Blogger's Note: "Duane, I like the Flashback episodes. Those are definitely the best!"
"The random ones are my favorite! That one about Amelia was great!"
"Oh my God, I can't wait for you to finish the 'How You Got Engaged' story! Hurry up already!"
I wish I could hear sentences like these every single day. When I do, I'm smiling from ear-to-ear for quite a spell. I'm always pining for a compliment.
Everyone has a different opinion on which type of episode I should focus on. I would write one of each everyday if I could. I'd absolutely love to. But, here's the thing. I can't.
After I finish a chapter in our "How We Got Engaged" story, my cup is empty. It takes me several days of daydreaming to fill it back up. As soon as I get done with a scene, I immediately rearrange the props to set up for the next installment. I have the plot outlined, but I don't have the details worked out yet. And the details are what turns "I drove to St Louis" into "a coffee-stained shirt, a scratched Fleetwood Mac CD, and a bitter memory tempered my first glimpse of the arch with an ache for conversation".
I couldn't write this story from start to finish without sacrificing quality.
Which brings me to my point. I've been writing a lot. I'm enjoying every second of it. But I don't want to substitute quality for quantity ever. That's my pledge to myself. If the quality ever diminishes, then I plan on chilling until the cup refills. I don't want to show up at a gun fight with only five bullets in my six-shooter. I want to walk up at sunset, eyes shaded by the brim of my hat, dust clouds caressing my footfalls, and a gun on each hip to fire away at my black-clad villain, Blandness.
Sometimes, however, I do show up with a bullet still missing from one gun. If it's a particularly, engaging day and I'm just itching to write, I'll gamble that I'll find that last bullet before I "draw". I did that during the last chapter.
As I was writing "Fun at Work", I was moving along rather nicely. The only plot point I needed to really communicate was that "Joanna was going to be relocated to Vegas". Everything else was really just spice.
So, Joanna got a call in the office. All I needed was to distract my character until she resurfaced with the bad news. I had 500 ideas. I was just going to have a silly conversation with Matt in the server's station or another funny encounter with Calvin or maybe I'd run into Amber and we'd engage in some level of mischief. I started typing and stopped. I'd erase what I just wrote. I started typing and stopped. I'd erase what I just wrote. And this went on until I decided that it was time to call it a day.
A couple of days later, I returned to the story. I've been in some plot pickles before; this wasn't one of those. I just couldn't seem to find something I was happy with. So, I thought of what I might have been doing back in those days. Who might I have seen?
And I thought of Sheree. (I found out I misspelled her name, but I've since corrected it) In case you didn't know Sheree, she was one of the sweetest, wisest people I have ever known. I wasn't as close to her as some of my co-workers, but I had enough conversations with her to realize that she was solid gold. I very sincerely mean that. She was one of a kind.
She passed away five years ago.
At first, when she crossed my mind, I thought, 'no, I can't do that.' I could never write anything that could do her beautiful soul justice. But, then, I just couldn't get her off my mind. I didn't have a choice in the matter. I had to talk to her. Again.
And that conversation was a very typical "Sheree" conversation. She didn't waste a single word on herself. She just never did.
Suddenly, that chapter finished itself.
I'm in a similar situation today. I know the plot points that I need to reach in today's installment. I even have some seasoning ready to sprinkle. I just don't think I have quite enough. Yet. So, I'm sitting at a window-side, coffee shop table. Outside, rain is drumming on a soulless sidewalk. The mood is set, and so am I. I'm going to pull the crank; I'm hoping this baby purrs.
"Hey, Dad." DJ climbed into the backseat with his usual vigor, but I could tell by his mannerisms that he was curious to know who the girl in the front seat was. I usually got him every other weekend, but I had made arrangements to get him early this week. Mother's Day was just four days away. I had to work on Sunday, so I had made plans to celebrate early. My brother Shawn had gone to pick up our mother, and we were going to meet at Chong's for a nice, family dinner. Also, I thought it would be a good opportunity to introduce Joanna to everyone.
"Joanna, this is my son DJ. DJ, this is my girlfriend Joanna," I introduced them.
"Hi," DJ said politely.
"Hi," Joanna responded warmly. Her phone rang before I could usher the dialogue into ice-breaker mode. She pulled it out of her purse and looked at the screen. "I'm sorry; I have to answer this," she apologized.
While Joanna navigated through what sounded like business conversation, I turned to my son and began our usual preliminaries in a hushed tone. "You been doin' all right, buddy?" I asked him.
"Yeah, Dad... where's she from? She sounds... different..."
I was about to answer when something Joanna said caught my attention. "At this point, I don't care, Thomas. If there's anything you can do, just do it. I don't care anymore. I hate that asshole." She laughed and then hit the button to end the call.
I looked at her hopefully. Three days had passed since she had received the bad news that she was being relocated to Vegas. We had spent that time together, but the mood was somber. We played with the yarn of possibility like kittens, swiping at a dangling idea without ever intending on snagging anything. She would be catching a plane in two more days. I couldn't leave my job or my son, and she was under contract. It was just that tragically simple. We had made plans to take my mother out for dinner before Joanna had received the bad news, and she was the kind of person to honor a contract.
"What was that about?" I asked her.
"Nothing," she responded as she stared out the window.
"What do you mean nothing? It sounded like you've got something in the works. I'd really like to know," I nagged.
For a moment, she didn't say anything. Finally, she spoke. "Would you just.. could you not..." she sighed; and, for a moment, I thought she was going to start crying. She took a deep breath and continued, "I don't want to get any hopes up..."
A nail in my heart drove in further with that hammering despair. I felt like a thoughtless idiot. I wanted to preserve the silence, but DJ was waiting on a response. "She's from Poland," I smiled into the rear-view mirror where I caught DJ squirming nervously. He had apparently noticed the tense mood, so I tried to lighten it.
"Have you heard about that new Pokemon, Pikanose? Pikanose! I choose you!" I said in my dramatic, narrative voice.
"Dad! I don't even care about Pokemon anymore! I'm too old for that!" he asserted.
"Oh. Oh. What was I thinking? Pikanose return! Pikanose don't do that! Get back in your pokeball, Pikanose! Oh, this ain't good!" I playfully animated the scenario by flailing an arm.
"Dad! Quit it!" DJ complained, but the ploy to curb his anxiety had worked.
When we arrived at the restaurant, I parked the car and turned to Joanna. "Listen, I need to warn you about something," I started. After she met my gaze with a concerned expression, I continued, "my mother is, well, different..."
"Oh, quit it!" She waved me away and climbed out of the car.
"You should listen to Dad." DJ's encouragement seemed to catch Joanna's interest. Fearing that she might be the butt of one of my jokes, she cautiously transferred her focus from me to DJ and back.
"She's difficult to explain," I said as the three of us strolled across the parking lot. "She's a nice person, and I wouldn't exactly call her crazy..." I paused to assess Joanna. She teetered between suspicion and angst.
"She talks a lot!" DJ interjected.
"Listen, everything will be fine. It's not like that. But, if you're ever confused as to what's going on, then just know that's it's not you, it's her. I still don't know what she's talking about half the time!" I punctuated as we filed inside.
I spotted Shawn on the other side of the room. He stood when he saw us, and DJ ran to him. "Uncle Shawn!" he shouted as he playfully tackled him. My brother laughed and caught my son in a headlock. "What have you been up to, stinker?" he said.
"Mom, this is Joanna, my girlfriend." I didn't waste any time and introduced the two.
"Oh, hi. I'm Edna," Mom fidgeted with her hair as if she needed to look nicer since a girl was now there.
"Hi, it's nice to meet you," Joanna responded.
"She's from Poland!" DJ announced.
"Poland, huh?" Shawn integrated into the conversation. He extended his hand to shake Joanna's. "Hi, I'm Shawn."
"I can tell. You two look just alike," Joanna shook his hand politely.
"She's pretty," Mom told me. "YOU'RE PRETTY!" she yelled at Joanna in case Polish people couldn't hear very well.
"Thank you," Joanna, maintaining an admirable level of composure, responded with a smile.
A fast-talking, Asian girl walked up with a pad of paper. "Everyone having buffet?" she didn't waste any time with formalities.
"Yes," Shawn answered for us.
"You want won ton soup?" the expeditious girl continued.
"No, I want wong tong soup," Mom replied. She turned to Joanna, "THEY HAVE GOOD WONG TONG SOUP HERE! Duane, tell her to try it."
"Mom, we'll take care of the ordering. Tell us what you want to drink, so you can head on up to the buffet," Shawn was attempting to gain some control over the situation. I shot him a look of gratitude.
"Ok, well, get me a.. do they have Dr. Pepper? No, wait. I've been drinking a lot of soft drinks lately. Just get me a water. Is the water good here? Oh, nevermind, just get me a Dr. Pepper."
"We'll take care of it, Mom. The plates are right over there." Shawn pointed to the stack of plates and breathed a sigh of relief when she headed in that direction.
After everyone placed their drink orders and got their plates filled, we reassembled at the table. Not surprisingly, Mom was the first to start conversation. "Do they have cars in Poland?" Mom liked to ask the important questions first.
"Mom, she rides a donkey to school," I toyed with her.
"Are you serious??" She looked from me to Joanna. Joanna just maintained a blank expression. "HOW DO YOU STAY ON IT?? I BET THAT'S COLD IN THE WINTER! DOES IT HAVE A SADDLE?"
"Do you really ride a donkey to school?" DJ asked Joanna. She finally shook her head and spared me an impish grin.
"Duane!" Mom caught the exchange and admonished me. The two seconds of silence that followed seemed to bother her. "I saw something about Korea on the news this morning!" she resolved.
"Korea, huh?" Shawn joined in.
"Yeah, that's over there by Poland I think. They've got something going on over there that's really bad. I don't remember what it was, but I remember that it was bad. You should try this stuff; it's really good!" she pointed her fork at the green pepper steak.
"Yeah, Mom, Joanna has to sleep on hay. They don't have beds at her house," I decided to have fun with the situation. DJ looked from me to Joanna. This time she nodded, playing along.
"Oh, that's too bad. I bet you're glad to be over here, then! Did you try the wong tong soup? It's good, isn't it? Duane, you're not going to believe this. The neighbors broke my oven again!"
Our mother's poor neighbors were responsible for all sorts of mischief at her house. They would break in while she was gone and break the light in the refrigerator, hide her car keys, and take some money out of her purse. They'd never take all the money, just some of it.
"Really, Grandma?" DJ voiced his concern.
"Yeah! Last week, they got my chicken and Sprite, too," she continued.
"DJ, just finish your food," I encouraged him, but he was too interested to comply.
"They broke in your house and took chicken and Sprite out of your refrigerator!?! Why didn't they take more stuff while they were in there?" DJ asked the question that I had asked her a thousand times, but she always had an answer that she felt was perfectly reasonable.
"Because they just like to mess with me," she deduced.
Shawn and I sighed; I felt Joanna gently pat my knee.
"Mom, can we change the subject?" I politely requested.
Shawn herded the conversation by addressing Joanna. "So, how's my brother treating you?"
"Oh, he an idiot," she smiled and squeezed my hand under the table.
"If you two got married, would you live here or in Poland?" Mom broached. The question caught DJ's attention, and he looked up from his plate to inspect the response.
"Oh, Mom, it's a little early for talk like that," I laughed.
"Well, what if your children didn't speak English?" she pondered aloud. The rest of us couldn't muzzle our amusement, so we all just shared a laugh. Mom seemed unaffected.
"Grandma, babies learn whatever language they're taught!" DJ explained.
I mentally stepped away from the table for a moment. I wondered what Joanna thought of my family, so I studied her from the corner of my eye. She appeared entertained; she seemed relieved. Sometimes, introducing dates to my family was rather stressful for me; but, Joanna had the look of someone that just had a weight lifted from her chest. I watched my family from her eyes.
Mom was talking about how Mountain Dew can cause cancer; Shawn would switch the tracks of dialogue if she started to get too out there; and, DJ would listen to the banter with childlike interest. Sometimes he would emphasize someone's point by quoting something he'd just learned at school. I saw everyone in a new light.
Everyone was in my corner. In her own way, Mom was trying to make my girlfriend feel welcome. DJ wanted to showcase his manners and intelligence by carefully choosing his participation; and, Shawn was corralling the momentum of our family's ardor as an attempt to cushion my girlfriend from our family's "enthusiasm".
I could see in her expression that Joanna wasn't daunted by all the turmoil. If anything, she seemed to enjoy the refreshingly unusual display of love that was staggering through our idiosyncratic interactions. She could sharpen her wit against the tracks of our discussions with their deftly sudden turns and crazy, unexpected twists. And yet, I had come to know her well enough to recognize a taxing burden she was harboring as well.
Real love, I believe, has dimensions. I saw in her at that peculiar moment a dimension I hadn't seen before. Under the table, I laced my hand into hers and squeezed it gently.
"I'll get the tip," Mom announced.
Shawn waved her away. "Mom, we've got it."
"No, I'm going to..." she paused her insistence as she began rummaging through her purse. "You're not going to believe this! I had four dollars right here..." she indicated a pocket inside her purse, "...I know you don't believe me, but those sons of bitches.. oh, here it is." She pulled some money out of the bottom of her purse. Her neighbors were off the hook... this time.
"Mom, put your money up," I said as I exchanged a smile with Joanna. I pulled some money out of my billfold for a tip and threw it on the table.
"Duane, if you want I can take DJ home; I'm headed that direction anyway," Shawn offered.
"If you're sure you don't mind, I appreciate it, man," I said graciously.
Shawn and I split the bill at the register. Outside, Mom was telling Joanna that it was nice to meet her as we walked up.
"Well, I hope we didn't scare you too badly," Shawn said to Joanna.
She shook her head, smiled, and replied, "not at all... I am glad to meet you."
Everyone exchanged their goodbye's; I hugged DJ and told him I'd see him soon; and, at last, Joanna and I climbed into my Oldsmobile.
We both exhaled and, before I turned the key to start the car, we looked at each other and laughed. Just as I was about to put the car in reverse, Joanna's phone rang.
"Hello?" she answered. I watched and listened intently. "Yes, of course..."
Silence followed as she listened to whomever was on the other end of the line. I could feel my heart rate increasing as anxiety began tensing my grip on the steering wheel. I forced myself to let it go and rested my hands in my lap.
"Yes, I understand. I don't care. I'll do it anyway. Yes, I understand.. thank you, Thomas. Ok, goodbye. Yes, of course. Thank you again." Joanna ended the call and looked at me.
If she didn't say something soon, I decided that I would strangle her. "Well?" I asked.
She took a deep breath and explained. "I've been working on a way to stay here. I talk to Raul and to Thomas, the Director at the casino. At first, they say there is no way. But, Thomas come up with an idea, and he ask Raul to do it..."
"Well, what is it?" I encouraged her to continue.
"Raul say if I voluntarily step down from my supervisor position, I can continue working in the buffet. The students will all be leaving, but I will stay. I will be paid like the students, but I can keep hotel room."
"Are you sure about this? I mean, I really hope you'll stay; but, I want you to be sure about this," I told her.
"Well, my contract ends in three months. I already decide that I will not renew it. I will be going back to Poland either way. I will lose three months of better pay; I'm not too worried about that. I am sick of this company anyway," she clarified.
I reached my arms around her and brought her in for a hug. I could feel a release of emotion in her embrace, and I reciprocated. "This fucked up," she said. "I beg not to leave Destin and come here. And now, I beg to stay here. There is one thing, though." Her words fell softly into my ear as her chin rested on my shoulder. I pulled her away from me to look into her eyes.
"They cannot promise me how long this will last. There is another contract between the company and the casino. If that falls apart, then nothing can be done. I could be sent to Vegas tomorrow regardless if that happens," she relayed.
I didn't say anything. I didn't want to taint the good news with worry. I kissed her cheek and, at last, put the car in reverse.
An hourglass had been turned on our relationship, and who knew when it would run out?
(to be continued...)
Continue our "How We Got Engaged" story:
Chapter 11 - Perceptions
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