Searching For The Right Person

[chanaud]

OOC: This thread is for BigDawg69 and myself. I am open to other characters but PM me first. Meanwhile, enjoy our search for that 'right' person.

My eyes peeked through the thick crust of my eyelashes and closed quickly. The bright sunlight streamed in and shone brightly telling me it way past early morning and closer to noon. My handed patted for my covers blindly. A soft moan and a shake revealing someone rolling over made my body freeze. I wondered who it was this time. Last night’s events came flooding back….

It was a party somewhere in Central Park. I didn’t know whose apartment I was in but it didn’t matter. That’s how it is in the Big Apple. My friend, Karl called me saving me from devouring a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey and a night of pity party for one. I agreed wholeheartedly and threw on simple black slacks, black halter-top and sling back open toed sandals. A quick brush to my long auburn mane and I was ready when Karl arrived at my door.

Karl is my best friend. If I was ever in a need for a date for a business function or a wild party, he was always available and I for him. Through our five-year relationship, our friendship survived too many bad relationships from one-night stands to long-term relationships with the ‘wrong’ person. Only once our relationship was tested when we both fell for the same man. Since the man dumped us both, we cried on each other’s shoulders and pacified ourselves by a weekend feast of gourmet delights delivered by our local bakery.

Another groan from the nameless young stud woke me fully. I tried to shake him awake.

”Wake up. It’s time to go.."

He rolled over revealing a raging hard on. For a brief moment, I wondered if I should take advantage of it. Who knows when the next fuck will come. No, I was too annoyed and my head was thumping like mad from too many Cosmopolitans. I shook him harder.

”Wake up! You have to leave.”

Just then my phone rang. I knew who it was. I reached over and grabbed the phone quickly.

“Samantha you slut! I eyed him first.”

”Hello, dear. Uh huh. Yes. Sure. In 30 minutes? Ok, see you then.”

“Oh he’s there. Meet me at the Serving Spoon in 30.

When I hung up the phone, a powerful stench of morning breath hit me as the groggy voice asked, “Who is it?[/I]

My nose wrinkled in disgust. I replied in my severe business tone. “It’s my husband. He’ll be home in 30 minutes so you must leave now.”

“Fuck! Why didn’t you tell you were married?”

He jumped up and grabbed his clothes. Half dressed, he slammed the door behind without saying goodbye. I smiled sadly as I inhaled my first cigarette of the day. I never knew his name. It doesn’t matter. I will never see him again.

I must stop bringing home strange men. I must stop smoking.

I lectured to myself as I stubbed out the cigarette and prepared to meet my friend.

 

[BigDawg69]

I smiled warmly as I felt her kissing my cheek. A strong feeling of comfort consumed me as I nestled into the bed further. The screaming match from the night before had been but a nasty concoction of my overactive imagination. My broad smile sunk a bit as the sensation of her kissed grew wet. I cracked my eyes to see my English bulldog, Jack, sloppily lapping at my face. His foul breath filled my nose with a gasp as my eyes popped wide open. I scurried back across my bed staring at the pour beast.

Squinting with the daylight, I used the sheet to wipe the slobber from my face. I looked around the large bedroom of our loft apartment. Or at least I hoped it was still ours and not just mine. I slowly got out of the bed wrapping the white Egyptian sheet around my naked body like a toga. The drawers of our dresser were opened and clothes spread about, hanging out of them. I looked into the closet it seemed to be almost empty.

I walked slowly through the wide-open living space to the modern corner kitchen wiping the sleep from my dreary eyes. Then I saw the note. It wasn’t what I expected. There was no soft penning of a classic note on her lovely stationary, nor was it even a quick jot on a scrap paper. No she chose to leave large angry words scrawled across the dry-erase board on the fridge.

GO FUCK YOURSELF. I’M LEAVING WITH WILLIAM

William, even seeing the name made me seethe with annoyance. Who goes by William? What a pompous prick. The realization struck me through my internal rant about the supercilious autodidactic William. She left me!

I quickly scrounged through the house, sliding on a pair of khaki slacks and grabbing my old Duke sweatshirt. I jumped into a pair of mismatched tennis shoes, but I didn’t care. Running through the apartment collecting my keys and wallet, I stabbed a toothbrush in my mouth and raced for the door. Turning to close the door and leave I saw Jack lumber into the great room. Quickly I shot back into the kitchen and left his food bag open on the floor.

“Don’t eat to much, Jack. I’ll be back with Krissy tonight.” With those words I fled the apartment.

Crashing down the stairs and through the lobby of our building, still hanging on the “our,” I nearly knock poor Mrs. Liebowitz over. To the curb I dashed scanning the Manhattan traffic for a cab with it’s available light on. I started running toward the park hoping to find on down there.

Bzzzzzzz Bzzzzzzzzz

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I stopped on the corner, my eyes still scanning for a cab, as I pulled the phone and pressed it to my ear.

“Yeah . . . .no wait . . . .NO . . . . No I promise . . . .if you get on that plane you’re making a huge mistake!” I pleaded into the phone. “What the fuck? . . . Where did he read that bullshit? . . . Tell ol’ Billy boy to fuck his books and get a real education!” My anger grew. “WHAT!? . . . OK maybe that’s true but . . . NO WAIT . . . DON’T HANG UP, I can change I swear!” I was holding the phone in front of my face yelling at the heartless dial tone.

Dejected, my arms fell to my side. I looked around at the city moving along as if the world had not just crushed around me. I turned and looked back at our, sorry, my apartment building.

Well shit, I’m up now.

Shaking my head, I went through the usual amount of denial. She was all wrong for me. They were all wrong ultimately. I began to walk along heading nowhere in particular. The sky was clouded with a high gray cover. My stomach rumbled along with the regret in my chest. I stopped and looked around. Across the street was a nice unassuming place that looked interesting. A cool gray day called for a cup of soup, as did my quickly digressing mood. The Serving Spoon for lunch it would be.

Being a typical New Yorker I stepped into the street not really paying attention to the traffic nor caring. I didn’t care that is until a cab screamed around the corner and nearly took my head off. I dove out of its way landing on the far sidewalk. Amazed I stood slowly checking my extremities for functionality. Before I had a chance to spin around and flip off the driver the cab had emptied it’s contents and sped back into traffic. Rolling my eyes, shrugging my shoulders, I decided the safest place for me was in front of a hot bowl of New England Clam Chowder, and walked into the restaurant.

 

[chanaud]

There in the far back, in our favorite booth sat Karl. He blond hair shook up and down as he waved at me and I hurried my way over, not paying any attention to my surroundings. I plopped down on the red vinyl booth and felt myself sink in while the booth burped. The first thing I did was reach for a cigarette.

“Must you?” He loathes my smoking and didn’t mind telling me.

“My, my, you’re bitchy this morning. What happened didn’t get laid last night?” My voice sounded cheerfully false but still I returned the unlit cigarette back in the pack.

“Pleeeease…Just because you got laid doesn’t mean you have to rub it in. So tell me, how was he? Was he as good as he looked?”

I groaned inwardly. “I can’t remember. He must have been good because I found 4 used condoms this morning.” I lied. There was only one.

“You liar!” He exclaimed. I gave him a secret smile, which Karl looked at me with jealousy. It’s been a while for him.

“Is he the right one?”

“Please! I’m 29 years old, have a great career and the last thing I want to do is give it all up just for that right one. Beside, I can’t even find someone for a long term relationship let alone the right person.”

“Well you’re not getting any younger, Sam. If you don’t find one soon you’ll be one of the 3 million single women who will be desperately chasing every man on two legs who is kind enough to look their way. Ask any woman over the age 35 how difficult it is to find a man without any baggage. And by then, your tits will have sag and you will be visiting the salon every month for the perfect color. Who will want you then?”

I scoffed at him but his words sunk in as I bit into my BLT. I knew he was right. And I knew that he knew my biological clock was ticking and the alarm was ready to go off.

“Uh oh. Isn’t that the crazy in your apartment?”

I turned with a mouthful of lettuce and saw whom he was referring to. “Yep that’s 6E. He and his girlfriend are constantly fighting. Just last week…”

“Well if he’s fighting with his girlfriend all the time, he must be an in unhappy relationship. Why don’t you talk to him? He’s kinda cute.”

Cute? I never thought of him as that. I turned to check him out but a tall man in a Duke sweatshirt was blocking my view. The Duke guy saw me straining my neck and smiled at me. I returned a frown before I turned my head.

We finished our meal and stood up to pay our tab. Next to the cash register was an array of business cards advertising various services. Karl picked one up and asked, “What are you doing now?”

“I have to run a few errands. Why? Do you have anything better?”

“Why don’t you come with me to get our palms read?”

“Palms?”

“Yes, by a palm reader! Oh come on, it’ll be fun.”

A hearty laugh coursed through me. “You don’t believe in that do you?”

“Listen Sam. Do you know what I read last week? That only 1 out of 6 find a mate over the age of 35. I’m not going to wait that long. I’m going to do whatever I can to find him. If you are as smart as I think you are, you will start looking too.” He waved the card in front of my face.

“Who knows, maybe, Madame Pandora will know where to find him.”

I shook my head. This was ridiculous. This is against everything I believe in. There is someone special for me, and we will bump into each other and gaze in each other’s eyes and know immediately that we are meant to be. I just know it. I’ve known it since I played dress up as a young child. But, an anxiety sunk in. What if someone else finds him? 1 out of 6?

“Sure, I’ll go. Who knows, maybe this Madame Pandora will tell me where I lost my favorite gold earrings.”

 

[BigDawg69]

The restaurant was just like any one of a dozen trendy lunch spots that had littered the Manhattan landscape of late. I felt my appetite begin to spin away as I glossed over the usual strain of want-to-be hip patrons. They sat with their designer coffees, and black clothes trying to impress each other with discussions of theatre and art, or politics. I stepped into the place moving to a lonely table in the back.

That’s when she saw me. There was a noted look of interest in her when we made eye contact. Being charitable and cautious I smiled, which she returned with a frown. How New York. I thought as I passed her table in search of my own.

I took my table and sat watching the lady and her friend get up from their table. Gay No straight man eats in a place like this with a woman like that, unless he’s gay or whipped. My eyes grazed over her form as she walked to the counter. Then again being whipped with that maybe wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

“Good morning sir. What can I get you?” A nice young waitress had walked up to my table quite without me noticing.

“Uh, yeah. I’d like a cup of coffee and bowl of New England Clam Chowder, please.” I spoke still watching the lady. I looked up at the nubile young waitress. She smiled back at me with a kind of gentle innocence that would melt the hardest of cynics.

“Very good. I’ll get these right out to you then.” She smiled down at me.

“Excuse me?” I spoke to her, stopping her just as she turned away. Turning back to me the brightness in her puppy brown eyes lifted my spirits. “It’s nothing really. I just wanted to tell you that you have amazing eyes.”

She smiled coyly and blushed affectedly. Thanking me she turned off to her work. I sat back in my chair, my thoughts turned once again to Krissy and William. My face sank with my heart. I was beginning to wonder if there really was a match for everyone. And if there was how in the Hell would I find mine. I looked around the restaurant once more. Finding a mate in this world was harder than finding a parking spot in New York City.

The lovely waitress returned with my soup and coffee. Placing each in front of me, she inquired if I needed anything else. I responded with a gentle shake of my head and thank you. She smiled and left me the check, before walking away. I pulled the check and looked over the bill. Twenty bucks for a cup of coffee and soup. This better be damned good soup. I noticed some writing on the back of the bill. In bubbly fashion my waitress had left me her name and phone number across the back of the check. The dot for the ‘i’ in Nicole and the zeroes in her phone number were little hearts and smiley faces. I smiled and looked up. I caught her eye and she winked at me.

I should have been thrilled. She was certainly very cute. Perhaps that’s the problem. She’s too cute, and too young. I’d feel too guilty to just bang her and be done with it. She’s so bright and innocent, I’d have to let her stay around. Then I wouldn’t be able to let her go, because it’d just be easier to let her hang on. Then she would become a habit. Until one day, she would wake up a lot closer to thirty and see me as a mistake of her now misspent youth. She’d pack all her stuff in a hurry as I slept through another hang over and leave with some New Age prick named William. I didn’t need that. Not right now. I just smiled back her and tapped the table where the bill lay. Taking a spoonful of soup I slurped it down. Wow the soup is that good.

 

[chanaud]

The fall breeze was as chilling as my mood on this particular Saturday afternoon. Though it was a weekend, the streets didn’t slow and it was still bustling as ever like a normal weekday. Out on the wide sidewalk, a skateboarder carrying a boom box blaring full bass buzzed by me, almost knocking me down. Karl caught my arm as my legs skipped a step.

Damn, kids! People should be outlawed to have kids if they can’t keep them contained out of the public eye.

Karl rolled his eyes. He knew I was just saying that for I loved kids and secretly harbored the idea of having a few of my own. Though I would deny ever admitting to it after that one drunken, tearful night on one too many bottles of wine and after watching Kramer vs. Kramer for the umpteenth time.

“What is wrong with you? Wait! What is today? No, it’s not your time of the month, or is it?”

Dammit, Karl! Why is it that every time a woman is in a bad mood, she’s on the rag? Why can’t I be a bitch just because I want to be one? Does all of my bitchiness have to be controlled by that one egg producing cycle? Do you want to know why I’m in a bad mood? It’s because, I gave up a chance to have great sex with a guy to hear about the woes of a single person finding the right mate. I do not need this today. I know my time is running out and it’s getting harder each day to find the right person. Why do you think I’m walking with you to get my palm read? Hell! I don’t care about those stupid earrings. I have twenty pairs of them.

He gave me a bear hug right there in the middle of the sidewalk. It was exactly what I needed and he knew it. I felt horrible that I was taking my anger and frustrations out on my best friend. He was sensitive and caring and is always there when I need him. Besides that, he knows how to dress, is well behaved, and can always join in any discussion at parties, especially when it’s about the who’s who in the literary field. In fact, he’s perfect in every way. Well, in every way except for one, he’s gay. Oh why must he be gay? He’s everything I want and need in a man. Everything but his tendency to follow the ass of every handsome man that walks by him. Maybe, we can just get married and I can convert him. The thought of that ludicrous idea made me laugh. What was I thinking? Am I that desperate? No, not yet. I’m still 29 years old and I know the right person is out there waiting for me, somewhere among the 5 million people in New York. Or maybe he’s in New Jersey. Oh God, please don’t let him be in New Jersey!

It was as if he read my thoughts. “Let’s make a pact, Sammie. If we don’t find someone by the ripe old age of 35, we will get married.” He extended his hand out to seal our pact.

I agreed wholeheartedly. Agreed. Secretly, I didn’t want to settle for Karl. My Prince Charming was somewhere out there. You know, it really wouldn’t be a bad thing. Your mom already loves me and my mom adores you.

We laughed as our mood lifted. It soon died as we stood staring at the address of our destination that held our future. Hanging over us was a wooden sign in faint red letters reading, Follow the Stars by Madame Pandora.

 

[BigDawg69]

I sat and pondered the young woman’s phone number over my soup. Leaving a larger than normal tip, I chose to leave bill and number on the table and I walked out of the restaurant. As I walked back out into the gray Manhattan day, I noticed a small piece of paper dancing about the sidewalk in the city breeze. With a stomp I pinned the page underneath my foot. The page was half of a flyer proclaiming the amazing psychic powers of Madame Pandora.

I smiled to myself as I crumpled the page and tossed it into a nearby wastebasket. I stood on the corner watching the city bustle by. I had a decision to make. I could return to my apartment (oh I didn’t like the sound of that, ‘our’ has a much better feel) or I strangely felt the need to walk through the park. It was a gray day, but a Saturday nonetheless. And although the high clouds covered the sky, there was not really any threat of rain. The traffic light changed and I opted for the park.

Central Park, home to freaks and yuppies alike. As I strolled down a tree-lined path toward one of the open fields a distinct smell of urine filled my nose. Only a few yards further and the sweet smell of a young woman’s perfume lighted though the air. There were a few people in the park on this day. Some played soccer (or football depending on your preference) others picnicked and played with dogs.

Couples. I was surrounded by couples. Young men and women were frolicking on a comfy Saturday afternoon. I felt suddenly alone. I stopped near a fountain and looked around. It was a typical Saturday in the park. Absentmindedly I tossed a stone into the fountain.

“Did you make a wish?” A crackled voice came up from behind me.

I turned around to see a very old lady dressed in a widely varying array of coats, dresses, and sweaters topped with two or three scarves wrapped around her head and neck. She walked slowly and hunched over, gripping a gnarly wood cane in her left hand. She peered up at me through straggles of twine gray hair with brilliant deep blue eyes. She smiled a toothless grin as she raised her cane to tap my leg.

“Did you make a wish?” She spoke again.

“No ma’am. Should I?” I turned to her.

She raised her wrinkled face to the sky and took a deep breath of the air. Breathing out she returned her gaze to me. “There is still time, boy. Make your wish. But make a good one and make it soon.”

“Uhm OK?” I stuttered as I looked at the woman. “I wish . . .”

“No!” She cut me off raising her cane to my face, the rubber tip mere inches from my nose. She waived it in front of me as she spoke. “You must ask the wish of the fountain. The day is right, the clouds are there for you to make a respected request of the fountain.” She stood quite still staring at me, or more like what felt like through me.

I slowly turned around and addressed the fountain. Before I could make a sound she poked my back with her cane and barked that I should ask silently. “What you want of the fountain is between you and the fountain. No need for the nosey wind to know too.” I nodded my head slowly.

I stood there silently for a moment, all I could think about was the ‘right’ woman. I found myself having a philosophical debate with myself about the existence of the ‘right’ woman. My mind argued with my heart about finding her being a device of chance, fate, or design.

Lost in my own debate a couple of skateboarders rode by snapping me back to the present. I turned around to thank the old lady and she was not there. There was only a large collection of pigeons stirring about collecting something from the ground around the fountain.

“Thanks.” I spoke quietly to the wind, and the birds, en mass, reached out their wings and flapped their way loudly into the gray sky leaving me alone by the fountain.

 

[chanaud]

Sammie Pederson

The sign loomed over us casting a dreaded shadow. Not sure what the future holds, we stood there silently and afraid to make the first step.

”This is nonsense!” With a laugh, I pulled on the door and marched in with Karl following sheepishly behind me. We stopped in the doorway at the sight before us. The room was dark. The walls were lined of books laid haphazardly on each shelf. Spider webs hung like hammocks from lack of dusting. There was a musty scent. We stood in awe taking in the scenery, afraid to walk in. A little child’s voice made us jump.

“Don’t just stand there. You’re letting the cold in. Come in, come in.”

It was odd because it was freezing cold inside. Expecting a child, we gasped in surprise at the person approaching us. Instead the voice belongs to a little old woman with a faint limp. She hobbled her way towards with a wide warm smile. We stepped and approached her.

”Ummm…hello, my name is… All of a sudden I was shy.

“Samantha, aren’t you?” My heart stopped. How did she know? Is she for real? She gave me a knowing smile. “May I offer some tea?” Flabbergasted, I nodded. If the woman knows my name, I will definitely have tea with her despite the strange surroundings. Karl followed my lead.

“What about some music?” Without waiting for an answer, she started an antique phonograph. Guy Lombardo’s fast tempo livened the room. The little lady disappeared to the back. Karl pointed to a photograph sitting at a table. I had to cover my mouth to oppress my giggle. The photo was an old black and white of the same lady but much younger in a bathing suit surrounded by men her size wearing swim trunks. Karl’s giggle grew louder. I hissed at him. ”Stop it!” Still, I had to smile.

The woman entered the room carrying a tray. Karl stood up to take it from her hand and set it in the center of the wide dark grain table. She smiled and picked up the photograph, “This was taken thirty years ago. It’s a shame I couldn’t keep my figure. Oh we were so young and so full of life.” Chills ran up my spine to my neck making my hairs to stand. I shivered not from the cold but from her ability to read our minds. I decided to take her seriously. This woman is real.

She sat across us and folded her hands on the wide table. “My name is Kay. What can I tell you?” I leaned in and introduced myself formally.

"Hi Kay, I’m Samantha Pederson but you can call me Sammie. And this is my friend Karl Moulton. We’ve come here to have our palms read. By the way, are you Madame Pandora?”"

“Oh no. That is my mother. This is her day off and left me to mind shop. I do not have the skill to read palms but I can read your eyes and answer some questions for you.”

"Well…I…I…"

Karl jumped in for me. “Kay, Sammie would like to know where to find her future husband.”

I stared at the table and blushed at his bluntness. When I finally looked up, she was staring hard at me. The instant my eyes met hers, her eyes rolled back and spun. The whole scene was creepy. It was a scene out of a scary movie. Still I sat there perfectly still waiting anxiously for her answer.

“I’m sorry, dear. You are not destined for marriage.”

I almost jumped out of my chair. Karl released a high shrieking laugh. I chose to ignore him. ”What??? I’m not getting married??? What do you mean???"

She stared boldly and spoke softly but firmly. ”Sorry, dear. I see no husband in your future. You will however be a success with your line of work. You’re in public relations, correct? Yes, you will be very successful. But you will be alone. Well, except for a cat. You will have three cats and will be perfectly content with them. I cannot tell you why. I just know that you will die alone but happy.”

Karl sensed my disappointment. He stood up and spoke harshly with his hands waving in the air. “Listen, Kay! You are a farce. Sammie, don’t believe her. She’s a freak. Just look at her. We came here to have our palms read not have her insult you like that. Kay, I will report you to the authorities, the AMRA, or Psychics AA, whatever the hell you freaks belong to. Come on, Sammie. Let’s get out of here.”

He grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the store. Her words reverberated through my brain…

 

[BigDawg69]

The blaring music from a portable stereo woke me from my daze. I found myself alone on a park bench near the fountain where I had spoken to the strange woman. The sky had darkened as the clouds thickened overhead. The city breeze now blew itself into a full wind and was biting cold. I shivered in my sweatshirt against the wind. Shaking my head and blinking my eyes I decided it was high time I return to the warmth of my apartment.

As I wandered slowly through the now nearly empty park my mind replayed my encounter with the strange lady over and over. A shiver ran down my spine prickling the hairs on my back and neck. I had a nagging feeling that something about my world was different, and I don’t mean the fact that I was about to go home to an empty apartment. Everything felt different. I couldn’t put my finger on it. I didn’t feel any better really, nor any worse, just different.

I turned into the lobby of my building and opted not the check the mail and headed for the elevator. The old cable elevator creaked its way up to my floor through the old building. I slid the doors up and walked lazily down my hallway. Turning my key and opening the door, I walked back into what was now “my” home.

Jack slept lazily on the couch. Ordinarily this would have elicited a chorus of screams from Krissy, but I didn’t care so much where the dog slept. He spent more time in this apartment than I did anyway. I petted his big head as I plopped on the couch next to him.

“It’s a good day for a nap, eh Jack?” I mumbled as I relaxed back against the soft cushions.

I looked at Jack as his big mouth flopped open and his large flat tongue lapped at my hand. For the first time in my life, I though I should get a cat. I don’t like cats, or at least I didn’t think I liked cats, but somehow now I felt the need for a cat.

“Jack, how would you feel about having a cat to torment while I’m at work?” I asked, but Jack merely swung his large eyes over toward me for a brief moment. “Maybe we should get a cat.”

Movement outside my windows caught my eye. I slowly got myself up from the couch to take a closer look. The city looked cold and gray. Falling among the stone and steel buildings were great white snowflakes. The flakes drifted aimlessly down from the clouds and mingled playfully with the air on their winding way to the ground. It was the first snow of the season.

The people below moved about their day, only a few stopped to gaze up at the sky with wonder. The yellow cabs continued to honk their way through the city streets. The city always felt different when snow was falling. It was more at peace.

With a sigh, I moved to the refrigerator and looked over its barren shelves. The cupboards rendered even less hope of sustenance. Neither Krissy nor I was the type to cook and stay in. I leaned on my outstretched arms over the sink peering through the small window. The snow flakes grew in number and shank in size, looking down I could see the tips of trees and bushes began to frost in a light coating of white.

I turned and walked back over toward the dog. I gave him a pat on the head. “Want to go for a walk, Jack? Stretch your itty legs a bit?”

Jack looked up at me with large eyes, and woofed a lazy half bark in my direction. “Alright then, let me get my coat and your leash, and we’ll be off.”

A few moments later Jack, with me in tow, emerged from the building and onto the sidewalk. Only a few people moved about on what had grown into a very cold afternoon. Jack moved quickly to mark his territory on anything that would stand still long enough for him to lift his leg. We made our way toward the park, at a lackadaisical pace. Jack felt the need to thoroughly inspect each tree and trashcan on our way.

I found myself watching all the couples walking along. I wondered if I would be a part of a couple again. A grumbling in my stomach reminded me of my empty kitchen and I decided to lead Jack on his way to Mother’s Pub. Mother’s Pub is an old Irish pub that I frequented much more before Krissy had entered my life and then less and less as she seemed to take over. I often felt that Jack was much more popular among the other regulars in fact, when we stopped coming in, Patty had called and left a message checking on Jack’s health.

We stepped through the heavy oak doors into the pub to a warm and loud Irish welcome from Patty. The usual patrons lined the bar on their usual stools. Each getting up to give Jack a welcome pat on his large head. I looked around to see the sitting area filled with various up and coming types.

“Patty, you’re full?” I questioned as the fatherly bar keep ushered me around to the far side of the bar.

“Aye, Peter. I’ve had to bring in more wait staff. But the business has its drawbacks, don’t ye know.”

“Aye, these stuffed shirts don’t let us smoke at the bar no more, Peter.” Smitty a jolly old Irish elf of a man grumbled from his stool.

“And that’s such a bad thing?” I quipped. “You boys seen Logan around lately?” I asked of an old school buddy of mine who is a detective for the NYPD.

A chorus of laughter accompanied several snide remarks about Logan and his rather scrumptious partner. Apparently during his last visit to Mother’s Logan had crashed and burned yet again. He and his tenuous relationship with his very female partner was the stuff of legends and laughter among the old timers at Mother’s.

Patty reached down and grabbed Jack by his big jowls and shook the dog’s head. “It’s good to see ye, boy, but we better keep ya from the view of the others. They may take offense to ye, shocking as it may be. Perhaps we can find something for ye in the back.” Patty scooped the bulldog under his arm and carried him through the large swinging doors.

I looked down at the fresh pint of Guinness that slid right up to me, and then back across the old guys as they returned to their heated debates of sports and such. I felt warm, and relaxed, but something was missing yet. I sipped from my Guinness and my mind returned once again to the fountain and the mumblings of the strange old lady. I had asked the fountain for a mate, and now I wandered just how crazy I had been to take stock in the mad ramblings of the ethereal old woman.

 

[chanaud]

Sammie Pederson

My body slumped against the rough brick wall. You will die alone. Karl hands grabbed my shoulders and pulled me towards his chest for a hug. I refused him with the palms of my hands and held him back.

“I have to go…” My voice was a mere whisper.

“I understand. Where do you want to go, Sammie?”

“No! You don’t understand. I have to be myself. I’ll call you later…” Karl looked on with sadness as my battered body faded down the long city sidewalk.

All of a sudden my world turned gray. It reminded me of an old black and white film; only there weren’t any dramatic contrasts. Just gray. No color, no future. Just gray. You will be alone. Except for a cat. It will only be you and a cat. What the hell? What did I ever do in my lifetime to deserve this? I try my best to be a good person. I don’t drink excessively, do drugs or go out of my way to be mean to other people. Sure, I’m no Mother Theresa. I do have my faults. I smoke though I don’t want to. I am planning on quitting. Soon! Yes, tomorrow. I will quit tomorrow. I do drink but not excessively. Sure, I've had a number of varied lovers including one night stands. But what woman in their twenties doesn’t. Besides, I've always been careful and not committed to anyone. We are supposed to explore until we find the right person, correct? Oh God! Don’t let me be alone. I’m not made to be alone.

Though my body was weary and my brain was numb, I couldn’t stop my legs from continuing on. The air turned cold all of a sudden. My thin blazer wasn’t enough to prevent the winds from me. I shivered uncontrollably. Each sudden shiver brought me towards consciousness, awakening me from my numbness. I stopped at the corner and looked up at the green street sign. 43rd Street. Christ! I walked five long blocks. No wonder I’m exhausted. There seems to be white dust on the deserted narrow road. Only when I heard someone yell out snow did I realize it wasn’t dust.

A door opened before me bringing a rush of warm air. Echoes of cheerful laughter and blaring music called my attention and made me look up. A green four leaf clover was painted under the sign, Mother’s Pub. As if on cue, my stomach started grumbling noisily. A couple opened the door and walked in bringing another rush of warm laughter. Just as I turned to follow them, a child’s voice stopped me in my tracks.

“Excuse me, ma’am. Would you like to buy a kitty?”

Oh God, it’s starting already. Someone called me ma’am. I turned to find a tiny child with large wet eyes looking up at me and holding a cardboard box. He hung on tightly as the box rattled with scratching noises.

You will die alone with a cat.

“He’s the last one. He only costs $5.00.”

I shook my head. You will die alone with a cat. The image of her throwing her head back with a diabolical laughter made me shake my head uncontrollably.

”NO!!!!”

I blinked before me. The child’s round innocent eyes were now tiny angry slits of a young teenager.

“Bitch. All you have to say is, no thank you.”

The door opened again and I quickly followed a group of five into the warm pub.

There seemed to be circles of friends everywhere. At first quick glance, I quickly labeled Mother Pub as another fern bar, a neighborhood bar with lots of green plants.

“Sammie!”

My head snapped as I heard my name. A tall familiar frame was waving for my attention. My face lit up at the prospect of seeing someone familiar. It feels great to have your name called in unfamiliar territory. I approached his table and slowed as soon as I remembered who he was.

“Uh hello, Tom. How are you?”

Tom looked pleased with himself. A see of curious eyes were on me. I fidgeted with nervousness. UGH! Why did I come in here?

Tom introduced me around to his boring friends. They were typical Accountants. White pasty clean-cut boys wearing neatly pressed designer shirts buttoned all the way except for the top one and neatly tucked in matching designer khakis. Boring, boring ,boring. As Tom tried to make small talk, my mind wandered around the bar with my eye, looking for action. Other tables seemed to be filled with interesting New Yorkers with real discussion. It was just my luck, the most boring table had to call me over.

“Hey, it was nice seeing you Tom. I’m meeting a date so let me grab the two empty stools at the bar.”

I leaned in and gave him a friendly kiss on his blushing cheek. It took all I had to control my eyes. He was obviously pleased with this friendly gesture as his cronies looked on with envious stares.

I hurried to the stools and plopped down with a sigh. A middle-aged bartender wearing a white apron smiled at me. For the first time today, a smile reached my brown almond shaped eyes.

“What will ya have miss?” His melodic Irish dialect was original.

“I’ll have a draft..ermmm a Bass please.”

 

[BigDawg69]

“Oy, the Yanks are still the best team in baseball, right?” My trip back to the Twilight Zone snapped with the acerbic Irish draw.

I shook my head a couple times and looked over at the gathering of old guys talking baseball. “They’re the best team money can buy. Does that make them the best team in baseball?” I retorted.

This response drew a muttering of laughter. Smitty stepped over and placed his large arm on my shoulders. “I like dis boy!” He laughed heartily.

In no time I found myself among the old guys deep in a discussion on the merits of the designated hitter rule. I relaxed and laughed as they picked at each other, their sharp wits still very much in tact. Often one or the other would refer to the “good old days” or even a particular game played between the GI’s during the war in Europe. Ben, a sly but feisty older man with a decidedly Scottish brogue, even shared his story of getting stabbed in the leg during a fight with some marines over the infield fly rule.

As the afternoon grew on, and the evening brought the after work crowds into Mother’s Pub, and the old guys shuffled me off to their usual circular booth in the corner, where our hearty laughter continued. They shared with me stories of the war. Jimmy, an rather overweight old dodger of a Londoner talked about playing games with the other kids among the ruins when the Germans were conducting air raids over England. The guys were ruthless in their wit but ultimately respectful.

I glanced around the bar a couple times during the conversation. That’s when I saw her. It was the same lady I’d seen earlier that day from the soup place. I watched her, as she seemed to glide to the bar. Her eyes shot around the bar as if she were desperately looking for someone. Her movement and form so graceful, she captivated me. I felt as though I were on safari quietly watching a great and fluid cheetah move through the tall grasses.

As I watched her, I became acutely aware of the hushed voices and chuckles coming from the boys in the booth. I turned my head quickly to see all eyes on me. Each of them wore broad smiles. A couple even laughed out loud. I could not help but to blush and shake my head slightly.

“Looks like ye need another?” Smitty motioned to the bar as he picked up my almost empty glass.

“Aye, boy. A trip to the bar will do ye good.” Added Ben.

I looked around the table. Each one of them smiled and nodded at me. Clearly they were ready to watch and possibly even live vicariously through me. I made eye contact with each one, and each one returned with a reassuring nod. Smitty slid my glass to me. I stood from the booth, and took one step in her direction.

“Peter,” Smitty called to me, “Be sure and talk to the lady while you’re waitin’ for your pint.”

“Aye, it’ll be easier to get into her knickers that way.” A chorus of laughter erupted from the table as I turned from them and headed for the bar.

I stepped up to the bar just next to the mystery lady. I slid my glass toward John the bartender. John stepped over and grabbed my glass. He started to fill it with Guinness.

“Peter, it seems as though Jack is the only one who likes Patty’s brown sauce tonight.” He remarked as he finished the pour.

“That’s not much different from any other night, is it?” I responded.

“Aye you’re right about that.” John laughed as he slid the glass back to me and walked off to tend the rest of the bar.

I caught the glass and turned to move away from the bar. As I turned to the woman her eyes met mine briefly. I smiled down to her as she sat on her stool. She had such a lovely face, but I could see something in her eyes.

“Good evening.” I spoke kindly, hopefully.

 

[chanaud]

Sammie Pederson

His voice was hesitant but still rang with masculinity. I turned to smile and soon frowned. There was a vague familiarity about him that pulled on my memory bank for quick retrieval. Nothing. Can’t place him anywhere.

“Good evening.” I responded with the right combination of coolness to show I wasn’t an easy prey and enough warmness to keep him interested. Where do I know him? Just play along, Sammie, I told myself. I do this everyday and have become a pro at this. I meet hundreds of people on a daily basis due to working for the largest public relations firm in New York City so I can handle this, right?

“How are you?” I asked him to continue on.

His smile widened when I showed an interest.

“I’m great! Can I buy you a drink?”

My eyes shifted down to my full mug of amber liquid and chuckles softly. He looked down and reddened with obvious embarrassment. “Actually, I have to go soon. Next time, ok?”

His eyes lit up with his face at the suggestion of a next time. “Can I call you, Sammie?”

My face fell for a split second but immediately perked. Who is he and does he have my number?

“Sure. Call me anytime.”

“Ummm…I think I misplaced your number. Can you give it to me again?”

I couldn’t help giving him a genuine smile that made his body slump with ease at my response.

“Sure.” I reached over the bar and grabbed a small square of bar napkin with a large lime green four-leaf clover.

“Do you have a pen on you?”

He whipped one out of his front shirt pocket. He stores a pen in his pocket? Argh! He must be another Accountant!

After scribbling a seven-digit number, I folded it neatly and tucked it in his pocket with his pen. Through his thin polo shirt, I can feel his hard muscles from hours at the gym that made me regret I wrote a fictitious number. Oh well, too late.

After receiving his prize, he spoke boldly. “Listen I have to go now. I’ll call you though. Maybe, we can do something next weekend.”

“Sure. Call me.” My coy smile was mistaken for a smitten kitten. He quickly made haste and I returned to my drink with interest. My mug tilted forward ready to greet my lips when a voice made me turn my head. Iced cold amber ale spilled down the front of my shirt making me curse loudly.

“Fuck!”

 

[BigDawg69]

“Fuck!”

Her sudden exclamation made me turn away from the boyish guffaws of the guys at the table to see her soak the front of her shirt in the cold ale that was formerly held by her full mug. John was quick to offer a clean white towel from behind the bar. She snapped the towel and quickly began to pat her shirt.

I leaned over and placed my mug on the bar next to her. Without making eye contact I reached over the bar and grabbed the phone. I quickly dialed the numbers and asked for a cab to be sent quickly. Hanging up the phone I turned back to the lovely lady.

“A cab will be here in a matter of moments for you.” I said cautiously. I could not help my eyes from lowering down over where she held the small towel still trying to get the amber ale from her shirt. “John how about a glass of soda?” I turned back to her.

Anger and frustration was written all over her face and indeed her entire composure. I could tell however that this incident with the beer was simply the proverbial straw atop a heaping mound of frustration. She frantically blotted her shirt, but the beer had soaked in and through her white blouse. Leaving it quite transparent.

Swiftly I pulled my old Duke sweatshirt from over my head and held it out to her. It was large even for me and I knew it would swallow her up. Clearly she was also not the type to wear a sweatshirt, but I thought under these circumstances she might take it.

“It’s fresh from the dryer this afternoon.” I said as I held my sweatshirt to her. “I will go hold you cab for you if you would like to go and change.”

Her head slowly turned up to me. Her eyes met mine and I felt something rocket through my body. There was fear, in both our eyes. I also felt her staring through me. I tried a smile, but the look in her eyes crashed the force of my day around me. Suddenly my mind began to question everything. I even moved the sweatshirt slightly back toward myself.

My jacket hit me square in the head and draped down over my broad shoulders.

“Cover ye’self up Peter, people are tryin’ to eat here.” Patty called as he walked through the kitchen door. He turned to the woman, “Now miss, if ye’ like to change into that overgrown sweatshirt, I’ll be happy to take ye’ shirt and clean it right up for ye’. I’ve got the guaranteed cleanin’ a fine silk blouse that looses a battle with a glass of ale.” Patty stood upright and beamed a giant smile down at the woman. “Name’s Patty, and this is me pub.” He offered her his gentle old hand. She took his hand and shook it, her face now seemed surprised, even a bit in wonder of the jolly old man. “That’s Peter,” Patty gestured to me and leaned in close to her. Patty whispered something in her ear that I could not hear, to which she smiled up at me.

 

[chanaud]

I liked him at first glance. Patty had an air about him that was warm and safe like a father. It was obvious by all, he was well liked and he was someone you didn’t want to miss in your life. What he whispered in my ear made me study the tall man with a jacket draped over his shoulders. When I discovered Patty to be correct, I couldn’t help breaking out with the widest grin.

Peter avoided my eyes as he smiled back shyly. When his head turned towards Patty, I noticed his green eyes light up with respect and joviality. Though he wasn’t my type, he certainly was handsome. His boyish charm was sexy. I dared him to look in my eyes but he kept avoiding me and it seemed to be on purpose.

"Patty. Peter. Nice to meet you guys. I'm Samantha but all my friends call me Sammie for short."

“Ye can use me office to change. It’s the last door on ye right.”

Patty pointed towards the direction for me.

"Thank you. Save a pint for me, will ya Patty?I'll be back in a flash." I already felt like I knew him for a long time.

I followed his directions and knocked on the door hesitantly. When no one responded, I walked in and locked the door behind me. My eyes scanned the messy office. Papers were stacked high on his desk. Sports memorabilia and framed photographs covered the walls. Peering closer, I noticed all the photos were of Patty shaking hands with a famous athlete or a politician. What really impressed me was the one of Patty and Mickey Mantle sitting together, smoking a cigar; drinking and smiling as if they were best of friends. I had to smile at Patty as a young man. He was handsome and thin then. He certainly has changed but he still hung on to the same twinkle in his pale blue eyes.

My eyes caught a different photo that made me smile warmly. It was of Patty looking down at a woman with her head thrown back in laughter. It was obvious the way he held her and the tender look in his eyes that he was in love. As I gazed at them, I wondered if they’re still together. Then I frowned. It reminded me of the sad news earlier.

A loud snort made me jump from my skin. I looked around in panic. For the first time today, I broke out in a hearty laugh. There on the worn leather couch was an English bulldog snoring deeply. When I approached him, his eyes popped open. I walked over, petted his head dearly and rubbed his ear. He raised his head slightly, gave me a moan of contentment, laid his head back down and fell back into a deep snore. I had to laugh again.

I knew I overstayed my welcome. I changed out of my white silk blouse and pulled the gray sweatshirt over my head allowing it to fall past my rear like a short dress. I caught its cleanliness. It smelled like Dial soap with a hint of woodsy cologne. It wasn’t at all what I expected. It didn’t match his shy boyish persona. I held the sleeve to my nose and breathed in deeply. My eyes closed as I allowed it to permeate me. The bulldog’s snore reminded me I had overstayed my welcome and I left immediately.

When I arrived at the bar, Patty and Peter broke their deep conversation and greeted me with a warm smile.

“Well boys, how do I look?” I spun before them and enjoyed the amused admiration from the men before I hopped on the dark green barstool. “Does the collegiate wear suit me?”

 

[BigDawg69]

Sammie smiled up at me as Patty stood back up. I could feel my face flush with embarrassment. I diverted my eyes around the bar, but kept my face toward hers so that I could steal glances of her loveliness. I paused at Patty and he gave me a hearty wink that seemed to chuckle from deep within his heart.

Patty had been like a father to me for several years now. He gave me my first job in the city as a bartender and helped me get introduced to many of the famous figures I now rub shoulders with. I owe most of my career to him. He helped me get my first on-air interview with George Steinbrenner that made ESPN take notice. Patty seemed to be everybody’s uncle or cousin or something.

Sammie took my sweatshirt and walked slowly back to the office. John came out from the kitchen and slung a “Mother’s Pub” black t-shirt at me. It was a large and a bit tighter than I normally wear my shirts, but Patty encouraged me that was what I needed. Whatever that meant.

“Now Peter. I love ye like a son, boy. But if ye mess this one up, I’m going to have to keep your dog.” Patty smiled up at me as he perched atop one of the bar stools.

I laughed and smiled adding a bit more crimson to the tone of my face. “I don’t know Patty. This one seems a bit out of my league.”

“Aye see that’s your problem Peter. The girls you think are in your league are playing in the minors. Aye clearly she’s a major leaguer, but don’t let that stop ye.” Patty looked over at the door to his office and then back to me. “It’s time you stepped up to the plate. Time for you to play in the bigs, my friend.”

Patty set a gentle hand on my shoulder and squeezed ever so slightly. As I lowered my head and shook it slightly, he gripped tighter. “I don’t know Patty.” His grip became very tight and I winced and jerked from his hand. “Owe!”

“I do know, boy. I do know.” Patty said to me staring me straight in the eyes.

I looked up at the closed office door. My mind raced through endless possibilities. Then it hit me. Jack.

“Patty, where’s Jack?” I asked in half panic and started to move toward the office.

“Aye he’s in the office. What are you jealous of that lazy old dog now? He gets to see her change shirts afore you do?”

“No . . . well yeah, but you know Jack. He doesn’t take to just anybody.” I said fearing for both the dog and Sammie.

“Don’t worry boy. If she’s not screamed nor he’s barked yet, then they must be getting on famously.” Patty smiled and pulled me back to the bar. He motioned to John for two new pints as he sat me down. “Why do ye think I asked her to go into the office to change instead of letting her go to the ladies room?” A wide wry smile spread across his face.

The office door opened and Sammie walked out with a gait that almost seemed to be proud. I smiled at her as my eyes watched her subtle curves under my sweatshirt. As she spun around asking about her appearance I could feel my palms begin to sweat.

“Aye you’re the sexiest thing this side of the Atlantic!” Patty brushed her shoulders as he helped her to her stool. He walked past me leaning into my ear and whispered. “Remember boy, this is the bigs, confidence.” He patted my back and disappeared into the kitchen.

I turned to Sammie and caught her eye. “Patty’s right you know? About the way you look. I never thought that sweatshirt could look so good.” Especially the way the letters fell around her breasts. I thought to myself. I smiled a warm broad smile and gestured to the two pints on the bar. “Do you mind if I join you for a pint?”

 

[chanaud]

Not at all! I answered him heartily. Somehow, this magical pub raised my spirits despite all the mishaps.

We sat at the available barstools. My seat was still warm from Patty, which made me comfortable and strangely enough made me feel as if I was home. Though we sat close, we kept a comfortable distance from each other. I lifted the cold mug towards Peter and said, Heres to spilled drinks. May we not waste a drop on shirts again.

I smiled warmly at Peter but he was still determined to shy away from me. I stared at him for a long second and shrugged. I guess I can’t win them all. After taking a long sip of the refreshing ale my eyes scanned the bar looking for Patty. He was the only who seemed to keep our conversation alive.

Patty wasn’t anywhere in sight. When my eyes returned to Peter, I found him staring at me wanting to say something. I gave him a smile of encouragement, still no response. Great! I’m stuck at the bar with a mute, I thought. The toe of my black boots tapped nervously on the brass bar. My mind was racing on how to escape this situation.

”So did you attend Duke?”

Peter’s hair flopped as he nodded. “Yes. You are wearing the sweatshirt given to me by Mike Krzyzewski himself, the year they won the Final Four in 91’.”

My eyes lit up with excitement that matched my voice. "I remembered that game! They pulled the greatest upset in basketball. Duke wasn’t supposed to win against UNLV. Their team was too young and of course everyone in the sports world had given up on Krzyzewski, thinking he was cursed against winning the Championship.”

“Someone called for a cab?” A mideastern voice interrupted me.

”That must be my ride.” I paused waiting…

Peter’s face fell but he didn’t reach out to me. “Ermmm…It was nice meeting you Sammie.”

”How can I return your sweatshirt?” I asked him, my eyes imploring his.

“Oh. You can keep it…” His eyes flickered over the letters before he smiled warmly at me.

“Are you sure? This sweatshirt must mean a lot to you.” Once more chance, I decided.

”Sure. It’s my gift to you since I ruined your blouse.”

A wave of disappointment passed through me. ”Well then, we’ll exchange shirts. I will keep your sweatshirt only if you have my blouse. Deal?” I laughed at my own humor.

I searched around the bar for Patty. He was nowhere in sight. Another disappointment. This is not how I wanted this evening to end.

”Please tell Patty goodbye from me.’’

Later that night, I fell asleep recalling the day’s events and wearing the Duke sweatshirt and a smile.

 

[BigDawg69]

I walked the lovely Sam to the cab and watched as she got in. My tongue was strangely trapped in the depths of my throat. All I could do was to smile and wave as she drove off into the city night, wearing my sweatshirt.

“What the Hell are ye doin’?” Patty’s voice admonished me from the door to the pub. “Lettin’ her drive away like that? I though you were s’posed to be smart. Boy?”

I turned to Patty and shrugged my shoulders. I still found myself speechless. I shook my head. I couldn’t understand what was happening. I am the one who sweeps the women off their feet, not the other way around.

“Well come on inside then, will ye? Afore ye catch ye death out here.” Patty held the door open and ushered me back inside.

I didn’t stay at the Pub much longer. I said my good-byes to the boys, gathered up Jack and headed for the apartment. I couldn’t bear to call it “my” apartment anymore, so I resigned myself to simply refer to it as “the” apartment. Of course now that there was a fine layer of snow and wet on the ground Jack refused to walk, so I held him under my arm and trudged off through the city night.

When we arrived at the apartment, Jack drew a direct line to his oversized pillow of a bed by the radiator and curled up to sleep. Even as he lay down he seemed to look up at me and shake his head much in the same way Patty had earlier.

“Great now even the dog knows I blew it. Excellent work Peter, in one day I loose two girls and the world’s greatest sweatshirt. Nice work.” I spoke out loud as I walked into the bathroom to brush my teeth.

Standing in front of the mirror I looked at myself and questioned my sanity. Shaking my head and lowering to rinse I began to wonder if there was something wrong with me. I decided I just needed some sleep and headed for the bed. There it was. A large king sized bed with nice super soft sheets and an over abundance of pillows. It was still unmade from the previous night. It looked lonely.

With a sigh I wandered into the living room and plopped down on the old couch. I flipped on the TV and browsed through the channels, landing on an old black and white film. I didn’t really pay attention to the movie but shed my blue jeans and pulled the t-shirt off. I pulled a blanket over me and settled into the couch.

As I rolled on my side to watch the movie I saw the bar napkin hanging out of my jeans pocket. Her numbers scrolled across the napkin. I stared at the napkin for a moment, and then up at the phone. A lump gathered in my throat. Damn it was one thing to be tongue tied in a bar, quite something else to be a mute on the phone. That’s when I realized what was on the TV. I looked up and stared old Rick right in the face. Bogart never had a problem talking to women. I lay there on the couch and lost myself in Rick’s Café American nestled in the heart of Casablanca.

 

[chanaud]

So let's get a party going, let's get a party going
Now it's time to party and we'll party hard, party hard
Let's get a party going, let's get a party going
When it's time to party we will always party hard
Party hard party hard, party hard, party hard party hard, party hard, party hard party hard, party hard, party hard party hard, party hard, party hard...

The hard bass vibrated through my walls made my room shake angrily. A woman’s curdling scream brought me to consciousness.

“Oh yesssssssssss….oh my gawd….yesssssssssss
I’m cummminggggggggggggggg….oh yesssssssssssss
Haaaaaaarder…aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh”

I rolled over to my stomach, grabbed two square pillows, and pulled it over my head trying to drown the noise.

“Yessssssssss…..fuuuuuuuuucccckkkkkk”

"Shut up!

I screamed at the wall. Her screams drowned mine. I jumped out of bed, padded my way through my living room, stormed out my apartment door and pounded on my neighbor’s door.

“Shut up!!! Just because you are getting lucky doesn’t mean you have to announce it to the whole world. We don’t care! Just shut up and keep it to yourself.”

Only when the music and screaming died, did I stomp my way back to my apartment. I crawled back into bed and closed my eyes. It was too late. Counciousness grew telling me sleep was far from reality.

I grabbed the remote control from my antique walnut nightstand and pushed the power button. ESPN’s Sports Center was just ending and was announcing an exclusive interview with Mike Piazza was due next. I laughed to myself. Who cares if he’s gay.

My throat ached and screamed for relief. I padded my way to the kitchen and poured a glass of Evian. As I returned to bed, the interview was already in session. I glanced at the TV and smirked at Piazza as he tried to explain his sexuality to his interviewer and national TV. As I turned my head and set my glass down, awareness hit me. Was it he? No, it can’t be! My auburn tresses whipped around as I turned to the TV. It’s the same guy I met earlier! The same guy who gave me his Duke sweatshirt, which I’m still wearing. It was Peter!

Stunned, I sat up and tucked my knees under the sweatshirt and watched intently. Peter was asking a serious of hard-nosed questions. But Piazza didn’t seem offended and answered accordingly. Peter announced he had one final question before wrapping the interview. He asked if Mike would be next to sponsor Viagra. They both laughed and acted like fraternity boys as they faded to commercial.

I was in awe. Peter’s cool calm mannerism reeked of self-confidence. He was complete opposite from earlier. I raised the end of the sleeve to my nose and sniffed deeply. Aaahhhhh… There it was. The combination of his cologne and Dial soap permeated through me once again. Butterflies tickled my ribcage. I felt warm all of a sudden. I laid back down and drifted off to sleep with Peter’s sweatshirt sleeve against my nose.

 

[BigDawg69]

The gentle sea breeze lifted the soft tendrils of her silken hair and wafted them about her perfect face. I stood close to her; close enough to feel the heat from her skin. Our eyes met in a lasting embrace as our mouths drew closer. The only sound was the soft roar of the distant shore. The full moon washed us in its cool blue light. Her hand reached forward and touched mine, sending sheets of tingles throughout my body. Our lips drew close. Our breath intermingled. She slowly, seductively winked at me just before I could feel her soft supple lips connect with my own.

BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ!

I shot up from the couch and tripped over Jack as I sleepily stumbled toward the wailing alarm clock in the bedroom. Slapping the infernal machine to silence, I sat down on the corner of the bed wiping the sleep from my eyes. With and yawn and a shake of my head I tried to focus. I’m not sure I even know what day it is?

Slowly I stood and walked back into the great room, ignoring the stare of disgust from Jack as he tried to return to his own slumber. I plodded my way to the corner kitchen and set the coffee maker to brewing the life giving liquid. I flipped the remote and found my way to the morning edition of Sports Center. Half paying attention to the TV I nosed around for a breakfast food of some sort. I landed on some bread and peanut butter. I guess that’ll do.

“Lucky dog.” I muttered to an already sleeping Jack, as I shuffled off to the bathroom for a shower.

During the shower I tried to concentrate on my day ahead. I knew I had an interview this morning but I could not remember whom it was with. My mind kept racing back to last night at the Pub. I could not wash the image of the beautiful Sammie sitting there super sexy in my sweatshirt.

MY SWEATSHIRT! Holy shit, did I really give away my favorite Duke sweatshirt, given to me by the greatest coach in collegiate basketball history? I must have been delusional. She must be some kind of . . . something. No it was Patty. I bet that old Irishman slipped something in my beer. Damn it.

As I stood there in the shower, the hot water cascading over my shoulders, it hit me. I didn’t really need the sweatshirt as much as I felt a need to see Sammie again. There was something in her eyes that captivated me, even as I wasted the hot water.

Shaking my head, I turned the water off and proceeded to prepare for my day. As I shaved and dressed my thoughts still lingered on Sammie. Only now instead of reliving my dumbfounded performance of last night, I plotted a way to see her again. I thought about hanging out at the soup place to see if she would come back. I did have her phone number, but the thought of calling her seized my voice box.

As I grabbed my backpack to head for work I saw my ticket. My interview wasn’t today, it was on Wednesday and it wasn’t at the studio here in New York, or even up in Bristol. I had a plane to catch tomorrow to fly down to Orlando for an exclusive with Tiger Woods. Damn. I was staying down there through Sunday night. I knew I would loose all chances with Sammie if I let it go a whole week.

Call her, you will. Take her to Orlando. Jack looked up at me as I stood at the door pondering. Yoda often spoke to me through Jack. I found it very strange sometimes, but he usually gave good advice.

I shook my head as I pulled my cell phone out and looked over her numbers. Be aware of the fear. Hold you back it will. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to the Dark Side. The Dark Side leads to dying alone.

I took a deep breath and punched her digits into the phone as headed for the elevator. Looking at the phone for a moment I summoned my courage and pressed the send button.

 

[chanaud]

Sammie Pederson

Riing….Riiiing…Riiiiiiiing….

The sharp shrill of the phone echoed in my apartment as I ran around frantically from room to room, searching under everything standing still, trying to find the left shoe to my favorite black pumps.

Riing…Riiing…Riiiiiiing…

”Who could that be?” I muttered to myself. For a brief moment, I thought about picking up the phone but the glaring face of the clock was telling me I only have an hour before my flight leaves.

Ding Dong…Ding Dong…

Dammit! My cab ride is here.

”Yes, I’m coming!” I called into the intercom.

“You’s better be. Cause the meter is tickin’.”

Ugh! What an asshole! Just what I need this Monday morning - an obnoxious Brooklyn driver on the same morning that I can’t find my favorite pair of shoes. Can’t anyone in New York be nice for a change? Anyone? Yesssss! I found it. While slipping on the left shoe, I managed to simultaneously grab my black garment bag and oversized travel bag without tripping over. As soon as the door closed behind me, a familiar voice started speaking in the answering machine, “Uumm…Sammie, this is Peter. We met yesterday…..”

Peter! I stopped in my tracks and reached back for the doorknob. Shit! No, I can’t. I’m running late. I’ll call him back when I return next week. Yes, I will definitely do that. Hopefully, he can wait until then. Even though my morning started off badly, there was a spring in my steps as I hurried down the six flights of steps to my waiting ride.

Barely making the last boarding call, I finally settled in the middle seat. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel a bit uncomfortable. No, I sat there and allowed my mind to wander off. His early morning call refreshed my memory of his voice. And his voice allowed his face to shape in my head. Peter. A wistful smile formed on my lips. Peter. There was something warm and comforting about saying his name.

“Pardon me, did you say something?”

A voice broke me from my revelry.

“Uh no. Sorry, I was thinking aloud.”

How embarrassing! I opened my book, Sea Biscuit to help me distract me from my thoughts.
Three hours later, the skip of the wheels on the runway made me look up from the pages. A second glance down told me I haven’t turned a single page. Red dots formed on my cheeks at the realization of what I was doing the whole flight. I was thinking about Peter. Again.

The cool voice called from the intercom.

“Welcome to Orlando International Airport. The current temperature is 91 degrees Fahrenheit. We hope your flight was a pleasant experience. Have a pleasant visit and hope to see you again.”

 

[BigDawg69]

As I walked out of my building her phone rang in my ear. Again and again. Damn it have I missed her? Her melodic voice spoke to me through her answering machine. My heart leaped into my throat catching my voice there. I had not planned for this.

BEEP

“Uumm…Sammie, this is Peter. We met yesterday…..” I paused to try and gather my wits about me. The wrong tone on a machine is a killer. “Well I was wondering if I might be able to negotiate some visitation with my old . . . oh excuse me, your new sweatshirt? Of course if you were in it that would be great too! Seriously I would love to see you again. Please give me a call at 555-123-9876. Thanks.”

I let out a long slow breath as I curled myself into my cab. I barked my destination to the cabby and sat back into the seat. The loud tones of my cell phone broke my memory of Sammie. I quickly hit the button and put the phone to my ear.

“This is Peter . . .Oh hey George, what’s up? . . . . What? . . . No . . . well no she left me, but that’s . . . real funny, thanks for your support . . . . When? . . . Shit . . .Thanks.” I slid the phone down from my face still a bit shocked.

Leaning forward I told the driver to head for JFK instead. Apparently Tiger has decided to change the schedule and the network was nice enough to go ahead and book me on a flight to Orlando this morning. I glanced through my backpack. It was mostly empty, a few notes, the current issue of S.I. and the Sporting News. My boss’s copy of this week’s Golf Weekly, and my laptop was all that was there. I had replaced my work out clothes to my gym locker just Friday otherwise I would at least be flying with a change of clothes. As it is I will need to find a mall or something as soon as I checked into the hotel.

The hotel! I quickly picked up my phone and punched in George’s number.

George . . . Yeah I’m heading to the airport . . . the expense report will include clothes and shit . . . good . . . where am I going . . . No I know I’m going to Orlando, but what hotel? . . . .Oh sure great . . . well then it’s my choice right? . . . a suite it is then . . . let’s see shall it be the Grand Floridian down at Disney? . . . . uhm no I could do the new Portofino Bay over at Universal . . . or the Grand Bohemian downtown . . . I’ll let you know when I check in. Yeah this is going to be one expensive interview when I’m done with my expense report . . . . Hahahah gotta love a good corporate AmEx! . . . Right keep it in the Mouse House whatever . . . See ya next week.”

I hung up the phone and climbed out of the cab, slinging a wad of cash at the driver. “Keep it, Mickey’s paying for it anyway.” I yelled back to him as I darted toward the ticket counters.

Finally after a sprint through JFK and having to take my shoes off in security I made it to the gate and settled into my bulkhead seat. At least George got me a seat with room for my long legs! I felt like I breathed for the first time as I sat down. I put my head back and closed my eyes for a moment. Whew!

My eyes popped open as I swore I heard my name over the bustling last minute boarders. “Pardon me, did you say something?” I spoke out loud just kind of generally. There was a pause and no response. A little old Italian lady sitting next to me just shook her head slightly to scared to make eye contact. I smiled at her and chuckled. “Guess the voices in my head a talking to me again.” I gave her a playful yet slightly maniacal smile. She returned with a frown and went back to her book.

 

[chanaud]

Sammie

Since there wasn’t anyone waiting for me, my eyes were focused ahead trying to maneuver past the reunions of my fellow passengers and their loved ones. There was an immediate change in the temperature. After passing the crowd, I stopped briefly to set my bags down, disrobed my wool black blazer and tucked it neatly in my oversized garment bag.

A quick glance up, I can see a tall frame with wavy dark brown hair that looked vaguely familiar. He was walking with determination and steadily. My heart lurched forward at the familiarity. Could it be he? Unconsciously, my steps quickened. His stagger was definitely the same. Now, I’m practically running. Right when my arm was able to reach out and touch his shoulder, a tiny Italian woman bumped into me making me drop my garment bag.

She didn’t apologize. In fact, she just stared at me rudely as if it was my fault. “Pardon me.” I offered her. The only response I received was a deeper frown and a grumble about ‘young folks’.

After gathering my belongings again, I scanned the airport looking for him. A wave of disappointment hit me. This is crazy, I thought. It can’t be Peter. Peter is 1500 miles from here probably nursing a beer at “Patty’s.” It’s an impossibility he’s here. In fact, he had left a message on my machine right before I left. No, you’re crazy, I thought. And get him out of your mind. At least for this week while I concentrate on this convention where I will be a guest speaker.

The humidity hit me full force as soon as I stepped outdoors. I realized I didn’t pack correctly. I had packed mostly warm suits for the convention and long sleeves and jeans for evenings. I didn’t realize Florida was so warm in the winter. With a chuckle, I agreed that is was a great reason to go shopping. As I was sitting in the backseat of the cab and gazing at the palm trees, I mused silently. “This is truly paradise. Too bad I don’t have someone special to share with me.”

“Are you here for business or pleasure?” The driver asked with an accent I couldn’t quite place. By his looks, he looked as if he was Indian or from an Arab country.

“Business.” I answered politely. “How far is the hotel from the O’Rena?”

“Orena?” Obviously, he wasn’t a sports fan!

“Yes, you know, the arena where the Magic plays?” He still looked perplexed. “The Orlando Magic the basketball team?”

“Don’t know lady. I just moved here from Lebanon two months ago.” He answered curtly, obviously with shame.

Red dots rose to my cheeks. I certainly didn’t mean to embarrass him. The driver shoved a tape in the cassette deck and loud foreign chants filled the enclosed space. My face crestfallen, I sat back and felt remorse for embarrassing him. He drove slowly and carefully, allowing me to take notice how different Florida was from New York. Too bad cheesy billboards lined the highway. It took away from the breathtaking scenery, I observed. After a good half hour, the cab came to a sudden halt.

“Grand Bohemian Resort,” he announced.

 

[BigDawg69]

I spent the rest of the flight reading the article on Tiger. There was nothing really new in the magazine. Seems as though most of the Tiger Woods shocking background information has come out already. I needed a new angle for this interview. With a little over a month before the first major tournament most golf analysts are already predicting this to be the year Tiger becomes the first golfer to win all 4 majors in one calendar year. I didn’t want to go there either, to obvious.

Glancing over at the guy in the next seat over I noticed an article about Grant Hill. Hmmm the multi-million dollar bum ankle? Orlando has a home game this week; maybe I can double up the interviews and meet with Grant too. I’ll call George when I get on the ground.

The humidity hit me like a brick wall when I stepped out into the parking garage. I found my rental car easily and pulled out headed downtown. George was nice enough to call ahead and book me a room at the Bohemian and was quick on the turnaround with tickets and a time to meet with Grant. Did he say tickets? I had the top down on the Mustang I rented when I was talking to him, but I swear there was a plural tickets. Yes he said clearly two seats, courtside behind the bench. Great who was I supposed to take to the game, George? Tiger Woods?

I parked the car and walked into the lobby of the hotel. My heart stopped. There in front of me was a stunning woman. She was instantly familiar. She looked exactly like Sammie! I was dumbfounded. My backpack slid slowly off of my shoulder and I was powerless to stop it. She was checking in. I stood there just inside the door watching as a bellman escorted her from the front desk across the lavish lobby to the elevators. My tongue ceased in my throat as I thought to call out to her.

“Excuse me?” A crackled voice with a slight Spanish accent spoke to me from behind.

My head snapped around to see the troubled little doorman attempting to push a large rack of luggage past me. I shook my head back to reality and looked to the elevators as I cross over to the desk to get my room key. She stepped into the elevator and turned to face me just as the doors began to close. I still did not believe that it could possibly be Sammie until our eyes met for the briefest of moments as the doors slid to a close. I saw her eyes widen and her mouth fall open. She had recognized me!

With a new bounce in my step I quickly zipped through the check-in process. I kept checking the elevators hoping that she would re-emerge. I even stalled a bit before heading to my room. I paced about the lobby trying to decide if I should just go ahead to a store and by my week’s wardrobe now before heading upstairs. I finally resigned to at least drop off the backpack and computer before heading back out.

Almost disappointed I wandered over to the elevator and stabbed the button.

 

[chanaud]

The Grand Bohemian was well…. simply grand. The staff was efficient making check in a breeze. A young clean-cut bellhop offered to take my bags. I smiled at his youthfulness but soon a frown followed when I heard him call me ‘M’am’. The word was enough to make by back stiffen. Doesn’t he know that only women over 40 are considered ‘M’ams’? Judging at his inability to hide overzealous eagerness, I’m sure no one had taught him that.

We made our way in the elevator. When I turned to face the lobby, I could have sworn I saw a man who was familiar. He had the same height, same hair, and same coloring. I stood there stunned. The man smiled at me. I tried to step out but the elevator door snapped shut before me. I was in disbelief. Is it he? No, it can’t be him!

My heart was riding a roller coaster. My body shook to calm my nerves. What am I doing? I told myself. This is simply ridiculous. I must be going mad! I can’t believe he has consumed my whole being in the past 24 hours since I’ve met him. Everywhere I go, I see his face. No, this can’t be. I must stop thinking about him.

The room was a typical room. Better than standard but not the best. I had to sigh at the way the king size bed monopolized the room.

“What a waste,” I muttered to myself. The highlight of the room was the oversized marble bathtub and an outdoor balcony looking over a pond.

I spent an hour unpacking and hanging up my clothes. I changed into the lightest thing I brought, a pale yellow Tommy Bahama dress and dressy sandals. Dressed and nowhere to go, I mused quietly. All of a sudden, I wanted to do something. I’m tired of being alone. I didn’t have anything planned until tomorrow morning. So, it’s time to check out the floor plan of the Grand Bahamian.

 

[BigDawg69]

The large brass doors slid open slowly. Strangely I could feel my chest tighten around my beating heart as the doors gradually revealed the passengers inside the elevator. Only an older couple stepped past me into the lobby.

With a sigh I stepped onto the elevator and watched as the doors slid closed. Sixteen flights later the doors slid open once again and I made my way down the long carpeted hallway. I stepped up to my door and pulled out the key card. I glanced over it and slid it into the slot. The little lights turned green, I withdrew the card and tried the door handle. Locked. Damn I hate these doors.

Slinging my knapsack to the floor, I inserted the card again and again the lights turned green. I pulled out pushed the handle . . . nothing. I held the card up and looked at it. Just as my eyes settled on the room number printed on it’s back I could hear the door in front of me begin to move.

All the color left my face at the door I had been trying pulled slowly open. Before I could even lower my hand, over the card my eyes widened as I saw Sammie standing there. She didn’t move, her face dropped with surprise. The silent moment lingered into awkwardness.

“Sammie?” I gulped out.

 

[chanaud]

Sammie Pederson

”Peter?”

A voracious laugh escaped my throat making my head throw back. I couldn’t believe it. It was Peter! Peter in Orlando!

”What are you doing here? How? When? Oh never mind. You’re here. I thought I was seeing things. Wait. Was it you at the airport? In the lobby?’

It was obvious Peter was just as surprised as I was. His head couldn’t stop shaking in disbelief. And he was at a loss for words.

After a few long moments, he found his composure again. He grabbed me and hugged me tightly.

“How is my sweatshirt?”

What? Was that all he had to say? I released another voracious laugh. Typical male.
I would have rolled my eyes but this time I welcomed it. I welcomed him.

My hand reached out and playfully slapped his arm.

“Is that all you can say? Don’t worry. Your sweatshirt is safe. Safe in my possession, upstairs, folded neatly in a drawer.”

An evil grin played with the corner of my glossy lips. “Do you want visitation rights?”