There was no explanation for this child’s behavior, thought Dr. Sarin. How could a child look so lovely and at the same time contain something so terrifying inside. He shook his head, an incontrollable shutter, at the image of this child starring at him as he inspected her teeth. No other child looks. Not one. They close their eyes. He wondered if this child would grow up to stare at her lovers when they were making love. His shoulders raised and shuttered again, embarrassed at the thought.
A knock on his office door disturbed him, brought him back to the day. “Doctor, your patient is ready for you. Mrs. Delaney and her son.”
Dr. Sarin rose from his chair, straightened his white coat, and headed into the light of the hallway. How had he ended up with this dread of his patients. How had his life wound around its path that his only patients were these terrifying English. He knew.
Greed. Greed had silenced his fear of the white children who possess spirits inside that none of his own had. These inhabit a world that is glossy and happy and noisy and comfortable. But inside, it’s as if their souls sit an inch below their skin. He could poke them and touch their flimsy souls.
“Doctor, that exam room.” His nurse pointed and scowled. He knew she had grown concerned about …what was happening to him.
“Yes, of course. Just thinking today. Well, good morning Mrs. Delaney. Good to see you Master Tommy.” He went immediately to the sink to wash his hands, scrambling to pull his mind, his heart, his head, something, anything around to face the two sitting in his exam room.
“Mommy said to tell you how good I’ve been at brushing. Haven’t I?”
“Yes, doctor, he certainly has.” She gave a little laugh. “We made a chart on the wall of his bathroom where he marks off each times he brushes. And for everyday that he’s brushed morning and evening, he gets more for his allowance.” The woman stopped. “Do you give your children allowances here?”
“Oh, yes, of course we do. Just like you do.” He had no idea what she was talking about but he could not give into her tone.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
This Was the Explanation - Melody Cryns
So, with the new year, I made this decision. I’m going to get up early and write my creative caffeine, then I’m going to dash off to Curves right down the street and exercise – all before work! Yes, it will all work out just fine. But, first, I had a serious matter to contend with. I’d just moved into the Linden Arms Apartments, and I had to talk to Helga, the kind, quirky property manager who had rented me the apartment. I had to let her know I couldn’t pay the rent in full until the 8th – all my checks are postdated. I fretted about how I’d tell her – worried that she’d look at me in a bad light. I’m sure my kids had problems coming up with rent money on time – she’d probably just think I was a flake.
But, hey, I’m doing the best I can. I walked down the hallway of the Linden Arms Apartments with our little white dog, Sydney. I saw Helga sitting in the office talking on the phone, an older robust German lady who laughed a lot and talked incessantly. She’d cornered my daughter Megan many times already and talked her ear off.
“I used to be wild like you!” Helga explained, her German accent still obvious. “I used to dance on top of tables in Germany, but now I don’t do anything!”
I saw Helga’s sister. I couldn’t remember her name until Megan told me. “Her name’s Patricia.”
She wore bright red woolly socks and a nightgown. “I know I don’t look my best,” she said, also with a German accent, “But these socks were handmade in Germany and they are very warm. Can I give your dog a cookie?”
I stood in the hallway and waited for Patricia to get a dog cookie, holding my checkbook, poised for negotiation, nervous about what I’d say – I felt as if “excuses” ruled my life.
After Sydney had gobbled down the dog cookie, I took her outside to sniff and hoped she didn’t have to do other business because I’d forgotten the doggie bag. It was a cool, sunny afternoon. My friend Emily was coming over to help me hang pictures in the new apartment – she had actual tools for this endeavor which she said was like an art. I believed her.
I finally walked into Helga’s office and sat down. People always feel they can sit down in Helga’s office – people hang out there, and sometimes they hug Helga or bring her hot soup. She was on the phone, “I need to start walking again,” she told someone.
“How are you doing? How was your new year? Your daughter said you were going out to hear music? How exciting!”
Wow, news traveled fast. “Yes, I had a comp ticket to see the Megatones. They were great! Live classic rock and I danced the night away!”
“Oooohh, you are so lucky. I spent new year’s eve alone – I didn’t know where to go. There was a time I was the party girl. But now I’m 60…”
“I’ve had parties at my apartments before,” I said. “One year we made the kitchen into a dance floor and used a disco ball Megan had and we invited all the neighbors!” And we were all dancing in the kitchen at midnight – and then we all went out on the balcony and yelled happy new year.”
Wait a second, I thought. I’m telling the property manager where I live this. What’s wrong with this picture?
“Ohhh, how wonderful! I wish you’d done that this year. I would’ve come. Maybe next year!”
I breathed a sigh of relief, still fiddling with the checkbook.
We talked a little more and I finally came out with it. “See, I just moved and then it was Christmas, and then, the IRS…I need to pay the rent on the eighth…I feel bad ‘cause I just moved in here…”
“Okay, that’s okay…there is a $50 late fee…” Helga said.
“I understand. I’ll write you a postdated check.”
“But for you, I’ll make it $25, okay?”
“Okay, thanks!” I breathed a big sigh of relief.
Just then I saw my friend Emily walk through the door with her metal box filled with tools. She was going to ring the doorbell, but I waved at her and she walked into Helga’s office. Helga already met Emily and her boyfriend Freddie the night we drank some shots to celebrate moving into the new apartment – and Emily and I were singing Beatles songs in the apartment and on our way up the stairs to the laundry room. She liked Emily and Freddie.
“Ohhh hello!” Helga said to Emily. “I thought you might want to get an apartment here. We have a one bedroom coming up!”
“Well, me and Freddie are looking for a two bedroom, but maybe…” Emily laughed.
“But it would be fun to have you here!” Helga said. “Maybe you’d have parties.”
“Ohh, we’d have barbecues out by the pool during the summer,” Emily laughed.
“Wonderful!” Helga said. “Oooohh, don’t worry about that late fee at all – I’ll be nice this time.”
“Are you sure? Thanks!” I said.
When we finally walked back to the apartment, I felt as if a big weight had been lifted…
But, hey, I’m doing the best I can. I walked down the hallway of the Linden Arms Apartments with our little white dog, Sydney. I saw Helga sitting in the office talking on the phone, an older robust German lady who laughed a lot and talked incessantly. She’d cornered my daughter Megan many times already and talked her ear off.
“I used to be wild like you!” Helga explained, her German accent still obvious. “I used to dance on top of tables in Germany, but now I don’t do anything!”
I saw Helga’s sister. I couldn’t remember her name until Megan told me. “Her name’s Patricia.”
She wore bright red woolly socks and a nightgown. “I know I don’t look my best,” she said, also with a German accent, “But these socks were handmade in Germany and they are very warm. Can I give your dog a cookie?”
I stood in the hallway and waited for Patricia to get a dog cookie, holding my checkbook, poised for negotiation, nervous about what I’d say – I felt as if “excuses” ruled my life.
After Sydney had gobbled down the dog cookie, I took her outside to sniff and hoped she didn’t have to do other business because I’d forgotten the doggie bag. It was a cool, sunny afternoon. My friend Emily was coming over to help me hang pictures in the new apartment – she had actual tools for this endeavor which she said was like an art. I believed her.
I finally walked into Helga’s office and sat down. People always feel they can sit down in Helga’s office – people hang out there, and sometimes they hug Helga or bring her hot soup. She was on the phone, “I need to start walking again,” she told someone.
“How are you doing? How was your new year? Your daughter said you were going out to hear music? How exciting!”
Wow, news traveled fast. “Yes, I had a comp ticket to see the Megatones. They were great! Live classic rock and I danced the night away!”
“Oooohh, you are so lucky. I spent new year’s eve alone – I didn’t know where to go. There was a time I was the party girl. But now I’m 60…”
“I’ve had parties at my apartments before,” I said. “One year we made the kitchen into a dance floor and used a disco ball Megan had and we invited all the neighbors!” And we were all dancing in the kitchen at midnight – and then we all went out on the balcony and yelled happy new year.”
Wait a second, I thought. I’m telling the property manager where I live this. What’s wrong with this picture?
“Ohhh, how wonderful! I wish you’d done that this year. I would’ve come. Maybe next year!”
I breathed a sigh of relief, still fiddling with the checkbook.
We talked a little more and I finally came out with it. “See, I just moved and then it was Christmas, and then, the IRS…I need to pay the rent on the eighth…I feel bad ‘cause I just moved in here…”
“Okay, that’s okay…there is a $50 late fee…” Helga said.
“I understand. I’ll write you a postdated check.”
“But for you, I’ll make it $25, okay?”
“Okay, thanks!” I breathed a big sigh of relief.
Just then I saw my friend Emily walk through the door with her metal box filled with tools. She was going to ring the doorbell, but I waved at her and she walked into Helga’s office. Helga already met Emily and her boyfriend Freddie the night we drank some shots to celebrate moving into the new apartment – and Emily and I were singing Beatles songs in the apartment and on our way up the stairs to the laundry room. She liked Emily and Freddie.
“Ohhh hello!” Helga said to Emily. “I thought you might want to get an apartment here. We have a one bedroom coming up!”
“Well, me and Freddie are looking for a two bedroom, but maybe…” Emily laughed.
“But it would be fun to have you here!” Helga said. “Maybe you’d have parties.”
“Ohh, we’d have barbecues out by the pool during the summer,” Emily laughed.
“Wonderful!” Helga said. “Oooohh, don’t worry about that late fee at all – I’ll be nice this time.”
“Are you sure? Thanks!” I said.
When we finally walked back to the apartment, I felt as if a big weight had been lifted…
It was so beautiful, I... - Judy Albietz
I spotted it as I was spinning around in the leaves washed up on the riverbank. I’m still not sure why I stopped to pick it up. It was just like any other stone. Oval-shaped and dull gray—almost the color of the muddy sand it sat on. It was as small as one of the nuts on the spindly tree behind our cave. I couldn’t even see it when I closed my fist.
I looked upriver to where my mother sat, moving her hands around in the clear river water. I’m the youngest. She takes me with her all the time. Maybe to keep me out of trouble or maybe since I’m her last baby.
I couldn’t see her face but I imagined she had her eyes closed as she whispered and sang. A breeze ruffled her hair and she stood up, stretching her long arms in the air. I knew I had only a few more moments alone with the stone.
When I first held it, it rolled back and forth until it found a comfortable position. Then a warm vibration traveled from my palm up my arm. I sat down and turned away from my mother. I put my eyes up to my hand and opened my fingers just a crack to check the stone.
“What do you have there?” Mother asked as she walked toward me. Then she sat down next to me and waited for me to talk.
“It isn’t anything. Here.” I placed the stone in her hand.
“Can I wash it for you?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She took me by the hand to the river’s edge. I watched her dip the stone in the water. When she took it out, it had changed. Now it was shiny white with silver blue streaks. It grew more beautiful every second I looked at it.
“Can I keep it?” I asked.
“Bakari, let’s go home,” she said.
I looked upriver to where my mother sat, moving her hands around in the clear river water. I’m the youngest. She takes me with her all the time. Maybe to keep me out of trouble or maybe since I’m her last baby.
I couldn’t see her face but I imagined she had her eyes closed as she whispered and sang. A breeze ruffled her hair and she stood up, stretching her long arms in the air. I knew I had only a few more moments alone with the stone.
When I first held it, it rolled back and forth until it found a comfortable position. Then a warm vibration traveled from my palm up my arm. I sat down and turned away from my mother. I put my eyes up to my hand and opened my fingers just a crack to check the stone.
“What do you have there?” Mother asked as she walked toward me. Then she sat down next to me and waited for me to talk.
“It isn’t anything. Here.” I placed the stone in her hand.
“Can I wash it for you?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She took me by the hand to the river’s edge. I watched her dip the stone in the water. When she took it out, it had changed. Now it was shiny white with silver blue streaks. It grew more beautiful every second I looked at it.
“Can I keep it?” I asked.
“Bakari, let’s go home,” she said.
It was so beautiful, he... - John Fetto
Hawley looked out from the roof and for a moment he forgot about the men in the courtyard across the street. As if lifted by the breeze that shifted from the foothills behind him, his gaze swept beyond the brick building was carried high over the cranes arching above Oakland’s harbor and the top of the freighter’s superstructure, toward a pair of sailboats tacking on the bay. For a moment his eyes saw nothing but the sunlight on the water on the tilting boats and he remembered another day, another time, when all he had to do but to hold the wheel on a boat like that, paying attention to nothing but the way the wind rolled over the sail. Then Hawley remembered the men across the street and his gaze dropped down, watching them. They were still stacking sandbags in the far corner of two cement walls, and as Hawley stared, one of them began assembling something made of black metal behind the bags. It could have been nothing more than a long piece of pipe attached to a rectangular box, until the top of the box cracked open and the man laid down a green band of ammunition and snapped it shut. He pulled back on the slide and grinned at his companion and when he did a gold tooth glinted in the light. Hawley raised the rifle and found the gold tooth enlarged in his scope. It glinted as brightly as the sunlight around the sailboat, and kept shining, until Hawley squeezed the trigger.
Splintering - Jennifer Baljko
The sock ate the bed the other morning just as the blue sun was walking on the horizon. Lost in the midnight stream of heated sweat, the sock slipped between the sheets and like Alice in Wonderland fell down a hole to nowhere. The Cheshire rabbit wasn’t there to take the sock to safety, and Queen of Hearts had vanished into the Royal House of Cards.
But the sock had the appetite of an elephant, so it munched on what was in front him – the futon.
“Please don’t damage my beauty. You are splintering my wood,” the bed squealed, throwing the duvet over her head.
“But you’re so tasty,” the sock whimpered. “And, I’m so hungry.”
The blue sun, with his pink rays leaking into the far-away black hole, interjected: “Why don’t we dance. Maybe you can shake your hunger away, Little Sock.”
So the bed stood up on two of her legs and started break-dancing. “Michael Jackson taught me how to moonwalk. Little Sock, do you even know who Michael Jackson was?”
“No clue. But I can shake my booty like Beyonce.” The sock wiggled his heel and spun around on his toes.
The three of them dance for a million seconds. Then, suddenly, everything stop. For no reason, other than there was nothing left to do. So they all went home.
But the sock had the appetite of an elephant, so it munched on what was in front him – the futon.
“Please don’t damage my beauty. You are splintering my wood,” the bed squealed, throwing the duvet over her head.
“But you’re so tasty,” the sock whimpered. “And, I’m so hungry.”
The blue sun, with his pink rays leaking into the far-away black hole, interjected: “Why don’t we dance. Maybe you can shake your hunger away, Little Sock.”
So the bed stood up on two of her legs and started break-dancing. “Michael Jackson taught me how to moonwalk. Little Sock, do you even know who Michael Jackson was?”
“No clue. But I can shake my booty like Beyonce.” The sock wiggled his heel and spun around on his toes.
The three of them dance for a million seconds. Then, suddenly, everything stop. For no reason, other than there was nothing left to do. So they all went home.
Splintering - Francisco Mora
Everyone gathered in a circle. Ace started the lecture part of the morning program. They’d just finished the physical segment. Ace’s program for chronic pain and rehabilitation was oversubscribed, as always. Patients were referred from hospitals as far south as San Jose, hours away, because the unique physical and metaphysical training Ace provided was extraordinarily successful.
“Please remember the work we just did as we stand here. We’re only going to stand for ten minutes to feel the interaction of the pelvis and the feet that we just worked on.”
Mostly everyone looked at Ace. Some looked at the floor. Eyes were beginning to close.
Ace launched into his “lecture.” He talked about light. He told them to imagine sunlight splintering under water in a pool, how it makes jagged white lines.
“The splintering of the light as it’s refracted by the water, that’s how I want you to think of what’s going on inside your tissues, muscle and bone tissue.” He Pauses.
“A watery medium is what’s inside. Find a tight spot in your body. Now, think of the splintering light and the sensation of water. Both.” Pause again, looking around. Everyone had their eyes closed.
“Go to the tight spot and search for the sensation of light in water. See what comes about. If you get a blank, let it be that. The go to tightness, feel it, and think of the light and water again.”
Ace walked to the light dimmer to bring in more light. He saw that Jake was peering through the blinds. Jake had been urged and enrolled in the program twice but never showed up. The jock couldn’t see himself as disabled by chronic pain. Ace pretended not to see him.
“Please remember the work we just did as we stand here. We’re only going to stand for ten minutes to feel the interaction of the pelvis and the feet that we just worked on.”
Mostly everyone looked at Ace. Some looked at the floor. Eyes were beginning to close.
Ace launched into his “lecture.” He talked about light. He told them to imagine sunlight splintering under water in a pool, how it makes jagged white lines.
“The splintering of the light as it’s refracted by the water, that’s how I want you to think of what’s going on inside your tissues, muscle and bone tissue.” He Pauses.
“A watery medium is what’s inside. Find a tight spot in your body. Now, think of the splintering light and the sensation of water. Both.” Pause again, looking around. Everyone had their eyes closed.
“Go to the tight spot and search for the sensation of light in water. See what comes about. If you get a blank, let it be that. The go to tightness, feel it, and think of the light and water again.”
Ace walked to the light dimmer to bring in more light. He saw that Jake was peering through the blinds. Jake had been urged and enrolled in the program twice but never showed up. The jock couldn’t see himself as disabled by chronic pain. Ace pretended not to see him.
Disintegration - Meg Newman
My tightened chest soaked in the sunlit day as I sped home. To some degree, but not entirely, Anne had the mindset of an emotional anarchist – – – there was no structure in her life or her mind that she could fully commit to. So, I really wasn't sure what I would find upon my arrival and braced for the range of possible images.
I flew up the steps and just as I inserted my keys in the door I heard Anne say something. I opened the door to find her standing in the kitchen, too color coordinated. Her eyes said don't run and hug her – I held myself back and tried to sound relaxed and just said I was really glad to see her, the understatement of all times. There was an old silver pistol, a large one, laying on the kitchen counter and I made sure that I was always between Anne and the gun as we began the next phase of the negotiation.
I flew up the steps and just as I inserted my keys in the door I heard Anne say something. I opened the door to find her standing in the kitchen, too color coordinated. Her eyes said don't run and hug her – I held myself back and tried to sound relaxed and just said I was really glad to see her, the understatement of all times. There was an old silver pistol, a large one, laying on the kitchen counter and I made sure that I was always between Anne and the gun as we began the next phase of the negotiation.
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