Friday, February 13, 2015

The Girl or the Gun

In spirit of Valentine's Day, here's a little short story I wrote in college (and one of the short stories that led to one of the best conversations I've had with my Uncle Mark, ever).. :) Who knows...might turn into an actual novel eventually. 

This is also consequentially the short story that got me rejected from an MFA program. (I laugh about it all the time.) :P I've tweaked/edited it a little since, and I know it needs more work.


The Gun or the Girl
Year 1992
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
            Arnie sat alone in his bedroom with his 1873 Colt Peacemaker. He loved this gun because it was one of the first repeating handguns ever made. He hadn’t paid much attention to it in a while so he needed to clean it.
            The Colt was very special to Arnie because his brother, Steve, gave it to him in when they were in their late twenties. Steve learned to drive a truck when he was eighteen. It was while he was working in New York that he got the gun. 
            “You won’t believe it!” Steve said enthusiastically, walking in the door. Arnie hadn’t seen him in a week. His fly away auburn hair frizzed under his baseball cap and he hadn’t shaved since December. “John Wayne gave this to me! I ran into him while I was dropping off a shipment near Broadway.”
            Steve proudly opened a cardboard box to reveal the gun.
            “I love you deeply,” Arnie said, putting his tools down near the couch. “But you’re full of shit.”
            Steve always loved telling stories to his wife, Cora. Cora was a good natured girl that humored his brother when she shouldn’t have. It was that, and her passion for animals, that caused Steve to fall in love with her when he was twenty-five. They met in a pet store where she helped the owner raise baby parrots.
            Cora was on the verge of getting evicted. Steve felt sorry for her. They got pregnant with their daughter after three months.
            Cora refused to marry Steve at first, and that caused a huge rift between her and their Mom. Arnie tried talking Mom into trying to accept Cora into the family but she just wouldn’t do it, even after Steve and Cora declared a common law marriage. It was in ’85, when Steve and Cora had a real wedding after their son was born, that Mom finally gave in and accepted her into the family.
Steve told exaggerated stories.
Cora loved his story about a “street fight” he got into once.
“So me, and my buddy Jimmy, start rough housing.”
Arnie rolled his eyes.
It was a sunny afternoon on the Fourth of July. They had the family barbeque planned for months in Mom’s back yard. The smell of grilled hamburger and chicken wafted through the air, making his mouth water. Cora bounced the baby on her knee while she smiled wide and gave her husband her full attention.
“Jimmy, the knuckle head that he is, gets pissed off and starts a real fight after I mention he owes me twenty bucks for cigarettes two weeks ago. He punched me in the gut too hard, I get pissed off, grab Jimmy by the shoulders, and bite his ear off!”
“Ew, Steve!” Cora gasped, her eyebrows scrunching together in disgust.
Arnie burst out laughing despite how distractingly beautiful Cora was with her perm, long brown hair, and very little make up.
“You are so full of shit,” he said. “You were fifteen. Me and Mom broke that fight up and Jimmy busted you really good in the jaw.”
Steve glared at him.
In 1990, Steve died in that fucking rig. Two months after Cora and Steve had a second boy.
It wasn’t just the gun Steve gave Arnie which he cherished. Two years before Steve died, they had some work they had to do on the car after another driver flew past him by running a red light. They got it running while they were teenagers, but Steve often helped Arnie give it tune ups.
“I think you fried your clutch,” Steve said after a few minutes of failing to get the car to move.
“Great. I can’t believe that moron pulled in front of me.”
“I can’t believe you tried to stop in the wrong gear,” Steve said. “This car is a baby. I told you it was when I decided you’d be the one to keep it.”
Arnie threw a greasy towel at his head. “You gave it to me because it’s too flashy for Cora and the kids.”
“Are you kidding me? Cora loves this car. She’s always asking me to get it from you so we can go for a drive.”
Arnie wanted to answer his brother, but he shook head at Steve and threw a greasy rag at his brother’s head. “Well, while we’ve got it open, does it need anything else?”
Rag still on his head, Steve fiddled around some more with the engine.
“Oil change. Your spark plugs look rough. Did you let Mom drive o Vegas again?”
“Well, she couldn’t take the station wagon.”
Steve shook his head and threw the rag off his head on the side of the car. “Arnie, come on. I’m going to have to take the car from you. I go out of town for two weeks and everything on the car starts falling apart. I didn’t almost get my jaw unhinged trying to get Jimmy to stop being an ass and help us just so you could let it rot like this.”
“Calm down. It just needs a little maintenance. What’s wrong?”
Steve sighed and closed the hood of the car.
“I’m just tired of being on the road all the time.” Steve walked over to the driver’s door and leaned against the car, as Arnie had been the entire time. The hood was up and one of the tires were also flat from the near-accident which caused Arnie to need Steve in the first place. I haven’t told Cora, but I really think I want to stop driving a truck.”
“What would you do? You used to love driving trucks.”
“Yeah, Arnie… but driving all the time takes time away from Cora and the kids. You’re there a lot for them but it doesn’t feel right to have my brother be there for my wife when I can’t be.” Steve’s hair was still long, and he brushed it out of his face. As adults, both Arnie and Steve kept mustaches and had gained a little weight, Arnie more so than Steve.
Arnie clapped his brother on the back.
“Steve, you know I love Cora. You couldn’t have chosen a better girl. But you need to think this through before you quit your job.”
“I don’t want to raise my family in the city. I think I want to move out of Philly.”
“What?” Arnie wasn’t sure if he was stunned or not.
“Yeah… Cora always talks about how she used to live in in the south a year before she decided she wanted to move up north. We don’t want the kids in a city environment. I want to raise them on home cooking and—“
“Steve, I love you, but good luck getting that past Mom.”
            Steve had always been a big dreamer. Arnie just never thought he would dream about something so different.
“I’m just thinking about it. It doesn’t mean I’m going to,” Steve said.
“If you moved down there, I’d never be able to keep this car running,” Arnie said.
Steve laughed and pulled out a cigarette. “Yeah, I know Arnie. That’s why I’m thinking the whole moving idea is a bad idea, even though I want to do what Cora wants.”
            Arnie took in a deep breath and set about cleaning the pistol, inspecting the bores. They were tarnished and rough-looking. The entire gun looked dull and neglected. His cleaning kit sat on his bed, each bore brush and cleaning cloth neatly lined up against his pillows.
            He couldn’t help but remember his brother. Losing Steve hit everyone hard when it happened four years ago, but Arnie had to stop and remember to breathe slowly as he picked up a bore brush and inserted it into the gun. He hadn’t touched it since Steve’s funeral.
            “Arnie?”
            Arnie sighed when his mother knocked on his bedroom door. Mom was in her early sixties and sounded like a fishwife when she raised her voice. Arnie frequently had to endure her nagging. Mom let him live at home. Arnie didn’t have to pay rent, but he still insisted on helping her pay the utilities. Mom owned some property, and she rented it out to roomers who sometimes came to her for cigarettes and beer. Some of the guys she let rent from her weren’t the best people, and so Arnie wanted to live with her at home so he could make sure she was safe. Mom always refused to work a practical job because she didn’t have the skills. She inherited the property she owned from Arnie and Steve’s dad once he died. They lost their dad when they were young.
            “Arnie? Come out here for a minute. Lauren called.”
            “All right, I’m coming, Mom.” Arnie sat on his bed for a moment longer and studied the gun before he closed the barrel and set it on his nightstand.
            “Well, hurry! I haven’t got all day. I have to go over to the house in Doylestown and ask the tenants there why they haven’t paid rent yet this month.”
            Breathing heavily, Arnie stretched, popping his back. He unchained his door and opened it. “I told her I’d call her when I was ready.”
            “What have you been doing?” Mom looked Arnie up and down.
            Arnie didn’t think of himself as much to look at. He was slightly overweight. His belly hung over his jeans. He scratched the bald spot on the crown of his head as he looked at Mom.
            “I, uh, got out the Colt.” Arnie shuffled his bare feet on the cool tile of the floor.
“Oh, you brought that out?” Mom put her hand on Arnie’s shoulder. “Are you okay? It’s getting pretty close to January.”
“I’m fine.” Arnie shrugged Mom’s hand off his shoulder. “Is Lauren still on the phone?”
            “No,” his mother said. She brushed her short curly hair behind her ears. “Where are you taking her tonight?”
            “I don’t know; somewhere fancier than the usual diner.”
            Arnie’s mother took in a sharp breath. “Are you finally going to propose?” A wide smile spread on her face. Her hand shot to his arm. “It’s about time!”
            “It’s just her birthday. I might just decide I don’t want to drive far and take her to the Spaghetti Warehouse.” Arnie thought about shaking Mom’s hand off, but he didn’t.
            Arnie felt like he was in a good place with his girlfriend. Cora introduced Arnie to Lauren at a Tupperware party. Cora temporarily sold it in an attempt to have something to do a year after Steve died. Neither one of the girls were the slight bit interested in Tupperware now. Cora focused more on painting, her real passion, and Lauren was attending community college while she worked as a night desk receptionist at the hotel Arnie worked at as an electrician. Arnie stalled starting a family after Steve died. Maybe it was because he was afraid the same thing would happen to his family if he got married—he’d have a few good years with his wife, have a few kids, and then die on them.
            “That’s still a really nice restaurant.” Except, Arnie thought to himself, his entire family ate there regularly. “It’s about time you give me grand babies. Have you both gotten more serious?”
            Arnie thought about that for a moment. He peaked back into his room and looked at the black box which sat next to his Peacemaker. He didn’t have his bedroom door opened so he could hide the box. If Mom saw it, she’d become so excited, Arnie would be afraid she would have a heart attack. “Ah, I like her.”
            “Oh! That reminds me,” Mom said. “Cora is bringing the kids over this weekend.”
            “Aw,” Arnie said. “I have to work a little overtime at the hotel this weekend.”
            Arnie thought he sometimes worked too much, but his relationship with Lauren wasn’t what suffered. His relationship with Cora and his niece and nephews suffered. He tried to spend time with them as much as possible. The kids were the closet thing Arnie had left of Steve, besides the Colt, and it broke his heart they didn’t have a father.
            “It’s okay.” His mother pushed her glasses onto her face. “Well, I’ll leave you to get ready. Lauren asked me to tell you to make sure you pick her up at seven-thirty.”
            Arnie told her he would get her at nine. He looked at his watch. It was six-thirty. Lauren consistently tried to move time around on him. She had a controlling personality, and most of the time Arnie let it go. He was nowhere near ready to go out, though. He needed to shower and finish cleaning the gun.
            “All right,” he said to his mother. He kissed her on the cheek. “Why are you going to collect rent so late?”
            His mother flashed a semi-evil half-grin. “Don’t ask, dear.”
            Arnie didn’t ask.
            Thirty minutes later, Arnie had on a nice t-shirt and slacks. He had the box in his right pocket along with his keys and wallet. His mother’s house was large. With three floors and five bedrooms, and a large basement and attic, it was sometimes an arduous walk from one end of the house to the other.
            Arnie was almost out the door when the phone which sat on a table near the front door started to ring.
            “Hello?”
            “Arnie! I was hoping to catch Nadine,” Cora said through the phone.
            “Mom’s gone out. I think she’s breaking into a tenant’s house to collect some rent collateral.”
            “Again? I hope she doesn’t hurt herself. Shouldn’t you be out there with her?”
            Arnie laughed. Mom only broke into a tenant’s house once when she thought they brought drugs into the place. She didn’t care about privacy laws, and that sometimes got her into trouble. It was another reason Arnie still lived with her. He didn’t want to control Mom, but he also didn’t want her to do something stupid.
“She probably is just issuing an eviction notice.” Arnie said. “Is everything okay? I’m supposed to head over to Lauren’s.”
            “Oh! Is it the big night?”
            Arnie stuck his hand into his pocket and fingered the box. He hadn’t meant to tell Cora he wanted to propose to Lauren.
            “Arnie?”
            “I’m still here, Cora.”
            “It’s okay. I know it’s the big night. You don’t have to say anything, because I know it must be scaring the hell out of you. Just take a deep breath before you do it and don’t worry—you aren’t making a mistake!”
            “Thanks, Cora.” Arnie said. He heaved a huge sigh of relief. “I needed to hear that.”
            “I’m already mom and dad. I can be sister and brother too.”
            Arnie laughed. “Okay. I have to go. I might not be around to see the kids this weekend, but love you all.”
            “Good luck! Love you too.”
            Arnie hung up the phone.

            “I thought you were NEVER going to get here!” Lauren said as soon as Arnie knocked on her door.
            He looked at the flowers in his hand; a dozen roses. Lauren didn’t even give the flowers a second thought as she flitted past him. Arnie caught a whiff of her vanilla perfume and coughed. Lauren always wore too much. Her tall black heels clacked noisily down her apartment steps as she walked to his red ’75 Corvette convertible.
            Arnie loved his gun and his car, even though it wasn’t his only one. Arnie also owned a Chevy Malibu he drove for every-day errands. When Arnie was sixteen, and Steve was fourteen, Steve helped Arnie restore the Corvette after they found it in a junk yard. The radiator was busted in from a telephone pole, the owner of the junkyard said, and it hadn’t been touched since. The hood had been a crumpled mess. For a year and a half the boys scraped and begged for money from Mom so they could work on it. Arnie got his first job working at a diner down the street to earn cash too. Arnie would never forget Steve’s face when they finally started the engine. It purred. Steve immediately wanted to try to repair another car. Maybe that was why Steve ended up driving a truck.
            “Oh, this car?” More heel clacking. “I love this one!”
            Lauren must not really like flowers, or else she was just too excited to get out to really notice them, Arnie reasoned with himself. He placed the flowers on a table near the front door and closed it. Using a key he had to her apartment, he locked it.
            “It makes you look gorgeous.” He walked down the apartment steps. Arnie actually felt a bit of indifference toward her light blue dress.
            “Don’t flatter me,” she laughed. “I need a night out on the town. I had a rough day at work.” She ran her hand through her hair. Lauren usually worked the night shift at the hotel, as Arnie did. “I can’t believe they ordered me to come in this morning.”
            “You shouldn’t let the managers push you around. I was actually thinking we would go somewhere nicer tonight,” Arnie said as he opened the passenger door. Lauren sat down.
            Arnie got in on the other side, and then started his car up.
            “So where are we going?” Lauren asked.
            “I was thinking the Spaghetti Warehouse,” Arnie said.
            “Oh, really? But there are so many carbs there… I’m not sure if I want to do that.”
            “They have salads.” Lauren was very self-conscious about her health, and Arnie tried to appreciate that about her. He looked down at his gut as he shifted the car in reverse and put his feet on the gas and released the clutch.


            He kept fiddling with the ring box in his pocket the entire time they ate dinner. Lauren finally relented to the Spaghetti Warehouse because of the classic Cesar salad, while Arnie ordered the five layer lasagna and the sampler plate. Lauren kept giving him confused looks every time he fiddled with something in his pocket, and it made Arnie more nervous about popping the question.
            “So…” Lauren started.
            “Ah, hell, I’m just gonna ask.” Arnie pulled out the ring and opened it. It was a nice ring, with a large diamond in the middle. He had placed a down payment on it. The engagement ring was the first part of the whole set, as the wedding ring sat in place underneath it. It was something Cora recommended when he started looking since that was what Steve bought for her when they got married. “Lauren, will you marry me?”
            Arnie froze up while he held the ring up to her. Lauren dropped her salad fork, staring at the ring. For a moment he thought she was going to say no until she snatched it up out of the box. She held it between her index finger and thumb, her eyes wide as she looked at it.
            “Oh—Arnie, of course I will!”

            After dinner, Arnie and Lauren decided to go back to his house to spend some time together. Lauren couldn’t wait to tell Mom, and Arnie tried to tell her she also had Bingo and a senior citizen’s meeting, but he decided to go home anyway.
            Lauren held his hand as they walked up the steps to his bedroom.
            “You’d have to move out of your Mom’s house,” she said, wrapping one of her arms around Arnie’s tighter.
            “I’ve got some money saved, but not much. I thought maybe we could rent a while.”
            Arnie knew Lauren would want him to move out of his Mom’s after they got married. Thinking about it now, though, made his hands sweat. He wasn’t sure how his mother would do if he left her alone.
            Lauren shook her head. “I hate renting. I just throw so much money with rent.”
            “Mom wouldn’t mind letting us stay here. She doesn’t make me pay rent.”
            “I really, really don’t want to live with your Mom, Arnie.”
            Arnie opened his bedroom door. His light was still on as he ended up rushing around to get ready before his date with Lauren. He got nervous right after his talk with Mom. The Colt was still on his bed.
            “Oh, you have that out,” Lauren said as she walked into his bedroom. She sat on a chair toward the end of the bed which sat next to the wall.
            Arnie quickly picked up the gun and shut the barrel. He picked up the bore brush kit and closed it and shoved the bullets into his nightstand. “It was a gift from my brother.”
            “Yeah… isn’t it old? Worth something?” Lauren sat up straighter in his chair. Arnie sat on his bed and placed the gun on the nightstand on top of the bore brush kit.
            “Yeah. It is. Did I ever tell you the story Steve told me when he got it?”
            “No, you didn’t.” Lauren stood and sat next to him on the bed. She placed her hand on Arnie’s knee. “Could you?”
            “Steve was always full of it. I think you would’ve liked him. He said he got this gun from John Wayne.”
            “No way!” Lauren laughed loudly. She startled Arnie when she slapped him on the shoulder. “So it’s old then?”
            “It’s an 1873 Colt Peacemaker,” Arnie said. “Classic.” 
            “But isn’t John Wayne dead?” Lauren asked.
            “Yes. Steve didn’t pay attention to that stuff. John Wayne may have owned it,” Arnie picked up the gun and showed it to her. “Steve probably just found it in a pawn shop, and the person who had it didn’t realize what it was worth.”
            “That’s so fascinating. How much do you think it’s worth?”
            Arnie shrugged, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the way Lauren was phrasing her questions. People had asked him how much the gun was worth before, after Steve gave it to him. For a while, Arnie did let people see the gun. That was before Steve died.
            “It’s invaluable.”
            “Maybe we could sell it—and the Corvette. Can you imagine what kind of money we could get toward the wedding and a down payment for a house?”
            Arnie suddenly stood up. “You know I worked on that car with Steve.”
            “You really need to let his death go. It’s pathetic.”
            Arnie’s back stiffened. He felt some of his hair stand on the back of his neck.
            “Are you really telling me you want me to sell the two things I have left from my brother?”
            “Oh, come on, you have pictures of him or—“
            “I’m not marrying you!” Arnie hated raising his voice, but he didn’t know any other way to grab Lauren’s attention. “Give me the ring back.”
            “What?” Lauren’s eyes widened. “I’m trying to be practical.”
            “Cora and Mom want me to be on my own but they’d never suggest I get rid of my gun and car. We’ve been together a year and you haven’t realized that?”
            “I’m not Cora.” Lauren stood up and crossed her arms.
            “Yeah, you sure aren’t. Give me the ring back.”
            “Fine! Whatever.” Lauren yanked the ring from her hand. “It looks stupid anyway.” She threw it at his chest. Her heels clacked against the floor as she walked down the hallway.
            Arnie was breathing hard. He didn’t know when he started breathing hard. He looked at the gun. Had he really just broken up with Lauren?
            He needed to go somewhere.


            It was only 9:30. He could go see Cora. Arnie hoped the kids were still up—Zack, Cora’s youngest, looked just like Steve.
            He knocked on Cora’s door. Children squealed and a dog barked as the dead bolt on the front door unlocked.
            “Arnie? I thought you were on a date with Lauren?” Cora asked. She had her hair piled atop her head in a messy pony tail. Kyle, three years old, stood next to her. He smiled wide when he looked up at Arnie.
            “Could I spend time with you and the kids?” Arnie asked Cora.
            “No problem! Are you okay? Did she say no?” Cora asked. She stepped out of the way to let Arnie inside.
            “She just wasn’t what I thought I wanted.” Arnie bent down and immediately picked up Kyle, hugging him tightly as his other nephew and niece attached themselves to his pant leg.
            “I—what do you want? Because, Arnie, I think I’m going to follow Steve’s dream and move out of the city.”
            Arnie looked up at Cora sharply, a deep, painful burn suddenly building in his chest.
            “How long have you been thinking about doing this?” he asked.
            “I’ve been thinking about it for a long time… I don’t want you to say anything to Nadine! She’d be so mad… but I think I might have found a job down there. I started looking when you told me you wanted to get married to Lauren.”
            Arnie looked down at Kyle, still clinging to his pants.
            “You can’t move, Cora, what about the kids?”
            “I really think they are going to do better. The job I found, it’s working with horses, and—“
            “It’s an incredibly stupid idea!” Arnie said, raising his voice. He raised his voice so loud, Kyle jumped back, tears welling up in his eyes. His niece stood there too, startled.
            “Um, kids,” Cora said. She knealt down to them, and gave them a hug and a kiss each. “Can you go up to bed? Mommy will be upstairs in few minutes to tuck you into bed.”
            “Okay, mommy,” Arnie’s niece said. “I love you, uncle Arnie! Night!”
            “Night, kids…” Arnie almost couldn’t get the words out. He almost couldn’t look at his brother’s kids.
            “Arnie, I don’t know what is going on with you… and you can stay the night, but I think you need to call Lauren in the morning and try to fix things with her. If I want to move with my kids, I will, because I want to have the chance to give them a better life, something I don’t think I can give them in the city. You can sleep in the basement, in on Steve’s old pull out sofa.”
            Arnie wasn’t sure what to say to his sister in law. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing there, trying to be there for his dead brother’s kids and his dead brother’s wife.
            “Cora, haven’t you ever thought about us—“

            “Don’t, Arnie!” Her voice broke. “Just don’t. Good night, I have to tuck the kids in.”The Gun or the Girl
Year 1992
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
            Arnie sat alone in his bedroom with his 1873 Colt Peacemaker. He loved this gun because it was one of the first repeating handguns ever made. He hadn’t paid much attention to it in a while so he needed to clean it.
            The Colt was very special to Arnie because his brother, Steve, gave it to him in when they were in their late twenties. Steve learned to drive a truck when he was eighteen. It was while he was working in New York that he got the gun. 
            “You won’t believe it!” Steve said enthusiastically, walking in the door. Arnie hadn’t seen him in a week. His fly away auburn hair frizzed under his baseball cap and he hadn’t shaved since December. “John Wayne gave this to me! I ran into him while I was dropping off a shipment near Broadway.”
            Steve proudly opened a cardboard box to reveal the gun.
            “I love you deeply,” Arnie said, putting his tools down near the couch. “But you’re full of shit.”
            Steve always loved telling stories to his wife, Cora. Cora was a good natured girl that humored his brother when she shouldn’t have. It was that, and her passion for animals, that caused Steve to fall in love with her when he was twenty-five. They met in a pet store where she helped the owner raise baby parrots.
            Cora was on the verge of getting evicted. Steve felt sorry for her. They got pregnant with their daughter after three months.
            Cora refused to marry Steve at first, and that caused a huge rift between her and their Mom. Arnie tried talking Mom into trying to accept Cora into the family but she just wouldn’t do it, even after Steve and Cora declared a common law marriage. It was in ’85, when Steve and Cora had a real wedding after their son was born, that Mom finally gave in and accepted her into the family.
Steve told exaggerated stories.
Cora loved his story about a “street fight” he got into once.
“So me, and my buddy Jimmy, start rough housing.”
Arnie rolled his eyes.
It was a sunny afternoon on the Fourth of July. They had the family barbeque planned for months in Mom’s back yard. The smell of grilled hamburger and chicken wafted through the air, making his mouth water. Cora bounced the baby on her knee while she smiled wide and gave her husband her full attention.
“Jimmy, the knuckle head that he is, gets pissed off and starts a real fight after I mention he owes me twenty bucks for cigarettes two weeks ago. He punched me in the gut too hard, I get pissed off, grab Jimmy by the shoulders, and bite his ear off!”
“Ew, Steve!” Cora gasped, her eyebrows scrunching together in disgust.
Arnie burst out laughing despite how distractingly beautiful Cora was with her perm, long brown hair, and very little make up.
“You are so full of shit,” he said. “You were fifteen. Me and Mom broke that fight up and Jimmy busted you really good in the jaw.”
Steve glared at him.
In 1990, Steve died in that fucking rig. Two months after Cora and Steve had a second boy.
It wasn’t just the gun Steve gave Arnie which he cherished. Two years before Steve died, they had some work they had to do on the car after another driver flew past him by running a red light. They got it running while they were teenagers, but Steve often helped Arnie give it tune ups.
“I think you fried your clutch,” Steve said after a few minutes of failing to get the car to move.
“Great. I can’t believe that moron pulled in front of me.”
“I can’t believe you tried to stop in the wrong gear,” Steve said. “This car is a baby. I told you it was when I decided you’d be the one to keep it.”
Arnie threw a greasy towel at his head. “You gave it to me because it’s too flashy for Cora and the kids.”
“Are you kidding me? Cora loves this car. She’s always asking me to get it from you so we can go for a drive.”
Arnie wanted to answer his brother, but he shook head at Steve and threw a greasy rag at his brother’s head. “Well, while we’ve got it open, does it need anything else?”
Rag still on his head, Steve fiddled around some more with the engine.
“Oil change. Your spark plugs look rough. Did you let Mom drive o Vegas again?”
“Well, she couldn’t take the station wagon.”
Steve shook his head and threw the rag off his head on the side of the car. “Arnie, come on. I’m going to have to take the car from you. I go out of town for two weeks and everything on the car starts falling apart. I didn’t almost get my jaw unhinged trying to get Jimmy to stop being an ass and help us just so you could let it rot like this.”
“Calm down. It just needs a little maintenance. What’s wrong?”
Steve sighed and closed the hood of the car.
“I’m just tired of being on the road all the time.” Steve walked over to the driver’s door and leaned against the car, as Arnie had been the entire time. The hood was up and one of the tires were also flat from the near-accident which caused Arnie to need Steve in the first place. I haven’t told Cora, but I really think I want to stop driving a truck.”
“What would you do? You used to love driving trucks.”
“Yeah, Arnie… but driving all the time takes time away from Cora and the kids. You’re there a lot for them but it doesn’t feel right to have my brother be there for my wife when I can’t be.” Steve’s hair was still long, and he brushed it out of his face. As adults, both Arnie and Steve kept mustaches and had gained a little weight, Arnie more so than Steve.
Arnie clapped his brother on the back.
“Steve, you know I love Cora. You couldn’t have chosen a better girl. But you need to think this through before you quit your job.”
“I don’t want to raise my family in the city. I think I want to move out of Philly.”
“What?” Arnie wasn’t sure if he was stunned or not.
“Yeah… Cora always talks about how she used to live in in the south a year before she decided she wanted to move up north. We don’t want the kids in a city environment. I want to raise them on home cooking and—“
“Steve, I love you, but good luck getting that past Mom.”
            Steve had always been a big dreamer. Arnie just never thought he would dream about something so different.
“I’m just thinking about it. It doesn’t mean I’m going to,” Steve said.
“If you moved down there, I’d never be able to keep this car running,” Arnie said.
Steve laughed and pulled out a cigarette. “Yeah, I know Arnie. That’s why I’m thinking the whole moving idea is a bad idea, even though I want to do what Cora wants.”
            Arnie took in a deep breath and set about cleaning the pistol, inspecting the bores. They were tarnished and rough-looking. The entire gun looked dull and neglected. His cleaning kit sat on his bed, each bore brush and cleaning cloth neatly lined up against his pillows.
            He couldn’t help but remember his brother. Losing Steve hit everyone hard when it happened four years ago, but Arnie had to stop and remember to breathe slowly as he picked up a bore brush and inserted it into the gun. He hadn’t touched it since Steve’s funeral.
            “Arnie?”
            Arnie sighed when his mother knocked on his bedroom door. Mom was in her early sixties and sounded like a fishwife when she raised her voice. Arnie frequently had to endure her nagging. Mom let him live at home. Arnie didn’t have to pay rent, but he still insisted on helping her pay the utilities. Mom owned some property, and she rented it out to roomers who sometimes came to her for cigarettes and beer. Some of the guys she let rent from her weren’t the best people, and so Arnie wanted to live with her at home so he could make sure she was safe. Mom always refused to work a practical job because she didn’t have the skills. She inherited the property she owned from Arnie and Steve’s dad once he died. They lost their dad when they were young.
            “Arnie? Come out here for a minute. Lauren called.”
            “All right, I’m coming, Mom.” Arnie sat on his bed for a moment longer and studied the gun before he closed the barrel and set it on his nightstand.
            “Well, hurry! I haven’t got all day. I have to go over to the house in Doylestown and ask the tenants there why they haven’t paid rent yet this month.”
            Breathing heavily, Arnie stretched, popping his back. He unchained his door and opened it. “I told her I’d call her when I was ready.”
            “What have you been doing?” Mom looked Arnie up and down.
            Arnie didn’t think of himself as much to look at. He was slightly overweight. His belly hung over his jeans. He scratched the bald spot on the crown of his head as he looked at Mom.
            “I, uh, got out the Colt.” Arnie shuffled his bare feet on the cool tile of the floor.
“Oh, you brought that out?” Mom put her hand on Arnie’s shoulder. “Are you okay? It’s getting pretty close to January.”
“I’m fine.” Arnie shrugged Mom’s hand off his shoulder. “Is Lauren still on the phone?”
            “No,” his mother said. She brushed her short curly hair behind her ears. “Where are you taking her tonight?”
            “I don’t know; somewhere fancier than the usual diner.”
            Arnie’s mother took in a sharp breath. “Are you finally going to propose?” A wide smile spread on her face. Her hand shot to his arm. “It’s about time!”
            “It’s just her birthday. I might just decide I don’t want to drive far and take her to the Spaghetti Warehouse.” Arnie thought about shaking Mom’s hand off, but he didn’t.
            Arnie felt like he was in a good place with his girlfriend. Cora introduced Arnie to Lauren at a Tupperware party. Cora temporarily sold it in an attempt to have something to do a year after Steve died. Neither one of the girls were the slight bit interested in Tupperware now. Cora focused more on painting, her real passion, and Lauren was attending community college while she worked as a night desk receptionist at the hotel Arnie worked at as an electrician. Arnie stalled starting a family after Steve died. Maybe it was because he was afraid the same thing would happen to his family if he got married—he’d have a few good years with his wife, have a few kids, and then die on them.
            “That’s still a really nice restaurant.” Except, Arnie thought to himself, his entire family ate there regularly. “It’s about time you give me grand babies. Have you both gotten more serious?”
            Arnie thought about that for a moment. He peaked back into his room and looked at the black box which sat next to his Peacemaker. He didn’t have his bedroom door opened so he could hide the box. If Mom saw it, she’d become so excited, Arnie would be afraid she would have a heart attack. “Ah, I like her.”
            “Oh! That reminds me,” Mom said. “Cora is bringing the kids over this weekend.”
            “Aw,” Arnie said. “I have to work a little overtime at the hotel this weekend.”
            Arnie thought he sometimes worked too much, but his relationship with Lauren wasn’t what suffered. His relationship with Cora and his niece and nephews suffered. He tried to spend time with them as much as possible. The kids were the closet thing Arnie had left of Steve, besides the Colt, and it broke his heart they didn’t have a father.
            “It’s okay.” His mother pushed her glasses onto her face. “Well, I’ll leave you to get ready. Lauren asked me to tell you to make sure you pick her up at seven-thirty.”
            Arnie told her he would get her at nine. He looked at his watch. It was six-thirty. Lauren consistently tried to move time around on him. She had a controlling personality, and most of the time Arnie let it go. He was nowhere near ready to go out, though. He needed to shower and finish cleaning the gun.
            “All right,” he said to his mother. He kissed her on the cheek. “Why are you going to collect rent so late?”
            His mother flashed a semi-evil half-grin. “Don’t ask, dear.”
            Arnie didn’t ask.
            Thirty minutes later, Arnie had on a nice t-shirt and slacks. He had the box in his right pocket along with his keys and wallet. His mother’s house was large. With three floors and five bedrooms, and a large basement and attic, it was sometimes an arduous walk from one end of the house to the other.
            Arnie was almost out the door when the phone which sat on a table near the front door started to ring.
            “Hello?”
            “Arnie! I was hoping to catch Nadine,” Cora said through the phone.
            “Mom’s gone out. I think she’s breaking into a tenant’s house to collect some rent collateral.”
            “Again? I hope she doesn’t hurt herself. Shouldn’t you be out there with her?”
            Arnie laughed. Mom only broke into a tenant’s house once when she thought they brought drugs into the place. She didn’t care about privacy laws, and that sometimes got her into trouble. It was another reason Arnie still lived with her. He didn’t want to control Mom, but he also didn’t want her to do something stupid.
“She probably is just issuing an eviction notice.” Arnie said. “Is everything okay? I’m supposed to head over to Lauren’s.”
            “Oh! Is it the big night?”
            Arnie stuck his hand into his pocket and fingered the box. He hadn’t meant to tell Cora he wanted to propose to Lauren.
            “Arnie?”
            “I’m still here, Cora.”
            “It’s okay. I know it’s the big night. You don’t have to say anything, because I know it must be scaring the hell out of you. Just take a deep breath before you do it and don’t worry—you aren’t making a mistake!”
            “Thanks, Cora.” Arnie said. He heaved a huge sigh of relief. “I needed to hear that.”
            “I’m already mom and dad. I can be sister and brother too.”
            Arnie laughed. “Okay. I have to go. I might not be around to see the kids this weekend, but love you all.”
            “Good luck! Love you too.”
            Arnie hung up the phone.

            “I thought you were NEVER going to get here!” Lauren said as soon as Arnie knocked on her door.
            He looked at the flowers in his hand; a dozen roses. Lauren didn’t even give the flowers a second thought as she flitted past him. Arnie caught a whiff of her vanilla perfume and coughed. Lauren always wore too much. Her tall black heels clacked noisily down her apartment steps as she walked to his red ’75 Corvette convertible.
            Arnie loved his gun and his car, even though it wasn’t his only one. Arnie also owned a Chevy Malibu he drove for every-day errands. When Arnie was sixteen, and Steve was fourteen, Steve helped Arnie restore the Corvette after they found it in a junk yard. The radiator was busted in from a telephone pole, the owner of the junkyard said, and it hadn’t been touched since. The hood had been a crumpled mess. For a year and a half the boys scraped and begged for money from Mom so they could work on it. Arnie got his first job working at a diner down the street to earn cash too. Arnie would never forget Steve’s face when they finally started the engine. It purred. Steve immediately wanted to try to repair another car. Maybe that was why Steve ended up driving a truck.
            “Oh, this car?” More heel clacking. “I love this one!”
            Lauren must not really like flowers, or else she was just too excited to get out to really notice them, Arnie reasoned with himself. He placed the flowers on a table near the front door and closed it. Using a key he had to her apartment, he locked it.
            “It makes you look gorgeous.” He walked down the apartment steps. Arnie actually felt a bit of indifference toward her light blue dress.
            “Don’t flatter me,” she laughed. “I need a night out on the town. I had a rough day at work.” She ran her hand through her hair. Lauren usually worked the night shift at the hotel, as Arnie did. “I can’t believe they ordered me to come in this morning.”
            “You shouldn’t let the managers push you around. I was actually thinking we would go somewhere nicer tonight,” Arnie said as he opened the passenger door. Lauren sat down.
            Arnie got in on the other side, and then started his car up.
            “So where are we going?” Lauren asked.
            “I was thinking the Spaghetti Warehouse,” Arnie said.
            “Oh, really? But there are so many carbs there… I’m not sure if I want to do that.”
            “They have salads.” Lauren was very self-conscious about her health, and Arnie tried to appreciate that about her. He looked down at his gut as he shifted the car in reverse and put his feet on the gas and released the clutch.


            He kept fiddling with the ring box in his pocket the entire time they ate dinner. Lauren finally relented to the Spaghetti Warehouse because of the classic Cesar salad, while Arnie ordered the five layer lasagna and the sampler plate. Lauren kept giving him confused looks every time he fiddled with something in his pocket, and it made Arnie more nervous about popping the question.
            “So…” Lauren started.
            “Ah, hell, I’m just gonna ask.” Arnie pulled out the ring and opened it. It was a nice ring, with a large diamond in the middle. He had placed a down payment on it. The engagement ring was the first part of the whole set, as the wedding ring sat in place underneath it. It was something Cora recommended when he started looking since that was what Steve bought for her when they got married. “Lauren, will you marry me?”
            Arnie froze up while he held the ring up to her. Lauren dropped her salad fork, staring at the ring. For a moment he thought she was going to say no until she snatched it up out of the box. She held it between her index finger and thumb, her eyes wide as she looked at it.
            “Oh—Arnie, of course I will!”

            After dinner, Arnie and Lauren decided to go back to his house to spend some time together. Lauren couldn’t wait to tell Mom, and Arnie tried to tell her she also had Bingo and a senior citizen’s meeting, but he decided to go home anyway.
            Lauren held his hand as they walked up the steps to his bedroom.
            “You’d have to move out of your Mom’s house,” she said, wrapping one of her arms around Arnie’s tighter.
            “I’ve got some money saved, but not much. I thought maybe we could rent a while.”
            Arnie knew Lauren would want him to move out of his Mom’s after they got married. Thinking about it now, though, made his hands sweat. He wasn’t sure how his mother would do if he left her alone.
            Lauren shook her head. “I hate renting. I just throw so much money with rent.”
            “Mom wouldn’t mind letting us stay here. She doesn’t make me pay rent.”
            “I really, really don’t want to live with your Mom, Arnie.”
            Arnie opened his bedroom door. His light was still on as he ended up rushing around to get ready before his date with Lauren. He got nervous right after his talk with Mom. The Colt was still on his bed.
            “Oh, you have that out,” Lauren said as she walked into his bedroom. She sat on a chair toward the end of the bed which sat next to the wall.
            Arnie quickly picked up the gun and shut the barrel. He picked up the bore brush kit and closed it and shoved the bullets into his nightstand. “It was a gift from my brother.”
            “Yeah… isn’t it old? Worth something?” Lauren sat up straighter in his chair. Arnie sat on his bed and placed the gun on the nightstand on top of the bore brush kit.
            “Yeah. It is. Did I ever tell you the story Steve told me when he got it?”
            “No, you didn’t.” Lauren stood and sat next to him on the bed. She placed her hand on Arnie’s knee. “Could you?”
            “Steve was always full of it. I think you would’ve liked him. He said he got this gun from John Wayne.”
            “No way!” Lauren laughed loudly. She startled Arnie when she slapped him on the shoulder. “So it’s old then?”
            “It’s an 1873 Colt Peacemaker,” Arnie said. “Classic.” 
            “But isn’t John Wayne dead?” Lauren asked.
            “Yes. Steve didn’t pay attention to that stuff. John Wayne may have owned it,” Arnie picked up the gun and showed it to her. “Steve probably just found it in a pawn shop, and the person who had it didn’t realize what it was worth.”
            “That’s so fascinating. How much do you think it’s worth?”
            Arnie shrugged, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the way Lauren was phrasing her questions. People had asked him how much the gun was worth before, after Steve gave it to him. For a while, Arnie did let people see the gun. That was before Steve died.
            “It’s invaluable.”
            “Maybe we could sell it—and the Corvette. Can you imagine what kind of money we could get toward the wedding and a down payment for a house?”
            Arnie suddenly stood up. “You know I worked on that car with Steve.”
            “You really need to let his death go. It’s pathetic.”
            Arnie’s back stiffened. He felt some of his hair stand on the back of his neck.
            “Are you really telling me you want me to sell the two things I have left from my brother?”
            “Oh, come on, you have pictures of him or—“
            “I’m not marrying you!” Arnie hated raising his voice, but he didn’t know any other way to grab Lauren’s attention. “Give me the ring back.”
            “What?” Lauren’s eyes widened. “I’m trying to be practical.”
            “Cora and Mom want me to be on my own but they’d never suggest I get rid of my gun and car. We’ve been together a year and you haven’t realized that?”
            “I’m not Cora.” Lauren stood up and crossed her arms.
            “Yeah, you sure aren’t. Give me the ring back.”
            “Fine! Whatever.” Lauren yanked the ring from her hand. “It looks stupid anyway.” She threw it at his chest. Her heels clacked against the floor as she walked down the hallway.
            Arnie was breathing hard. He didn’t know when he started breathing hard. He looked at the gun. Had he really just broken up with Lauren?
            He needed to go somewhere.


            It was only 9:30. He could go see Cora. Arnie hoped the kids were still up—Zack, Cora’s youngest, looked just like Steve.
            He knocked on Cora’s door. Children squealed and a dog barked as the dead bolt on the front door unlocked.
            “Arnie? I thought you were on a date with Lauren?” Cora asked. She had her hair piled atop her head in a messy pony tail. Kyle, three years old, stood next to her. He smiled wide when he looked up at Arnie.
            “Could I spend time with you and the kids?” Arnie asked Cora.
            “No problem! Are you okay? Did she say no?” Cora asked. She stepped out of the way to let Arnie inside.
            “She just wasn’t what I thought I wanted.” Arnie bent down and immediately picked up Kyle, hugging him tightly as his other nephew and niece attached themselves to his pant leg.
            “I—what do you want? Because, Arnie, I think I’m going to follow Steve’s dream and move out of the city.”
            Arnie looked up at Cora sharply, a deep, painful burn suddenly building in his chest.
            “How long have you been thinking about doing this?” he asked.
            “I’ve been thinking about it for a long time… I don’t want you to say anything to Nadine! She’d be so mad… but I think I might have found a job down there. I started looking when you told me you wanted to get married to Lauren.”
            Arnie looked down at Kyle, still clinging to his pants.
            “You can’t move, Cora, what about the kids?”
            “I really think they are going to do better. The job I found, it’s working with horses, and—“
            “It’s an incredibly stupid idea!” Arnie said, raising his voice. He raised his voice so loud, Kyle jumped back, tears welling up in his eyes. His niece stood there too, startled.
            “Um, kids,” Cora said. She knealt down to them, and gave them a hug and a kiss each. “Can you go up to bed? Mommy will be upstairs in few minutes to tuck you into bed.”
            “Okay, mommy,” Arnie’s niece said. “I love you, uncle Arnie! Night!”
            “Night, kids…” Arnie almost couldn’t get the words out. He almost couldn’t look at his brother’s kids.
            “Arnie, I don’t know what is going on with you… and you can stay the night, but I think you need to call Lauren in the morning and try to fix things with her. If I want to move with my kids, I will, because I want to have the chance to give them a better life, something I don’t think I can give them in the city. You can sleep in the basement, in on Steve’s old pull out sofa.”
            Arnie wasn’t sure what to say to his sister in law. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing there, trying to be there for his dead brother’s kids and his dead brother’s wife.
            “Cora, haven’t you ever thought about us—“
            “Don’t, Arnie!” Her voice broke. “Just don’t. Good night, I have to tuck the kids in.”

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Plotting vs Not

So... if you know me personally, you'll realize I suck at planning ahead when it comes to my personal life. If it's at work, like... say when I had my last call center job? Organized as could be. Mostly. Because I worked with other people and if I wasn't organized or didn't know where a script was, I could've messed up majorly. I also have a bad habit of shopping on a whim and I'm a big gadget whore (and end up doing things like selling my tablet to a friend).

I also randomly make up my mind about moving states and hop on planes that week, apparently.

Anyway, that's not what I'm actually going to write about. I think that every writer actually has trouble trying to decide if they need to fully outline a novel, or a series if that's their thing, before they actually start writing the story. I hear this over and over again and I hear it apparently makes it easier to write. I can't plot out and fully organize myself worth a damn. I've tried. I can't tell you how many notebooks I have lying around with half-assed plot and character outlines. And the notes on my phone--there are like thirty of them (I just looked) and I think I haven't ever looked at them again. I found some note the other day about Head Over Heart and completely smacked myself on the forehead because it was an idea for a really good scene and I forgot about it. It's in the story now.

So, I think I'm going to start making lists.

I'm a HUGE list maker. I've, at least, gotten into the habit of keeping a notebook nearby because sometimes if a scene won't come out on the computer, I can write it on paper. And my handwriting is pretty--besides the point. And I'm a little bit of a story boarder--I've done that before. It helps me to have something where I can actually draw or scribble and erase (though I only did this once for NaNoWriMo in 2013 and haven't since). It doesn't help that sometimes I find the list like three days later but I've been doing that more lately when I start getting ideas. I have a bad habit of writing more than one novel at a time and lists just make it easier. It feels more natural for me to not have a big long description of a character, and to just let them develop, than to sit there and fill out worksheets and blah blah blah (I've tried it all). And notes. I'm a HUGE note taker. I found one of my old college notebooks shortly before I moved. It had a whole semester's worth of notes from my Renaissance class I took in 2012 before I graduated from college. I've found lately that actually making side notes on a piece of paper while I'm rereading a chapter is more effective then telling myself what needs to happen later.

My point?

Creativity is weird, college note taking is a hard habit to kick, and I need to become more organized. Ugh. :P

Monday, February 9, 2015

Morning Babbling

It's 7 AM and I just figured out I can make posts from my iPhone. Yeah. I'm a little slow on the technology uptake sometimes but I've also had limited internet access up until this point. And you know those "Damn you, autocorrect!" funnies? Yeeaaaaaaah.... My phone is horrible for doing that shit to me too. My computer is in the living room right now and I'm too lazy to get it.

Yesterday-and keep in mind I've had my current computer almost a year now and went through them like crazy in my early twenties because I was just that horrible to my laptops-I figured out Microsoft Word 2013 lets me pin important documents. I think I sat there like twenty minutes pinning all the important docs for my Over and Cheap series. I found this acceptable rather than filling out job applications because hey, I'm trying to make a living as a writer too (kidding! Still filled out like five).

About that. The writer thing. I'm going to be blogging a lot more now that I figured out my google chrome app will take me right to my blog. I'm also spending the down time of zero employment to write as fast as I can. My fairy god writer has an accountability group on Facebook where we post  how much we want to write each day. It's been really useful because I've been in a huge writing rut since September and haven't been able to kick it I until now.

I know. Call the wahhhhhhbulance. It's just difficult to get into a habit of writing every day when you break that habit. And my autocrit subscription expired and I don't think I'm going to renew it. It's great if you absolutely have to edit by yourself but I have two amazing girls who do that for me. One of them wants to edit professionally and is going to school for it so I've told her to use editing for me on her resume when she looks for a job outside of school.  Apparently I can tweak settings in word to find all my bad habits too so I'm going to to try that for the next novel. I've actually set a deadline of March 8th for myself to finish the next one. I also might play with that feature since I'm helping a new friend with worksheets for her nephew. They're Russian and she's totally awesome.  Going over all the basic grammar in English is a nice refresher and she gets awesome worksheets for her nephew. It's a win for both of us. 

Where was I? I'm glad I'm getting all this rambling out now...Oh! The accountability group! Yeah. Some people in there are producing a novel a month and it makes me feel like a slacker when I'm not writing a little. Like a major slacker. Like I only wrote 1599 words last night and there was someone else who blew past 4000. It's got me writing again and thank fuck, pardon my language, because I was starting to worry there for a while.

I've spent 30 minutes almost rambling. I think I'm good. Lmao, I'll post something more organized next time.

Friday, February 6, 2015

Gettin' Back in that Writing Groove


Here, have a small teaser from Head Over Heart, Chapter Four! Thanks, Taaroko, for having a look at it for me! (She's one of my friends from the fanfiction.net community :) )

Aidan

“Don’t say that,” I said. “Mom had him busy with the horses. They had to make sure everything would be secure for the night so they would be warm.”
Cynthia shrugged. “I know.” She pulled her phone from her pocket and looked at the time. “I don’t want Lee to drive in this weather anyway. He doesn’t know how to drive the truck and his car is just as bad as yours is in snow.”
Something about the way she said that made me scoff. “My Nova can handle the snow fine.”
Cynthia raised an eyebrow. “I seem to remember a time when you backed into a ditch sometime about two years ago and had to use a shovel and a wooden block to get the car out.”
I rolled my eyes.
I hated it when she mentioned that. It was still embarrassing as fuck to this day.
“We won’t mention that,” I said. “Especially if you don’t want to walk to class.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” she said.
“You know I will.”                                       
“You’re a dick. That’s why things would have never worked with us.”
I knew she was joking but I couldn’t help but frown at her. Cyn huffed in response and I pulled out of the parking lot.
“Change in subject,” I said. “We’ve both been busy the past couple of weeks. How are things going with your new roommate?”
“It’s okay. She’s definitely not Briana. She leaves her shampoo everywhere—”
I braked too hard.
The truck slid a couple feet but I managed to stop it just in time so we didn’t pull onto the main road.
“Holy shit!” Cyn grabbed for the dashboard. “Be careful. I’d like to get to class in one piece!”
“Sorry,” I said, a little shaken too. “Don’t mention Briana out of the blue.”
“It’s been over two months,” she said. “You’re still not over her?”
“What am I supposed to say to that? She moved for no reason, so yeah, I am having trouble dealing because I don’t know if she’s okay or not.”
“How do you think I feel about it? I don’t know where she is either. Fuck, I still have her stupid futon and a couple other things Nikki didn’t bother to pack up. She won’t tell me anything either.”
“I gave up a while ago trying to get Nikki to tell me anything. She’s keeping her mouth sealed shut. I just wish I knew if it was something that I did wrong.”
“It’s nothing,” Cynthia said.
I felt a huge wave of confusion and suspicion wash through me. “What is that supposed to mean?”
I was driving and the roads hadn’t been salted yet so I didn’t chance a look at her. The thing about dating someone as long as I did, I knew she tensed up beside me.
“It has to mean something. Do you know anything about why Bri left?”
I chanced a look at her.
“Really. I don’t know anything, Aidan.” She released a nervous laugh. “Why would I know anything? She moved back to Kentucky. That’s the last I heard about her. Who knows why she decided to move suddenly; I’m betting it was the wild hair she forgot to pull out of her ass.”
“Cyn,” I scolded. “Come on, don’t be like that.”
“Well I’m sorry, I’m tired of watching you mope around. You won’t go on a date with my new roommate, and honestly I don’t blame you, but you should still try going on a date with one of my friends.”
“I’m not going to let you do that to me again. It never turns out well.”
Cynthia huffed. “You’re so difficult.”
“I don’t want to date, period.”
“No, you just want to pout and become an asshole since you aren’t getting laid. Bitching at me for not being able to carry two bales of hay like some kind of she-Hulk? Seriously, Aidan?”
“You normally don’t have a problem with it.”
“Not when it’s warm! When it’s freezing, I’d like to, you know, be sure I’m not going to slip and fall on my ass.”
“And I don’t need to get laid.”
“Yes you do! I have a friend who really wants to meet you.”
“You’ve fixed me up before and it didn’t work, Cynthia. I think it will be healthy for me to be single for a while. I’m trusting my gut.”
Cynthia made a little indignant huff and then turned my radio down. “Just because one girl took off you aren’t going to give another one a chance? Briana left in November, Aidan. It’s been long enough. I think you need at least a rebound fuck.”
“Cynthia,” I said. “I really don’t want to go on a date with anyone.”
“She’s got red hair and she used to be a cheerleader.”
Stop light. I groaned. Cynthia knew I had a fucking soft spot for red heads. That’s the reason my interested in Briana piqued in the beginning. Honestly I had thought about dating for a while but knew I wasn’t ready.
“She can bend her legs way far back behind her head and—”
“You’re not going to get me to take a girl out. I’m done letting you fix me up.”
“Don’t be a stubborn ass! I’ve talked about you constantly and I haven’t really known this girl too long so I kind of think she doesn’t count on with me fixing you up with one of my friends thing.”
“You’re talking to a girl who you’re not really close with about me? Great, Cyn. I’m feeling like you’re trying to pimp me out again.”
“I am doing no such thing.”
“That’s exactly what you did with Briana. And Jamie way before we ever met her, even though I didn’t go out with her because I was still trying to get used to the whole open relationship concept.”
“Come on,” Cyn said in a whiny voice. “I can’t date like I used to so I have to vicariously live through you.”

Thursday, January 22, 2015

Crazy Things

This is a rare I'm ever going to really make about my personal life.

I did one of the craziest things I've ever done before.

I quit my job, bought a plane ticket, and asked my brother and his girlfriend to watch my rabbits until my friend can pick them up in about a month... then I hopped on a plane.

I know I haven't been writing a lot lately, or very active on my social media stuff. It's because I got a new job--a good job--that had health insurance and everything before I upped and left it so I could move.

But why leave Kentucky?

That job I left? I decided, on a whim, to apply with my ex-boyfriend, who I was spending a lot of time with even though we'd broken up. We were trying to stay friends, but we did break up. I should know from experience that it's hard to remain friends with an ex. A lot of what happened is too private to divulge, and I won't be using names. People who know me know what happened-and friends, please if you're reading this, keep names out of it, because I know a lot of you are pissed off. I don't even care if my ex reads this. I need to vent.

I ran from a broken heart.

Getting fed up with the bullshit I had to go through in Kentucky was a HUGE deciding factor too.

I was tired of not having a car, of worrying about getting to work, of not having my own apartment, of kinda almost getting isolated from my actual friends because vehicles broke or we lived too far apart. I know this is my blog about writing, but this is writing. It's nonfiction. It's something I never in a million years thought I'd have to write, or openly admit to online. I've written a few short essays before, a couple things here or there for a creative writing class when I was still a student at EKU, but I've not thought about writing about myself very often when really I should do it more. Writing about yourself allows you to express things you wouldn't normally be able to express. It gives you ideas later for when you're actually ready to work on your fiction, if you are a fiction writer. I hate diaries, and private journals. I might write one or two things in a notebook then lose it.

Some of you, if you are reading this from my Twitter or Facebook, may have seen a few pictures I've posted recently. I moved to Alexandria, Virginia, with a good friend I knew in college. He knew me before I was married. He's been asking me to move, or at least visit, him in Virginia for almost three years. Actually it might have been longer than that since I almost moved I mistakenly got back into a relationship with my ex-husband before he ever asked me to marry him in 2010, but anyway, that's another very long, very private story I won't go into in a blog to strangers.

It's silly... and maybe a little trivial, but how else am I going to get experience as a writer if I don't let myself fuck up once in a while?

We're all human, and we all make mistakes. Mine is just that I fall in love too hard and too fast with the wrong men. Ha, it's probably why I'm such an angsty romance writer.

Funnily enough my best friend also expressed the same sentiment about two months ago. I guess it's why she's my best friend. She also encouraged me to get the hell out of Kentucky. I'm pretty sure her and the roomie are secretly doing happy dances.

The good thing? I already love this city (there I go, falling in love easy again). I can't wait to get Thumper and Winnie home. My life is already a bit more stable because I've got my own place even though I miss my friends and everyone like crazy. I've never walked into a bar before and been offered a job as a waitress. I've never gotten emails from a job hunting site asking me if I want to set up an interview. None of that would have happened in Kentucky, although my previous supervisor did tell me that if I'm ever living there again that I'm welcome to come back to the company because I did so well. I'm thinking I may be able to publish my next novel sometime close to spring. I guess the whole point of me writing this is to point out that you shouldn't be afraid to write what you feel or think, and I've been holding a lot of that in lately. I've not been expressing myself enough and it started to suffocate me. I probably would've fizzled out eventually on the writing thing anyway had I stayed in one place for too long. Write what you know, right? Well, I've definitely got a few ideas now. I'm excited, finally, even though I'm trying to keep my head up because I want to keep second guessing myself. I just thought my readers--and the few of you following me who are curious--should know what's going on. I'm still serious about publishing and trying to get myself back on the right track for that. I will, too. Get myself on the right track.

Besides, there are so many things in Alexandria it's crazy. It's a beautiful city. I have like four blisters but really, it's beautiful. I might have to write about it more at some point... just a bit worried about talking about myself too much, ha! I think I was afraid to move, and that's why I didn't do it years ago. Sometimes you need to do it though--just take that leap, like I did when I published Cheap Guitars and Head Over Hoof. This is a bigger leap. Actually, it was a flight, but we don't have to get technical. :P