anyway. Korben had seen the prints on Vanessa one day at work. He could tell a sex handprint from a mile away. Often these types of bruises were not attended to as seriously as abuse bruises. If anything, those handprints made him want her more.

Legs were his favorite, then hair. Regardless of the features he despised most on a female, if a girl had great legs and nice long hair, he was sold. Vanessa had the legs, but she had short hair. Since Korben didn’t try that hard to get Vanessa, he could deal with the hair. She was super cool, street smart, smart-alecky, and very passionate about how she was going to change the world.

Korben usually neglected his list of necessary traits a female should have, especially when they pursued him. He was always too tired and often too drunk to put effort into anything but worrying, complaining, and more drinking.

Korben decided to open up a little.

“Baby, I’m just a little bummed, because I feel like such a loser. Here it is Saturday, we got paid yesterday, and I only have $40 to my name.”

“You’re no loser. Money is not a big deal to me. You know that. You know what’s mine is yours, right? When I get my first check we will be better.”

“Thanks, baby. But, I still feel like a loser. Fucking God, never looking out for us.”

Korben flipped a bird in the direction of the ceiling.

“Don’t cuss God like that, Korben. That’s bad luck. Anyway, you know you’re my sexy man. You make me smile a lot and that should be worth something.”

Korben inched closer and put his hands out palms up. Vanessa rested her soft thick fingers on top of his chubby ones. Korben looked up and their eyes met. She smiled and he did too.

“What’cha want to do now?”

“I’m hungry.”

“Me too. You know what? I’m feeling lucky. Let’s go to the casino? What’d ya say? We will use my last $40 dollars,”

“You sure that’s the best idea?”

“What do we have to lose?”

The passion in his eyes was contagious and within a few minutes, they grabbed the wrinkled clothes off the floor, and threw them back on. Korben went to the fridge, grabbed a beer and pounded it, while Vanessa put on some makeup and fixed her hair.

“Let’s go baby, you always look amazing. Hurry up.” Korben said.

Vanessa came out from around the corner as Korben pounded the empty beer can on the counter.

“Guess, I’m driving,” She said.

“I can drive.  It’s one fucking beer. I’m a big boy. Take more than that to get me shitfaced.”

“Yes you are.” She patted him on the belly and grabbed her coat, purse and keys.

Korben rubbed his stomach. He made a mental note to start working out tomorrow, and maybe lay off the beers. The extra weight he had put on since they had met added to his insecurity too, but not enough to make him take any action.

They held hands tight as they walked out to get into Vanessa’s beat up car. It was a cold night for Southern California, enough to warrant that both Korben and Vanessa wear coats. That and Vanessa’s beat up car had a huge crack in the middle of the windshield. She had been driving behind a truck and a shovel flew out and smacked the window. The crack had spider-webbed from the size of a softball to practically engulf the whole window. There was only enough room above the shatter on the driver’s side to see anything.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive?” Korben said.

“Nah, I got it.” Vanessa was a tough girl who had plenty of what she called shitty days. Sometimes the thought of Vanessa’s previous struggles gave Korben hope that he could keep her by showing her a better life than before. He knew she didn’t need him, but he really wanted her to.

Vanessa’s car was a science experiment in progress. She blew on the keys to warm them up, and slipped them in to the ignition gently. After wiggling them three times she cranked the engine. The car sputtered.

“Fuck, this is not a good sign,” Korben said.

“Baby, you know this happens all the time,” Vanessa replied.

“Ya, I know, but tonight feels different.”

“Korben, please don’t stress me out.”

‘Sorry.”

Korben sat with his arms crossed again and looked out the side window. The creeping feeling from the first beer gave him some hope that the night would get better. He turned his head just as Vanessa turned the keys. The car jumped and then hiccupped. It finally came to, rattling idle. Vanessa looked over and smiled.

“Viva la wherever the fuck we’re  going!” Korben said.

“Tonight is our night.” Vanessa said. She put the car in reverse and backed out carefully. Fortunately the back window was still fully intact. Grinding the jalopy into drive, Vanessa situated herself so that she could see the road ahead. She turned on the broken defroster in hopes that the cold air would keep the tiny bit of windshield she could see out of fog-free. Vanessa rolled down her side window to aid in keeping the window clear.

Korben felt nervous. He knew the car was on its last leg. He wanted to buy Vanessa a new one. If he only had the money, he thought. He dreamed a lot of having money and how he would take care of everyone. He slumped over a little and looked out the window at the dark sky as they merged onto the freeway towards the Indian casino. The cold air from the driver’s side window slapped him softly in the face. He could see an infinite amount of stars as they moved away from the city. Under his breath he said a prayer for a safe trip, asking God to do him just one favor.  He felt Vanessa’s warm hand cup his. She removed it only long enough to turn up the radio to drown out the sound of the wind that penetrated the car’s insides. She reached her hand back over and began to sing at the top of her lungs.

Vanessa drove at a safe pace. She understood all the dangers that could happen as a result of her ailing car. She was most aware that at any moment the windshield could succumb to a foreign object or strong gust and implode. She told Korben she had no clue what would happened if this were to occur, but it wouldn’t be fun. Korben told her it would be like an explosion of ice. He joked that the car wouldn’t need an air conditioner in the summer. He knew inside he would rather not know what might happen.

“Fuck!”

Vanessa pounded her hand on the steering wheel.

“What? What?” Korben said. He quickly sat up straight. His eyes bulged a little not knowing what terror lay ahead.

“We need gas, baby. That’s all.” Vanessa dropped her shoulders a little.

“It’s all good. We can spare a few bucks for gas. Shit, we have to get there right?”

They pulled off into the well-lit station and drove up to the nearest pump. Vanessa stopped the car. Korben ran in and gave the cashier ten dollars. When he walked out he noticed a highway patrol car pulled up to an island kitty-corner from them. He picked up the pace and walked up behind Vanessa and gave her a hug. She had the nozzle already in the car ready to pump.

“Baby, see that HP over there? I have a bad feeling about this. He’s gonna see the windshield. I think it’s against the law to have a cracked windshield, especially that fucking big.  Aren’t the tags expired too?” Korben felt agitated as his buzz wore off.

“Don’t remind me. Just don’t pay attention to them. We’ll be fine. I haven’t been pulled over yet. Remember, this is our lucky night?”

They climbed in and Vanessa began her ritual.  After about ten tries, she banged on the dash. She crossed her arms on the steering wheel and rested her forehead on them. Korben could hear her crying.

He awkwardly reached over and patted her on the back.

“Shit, Baby, this is not good. The car won’t start now. We are fucked.”

Vanessa didn’t look up. Korben could hear her sniffle.

“Ness, sorry for freaking out. Ok. When the officer leaves I will go in and ask the cashier if he will jump us. Let’s just pray the cop leaves without noticing us.

Korben squinted through the broken glass on his side of the car. He could barely make out the figure of the patrolman coming out of the convenience store and getting into his car.  He had to stop squinting for a second because his eyes hurt. He breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed the silhouette of the patrol car pass through Vanessa’s open window and turn out of the station.

“Shit! That was close, baby. Let’s get out of here,” Korben said.

Korben scooted over and kissed her. He exited the car and ran to talk to the cashier.

In a few minutes, they were on their way again.

“Baby, this is our night. Something is watching over us. I can feel it,” Korben said.

“I hope you’re right.”

Korben put his hand in Vanessa’s lap and massaged in between her legs. He thought he could help her relax. He scooted over and kissed her on the ear.

“What do we have to lose? Absolutely nothing,” He said.

When they parked at the casino an adrenaline rush started to fill Korben’s insides.

“This is it, Sexy. I can feel it. We are going to dance with lady luck tonight.”

They crawled out of the car and Vanessa hurried around to catch up with Korben who had gotten a head start and was weaving through the cars heading towards the big Marquee. She grabbed his hand and he pulled her along. He looked back and she smiled.

“Fucking Indians have it made. I bet they are making shitloads of money,” Korben said.

They entered the building and the casino sounds soothed them like the pied-piper leading people to the ocean of watered down hopes and dreams. They swam through the smoke, and snaked through aisles of patrons of all shapes, sizes and ethnicities, most of whom looked crazed, hypnotized, but mostly dejected. Korben led Vanessa by the hand like he knew where they were headed. He had no clue. He was moving mostly on what he felt was his sixth-sense. He sometimes believed he could feel good luck coming his way. A week earlier when he had an intuition to take what little money they had and buy scratchers,  Vanessa joked that, lady luck being a female driver, must’ve swerved out of his way when she saw him coming. Korben didn’t think her comment was funny at all.

She often let him do his thing, even if she knew better.

They passed through a large arch into a section of the casino that connected the two bigger gaming sections. Korben stopped behind a crowd of people who lined up in front of an over-sized slot machine. People stood patiently and pulled at the three-foot long handle with a big red knob on it. It reminded Korben of an over-sized lollipop. One-by-one, disheartened individuals left the machine. A few of them were greeted by a spouse, partner or friend who would shrug their shoulders as if to express that it wasn’t meant to be. Korben felt pretty good. He had grabbed a beer from one of the cocktail waitresses who had passed by and ordered Vanessa one of the fruity drinks she liked.

“Ok, baby,” Korben Said. “I know you love this big slot machine.  Here you go.”

Korben handed her two five-dollar bills. Enough to get her two pulls. He knew how much she loved the giant slot machine and after the anxious and stressful ride to the casino, he wanted to see her relax, even if it was for a few minutes.

Vanessa jumped in line and Korben walked the perimeter watching people and sipping his beer. He marveled at the Asians who stuffed bill after bill into the machines and didn’t bat an eyelash. And he didn’t understand how the old white people with oxygen tanks could sit in all the smoke, smoking their cigarettes as they plunked coin after coin into the machine slots with their bony, lifeless hands. He started to get sad. He took another swig of beer. That helped him forget about everyone else’s problems and focus on his own.

Korben surveyed the floor looking for loose change. Every since he was a child he always kept close tabs on the ground, especially after he found a hundred dollar bill in the gutter when he was six years old. He turned to see where Vanessa was in the line, when out of the corner of his eye he noticed something on the floor. At first, he thought he might be seeing things. His mind automatically recognized the object as a wad of cash. The way things were going though, he couldn’t really tell if it was a figment or real. He drew closer to the lump. He looked back and noticed that it was almost Vanessa’s turn.

Korben shuffled toward the mass, but halted about ten feet away when he noticed an attendant walking towards it. The attendant stepped right on top of it and stopped when she greeted a player who needed change. Korben’s heart sank. He just knew she had seen it and it would be just a few seconds and the lump, which looked like a wad of cash, would be gone. Then to his surprise, the lady turned and walked the other way. Korben thought quickly. He looked over to the slot machine and Vanessa was still waiting. The person in front of her must’ve been a big player, he thought.

He surveyed the room and noticed that the roof got lower as it neared the exit doors. He glanced around calmly to see if he could see any cameras. He felt like he was about to make a heist and the adrenaline blasted his senses. He deftly walked toward the wad and kicked it under the lower ceiling. He bent over to pretend tie his shoe and grabbed the bankroll. Standing up quickly he took the last swig of his beer and walked back over to Vanessa. She was still waiting her turn. He grabbed her by the arm.

“If we leave now we will have more money than you’re ever gonna win,” He said.

“What? “ She said. She couldn’t hear him whisper over the music and the noisy machine.

Korben spoke into her ear.

“Just trust me.”

Korben flashed the wad of money then tucked it into his pocket. He grabbed Vanessa by the hand and she followed without tension. They picked up the pace when they passed into the big noisy room where they had entered the casino. Korben told her to just keep walking and don’t look up. He was already thinking about getting caught.

They hit the door and took off sprinting. They laughed and held hands as they tried to remember where they parked so they could get to the car quicker. Korben thought about whether or not the car was going to start. The anxiety pushed him quicker. They jumped in and Vanessa started the car on the first try. It even seemed to idle better than it did before. As they drove off, Korben counted the money out loud. There was enough to pay the outstanding utilities and to give Vanessa all the money she needed to get her car fixed. He looked at Vanessa, and when she touched his hand and smiled, for the first time all day he felt loved.

Many Thanks to Seth Adam Wilder for putting up with the crap that I send him.

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