Lizzie rested her forehead on her steering wheel. She couldn’t move. Her car was parked downtown facing the train tracks and she needed a train to come by. A big, loud train that would drown out the scream that was inside of her needing to get out. This is how she took care of overwhelming problems in high school. The fact that the last time she remembered coming to this exact spot was when her mom passed away was not lost on her.
Continue readingLizzie stood outside the library door Friday night wondering how this could possibly be her life now. Instead of a hip New York club she was waiting for someone to open the library, the li-bra-ry door of all places. On a Friday night. “Someone sure hates me,” she said and glanced upward. As soon as she did though, the thought occurred to her if she was still back in New York she would probably be working and still wouldn’t be at a hip New York club unless she was waitressing there. “Fine,” she mumbled to no one in particular. “I get it, I get it.”
Continue readingLizzie stepped off the bus and looked around. How was it possible that the small chunk of town she could see looked simultaneously different and yet the same? It was the same place she could remember growing up but with subtle changes. A Wal-Mart inhabited the old Kmart building. A Jimmy Johns was where the old A & W building used to be but that building was gone and a new one stood in its place. Some kind of boutique was where Hallmark used to be. But main street was still the same road. Probably the same potholes, she thought to herself. Although the traffic light itself seemed to be updated to the latest standards. It all felt slightly unfamiliar yet familiar enough she knew where she was. The place she never expected to come back to live.
“Is that my Lizzie?” she heard a voice behind her ask. Charles Carter was not a small man and his booming voice matched his physique.
Continue readingLizzie looked out the bus window and sighed. Even though she had done everything she could to prepare herself emotionally for this trip she could feel it taking a toll. It wasn’t just the journey but the reason behind the trip. When she left New York, she tried to play it cool, like this was what she wanted. But she knew she wasn’t fooling anyone even though they played along. This was not what she wanted to do or where she wanted to be.
Continue readingLast month’s short story was about a fictional singer that rose to prominence in the 1980’s. Probably what we would call a one-hit wonder, his flame died out fairly quickly at a young age. While I wanted to give Jimmy B. a happy ending, I just couldn’t realistically see how that was possible. So, it was a bit of a downer. Apologies for that.
Continue reading“Is your homework done?” Amanda asked her daughter Millie even though she knew the answer.
“I am just getting to it,” Millie replied rolling off the futon.
“I bet,” her mother said and picked up the remote. “Let’s get rid of the distractions, shall we?” she aimed it at the television but stopped before turning it off.
“Whatever happened to Jimmy B.?” the unseen announcer in the television show asked. “This is VH1 and you are watching Behind the Music, stay tuned.”
Amanda sat down on the futon.
“Mom?” Millie asked. “What are you doing?”
“I loved Jimmy B.!” she said. “You know, he was my very first concert.” She looked at her daughter. “I was probably about your age.”
Continue readingJimmy B sighed and closed his eyes. He hated playing this particular venue. Two years ago he played at this arena and his whole life changed. That was his first big concert with 20,000 screaming fans. Nothing could have prepared him for the whirlwind that night thrust him into.
For starters, his mom and his manager Pete drew definite lines after that concert. Neither one was willing to give an inch on Jimmy’s future. Pete was concerned with the bottom hard line: money and profit. Namely his. Jimmy’s mom was more motivated toward making sure her son was healthy and happy. The two lines never crossed and Jimmy was stuck in the middle. He often felt like a rope in a tug of war.
Continue readingJimmy B’s knee bounced nervously. He swallowed and swallowed again. His mouth felt dry. How was he going to sing with a dry mouth?
His new manager was looking over some forms and sat next to him on the couch. “Son, you need to stop that thing from shaking. I’m trying to read our agreement here. I need to focus.”
Jimmy put his hand on his knee to get it to stop moving but it didn’t work.
“Jimmy,” his mother said, “why don’t you get yourself some water?”
He nodded and stood up.
Continue readingJimmy swept the floor dutifully. He worked as a janitor for one of the small music studios that had opened during the disco fad and performed his duties with exactness and precision. In this instance, his methodical and precise ways helped him excel. Unlike when he went to school. He managed to graduate a year after the rest of his class but it was a struggle. The only way he made it was with his mom’s help. That first year of junior high was particularly rough. At least until his mom and him developed a coping system. Every day he came home and discussed some new social situation he was unfamiliar with and together they developed a plan. Armed with a memorized script of what to say if the situation arose again, he would go to school the following day. Of course, what was rehearsed the night before rarely occurred two days in a row but after several months, he had enough scripts and practiced scenarios he was able to navigate school.
Continue readingJames Bernard Peternelli sat in the chair quietly. Just as his mother instructed him to do. Of course, everything James Bernard did was donequietly. That is why he was sitting outside the junior high school’s principal’s office. He could hear his mother’s raised voice as she spoke with the principal and guidance counselor. Did he understand the meeting concerned his fate at the school? The school officials didn’t think so but his mother certainly did. That was why the two of them were at the school. His mother was determined to prove he had every right to be taught in the public school.
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ck's days 