marriage – three good words

October 30, 2014

a simple life

The cabin was in the middle of nowhere out in the plains. It took twenty minutes to get to the main street with the grocers and the bar. The cabin had everything though, water and electricity, and enough firewood if it got cold at night. Bobby made sure there was enough.

Bobby Sachs was the mechanic in Twain. You needed your car fixed you got it to Sachs. He knew everything about cars, old, new, sold twice, three times, he knew exactly what you needed. How, nobody knew, he just did. He was a good man, tall, very broad, always tanned. He was rarely in anything else than jeans and a soiled shirt, work gloves hanging out of his back pocket, his workboats sprinkled with motor oil. He was the quiet type, didn’t talk much, but was a good for a drink and a game of pool in the bar. Bobby Sachs was liked by everyone in Twain, he was a good man, solid. And he took care of Christiana, everyone called her Christy though.

Christy was… she was a sweet girl, but not very bright. When she went shopping at the grocers, she had a list of things they needed, written out by Bobby, coz Christy couldn’t remember much. Pretty face, but brain like a sieve, everyone said. And it was good Bobby Sachs did the decent thing and married her. She’d been going out with Bobby Sachs’ cousin, Hank Royce, but Hank was no good. Beat her up bad sometimes, especially when he was drunk, but there was no getting Christy away from Hank, he was all she had save her Gran, and her Gran was ancient. Nobody really knew about Christy’s dad, and her Moma one day up and left without so much as a word or goodbye. Christy was ten then, and everybody in Twain agreed that’s when she got a bit strange. She’d loved her Moma like only a kid could, but Christy’s Moma was a bitch, everyone was happy to see her go. Nobody said that to Christy’s face though, coz Christy was an angel. Not very bright, but so sweet you didn’t want no harm to come her way. You just couldn’t get her away from that good-for-nothin’ drunk she was with.

Then Hank Royce got himself killed in a car crash down at the Old River, and it was Bobby Sachs who dragged the wreck to the yard. As the story went, he came by Christy’s to give her the money for the scraps, saw how bad she was and just took her home to get her cleaned up and fed. She never left after, and at one point they went to the preacher and Bobby put his Moma’s ring on Christy’s finger. Now Christy was taken care of and the whole of Twain was relieved. Christy wasn’t an angel for nothin’, she had a good man for a husband, a man she obviously adored, she wouldn’t let anyone talk bad about Bobby. grasses Everyone was happy for her, she was a good girl with a good man, and Bobby Sachs was the kind of man you wanted to see with a good wife. Everyone was happy to see them walking into the bar for the dance on Saturday nights, or down to the fair when it came to Crosby further down the highway, coz Bobby Sachs took care of his wife. He even took her out when she wanted to have a good time.

October 24, 2014October 24, 2014

for once

Natural.

More of an
afterthought
than an
endeavour

more of a
f
l
o
w
than a
pu – shing – through

more of a
silent
surprise
than a planned-out event.

More of an
‘Oh… did we just…?’
rather than an
‘Ok, let’s do it.’

September 12, 2014May 16, 2020

hugh’s corner

It was a warm Saturday morning when Carol Jones knocked on the door of Hugh’s Corner 75. She just flew in from Hawaii and took a cab. Now she was standing in a narrow street, trying to follow the directions her sister Liz had given her over the phone. ‘It’s between Ocean Park and Sea Drive. Just take a cab, the driver should know,’ but the driver did not know.

Liz had never been on the accurate side of things. When she broke off college in her junior year to marry Seth Hayne, all she told Carol and their parents was that Seth came from Chicago and was the sweetest man on earth. She never mentioned he was already an attorney in one of the leading law-firms, and came from what was called old money. Now, ten years later, Liz was Miss Jones again, and all Liz had told Carol so far was that their lifestyles had diverged. Liz liked to use words like that when she didn’t want to tell you anything.

Carol finally found the 75, walked up the stairs and knocked on the door. No answer. She looked at her watch, it said nine thirty five. She tried again.

‘That’s not Red’s boy.’

Saturday afternoon, late, the sky was overcast. There was a haze on the sand in front of Hugh’s Corner 75. Liz Jones was standing with her back against the balcony, smoking, a cup of coffee on the railing next to her.

In the morning, she had opened her front door groggily to incessant knocking. Carol, her sister, stood before her with an overnight bag and a sleeping baby in her arms. She looked exhausted. There had been a brief exchange, nothing important. Liz had pulled out the couch in the spare bedroom and watched her sister and the baby sleep for a while before going back to bed. Now, she was wide awake, wearing her usual frayed shorts and white shirt, waiting for her painted toe nails to dry. Carol was in the kitchen, mashing some bananas for the baby. The baby was only in diapers, sitting on a blanket a step away from Liz’ feet, playing with a toy. Liz had never been the motherly type. She liked watching mothers, and sometimes envied the satisfied laughter of their children, but the moment one started screaming she knew why she’d been careful all these years.

‘What?’ Carol asked, still stirring the mashed bananas in the bowl. She looked haunted in a way, as if she’d seen several ghosts at once. Her dark hair hung in loose curls all the way to her shoulders, making her face look thinner than it actually was. Her eyes were wide, a lighter blue than Liz’, and a little too bright. Liz remembered how readily Carol used to smile, how her face had beamed when she got accepted, and so could head to Berkeley. And how dreamy her voice became when she talked about Red, the often-proclaimed Love Of Her Life. Red, that was Stuart Montgomery, nicknamed Red due to his flaming red hair. He was a History professor who decide midway through his tenure-track that life was too short to waste in between books and classrooms, quit his job and moved to Hawaii. Carol, not exactly his best student, but his most enthusiastic, followed him in a moment of rashness, found him in a cottage on Maui and decided she’d found Heaven.

Liz had smiled when Carol sent her a picture of Red and herself a few weeks later. They were on the beach near their little house, sitting on the sand, Red holding a bottle of beer and smiling at Carol who was adjusting the spangle in his hair. They looked happy, and Liz had felt envious. She never regretted leaving college, but marrying Seth Hayne had proven to be less of the Heaven she had thought it would be. The first two years had been wonderful, but then they bought the House near the Lake, and Seth lost all interest. He held her hand, and kissed her good-morning and good-night, but that was all she ever got. He worked all day and half the night, and was always busy on weekends – if not with work, then with making the House a perfect Nest, as he always called it. And so she didn’t complain. How could she, if he was working his hind legs off to make her life comfortable. He felt guilty enough for having plucked her out of her college life and fairly plunged her into the real world of marriage and responsibilities.

In any case, by the time Carol’s photograph of bliss fluttered into her mailbox, Liz and Seth had already been married seven years. Five of which were long and lonely, though she had a nice life, a perfect life, full of dinners, parties, friends and holiday trips to Europe and Maine. That was her life two years ago. Now she was divorced, living in a small apartment between Ocean Park and Sea Drive, trying to come to terms with the fact that all the while, Seth had not been straight. He had never been, he simply saw her as a fantastic alibi, one his whole family would accept without question. She was ‘steady’ he said, and ‘sensible.’ After the shock and the tears, after the humiliation, Liz had hated him most for that.

‘K.J. no, don’t do that,’ Liz heard Carol say.
‘Why K. J. actually?’ she asked, watching Carol sit down cross-legged on the blanket before lifting the baby onto her lap.
‘Kahoku Jones,’ Carol replied, feeding the baby.
‘Kahoku? You’re kidding.’
‘No. It’s actually Kahoku Manaki Jones, but that’s too long. K.J. suits just fine, don’t you think?’

It was how she said it, defeated. Liz just looked at her sister and wondered what had happened. Carol looked crushed, as if a part of her, a large part, had broken to pieces. And yet, she was very gentle with the baby, absolutely loving, cooing and cajoling, praising the little thing’s success in eating well. Kahoku Manaki Jones. Liz exhaled. She was right. K.J. suited just fine.

‘Is there a meaning to those names?’ Liz asked.
‘Would you mind not smoking while he’s here?’ Carol asked instead.

Liz just shrugged, pinched out the cigarette and flicked it off onto the pavement below. The small street circled Hugh’s Corner, separating the wood from the sand without blocking the ocean view. There was a tall palm tree to the right of the house, but next to a few haphazard azaleas that was the only greenery in sight. Liz didn’t have any patience for plants.

‘So, is there a meaning?’
‘Kahoku means star. Manaki means wind.’
‘Star Wind Jones,’ Liz said laughed. Carol said nothing.
‘Ok. Sorry.’
‘Don’t worry, we won’t be staying long,’ Carol said, speaking to the baby.

Liz felt a sudden pang of guilt. It was probably why she said, ‘We should go to Disneyland then.’‘He’s too young for that,’ Carol said, finally looking up at Liz. She looked close to tears. The guilt grew thicker, stronger. She’d known something wasn’t right for a while now, but she could never put a finger on it, Carol was always so vague. Then again, she didn’t like phones. She preferred letters, but Liz was a bad letter-writer, she always forgot to answer.

‘We can just walk around and enjoy the view,’ Liz said, picked up her cold coffee and walked back in. She had to get away from that cloud of guilt that was growing thicker, darker, on the balcony. Carol looked like she genuinely needed help, only Liz didn’t know what kind. What was she to give a mother and a child? The baby was a sweet thing with black curls and large dark eyes, but that wasn’t what made Liz watch the little thing for so long. It was his face. It had Maui stamped all over it. He definitely wasn’t Red’s child.

* * *

Someone once asked me where I come from and at first I wanted to say L.A. but then I thought that wasn’t enough. Venice Beach was the next option, but that really wasn’t all that right either. I grew up between Ocean Park and Sea Drive, in a small stretch of apartment buildings that’s Hugh’s Corner. Don’t ask me why it’s Hugh’s Corner, and not Paul’s or Andy’s. It’s Hugh’s Corner, a world of its own.

Ok. So, there’s Ma and Q, Ben, of course, Master An, the wise man, Ray the Monk, the Bernardis, Jamie, Little Miss Tinkerbell, Nova, Mac, Molly and Skip, Cappy, oh my Cappy, Tins in No Ming and Miss Liz. That should be it.

Now, if you knew about me, you’d ask: What about K.J.? And a couple of weeks ago, I’d have said: He left some time back. He’s history. But now with Miss Liz in a coma, I can’t say that anymore.

K.J. and Miss Liz are our neighbors. We, that’s Ma, Q and I, live in Hugh’s Corner 73 and 74. We used to live in the Palisades with my Dad, but after the second time Ma found him in bed with another woman, she filed a divorce and started a new life. No Prince of Bel Air for us. Ma gets alimony, but it’s all put into a trust-fund for Q and myself what with college and all.

There was a time when I believed God existed and miracles could happen. I used to sing in our church just a block away from Marina del Ray. I was a ‘mezzosoprano’ and could hold a note long enough to get a satisfied smile from Pastor Williams. Then Patricia, his wonderful daughter, found me kissing Louis DeJean (tenor) in the backroom, and through her lies and Louis and my own shame, Pat convinced Pastor Williams that we were fornicating under the eyes of God. May I add that Pat had been doing exactly that since Louis moved with his Pa from Dallas. All through our trial in Pastor Williams’ office, I prayed to God that He may exercise his omnipotence and make Pastor Williams understand that Louis and I had only succumbed to the heat of the moment, and only kissed, really, truly, honest to God kissed. He did not. I was expelled from the Choir and Louis cancelled from the next Thanksgiving concert. He stayed on though, as Pat somehow managed to weave the Adam and Eve story into her whole web of lies, which made me the sinner and Louis the victim. What hurt most was that Louis never said anything, he just stopped talking to me as if I had a huge A on my chest.

In any case, by my sixteenth birthday, I’d stopped going to church all together and Ma never said a thing. But this is really about K.J., not me, K.J. who’s got the summer triangle inked under his right ear, what’re they called – oh yeah, Vega, Deneb and Altair. He told me that night, Skip’s birthday barbeque, Miss Liz didn’t mind that he got them. Apparently she said his body was his body, as long as he could deal with the consequences. I wish Ma would say stuff like that.

Anyway, K.J.’s on Maui now. People think he’s surfing, I know he’s looking for his Dad. I don’t know if he’s found him yet, nobody here’s seen or talked to him a really long time, but I have to talk to him now. I just can’t find him. I’ve tried everything save flying over, and I can’t fly over, I don’t have the cash ready and Ma won’t budge. Apparently, I’ve gotta finish school first. Ma always calls college school. I still need to do something though. Miss Liz is in a coma and K.J.’s basically fallen off the face of the earth.

Which is why I’m talking to You, yes, You, up there. Bring him back. Whatever it is, do it. If you’re there, this is your chance. Do something. Now. I’m not gonna pray about it, I’m just sayin’ what needs to be done, so do it. Please. K.J. really needs to come back home now. Like, right now. Not in seven days or forty days or forty years or some weird stuff like that. I mean now, ok? Have him come back home now, really, now, coz Asha Carol’s not about to fly out of India soon and do something about it.

August 30, 2014May 18, 2020

table talk

They took the cars to the reception, the place looked like a photograph from one of those design magazines. Not that he was surprised, Steff had been setting it up for six months now, no mistake was allowed. Richter said she was afraid one wrong move would jinx it. Except that the jinx was already on it, but Caden wouldn’t start that now. Sunny was flirting heavily with some cousin of Richter’s which Richter was trying to ignore. As he would, Steff was right next to him, looking like she just planted a flag on some new soil.

Parking was at the gates, so they walked down the wide tree-lined drive to the open doors, children running, people laughing, Steff and Richter at the front looking like a movie-still. Caden kept well away from Joan and Penelope, and with Liz around Angus couldn’t turn up either. He did notice how silent Marla was after one of the Mastersons left her alone again. She hadn’t really said much since they sat down for the ceremony. He regretted turning on her like that, but better that than having to clean up the mess after Angus had enough, as he would after week three, latest. Not to mention the war that would flare up once Liza found out, and Liza always found out. He didn’t need that in his life right now.

For three seconds Caden wanted to be back in O’Connor’s. He liked the mornings best when the bands came in to try out their sets, and he got to hear some genuinely good songs. The lyrics were rarely less than perfunctory, they were just starting after all, but some got it just right. They were everything from eager kids to serious musicians, Caden didn’t care which as long as they knew how to play. He always checked out one of their jam sessions first, or just a low-key gig somewhere, before he had them over. His rep was built on that. Band Night in O’Connor’s was a sure way to start up a solid fanbase, he had regulars who came every week just to see what was new. Lately scouts had started turning up as well, small labels, yes, but it was starting.

He enjoyed it. He liked standing behind the counter, keeping his hands busy, while the air was filled with real music and not just noise, everybody listening, maybe joining in if the band was good with the crowd, all of them having a genuinely good time. It made having the bands thank him seriously afterwards something really good. The younger ones especially were always pretty floored if the gig went well, getting chatty afterwards, drunk on the night and all the drinks they downed to stay steady. Closing up the place afterwards was something Caden wouldn’t miss. It was a way to wrap up the night and bring the place back to normal. And he always felt he’d really accomplished something, made something happen. It wasn’t anything grand, but it was something real, and with the way people kept on coming back, he wasn’t just seeing things.

It was at least an hour in, probably more, and Marla was still fairly silent next to him. That is, she kept on talking to Sunny and tried to be polite to Matt, but really didn’t say much to him, Caden. He didn’t like it much, it was the wrong kind of silence, but Jessie St John Lewis was right in his line of sight, watching his every move. Caden didn’t look, but he knew she was doing it, she always did once they were in the same room. He’d made the mistake of ignoring her before, and that always ended in tears and some kind of argument, if not a full blown fight. At one point Ella just refused to join anything that had to do with ‘those people’ as she called anyone who belonged to the Corrigans. flowers 4

It had taken a while until he understood that the moment Penelope and Jessie saw him, their goal was to make his life as miserable as possible. If Matt could already make Marla fidget like that… He didn’t need a meltdown here. Definitely not here. So Caden said little and only spoke when someone insisted they needed an answer. Usually it was Joan, Matt or Sunny, Marla keeping to herself if no one was actively trying to get her to talk again. Finally, Angus got up, tapped his glass, got some silence and started talking about how honoured he was to be best man. Steff kept on smiling her manicured smile, and Richter tried not to look as if he was about to be hanged and quartered by sundown. With everyone busy listening, Caden finally leaned over and said, ‘How’s the wine?’ Marla turned, startled, and said,

‘Good. Very good. Where’s it from?’
‘Spain.’
‘Where exactly?’
‘You know your way round Spain?’
‘A little.
‘Penedès?’
‘Oh. Yes. Nice. I heard they had good wines there.’

She tried to smile. Angus was still talking, trying to make it funny. People were polite and laughed where they should.

‘Sorry about just now. You caught me in an off moment.’
‘It’s ok.’
‘No, it’s not. It’s just – I don’t want you to get caught up with them.’
‘Caught up with whom?’

He couldn’t answer, Angus just raised his glass for the toast. Everybody got to their feet, raised their glasses, said, ‘To the happy couple,’ and cheered Steff and Richter as if they meant it. Everybody sat back down again, and Steff gave a nod down to the door which meant it was desserts now. At least the food was great so far. It would be all day, till the morning breakfast tomorrow.

‘So, Ms. Brandon, Caden tells me that you work on the hill?’

That was Joan. The whole table turned to Marla, who said a very composed,

‘I do.’
‘And do you like the work?’
‘It’s interesting, yes.’
‘It must be difficult for you. As a woman in such a male domain. How do you manage?’

Again, Marla’s whole face said, ‘What?’

‘I – we’re a good team,’ was what she said out loud.
‘Are you the only woman?’
‘Ah – well, yes, but Anna –’
‘Of course you would be,’ Joan nodded. ‘I guess they don’t let you girls in that easily, do they?’

Marla actually looked to him for help.

‘Their team tends to fluctuate,’ Caden said, he could see Marla’s relief.
‘Why?’ Joan asked. ‘Don’t you get along?’
‘That’s not how it works, Joan,’ Fred finally said. ‘As far as I understand, it’s all contractual. Once the contract runs out you move to the next project, am I right, Miss?’
Marla smiled gratefully, ‘Yes, quite like that.’
‘But that must be such a strain,’ Joan frowned. ‘When do you get to settle?’
‘I’m quite settled now,’ Marla tried.
‘Don’t you want to get married? With all that travelling – Sunny tells me you were in India and New York?’
‘I was, yes, but –’
‘Well, you see. With all that travelling, how are you ever supposed to start a family? Or are you one of those career women who abhor children?’

It was in moments like these where Caden knew exactly where Matt got that smirk from.

‘I – well – that subject hasn’t really – come up yet –’
‘But you must be what, twenty-seven? Twenty-eight? It’s about time, isn’t it?’

Marla just stared.

‘Really, these young women today,’ Joan shook her head at Fred who was getting a bit pink at the ears. ‘All business and no time for family. I sometimes wonder if letting them all study was all that clever. How are people supposed to have children?’
‘Oh, that’s quite easy, Mrs. Corrigan,’ Marla said calmly. ‘You just have to have a bit of sex in between.’

Sunny snorted into her cup, and even Matt couldn’t help a chuckle. Caden drank his coffee to hide the smile. Joan gave Marla a long look and was about to say something, but Richter’s dad was already tapping his glass, and the room fell silent again.

August 28, 2014May 18, 2020

down the aisle, 2

‘Caden? Is that you? I didn’t know you’d be here!’

Caden almost said ‘Fuck’ out loud. Penelope. A mistake. A big mistake. But he didn’t know then, young and stupid as he was. He didn’t know he needed something called space until he didn’t have it anymore. Or air. He needed to breathe. Penelope didn’t understand that concept. Ever since he escaped, she kept on trying to clap him in chains again.

He managed to keep it down to a few kisses, several hugs and no mention of Marla, who’d have no peace once Penelope found out she was there with him. Penelope had her troops ready, half the Talbot-Halls, a couple Bernards, three Mastersons and Marjorie ‘Jessie’ St John Lewis, who was Penelope’s NSA, she was everywhere and reported back to HQ in seconds. There was no need to put Marla through that, so he stood and waited until he could finally disentangle himself and run.

Once outside, Caden made sure none of Penelope’s foot soldiers could find him, fully aware of just how ridiculous this was, but he really wanted some peace today, he didn’t need the shouting. Or the tears. So he smoked one behind the church, and promptly got found out by the pastor – who asked if he had another, he’d been dying for a fag since breakfast. They shared a smoke, talked about nothing in particular, the good weather, the number of guests, how old the church was – ancient by the sound of it – the padre talking away, almost as if he was nervous. Turns out he was.

‘You never know with this crowd. They’re very… particular about how it’s supposed to go. Friend of mine had a bit of a sore throat once, family was up in arms he spoiled the whole ceremony, and all he did was clear his throat a couple of times. And that was before the vows. They were ready to sue him, I’m positive.’

The padre shook his head, thanked Caden for the cigarette and went back in with a, ‘Wish me luck.’ Caden finally went out to the car, past more guests coming in, suits and hats, and another Masterson, as it looked like Richter’s whole family was going to show up. He was just at the door when he heard it, high and sharp, like someone was about to sneeze. Caden opened the car, took out his camera and slammed the door shut, extra loud. That didn’t sound out the last, near-strangled sound behind the bushes. Caden leaned against the car, unscrewed the lense’s lid and checked if there were any smudges – none. There was rustling and giggling, and more rustling. Then, much to the lack of his surprise, Sunny and Richter tumbled out from behind a Mercedes SLK, brushing themselves of leaves and greenery.

Sunny didn’t see him, but Richter did, Sunny half running, half walking back to the church, pulling her dress in place, while Richter strolled over looking much less anxious and far more relaxed.

‘Don’t look at me like that, you knew about it anyway,’ was the first thing he said.

Caden scaled the trees to check the light.

‘Come on man, you know what she’s like. And I can’t stay with a kid like her, I’d be dead by day four.’

Caden took a shot and looked at the still. Good.

‘Come on, Tellis, you know what it’s like,’ which was where Caden said, ‘Actually, I don’t,’ straightening.
‘What?’ Richter laughed, as if it was all a joke. He never really got rid of that.
‘Just leave her alone from now on.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Yes, Steve, I’m serious. And you’re right, she’s a kid. So, drop it. I can’t have last year happen again, especially with Steff watching. And neither can you.’

That seemed to hit home.

‘Come on, Caden, it was just –’ but Caden didn’t wait to listen and walked back to the church.

Angus was telling her something about how Richter fell into a ditch in the Hebrides when Marla saw Caden walk down the church aisle. Something was wrong. She excused herself from Angus as best as she could, and walked over to Caden who was taking pictures, possibly to figure out the light first before the ceremony started. She stopped next to him and said, ‘Those windows are beautiful.’ He lowered the camera and adjusted the lense, wordlessly.

‘You all right?’ Marla asked.
‘Yeah, why?’
‘You looked a bit upset just there.’
‘Where?’
‘Just now. You sure you’re all right.’

He gave her a quick look, piercing.

‘Word of advice?’
‘Advice?’
‘Yeah. Stay away from Angus. He’s got a girl, Liza. Steff’s best friend. You don’t want to get mixed up with that.’

The blush flooded Marla’s face. It was the way he said it, as if she was doing something deliberately stupid, insulting her own intelligence.

‘I – we were just talking.’
‘Yeah, right.’

He lifted his camera, scaled and took another shot. The blush increased.

‘We were. It was just small talk – ’
‘Did he tell you about Liza?’ he said, taking another shot.
‘Well. No, but –’

He stopped then, turned to her, and said seriously, too seriously,

‘These people aren’t like yours, Marla. Or mine. They don’t mean half of what they say, so don’t start believing whatever it is they’ve been telling you.’
‘I –’
‘Use your head –’
‘Caden –’
‘Or just bloody stay away from him. Or whoever. It’ll save you a lot of trouble.’

And with that he walked down the aisle towards the altar, stopping once to take another shot, looking very professional. It took a moment until Marla realised she was just standing there, staring. He didn’t say anything rude, but his tone… The irritation she felt was real. There was no need to talk to her like that. All they did was small talk. Honestly, that was not on.

The bride looked like she just conquered a piece of valuable real estate, the groom looked resigned to his fate. The ceremony was beautiful though, the hymns tasteful, the sermon brief, the vows clear and unimpeded, the rings flashing brightly even from where Marla was sitting. She and Caden hadn’t spoken a word to each other since he snapped at her for no reason whatsoever. She didn’t understand why he was suddenly so angry with her, she just talked to his friend, who was cheeky and flirtatious and not the kind of man Marla would have ever taken seriously. And then he snapped at her like that. She knew it wasn’t jealousy. It was the way he said it. Like he had this genuinely high opinion of her and she disappointed him. As if she really was being stupid and stopped using her head. She’d never seen him like that before, and through the whole ceremony Marla was aware that she was mildly shocked. She had looked forward to this wedding, but now… she really hoped the reception would be better.