Outside

Lucy hesitated as she reached for the doorknob. It wasn’t that she was a homebody or phobic about the citizens of the world beyond her front door; it was, however, the first time since primary school that she’d left the house unescorted during the day.

Open the door. You’re being irrational. Open the door.

And she did.

Lucy stepped out on to the expansive wrap-around porch and was shocked by the silence of things. No crickets chirped in celebration of the on coming dew. No nighthawks bleating to each other in the pursuit of moths. No drag queens screaming at each other as they wandered out of the colorful local bars. No cicada winding down his song as the temperature dipped in the witching hours.

The day world was full of sun and the rumble of traffic from a nearby freeway.

Lucy wanted to turn around and go back inside.

Only one day. It is only one day.

Shrimp

Marc watched her nimble fingers at work: mincing garlic, chopping parsley and de-veining the shrimp. She possessed the quick and economical movements of a practiced chef. Aislyn place the fresh herbs into the melted but not boiling butter and olive oil mixture in the copper bottom skillet. Marc watched her hands as though she were a culinary magician poised to pull an herb roasted rabbit out of the seasoned air.

“How do you feel about Chardonnay?” Aislyn asked, holding up a bottle of deep green glass with a hand written label across its front.

“Nothing by Night Train in my house growing up.”

“You’ll love this,” she said adding a splash of the wine to the skillet.

“Where did you learn to cook like this?”

Aislyn smiled at the amazement in his voice. “I slept with many, many wealthy men and acquired a taste for the finer things.”

“Seriously?”

“I dated a lot in college and most of them were from well-to-do families. The men that found me attractive usually had savior complexes and endless resources. At the time, the only way I thought I could pay them back was by blowing their mind or other things.” Aislyn added the peeled and de-veined shrimp into the bubbling oil and shrimp.

“You sure do seize the moment.”

“If you can’t be honest about the past, how can you be honest about your prospects for the future?”

Marc rubbed his eyes and peered into his soda, watching the carbonated bubbles float to the top and burst in celebration. He wanted to be that jubilant.

Marc couldn’t meet her eyes as she flipped the shrimp in the skillet, using her wrist to keep the oil, herbs, and crustaceans in constant movement.

“What about those who don’t want to be honest about the past?” he asked.

Bad Night

Brown flecks mingled with thick yellow bile in the white porcelain bowl. Her stomach undulated with the tides rolling in the basin as she held auburn curls out of her face.

Alfred whined and yelped from outside the door. After four years of living with this regimen, Alfred still hadn’t gotten over the shock. He paced and pawed at the door each night she

She flushed the toilet watching dried blood and vital potassium disappear. The only light illuminating the antiseptic bathroom was the blue glow of an Indiglo alarm clock. 10:34. Aislin’s stomach was faltering and twelve minutes behind schedule.

Cool water felt delicious against her face. She was thankful that it hadn’t been a bad night. The force of the past had pressed stomach acid through delicate nasal passages.

Hula Hoop

Aislyn stopped atop Monarch Pass to let Horatio run around and toilet. This was easily the worst driving of the entire trip. Monarch was often closed due to heavy snow or rock slides. Aislyn always stopped here to stretch and laugh at the pedestrian crossing sign with a hula hoop painted across the man’s middle. The first time Aislyn saw the sign she thought it was a comment on how pedestrian the pedestrian signs are like they should be doing something other than walking. A friend, however, explained that it was a reference to a favorite jam band that had aided in reviving the popularity of the hula hoop, but Aislyn was pleased to see the mundane sign infused with humor.

No Phone

"You don't wear a watch?" Riley asked.

"Or carry a cell phone," Brigid said.

"How do people get a hold of you?" Riley asked.

"You don't. If I want to talk to you, I'll find you." Brigid picked the lint off Riley's armchair, frowning at each thread and hair. "I had a cell phone once. My agent kept calling me on my vacation so I tossed the phone into the ocean. I may have killed a few fish, but I'll never have another cell phone."

Research

"There's a pub two blocks from my house in Colorado that has the country's greatest buffalo burger. I know because I've done the research."

Happy Pixi Day!

My new Palm Pixi arrives today! Hooray for mobile blogging.

Not Broken

"When I was with him, I didn't feel broken. I'd lived through so many tragedies. I'd loved men but it was never the kind of love that puts a smile on my face day after day," Aislyn said into her beer as she traced the peeling label on the Fat Tire bottle.

"I've always felt like something was wrong with me, like I was lacking that part of my psychology which motivates the soul to seek love. I prayed for love with little faith that God would provide. When I met Riley, I began hoping for all those things I never dared to dream."

"What the hell happened? Why did you leave Iowa?"

"There is no redemption in the past only pain and confusion."

Photo: Ophelias-Overdose