Blogger's Note: I think I may have suffered my first writing injury. Well, at least I hope that's what it is.
I've been writing a lot. I have written more in the last few days than I may have written in my entire life up to that point. I have the bug. And I can't shake it. And I love it. When I'm not writing, I'm walking around in a trance, dreaming up my next post, a future story, a way to connect plot points. I think I'm fairly worthless.
The past few days, the crooks of my elbows have been killing me. It feels like maybe a torn muscle, but it's in both of my arms. I thought at first that it was just another server injury. As a waiter, aches and pains aren't at all uncommon. Holding a tray in one hand and a pitcher in the other as I'm running around clearing off tables during high-volume days tends to spawn a plethora of aches and pains. Co-workers have experienced anything from back pain to carpal tunnel (or car pool tunnel as my mom calls it - you can use the express lane in Nashville if you go through car pool tunnel, I do believe).
I've anguished through many of these miserable afflictions over the years myself. So, I know what they feel like. And, what I have isn't that. Both arms were hurting in similar places, and I started to get concerned that maybe I was having circulation problems which might be a symptom of something serious.
I was getting so concerned, in fact, that I jumped over to the WebMD website and entered in my symptoms to see what kind of problem the experts say I have. Apparently, I've somehow contracted the Zimbabwe Heart Parasite which exasperated my preexisting yeast infection and escalated my acute case of the Black Plague. I'm going to need antibiotics, some weed, and a pap smear.
Then, I started to think that maybe the prognosis that I'd come up with might not be right. Maybe I didn't need a pap smear. I started to go through some more likely possibilities. I began considering what changes I had made in my normal routine lately that might have strained both arms.
And then I had it! It was so obvious! I had been writing a lot. As I'm writing right now, I realize that I've hit the nail on the proverbial head. The localized pain in my arms is clearly noticeable at the places that have been hurting. I have some form of carpal tunnel associated with typing a lot. And, I'm not sure how to treat that. Maybe I still need to see a doctor. Maybe (oh! Please God no!) I need to lay off writing for a little while. We'll see...
Anyway, on to today's post.
We've reached Phase 3 of our journey. If you hadn't already guessed it, this will be our "How We got Engaged" segment.
As I was plotting out this phase, I started wondering if this chapter was even necessary. I could have gone straight to the plot point without this little side step, but then I wouldn't have my nice, little OCD package of 4 phases of 4 chapters. And, besides, I'm in the mood to have a little fun. Don't writers sometimes stretch their stories to fill pages? I've read a few books that sure seemed that way.
Oh, quit your whining. This'll be fun! Grab a beer or a glass of wine and let loose for a bit! And, if you don't drink, then.. if you don't drink, um.. er.. How in the hell do you read this shit if you don't drink??
"Are you staying with me tonight?" Joanna asked.
Three weeks had passed since we had "defined our relationship." Most of those nights I had just stayed at the hotel with her. It was right next to the casino so was a lot closer than my brother's house. But location convenience wasn't the only reason that I preferred to stay with her.
"Sure. I picked up a couple of movies, and I thought we could order some pizza," I replied.
We were on our breaks and sitting across from each other in the Employee Dining Room. Much to the inconvenience of our co-workers, scheduling our lunches together was our daily objective.
"Do you mind if I take my lunch at 2 with Joanna today?" I had asked our supervisor Karen.
"Again?" she'd always respond. But she'd always make it happen. For thirty minutes of our work day, we could take a breath of each other.
We had spent nearly all of our free time together during those early days. We danced in that neutral field that exists between flirtation and love like two silly kids teasing the surf of a receding wave. I can only compare it to finding a song that you really like and playing it over and over and over.
Infatuation can be an electric and windy waltz. Some days the world is just frozen, and the object of your affection is carved free from everything else to dance to a ballad so loud and heart-felt that you can't help but wonder why no one else can hear the damn thing. And other days the world insists on being heard. Thunderous responsibility asserts itself into the crevices of your dream and creeps in like tendrils of ivy. You can wish it to Hell all you'd like, but wishing is all you'll be doing.
Joanna and I were fighting the fight. No one ever wins it, but everyone loves trying.
"I need to run home and grab some clothes in the morning," I told her. "Wanna come along?"
"Sure," my Polish girlfriend replied.
Our lunch break was coming to an end. We scooted our chairs back into place and made our way downstairs to the buffet.
Matt was talking to the new hostess Sheila when we arrived at the server station.
"I have a customer that wants to know what the Dessert of the Day is today?" Sheila was asking Matt.
"It's a Frickle Frackle Cheesecake with some Rambo Bright Sprinkles," Matt explained with a straight face.
We waited for Sheila to lament, "No, seriously..." But she never did. Instead, she turned around and confidently headed to the buffet where the inquiring customer was scooping a serving of mashed potatoes onto her plate.
"Ma'am." Sheila waited until she was certain that she had the customer's attention. Once she ascertained that she did, she loudly and proudly proclaimed, "It's a Frickle Frackle Cheesecake with some Rambo Bright Sprinkles."
Joanna, Matt, and I started snickering to ourselves.
"What. in. the. hell. is. that?" the customer asked, playfully horrified.
Sheila, suddenly aware that she'd been had, stormed back to where the three of us were huddled and laughing. "Not funny guys. Not funny," she spouted and marched back to the hostess station.
I couldn't quit laughing long enough to voice an apology. Karen happened to walk through our conference. "Ok, ok. Break it up, you guys. I don't know what you're up to, but I bet it's no good." Smiling, she shook her head and continued walking.
Joanna yielded and made her way to the hostess station. Matt idled to the buffet where he described a Tuxedo Brownie to the curious patron, and I went to work helping Calvin bus a table.
"Umm.. like I said.. I got the Dragons of Neverpyre which is the third book in the Lords of Thornberry series. And. um.. like I said.. the Thornberry Trolls are just about, er, excuse my language, the most bad ass Trolls in all of Lora'vale!" Calvin opened a channel of dialogue filled with his unusual passions. Some days, I'd entertain his strange ramblings and even reciprocate conversation; lately, however, I had been smitten by the singular ambition of devising plans for me and Joanna on our days off. Calvin didn't notice my disinterest.
"Umm, like I said.. do you know the Mantra of the Thornberry Trolls?" Calvin asked me.
I didn't hear the question. I was watching Joanna lead a pair of customers through the tables in the back to one of the booths. She placed their silverware and parted with, "thank you and enjoy your lunch." Instead of returning to the hostess station, however, she appeared to be heading my way.
"Like I said, the Mantra must be done open-palmed with your chin resting on your heart. I can't get my chin all the way to my heart, because I'm not.. umm.. err.. like I said.. a Thornberry Troll.. but, to demonstrate, I'll get as close as I can. It goes, 'Lora'vale hearts and Dragon spirits fly; pull out my tongue and poke out my eyes; Never rest until the Goblin hordes die; And free the bastard..."
"Is that the Thornberry Trolls, Calvin?" Joanna interrupted the chant before he could finish.
"Umm.. err. like I said.. that is the Mantra of.."
"The lady at the third booth overheard you. She wants you to tell her about the Trolls," Joanna dismissed him with a wave of her hand. Anxious to share his Troll knowledge, Calvin abruptly walked to what appeared to be a frail, elderly lady that was sitting by herself.
"How do you know about Thornberry Trolls?" I asked Joanna in a confiding whisper.
"I don't. He's been talking about that shit all day," she clarified. "Anyway, I want to see if you will go to Friday's after work. Crystal, Stacey, and Chris are going; I thought maybe we join them."
"Lora'vale hearts and Dragon spirits fly; pull out my tongue and poke out my eyes..." From over Joanna's shoulder, I could see Calvin with his head tilted down and his arms outstretched as he began reciting his bizarre chant. The poor lady in the booth had a spoonful of white beans paused just in front of her mouth; her expression tittered between fear and pity.
"Sure, we can hit Friday's after work," I responded to Joanna as our oblivious busser continued ranting about Thornberry Trolls and Lora'vale Dragons. Joanna shrugged an ok.
"Boy, I don't know what the hell you're talking about, but ain't you got some work to do?" the elderly lady asked Calvin enigmatically. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, cleared his throat, and, seemingly unscathed, turned around to wipe off the table behind him.
Joanna turned around to retrieve another guest when Karen intercepted her. "Joanna, you have a phone call in the office," she said. Joanna gave her a curious, well-that's-strange look before proceeding to the office.
I made my way to the server station to get some stocking done for the dinner rush. The steakhouse next to us was in a hustle, preparing to open in another hour. Tara was urgently pushing trays of silverware into the restaurant; Kristin followed her with a cart of clean glasses. Josh was performing a silly dance for someone obstructed from my vision by a divider wall that separated the bar from the entrance to the dining area; I recognized the laugh as belonging to Sheree.
Sheree always offered words of encouragement and a smile. I couldn't pass the bar without receiving a friendly greeting. She was older than most of us and harbored a level of wisdom that may have exceeded her years. When she spoke to me, it felt like the rest of the world fell away, and only the two of us existed. After Josh finished the afternoon's entertainment, I poked my head around the corner to say 'hi'.
"Why hello, Duane!! How are you doing? By the way you're glowing, I'd say ok." Sheree was wiping out some glasses with a towel.
When most people ask me how I'm doing, I usually give them the automated response, "great, thanks." But there was something about the way Sheree would say it that would make me actually answer the question. "I'm doing really well," I told her, but my conniving smirk and twinkling eyes probably told her more than my words did.
"I'm happy for you. You know, I have a good feeling about her," she paused from wiping out the glass she held and weighted me with a deep look that convinced me that she did indeed. I nervously lightened the rumination with a nervous chuckle, but the entrancing notion captivated me like a dancing sparkler.
"You know about me and Joanna?" I asked her.
"Duane, buddy, you may not realize it, but it's written all over your face." She went back to work on the glass she was holding like everything was just so simple.
"Hey." On cue, a familiar Polish accent jolted me from that place where Sheree and I had been talking; Joanna surprised me by unceremoniously announcing her presence. Something in her voice wasn't right. Troubled wrinkles and a somber demeanor cast a confusing shadow over the face I thought I knew.
"They're sending me to Vegas," she resolved.
A dramatic silence folded the air around me. Joanna and I locked gazes. I couldn't get the damn statement to sink in my brain enough to come up with a retort, and I knew that's what she was waiting for.
A tense moment lapsed while I struggled to process the information. Finally, she whittled some words from the stony air. "I'm going up to the room now. I have to get some paperwork done..."
I think she had more to say, but whatever it might have been was netted by her steel resolve. Stung and alone, she turned to walk away. She might have been crying. I needed to comfort and assure her. But wordless, hopeless anxiety ensnared me. I stood there like an idiot.
"Duane," Sheree softly negotiated me out of my trance. "I know it doesn't feel like it now; but, it'll work out. It will."
I looked at her politely before walking away. "I believe that. I really do," I heard her call after me. As much as I liked her, she was still just a bartender. What did she know?
(to be continued...)
Continue our "How We Got Engaged" story:
Chapter 10 - Meet the Family
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