episode two

8/8/2019 Episode Two

http://slidepdf.com/reader/full/episode-two 1/7

Winnie’s fingers had begun to thaw out but there was still a chill in the car. She fixed her attention on the

traffic light to avoid eye contact with Ted and when it turned green Winnie began to speak in a calm and

steady voice.

“Listen Ted, Murf still believes in Jack. So what’s wrong with selling stories to magazines? Jack’s

working and he’s making a living as a writer. Why don’t you just drop it? And yes, I read Jack’s story! Ithought it was good!”

Winnie turned the song up to discourage any response from Ted but it couldn’t be prevented. Tedturned the song down and asked the question Winnie was waiting for but still not ready to answer.

“So tell me,” Ted jabbed, “That little bird Jack picked up at the station was you wasn’t she?”

Winnie turned the cd off completely. The music was doing nothing for this new mood that now

permeated the car. She cracked the window hoping the volatile air would leave on its own without

anymore words. But it didn’t. It never does. Once it starts it runs its course like the flu. It has

symptomatic stages like the flu and she felt it coming on. The tires crunched to a stop on the gravel

driveway. Winnie got out first and slammed the door. Ted stayed in the car to smoke a cigarette trying to

figure out who he hated more… his oldest friend Jack or himself.

~

Some years ago in Boston it was Larry Birds’ last game with the Celtics. That night the Prudential

Building left its lights on to configure Bird’s number “33” on all four sides of the skyscraper.

Prudential’s team pride gesture was emulated throughout the city. There was no escaping the number “33” anywhere that night. At the Sunrise Grille people greeted each other holding up three fingers on

each hand. Up and down Commonwealth Avenue you could buy things to eat, wave and wear shaped

like or emblazoned with the number “33.” Tonight Murf will be with his three oldest friends doing the

things they’ve always done together and on this night, as Boston and rest the world says thank you andgood bye to the great Larry Bird, another paradigm shift will rock the smaller world of four friends.

Murf got the Celtic tickets and planned the entire evening right down to the last event; the last event

would take place at Murf’s apartment. After the game they took a cab towards but not quite to Beacon

Hill. Murf makes good money at the agency but the Hill is still a ways off. Nonetheless, Murf is proud

of his address and he is proud of the life he has made for himself in Boston. It feels great to be with his

friends again but there is still one thing missing. Murf put the key in door of his apartment and held it

there looking at his watch.

Jack was the first to break the thirty-three seconds of awkward silence. “What’s up Murf, wrongapartment?” Everyone laughed but Murphy. Slowly panning the faces of his friends he smiled and said,

“Jack’s an asshole. I know exactly where I live. It’s just that I really love you guys and there’s someone

special I want you to meet.”

Murf held the door open for his three oldest friends. As they stepped into the apartment Ted blurted

out, “Oh no! Don’t tell me you got another fuckin’ dog Murf?”

When Murf pulled the door closed behind him you could hear the thud of the latch as it shut firmly and

flush, like the door of a mausoleum, a door designed to close once and stay closed forever. Murf actually

tugged the handle to test its strength and then turning to his best friends he said, “No… it’s not a fuckin’

dog Ted. I’ve got a boyfriend and his name is Doug.”

~

Ted finally came in from the cold to sleep on the couch. Winnie was already upstairs asleep or maybe she was pretending to be asleep. Either way there were no more words that night and in the

morning while Ted was asleep or maybe pretending to be asleep Winnie drove herself to the train station.

It was a long ride into New York that morning.

The last leg of the Northeast Corridor running from Trenton to Manhattan gathers smaller commuter

railway lines along the way forming a massive braid of switches and track that run through real estate

long ago left for dead. Only the train commuter gets to see this world under bridges and behind retention

walls. It’s the world of abandoned factories and loading docks. It’s the ass end of junkyards and

petroleum refineries. It’s the backs of brick buildings with no signage where caustic cleaning fluids are



The conversation with Eddie did nothing to ease Winnie’s anxiety. In fact it troubled her even

more to think that Eddie, a long time friend was so guarded about the details of the incident and

then how quickly he ended the call after she mentioned the video tape. Eddie may have said hewasn’t representing Ted… but he sure acted like he was.

Winnie pushed the phone conversation with Eddie to the side and took a breath to read the

letter she had been waiting for. It was a response from Ted’s ex-wife. Winnie had written her asking for some details about their break up. What Winnie really wanted was self confirmation;

a reality-check of some kind about Ted’s rage. Was she overreacting or is Ted a ticking rage

bomb ready to blow her life apart.

Dear Winnie,Zak tells me you are very nice and I’m sure you are however; my

relationship with Ted is none of your business. If you have questions aboutus ask him. As far your personal safety I will tell you this, Ted gets jealousand Ted gets mad, crazy mad and I have no desire to revisit that part of mylife so please leave me out of your problems with Ted.

Ann.Winnie buzzed Joel, “Hold my calls and cancel my ten o’clock.”

“Anything special you want me to say?”“Say… I have the flu.”

~

Jack’s simple story in Bird Watcher Magazine was successful. The story was picked up by a

syndicator and appeared in the Sunday Magazine Section of several newspapers. Bird Watcher

wanted another piece, a longer piece to run in the September issue with an ‘end of summer’theme. Murphy is excited to call Jack and give him the news. He also wants to apologize for

some of the things he said the last time they spoke. That’s the way Murphy is; the first to bitch

and moan but also the first to admit if he’s wrong about something.

It’s Monday again. Jack is listening to Mr. Coffee wheeze water into coffee. It’s always thelast wheeze that seems to go on forever and when it’s over Mr. Coffee is drained and weakened

to the point of collapse. Every morning Jack wonders if this will be the day he discovers thatMr. Coffee has died in his sleep.< JACK - IF YOU’RE READING THIS - YOU’RE NOT WRITING - IF YOU’RE NOT WRITING-GO TO BED >

Jack’s been developing unnatural relations with his appliances for a while now. He comforts

Mr. Coffee, he tells the phone to go to hell and he grovels under the cruel scepter of his screen

saver. But today is Monday! Today the quiet revolution begins. Today Jack will defy histaskmaster because today Jack’s not going to write and he’s not going back to bed! Jack’s going

to shower and shave because today Gabriella is coming to clean.

The black wall phone refuses to stop tapping and Jack answers it angrily, “This is Jack!”

“Jack, it’s Murphy, you working?”“Shit Murf! I’m soaking wet!”

“Sorry, but we’ve got great news! Bird Watcher wants another for piece for September but

you’ve got to make it longer Jack.”“Murf, that is great news!”

“Did you hear what I said Jack? Longer!”

“Yeah! I heard you. Longer! Thanks Murf, I really appreciate it.”“Jack, one more thing. Sorry about comin’ down hard on you the other day but you’ve got to

send me a few chapters of the book… then I can really get things going here. I could get you



signed up with the agency but I NEED more! I NEED a book!”

“Thanks Murf. I’ll call you later.” Jack hung up and on his way back to the bathroom he

walked past his pc and turned the monitor off…. < JACK - IF YOU’RE READING THIS - YOU’RE NOT WRITING - IF YOU’RE [Click!]

Jack had deliberately parked the MG in the garage hoping that Gabriella would let herself intohis apartment with her client key. She did, and as the girl walked towards the kitchen sink to run

some hot water for her pails she was surprised to see Jack standing at the bathroom sink shaving,

wearing only a towel.“Oh! Jock, I’m sorry! I thought you was not home!” Gabriella said blushingly.

Jack was in great shape. He wasn’t built up but his body looked strong. His hair was wet and

combed back and his face was dotted with shaving cream on the places he didn’t shave. Jack cupped his hands under the faucet and Gabriella knew that she had to stop looking but she didn’t.

She watched as Jack repeatedly pulled handfuls of hot water to his face and when the soap was

gone he looked up at her dabbing his face with a hand towel. The space around Jack was

swirling with steam from the faucet and his eyes were sharp. His boyish grin was even sharper.Gabriella tried to look away but her head would not turn so she lowered her eyes to the floor.

Only then was she able to break away from the moment and make her way to the kitchen sink. It

was a powerful moment for Jack as well. He felt her watching him and he was exhilarated butnow Gabriella had turned away.

Jack tried to retrieve her gaze and said, “Oh! I didn’t want to put the top up last night so I

parked my car in the garage. I guess you didn’t see it. Sorry if I startled you.” It wasn’tworking. Gabriella stood at the kitchen sink running hot water into her pail but Jack continued

anyway, “I’m taking the day off to drive to the beach and eat some steamers.”

“Your computer… eats off too, I see.” She said, still turned away from him.

“Well, just the monitor. The computer is on… but I’m sick of it. I feel like my computer isalways looking at me… trying to read my mind.”

“What’s this mean? Read my mind …” “It means the computer wants to know what I’m thinking.” After he belted his jeans, Jack pulled his favorite Knickerbockers tee shirt on and then sat on the Hide-a-Bed to tie his Converse

hi-tops.

“Me to!” Gabriella didn’t say it but she thought it. “Anyway, What’s steamers?” She askedJack, still with her back to him.

“Clams… steamed clams. An iced cold beer and a pot of steamed clams, that’s what I need

today…” Deliberately making it sound as if he were kidding, Jack quipped. “Why don’t youtake a day off too and come with me? I’m going down to Point Pleasant.”

“I hate clams.” Gabriella answered looking at Jack for the first time since he got dressed. “And

anyways I got to work!” Gabriella turned back to the kitchen sink hiding her expression from

Jack. She closed her eyes and drew a slow breath through her nostrils trying hard to think of a better response to his offer and trying harder not to think about having just seen Jack in a towel.

Gabriella looked over her shoulder to speak, “And my boyfriend, he will be very mad when I gowith you!” She also wanted to sound as if she was kidding but she wasn’t.

“Oh, him?” Jack laughed, “He can come with us.” Jack punctuated the stupid comment with a

stupid smile and Gabriella looked away for good. There was nothing left for Jack to say or do.

He played his hand and lost. It was time to walk away from the table. Gabriella feltuncomfortable and Jack felt uncomfortable. He grabbed his keys and left.

As Jack drove past the privet hedges down the long gravel driveway to the street dust rose up behind

the MG and clouded his view in the side mirrors. He couldn’t see it but he knew it was there. Gabriella’s



dented Fiesta was parked by the wooden stairs and she was walking around his home, dusting and wiping

down anything she could pick up. Jack was pissed-off at himself because he had gambled and lost the

little time he had to spend with Gabriella. Now he wouldn’t see her again for week. He didn’t go to the

beach and he didn’t eat steamers. Jack drove around the corner to the Clover Club Bar and drank beer

until the girl named after a hurricane left his apartment. When he returned home Jack found his house keyScotch taped to a note:

Jock, Today is my last days to working for you. I am sorry for a quick note. Thanks forhelping all these times before with my things up the steps. You very sweet Jock, Ido always remember you.Gabriella.

Jack put the note and the house key in his pocket and wondered towards the dinette. With a sense of

unconditional surrender he sat down and turned on the pc monitor. As it started up, the screen buzzed and

crackled angrily at Jack for a few seconds and then quietly began to display its message:

< JACK - IF YOU’RE READING THIS - YOU’RE NOT WRITING - IF YOU’RE NOT WRITING – GO TO BED >

Jack began to write.

“ Late Summer Beach Day”

by: J. Prust

There’s a stiff breeze out of the northeast. Waves are one to two feet with an angular chop. Two miles

off-shore to the southeast thirty sailboats race up wind as they round the north inlet buoy their spinnakersare let out to catch the bigger portion of wind now at their backs. The din of the surf masks the annoying whine of two jet-skis jumping small waves just before they break. Directly in front of me a tern stalls in aheadwind and remains suspended over the same spot for ten seconds then with a slight tilt of his head the

breeze catches his perfect form and sends him sailing south. At dead high tide only the biggest waves will wash up within a few feet of my chair. This is a good spot

for now but a good spot on the beach will change with time and tide. Like heliotrope flowers, beachchairs turn their occupant’s faces to the sun and now I am looking away from the ocean but it’s still all I

can hear. There is no sound coming from the direction I am looking. I am watching a silent movie.

Canvas awnings on bungalows along the beachfront are billowing in the wind. Flags are stiff with their top corners flipping wildly back and forth. I can easily imagine the sounds I am seeing but I hear nothing. Fifteen feet in front of me there is a woman in a chair reading aloud to her friend who is face

down on a beach towel. I see the reader’s lips move and now they are both laughing… but I hear nothing. To my left, only fifty feet away, a boy is pitching a hardball to his friend. The catcher’s mitt

swallows the fastball whole emitting a puff of dust blown away instantly… but I hear nothing. Frombehind the sand dunes a small John Deere tractor appears pulling a trailer loaded with empty trash cans. As it jerks its way over the sand I can see the cans bouncing against one another, but I hear nothing;nothing but the soft white noise of the ocean behind me. May I remember this peaceful wash of sound the

next time I’m stuck in traffic or forced to listen to Muzak on hold. May I remember how to get back tothis place where the buried treasures of my heart are safe.

The End

Perth Amboy, New Jersey is a town on the north shore of the Raritan Bay.Because of its diverse ethnicity it has the feel of a much larger city. Perth Amboyhas some wonderful Portuguese and Spanish restaurants and bakeries. All of themare authentic and each has its own Papa and Mama overseeing everything.

On warm summer nights entire families gather on front stoops just to betogether. Without thinking, children and parents alike switch languages in mid-sentence to speak with grandparents. It’s all one language for them. These



communities are rooted in tradition but there is no old world or new world. It’s justtheir world, their food, their music and the pride they have in being themselves,enjoying life and working hard.

Leon was once one of those kids on a stoop speaking Portuguese and English inthe same breath. He was one of those kids surrounded by an ocean of uncles,aunts, sisters, brothers and cousins, lots of cousins. After graduating high school

Leon was expected to work with his father and uncles in the family constructionbusiness. It was hard work but good money. Leon did it for a while but it didn’twork out. His friend Emilio hooked him up with a job as a waiter at the Fortress, afine Portuguese restaurant on the Raritan Bay. Customers liked Leon and Leon likedbeing a waiter. The job opened his eyes to a world he had never seen before. InLeon’s other life he’d be in bed by 10pm, the only night owls in that world arenewborns and nursing mothers. The men are out of the house by 5am everyday –everyday but Sunday. They worked extremely hard for a good life and because itwas such hard work the measure of goodness they enjoyed was never taken forgranted.

The Maitre-di called Leon into the kitchen.“There’s a private party of eight arriving at ten and they want the upstairs

atrium. Can you handle it yourself Leon?”“No problem Theo!”“Listen Leon, you take care of these guys and don’t worry about your regular

station. Emilio will help you set up but then you’re on your own. Okay?”“Sure Theo. No problem!”Theo put his hand on Leon’s shoulder and squeezed hard but affectionately. He

loved him like a son. “Now take your break and eat something. These guys aregonna keep you up late tonight.”

At 9:45pm while their fathers and uncles were pulling pressed bed sheets overtheir heads, Leon and Emilio were pulling pressed linens over the large table in theatrium.

As he lit the last candle Emilio said, “You know, these guys are loaded Leon and

their women are beautiful man! I mean delicia man!” As he said it, Emilio blewthe match out with a kiss.

Leon knew exactly what Emilio meant and he interrupted him, “Forget it!Gabriella would cut my balls off!”

“Huh! I think she already did!”Emilio shook his head and left Leon alone as the party of eight arrived. The

seating was pre-arranged at the host’s request with the women on one side and themen on the other. The men were impeccably dressed in Armani suits and alligatorshoes and Emilio was right, the women were delicia!

The host of the party entered the atrium first as Leon stood at attention justinside the entryway. The host reached for Leon’s hand and released some foldedbills into his palm. In one smooth motion Leon slid the bills into the inside vestpocket of his white jacket and motioned for the ladies to sit. With extreme graceLeon adjusted each of them into their chairs. He was charming and very handsome.Right from the start the host was pleased. He liked the room and he liked Leon.After the party was seated Leon began to open and pour the wine that was pre-selected and waiting for them at their table. Everything about the night seemed tobe pre-arranged. The group didn’t order from the menu. Carts of beautifullypresented food arrived every twenty minutes, served tapas style with exquisitebottles of wine. Theo was right, the group took their time and stayed very late.



As the guests were leaving Leon took his place by the entranceway of the atrium.Each of the men patted Leon on the back and slipped him a bill or two and thewomen smiled and said goodbye. A good waiter is like a centurion guard standingwatch over his charge. He would never make a gesture towards a customer otherthan to serve or clear a plate or fill a glass. A good waiter would never extend hishand first to greet or say goodbye to a customer and if the customer did slip him a

tip he would never look to see how much it was. In fact he would never take hiseyes off the customer’s face throughout the exchange. On the other hand themaitre-di is permitted to visit his customers at their tables bringing handshakes forthe men, kisses for the ladies and pats on the head’s of youngsters.

Leon watched as Theo met the party at the top of the stairway. He marveled atthe way Theo handled himself and how confident he was that people liked him. Asthe party disappeared down the stairs Leon untied his bowtie and sat down to havea cigarette in the empty dining room. It was okay to smoke. Every other customerin the restaurant was long gone. Beginning to relax, Leon reached into his vestpocket to count his tips for the first time that evening. He was thinking that just afew months ago he would have been waking up in two hours to start a full day of hard labor for about $750 a week when he suddenly realized he had just unfolded

nine, one-hundred dollar bills.Leon has his own apartment and Gabriella lives at home with her parents and her

brother Emilio. Emilio accepted the fact that Leon and his sister were planning toget married but he didn’t really like the idea. Not because he disapproved of Leonbut because they didn’t hang out the way they used to. Emilio and Leon used to goclubbing together, pick up girls together, smoke a little weed and drive aroundtogether. But now it’s all about the future for Leon. Leon wants to save enoughmoney to start a life with Gabriella. Emilio wants to spend money faster that he canmake it. And that’s exactly what he does. Emilio has been a waiter for a few yearsand he has seen a lot. He’s seen a lot of fat cats with beautiful girls hanging ontheir arms. He’s watched those fat cats peel hundred dollar bills from rolls of cashas big as his fist. Emilio’s eyes are always drifting to his customer’s expensive

watches and their girlfriend’s diamonds. Once Emilio had spent his entire paycheckon one pair of shoes and more than once Emilio has had to find alternative ways topay his bills and put cash in his pocket.

episode two

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