S.M. Johnson's Blog, page 31

A Year of Sundays, ch 3 pt 2

Chapter 3 - May 18th
Part 2 of 2



"We're in the dining room packing up dishes," I called out. "Maybe you need some china?" I asked, as he appeared from the hallway.
"Hmm, roses, daisies... probably not. Doesn't fit my linear architecture or ultra-modern décor."
"Did you hire those decorators, what are they called... Straight Eye for the Queer Guy?"
"Jessamine!"  Elizabeth glared at me.
"What?" I asked. "I'm just making conversation."
"Ha-ha," Silas said, winking at me. "No. I have impeccable taste all on my own."
"Fabulous," I said. "So what kind of impeccable sofa will Josie be sleeping on?"
"One that isn't mine," Silas answered, without missing a beat.
"Oh, Jess," Elizabeth said. "That's not a lifestyle a young, impressionable girl should be subjected to."  Her voice was even, but she turned away from me while shaking her head, so I couldn't see her facial expression.
Didn't matter – Silas knew an escape route when he saw one. 
"Exactly my point. Thanks, Liz."
"Don't mention it," she answered.
Josie cracked up. "You guys are too funny. Don't worry, Si, Jessie didn't like working for you, so I'm sure living with you would be terrible. I'll be fine here. Really. New subject. Anyone?"
"I have news," Elizabeth said, and this time I could see her face, and she was half-smiling.
"You're not grinning nearly big enough to be pregnant,"  I offered.
"No, that's not it. I'm going back to school."
"Good for you, Liz," Silas said, heaving one loaded box on top of another against the wall. "That's terrific."
"Where are you going and what are you taking?" Josie wanted to know.
"Theology and Religious Studies at the private college, starting next fall," she answered, with a wry smile directed at me. "I already registered."
Did she know me, or what? "Ew," I said. "That sounds perfectly awful, but whatever works. I think it's great that you're going back to school."  
"Education feeds the mind and all that," Silas said. "Congratulations."
Josie jumped in. "Yeah, congrats. It'd be way cooler if you came to UMD with me, though. We could take classes together."
"It was Mother's idea," Elizabeth admitted. "She suggested I pursue something other than conception for a while. She was polite enough about it, but she was sort of saying in a round about way that maybe I'm too obsessed."
"Well, maybe," I agreed. "Obsessions are nice if they bring happiness. But you've been half-crazy with disappointment for a long time."
"Yeah, I think that's what she was saying. So anyway. I'm going to try not to worry about it for a while."
"That's cool," I said. "Maybe while you're not obsessing, something will happen."
"I don't know if reverse physiology actually works," Silas laughed. "But I give you kudos for pursuing your education."
"Didn't you tell me that Jeremy's planning on going to graduate school up here?" I asked him.
"Did I say that? I'm not sure what he's doing yet."
"Who's Jeremy?" Elizabeth asked.
"Silas's boyfriend," I answered.
"Not boyfriend. Not exactly. Just someone I see."
"You said you see him every weekend, Si, that makes him a boyfriend."
Silas and Elizabeth looked equally uncomfortable with this line of discussion.
"If you have a boyfriend, you have to bring him next Sunday. That's the rule," Josie announced, eyes steady on Silas.
Silas stuck his tongue out at me like he always did when we were little. "Tattle-tale," he whispered.
"Really," Elizabeth said, looking nervous. "I don't think it's at all necessary for you to bring another man to Sundays."
Silas looked relieved. "Right. I agree. There is no reason for Jeremy to meet the family. It's not like we're getting married."
"Not fair," Josie argued. "I had to bring every boyfriend I ever had. It was agony. I don't see why Silas should get out of it."
"He's an adult," Liz said. "It's different. Besides, it would be very uncomfortable."
"For who?" Josie demanded to know. "Silas? So what? Nobody cared how uncomfortable I was. If I wanted to go on a date with a guy, he had to come over on Sunday. What was it you always said, Silas? If I didn't want the family to meet him, there must be something wrong with him in the first place. Jessie, would you be uncomfortable?"
"Nope," I said. "I'm dying to meet him."
"Melanie wouldn't be uncomfortable, either. There. Three against two. I think you should bring him next week."
"I think what I meant, Jo-Jo, was that if a boy didn't want to meet your family, then he couldn't have good intentions toward you."
Josie really did have to bring every date to meet us, all through high school. We were very protective of our 'baby' sister. Which is kind of hysterical because we discouraged Melanie from bringing her low-life love interests around. Josie was special. We all felt it – she was beautiful and happy from the moment she was born, and filled our house with sunshine and light. She was our Josie, and anyone who might hurt her had better tread very, very carefully.
"He doesn't want to meet us?" Jo-Jo stamped her foot in outrage.
"No, no," Silas backtracked. "I'm sure he'd love to meet you, but –"
"It's settled, then," she said firmly. "Bring him next week."
"Aw, man," Silas groaned.
Liz hadn't said anything for a while, but the clinking china took on a sharp, fierce sound that wasn't there before.

Celebrating NaNoWriMo - $4.00 off Out of the Dungeon (!)

Happy December 1 to everyone!

Yes, I did manage to write 50,000 words of a new novel in the month of November (at the moment it's called "The Redemption of Blu, An Assassin's Tale), and to celebrate I dropped the price of Out of the Dungeon to .99 until at least January 1st. That's $4.00 off for a whole month, darlings. How awesome is that?

Buy it in multiple formats at Smashwords and for Kindle at Amazon (note that the Amazon .099 version might not show up for .99 until somewhere around Dec 3rd).

Also, watch my blog throughout December as I will be joining up with 11 other authors for some awesome conversations (not to mention awesome reads and quite possibly even more awesome prizes!) I added an email follow feature (look left, beneath my pic), to make it even easier for you to hang out with me. Because I love you, of course.

Don't forget that new installments of "A Year of Sundays" are posted on... (drum roll, please) Sundays. (does that makes sense, or what?) Now that NaNoWriMo is over for another year, I'm going to wrap my head around creating at least a temporary cover for this story.

And finally, don't forget to nominate your favorite vampire for Bloody Mondays - weekly, blood-soaked discussions wherein we shall exhume our all time favorite blood suckers and analyze them to... well... you know. And yes, my darlings, books shall be given away. After all, every venture has its blood money, yes?

Celebrating NaNoWriMo - $4.00 off Above the Dungeon (!)

Happy December 1 to everyone!

Yes, I did manage to write 50,000 words of a new novel in the month of November (at the moment it's called "The Redemption of Blu, An Assassin's Tale), and to celebrate I dropped the price of Out of the Dungeon to .99 until at least January 1st. That's $4.00 off for a whole month, darlings. How awesome is that?

Buy it in multiple formats at Smashwords and for Kindle at Amazon (note that the Amazon .099 version might not show up for .99 until somewhere around Dec 3rd).

Also, watch my blog throughout December as I will be joining up with 11 other authors for some awesome conversations (not to mention awesome reads and quite possibly even more awesome prizes!) I added an email follow feature (look left, beneath my pic), to make it even easier for you to hang out with me. Because I love you, of course.

Don't forget that new installments of "A Year of Sundays" are posted on... (drum roll, please) Sundays. (does that makes sense, or what?) Now that NaNoWriMo is over for another year, I'm going to wrap my head around creating at least a temporary cover for this story.

And finally, don't forget to nominate your favorite vampire for Bloody Mondays - weekly, blood-soaked discussions wherein we shall exhume our all time favorite blood suckers and analyze them to... well... you know. And yes, my darlings, books shall be given away. After all, every venture has its blood money, yes?

A Year of Sundays, ch 3 pt 1

Chapter 3 - May 18


Part 1 of 2


Together again, and so far not even a sideways look toward Silas. I had a good feeling that we were all going to be just fine. It's strange how death brings people together. I think it makes you realize that it's important to cherish the people you love.


I'd arrived early, by myself, and had spent the morning pulling Mom's clothes and shoes out of the closets and piling them on the bed. I figured we'd discuss where we should bring them, and then I'd handle it. I could almost feel her directing me.


I was done going through clothes, so while I waited for my sibs to show, I peered into cupboards and drawers, wracking my brain to figure out what to do with dishes, silverware, platters and decorations. I like to keep stuff to a minimum, so I don't need any of it at my house. I decorated with pictures on walls instead of knick-knacks on tables. My china cabinet is full of framed photographs, not dishes. My dining room buffet holds scrap-booking supplies, rather than candles, table cloths, and napkin rings.


I used paper plates and plastic utensils for summer parties, and my white every day dishes with fancy paper napkins and blue drinking goblets for anything more formal than that. I appreciated simplicity. The less I owned, the better.


I was looking at all the dishes and wine glasses in Mom's china cabinet when Elizabeth came in. "What are you up to, Jessie?"


"Just wondering what we're going to do with all this stuff," I said. "I suppose we'll have to get rid of it somehow."


"I was thinking about that. My church has a rummage sale every July – maybe we can donate some things."


"Yeah, that sounds good. In the meantime, let's encourage everybody to start bringing home the things they want to keep. We have to start discussing these details while we're all together."


"Maybe we'd better put stuff we want in our old bedrooms, to start with," Elizabeth suggested. "In case we have to make lottery decisions."


"Oh my God, I haven't thought about the lottery in years."


She giggled. "I don't know why I thought of that."


When we were kids we used to have lotteries – who gets to sit in the front seat, who gets to go grocery shopping with mom this week, who has to help dad mow the lawn, who has to clean the bathrooms.
"I wonder where the name bag is," I mused.


"I don't know, but I bet we find it somewhere."


Our mom used to carry the name bag in her apron pocket. It was a black velvet bag with five metal circles the size of fifty cent pieces inside. One coin for each kid. They had our names engraved on them. I think our dad had them made for our mom – probably for Mother's Day, when four of us were small, way before Josie was born. If ever there was a chore or privilege we argued over, Mom would reach into the name bag to settle it. Josie's coin was added much later, and we all suspected it was different than the others because she got more privileges and less chores than the rest of us. Wasn't that always the way, with the baby?


Our mom used that bag to assign everything. "The garbage needs to go out," she'd say, reaching her hand into the bag, "and the winner is... Melanie." Or, "Let's see, who gets to set the table? Ah, that would be Jessie."


We'd hop to it. There was no arguing with the name bag – it was random, relatively fair, and squelched a million arguments.
Josie breezed in. "So. I have to move out of the dorms, like, ASAEO."


I laughed. "ASAEO?"


"As soon as exams are over," she said.


"Which is when?" Elizabeth asked.


"June sixth. And I only get that long because I volunteered to help with clean up."


"Not an emergency then, Jose." I sighed. "We've got 3 weeks to get you moved."


"Yeah, but moved to where?"


Ding, ding, ding. I finally got it. She'd always lived here with mom in between semesters. Ah. Me see all things clear now. "We'll figure it out when everybody gets here," I said, hoping for a good idea. "You could stay at my house," I offered, although I seriously hoped she wouldn't take me up on it.


"Superior?" She feigned horror. "No thanks. Superior is an old bar whore – dressed to the nines but still showing her age. And that's on the weekends. During the week she's a bleary-eyed wreck."


I cracked up. "Wow, did you think of that yourself?"


She grinned. "Actually, I stole it from Sam."


"Figures." My husband, Sam, often came up with interesting descriptions. Usually crude. The one Josie just tossed out was cleaner than most.


The back door banged, and Melanie stalked in, looking exactly like a bleary-eyed bar whore the morning after a busy night. She must have really tied one on.


"Jesus, Mel, you look like shit."


"Excuse your mouth," Elizabeth said.


"Sorry. She does, though."


"Thank you very much," Melanie said, voice dripping sarcasm. "I had a hell of a time getting this asshole from the bar last night to effing get out of my apartment this morning."


"Nice," I said. "Sounds like a rough morning."


"Oh, Melanie." Elizabeth shook her head. "It's not right to expose Caleb to this kind of behavior."


"He's at his dad's, thank you. I don't go out when I have him."


We knew she tried not to drink when she had Caleb. Actually, she was court-ordered to stay sober during her parenting time. Now, Melanie was my sister, and of course I loved her, but I still thought it was pretty sad that a court would have to order such a thing. She got a lot of credit for being a single parent, but she didn't actually parent all that much.


"Do you have room for Josie for the summer?" I asked, in my ultra-sweetest voice.


"No, I don't. Sorry, Jo-Jo. It's too small as it is, even with Caleb only there every so often."


"No worries, Mel," Josie answered with a shudder. "Your neighborhood makes me nervous."


Melanie laughed and waved a hand in the air. "Aw, it's not that bad. Nobody ever bothers me."


"Except for that one time when your car stereo was stolen," I reminded her, "and the next time, when your whole car was stolen."


"Yeah, except for that stuff."


"My point, exactly," Josie laughed. And then she sighed. "I'll just have to stay here. By myself."


"Something will work out," I assured her, as they started to help me sort and box the dishes.


Melanie lasted almost five minutes before lifting a hand to her head.

"Okay, enough china clinking for this girl. Oh, my head. I'll go sort through Mom's dresser drawers." She wobbled up the stairs. I suspected we'd find her asleep somewhere later.


"She's not doing well since mom died," Elizabeth commented.


"I know," I said. "I hoped she'd be able to keep herself together, but it doesn't look good."


Silas's voice came then, from the direction of the front door.
 "Helloooo?"

Housekeeping

I just want to post a little bit of housekeeping stuff, so those of you who so willingly follow me into the dark will have at least a pen-light for guidance. (smile). And I want to prepare everyone for what will be happening in January (good stuff, I promise!)
DeVante's Children is now available in paperback and EBOOK.




 Yay! So now I can strongly encourage new readers to read the DeVante series in the proper order


1. Children
2. Coven
The short story, DeVante's Curse (see below) may be read in any order.


There is a whole story, of course, about how Children and Coven ended up being published out of order. I'm sure the story is on this blog somewhere, but I can't find it. So. Here's the deal.


DeVante's Children was accepted for publication as an ebook by Torquere Press early in 2009.


Then DeVante's Coven won a contest and the prize was a standard paperback contract with Rebel Satori Press. Coven was released in paperback in the fall of 2009. While Children was still an ebook under a 2 year contract with Torquere.


Yes, it was confusing for a while, but I knew it would smooth itself out eventually. Which it now has.


Okay. Now, along with the release of DeVante's Children comes a dark  short story called DeVante's Curse. Buy the EBOOK for .99. Really. Go buy it. Now. It's okay, I'll wait….





DeVante's Curse visits DeVante back when he was a young man kept prisoner in Katarina's castle. DeVante, as my readers know, keeps a bit of a cold distance between himself and humanity, but which came first, the monster or the man?


Okay now about JANUARY 2012.


OMG! This is going to be soooo much fun. I can hardly wait.


I'm going to run a weekly feature tentatively called Bloody Mondays. Bloody Mondays will be interactive, and, I hope, really, really fun. I am going to profile a vampire each week on my blog. I would like readers to nominate their favorite vamps, by 


a) just tossing a name my way via blog comments, email, or twitter 


b) tossing a name and a QUOTE from said vamp my way via blog comments, email, or twitter.


I would most prefer the nomination to come with a quote, just as a basis for starting a discussion. But I figure it this way – if you're nominating your favorite vampire, you might know a quote off the top of your head, right?


Then throughout the week we'll generate comments about that particular vampire. His skills, limitations, magical abilities, flaws… who does he love or hate or love to hate? What does he think about being a vampire? Did he seek the change or abhor it?


Whatever we can brainstorm about this vamp, we'll do it.


And I'll add another page tab with links to our Vampire Vogue pages, so if you ever want to refer back to the info on your favorite vamp, it'll be easy to find.


You don't have to nominate my vamps, either. I LOVE vampires – so let's remember and explore our favorites throughout time. If I don't get any nominations I will, of course, pick MY favorites.


Starting with THE vampire that began my lifelong obsession: Count Dracula as played by George Hamilton in the 1979 film Love at First Bite.


Oh! Oh! Oh! And I almost forgot to tell you about the prizes. There will be prizes – every week! A free full-length or short story ebook.


Yay – prizes!


Okay, that's what I've got for housekeeping. Thanks for hanging out with me for a little while. I can hardly wait to play in January!


~SM

A Year of Sundays, ch 2 pt 2

 

Chapter 2 – May 11th Mother's Day

Part 2 of 2

Elizabeth attacked first. "For God's sake, Si, you're thirty-eight years old. You can't be gay. This is ridiculous. How ever did you come up with such a thing?"

He looked more relaxed among us than he had in years. He shook his head and rolled his eyes. "I've always been gay, Liz. You might have noticed I never bring girls around."

"Well, of course not," she answered. "You've been busy with your career, establishing yourself and making money. You haven't had time for screwing around."

"Oh, I've had plenty of time for screwing around."

"You never brought any guys around, either," Melanie pointed out, piecing together the puzzle of his life.

"I've never been that serious about anyone."

"Until now?" I guessed.

He steepled his fingers and bumped his chin against them. "Something like that. Maybe."

I was surprised, but then again not. Mom wasn't the only one who noticed he's been... well, different, for a while now. More talkative. Friendlier. Not scowling all the time. And not hung over from the night before.

Elizabeth was lost in her own worries. "You're going to hell, you know."

"Lay off, Liz," Melanie said. "We don't need this."

Silas held up his hand. "No, it's all right. Elizabeth can say whatever she needs to say." He looked straight into her face. "But let me tell you, hell is living a lie. I don't care if you're angry. Mom said I have to tell you, and now it's done." He winked at me. "It's like I just lost a thousand pounds."

"I'm glad you told us," Josie added in her soft little girl voice. "I'd rather know who you really are than to believe in the person you pretend to be. There are a lot of gays and lesbians at school, it's as normal as anything, to me." She looked at Elizabeth. "I can understand being upset that you never knew, but Sissy, it's silly to get worked up about what is. Silas can't change it."

"He could try," Elizabeth said. "He doesn't have to engage in that lifestyle – he could be celibate – then he could confess his sins and be new again."

Melanie crossed her arms over her chest and slouched in her chair. "You know, it just figures. Mr. God's Gift to Women is gay. I swear, it's damn near impossible to find a decent, eligible, straight guy these days."

"I have a confession to make," I said, and all eyes turn toward me.

"Not you, too!" Elizabeth exclaims, horrified.

I rolled my eyes. I wasn't going to take that bait. "I knew. About Silas, I mean. I've known for a long time."

Melanie glared at me. "He told you, but not the rest of us? Silas!"

"No, no." I backtracked. "We haven't had a conspiracy behind everyone's back about it. I saw him out one night, when I went to a drag show with my co-workers."

"When was this?" Melanie wanted to know. None of us liked being left out of knowing something about the rest of us.

"Long time ago. When I worked at Uniprise. One of the girls on my team was a drag king. Funniest thing you ever saw – she looked exactly the same dressed for the drag show as she always looked at her desk at work."

"He could have been there with friends, like you were." That was Elizabeth, keeping herself in denial as long as possible.

Silas stared at the ceiling. "And that, boys and girls, is why I so rarely go out on the town in either of these twin ports, Duluth or Superior. Too many eyes."

"The rule on serious boyfriends, by the way," said Josie, "is that they're supposed to come to Sundays. I don't see that the rule should be any different for Silas."

Elizabeth looked like she might faint. "Silas doesn't have any boyfriends. I mean look at him, he's what Melanie said, God's gift to women!"

"God's gift to men," I murmured.

"Not helping, Jess," Silas whispered loudly.

Elizabeth continued her denial. "Just because you think you saw something, Jessie, doesn't make it true."

"Oh, it's true," Silas said with a wry grin.

"Shut up, Si," Elizabeth snapped at him. "I refuse to believe that my brother is a pervert."

"He's not a pervert!" Josie exclaimed.

Melanie jumped in, too. "Come on, Elizabeth. It's not the end of the world. I mean, there are much worse things."

"I don't know what," Elizabeth scowled.

Melanie listed a few worse things. "Serial killers, child molesters..." I thought I saw Silas flinch, but maybe he had something in his eye. "Lots of things are worse," Melanie finished.

"Okay, okay, I give. Since you're all going to gang up on me," Elizabeth said. "Can we just quit talking about it?"

"Amen," Silas quickly agreed.

Josie grinned liked she loved the whole thing. "So Si-si, are you a top, or a bottom?"

Silas turned red. "This topic of discussion is officially closed. It's time for Josie's treasure hunt idea. I'll order pizza."

We split up then, and it really was like a treasure hunt.

I ran into Silas in Mom's room. He was holding one of her journals. "You should take these, Jessie. After all, you're the family secret-keeper."

"I could," I said, "but don't you think everybody should get a chance to read them?"

"No. You should read them first. Then you can tear out anything that might be hurtful."

"You think I should edit Mom's journals?"

"Who better than you?"

It was an idea that felt weird in my gut. "I don't know – it seems kind of wrong."

"It might be kinder than just tossing them out there."

"True. I'll give you that. Speaking of tossing things out there – should I have told you at some point that I knew your big secret? Seems like maybe you could have used some family support."

"Nah. Don't worry about it. I would have been mortified. Was I wasted when you saw me?"

"I don't know. I didn't hang around long enough to judge. I got the hell out of there. You were dancing with some guy, and kissing him. With tongue."

"In other words... wasted."

"You do an awful lot of out-of-town purchasing."

"Yes, I do."

"I bet you're not always purchasing."

He raised an eyebrow. Then winked. "I'll never tell."

"Josie wants you to bring your boyfriend some Sunday."

Without hesitation he said, "That's a terrible idea. Jeremy... well. Jeremy won't make Elizabeth feel any better about my 'lifestyle.' He's younger."

A name. Jeremy. Now my curiosity was peaked. I wondered what else I could get out of him. "How much younger?"

"Closer to Josie's age than to mine."

"Holy shit." Silas was eighteen when Josie was born.

"Like I said, won't help my cause with Elizabeth."

"Ah well, you should bring him anyway. It's only fair. We've always brought ours."

"I don't know. Bringing him to meet the family just screams commitment. And I'm not sure of this whole 'relationship' idea. It's hard to keep a whole relationship in the closet. I keep trying to get rid of him, but he just won't go away."

"That's funny. How long have you known him?"

"Not long. One of my lesbian friends sicced him on me by giving him my phone number. And I just can't seem to shake him. Now the little pain-in-my-ass applied to graduate school up here. Says he's tired of only having me on the weekends."

"You're not going to kill him to get away from him, I hope. I mean, it'd be awful if you turned into serial killer."

"If he moves up here, I might." His grin told me he was joking. "I like having all my friends in Minneapolis. I buzz down there Friday, stay the weekend at my apartment, and then high-tail it back here Sunday morning."

"Wow. That explains why you're so bleary-eyed on Sundays. Jesus, an apartment. Talk about living for the weekends. So you've had what, a million one-night stands?"

He grinned wolfishly. "Some of them two nights. Am I freaking you out?"

"Not really. This feels like the first real conversation we've had in twenty years."

"It probably is."

"So what's he like, this boyfriend of yours?"

He rolled his eyes, but smiled. "Young. Blond. Blue eyes. Full of the beauty and promise of youth. I'm sure everyone will love him." Then under his breath he added softly, "They always do."

I laughed. "Oh, I'm sure plenty of them love you."

"Most of them," he conceded with a grin. "But you know me. I don't have the innocent exuberance thing going for me – I never did."

"I'm sure it's hard to maintain innocent exuberance when you're hiding in the closet. So I guess he's dynamite in bed, hmm?"

"Mum's the word, Sister-mine. I'd tell you, but your ears would bleed, and we can't have that."

He raised his eyebrows at me again, picked up a paper-weight from our mom's bedside table, and cocked an imaginary gun as he exited the room.

End of conversation.

So Silas had the agate paper-weight – the kind where the rock's been cut in half, with the flat side polished smooth to show all the lines and colors of a Lake Superior Agate. The secret beauty nature hides inside a hard, ugly shell of stone.

Elizabeth had our mom's sterling silver brush and mirror vanity set. When we were very small, our mom had long, long hair, and brushed it one hundred strokes every night before she went to bed. She used to brush Elizabeth's hair like that, too.

Melanie's hands were empty, but when my eyes asked the question, she gestured to the a print on the wall by local artist Craig Blacklock. It was a picture of a timber wolf that our mom gave to our dad the Christmas before he died.

I held a travel mug that I'd bought for my mother at Starbucks the first time we went to New York City together. It had been the trip of a lifetime, a magical few days where I didn't have to share my mother with anyone.

Josie had Mom's robe across her lap. "It still smells like her," she whispered to me.

And just like Melanie predicted, none of us had any issues with the items our siblings wanted to take home this first sad Sunday without our mother. Funny, how five children from the same two parents are so completely different from one other.

This is Thursday (and thank goodness)

I Miss My Friend

   

      I miss my friend.

     There, I've said it (almost) out loud.

I miss my friend.

I miss the phone calls ten times a day.

I miss having someone know my whole true self,

Someone with whom I couldn't wait to share

     my latest obsessions, my strangest thoughts.

I miss her, because not only would she not be shocked,

     she would say, "I feel that way, too!"

To hear someone say, "I have felt the same as you – "

There is great relief in that,

Great comfort.

To have had it once, and for it now to be gone –

     is pain.

So World, Life, Irony – I shout it out to you –

I MISS MY FRIEND.

And now I shall tuck it quietly back inside my heart,

Smaller than a mouse

Not allowing even the daintiest squeak

Because although I can say, "I miss my friend,"

She can't ever be allowed

in my heart again.

~smj 1.27.04

A Year of Sundays, ch 2 pt 1

Chapter 2 – May 11th, Mother's Day
Part 1 of 2

"How the hell did this Sunday thing start, anyway?"

It was Silas who finally broke the silence. We'd been staring at each other with nothing to say for a half an hour. Everybody but Josie, who hadn't shown up yet.

The hospital bed was already gone. The den looked lonely without it.

I shrugged. I knew the story was stored somewhere in my brain, but didn't have the energy to dig for it. We buried our mother three days ago, and it felt strange to be at her house on Mother's Day without her.

Elizabeth answered. "Grandma started it, when great Uncle George got electrocuted and Aunt May had to go to work full time. Poor Aunt May had never worked, and she had the three kids to raise. So Grandma started getting all the women of the family together on Sundays, and they'd cook all day – don't you guys remember that? They'd make a week's worth of meals to send home with Aunt May. They did that for years, and eventually the men started showing up for the food. Sometimes the women made so much that everybody took home meals. Anyway, it started even before Mom and Dad got married, and just... continued."

Josie came in. She looked tired and sad. "Aw," she said. "You guys look tired and sad."

"We're talking about how Sundays started," I told her, so she could join in if she wanted to.

"Oh yeah, Sissy and I were talking about that after the funeral."

Well, no wonder Elizabeth had the answer right off. They'd already talked about it.

"So, I had an idea," Josie said, "because I knew today would suck. Everybody should wander through the house and pick their favorite thing. Then we meet back here in an hour or so and talk about what we found and why we want it."

Silas groaned. "Then what, we start fighting over shit right away?"

"Oh, come on, Silas, we're not going to want the same stuff," Melanie said.

Silas shrugged. I knew what he was about to do, and I could see the dread in his expression. "Let's hold off for a while. Mom said I have to tell you guys something today. And I want to get it over with, because if it were up to me, I wouldn't tell you at all."

I felt nervous for him, and glad that we chose to have a sibling-only Sunday.

Traditionally, everybody was welcome on Sundays – husbands, kids, boyfriends, best friends. Didn't matter who you brought on Sunday, so long as you showed up. And if you were out of town or otherwise unavailable, you were expected to call at 5:05 during dinner, with food in front of you, wherever you were.
Our sacred Sundays made us different from other families. It was intimidating for some of our boyfriends, for sure, but absolutely comforting for our kids. I hope we're closer than other families. Mom hoped so, too. And I know that's exactly why Silas had to tell us what he had to tell us.

"Oh Silas," Melanie groused. "Always so dramatic. What is it?"

He sighed, and then ran his fingers through his hair, and scrubbed his face with his hands. "Okay. Here's the deal. I'm going to spit it out, to all of you at once. No line-up in the den, one-at-a-fucking-time. And then I'm going to get up and walk outside. I don't want to hear a word, or see a look, or answer a question, until I come back." He looked at us each in turn, dark eyes burning. "I'm serious."

He paced across the room and back. Then looked at us one more time, and finally he just said it.

"I'm gay."

And then he walked out.

I waited long enough to see their initial reactions – Melanie's face froze in surprise, Josie smiled and shook her head, and Elizabeth's mouth opened, then closed, opened, then closed, as she searched for words.
Then I went after my brother.

He was leaning against the back gate with his eyes fixed on the windows of his old bedroom. And he was smoking.

I mirrored his stance, the gate groaning when I added my weight against it. "I've known for a long time."

"No shit?" He offered me his cigarette. Only it wasn't tobacco.

I took a hit and handed it back to him, fighting the cough that wanted to come when the smoke burned my lungs. Then I made the mistake of picturing Elizabeth at a loss for words, and choked on a laugh. The marijuana smoke burned and tripped my vocal chords as it escaped. "God, that hurts," I managed to croak.

"Yeah," he said, and offered the joint again.

I waved it away. "I'm good."

"How did you know?" he asked.

"I saw you at a club one night, making out with a guy."

"Well. That would do it."

"I'm glad you told us. It was a heavy secret, even for me. I can't imagine how heavy it's been for you."

He shrugged. He's a man more of expression and body language than words, so you get a lot of his message with your eyes. "It gets to be habit, starts to feel normal, even."

I pictured Elizabeth again, gasping for words the way a fish out of water gasps for water, and I giggled.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

I flapped my hands and tried to talk, but only laughed harder. "Elizabeth," I finally managed to say. "Her face," and then I laughed so hard I couldn't breathe.

Silas chuckled along with me. "She's going to be a tough sell," he commented, and we stood there, giggling.

The marijuana must have made it to my brain, because I couldn't stop laughing.

Silas sobered first. "I have to go back in there."

"Yeah," I agreed. "It won't be so bad."

He gave me a look that clearly said, yeah, whatever, and we went back in.

They were all still in the living room, talking, when we came into the house, but all talk stopped when we entered the room. I sat on the couch next to Josie. Melanie and Elizabeth were in the wing chairs that flanked the couch. Silas folded himself to the floor in front of the television, so we were all facing him. The firing squad. I almost started laughing again.

Thursday Fiction on Friday

(smile).

Happy NaNoWriMo! Anybody but me writing a 50,000 word novel  (or 50,000 words of a novel) in November? As of last night, my word count was 23,000. Which it awesome and means that if I need to slack later in the month, I will have some wiggle room to do so. Whew.

So I am writing a little something for NaNo that I am calling, "The Redemption of Assassin Blu."

It's the year 2070, and Kam, Alley Jack are scruffers - kids left on their own when their parents are taken by the Rapture. In that odd time of life in between childhood and adulthood they must learn to survive on the fringe. When Kam and Jack realize there's something way hinky about the people being Raptured, they head north to find a man called Yeshua, who Kam's heard is all to the good. Just before they catch a train north, Kam and Jack run into Kam's lifebond friend, Moxie. Turns out Moxie's already fallen under Yeshua's spell, and she insists he's the real deal.

Blu's handler sends her to pass Judgment on the so-called prophet Yeshua, but every time Blu gets near him, her technology goes on the blink, and she remembers more and more what it is to be human. Yeshua says no one but God Himself has the authority to pass Judgment... but if he convinces Blu that she's been a bad, bad little assassin, can her psyche handle the guilt or will she self-destruct?

Would ya'll like to meet a girl named Blu? Yeah, I thought so. Here you are then. (Remember to be kind – this is rough draft in the raw).

An excerpt from "The Redemption of Assassin Blu"

There was some thought trying to grow way deep in my head. It was niggling, pushing, and I kept searching it out the same way my tongue liked to worry against a sore tooth. Something, something. Yeshua reminded me of someone, or made me want to remember something, or at least wanted me to be aware that I'd lost something.

No. None of that made sense. Anything I'd lost, I'd been willing to give up. I mean, that was a given the first day of training and every day after – that I'd chosen this path for a reason, and it was an acceptable reason, and there was nothing in my old life that needed remembering or care. Nothing.

Don't wonder. I let go of the handle bar with one hand and lifted it to finger my ear lobe. Counted notches, and forced myself to review past missions, looking for mistakes, missed opportunities, fuck- ups.

The only significant fuck-ups involved bystanders, those goddamned unpredictable people that were forever getting in the way. There was a kid once, just a little tyke, broke away from his momma or caregroup, and ran into my legs, tangling me up in myself, and I almost fell, and I was cursing because the Judged was in my sight, and I had one shot, and if I missed he'd go to ground and I'd never fucking find him ever again. And that would be failure. But the kid was there, and too young or too stupid to realize  he was interfering, and without conscious thought I picked him up and threw him aside. And then I found my stance, took my shot, and watched the Judged go down. And it was whole long seconds later that I heard screaming and wailing and realized I'd tossed the little shit right into the street. The sirens came, and I got the hell out of there. But I got my quarry. That was the important thing.

It was better to review the ones that went like clockwork, though, when I could congratulate myself for a particularly smooth operation.

The ten-two-three exercise, for instance. Ten targets, two square miles, three days. Every death had to appear natural or accidental, and if a single one raised enforcement flags toward an outside source, the whole mission was a fail and would require repeating.

We worked in pairs, and the targets had no rhyme or reason, except three of them worked for the same anti-Church organization, which was definitely tricky, because number two sure seemed suspicious in relation to number one, and we had to stage a murder-suicide for number three because it was the only thing we could think of that wouldn't raise suspicion. Lost a half a point for killing number three's wife, but then got a kudos from the handler, because the anti-Church organization continued  afterward to implode itself out of existence.

We got our assigned targets one at a time, and only received the next when the last was deemed a clear kill.

Target number nine was a fellow training mate that I'd sort of gotten attached to. Attached in the sense that we shared a dorm, and, more often than not, a bed in that dorm. We talked long into the night sometimes, assuring each other that we'd made the right choice, that we'd get through training, that we'd be good enough to survive. We counseled one another not to fear death, but to accept it, and not to hope that death wouldn't come, but to hope it came with dignity. I listened to my handler whisper the name into my ear, and my stomach clenched and my heart seized. If there were any moments during training that I felt joy, they were moments spent with him. But now he was the Judged, and I would have to set aside my personal feelings and do my job.

Sometimes, when I let myself, I wondered at my ability to succeed. But that was in the early days, and I no longer allowed myself such thinking.

I did what I had to do. If I failed, I'd become a target on someone else's list. I was crying when I pressed his windpipe closed, almost gently at first, and I stared into his eyes and let him breathe a little, just long enough that he could stare back into my eyes and fill me with his seed. And then I pressed my lips to his, pressed his windpipe closed, and tasted my own tears from his skin as he died.

My partner participated only as much as being my lookout in the hallway. I wouldn't allow him any more than that, because if number nine didn't die with dignity, I knew I would have to kill myself.

Target number ten was my partner.

I'd assumed up to that point that we were working off the same list.

I supposed that I was his number ten. Not that it mattered.

Tuesday Tribute: How to buy local for the Holidays

The Tribute goes to a local teacher who is sending this great message around.

***Note: the jist of the post was shamelessly stolen from a mass email that I recently received. But I've edited it considerably because the tone of the email sounded as if it were addressing pre-school aged children. And pre-school aged children should definitely NOT be reading this blog.

Rather than supporting China and Taiwan by buying more plastic crap, consider supporting local merchants with your dollars this holiday season.

Gift wrapped, plastic, and available at WalMart does not automatically equal the best gift ever. Here are some ideas for cool, useful gifts that support your local economy, no matter where you live:

Gift certificates for the following:

a hair salon or barber

A local gym, spa, or health club (or even a YMCA membership)

Car washes and detailing

Driveway sealant service, or lawn mowing for the summer, or driveway plowing all winter, or comp games at the local golf course

Certificates to locally owned restaurants,  the cozy café, or the greasy spoon, or small bakery 

Oil changes

Cleaning lady for a day

Computer  tune-up from a young guy struggling to get his repair business up and running

Gift someone an evening at the local theater, ballet, comedy club, or music venue

Local crafts people spin their own wool and knit them into scarves. They make jewelry, and pottery, and beautiful wooden boxes. There are many fall bazaars, often at local churches, where these items can be found.

Perhaps the best gift you can give yourself and your community is to attempt to spend your dollars locally. Peace.