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littlewing
Member Rara Avis
since 2003-03-02
Posts 9655
New York

0 posted 2005-03-07 12:26 PM



     Later that morning, I showered in Bobby's flat.  She never lived above her diner.  She felt that business was business.  She didn't want to bring that filth into her home.  Yet, here I was.

     Her apartment was fantastic.  She always had good taste.  I looked up and saw the Victorian style showerhead.  It was made of brass, wide brimmed, like a sunflower.  The curtain dangled from an oval shower rod of brushed nickel.  Large streams of water attempted to cleanse the street from my skin.  Right into the drain where it belonged.  

     "Come and get your tea before it gets cold”  Bobby called out to me from the kitchen.  I heard the kettle singing, but I did not answer right away.  It felt good to be here with Bobby. It felt good to have my feet flat against the porcelain. The tiles made me feel safe.  They started mid-wall and continued around the room, ending at the entrance.

     I remember when we worked on this bathroom, maybe a year or so ago.  Bobby insisted on searching every small shop and art store for different ceramic tiles.  How young I was then.  So hopeful, full of life.  Like Spring.  

     My hair was drenched from the shower just  like that day in the rain with the tiles, running from taxi to taxi.  She looked beautiful that day.
Her short, auburn locks had lost its curl and hung limp around her face.  Her makeup fading, mascara crying dark angel tears down her face.  She was holding my hand.  

     We ended up in a Salvation Army.  That's where I found my tile.  The coneflowers. I found it discarded among brown and gold coffee mugs on wooden stands; jelly jars with cartoon characters on them and "Father of the Year" statues. There it lie, vibrant and glowing.  A spray of coneflowers on white ceramic tile, Indian Summer to be exact.  The flowers were stark and blazing against that bleak skyline of New York.

     Bobby stuck her head inside the crack of the bathroom door.

     "Are you okay, hon?” she said.
     "Yes, Bobby, I am fine”  I replied.  "I just noticed the coneflowers on the wall, that's all."

     Smiling, she came inside the room.  She walked over to the tub and reached her hand inside the shower curtain. She laid her palm on that tile, my tile, the coneflowers and sighed,

     "You know, Toni, I wish I could hold this tile in my hand."  The hot water fell upon my back, a gentle rain, as my fingers joined Bobby's on the smooth ceramic tile. "This has always been my favorite piece because you chose it” she said.

     We stood there forever, it seemed.  Both of us remembering that day, one of many, so long ago.  Lost now to cruel fate. Bobby drew her hand away first, giving me a stare which said:  I'm so sorry.  I became lost.  Lost in the reverie of youth, of Bobby.  Lost within her curls, her hazel eyes, that smile.

     She turned and began to walk away, then stopped.  

     "Toni? I think I can get that tile loose for us.  Give me a minute, okay hon?” she said.  

     I nodded my head.  Not quite comprehending what she meant, yet agreeing.  She handed me a towel, one of the large cotton ones that matched the tiles.  I stepped out of the tub, slipping my feet into her white fluffy slippers.  

     I started to dry myself and whispered, "Bobby?  What are you going to do with that tile?"  Smirking, she replied, "You'll see baby, you'll see."  

     The kettle was screeching now and Bobby hurried back to the kitchen. I heard her digging around in a drawer.  Here she comes, I thought. Her footsteps padding down the wooden hallway.  She returned with a small hammer and a straight blade screwdriver.  

     "Oh, Bobby, please.  Don't do that, really.  It will ruin your bathroom” I pleaded.  Even though I wanted that tile as badly as she did.  "Don't worry", her voice close to tears, "this needs to be done."  

     I looked at that tile and knew it must come out.  Gently, she placed the flat end of the screwdriver against the edge of the tile and tapped the end of the handle with the hammer.  Please God, just don't let it break, I thought.

     It didn't break.  That is one good thing about Bobby.  She knows how to take care of things.  We both placed our hands beneath the tile.  Loose grout fell onto the floor past the lip of the claw foot tub. It didn't take long before it came free.

     I left that bathroom with my coneflower.  It was who I used to be, who I longed to be again.  It was all I had left.  It belonged to me.  It belonged to us.   Bobby and I.  

     "Come now, let's go drink" she said.  "I have some whiskey that will go beautifully with our tea."  I followed her into the kitchen and sat down.  She motioned with a wave of her hand for me to go into the living room.  I sat down on the couch, draped in her bath towel.  

     "Bobby, we need some tunes" I said.  She came forward with a wooden tray.  On it were two china teacups and saucers, a plate of chocolates and the tile.  "Don't worry so much, Toni, I have it covered” she answered, as she placed the tray on the table.  

     She walked over to her Victrola.  One of those upright models in a Queen Anne style.  It had a patterned mahogany veneer.  She put the 78 on the turntable.  A couple of smooth cranks and she got it working.  She placed a fresh needle in the stylus and placed it in the groove of the record.  She slowly lowered the lid; I sat back and closed my eyes.  Lady Day filled the room scritch scratching her way into my bones.  Bobby sat down beside me.  

     She picked up the tile and put it in her palm.  I placed my hand over hers.  She moved closer to me when the ring of the phone startled us both.  Bobby got up to answer it.  

     "Hello?  Yes, she is.  I am fine, hon. No, no, not a problem at all"  Bobby shot me a worried look.  "Well", she said, "she is right here if you need to speak to her."  

     Bobby held the receiver out to me and said, "It's for you, Toni.  It's Jezelle."      
    


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Jack (I) /pip/Forum15/HTML/002279.html
        

                          
              
    

© Copyright 2005 Sue Eckam - All Rights Reserved
SEA
Deputy Moderator 10 ToursDeputy Moderator 5 Tours
Moderator
Member Seraphic
since 2000-01-18
Posts 22676
with you
1 posted 2005-03-07 01:10 PM


awesome...keep going...
Enchantress
Member Empyrean
since 2001-08-14
Posts 35113
Canada eh.
2 posted 2005-03-07 01:27 PM


Fantastic write..looking forward to more.
Dark Angel
Member Patricius
since 1999-08-04
Posts 10095

3 posted 2005-03-07 03:36 PM


Jeez Sue!

Hope you're there now writing the next scene...sigh

am loving this

Mxx

and i knew in the crystalline knowledge of you
~Buckingham/Nicks

Ringo
Deputy Moderator 10 ToursDeputy Moderator 10 ToursDeputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Elite
since 2003-02-20
Posts 3684
Saluting with misty eyes
4 posted 2005-03-07 03:41 PM


Poetry AND prose... If you can cook, then you're hired!!!!
lol
This is great. I can't wait to see the rest.

In the wooden chair
Beside my window
I wear a face born in the falling rain

littlewing
Member Rara Avis
since 2003-03-02
Posts 9655
New York
5 posted 2005-03-07 04:36 PM


you guys really make me smile, you know that?

Thank you so much, I mean this is hard to do, I never in a million years realized what it takes to write fiction, to have the sentences in order, the scenes in order, the dialogue, to make it sound fresh and interesting.  

There is a lot of work to do on these two bits, a lot of work.

But I thank you for liking it.  

(of course I can cook, sheesh, uhh hired??)

Poet deVine
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-26
Posts 22612
Hurricane Alley
6 posted 2005-03-07 05:48 PM


Ah...I found DIALOGUE and it was good!!!

(One thing, is she in a shower stall or in a claw foot tub or is the tub next to the shower stall? I'm confused.)

But you are writing a great story! I can't wait to read more!

Who'd a thunk good poets could be good prose writers? (ME!)

littlewing
Member Rara Avis
since 2003-03-02
Posts 9655
New York
7 posted 2005-03-07 11:07 PM


ahahah you know Sharon, as I was writing that I thought the same thing because I said stall . . . lemme go fix that . . . TY

It is actually a clawfoot tub with one of those rings around it to make a shower, you know what I mean?  So, I should not have used the word stall.

here you go:

Her apartment was fantastic.  She always had good taste.  I looked up and saw the Victorian style showerhead.  It was made of brass, wide brimmed, like a sunflower.  The curtain dangled from an oval shower rod of brushed nickel.  Large streams of water attempted to cleanse the street from my skin.  Right into the drain where it belonged.

and this:

I left that bathroom with my coneflower.  It was who I used to be, who I longed to be again.  It was all I had left.  It belonged to me.  It belonged to us.   Bobby and I.

Thanks, Sharon.  


  

inkedgoddess
Member Rara Avis
since 2002-11-19
Posts 7392
Ohio
8 posted 2005-03-08 08:38 PM


suzie,
this is good stuff
read part one also,
very descriptive, intelligent and draws the reader into the intrigue.....have to reread it again and take more in
good for you. to try this new form.
keep going with it

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