tellmeastorymutha

Flash #21

2007-10-01T14:45:00.000-07:00

Ellen pulls over fast and then hears a crunch beneath her car. She opens her door and sees a crumpled folding chair pinned under her tire. A man bursts out of the house along side her.
“What the fuck is your problem?! Get the fuck outta that spot! I shoveled it now get the fuck out.”
Ellen hadn’t even seen the traditional winter parking space marker until it was too late. She thinks to apologize, but sees the veins now bulging from the guy’s neck and decides to get out of there. She backs over the chair again, accompanied by the howl of the guy and then takes off again, turning down the first one way in her favor. She’s looking to take a second right, when she sees it: Mac’s house. She has turned down his street. Ellen slows at his address, and does not ask herself why. When there are no parking spaces in front, she pulls down the small side driveway. She’s out of the car door and running up the back stairs. She is banging on Mac’s back door and then banging on it again.
He appears in the window, looking white as a ghost, a shirt hastily buttoned. Mac swings open the door.
“What?” he says breathlessly.
It is the first time she realizes she is dizzy. “I can’t breathe,” Ellen whispers.
Mac pulls her towards him and walks her swiftly to his front room with a very strong arm holding her up. He guides her to a couch.
“I –“ she stammers. But he tells her, “Hold on.”
Mac goes into the kitchen and comes back with a brown paper bag. “Breath into it slowly” he says, holding it up to her mouth. Ellen takes it and does as she is told. Mac leaves her side and them comes back with a glass of water. It takes a while for her breathing to get more normal, but it comes. Ellen puts the bag down and drinks back the water.
“Okay?” he asks, “Better?”
She nods.
“Can you tell me what’s going on?”
She nods again. “Charlie,” is what comes out of her mouth.
Mac’s eyes widen. “Yeah…”
She doesn’t want to say it out loud, so she looks at Mac instead. His white button down shirt hangs crooked because of the first missed button and she can see the edge of a white bandage on his right shoulder. It makes a shot of pain go through her own right shoulder.
“He’s having an affair,” she whispers.
Mac’s mouth opens in surprise.
“How –”
“He just told me. Bing made him.”
“Ellen,” Mac says softly, touching her arm. It is the first time she notices she still has her coat on. Ellen unzips and riggles free from it. Then bows her head forward as huge hot tears start falling from her eyes.
“Holy Shit,” he whispers and rubs her shoulder a little. “Did you know…I mean did you think Charlie had a thing for guys?”
She pulls from him quickly. “Guys?”
Mac looks stunned. “You said Bing, right? Bing made him tell…”
Ellen finally gets it and lets out a crazy kind of laugh. “No! Bing found out! It wasn’t with him. It’s Stephanie.”
Mac raises an eyebrow, requesting more information.
“You know, Stephanie,” Ellen rushes on, still wiping tears and now sniffing at a running nose. “She was at the Christmas party. Skinny. Big printed silk scarf around her neck.”
A look of recognition comes over Mac’s face. “Pointy face?” he asks scowling.
Ellen laughs again, even though she is a mess of tears and snot now. “I need a tissue!” she exclaims.
Mac leans behind him and gets a box of tissues. “Here,” he offers, smiling a little.
Ellen blows her nose, wipes her cheeks, and laughs again. “Could you call her Pointy-Face or something worse from now on. I have the feeling it might help.”
Mac nods and then adjusts so that he is kneeling in front of her.
Suddenly, the rest is on her – the affair, her girls – and the tears are back again.
Mac moves a little closer and puts his arms out to her gently. Ellen is careful to lean her head on his unhurt shoulder and sobs. She can smell Ivory soap on his skin and the scratch of his unshaven cheek. It sends electricity through her body. Although it is pleasure coursing through her, Ellen pulls away as if receiving a shock. “Wait a minute,” she says.
Mac looks at her, concerned and sad, but Ellen doesn’t have anything else to say. She keeps looking at him and his eyes shine golden beneath the green. Ellen closes her eyes and puts her hands over her face. “Oh fuck,” she whispers to herself.
Mac puts his hand on her bare arm and she loves it too much. Her skin prickles with goosebumps and Ellen gently pulls it away.
“I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “What can…I want to help.”
Ellen clamps her eyes shut tighter. Why is this happening now? she begs to know. Why do I feel like this now? Ellen opens her eyes again as if awaiting a new vision of Mac, one that does not turn her on so completely. One that makes her feel like something other than a nineteen-year-old virgin. But there he is again, goddamn it, and all she can think to do is to kiss that mouth.
“Have you ever wanted to be with me Mac?” she hears herself say, and it makes her start to tremble.
Mac’s eyes widen and he sits back on his heels.
“I haven’t done anything about it because of my marriage,” she stumbles. Her mouth feels out of her control. She’s frantic to stop the words and for a moment bites her bottom lip so hard that she can feel her pulse against her tongue. It doesn’t stop her. “But I just found out I don’t have a marriage anymore.”
Mac’s mouth opens slightly, as if he’s going to say something, but nothing comes out.
Ellen shifts in her chair with no plan but to get closer to him. She can’t help but keep looking at his lips. Her heart is pounding painfully against the base of her throat. She puts a hand out to his arm. She touches his wrist, then grips it more firmly.
“Ellen don’t,” he finally whispers, putting his hand up in the space between them. “Don’t talk like this now. You’ll regret it.”
It stings of rejection and Ellen pulls back. It sends humiliation crashing over her like a wave. Charlie is cheating on her. Stephanie is after her children. Mac does not want her. The walls are pulling so much closer and she is starting to doubt which way is up.
“I regret what a fucking idiot I’ve been,” she says. “Charlie’s been sleeping with her for months Mac! And I didn’t know! I feel like some stupid fucking housewife. And now…this.”
She watches as he closes his eyes and swallows. She wants to smell the Ivory soap again, touch that unshaven cheek.
“What’s this?” he asks. It is the first time Ellen hears his voice go thin, as if there isn’t enough breath to support it. She moves forward again, slowly and as she draws closer, only a few inches between them now, Ellen can feel his tension like an electric fence around them.
“Please,” she whispers and it makes her insides come alive. The unmistakable feeling of sexual thrill rushes through her.
Mac shakes his head. “It’s a mistake,” he says but she can hear his own racing heart in the unevenness of his breath.
“I don’t care.”

Flash #20

2007-10-01T14:26:00.000-07:00

Ellen has already crossed the Longfellow bridge before she looks in the rear view mirror and sees the car seats still in the back, the car seats Charlie will need if he is going to pick the girls up from day care. With a string of curses she is acknowledges she is closer to Charlie's studio than the daycare center so she heads towards A street.
Busy wrestling the car seats up the old factory steps, she is leaning against his studio door catching her breath before she hears yelling coming from inside. Goosebumps instantly rise up on her arms and neck. Inexplicably, she is sure Charlie is in danger and pulls the door open without knocking. Her appearance in the doorway makes Bing and Charlie fall silent, but everything about their posture, how close they are standing, make it clear that they are in the middle of an argument.
“Is everything alright?” she asks.
The two men stare at her for a moment in disbelief, but then Bing breaks the silence. “What’s the answer, Charlie?” he demands.
She notices that the color is leaving her husbands face and that he might even be in physical pain. It makes a flash of panic fly through her
“What happened?” Ellen whispers.
“If you don’t tell her,” Bing suddenly yells,“I will! You call my bluff and see what happens.”
“Fuck you Bing,” Charlie yells back. “Get out of here!”
“No!” Bing spits back, leaning forward hard. “I’m staying until I hear you say it.”
There is a silence in which the only sound Ellen can hear is a voice, perhaps her own and in her head, pleading, Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t.
Charlie turns away from Bing and faces her. “Bing wants me to tell you…that I’m involved with someone.”
Air escapes her lungs. “What did he just say?” Ellen asks Bing.
“He’s having an affair, Ellen,” Bing reports, his voice suddenly thin.
Ellen notices that the feeling is leaving her fingertips.
“And you knew?” she stumbles. In her head she has an image of flipping puzzle pieces to their picture side. She has to see all the picture sides before she can assemble them.
He nods, looking close to tears.
“How long?” she asks Bing.
“I found out for sure last week,” he replies, and then dips his head, “but I’ve been suspecting it for a while.”
“Huh,” is all she seems to be able to say in response. She finally turns to Charlie who looks positively grey now.
“So…how long Charlie?” she asks.
“A while,” Charlie answers quietly.
“Oh for chrissake!” Bing explodes. “Don’t make her ask it again! How long?!”
“Bing why the fuck are you still here?” Charlie shouts back.
“I’m not!” Bing yells. “I’m outta here!”
“I hope you don’t think you’ve got a job to come back to,” Charlie hisses as Bing grabs his jacket.
“Oh no!” Bing shrieks in mock horror. “Not work for the great Charlie Marris?” He heads towards the door. “I wouldn’t have pushed this hard if I had wanted to work for you anymore. You fucking cliche,” he mutters. “I’m sorry Ellen,” he says as he walks past her.
Ellen lets out a laugh to everyone’s surprise, including her own.
“Don’t apologize to me, Bing,” she adds.
He looks at her one more time before quickly slipping out the door.
She is acutely aware of being alone with Charlie now. Her hands are completely numb. Ellen knows she should have something in her head to say for such an occasion, but nothing will come. She looks at Charlie for some kind of cue. His arms are crossed in front of his chest and his expression has changed. The color is returning to his cheeks and it is hard to miss the fact that he doesn’t look worried. He doesn’t even look sorry. It occurs to her that he looks as if he could be waiting for a bus.
“How long Charlie,” she finally asks.
“Since October,” he says.
OctoberNovemberDecemberJanuaryFebruary, she thinks. Five months?
“You’re good,” she says.
“What?”
Ellen forces her shoulders to shrug. “Bing found out last week. I didn’t know,” she says. “You’re good at lying.”
Charlie shifts his weight and puffs out a breath.
Ellen honestly doesn’t know what to do and her brain won’t help her. She doesn’t know what to ask next -- although she is sure there is some question she should nail him with. She watches Charlie instead, who continues to shift his weight back and forth. Thank goodness he has the decency to show a little uneasiness.
And then the question finally comes to her. Such an epiphany, she let out a sound of astonishment before asking it. “Oh! Who is it?”
Charlie hesitates, but only for a moment.
“Stephanie,” he answers.
“Stephanie? Stephanie who is married to Jerry?” she asks.
Charlie nods.
Ellen takes a breath and doesn’t seem able to exhale. Her heart is racing, but she realizes it has never slowed since she walked in from the hall.
Stephanie, she thinks. She was in my house at the Christmas party. She ate my food. She sat her ass down on my furniture. Ellen can picture her with Jerry and their little boy, Marco.
“Does Jerry know?” she asks.
“No.”
What does he have against Jerry? He’s such a nice guy. What does he have against me for that matter? This is a bizarre dream.
“So, this is going on?” Ellen says still pushing her brain to limp to life. “I mean, I don’t hear you saying it’s over.”
Charlie sighs again and looks completely inconvenienced by the question.
“I don’t know Ellen,” he answers wearily. “I suppose it’s still going on.”
“What does that mean?” she demands, some fight finally starting to creep through the shock.
“I mean – I’m sure this will change everything. Jerry will need to know too now.”
“Oh Jesus Charlie!” she yells. “Sorry to put a cramp in your sex life. I mean – fuck – it is his wife you’re screwing! It’s the least you owe the guy, don’t you think?”
Charlie runs his hands through his hair and then over his face. He turns his back to her and wraps his arms around his torso.
“I’m sure you won’t believe me, but I didn’t intend to hurt you.”
“You told me in January that you didn’t want to lose me!”
“And I don’t," he says. "I mean, truth be told…this isn’t even about you.”
“Ooo let me guess,” she hisses, “It’s about you.”
“Yes…it is.”
“What a fucking shock! Everything’s about you, you Shit! I didn’t intend to hurt
you? Bing’s right – you’re a fucking cliche!”
“Okay, Okay...take your swings – I expected it.”
“Expected it? How about deserve it Charlie? God don’t fucking patronize me on
top of this! Don’t you dare!”
“What do you want me to say?”
“How about: I’m sorry – forgive me – I’ll never see her again! What do you think,
you Shit?”
“Everyone stumbles sometime Ellen.," he says, turning finally to face her. "You’re not perfect yourself.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“You and Mac,” he shoots at her. “You think I don’t know about that?”
“You don’t know anything! I haven’t done anything with Mac.”
“Oh come on Ellen. I’ve seen the way you look at him and where the hell have you been the last couple of Saturdays? Fluffing up his pillow?”

Flash #19

2007-10-01T14:13:00.000-07:00

Jo is paying bills at the kitchen table when there’s a knock at her back door. She looks up in time to see the ring with black onyx on the middle finger retreating from the glass: Mac’s hand, his father’s ring. It makes her chest feel a little tight, but there’s no way she’s giving him any indication of that.
“It’s open,” she calls.
“Jesus Jo,” he says, before he even steps through the doorway. “What the fuck you got your back door unlocked for?” Jo watches as Mac stamps the dirty snow and sand from his feet.
“Easy Killer,” she says as if his comment doesn’t piss her off. What does he think – she’s some kind of moron? “I just took the trash out back and I’m sittin right here.”
Mac shakes his head. He hasn’t even really looked at her yet. “Still…not smart.”
“Yes sir,” she mutters. “What’s your story?”
Mac finally lifts his face to look her way. His eyes seem a little sunken to her. It makes her wonder how much painkiller he’s still on.
“I wanted to talk to ya – if you’ve got a second.”
Jo nods. “What about?” she asks, immediately embarrassed by her stab at nonchalance. Her heart is beating at the base of her throat as if she’s fourteen and he’s asked her to dance. She’s been waiting for him to want to talk, but it is hard to admit, even in the privacy of her own brain, that she wants him to talk about the night before all this happened. The night she thought things might be starting up again.
“About Sheila,” he says, unzipping his jacket. “She around? Coast clear?”
It’s beyond embarrassment now. She takes a deep breath, letting the feeling of rejection really take hold.
You bastard, she thinks, but carefully vacuums the emotion from her face to a neutral expression.
“Yep, coast clear,” Jo says, shoving a kitchen chair his way with her foot. It takes a lot not to send it flying across the room. “Have a seat.”
Mac sits. “She told me last Saturday that she quit basketball.”
I should be happy he gives a shit about his daughter, she thinks, already reprimanding herself. “Yep she did.”
His forehead bunches sourly. “And that doesn’t mean anything to you?” he asks.
Jo doesn’t care for the edge of accusation. She feels like launching into him, telling him the real reason, but she reigns herself in. That would be about her own shit and he really doesn’t look like he’s doing so well.
“It’s only basketball,” she answers.
Mac leans closer to her. “Bullshit Jo. She’s been playin for years. Always loved it. Now you let her just walk away without a reason?”
Her heart isn’t beating like a lovesick girl anymore.
“Just because she didn’t give you a reason,” Jo shoots back, “Doesn’t mean she’s got no reason.”
Mac sits back a little, studies her. His eyes make Jo even more aggravated. The greenness of them is ridiculous. They could be candy for Chrissake. Nobody’s eyes are that color.
“She’s keeping a secret?” he asks, sounding a little wounded whether he means for Jo to hear it or not.
She nods.
“Why?”
“Why do you think?” Jo answers with more heat than she thinks might be fair, but – God, how can he be so dumb?
Mac looks genuinely bewildered now and it makes her feel a little guilty. She makes herself switch gears to a quieter voice.
“It’s because of what happened to you Mac,” she explains.
“What? What about it?”
Jo shakes her head. She knows he honestly hasn’t thought of this and she knows it’s going to hurt to hear it.
“She’s having a hard time with it. That’s easy to understand, right? I mean, you’re her daddy.”
Jo can see his eyes fill with tears immediately. He makes no move to stop them and it makes her anxious. He finally blinks them away.
“I don’t...” he starts, but his voice is heavy with emotion. He stops to clear his throat and tries again. “But what has that got to do with her playing basketball?”
“She says she just doesn’t care about it anymore. That it’s no fun. She wants to stick home some more.”The kitchen takes on their silence; the only sound is the refrigerator buzzing on. Jo lets her mind go to what she thought this conversation was going to be about: the night of the Christmas party. It had been a long time since it had happened, but it hadn’t been the first time since the divorce. Every so often, when neither was seeing anyone very special, it seemed they would end up together for a short while. No plans would be made. No attempts at talking about how they felt for one another. No big explanations about why it happened or went back underground. But at least they had acknowledged it the other times, joked about it a little. That was one of the differences this time: Mac hadn’t called her or said a thing about it after the fact. Then, the stabbing, the hospital. It was if it hadn’t happened at all.

Flash #18

2007-10-01T13:44:00.000-07:00

Mac is sitting on the couch in his mother’s living room and the upholstery is the brown corduroy it used to be. He is watching the TV, I Dream of Ginny, and the details of the show are suddenly engrossing. Is Major Healey in the Air Force or just a part of NASA? Why isn’t he in Vietnam? Is it because he’s an astronaut? Then the bang of the back door slamming makes Mac jump. It is followed by a sound of alarm from his mother in the kitchen. “Don’t!” she says, “Sit down first! Don’t touch him!”
Mac's father, a big man looking even bigger, charges into the room forcefully making Mac's heart race; his fingernails raking the corduroy for comfort.
“Did you do it?” his father yells.
Mac finds no air in his lungs with which to make a sound.
“Tell me!” his father demands, taking another stride towards his son.
“Let him answer you!” his mother yells, now standing in the kitchen doorway.
“Did what, Dad?” Mac says, but it comes out as a raspy whisper.
“Joanne’s father just told me! How long were you gonna try and keep it a secret?!”
“Dad…” Mac stumbles breathlessly.
“You disgrace this family,” his father roars, advancing, “and then don’t have the guts to tell me what you’ve done!” He can see the veins bulging from his father’s neck.
Mac opens his mouth to speak but it is immediately shut by a hard blow across his face.

Mac wakes up with his hand touching his cheek. His heart is hammering, the presence of his father is so rich that for a second he swears he can smell him.
He wasn’t even alive when I got Jo pregnant, he tells himself. But tears spring to his eyes and in a second he is crying as if he has just heard that his father is gone. Mac roles over and buries his face in the pillow. He shuts his eyes tight but there is no stopping it. The memory is like a roller coaster ride; he is strapped in and the assent has begun.
It had happened in that beautiful summer twilight. He had just gotten stoned with some friends and was shooting hoops. His little brother had come running down the block full speed, arms windmilling as he tried to slow down at the court. Mac was so high he laughed out loud at the sight of it, but when he looked again he could see that Neil was as white as a sheet.
“What the hell?” Mac had said, trying to pull some toughness and authority into his 15-year-old tone. Truth was the look on Neil’s face had scared the shit out of him.
“You gotta come now!” his brother had gasped. “A cop is at the house and he just told Ma that Dad’s dead!”
Shot. Cops said it was a mugging – that maybe his father had refused to give up his wallet. Who knows why some crack head might do it? Mac didn’t spend a long time trying to figure that part out. All he knew was that his father had been killed on his way home from work – that he was gone, not coming back. His father hadn’t been there to catch on that girls were being taken up to the empty second floor apartment, or to straighten out Neil who was fucking up in school every five minutes, or to get the news that Mac, golden boy next to his screw-up brother, got Jo pregnant – a girl who was the daughter of his father and mother’s friends – but for whom Mac had had no real feelings.
It was not his own father, but Jo’s who had jacked his 17-year-old ass up against the living room wall.
“In memory of your father,” he had said, two inches from Mac’s face, “and because your mother has been through enough…I won’t kill you with my bare hands. But you’ll marry her, MacNamara. Do you hear me?”
And marry her he did.

Flash #17

2007-02-03T22:03:00.000-08:00

Mac is on his way home from the market when old Sam calls out to him from in front of Barry’s at the corner.
“I seen your brother the other day,” he says.
Mac waits until he is at Sam’s side to reply. “Oh yeah?” he says. “Was he in a squad car?”
Sam wheezes out a laugh, but then goes back to a serious expression. “I told him he didn’t look too good.”
Mac just nods, but he can feel an all too familiar hollowness in his gut.
“I told him he’s disgracing your father lookin like that,” Sam goes on, and his face gets some color in it.
Mac pats the old guy on the shoulder. “Don’t get your blood pressure up, Sammy.”
“Well God damn it,” he mutters. “Kid acts like he was raised on the streets. And look at you, just the opposite. Doing good for poor unfortunate souls. You should have been a priest, Mac.”
“Well then, what’s the old bible saying? I am not my brother’s keeper?”
“But your father would have –“
“I know, Sam, I know,” Mac says gently, patting his shoulder again. “Only thing is, Neil listened to my father and he’s never listened to me. If I told him the sky was up he’d go and check for himself.”
They laugh a little at that and then Mac turns to go. “Thanks for the head’s up there Sam. I appreciate it.”
“You know I got your back,” Sam says waving. “Your brother’s too…the little shit.”
Mac shifts his grocery bag to the other hand, feels it in his shoulder, switches back and looks up the block with a sigh. It’s hard to see in the twilight, but he thinks he recognizes a guy across the street. Mac stops to consider how he knows him: A grade-school buddy, somebody from the Center? And then it comes to him. He crosses West Broadway quickly and meets the guy in front of Donnelly’s Hardware.
“Hey,” he says with a smile. “Charlie Marris, right?”
The guy looks suspicious for a second, like he might not answer, but then says, “Yeah.”
It is clear to him that Charlie doesn't remember him. “I’m Mac,” he says, “I work with Ellen.”
Charlie nods slightly and puts his hand on the Hardware store’s door handle. “Ellen’s talked about you,” he concedes without a lot of feeling.
Mac looks back at him and gets a cold vibe. Charlie’s looking at him like he’s seeing nothing. It pisses Mac off, but he decides to give Charlie a grin. “What you doin in my neighborhood?” he asks.
“You live here?” Charlie says.
“My whole life.”
Charlie looks at him as if he’s trying to add that up to something he should give a shit about. “I’ve got a studio around the corner,” he finally says, “On A Street.”
“That’s right. You do some kinda art, right?” Mac asks. He knows exactly what Charlie does, but he might as well make in twist and anyway -- he is starting to enjoy the fact that he is much bigger than Charlie and wants to continue looking down at him.
“Sculpture,” Charlie says, opening the store’s door but neither of them moves.
As they continue to look at each other, Mac gets the feeling that Charlie might be uncomfortable. It gives him a surprising amount of satisfaction.
“Hey!” a voice calls and it breaks the tension. Mac gives Charlie one more grin before leaning into the store.
“Hey Billy!” Mac calls to his friend behind the counter.
“Mac!” Billy calls back. “Long time, no see. It’s cold out there – shut the door.”
Mac walks in and Charlie follows.
“Where’s your father?” Mac asks shaking Billy’s hand.
“Ah, you know, old man is working less these days.”
“Good for him,” Mac confirms with a nod. “He’s earned it.”
Billy is looking beyond Mac’s shoulder, so he turns. Charlie looks back at them with a somewhat blank expression.
“Billy this is Charlie,” he offers.
“Nice to meet ya,” Billy tosses.
“Yeah,” Charlie says. “Drill bits? Where can I find ‘em?”
“Aisle right beyond this one,” Billy points.
As Charlie walks away, Billy rolls his eyes and mutters, “You’re welcome.”
He leans across the counter so Mac leans in closer too.
“How do you know him?” Billy whispers, tossing his head in Charlie’s direction.
“Lady I work with, he’s her husband.”

Billy shakes his head. “Been comin in here for years, never gives ya the time of day.”
“Is that so?” Mac asks. “Damn shame because his wife’s a doll.”
“Oh yeah?” Billy asks, raising up onto an elbow and looking more interested.
“Oh yeah. Total doll,” Mac says. “And two little girls -- the baby is as adorable as they come.”
“Ah,” Billy grins. “And how’s you’re little baby?”
“You’ve seen her in the neighborhood, I’m sure.”
“Turning into quite a beauty there Mac,” Billy laughs and then punches Mac in the arm.
“Shit, don’t I know it,” Mac says, shaking his head.
Charlie comes around the corner with a drill bit package and puts it on the counter. Something about the way he tosses his hair out of his eyes before reaching for his wallet bugs the shit out of Mac.
“I was just telling Billy here about Ellen,” he says before he can edit himself.
Charlie flicks his eyes at him before going back to his cash. “Oh yeah?” he says blandly.
“Hear she’s a real doll,” Billy adds, not reaching for the money Charlie is handing him.
Charlie looks Billy’s way, then Mac’s. He puts the money down on the counter saying, “She sure is.”

Flash #16

2007-02-03T21:58:00.000-08:00

Charlie watches as Theresa lowers herself back into the water. She lies still with all of her body beneath the surface, her hair fanning out all around her head.
“Look Daddy,” she says with excited eyes.
“I’m a mermaid!”Charlie smiles and nods enthusiastically.
“Did you have a good day?” Theresa asks.
Charlie shakes his head a little. My God, the day I’ve had, he thinks as a part of it flashes through him.
“No?” Theresa asks looking concerned, “Did you have a bad day?”
“No, it was a fine day T. How ‘bout you?”
“My yogurt exploded in my lunchbox,” she declares dramatically. “It spoiled everything inside. But Todd made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”
“Who’s Todd?” Charlie asks distractedly.
“Todd, Daddy!” she responds impatiently. “He’s my teacher!”
“Oh right,” he answers, but can’t really remember ever meeting Todd. He wonders if maybe he should walk all the way in on the mornings he drops Theresa off to her classroom. “That was nice of him.”
“Yep. And you know what else? There are crocodiles bigger than this whole bathtub.”
Charlie laughs. Nothing like a 4 year-old’s stream of consciousness.
“What did you do today, Daddy?” she asks.
The morning’s experience flashes through him again just as Theresa makes a big splash. Water hits Charlie in the eye and just as he wipes his face on his shirtsleeve, he is suddenly plunged even farther into the morning. His shirt smells of her. A tingle of panic lights in him and he pulls it over his head quickly.
Theresa is inspecting him. “Are you taking a bath next?” she asks.
“Yep,” he answers. “So finish up. Daddy’s turn.”
Inwardly, he breathes a sigh of relief. He is glad he picked that up quick enough, but honestly, how could he be so dumb? He will have to be more careful from now on. If he had hugged Ellen or one of his daughters, any one of them would have asked what the smell of that unfamiliar perfume was. Anyone of them would have known right away it wasn’t Ellen’s. Take a shower as soon as you get home, he resolves. After all, this is no one’s business but his own.

Flash #15

2007-02-03T21:47:00.000-08:00

Ellen has invited Mac to Charlie's group show opening.

Ellen watches Mac from across the room. He is pausing in front of some pieces, but only a couple. The rest he strolls by slowly and takes sips from a small plastic cup of wine. She notices that his white dress shirt has been ironed and wonders if he did it…or his mother…or maybe Jo. An unanticipated ping of jealousy makes Ellen shake her head in disgust at herself, and almost as a reflex, she glances around for Charlie. He is standing near his largest sculpture, talking to someone with Theresa at his side. Charlie’s hand rests on Theresa’s hair while she hugs his leg. It’s really a lovely scene and she wonders why it doesn’t warm her heart.
“You know I just noticed something.”
Ellen startles at the sound of Mac’s voice suddenly at her side. She laughs and grabs his arm.
“I didn’t see you come in,” she says and wonders immediately why she lied. “I’m glad you came out!” she tacks on and then worries it sounded too over the top.
Mac smiles at her warmly and it flusters her more. Ellen remembers what startled her in the first place.
“Oh – but what were you saying? What did you notice?”
Mac turns to face Charlie’s sculptures.
“None of them have heads,” he says.
Ellen lets her eyes scan all three pieces…All nudes…No heads.
“And they’re all women…right?” Mac adds.
“Yeah.”

“Doesn’t that disturb you?” he asks, taking a drink of his wine. “I mean, it bothers me and I’m not even his wife.”

Flash #14

2007-01-15T17:12:00.000-08:00

Ellen has come to visit Mac at his apartment.

“Okay if I come in?” she asks.
“Ah geez, sorry,” Mac says honestly embarrassed that he's left her standing in the doorway. “Come in.”
Ellen sheds her coat and boots and walks into the living room.
“There’s soda bread and coffee in the kitchen,” he tells her. “Sheila has it all going.”
Ellen’s face falls a bit as she turns to Mac.
“Oh, see?” she says, “I’m interrupting your visit with her. That’s why she left mad. Oh Mac, I should go.”
“No!” he says too quickly, but he is encouraged when it makes Ellen smile.
“How about until she is done with shoveling the steps,” she offers.
“Fair enough.”
Ellen gets a slice of bread and joins him on the coach.
“I wanted to come and see how you are,” she tells him, crossing her legs underneath her. She looks cozy on his couch, like she belongs there, and it makes Mac’s head swim a little.
“Oh, you know – fine,” he says, unsure if it sounds believable.
“Justine told me she was gonna call. Did you talk to her?”
Mac nods and takes a long draw from his coffee to stall for more of an answer.
“What did she say about coming back?” Ellen asks, “I mean, I know she wants you to take your time…”
“But you know Justine. She can be pretty relentless too. Trying to social work me.”
Ellen smiles, “What did she do?”
“Set a date, Sugar,” Mac says, imitating Justine’s light Southern cadence that seems to come out especially when she is trying to be soothing. “It’ll be good for you.”
“She’s trying to mother you a bit,” Ellen offers.
“I got enough mothers,” Mac replies, a little sharper in tone than he meant.
Ellen’s expression changes. “Ouch,” she says.
“No. I didn’t mean you!” Mac says and nothing could be truer. “I just can’t seem to do it – set a date I mean, and the more she pushes the weirder I feel.”
“I don’t think she means to do that, Mac.”
He nods a reply, then looks across the couch at her. He drinks his coffee instead of reaching out to touch her knee, only inches away. “How’s the girls?” he asks.
“Oh fine, I guess. They’re with Charlie right now. He’s working a lot these days and the girls are pretty put out about it. Well, Theresa at least. She is at that age when it is all about Daddy,” she tells him. “How ‘bout you and Sheila? I bet she’s crazy about you.”
Surprisingly, it makes heat rush to Mac’s cheeks. “Well, she’s an only child and only really remembers us being divorced. I guess I spoiled her some – so who wouldn’t want to go to Daddy’s when he hasn’t got a clue how to say no?”
It makes Ellen laugh. “I bet Jo loved that. She seems like she takes absolutely no shit.”
It feels confusing to him, the compartments of his life leaking into one another. “You met Jo too?”
“Mac,” she says, still smiling but looking a little concerned, “You told me to call her when it happened.”
It, Mac thinks. Let’s just use that name from now on. No need to say stabbing ever again.
“Right,” he says, but it comes out sounding like a whisper.
Without any warning, Ellen put her hand on his leg and makes all the blood in his body rush that exact spot. He can’t lift his eyes to look at her.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, but he can hear the swell of emotion behind it. “It’s so confusing to me when I try and remember," she tells him. "It must be a hundred times worse for you.”
“Really, I just remember that it hurt,” he says, trying to muster a smart-ass grin.
“If you want to talk about it, I will,” she says. “I mean…I can’t really talk to anyone else about it. Nobody really gets it. I mean…how I feel.”
“How do you feel?” he asks right away.
Ellen looks him in the eye, her hand still touching him. “Lost,” she says. “Scared.”
Mac feels tears well him and the shudder of panic. He swallows it all back and looks down. They both hear Sheila close the door downstairs and head up the steps.
“I better go,” Ellen says, getting up and quickly wiping her eyes.
“You don’t have to,” he says.
Ellen smiles warmly at him. “She wants her time with you and I don’t blame her.”
It makes Mac’s heart feel as if it might fight its way out of his rib cage.
"Come back some time," he tells her.

Flash #13

2006-12-15T18:21:00.000-08:00

An introduction to Sheila, Mac's sixteen year old daughter.

“Hey Daddy,” Sheila calls sunnily.
She is wearing a tiny fake-fur-trimmed parka. The girl can’t help the fact that there are big-chested women on both sides of her family, but she doesn’t have to amp the whole thing along by wearing that silly excuse for a coat that zips right below her bust line. The jeans she is wearing are a little on the tight side for Mac’s liking as well, and the snow boots look as if they couldn’t keep anything warm or dry. But he keeps his mouth shut, he’s happy to see her and tells himself it’s just Jo getting slack with her. He watches as Sheila kicks off the boots at his door and pulls a bundle from her bag.
“Presents!” she exclaims.
“Ah Angel, that’s nice of you,” he says. Mac opens the bag and sees a loaf of Irish Soda bread. “This looks good. Let’s have some right now.” He braces his left arm, maneuvering to get up.
“No, no. Let me,” she says and takes the bag from his hand. “Do you want some coffee?”
“Don’t know if I have any more,” Mac answers, although he would love some coffee right now. If he spends another midday asleep, he’s going to feel like even more of a loser.
“There’s some in the back of the freezer,” she answers. “Ooo, it’s gourmet.”
“Oh right,” Mac says, “Justine gave me that for Christmas.”
Christmas feels like six months ago, but it is only the end of January.
He listens as Sheila works in the kitchen, but is uncomfortable with the silence. He knows she is waiting for him to say something, be himself. Be her Dad.
“How’s school?” he asks and almost winces at how lame a question it is.
“Well…it’s Saturday, Daddy.”
“Jesus, I know that much,” he replies. “I mean, in general. How’s it going?”
“Fine,” she says absently.
“What does fine mean?” he asks.
“Oh you know…same old stuff.”
“How’s basketball going?”
He hears her movement stop in the kitchen.
“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” she says a little too breezily. “I decided not to play this year.”
Mac stares at the wall between them. Sheila has played basketball every year, community league or school teams, since she was old enough to bounce a ball. He wasn’t pinning a scholarship hope on it or anything, but Sheila is one hell of a player, can guard like a boy, has a quick move to the hoop.
“I’d remember you telling me that,” he replies.
“Maybe it was when you were in the hospital,” she adds conversationally. “There were times you were pretty sleepy.”
Something about what she’s said makes Mac feel worse than he already does. He waits for her to come in with the bread, toasted and buttered.
“It’s from the new bakery near the T,” she says.
“New?” he says skeptically, “I’m pretty fussy with Irish Soda bread.”
Sheila giggles. “Try it Daddy. It’s good.”
Mac takes a bite and lets the texture, the smell, the taste sink in. It is good.
“Right?” Sheila pushes, taking a bite herself. She keeps her eyes on him, waiting for his reaction.
Mac nods. “Pretty good.”
“What?” she scoffs. Sheila makes a face just like Jo: crooked lips, twisted into a smirk of a smile. “Whatever Dad.”
Mac finishes chewing his bite and studies his daughter. “Hey,” he says quietly. Sheila looks up.
“Why’d you quit basketball?” he asks.
Sheila looks down and starts picking raisins out of the bread. She shrugs and puts
one in her mouth. “Just wasn’t fun anymore, I guess.”
Mac keeps studying her. It still doesn’t add up.
“Somethin happen you want to tell me about?”
“No…I mean nothing happened.”
“A fight with one of the other girls?”
She shakes her head.
“Your coach?”
“No Daddy…I told you.”
Mac looks down at the bread and doesn’t know if he’s hungry for it anymore.
“Is it a boy?” he asks.
“Daddy!” she says, sounding frustrated. “I told you, no. Nothing happened. I just didn’t feel like playing anymore. I’m a junior now and there’s other stuff I want to do.”
They hear the bell tone that means the coffee maker is done brewing.
“I’ll go get it,” she tells him and disappears into the kitchen. “So you didn’t tell me,” she calls. “How are you feeling today?”
The answer is like crap, but he won’t share that.
“Good…better.”

Flash #12

2006-12-14T21:10:00.000-08:00

Mac can’t imagine that getting the idea to call his brother Neil is a good sign. Sitting on the couch as Friday turns into Saturday, cycling through channels, wondering again – but only briefly – if drinking beer with the pain medications he is on is a mistake, he is determined to stay as far away from Neil as he can. Then why is Neil taking up head space now, as thoughts of how to set a date to get back to work dog him? He lets the feeling of dread fill him every hour on the hour, as if electing to get into a car with no steering wheel over and over again, knowing that the accelerator will stick every time. It makes him worry he has lost his nerve, and that once it is gone, the kids can smell it off of you – there is no going back.

The noise from the door closing downstairs makes him hit the mute button on the remote. His heart pounds for a couple of seconds while he listens to the footsteps, trying to tell by their sound who is coming to visit him. First of all, if they’re on the stairs then they’ve got a key to the downstairs door and that brings the number of people it could be way down. If the steps are at a quick jog, it sure as hell ain’t his mother. Before his front door opens, he knows it is his daughter, Sheila. Mac tucks his open can of Budweiser between the wall and the couch.