We both were on the bank of the river watching the sunrise. She looked so pretty under the scarlet sky. Her skin had a surreal glow. She closed her eyes eyes to feel the fresh air. This was the only place she wanted to go before her heart transplant. "This place has some power, Meghan! Some kinda positivity. Everytime I come here I forget all the pain inside me" Chrissy said. " Yes, Chrissy you're right" I said. We are best friends since second grade with really no boundaries, I mean I can possibly tell you how many zits she had her whole life!! We have always been together and I really hope that we will be together in future!

Since a few months months, she had been feeling a bit dizzy and tired. The worst part came three months back, when she wasn't able to do breathe in the P.E. class after finishing her exercise and then she collapsed in the school ground.

After tests and medical examination, we got to know that she suffering from "Coronary artery disease" which has made her heart walls and vessels very weak or I should say chronic. That's why she needs to get a heart transplant. But that can be only 75% effective. But it could help her live a little longer. But at that time for us something was better than nothing. After the struggle of three months , finally she got a matching donor heart . The day I got know this news I danced around her hospital room like a crazy person. Days passed like a waterfall , and the Big day came . Christine has been prepared by the nurses and doctors since a week. The syringes, medication, antiseptic smell everything was making me nervous trillion times more than her. And then I was wondered what will happen as the forceps , cuts and bleeding will happen. I haven't been to school since a week. Because I can't leave her anyhow. She is like a sister to me. Finally when she was about to go to the OT. Doctors let only two of the family members meet her before the transplant . My eyes showed a sign of worry that I will not be able to meet her. Christine's father went to talk to the doctor about it and finally he came to me and said, "You should go with Christine's mother , at this time she needs you more than me." My eyes were filled with tears as he said this to me. I said, " Thank you so much, uncle". And then hugged him. I went towards her and looked at her, her half opened eyes recognised me and she held my hands. I was crying but tried to control my tears at my best. I said, "Chrissy! You have to come back healthy and strong. We have to dance on our annual function together. We promised each other. Okay! You can't leave your bff Meghan alone ...You can't do that...." Christine's eyes filled with tears and she nodded. But couldn't say anything because of the oxygen mask. Her mother then kissed her forehead and hugged her. Then a nurse came to make us leave the OT. As I got out of the room I couldn't control my tears anymore. I cried a lot. Chrissy's mother hugged me and tried to make me calm but couldn't control her tears either. "Will I ever see you again in your bubblish version?". The only question wriggled around my mind. The operation took about 11 hours. This struggle between life and death is inescapable. But if the struggle doesn't give you a fruit it breaks you down into thousands pieces.

"Christine couldn't make it" As the doctor said these words. I felt lifeless. As if my soul left my body. I was beyond devasted. My Chrissy is no more! My sister! Why God why? Why you took away her from me? Christine's parents were sitting on the other bench shocked and shattered. Her mother was so weak that she couldn't even cry properly. Her father put his head on his laps and cried a lot. I went towards them and hugged them. Both of them held me tightly and soaked my t-shirt with their pain. Then Chrissy's body on the bed came out of the OT. It was getting transferred for the paperwork. I nearly jumped to see her. Her eyes were closed. Her body was lifeless. I shouted like a million times, "Chrissy stop acting, I know this is your Oscar winning performance....you can't leave me like this.....get up Chrissy! Get up!" . Some of the nurses came and held me aside so that her bed can go forward. I struggled to get myself freed from those hands. I shouted but nothing could help she is gone. Gone Forever. Now it's been three years since she passed away. And every evening I come near this river and read the paper that Chrissy wrote for me days before her operation.

It says, Hey Meghan, I know you will be reading this a billionth time since I died. Because if I am alive you probably wouldn't have seen this paper in your life. I just wanna say bestie that you are an angel!! You take care of me so much even more than my mother. This operation can never separate us in anyway. Because I am always with you sister. Even if I am a ghost!

And if there is a hard time and you wanna talk so much about it just come to our favourite place near the river and sit right there. My soul would be there, wandering to listen to your shit talk everytime. I love you Meghan. Always be like this in future. Your bff Chrissy I can't say that I talk to Chrissy soul when I come right here. But I can say that, I feel calm. The air around this place has her scent. When I look in the river, the moon's reflection has her face engraved on it. It feels she is here with me.


Joyce had just put her pan in the oven when there was a knock on her door.            “It’s open,” she called, as Paisley, her tortie cat, wove between her legs.            “Hey,” Kenny said, coming on in, carrying a six-pack. “Something smells good,” he said, helping himself to a beer then sticking the rest in the fridge. “Want one?” he asked, his hair still damp from his shower, falling in his face. “Maybe later,” Joyce said, wiping down the counter. “I’m making brownies.”            The TV was blaring Jeopardy, so Kenny plopped in the well-worn recliner. Joyce kept the old chair around because it had been her dad’s favorite, and now it was Kenny’s.            Joyce poured a healthy glass of wine and took her place on the couch, tucking in her feet, and patting the couch for Paisley to hop up. The cat ignored her.            “How was your day? she asked, Kenny, as they watched the game show and sat in companionable silence.            “Crap,” Kenny answered, taking a big swig of beer, and putting his feet on the coffee table, since the recliner no longer reclined. “Manager has it in for me.”            At 54, her long, wavy hair was still her best feature, so she usually wore it down. “I told you I’d help you find another job,” Joyce reminded him.            The one thing Kenny disliked more than his boss was computers. He refused to look for another job because everything had to be done online now, so he stayed at the garage and complained instead.            Jeopardy gave way to a new episode of NCIS. When the buzzer went off, Joyce quickly put the dessert on a hot plate and returned. “They’ll be cool in a bit,” she said, picking her wine back up.            “Think this’ll be the last season? Kenny wondered.            “Naw. This show will go on forever. I bet it has a cult following,” Joyce murmured.            On the next commercial break, Joyce got up to cut the brownies. “You want ice cream with it?”            “Sure,” Kenny nodded, getting up to grab another beer.            “My daughter is coming to visit soon,” Joyce said, scooping out 2 large helpings of vanilla ice cream.            “How is Jodie doing?”            “Good. She really likes her new job. And I think she wants me to meet her new boyfriend,” Joyce said, setting the heaping bowls on the coffee table.            “This looks good,” he said, putting down his beer and snatching up his sundae. “I just had a skimpy frozen dinner tonight.”            “So, what’s new?” Joyce teased. “You never cook. I told you to come earlier. I never cook for just one,” she reminded him. “Stubborn.”            “So, when is Jodie coming?”            “Weekend after next.”            “Are we still on for cards this weekend?” he asked.            “Is the Pope Catholic?” she replied, sarcastically.            Kenny chuckled as he scooped up a large bite of brownie.            At 10:00 they watched the news and complained about the local politicians, while Kenny popped open another beer.            “Cheers,” he said, holding up his last beer.            “You want a brownie to take home?”            “Sure,” he said, taking a slurp, feeling very relaxed.            “Good thing you live next door,” Joyce told him.

           They’d been friends for 20 years. Way back when they were both married to other people. The four of them occasionally partied together. Then Kenny’s wife left him, and Joyce and her husband still tried to include him.            When Joyce got divorced one night they got plastered together and commiserated over their marriages. Then they just started hanging out together. It was better than being alone. Now they mostly watched TV in the evenings. Joyce helped Kenny with his taxes and any paperwork, while Kenny could fix anything. They never verbalized their feelings, but they became much better friends since their divorces.            At 11:00 on the dot, Kenny headed home. They both got up early for work.            “See yah tomorrow,” Kenny said, heading for the door.            “Dinner’s at 6:30,” Joyce commanded. “I’ll see you then.”            “Fine. What can I bring then,” he asked, sounding annoyed, yet not really?            “Nothing. Just your charming self,” Joyce snapped.            “Humph,” he muttered and left.

           Over the next week they ate dinner together each night. Generally, Joyce cooked, although Kenny brought take-out one night. Neither one of them was interested in dating, so this arrangement suited them. Mutual friends tried to insist they were dating but after each of them had been burned in divorce, they knew otherwise. Their friendship was less complicated with mutual respect.            The following Tuesday, Kenny showed up spitting mad with a case of Coors - his beer of choice.            “What happened to you?” Joyce asked, the minute he walked in red-faced and swearing.            “Don’t ask!” he snapped, continuing to mutter under his breath. He popped a cold one and downed it while he leaned against the countertop.            “Work again?” Joyce guessed.             He nodded with another swig of beer.            “You’re a talented mechanic, Kenny. You can find something better, if you want,” she suggested, softly, not wanting to piss him off further.            “That’d serve him right,” Kenny spat. “I just might!”            “All right then. When you’re ready I’ll help you,” Joyce assured him.            “Damn fool. He’s gone too far this time.  You know he reprimanded me for something I didn’t even do, and in front of a customer? Can you believe that?”            “I know you can do better,” Joyce said, placing her piping hot casserole on the table.            “Damn right I can.”            “On a happier note, Jodie will be here this weekend,” Joyce told him. “I’m cooking pot roast so mark your calendar.”            “That’s a family thing,” he said, his mind temporarily off his problems.            “You’re family,” Joyce scolded.            Kenny frowned with a look of confusion. “Won’t Jodie wonder why I’m there?”            “No,” Joyce answered.  “Jodie has known you most of her life. She knows you’re a fixture around here.”            “Well, I…,” he hesitated, at a loss for words.            Joyce laughed it off. “She knows we’re not together like that,” she pointed out.            “Well, I know, but it’s not like we’re family.”            “It’s not?” Joyce asked, irritated. “Family doesn’t have to be blood. I’m closer to you than most of my family,” she stated, taking a deep breath.            “Well,” Kenny stammered. “It should just be you and Jodie, that’s all.”            “So, you can hang out with me every night, like a family member, but when my daughter comes to visit you get the heck out?”            “Yeah,” Kenny said, losing his enthusiasm.            “That’s ridiculous! We’re more than friends. Why can’t you admit that?”            “Look, I don’t want to argue,” he said, setting down his beer.            “So, you’re not coming and we’re not “family,” she air quoted.            “Something like that,” he said, with a sigh.            “You can’t admit I mean something to you, is that it?” Joyce fumed.            “We have a nice thing going,” he defended. “It’s simple. Why complicate it?”            “Because you matter to me,” Joyce told him. “I’m with you more than I am anyone, and if you can’t admit we’re more to each other, maybe you should leave.”            “Dammit, Joyce,” he fumbled for words. “Fine then,” he said, and got up and left, slamming the door behind him.  Kenny wasn’t one for sentiment. He hated being vulnerable.            Joyce spied his case of beer sitting on the counter and she knew he had too much pride to come back for it. Stubborn fool, she muttered to herself.            There was no need for all this drama, she sighed, flopping down in her seat. Who needed this crap anyway, she thought, throwing her hands in the air? What? His ego couldn’t handle needing her. Joyce had had enough of that when she was married.            The rest of the week, Joyce ate and watched TV alone, often wondering if she’d pushed too hard. They had a good thing going, without all the expectations of a romantic relationship, so why had she gotten so mad? Why was it so difficult for Kenny to be vulnerable? Teresa, his ex, had sure complained about this over the years. So, he didn’t want to acknowledge that they were their own kind of family. So what? Why hadn’t she left good enough alone?            Joyce knew what Kenny was like. He once told her his dad had really hurt him and he'd never been able to let it go. That was the most he would tell her, and he has never referenced it again. That was the thing about their relationship. They accepted each other the way they were - flaws and all. And then she'd gone and pushed him for more. Joyce knew Kenny loved her like family even if he couldn't say it. She should have let him alone.            By Saturday, Joyce still hadn't heard from him. She'd picked the phone up a half a dozen times to call him but chickened out. He knew how she felt, she told herself. Why did she have to be the one to make overtures?

           Simmering pot roast and potatoes filled the air while Joyce set the table. She set a place for Kenny just in case, but she doubted he would show at this point. Jodie was due any moment. It would be good to see her and meet her boyfriend. Joyce nudged Paisley with her foot, who was sniffing around the table.

           “You have your own food,” she scolded.            There was a rap on the door, and Joyce tidied up some more while she went to answer it. She thought Jodie still had a key and wondered why she was knocking.            “I thought you had a key,” she said, swinging the door open.            Kenny stood on the stoop with a sheepish grin on his face, holding a bottle of her favorite wine. “Hey,” he said, handing it to her. “Am I still invited?”            “Of course,” Joyce said, letting him in. “Jodie should be here soon. Dinner is almost ready.”            “Wow! You went all out,” he said, admiring the nicely laid table.

           “I don’t see my kid that much these days,” Joyce reasoned. “And apparently this new boyfriend is serious,” she confided in Kenny. “Beer?”            “Sure,” he said. “It smells like Christmas dinner,” he praised.            Joyce knew it took a lot for Kenny to show up. It was his way of apologizing, she knew. Joyce didn’t bring up their argument and she knew he wouldn’t either, and just like that they were okay again.


COME FULL CIRCLE Jackson Snell lived for his morning coffee, his routine, his ritual if you will. Growing up on a truck farm with his parents and younger brother and sisters in rural Alabama, is where he cultivated this penchant for morning coffee. It traveled with to Chicago, some forty years ago. At sixty-seven years of age it stayed with him. This daily routine fortified his resolve that his decision to accept a transfer forty years ago as the right one. Now he lived in East Lake View, not a swanky neighborhood, but a lovely one nonetheless. As he walked through the doors of his neighborhood coffee shop, a warm greeting awaited as it did every morning. “Hey, Jackson, how are you this morning?” asked the young barista. “Jest fine, Mindy, jest fine. How ‘bout y’all?” “Can’t complain. The usual?” “Sho’ ‘nuff. Like they say; if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. But maybe this once get me one of them lemon squares today.” “You got it.” Paying for his coffee with a generous tip, he settled into his favorite window seat. The morning traffic on Clark Street always punctuated a smile across his face. He settled into city life with such ease it surprised him; he made friends and grew to love city life. It took a while, but he managed to even switch his allegiance from the Braves to the White Sox and didn’t find the designated hitter rule the evil he always thought it to be. His smile broadened as his mind drifted back to those hard scrabble days on the farm. It wasn’t a longing for the good old days, but it was for the change his life had taken. Like they say, ‘Life is good’. Retired now, he found his life a lot more than good; morning coffee and this afternoon at the zoo with his grandkids. What could be better? Life was damn good, he thought. While he sat contemplating his life and how good he had it, he never noticed the attractive, matronly woman entering the shop, going to the counter and ordering tea. Jackson paid no attention to her, until she sat at his table directly across from him. A quick glance around the shop, revealed half dozen empty tables, but here she sat right opposite him at his window table. She placed her purse to her left, grasped her tea in both hands, and took a deep sip, closing her eyes enjoying the warmth drifting down her throat. Looking up, Jackson saw an attractive older black woman, not as old as himself, but north of fifty. Soft, hazel eyes; no make-up, a pale-yellow blouse with no jewelry completed the picture. Her smile beamed, yet it seemed shallow and forced. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but do I know you?” “That truly saddens me, Mr. Snell. Of all the folks that done crossed yo’ path, surely I thought you’d remember me; Viola McBee.” “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I have no recollection of that name, or such a lovely face.” “Well, maybe this will jog ya’ll’s memory some.” As she reached into her purse, Jackson took a sip of his coffee. When he looked back up, Viola McBee dead aimed her small .25 automatic at his face. She pulled the trigger twice. The impact of the shots threw Jackson out of his seat and onto the floor. Viola McBee nestled her gun onto the table and resumed her tea. Two hours later she sat in an interview room at the thirteenth precinct. Her hands folded demurely on the table in front of her, her expression calm and unruffled, at peace. As they watched her, the only items that seemed to be missing were white gloves, a pillbox hat, and a bible. Detectives Lintelli and Stanton seated across from her; they observed for a while. Viola said little more than to confirm her name and address. “I don’t get it. Mr. Snell was overheard telling you that he didn’t know you, yet you shot him to death. I don’t get it.” “Mr. Snell misspoke. He knew me, he just didn’t remember me.” “I still don’t get it,” said Stanton. “Did you know he was planning to take his grandkids to the zoo later on today? What if they were there?” This seemed to jolt her back to the present. She stared at the interrogators. “I would have waited. He had grandchildren?” “Yes, but thanks to you, they don’t have a grandfather anymore.” “It would seem so, but they didn’t need this one. No, not this one.” “The family will never be the same. Never.” “Happens to the best of families, don’t it? Look, I done what I done and ain’t gon’ apologize for it neither.” “We’re beginning to get that, but the question still remains; why did you do it?” When the words were out of the detectives’ lips, Viola’s eyes averted theirs, tears formed in them, the hazel color shrouded with moisture. She reached into her blouse and brought out a small, unsealed envelope and plopped it on the table. “This be my answer to your ‘why’.” Stanton picked up the envelope as if picking up a double-edged razor and gingerly opened it. Inside she found a folded, yellowed newspaper clipping; a small article and picture. “Oh, my God!” she exclaimed. Lintelli reached over and took it from her hand. “Jesus!” he said. The article was an explanation of the picture. It was of a lynching in Coffee County, Alabama, August of 1968; white people standing around; men, women, children as if at a fourth of July picnic. Drinking from cups and bottles, smiling, eating snow cones. No caption, no explanation under the photo, just two figures circled. A black man hung from a tree; his neck elongated, his tongue purpled and swollen bulging out his mouth, his pants pulled down around his ankles, the lower half of his body drenched in blood. “They done hung my Daddy. That be August, 1968. Them circled pictures be Mr. Jackson Snell and his buddy, Caleb Potter. “They lynched your father?” “Yes, suh, they surely did.” “Why?” She three both detectives a glance that revealed to them how stupid their question was. “’Cause it was 1968, Coffee County, Alabama. Cain’t you read? That’s all the reason they needed, but they did have another.” Lintelli glanced once again at the photo. “Why just kill Mr. Snell? I mean it looks like there were a lot of participants here.” “Maybe ‘cause everybody there didn’t rape my Daddy’s eleven-year-old daughter, his only daughter; only Jackson Snell and Caleb Potter.” Viola’s bottom lip quivered; the tears poured out now. “They raped me. They yanked me off the road. I was comin’ home from the store. They took me back in the swamp and took turns. “When they had they fill, they let me go, tellin’ me they’d be back when I got older and learnt some things ‘cause they loved them some dark meat. I can still hear them laughin’ as they drove off. “I tol’ my Daddy and his mistake was he went and tol’ the sheriff. That sheriff went and tol’ them dirt farmer Snells. Next thing I know is they breakin’ in our house and draggin’ my Daddy out. “As they was draggin’ my Daddy out, my Mama held me back. I was cryin’, screamin’, and beggin’ them not to. That’s when Mr. Jackson Snell turned, smiled, and winked at me. That’s also when I knew this day would come.” She lowered her head, gazing at her lap, then slowly raised it to face the detectives. “So, you say, Mr. Snell had grandkids? Well, I ain’t got none. Aftuh they done what they did, I couldn’t have no kids. No kids fo’ me meant no man evuh looked my way. It was like I was marked since I been eleven. Yes, suh, marked. No man wanted me, but they was no man I wanted aftuh they done, what they did.” Both Lintelli and Stanton sat there, stunned as if hit by lightning, not knowing what to do or say. After a somber silence, Stanton spoke. “Ms. McBee, I don’t know what to say. I – “ “Don’t fret about it none, sweetheart. I knew what I was doin’ and I knew what the outcome would be, so it ain’t yo’ problem. It’s between me and the Lawd. Hope She will understand.” “She?” “One of my last remainin’ hopes fo’ forgiveness.” As if on cue two uniforms came in to escort Viola McBee away and back to the holding cells. She turned one last time before exiting through the door. “You might wanna call the Coffee County Sheriff’s Office, and clear up a missing person’s report for them. They can find Caleb Potter’s body down by Bryson Creek. That’s where they took me that day. “Also tell them they woulda been another, but the devil came up and snatched that sheriff befo’ I could.” As she left out the door, the detectives sat, each in their own way, trying to define justice and its true meaning.


The Fiery Phoenix was in chains tied to the walls of Frostbite’s icy prison. “You broke my heart and refused my proposal! I loved you! I was ready to spend my life with you, but you said no!” Frostbite said with an icy cold glare.

“I wasn’t ready! Can you blame me? I was young and didn’t want to leave my family yet. I am sorry that I hurt you! I loved you as well!” The Fiery Phoenix said with passion.

“Clearly you didn’t love me enough, but it really is too bad I don’t love you anymore!” Frostbite said as he aimed his hands at her to freeze her.

1 year earlier… Jake Jenkins and Ember Delaney sat on a picnic blanket watching the sunset. They had been dating for three years.

“I love you Ember, and I wanted to ask you...” He got onto one knee, “Will you marry me?” He asked with a huge smile on his face.

“Jake! I don’t know what to say!” Ember said excited but also nervous.

“It’s easy, you just say yes,” he said now concerned.

“I don’t think I am ready yet… I mean I am not even 19 yet,” Ember said since she was 18 years old.

“I am 20, and I promise I will take care of you more than I take care of myself!” Jake said passionately.

“Sorry Jake, not yet... I don’t want to rush. Next year I will be ready, but not yet” Ember replied feeling awkward.

“It’s ok, I will wait for you… always,” Jake replied forcing a smile to hide the pain inside.

“See you tomorrow, Jake,” Ember said smiling since she thought everything was ok.

Jake left to go to his workplace. He worked at a lab that was working on ways to enhance humans. He helped invent a lot of the things there. There was one specific invention that had always held his attention, and it was the ice enhancer. It was designed to help humans have ice powers and to be stronger. So far, the tests on animal subjects had not been entirely successful; some had, but some had also gone terribly wrong.

“Jake! Good to see my favorite inventor!” Jake’s boss Calvin said as he came over.

“What do you want, Calvin?” Jake asked, since Calvin had never been one to give compliments.

“I need a human subject to do the ice test,” Calvin said to him.

“It is very inconsistent though! Half the subjects increased in power but others became overcome with rage!” Jake replied upset.

“True, but you are such a good boy, I know it will work on you. Plus, that girl of yours is not interested in you so why not try it? You’ve got nothing to lose!” Calvin said.

“That is not true! Ember loves me, she is just not ready yet, and I respect that,” Jake said defending her.

“Not ready now means not ready ever… If she loved you, she would have said yes! You have nobody!” Calvin exclaimed.

“You’re right…” Jake began dejected, “I will do it, I have nothing to lose,” he said boldly.

“Perfect Jake! You will be the world’s first experimentally enhanced human!” Calvin said as he led Jake to the chair in the ice chamber. Jake sat in the chair as Calvin secured the strap tight around Jake’s arms and legs.

“You have got this Jake! Tomorrow morning you’ll be a hero!” Calvin exclaimed excitedly.

“I will be a hero! Then Ember will love me,” Jake thought to himself as he shut his eyes nervously. The chamber’s doors shut tight. Jake listened to the clinking noise of it locking as he awaited his fate. The room started to become super cold as the chamber began the freezing process. The straps on Jake’s arms and legs inserted a serum that was supposed to help him to be able to survive the cold and harness its’ abilities. “Ahhhh!” He shouted in pain as the serum was injected. Jake sat there shivering as he was completely encased in ice. The night passed and the morning came. Calvin came into the lab to check and see Jake’s progress. He pressed the button on the chamber and watched the doors unlock hearing the clinking noise. He saw Jake completely incased in ice and frozen.

“Oh, my goodness!!! Jake!! Oh no!” Calvin exclaimed as he ran over to Jake and undid the straps. He took Jake off the chair and put him on a warm heated bed with extra blankets and a fireplace next to it. Jake’s hair had turned from Blond to a really white color, just like the snow. The ice had melted off him by now, and he lay there shivering.

“D-d-did it w-w-work?” He stuttered through the shivers.

“Only time will tell,” Calvin replied nervously. After time Jake finally felt fully warm as he sat by the fire drinking a cup of hot chocolate.

“How are you feeling now?” Calvin asked. “A bit better, definitely warmer, just something doesn’t feel normal,” Jake replied as he looked at his hot chocolate cup which was now frozen solid.

“You froze it! My invention is a success!! At last!!” Calvin exclaimed.

“Wow! It worked! I have… powers!” Jake exclaimed excited as the fire went out.

“We have to run some tests now!” Calvin said excited.

“Not now… I feel tired… I am going to head home and rest,” Jake replied suddenly feeling sluggish. “Sure! Rest up, but be back tomorrow!” Calvin replied. Jake went home where he rested. As he slept, he got cold, and his chest began to pain and he woke up startled. He sat up holding his chest and decided to go for a drive. However, when he sat in the car his chest pained even more and he passed out. Ice crystals began to form in his hair as the ice spread to his heart.

Ember had heard about what Jake had done, since Calvin had called her. She rushed over to his house and found him unconscious in his truck. She pried the door open and looked at him. She noticed the ice crystals in his hair, and the color blue took over his normal brown eyes. She shook him till he got up.

“Ember?! What are you doing here?” Jake asked confused and angry. “Jake, I am here because I heard about your experiment. Are you ok?” Ember asked him. “You rejected me, so why do you care about me now!” He exclaimed his hair turning icier.

“Of course I care about you! I love you!” Ember exclaimed. “No, you don’t! Now get out of here! I am done with you!” Jake exclaimed angrily as his face turned a much paler color.

“Fine! I don’t want to see you either then!” Ember said as she stomped away. She went to visit her friend Avery who worked at a different lab, to ask her for advice.

“Avery! Something is up with Jake and I don’t know what it is! Yesterday he proposed and today he dumped me! He-he was part of an experiment and doesn’t seem like his normal self at all,” She sobbed as she sat down on a lab chair.

“It’s ok, everything will work out. That is odd though. I would like to see him so I can run some tests,” Avery said.

“That would be- so,” Ember began as the lab exploded. Somebody’s experiment had gone wrong! Some of the beakers fell spilling their contents all over her. She lay there in shock under the rubble. When the police came and searched the place, they only found one person alive. Ember was believed to be the lone survivor. Nobody knew exactly how she had survived, but one thing was clear, she would never be the same again. The next time she looked in the mirror she would realize that her hair was now orange.

Eleven months passed as Ember figured out, she had fire powers and learned how to use them. She became a Hero named the Fiery Phoenix. During that time Jake had become more and more icy hearted. He had learned to control his powers mostly, (Since they partially controlled him) and became a villain named Frostbite, although he preferred the term thief initially. The colder he got the worse he became. A winter had set in on the whole town in the middle of summer, things were crazy!

“I have to find Jake before things get much colder here! Summer is not supposed to be cold!” Ember thought to herself as she shivered walking through the snow. She searched for him everywhere. She went towards the woods, and when she entered the woods, she hiked for a bit. She came upon a mansion made completely of ice. “Wow! Jake must have built this!” Ember said under her breath. Jake sat in his mansion and began to feel the heat entering.

“Jake… are you here?” Ember asked as her voice echoed in the mansion. Jake began getting nearer to where Ember was, but stayed out of her sight. He built a cage out of ice around her using his powers, and chained her to it. “Jake what are you doing?” Ember asked. “Call me Frostbite, not Jake!” He shouted at her.

“Fine Frostbite, you can call me the Fiery Phoenix then,” Ember said playfully.

“It is not a joke!” He shouted at her.

“Why am I in this prison?” She asked.

CONTINUED:

“You broke my heart and refused my proposal! I loved you! I was ready to spend my life with you, but you said no!” Frostbite said with an icy cold glare.

“I wasn’t ready! Can you blame me? I was young and didn’t want to leave my family yet. I am sorry that I hurt you! I loved you as well!” The Fiery Phoenix said with passion.

“Clearly you didn’t love me enough, but it really is too bad I don’t love you anymore!” Frostbite said as he aimed his hands at her to freeze her.

“Wait!” She exclaimed. “For what?” He asked confused, part of him was softening due to the heat. Just then Ember used her fire powers to melt the chain and cage.

“You don’t want to hurt me,” she said looking into his eyes confidently, standing in front of him.

“Jake, I know some part of you is still good, and that is the part I am trying to reach right now,” Ember said.

“You are wrong!” He said as he shot ice out of his hands at her.

“FINE THEN I am leaving!” Ember exclaimed after she dodged it. From that moment on, whenever Frostbite tried to steal anything, the Fiery Phoenix was there to stop him. They had many battles and arguments after that, but everything changed when a new villain came to town. The villain’s name was the Night Prowler. She could take the hero’s powers with just a touch and mimic them. The Fiery Phoenix had already attempted to fight her several times, but the last time the Night Prowler had managed to grab a hold of her fire powers. Ember had realized that fire against fire would only cause more and more destruction, so the only way to defeat her would be with the help of a certain icy cold villain, the only question was how to get him to help. Ember began walking to Frostbite’s mansion as some thoughts and feelings nagged at her mind.

“He probably won’t even help… He rejected me…  I don’t want to see him… I miss the old him before he changed… before I changed… can fire and ice even work together in the first place?” She stopped at the icy doors of the mansion and stared, wondering if she should knock or leave. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do. Right then a loud banging noise from inside interrupted her thoughts. She opened the door, peeking inside, and saw a broken chair that was made of ice. Frostbite was standing on the second floor with an icy rage in his eyes.

“What’s going on?” Ember asked him. “Nothing that concerns you! I told you never to come back!” He shouted. Ember noticed that a ripped photo of her and Jake was lying on the floor there too.

“You lied,” she began, “You told me you don’t care about me anymore!”

“I don’t care about you anymore, that is why I ripped the photo,” He replied. “Then what happened to the chair?” She asked him.

“I threw it,” He replied as if it was common sense.

“Duh!! I know you threw it, but why?!” Ember asked. “Because I wanted to…” He replied not wanting to elaborate, “Why are you here?” He asked.

“I need your help,” Ember said.

“You need MY help,” he chuckled sarcastically, “and here I thought you said you would never come back here.”

“I don’t want your help, but I need it,” she replied harshly.

“Well, you aren’t going to get it,” he replied as he began to leave the room. Ember grabbed his wrist, “Please I need you Jake,” she said as she gazed in his eyes. As she did this, she saw the brown return into those icy blue eyes. Jake felt heat going through his body, and his heart softened towards her.

“Fine, what do you need my help with?” He asked. She then explained the whole situation with Night Prowler.

“Because you are ice and I am fire, if she imitates one of our powers the other can help stop her, she can only imitate one power at a time so we can defeat her; we just have to work together,” Ember said while realizing she was still holding his wrist.

“Sounds like a plan, the old team is back together, huh…” He replied as he softened even more, losing the icy edge that changed him, as he held her hand in his. The two of them went together into the bustling town. Ember had realized that she was the reason he was softening, and made sure to stay close to him. The two of them had stopped holding hands at this point and were walking towards the place where Ember believed Night Prowler was at.

“Ember, I owe you an apology, I hope you know that I really do love you and always will. Honestly, I was really hurt when you turned down my proposal. I should have just been understanding and given you the time you asked for, I hope we can get over our differences and work things out,” he said smiling at her.

“I forgive you! I should apologize too, when I realized you weren’t yourself, I should have tried to help you,” Ember replied. Jake stepped towards Ember and the two of them kissed. Jake’s hair lost all the ice in it, but stayed white, and the normal tan color returned to his skin. The two of them walked to the eerie building where the Night Prowler lived. When they entered the dark building they heard shuffling noises, and the creaking of the wooden boards. They split up to cover more ground. Ember heard something behind her and turned around, but as she did this Night Crawler knocked her on the head with a baseball bat! Jake heard a noise, and realized that Ember’s footsteps had stopped. He heard shuffling noises approaching, and realized that he was becoming cold again. His skin returned to pale, and the ice was in his hair. His eyes remained brown, but he knew he was in trouble without having Ember around. Night Prowler jumped out and kept using the fire to try to stop Jake, little did she know that her flames were the reason that he was still good. Night Prowler managed to touch Jake; this was not good… Ember regained consciousness in a little jail cell, and realized that that meant that Jake was alone and possibly turning bad. She pulled a hairpin out of her hair and used it to pick the lock. She ran out of the cell and found Jake lying on the floor, completely frozen. She knew that this was not good and she had to help him. Night Prowler had gone to check on the prison, so Ember had enough time to partially melt the ice, but not enough to turn Jake good.

“Frostbite, I know we are not on the best of terms, but we have to work together to defeat Night Prowler!” Fiery Phoenix (Ember) said.

“Your enemy’s enemy is your friend, right? This once we can work together, but never again!” Frostbite replied.

The two of them worked together to fight Night Prowler exchanging ice and heat blows at her. At the end they managed to freeze her mask, forcing her to take it off, and it was Avery!

“Avery?! I thought you died!” Fiery Phoenix exclaimed. “Yes Ember, it is me, I did not die clearly. When the lab exploded, I got powers too.  I realized that since equipment was expensive and I got these powers I could get everything I need by mimicking hero’s powers to steal them,” Avery replied.

“Stealing isn’t right Avery, please stop this,” Ember replied.

“Never!” Avery exclaimed. Frostbite blowed at her which turned her into ice.

“What did you do?!” Ember exclaimed.

“She is our enemy, and totally deserved that,” Frostbite replied.

“Can you fix her?” Ember asked.

“Sure, but that defeats the point,” Frostbite replied. Just then Ember stepped forward and kissed Frostbite which turned him back warm and into regular Jake. Once they got Avery in a prison cell Jake turned her back to normal. Jake and Ember ended up getting back together and eventually got married, and fought crime together. So, to answer Ember’s question from the beginning, can fire and ice work together; definitely!


I stare into the bottom of the glass and contemplate the last swallow. Absentmindedly, I swirl the wet tumbler in lazy circles over the bar. If I drain the glass, the question will be whether to order another or leave. And go where? Yes, unlike some, I do have a home with a roof, a bed, hot and cold running water. And echoes. Echoes of someone to come home to, of cold feet to warm, of comfort food to eat, of secrets, jokes, hugs and laughs shared. Of medication and nausea, of pain and helplessness, of fake smiles and false bravery, of promises that could not be kept, of plans that were never made, of time that ran out. With a sigh, I reach into my pocket and place a twenty on the bar. "G'night." Jake barely looks up from his track sheet, just a nod in acknowledgement. I shrug into my coat and huddle against the biting cold wind that comes up the avenue. About an hour later I call my sister. "Hey. Yeah, I'm good. No, really. I'm okay. Didn't wake you, did I? Good. Thanks for lying. No, I just got in a little while ago. Right, Jakes'. Nah, it was quiet. Just about as quiet as here. So, ... Yeah, I know... Actually. How can you tell when a dog goes into labor?" I hold the phone away from my ear and grin. When was the last time I grinned? "Sh. I think the neighbors heard you. Well, you know that alley behind Jakes?... Yes, the one off Race. Anyway, I thought I heard something... I know. But it sounded like a dog. You know that high-pitched nasal sound?... Exactly! Well, it was. I guess you could call it a small Benji -type. You know, scruffy... Well, sort of brown, dirty. Mostly. No. I think it's bigger than one of those Mexican things. It has one ear that stands up and one that flops over. I guess you could say it's cute. Someone had tied it to the dumpster. Can you believe that? Yeah, of course, I thought about her. God! In the middle of one of her coughing attacks she'd say she wanted one. Shit! Would make me so mad! As if she wasn't dying fast enough.  You know what she'd say, right? Living went too fast and dying took too long... ... Sorry." I cough and swallow. " ... Sorry... Yes, of course, I untied it. I'm still human, sis. Geez! Sorry, you're right. You're right. Sure, it walked right with me. You know that all-night place on the corner here, right? With that old Vietnamese woman? ... Yeah, the grandma. I asked her about flea shampoo. She said, and I quote: "no fleas, babies." I don't know. I guess she saw the belly. Anyway, she sold me two cans of... wait a sec." I walk to the counter and give my sister the name of the dog food. "So, that's okay then? The old lady said, "Good stuff, good stuff." ... Ha. I know, right? Like that time, we tried to buy some dope, remember? We probably paid for oregano or sage, or something... So, the little thing ate half a can... No, no. A spoonful at a time... Right. And I gave it a bath... No, in the dishpan. Mostly just warm water. There isn't much to her, you know. Once all the dirt was gone. Just a big belly. How big? Well, she couldn't get up the stairs. She kept getting stuck... Well, yeah, her legs are short. But it seemed to hurt when she'd hit it. Yes, sis. I carried it upstairs. Wait! ... Oh, man! ... This is awesome! ...." Why am I whispering? I guess she doesn't need any help ... No, it's half out ... Kinda dark and slimy. Sort of like a wet blood sausage. Oof! There it is. Wait! She's eating it! ... Oh. Really? ... Why? Oh. How do they know to do that? And why don't people know that? No, I mean why do women have to have classes and go in hospital and get shots and all that? Sure, right ... Yeah. Hurrah for evolution. No. She's licking it now ... Go little fellow ... Go! Go! ... Go! ... Come on! ... There. He found a nipple. Will she have milk? You think she'll have more? Wait. There's someone at my door. Who would ...? Oh, Hi, sis. Where is she? Under the table. Why did you set her up there? She was still a little damp. Figured she needed the warmth from the radiator. Hey sweetheart ... Right, absolutely. My bad ... You better check, bro. Check what? Reach in there and see if there are any more pups. You want me to ... No way! Okay, we'll just sit here and wait, then. Alright. You want a drink? No, I don't want a drink. I want you to check. You want me to fist a little thing like that? Oh man! One finger would do it. Is that an eye roll? Let me ask you, sis. When you were having Maryanne, did you want someone to stick a finger up your ... Hm? -----. Right. You want that drink now? Yeah, sure. Something bumps my leg . Hey, little one. What can I get you? ... Oh ... Okay Some minutes later. I'm thinking of moving. Ground floor, walk-out. Wadda ya think? Sure. Good idea. Then you can get a Stairmaster. One of those things you hang clothes on? No, thank you. Can you train a dog to use a litter box? No. Bummer. What's she doing? Having babies. Cool. You guys want a puppy? We'll see. Yeah, that's parent talk for no, right? Hm mm. In that case, when are you bringing Maryanne over, huh? Not until you've found homes for these. Coward. Bully! .... How are you, really? I was at Jakes'. What does that tell you, hm? Even he didn't want to talk to me anymore. So, ... So, the Universe put her out there for you. Yeah, right. The Univers has nothing better to do. It saw me sitting on a barstool and said that guy looks like he could use a pup or three. ... It's just ... What? It's just a year too late, you know? Yeah. Maya would have been all over it, I know. She would have dressed it up in cute outfits. Yeah, I can see that. Right ... hm. I cough. Damn! I miss her. Yeah, I know. And you always will. Helpful, sis! And so optimistic. No. Realistic. You know you'll never forget her, and you shouldn't. So, just live with the hole in my life? Hm mm. That hole will be there anyway, right? Don't be afraid to look at it. Plant flowers around it. Make it more palatable. Flowers? Why am I fighting this? Figurative flowers, brother, dear." Another eye roll. " Like this dog. Plant the dog in the hole? Grr! Don't be dense! Think about it. Maybe she didn't come a year too late. Maybe she's here right on time. Maybe you are ready to think about, care about something again. The dog in place of Maya? Could I? Hm, maybe. Sure. Just do me one favor. What? Don't call it Maya. Right. Point taken. How about Mini? Mini? You know, Mini Benji? Cute! Yes. Now she's yours. What do you mean, she's mine? Mild panic. Only mild? Interesting. You named her. Mini is now your pet. You're her human. It's okay to keep on living, brother. Bring the lot to the clinic next week, I'll make sure they get checked over, okay? Now I'm going home and let Marc warm up my toes. Happy New Year. Happy New Year, sis. I stare into the bottom of my glass. Thoughtfully, I swirl the wet tumbler over the tabletop. Under the table, Mini and her two pups are huddled together on Maya's old afghan, snoozing near the radiator. Can I move on? Is that what people do? Wouldn't that be disloyal? Maya would have loved Mini, coughing and gasping for every breath, while hugging it. Do I have anything left to give or did I bury myself along with her? Am I ready to take care of something again? What if I fail? This little dog has been failed enough. Can I give her what she needs? Do I even know what she needs? How will I know? I guess I'll be googling tomorrow. "What is it Mini? Are you a proud mamma? You did a really good job, little girl. Oh, you want another bite? Sure. Here you go. Tomorrow we'll see if we can find a winter coat for you, okay?" Happy new year, Mini. And yeah, maybe happy new year me, too.


On Fridays nights, I-Nina Garcia-open a good book and eat junk food. My parents are usually on date nights, so I have the house all to myself. Sure, maybe it sounds pathetic, but this is how it's always been. It's how I reward myself at the end of a long week. Other kids go to parties, but I've never been a social butterfly. Making small talk with other people has never been my strong suit. This Friday night was like no other. I order pizza from a family-run business in town and open a bag of candy. Since it's August, I put on pajama shorts and a tank top and settled on the couch. Since classic books are rapidly going out of style, I decided to pick up A Tale of Two Cities from the library. "Well," I whisper quietly to myself. "You can't go wrong with a Dickens book." I open the book and start reading. It was the best of times it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom- The doorbell rings loudly, startling me. I frown and get up. The pizza shouldn't have been made so quickly, should it? Slowly, I open the door and freeze. James Abbot stands outside the door, his emerald green eyes wide with fear. In all our time living next door to each other, I've rarely spoken 5 words to James. What could possibly be of my concern, I think grudgingly to myself. "James?" I ask. "Is something wrong?" "Yeah," he chokes out. "I need you to come with me. Please, Nina." "Why?" I scowl. "Because I don't have a car," he explains hurriedly, looking behind him as if to make sure he isn't being followed. "But-" I start. "Please, Nina, I'll never ask you for everything else," he practically begs. I bite my lip as he runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair. "Fine," I sigh, giving in. "Let me get changed." "Can I wait inside?" he questions. I nod, opening the door wider. He stands in the foyer and I go to my room and put jean shorts and a tee-shirt on. "Okay, so where are we going?" I inquire when we're settled in my barely running 2004 Honda Accord. "Just drive," he says, irritated. I bristle. Why is he annoyed? I'm the one driving him around. I comply, starting the car and backing out of the driveway. We sit in awkward silence as I drive down the road. "Are you running from something?" I prod. "Family problems?" He doesn't respond. "I'm stopping the car right now if you don't tell me what's going on." "Were you seriously reading on a Friday night," he smirks. "Don't change the subject," I growl. "You took me away from a pretty good book, you owe me." "Okay, okay," he holds up his hands in mock surrender. "A couple of guys were chasing me out of Sandy Cohen's party." "What did you do?" I laugh. Sandy Cohen's the most popular senior, if you're in with her, you're on top of the social hierarchy for life. "Well, we were playing poker-" he starts nervously. "And you won?" I ask dryly. "Yeah," he says softly. "That's a big no-no for a junior, I guess. A nobody like me winning a poker game against three senior guys." "How did you get invited anyway?" I ask, bemused. "If you're as unpopular as me?" "Well, that was another subject up for debate," he admits. "In a way, I guess you could say I snuck in." "Oh, geez, James," I roll my eyes. "Sandy Cohen's house is like three blocks away, why didn't you go back to your house?" "They weren't far behind," he shrugs. "Thought you were my best bet." "How long am I driving you around?" I ask. "A couple of hours, maybe?" he replies sheepishly. "I'm hoping they'll get too drunk to function." "Maybe," I nod. I make a left. "Well, let's make this night interesting, shall we?" "What do you mean?" "Don't worry about it." "Shouldn't I be the spontaneous one?" "No, I read more books, so I've got a few surprises up my sleeve." "Right, can I change the station?." "Nope." I turn to him and grin, he smiles back. We drive for another five minutes until I park my car at the beach." "Ah, not a bad choice, Garcia," he nods approvingly. "We're just in time for the sunset." He's right, when we step out of the car, the sun is above the ocean. I run onto the beach and sit in the sand. The sky is bursting with pinks, reds, and oranges. There has never been a prettier sight. James sits beside me. I close my eyes, breathing in the salty, sea air and listening to the crashing waves. It's a sound that I could fall asleep to, no matter what. "You look so peaceful," his voice breaks me out of my thoughts. I open my eyes and laugh. "This is the only place where I feel peaceful," I respond. "Yeah?" he raises an eyebrow. "I haven't been here since I was a kid." "No kidding," I smirk. I shiver as it grows colder. "Here," he hands me his hoodie. I look at it uncertainly. "It's washed . And I wore deodorant today, Garcia." I take it and put it on. There's a faint smell of pine and vanilla. It smells like something to come home to. "Thanks, James," I say softly, my voice almost drowned out by the ocean. "Anytime," he says. "You feel relaxed?" "What?" "You said I was relaxed. So....are you?" "In what perspective are you asking?" "Answer the question." He leans back on his hands for a second, staring out at the view. The sun is almost gone. He looks at me for a moment. "Yeah," he nods. "I suppose so." "Good," I respond. "Good," he repeats. We sit there, not speaking. The sun disappears. For the next few hours, we talk about school and where we want to go to college. He tells me his favorite color is orange, and I tell him my favorite food is pizza. "Well," I check my watch. It's nearly 10. I hold my hand out to him. "I think the seniors are probably drunk enough." "Probably," he agrees, placing his hand in mine. And there it is, a spark that makes me want to yank my hand away. I haul him up, and he doesn't let go of my hand. I clear my throat, and he drops my hand quickly. "Come on," I say, starting to my car. He follows behind me. "Thank you," he says once we're inside. I put the key in the ignition and nod. Then, I realize it's dark, and he can't see me. "A-anytime," I stammer, wondering why I'm so nervous. I grip the steering wheel, white-knuckling it. "You alright there, Garcia?" James puts a hand on my shoulder. "Yup," I say, driving us to his house. In no time, I drop him off at his house. "Well, don't get into trouble." "Thanks again, Nina, you're the best," he unbuckles his seatbelt. "Do you want your hoodie back?" I ask, starting to take it off." "Keep it," he says. "It looks better on you than me." He hops out, freezing as his hand reaches to close the door. "What is it?" "Nothing." "Okay, well, goodnight then, James." "Goodnight, madam." "Seriously, go to bed." "It's not even midnight yet." "Don't stall. Goodbye, James." He smiles, shaking his head. His hair flies around in a bunch of different directions. He shuts the door and jogs to the door. Before he steps inside, James Abbot salutes me. I grin and laugh, shaking my head. I park in the driveway and unlock the door to my house. I settle back on the couch and open my book. Sure, I didn't expect tonight to be like this. I didn't expect to spend half of my Friday night with a boy I barely talk to. Yet, there's nothing I would change, except the fact that I didn't get to eat my pizza.


There was silence in his classroom, then, as Jimmy allowed the enormity of what Kay-Kay was suggesting engulf him like a mid-summer Sahara sandstorm.

            Was there a way back? She had suggested as much.             Jimmy didn’t believe in time travel or parallel universes. He also didn’t believe in the physics theory that he had heard from one of the Barton School’s science teachers that all situational possibilities happen simultaneously, but only one actually plays out in our world.             That would mean there was a universe where Jimmy had never met Trina at a townie bar in Prestonville, Illinois, in January 2007, taken her back to his apartment and indulged in a night of brazen and repercussive sin.             A universe where the boy, who had been named Ben, had never been born.             Where he didn’t exist.             That wasn’t reality, though, and Jimmy shook that notion out of his hair.             Ben did exist. Or had anyway, before he decided this life wasn’t worth living.             But he still existed in Jimmy’s mind.             The question begged, though: Had he wronged Trina so many years ago? She had been a willing participant and had begged for his love at the height of passion. Lifetimes exist in a moment.             According to Pops’ fundamental beliefs, sex was a consequence of biology. An action that should only be consummated within the confines of marriage, and only as a means to bring God’s children into this world. It was corporate, nothing more than an exchange of bodily fluids that was best left behind closed doors and obviously outside of polite conversation. He didn’t watch any TV or go to movies that might suggest otherwise, instead diving headlong into his Bible after supper.             Gimme that Word, he’d say.             Jimmy had been a rebel back in January ’07. He had been liberated from home and Pops for a year and a half, free to indulge in what then had been the finer things in life: Leveraging a fake ID at a Prestonville bar called the Brass Rail, downing two Alabama Slammers before his eyes lilted in her direction.             She was attractive in a country-wholesome way that Pops might have approved, as long as she was rooted strongly in her Biblical beliefs.             Their intimacy had happened as if the irresistible force of the winds had met a mountain, an immovable object.             The next morning they exchanged numbers and swore they’d call each other.             Didn’t happen, at least not right away. JIMMY: I wasn’t busy with schoolwork or a part-time job or anything like that. It was all about basketball for me at Southern Illini Junior College in tiny Prestonville. It was January, the conference games were ramping up and even at the JUCO level, winning mattered. But more importantly for a guy like me who had aspirations of transferring to a high-major school as soon as I could after the season ended, stats mattered. So did status, and the only kind of on-court performances that built and maintained status were those that could be talked about within the confines of Internet chat rooms, or this new site college kids used called The Facebook.             Get ’em talking, one high-major coach had told me. You don’t think we coaches are watching those message boards? Every single one of us want the next big thing.

            You play well, we’ll come running. Every high-tier coach’s job is on the line, I don’t give a shit what they say. Alumni, donors, boosters…they all demand a winner. It’s a what-have-you-done-for-me-lately world. Cynical.             But one more thing, Jimmy: You’re the next big thing.             I was averaging north of twenty-five points per game against glorified high school competition, the kind of kids who would either be teaching phy ed at one of Preston County’s six high schools after graduation, or working at the Aldi on the edge of Prestonville in a store management position.

            But I was different. I was the next big thing.             Then I met Trina.

            That night was frigid, below zero, with wisps of snow in the air that I could see under the unmoving street lights. We had just beaten our conference rival by twenty or so, and I had poured in forty-one points, so everybody in town was celebrating, it seemed. This awkward seven-footer from the team nicknamed Bunko and I stepped from the cold into the searing body heat of the Brass Rail and immediately the hoots and hollers went up.             Hey—it’s Big Man On Campus.             Jim-my! Jim-my! Jim-my!             You’re the next big thing, bay-bay!             Where are you going after you get out of this rural hell-hole? Kansas? North Carolina? Maybe even Duke?             One of them, for sure. Then after that, it would be onto the NBA, like Pops had prophesied, so I could use my notoriety to spread God’s word.             “You’re destined to be one of the greats, glory to God,” he had said when I was in high school. “The Lord will use you for his gain, to save many souls from the wrath to come.”             I had flushed a couple of Alabama Slammers—sloe gin, amaretto, Southern Comfort and orange juice—and surveyed my people like a king would his subjects. I realized I would never see them again come spring, when I would transfer to the next stop on my prophesied journey to the NBA. Instead, it would be a different bar, in Durham, North Carolina, maybe, or down the road in Chapel Hill, with more people I’d never interact with once I moved on to the League. Pops was hoping I’d be back in Chicago with the Bulls, or even Milwaukee, which was a poor man’s Chicago but at least reasonably close by.             Bunko said, “Look…at…her.”

            Even above the din I could hear him.             Now, I can’t say Trina was smokin’ beautiful, Playboy beautiful. She wasn’t one of the models I couldn’t wait to meet in the League. She stood maybe five-foot-six, straight brown hair done up with a hair clip, and dressed in blue-collar blue Southern Illini JUCO sweatshirt. I say blue-collar because she didn’t strike me as a farmer’s daughter; I’m guessing her dad worked at one of the three factories in town, one of which manufactured firearms, of all things. She had long fingers, shapely nails and there was something about her dark-rimmed glasses that emphasized her cheekbones and dimples.

            In other words, a rural girl, probably looking to get out.             Trina turned, took one look at me, and raised her arms high in the air, as if I was the conquering hero returning from battle. An empty pitcher indicated she had had a few beers with a trio of friends at a tall round-top.             Keep in mind, I’ve never met this girl.             But I was interested.             “You were awesome tonight!” she said, looping her right arm through my left arm, as a waitress, a girl I knew from one of my classes, brought another pitcher to the table. Somewhere, there was the acrid, telltale sign of somebody smoking. This was about a year before Illinois banned smoking in bars.             “Here,” Trina said, handing me a beer glass with the Brass Rail logo in black lettering. She poured me one out and the weak foam of Milwaukee’s Best spilled over the side.

            I drank it while she told me she didn’t attend Southern Illini, but was thinking about taking classes in something, maybe communications. That night was a blur. I remember later they played some slow country song and we drifted onto the dance floor, both hammered.

            “Let’s go,” I said after the song concluded.             The next thing I know it’s the morning and we’re both naked in my bed back at the apartment, Kobe Bryant looking down sternly at me from a poster on the wall from home that Pops never really did approve. You shall not worship others above the Lord your God, he had said in a way he thought was tongue in cheek.             “Hey babe,” she spoke, emerging from a blissful slumber.             It’s inane now, but I looked at her and said, “S’up?” Then my gaze turned to the clock, which blared the news that I had practice in forty-five minutes, and I had a helluva lot to do, including showering, eating something, getting dressed and, of course, catching the prior night’s college hoops highlights on SportsCenter.             I’m ashamed to say this now, but she had to go. To my coach, early was on time and on time was late. He had gotten on me about showing up on time. And I wasn’t about to let her lay around the apartment while I was at practice, even if she seemed to be a straight-arrow country bumpkin.             “Wait, what?” she said, now fully awake.             “I’ve got practice,” I said.             “Skip it,” she replied with a come-hither look.             No way. Coach would have been hotter than the pistols they made at that factory in town so I told her I’d call her later, with questionable intention of doing so. But that set in motion everything that led up to that day in the classroom with Kay-Kay, my closest confidant at the Barton School—the girls basketball coach. KAY-KAY: I had known a little about Trina after Jimmy had found out that their son had ended his life. At first, Jimmy didn’t buy it; he thought it was some ploy to get him to pay child support after all these years. But there it was, on the website of Preston County’s newspaper…”Cyberbullying a factor in boy’s suicide.”

            At first, Jimmy put up a front, saying it didn’t matter, that was in his past. He had never wanted kids anyway, that he had told Trina that he wanted nothing to do with the boy’s upbringing, that he couldn’t jeopardize his own future. And he shut her out and ultimately the boy, Ben.             But I asked Jimmy: How is it that you didn’t end up at Duke or Kansas? Why East Beach State in Lester, Florida, a town about as big as Prestonville, Illinois?             Turns out, that was his quickest way out of town. He didn’t have time to wait for an offer from one of the blue bloods, or watch them get into a bidding war for his services, a process that could take weeks or even months. In an ideal world, there would have a been a press conference with multiple baseball caps on a covered table in the University Center, cameras rolling, and Jimmy putting on the one of the school he had chosen.             Instead, he took the first bus as far away as he could, almost literally. His dad hated it, and it ultimately caused their estrangement. His dad had him pegged for the NBA.             I often think if I would have known Jimmy back then, I would have really disliked him.             But present day, he was vulnerable, and I could see that the blood was flowing from the eternal needle that Trina had used to prick him. It was as if the boy’s suicide had unleashed him into Jimmy’s brain and he was pounding its walls to get out and tell his story. Jimmy was making mistakes on the sidelines, bonehead, first-year-coach mistakes, including a couple of crucial decisions that led to Barton’s ouster in the state playoffs. That created problems with the school’s administration and regents, who demanded the status of state championships to maintain the constant flow of enrollments. Getting to state was the minimum cut for Jimmy. Me too.             “I don’t know what to do,” Jimmy murmured that day in his classroom, the hallway quiet outside his closed door. Usually at least a couple of his players hung out in his room during his prep period, there to do homework but ultimately talking hoops. Jimmy had put an end to that practice after everything went down with Trina. He needed time to process, whether he realized it or not.             “I really don’t,” he said, staring at an X’s and O’s diagram on his whiteboard drawn in red ink, as if basketball strategy might suggest a way out of his predicament.             I’ve learned in life it’s better to let people come to their own conclusions about a specific course of action.

            “You could do nothing,” I said quietly. “That is a choice.”             “Mm-hmm,” he replied staring into space. “But you don’t agree with that.”             Our words devolved into silence. It was nearly 12:15 p.m. The end-of-period buzzer was about to ring.             “What do you feel about Trina?” I said. “I mean, if she walked into this room right now, how would you react?”             Jimmy thought about this for a moment, and said, “I’d ask her about our kid, what happened. What was he like.” I noticed he didn’t use the boy’s given name.             “That’s not what I asked you,” I replied. “I asked you how you felt about her.”             “I don’t know her. I never really did.”             “Exactly.”             More silence.             “What are you saying?” he said.             “What do you think I’m saying?”             The being inside Jimmy’s head was calmer now, I could tell, due to an injection of non-emotional logic. He took a deep breath and he furrowed his eyebrows.             “She’s not answering her phone or my texts.”             The buzzer sounded, ending the period. The first students began to move about outside the door’s window.             “It’s important to be face to face with some people,” I said, standing up, grabbing my keys off of his desk. I had a class of my own to get to, and it’s always clear that letting students mill around outside of a locked classroom is just inviting shenanigans, even at the buttoned-down Barton School where ties and sport coats were the rule for boys, even Jimmy’s players.             “Are you saying to actually go back there, to Prestonville? And find her?”             He paused, and then added, “For what reason?”             Initially I said nothing, but instead elected to let him work out the strategy while I stepped to the door. He stared at his red dry-erase-board marker.             “Isn’t what you’ll learn there be more valuable than your perceptions here?” was my parting comment.             Then I left. Jimmy’s students—twelve girls, eight boys, including three of his players—entered his classroom with the small talk and chortles and clucking you’d expect from high school juniors and seniors. But those noises gradually ceased as they took their seats, not because it was time for class to commence, but because Jimmy had his back to them, drawing on the white board.             The dry-erase marker made a squeaking noise as he reached high above his head to fashion a rough map of the state of Illinois, a vertically constructed state first discovered by the explorers Marquette and Joliet. In the northeast corner of his rudimentary map, he wrote “Chicago” and crossed an X. At the bottom of the map he wrote “Prestonville” and circled an O.             X’s and O’s. The basis of basketball strategy.             As he drew a forceful ray from the X to the O, a perfectly straight arrow, he spoke to his students without turning.             “Anyone know,” he said, “what the distance is between Chicago and Preston County, Illinois?”             Jimmy could sense his students looking at each other.             This was American history class, not geography.             “I know,” came a voice to Jimmy’s right and a fair distance out, likely the back of the room. It was Kelso, that pint-sized nerd who was his team manager, responsible for handing out cups of water and gathering towels during games.

            “And?”             “It’s about three hundred miles, give or take, according to Google.”             “That’s good, Kelso. Now, how long would it take to drive there?”             Jimmy heard tap-tap-tapping before Kelso responded, “Five hours and twenty-nine minutes, taking I-57.”             Now Jimmy wrote the distance on his map, turned to his class and exhaled deeply.             “Anybody here believe in time travel?”             His students looked at each other with stares as blank as clean sheets.             Nobody replied, so Jimmy turned back to the white board and wrote three letters above the O at the south end of the state.             They spelled, B-E-N.


We are called the children of the Dark for today is a dark day, darker than most. I look down at Grandpa Grav’s sleeping peaceful face. At any moment I expect him to rise from his coffin and ask for his wheelchair. Grandpa Gravesone or Grav as I called him, had been Wheelchair bound since the second great war when a piece of shrapnel snapped his spine. Grandpa died peacefully in the middle of the night. My twin brother Griff grabs my hand for support and comfort. I can see the sadness of my heart reflected in my brother’s eyes. Grandpa was always there for us, Showering us with love and affection. Praising us when we did good and encouraging us to try again when we failed. Grandpa was always the loving one, while Grandma Rose was cold and cruel the exact opposite of grandpa. Everything we did seemed to irritate her, or should I say everything I did. Griff seemed to be her favorite, He never got into any trouble even though he caused a lot of mischief. She was quick to reprimand me or punish me for any slight or assumed slight she saw. And today was no exception.

“Aeron!” she whispered to me, “People are watching. Stop blubbering, you are not a girl. You need to be strong!” I saw the sharp anger in her eyes as she dug her nails into my hand. I guess that mom and great-auntie Vera seeing the rage in Grandma’s eyes or the pained look in mine decided to come over to save me from her wrath. “Ari,” as my Auntie Vera lovingly called me “Do me a favor. Can you please find Jake for me and ask him to come here for a second, please!” “Sure, Auntie, we will go find him and bring him over right away.” “We?” my aunt says as she looks curiously at my mom as Griff and I leave. Auntie Vera turned to speak to Grandma Rose” He is 10 years old now and he should know the truth. Plus, it’s hard for all of us to keep your secret especially on days like this.” “Shhh….” Grandma says looking in my direction, “He’ll hear you! I don’t think He’s ready yet.” Aunt Vera looking angrily at Grandma “You mean, YOU’RE not ready.” After a few minutes of searching for Jake in the dark, crowded funeral parlor, I turn to Griff. "There are too many of Grandpa’s friends and family around who keep stopping us. This place is too big, we will never find Jake this way. Let’s split up and look for Jake. I will go left, and you go right. It’ll be easier and faster.” Griff nodded as he headed right to the lounge and I walked left towards the offices. Not seeing Jake, I head towards the restrooms. The dark wooden shadowy doors offering a few minutes of escape from the stifling sadness of the place. As soon as I walked in, I see Jake’s lanky reflection of the bathroom mirror sadly washing his hands. “Hey, Jake! Your mom asked me to come get you. She needs to talk to you about something.” A little irritated he asks, “Did she tell you what it was about?” “No. She just asked us to go find you,” I respond.

“Us,” he responds, “I only see you.” "Oh yeah, Griff is still looking for you as well." Just as we leave the bathroom, Griff spots us and walks behind us. Mom, Aunt Vera, and Grandma were sitting together talking. Mom seemed grim, and Aunt Vera and Grandma seemed angry. I wonder what happened while I was gone. I know that it has nothing to do with grandpa. “Hey, Mom what’s going on? Why did you send Ari to hunt me down?” asked Jake. “Son, you know that after the burial we are staying at Rosie’s for a few days. So, I just wanted you to spend some time with Ari and not to go far.” said Aunt Vera. “Ok Mom.” said Jake. The funeral and burial were quick and somber. Everyone was ready to leave the cemetery except Grandma Rose. She placed a bouquet of white roses on the grave next to grandpa’s. Whose was it? Tears came down her face as she said a prayer over the mysterious grave. As I was about to walk over to grandma mom grabbed my hand, “Let’s go Ari,” she said “Let your grandma pray alone.” A deep feeling of sadness set upon us all as we left the cemetery, Mom and Auntie Vera tried to counsel Grandma Rosie as Jake, and I just sat in the back of the car in silence. Tears running down our faces, Griff just sat there looking out the car window crying as he twirled a lone white rose in his hands. When we got out of the car, I went to Grandma and gave her a loving hug. Grandma recoiled from my touch as Griff gave her the white rose. Grandma broke down crying.

“How dare you take the rose from the grave,” she yelled at me. “Go!” pushing me away. “Leave me alone!” “Grandma, I didn’t take it, Griff did. He gave it to you to cheer you up. I did not steal it from the grave, I mean it.” “Don’t lie to me!”, she yelled raising her hand to hit me. “Rosie, Stop!” Auntie Vera screamed. “He didn’t take it, we stopped him from going to you at the cemetery. You must have left one fall in the car.” Mom then said, ”Ari, you and Jake are going to sleep in the basement in Dad’s old office. There should be some blankets and sleeping bags in the storage room downstairs. Aunt Vera will be sleeping in your room.” “Mom, What about Griff? Where is he staying?” I asked. Everyone looked at me. “Ari, just go downstairs!” Mom yelled. When grandpa was alive, part of the basement had been converted into an office and the rest was storage. Ari, finding a couple of sleeping bags in among the boxes started to set up a small sleeping area in grandpa Grav’s office. While Griff and Jake rummaged around some boxes for blankets and games. “Ari, who is Griff?” Jake asks, pulling out some blankets from a box. “What do you mean Jake? He is standing next to you. He is my twin brother?” "Ummm, Ari, there is no one here, just you and me…I thought your brother had died in a shooting accident when you were young.” "What do you mean? No, he is right there. Look, he has a book in his hands. Griff, bring that book over here." Jake sees the book floating over to Ari. “Hey, this is Grandma’s old diary” says Ari. Jake lets out a little chuckle  “That is a good trick. I almost believed that the book was levitating by itself. Where are the trick wires, huh?” Ari angrily “I am not lying! Griff is standing right next to you. Stop being silly. Better yet ask him for something and watch him bring it to over to you." “Ok, bring me that flashlight over there.” No sooner had Jake asked for it, the flashlight begins to fly over to Jake’s hand. Jake feels around it and finds no strings attached to it. “Ok, how did you do it? I saw it fly in the air and come to me but I do not see anyone.” “I am not joking with you.” says Ari, “Griff gave it to you." “Ari, stop trying to scare me. Your twin died a long time ago. Next thing you are going to tell me is that grandpa’s ghost is here.” Ari grabs the journal, and angrily sits down in the corner leaning against the back wall. Rummaging through the diary he decides to read the last couple of pages. "Maybe if I read her diary, I can figure out why grandma Rosie hates me so. Plus, it might also calm me down. Hmm these entries are dated 5 years ago." Nov 13 Ari and Griff are in the basement playing Cops and Robbers again. Grav is downstairs in his office. I hope that the kids don’t disturb him as he is working…. Nov 24 I….I can’t believe Griff is dead…. Ari killed him. He killed him. It was accidental, I know. He found Grav’s gun in one of the boxes and was playing cops and robbers with Griff when he pulled the trigger and shot him. The bullet went through his head and through the wooden door in Grav’s office, hitting Grav in the back. Doctors say that he will never walk again. The bullet severed his spinal column. Nov 25 I can’t believe that he is dead. Why God? Why? Why did Griff have to die…. Nov 26 My eldest daughter Trisha has volunteered to take Ari for a couple of days till I can come to grips with this. That is the last entry in the diary. “I can’t believe this" he says looking in shock at Griff laying down next to Jake’s sleeping form. As a couple of letters fall out of the book, Ari opens them and begins to read them. Dec 18th Dear Mom, I still think that this is a bad idea. Ari is your son. You sent him to St Joseph’s psychiatric clinic for a couple of days cause he is in a catatonic state. He still has not responded to any treatment so far. You and the rest of the family pass me off as his mother because you can’t deal with the tragic event. I think you should also go see a shrink to help you deal with this issue. Dec 20th Dear Mom, Ari has come out of his catatonic state. He doesn’t remember anything regarding the accident. He has assumed and believes that I am his mother. The therapist and I have convinced him that he had fallen out of a tree and hit his head. He has been in the hospital all this time healing from the fall. The therapist believes that Ari should not be told until he is old enough to deal with the consequences of his action. Dec 24 Dear Mom, even though it doesn’t make sense to me as to why you want to do this, I will go ahead with your decision for me to adopt Ari, and as discussed I will give up my apartment and move in with you on January 2 to help you take care of Dad. We will tell Ari that I am your daughter and that he is my son - your grandson - instead of me being his sister. I have spoken to the other family members and they have agreed to keep the lie going as long as you want. Please fill out the attached adoption forms. Ari begins to cry as he looks on at the sleeping forms of both Griff and Jake. “This can’t be true…this can’t be true.” In the semi-darkness he notices a dark metallic padlocked door in the back of the basement that he had not seen before. Making sure that he does not wake up Griff and Jake, he quietly grabs a set of old keys that are hanging on a hook in the basement he walks over to the door. Trying each key in succession, he tries to open the door. "Maybe I can find some more info regarding the accident in that room. It has to be locked for a reason." When he opens the door he find himself staring into his own eyes. He finds a record of his birth certificate, Griff's, and his other brother Nathanial who died when he was younger. He comes to realize that he was not a twin, but a triplet. Ari looks at Nathan’s darkened image and hugs his brother. Grandma had left him locked in the room with a slit in the bottom to feed him by just like she had done to him when he was younger. She made it seem as if Nathan had never existed. Waking up Griff, Ari and Nathan go upstairs to pay grandma a visit. She has to answer for what she has done. Jake wakes up as he sees the shadowy image of Ari walking upstairs with two old knives floating behind him.


How appropriate that it was the one song I needed to hear to brighten my day. After a morning from hell, and to make things better in my head, I had to get away from it all and go somewhere, anywhere. With determination and purpose, I strode down the sidewalk on my way to the café only to be stopped in my tracks when this song caught me by surprise coming from a kiosk in the marketplace. "You are my sunshine, My only sunshine, You make me happy, When skies are gray." Stepping into the marketplace, I gathered a fresh, floral bundle of assorted spring beauties and it made me feel alive. Their captivating perfume fragrance gave me pause to enjoy life, right now, at this time. Then tears slid down my cheek. Okay, I am a human being and this was a moment not in the plan book. I'll take it. I am so glad my choice was flowers and not a cheap bottle of whiskey. Going down the rabbit hole was not where I wanted to find myself at this moment. They would not get the best of me and I was determined to be the better person. It will take a minute or two but I knew there was more to who I was than to be someone's door mat. Time to stand up, embrace the moment, and put on my real hat.

It began with a prickly vibe felt at the office and then morphed into more thorns deeply embedded than anyone could handle without proper tools. The work I was doing, apparently, wasn't good enough for some people. Yesterday, they showed me just how much I could not do right by insulting my upbringing, family, school choices, and the list went on. Who were these evil mongers? There was something brewing that I should have seen a while ago, but being the nice person, I let it go. Our staff meeting started with a bright and sunny casual morning, enjoying coffee and random chatter. The gavel came down at a moments notice as it was the tone of the manager who called the meeting to order with his stentorian voice. Were we in a courtroom? We each found a seat of choice. I opted to be as far away from the Gatling gun as I could. The mood changed in short order and we were all stuck in place like glue. The look came to each of us in an icy stare. "I am sure many of you are well aware," it began with a loud ringing sound piercing my ears. The coercive, and oppressive cruel manner in which the manager now spoke to everyone, pushed some over and into his world. And before long, as we all listened to how we were not meeting company goals, more than half of the staff members in the room became his minions. They began pointing fingers, treating others with unkind words reflecting on bad decisions made by those individuals, which more than likely, in their opinion, caused sales to plummet. Hello! Are we not all part of the same team? I wanted to shout this out loud but refrained as that was not my nature. I needed to see how this all would play out. Apparently, when push came to shove, the manager knew all the right buttons to push. And soon enough, my time was here, as I suspected it would be, given the theme of the day.

The words of the manager to me began with, "Didn't I tell you to strictly follow my protocol?" The sneer was so distinct as he continued to add another round of crap, "But you decided to go above your pay grade. Wrong move." And then one by one, the pecking order circled around my head and belittled me into next week. Before it was over, and it was someone else's turn to burn at the stake, I quietly smiled and nodded to not let them get the best of me. With a casual glance around the table, I purposely took note of anyone that did not seem to be part of the game. Someone who sense of purposeful attention, yet one whom I had a feeling, was not going to be dragged into these shenanigans, caught my eye. He was attentive but held his own in the way he sat, subtly moved his hands, with added slight facial expressions. Many years ago, in my youthful days, working the casino card table, my sense of knowing the flip side of someone has never left. He was fairly new to the company and came highly recommended from outside the box, so we were told from a higher echelon group. He caught my eye and discretely gave me a sideways 'no'. I totally got it. Don't fall. Stand your ground quietly until the storm blew over.

"Any questions will be reviewed. Make them worthy of my time or do not send. Do I make myself clear?" The meeting came to an end and each left without looking at one another. We knew now who the manager held on his leash. For me, there was a lot to think about after this session. "What was I doing here?" was number one. Number two was, "Why am I putting up with all of this bull--?" Thank goodness it was lunchtime. I had to walk it off, all of it, the angry vibes that drenched my spirit, and my direction in life. Out the front door I charged and let it slam back on purpose, strode down the sidewalk straight-a-way to my favorite café. As the rumbling noises of doom and gloom kept playing in my head, a wave of a fresh scent suddenly made me look up and pause. Yes! Without hesitation I went into the marketplace. I was like a child in a candy store when the beautiful fragrance and aura of flowers beckoned me to come over. And now here I was with a beautiful bundle of bliss in hand, tears now dried. Determination was my new focus and with renewed energy I stepped back onto the sidewalk towards the café, only to trip and fall into someone next to me, going in the same direction. The flowers flew out of my arms as I fell headfirst towards the concrete. Quickly, they were caught by the person I fell into, and his extended arm stopped my plummet onto the ground.

Both of us were surprised as we knew each other just a few moments ago from the meeting. "I am so sorry!" How could I be so dumb? This was the guy who gave me a gracious look when it was all going south at the 'burn fest'. "I am sorry as well. We should stop meeting like this!" The moment caused both of us to laugh. Dusting myself off, he helped me gather myself together. I thanked him for saving my bundle, aka myself first and my flowers second. We introduced ourselves, since we never formally met at the office. "Hey!" Since this was nearly a planned fiasco, I surprised myself by inviting him to join me for lunch at the café. He agreed and we walked without further trouble on my part since he now acted as my escort, holding my hand, in the event of another drama scene to happen on the playlist.

The two of us chatted as if we had known each other for years. We enjoyed the warm atmosphere and perfect lunch before time was up. I looked at my watch, "We need to get back to the place where only fools rush in." I pondered a moment, paused, and said, "I am not one of those, are you?" His look said it all and we both agreed that there was more to life than to be humiliated beyond reasoning and that game was now over. "I see a new road which may be somewhere that both of us can travel." I was curious as he seemed to sense I was not happy in the corporate world. We got to the door of the building and I hesitated. My calling told me to follow the sun. These lyrics spoke a thousand messages to me so I will follow my dreams and leave the nightmare in the building. The smile I gave to my friend radiated the new and determined person he saw. He added his own vision by telling me, "GO - Don't look back and take this with you." It was a business card of a Sunflower Farm just outside the city. My jaw dropped when I saw the name, You Are My Sunshine. I was shocked, surprised and so happy!

"My family's farm needs people like you." My eyes teared up with this revelation and he only added, "I work the weekends and you're welcome to join me. You won't get lost!"


I was new to town, and she was the first person I saw on the train. She dropped her lip gloss, but I was too distracted on gathering my thoughts and picking up my jaw to help her with it. Her soft brown eyes mesmerized my whole existence, her natural un-contoured nose matched the buttons on my levis button up. Me and her, we just belonged together. It didn’t make sense, but it was the expression I felt over the first person I had seen leading up to a terrible day before that train ride. I sat on a bench after my train ride, thinking about that women who I let get away without mustering up a situation to be noticed by her. I began to wonder if she noticed me, with all the annoying nervous ticks I get during travel, as my mother so kindly has observed and shared during a family intervention. I paced outside the train station with the image of this stranger’s face in my head. I began to create live action manifestations in my mind with solely her beautiful face as reference.

My new place was a few blocks up from the train station and couldn’t decide if I was hungry, or the butterfly’s in my stomach had caused havoc. Regardless, I was on a mission to find beer and pizza. That sounded better than letting the love of my life walk out a Chicago train station in the middle of January with a light sweater whilst it probably stormed outside. In fact, I once drank a whole bottle of tequila before an exam and called my professor an inappropriate word,  and was immediately dropped from that class. It was my last class before graduation, and that didn’t seem as bad as this day.

It was not storming outside during my walk around my new neighborhood, but it was quite windy. I found a pizza shop named Brizarre Pizza by Craig, it worked best because there was a liquor right next door. I quickly moved from Brizarre’s  with an extra large Brooklyn style, alfredo sauce, and pineapple Pizza towards the liquor  store. As I juggled the extra large pizza and my six pack of 805’s I reached into my pocket for my wallet. As I waited for the guy before me to pay with his rad leather jacket, a girl walks out an aisle with her beautiful long hair, being tucked away behind her ear. “Mmm pizza! Smells like alfredo and pineapple.” She commented with the most genuine giggle.  Before I could open my mouth, and pick up the wallet that I dropped when she knew my pizza order, I did the most embarrassing double take that almost cost me my pizza. She followed the young man with the rad leather jacket as he called her, “babe”. She just looked back and skipped over with her hand down as if she was the one who dropped my wallet, she was perfect. And I was an idiot because I let my train station soul mate, walk away--- again.

I was starstruck when I saw her, it only felt more right. I knew that there was going to be a next time for us to meet again. I was distraught that the same women who I fell in love at the train station was the same women who knew my pizza order and she had someone else. I felt betrayed, and usually I was more logical, and less vulnerable. My appetite went away that night, and all I had was an 805 beer to show for a shitty Friday.  I embarked five thought provoking days in bed, with her to blame for my mental exhaustion. I went to that same liquor twice a day and had walks every afternoon asking myself why the hell I was doing the most for this stranger from the train station. My best bud from Los Angeles, Gene, called me to check up on why I hadn’t kept in touch. He was having horrible thoughts that I was taken in the train. Clearly no one wants me  enough to go through those extremes. Gene was a fool. But overall, Gene was an amazing fool because he was on the next flight to Chicago to help me settle down, finally. Thursday came, and so did Gene, with a bottle of tequila. Although I did have a life to get to at eight in the morning, it was a little passed six in the evening and that meant I could entertain the idea of Gene getting twisted. After 8 shots in, we headed to Graftons Pub and Grill for buffalo chicken tenders and fries. It had been a couple months since I last had tequila and my stomach was turning inside out. I had rushed to the restroom to gather myself, meaning I threw up. I felt like an amateur, I was stuck in the restroom for about ten minutes until I remembered that a drunk Gene is still outside probably howling at pedestrians as they walk past him. Walking out, I saw Gene in the distance sitting on the patio outside with the dumbest drunk man smile I have ever seen him do. He then proceeds to eagerly tell me,

“Dan, call me cupid. Call me cupid, CALL ME CUPID RIGHT NOW!!” He shouted as I covered my ear and covered his mouth. “CUPID!” I yelled. Gene proceeded, “When you went to throw up the sixty dollars plus tax tequila bottle, Dan tequila isn’t cheap..—”             “Gene can you plea—”             “Okay Dan, as I sat here waiting for you to come back, I saw this girl come in for pick up and I was convinced that she was for you. And since I’m cupid, and you said it yourself, I stopped her before she left and got you a date! I think. But I have to go with you.” My only response to Gene was laugh and question him no further. He ate his tenders with his eyes clothes and a quarter till 12, we wobbled home. As expected, gene fell asleep on my mattress, legs up on a camping chair. My curiosity wanted to find out if Gene really got a girl’s number for me, so I checked his recent calls. My first instinct was to get the number to cancel our supposed date; unfortunely I saw he had a name saved under “faguelka” and his phone died. I fell asleep with his phone on my hand. It was Friday morning, Gene made me breakfast in mattress, and I waited until he brought up faguelka. I couldn’t wait for the topic to be brought up, so I went for it.

“Gene? So, what happened to that girl and the plans you made for me? Did you get any details down, like her name, the place to meet, her correct number?” Gene set his bacon down on this bagel and took a huge breath as if he was about to school me.             “Listen Dan, we are good. I messaged her this morning to confirm plans and there is this Karaoke place called

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and we are so on for tonight at 7pm, so don’t be late.”             “So her name is faguelka?” I said quietly with a giggle hoping it wasn’t true.             “Dan you idiot, its Gabriela! Literally we played incoherent a thousand times.” It was the best morning for me in my new place, I was so happy Gene came to town. It was 6:15 pm and I was a 20 min train ride away from  Sidekicks

to meet Gene and this girl he found in the middle of the night. As I walked out the train, I see her. It was her again, wearing a light sweater and fluff beanie, and getting away. I had never seen so many people in the train station, just in my way! I called Gene and let him know that I was going to look for my train soulmate. “Listen Dan, she isn’t even here yet just chase your haunting ghost and come by soon if you can’t find her .” I took my eyes away for three mere seconds and I lost her, I paced back and forth for about ten minutes and thought to myself that I will see her again.             I approached

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and began to think I was going crazy, I was dragging my coat on the ground and kicking rocks, defeated. As I walk in the pub I don’t notice Gene, but the hair of a women sitting facing away from the door. I walk slowly towards her until Gene grabs me and pulls me to the side. My heart was racing, and it was going to jump out my body.

“Gene I cant breath.” “Dan, that’s the girl, with the long hair!” Finally, like the squirrel that finally caught his acorn. I went up to her and tapped her shoulder and my finger went numb. She turned so graciously. “Oh my god, you’re alfredo and pizza guy! Hi, I’m Gabriela.” And she went for a hug. As I sat down in disbelief, I looked at Gene as he gave me thumbs up. “Hi Gabriela, I’m Daniel, so nice to finally meet you.” My next task was finding out who was rad guy in the leather jacket.