not a boat

'it's not a functional shape for a boat.' i argued as he encouraged me to help him put it in the water. 'its fine, it's fine...you'll see. just help!' i felt frustrated because i knew how much work he had invested in his project and as i looked at the rough shore break and then down at the miniature boat (which was really no more than a wooden shoe box) i felt certain it would take on water almost instantly, tip over and sink like a rock. 'c'mon,' i pleaded, 'let's just tie a string to it so you don't lose it if the worst happens- we at least can haul it back'. 'I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT ANYMORE. I JUST WANT YOUR HELP!' the old man was shaking now and i could see it it was almost impossible for him to bend down to the water. it was worse for him to be questioned than to make an adjustment. 'alright, alright, calm down. of course i'll help you. i just want your boat to come back to you, that's all', i said as i easily picked up the box and moved to the water's edge. his cane was sinking into the wet sand and he was starting to lean like the tower of pizza. even though i worried about him tipping over, i held my tongue. i figured the sand was at least soft enough that he wouldn't break his hip if he fell. as i got closer to the water his eyes started to shine and he waved his hand in a jerky manner like a marionette. 'go on, put it in!' he pressed. i reached down and tried to place the box over the rough waves with a helpful little thrust. almost instantly it filled with water and was dragged out by a long receding wave. i tried to run after it, but the next set of waves was bigger still and it was no use. i was filled with disappointment. when i looked back to the shore the old man was already moving away from the water toward the car. he was swearing off ever making any more effort to accomplish anything ever again. i stood and watched him struggle against the sand and i felt angry at his pig-headed ways and vowed i would never be like him no matter how old i got. i waited for him to reach the tarmac of the parking lot before i started back myself. the box had washed back onto the shore near my feet. i left it there.

i drove him back to his house and did not once try to break his angry silence.

robert

robert had inexplicably turned up in our circle again and much to my surprise all the sparks were still firing between us. i did my best to keep it light, but more than once we held each other's eyes a bit too long. 'nothing is there.', i said to my friends, 'it's just familiarity disguising itself as current attraction.' they traded raised eyebrows and skeptical smirks among each other but they let me be all the same.

a few gatherings and dinners had found robert and i near each other and everything seemed easy about it- all part of a particularly good summer and it was fun. we never tried to find each other alone even though as the nights grew hotter and the days elongated into what felt like perpetual twilight my increasingly perfect mojitos were blurring all the clear lines. we drank without caution from a cool, endless, minty, lime-y, spring-fed, rum-soaked stream.

after one saturday dinner party, midnight found me trotting after him with his forgotten jacket in my hand. when he heard my footsteps, he turned turned abruptly toward me and the serious look on his face stopped me dead in my tracks. 'don't,' he said, 'it's not safe.' i took in his words and after a beat i said, 'oh. yes, right.' and i turned back toward the house. he was 10 yards away from me, but i could hear him break into a full run after me. in an instant we were both running as fast as we could, which was difficult because we were both falling apart with laughter.

guy fieri army

i was working in france as an artist in training at madame tussauds. the doctor was still alive then and much of my work was anatomical and meant for him to use in his lectures to young medical students. i had spent so much of my time creating hearts, livers, spleens, lungs, tendons and vascular systems that was sure i could create the organs and muscles of the body with my eyes closed. the days i replicated butterflied cadavers were the best for me as i could at least give each body a face, neck, hands, feet... skin. my 'corpses' were always beautiful and i gave each a history as i sculpted to help me bring realism to my work. i would picture brothers, sisters, young husbands and grieving relatives sitting solemnly in a viewing parlor trying to hold back tears. 'lisette' had loved poetry, 'elodie' had been an avid bird watcher, 'marguerite' had married a man she did not love and died in childbirth. many of the young doctors would fall in love with a particular work and comment over and over that my pieces looked as though they were still alive but sleeping. this gave me great satisfaction but made my longing to work on 'living' sculptures even more intense.

one day a new apprentice arrived. i looked up from my wax and smiled at her before i continued to carve the details of the exposed knee joint i was working on. madame tussaud shooed me away from my piece and wordlessly indicated to the young woman it was now her task. i felt confused, but when i looked into madame's eyes i understood it was my time to work on the 'living'. i felt my heart would burst with joy. i followed her into the biggest studio and was immediately put to work dipping the figures into blue beeswax. i smiled so wide because i had always wondered how the depth of skin-tone was created (my 'cadavers' were always a pale white/pink) and now that i saw the giant vats of blue, red and yellow with the figures suspended above them, i immediately understood the beautiful simplicity of the process. i pulled on clean sleeve protectors and readied myself for work.

as i guided the first piece toward the blue bath, i was startled by a thunderous roar. i must have held the question in my face because one of the master workers said, 'don't worry. it's only the nuremberg car rally.' i looked out the floor to ceiling french windows onto the square below and saw at least a half a million 'car enthusiasts' standing next to their prized 1940's cars and all dressed as some interpretation of guy fieri. 'i, i thought we are in paris...' i stammered. 'we are,' answered another master, 'it's just that there are so many germans we can see them from here.'

i looked out over the sea of short sleeved flame printed shirts and badly bleached spiked hair and thought about how ugly it all looked to me. i resolved to block it out of my field of awareness and dipped my first wax figure into the hot liquid blue beeswax.

the woman

she spent her days packing and unpacking her collection of cold war era soviet citizen clothing. all items were washed, pressed and folded carefully into layers of tissue paper before being put away. her expression was one of distant worry. her mannerisms described quite urgency. when she looked up from her task at all, it was to stare beyond her curtain-less window, hands frozen mid-fold and listen for a moment before resuming her work.

the women on the street talked about her in an unkind way. they mocked her pointless and repetitive behavior (which they could see through the window) and often broke out into cruel laughter when one of them imitated her movements. i never stopped them even though i didn't share their disdain. in fact, i brought the woman food and would often spend afternoons in her apartment quietly reading a book after cleaning up our lunch dishes. the woman never gave any indication that my presence mattered to her, but i just thought sometimes it would help her if she was not alone.

from time to time when i was out having fun the woman would cross my mind. i would shake my head to empty her presence and look for the closest thing to make me happy.

cameras everywhere

there were cameras everywhere. it had become the custom to wear elaborately embroidered face coverings whenever you went outside.

not a party trick

if the water was in the shape of a square, i could drop the shape of a circle into it. if it was a circle, i could drop a square into it. it wasn't a party trick, i didn't understand it either. everyone kept asking me to do it again and again and i kept feeling surprised every time someone called out the shape before it hit the water and it worked.

the house was huge and there was a croquet game going on out on the lawn.

something about mica

michael jackson finally comes out

michael jackson had finally come out to his inner circle and he was happy at last. we were in new zealand and he was still eccentric (stayed in pj's all day like hef and lived his life in bed like anna nicole) but he was off drugs and smiled all the time. his children were still little and they joyfully crawled all over him like puppies. he talked about his boyfriend all the time but i still hadn't met him. his suite faced the ocean and though it was an overcast day i opened all the french doors wide because the view was spectacular. now and again locals would make their way past on the rocky beach below and glance up to see michael enthroned like a king in his luxurious bed. once they recognized him they would call his name, get him to smile and wave and then promptly reply with a grumpy raspberry without breaking a step. michael asked me why they were doing that. i told him they liked his music but kiwis don't believe in the cult of celebrity. i was glad about it because i knew it was good for him to have a taste of being as normal as was possible on planet earth- at least for awhile.

the day unfolded and friends were dropping in and out. it was so fun. we were getting his room ready for a party and the children were cutting out color xerox's of their daddy with rounded scissors to tape on the walls. throughout the day i noticed a very slender, impossibly elegant man milling about in the background. he was cordial but very reserved. at first i thought he was one of michael's surgeons, but after a few hours of watching how carefully he avoided interacting with michael i was pretty sure it was his boyfriend. 'is that him?' i whispered to michael. 'YES!' he squealed with delight. michael motioned for the man and then introduced us. they were both grinning like children. 'you two look like you were made for each other.' i said. they reached for each others hand and shared a smile before sharing it with me. it was a happy moment.

soon we were in the joyful chaos of a party. the music was too loud, the room was too crowded and everyone was having a great time. i leaned over to ask michael something and the woman sitting next to him turned to face me. it was my dear friend ann and we did 'the girl squeal' upon recognizing each other and promptly jumped into where we had left off in our last conversation 6 months and 10,000 miles ago.

for whatever it's worth

he came up from behind and leaned down pressing his mouth close to my ear, 'what's really going on here, shandra?. i smiled without turning my head toward him but not moving away either, 'i'm not sure, what do you think it is?', i said as he breathed into my neck. i could hear his smile in the way he formed his words. 'lady, you are terrible...', he said playfully. 'well, it's a terrible world. i'm purely a reflection of my environment.' i volleyed back. just then david passed us and started an animated and enthusiastic greeting. my flame walked from behind me and put himself between david and i as though he wasn't there. david shrugged and walked away into the crowd. he was facing me now and i remember thinking that his eyes were beautiful and reflected his intelligence. 'what are we going to do about this?' his voice was soft and intimate. i looked up at him and pressed my body closer. i wanted to feel him nearer still. his eyes narrowed and i felt his breath grow shallow. i wanted so much to kiss him but i did not. 'in truth, you're not really available for this are you, darling?' i said gently. he looked at me for a long while and i could see he was trying to know the true answer before he spoke. with a rueful edge he admitted, 'no, you're right. i am not.' 'well then,' i whispered, 'that is what is going on...'. i looked up at him again and smiled. he put his hands on my arms and squeezed tightly as he let out an exasperated sigh. 'for whatever it's worth,' i said, 'i feel the same.' i moved away from him and slipped into the tangle of party goers. i could feel his eyes follow me.

not lennie

at first i thought he was like lennie from of mice and men- huge and harmless. the smile on his face seemed genuine and his strange mannerisms and inappropriate timing seemed childlike not ominous. as we unloaded our possessions from the moving truck, he stood like a grinning tower in a corny, contemporary hawaiian shirt amid the running children, wagging dogs and piles of boxes. he wasn't exactly in the way- but we had to pass through the shadow he cast on the stone path to the house every time we carried in a box. i was the second eldest of the children and i (with my entire 15 years of worldly experience...) had assessed him as mildly annoying but not a danger. it was only by chance that i saw him walking away with three of the little ones before he disappeared around the corner. i ran down the street and snatched the hands of the children away from him. 'now you stay away.' i said to him angrily. he seemed hurt and tried to explain that he only wanted to play. 'stay away.' i said again. he seemed about to cry but did not try to follow.

soon enough the truck was unloaded, the little ones fed, bathed and tucked in bed and my sister and i were cleaning the last of the dinner dishes while we talked about when our parents would arrive with the last truck. the windows did not yet have curtains and the darkness outside combined with the light from the overhead kitchen fixture turned them into inky mirrors. 'lennie' opened the door and stood before us. my sister and i froze. 'the door was locked' i said to my sister. 'oh,' answered 'lennie' happily, 'i can get in here any time i want with this!' and he held up a sightly warped bank card. this time the police escorted him out.

before turning in for the night, my sister and i checked all the locks on the windows and barricaded the doors as best we could. we felt certain we would at least be able to hear any attempts at entry. i soon fell into an exhausted sleep in my parents bed beside my sister. i was pulled awake by an unfamiliar voice saying over and over, i'm standing here, i'm standing here...'. i wrestled myself awake to see the giant figure of 'lennie' looming next to me. his smile was not harmless.

i was carole lombard

i was carole lombard, my husband was william powell and i was in a loveless marriage. it was 1939 and everything was beautiful except my married life. i was his second wife and william had two mid teen daughters and two adolescent sons by his deceased wife. his daughters saw my pain and were constantly fretting over me and encouraging me to leave their father. his sons were wholly attached to my husband and in every way were small, boring versions of him. their humor, mannerisms and endless, loud bantering was driving me insane in triplicate. they never spoke to me (only of me) and i didn't exist to them as mother figure at all. i in turn felt no real attachment to them and knew they would be fine without me. I had spoken to william countless times about my unhappiness, but he dismissed it all because he was happy and that was (he decided...) the truth of our marriage. eventually i lived my life as a mute prisoner (divorce was not common or easy at that time). we lived and traveled in highest fashion of the day as william was wealthy and i was dragged along by an invisible chain of obligation. in all the press photos we appeared to be a happy family but i never smiled.

we were on a train in a private rail car, i excused myself for air. i stood on the small vestibule at the end of the car and shut the door behind me. i pulled the cool night air deeply into my lungs and watched as the front of the train formed a wide arc in front of me. in the gathering dusk i could see we were passing over a long, low bridge above a still, inky river. impulsively i jumped over the railing and held on for just a moment before i let go. as i fell into the darkness i saw williams panicked face above me growing smaller and smaller and heard his cry, 'NOOOOOOO!'. i felt free and smiled for the first time in years.

i hit the water with a mighty whoosh and was soon clawing for air. my lungs were burning by the time i broke the surface but the smile on my face was so wide i felt like the corners of my mouth were touching my ears. i dragged myself to the shore and removed what clothing i could because it was so heavy. i stood there for a moment and watched the train recede into the darkness. i took off my soggy shoes and and carried them in my hands as i headed for the tiny twinkling lights of a town i saw in the distance. by the time i reached the first little shop, william had already sent word of my disappearance and men were being recruited to search for me or my remains. i took the shop lady into my confidence and she hid me behind some beautiful brocade screens just before her door burst open with the 'news'. 

i sat very still in my damp clothing and marveled at the simple beauty of the items near me. i remember thinking that the 1940's would be absolutely wonderful.