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libralita · 4 years

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Truths and Roses have Thorns About Them | Interlude (Part 1)

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Summary: The Marchen Tavern draws in many strange characters from all across Angielle and beyond. While it may bring wonder and mystery to those who stop, it does make keeping staff members a challenge. However, Fella Treslyn is up to the task of being the Marchen’s new cook. But is really ready to deal with all the antics it has to offer?

Note: This chapter will show some of the events of the story from the point of view of Klaude.

Klaude had met her by accident. He had overslept that morning and when he went downstairs to go run errands for the Marchen he had run into someone.

“Oh, excuse me.” He would still never get used to this feminine—yet beautiful—voice coming out of his mouth. It would still always surprise him. He quickly righted whoever bumped into him and took in what he saw. A small young woman with red curls and a rustic blue dress.

“My apologies.” The woman said, bowing her head before quickly moving out of Klaude’s grip. So formal and a little stiff. Then he noticed this girl was not really looking at her and she had a cane. A blind girl.

He asked what her name was and introduced himself as Miss Karma. He tried to ease the anxiety away from her but she seemed on guard. “Ophella. But I go by Fella.” He walked with her to the stairs, making sure she got down okay. She seemed to know what he was trying to do. However, they both played their little game.

“An adorable name for an adorable girl. What brings you to the Marchen, Miss Fella?”

“Work.” She said in a flat tone. However, she did turn to him. “Would you help me with something?” Klaude was a gentleman through and through so he agreed. “Would you take me to the kitchen?”

The kitchen? Dinner was not to be served for a while. Regardless, Klaude gently took Fella’s hand and placed it on his arm. Her hand was rougher than to be expected. Perhaps from hard work. She seemed to have a light country accent. Perhaps she worked on a farm before this. He tried to get more information out of her. He was curious if she was actually there for work or if she was cursed.

“I am its new cook.”

“The cook?” The absolute insanity of Delora—this was obviously her idea—to allow a blind girl to be the cook. She could get hurt.

“Yes, I—”

Oh, dear. Klaude had been so wrapped up in thinking about how dangerous this was that he hadn’t been paying attention to where they were going and Fella stumbled into a chair.

Klaude apologized and then a man came to help her the rest of the way to the kitchen. Klaude was pretty sure his name was Dion and he delivered to the Marchen. Klaude did not go out of his way to talk to many people at the Marchen. If it had nothing to do with getting rid of his curse, then he did not have much interest in it. Plus he did not want anyone to get too close to him.

He could not recall Dion ever attempting to flirt—or worse propose—so Klaude did not know him.

Before they parted ways Klaude confirmed that Fella was going to cook tonight. He promised that he would come. “Then I hope you’ll enjoy it and thank you for your help.”

This response made Klaude more interested in the girl. She said it almost like a challenge—daring him to question whether she could cook or not. He found it amusing. He still thought Delora and Parfait had officially lost their minds but it was amusing. She clearly had something to prove.

He found Delora who was talking to Parfait about their plan for Princess Lucette. “What do you think you’re doing?” Klaude asked in a hushed tone.

“What are you referring to, Miss Karma?” Parfait asked.

“That new cook? She’s blind.”

“We are well aware of that.” Parfait chimed in. “But she can cook and she just…”

“I doubt we could actually get rid of her. She seems determined to sneak into the kitchen and start cooking herself.” Delora said. “She’ll only be cooking a special.”

Klaude shook his head. This was absolute madness.

Before Klaude had entered into the dining room of the Marchen, he had been quite annoyed. Garlan and Jurien were pestering him to teach them his sword fighting techniques. He had said yes purely to get them off his back. Now it was getting rather late. He wanted to see what this Fella had to offer.

Klaude was surprised to see so many people filled in the dining room. Often the bar was the most full but today there were barely any seats in the dining room. “Miss Karma, there’s a seat for you,” Annice said, Klaude thanked her and took a seat.

He noticed men looking at him and pointedly ignored them. Annice said there was a special tonight.

“Is that special made by the new cook?” Klaude asked.

“Yes, it’s quite popular.” The sweet girl said.

“Then I will have that and please tell it is for me,” Klaude said and once Annice left he looked around. The Marchen hadn’t been this lively since he arrived. He felt a twinge of guilt for doubting her. The only ones who looked dower were the ones who did not receive the special.

“Everyone.” Delora’s voice went over the crowd and Annice was standing next to her. “I am sorry to say that we are out of the special for tonight.”

Annice and Klaude’s eyes met, she gave him a smile. He took it to mean that had received one. Even though it was mere coincidence, he still felt a little smug that he would be the last one.

In no time at all, Annice came back with a dish. Klaude examined the dish. He was not used to salmon, his own country had more saltwater fish to offer—crab, lobster, cod—but salmon did not disagree with him. He cut it so he would get a piece of vegetable with the fish and delicate place it in his mouth.

Klaude’s eyes widen when flavor exploded his mouth. For a moment he was back in Brugantia, eating one of many of the finest meals that his country had to offer. He dabbed at his mouth, slowly chewing.

He pushed those memories away. No use thinking about them now. However, he still enjoyed this dish. This girl truly was an artist.

That night, while Jurien was on patrol he and Garlan practice swordfight. Garlan was not terrible but he was no match for Klaude.

Garlan said he was going to keep practicing while Klaude headed back to the Marchen. He stopped when heard a feminine voice. “Sir, please leave me alone. The Marchen is closed. Go home.”

Klaude paused for a heartbeat before racing down the path.

“Don’t touch me!” It was Fella. She whirled around and swung her cane at the large man. Making the man cry out.

Klaude was a little impressed but he continued over to them. He grabbed Fella and pressed her to him, attempting to keep her from seeing him. He briefly felt dumb for doing this because…she couldn’t see but you never knew with these bloody curses.

“A-A sword?”

“How observant.” Klaude got a good look at this man. He was sloppy and disgusting. But most of all he was attempting to harm a young woman. “I am not one to show mercy, especially to those who harm damsels in distress. So I’d advise you to leave.”

He watched as the man ran away. Then he looked down at Fella who was still pushed against him. Her small body breathed against him as she hid her face in his chest. Finally, she attempted to squirm of his grip. “Let go of me.” She said.

He kept her there and he felt wrong for doing it. “Please, I don’t you to…” The idiocy of this was hitting him again.

“I said let go.” She began to struggle, hitting Klaude.

He grunted when she smacked his chest. “Wait just a mo—” he lost his grip on her and she moved back. Before he could do anything she stepped on her cane and fell into the grass. Klaude winced.

“Fella!” He moved to try to help her up.

“Just leave me alone.” And…she started crying. He stood there stupidly. He did not know what to do in this situation. He hadn’t experienced a woman flailing about to attempt to leave his arms. Then falling on their backside and crying.

“Fella!”

It was Parfait, he watched as the two women went back into the Marchen. He stood there and waited until Parfait gave the all clear for him to come back inside.

A few days had passed and Klaude found himself spending more time with Fella. She had first asked to come with him to run errands. She was willing to carrying his bags for him without complaining like Waltz did so that was fine.

Klaude had to be careful about what he said to her. He tried to keep the subject away from the "Swordsman". Though he did have to defend himself a little. Though he found the nickname agreeable.

A few days later, Klaude came into the Marchen with Waltz carrying his things. Ah, another hard day of work. He thought to himself.

He entered the Marchen only to hear Delora say, “This amorous waste of space is about as useful as Karma.”

“I’ve returned!” He called his feminine voice and then gave Delora a smile. “Did you miss me?”

“Why am I carrying these?” Waltz complained.

“Because you made me run that errand for you at the toyshop the other day.” He said and then added with a wink. “And because gentlemen carry things for ladies.”

Waltz was not impressed. “I’m going to drop them now.”

Klaude glared at Waltz. “Those boxes contain very important contents!” He then noticed that a man was staring at him. I am pretty sure this is the man Garlan had found last night.

“So this is our new housemate? We have not had the opportunity to meet, I am—”

Suddenly this—this—idiot grabbed his hand.

“My life before this moment has been a depressing monochrome. Now that you have entered my bleak existence I see everything in beautiful, blazing color. And nothing shines more brightly, more vividly, than you.”

With each word, Klaude’s anger began to grow.

“I am Rumpel, my sweet. Let us talk of marriage.”

You, Rumpel, are so very lucky I do not have my sword.

“Answer, my angel. I beg of you.”

“Keep…” Remain calm, Klaude, remember father.

“Say the word and it is done!”

“…your filthy hands off of me!” Klaude hit him over the head. He had not remained calm.

“Ow!” Rumpel complained.

Waltz let out a sigh, he was now standing next to the princess. “Not again.”

You try being constantly flirted with you, little boy. “I would never be interested in the likes of you,” Klaude said as Annice came running over to make sure this loon was okay.

“Go on lass, give him a good beating! Like the one you gave to me!” Klaude grounded his teeth at the idea that men would enjoy him giving them a beating. Absolute perverts.

“My queen, there is no need for violence.”

“What did you call me?” He asked through gritted teeth. Can’t this man take a hint?!

“Please calm down, Rumpel is still recovering!” Annice’s soft, concerned voice said. He should calm down?!

“What’s going on?” Lucette asked.

Waltz quietly answered to her. “Karma is a man. Doesn’t take kindly to being flirted with. Or proposed to.”

“She…” Lucette began and their eyes met. Lucette had been mostly stone-y faced since she arrived but she gave a very confused look. “Is a man?!”

Klaude glared at her. “Not so loud.”

“But your voice, your face!” Rumpel said looking at Klaude. “Your breasts!”

Before Klaude could get another hit in Delora stepped in and gave him a well-deserved hit.

“Ow!”

“That’s what you’re focusing on? Pervert.”

Rumpel stuck his nose up in the air as if he were proud to say this next line. “I worship all aspects of the female form, but my particular favorite has always been—”

Delora gave him another hit.

“Do yourself a favor and shut up.”

Lucette and Klaude met each other’s gazes. “Don’t look at me like that. I have my reasons.” He said defensively.

“Is it because of your curse?”

“…Yes.” Klaude said quietly.

Before he could dwell on that he noticed Fella coming over. “What’s going on?” She asked, and seemed like she was trying not to smile. Klaude was concerned for a moment. Had she heard that he was a man?

“I…” the idiot began. “I am undo—”

Klaude saw him going over to Fella and take her hand. Was this absolute bell-end going to flirt with everything that isn’t nailed down to the floor?!

“This establishment is truly outstanding to have such beautiful women in it.” Klaude watched as the buffoon pressed his disgusting lips to her delicate hand. Fella blinked a few times before recognizing what he had just done. The poor girl looked absolutely paralyzed with embarrassment. “Spices…were you the angel that prepared my brilliant breakfast?”

“…yes?” She squeaked out a response, her face turning absolutely red. She looked like she did not know what to do.

Delora stepped in. “Rumpel, refrain from killing our cook. We’re pretty sure she’s crazy enough to sta—” Delora glanced to the side, meeting Klaude’s eyes and started to laugh. “Oh, Karma, I have never seen you make that face before.”

“I am merely complementing a beautiful young lady.” The joker said. “Surely I cannot be the first to tell you that your extraordinary cooking matches your beauty.”

Fella looked panicked as to what to do and so said. “I mean who’s going to tell the blind girl she’s ugly?”

Then the imbecile stared at her dumbly. “You’re…blind?”

What an idiot! Klaude thought and he could no longer take this horror show any longer. “I cannot believe you didn’t even realize she was blind.”

The dunderhead moved away, probably realizing that he was going to get hit again if he was not careful. “Do not fault me for being oblivious. It only takes one look to fall madly, irretrievably in love.”

“Ah, so love has blinded you.” Both of them laughed. Fella! Don’t encourage him!

“I guess you could say that.” The clown turned back to Fella and chuckled. “But Miss…?”

“Fella.”

“Miss Fella. May I have a look at your—” OH NO YOU DON’T! Klaude hit him on the head. “Ow!”

“Don’t even think about it!” Klaude, without thinking, grabbed Fella’s forearm. The poor girl was still redder than a tomato. “You are not going to look at her anything. Pervert.”

Rumpel glared at him. “You’re one to talk.” However, the dunce did glance at Fella and then back at Klaude. “I think I must leave. My heart will need time to heal. It has been stepped on by too many…women.”

Bonehead. Klaude dragged Fella out of the dining room. It wasn’t until he heard a quiet voice that he would stop. “Um…Miss karma, where are we going?”

Klaude huffed. “That—that buffoon.”

He saw Fella wave a hand in front of her face in an attempt to cool down her cheeks. “I am actually surprised you didn’t take a liking to him.”

Klaude balked at that idea. “Why on earth would I like such a man, Fella?”

“I thought you would like someone who thinks you are beautiful equally as much as you do.” The way she tilted her head, it signified that she was teasing. “Can you let go of me?”

Klaude looked down and realized he was still holding onto Fella. He quickly let go. That jackass. His own stupidity had completely melted his own brain. “My apologies.”

He watched as she moved to lean against the wall of the tavern. Cheeks still flushed. “What type does interest you?”

Interest me? What is she talking about? “Hmm?”

“A man.” Oh. Klaude was glad she could not see his cheek turning a little pink. “What type of man does interest you? If you do not like the flirtatious types then which do you fancy?”

“I just simply do not like when men flirt with any woman they lay their eyes on as if their feelings did not matter,” Klaude said, avoiding the question. “He certainly was making you very uncomfortable. Your face is as red as my hair.”

Klaude cringed at the expression. However, Fella simply seemed to get more flustered at the thought. “You’re making me blush!” Her face was muffled behind her small hands. “That was the first time a man kissed my hand.”

Oh, you adorable girl… He could not help but think. “Is this your first time being flirted with?”

“Yes.”

Klaude forced out a laugh. “Oh, aren’t you adorable.” He teased. Klaude bent down and moved Fella’s hands from her face. He noticed a curl out of place so tucked it back behind her ears. “Then I am sorry that your first experience was so crude.”

Fella went back to working in the kitchen, Klaude found himself sitting down and thinking about what she asked. What type of man does interest you? If you do not like the flirtatious types then which do you fancy? He was not interested in men. While he may dress like a woman he still preferred women to men. However, what type of woman did he fancy? He thought about all the women he had brief relationships with. Ones he threw away once they no longer interested him.

They were beautiful and…was there anything else about them? Could he even remember half of their names? Did he care?

His eyes were drawn to the doorway where he got a brief glimpse of Fella going out to do something.

Klaude was doing his usual rounds, he was not in his Miss Karma disguise so he generally kept to the shadows and alleyways to keep from being noticed. He heard footsteps and was surprised to see Fella hurrying away carrying a bag and another man following after her.

“I already have a job.” Her voice called and then there was the sound of her falling.

Klaude came out of the alleyway and in front of Fella who was still on the ground. He pointed his sword at the man.

“Hey!” The large man cried out. “Where’d you come from?”

“Don’t you know that it is impolite to chase a lady?”

“Hey now, put that thing away!” The man said, backing away as he noticed Klaude’s very deadly weapon. “No need to bring swords into this."

Klaude saw her starting to get up, there was still part of him that was worried she would see him. The idea of her eyes getting that unnatural lustful look made a shiver run down his spine. “Are you okay?” He found himself asking but tried to move away from her line of vision.

“Yeah. Just some scrapes.” She said trying to face him. It was like they were doing a strange dance.

“This is the second time I’ve had to ward off ill-intent men from you.”

“Guess I am an easy target,” Fella said, feeling for her bag on the ground and then picked it up. She still attempted to face his general direction. “Thank you for both times, sir.”

“I will always come to the aid of a damsel.” He said, seriously.

A smile played on her lips. “Are you always so dramatic?”

Dramatic? Try heroic! He did snort. “I am merely attempted to strike fear into those who would harm a lady.”

“I will take that as a yes.”

He could not help but chuckle. She was not trembling or crying like a scared girl. She seemed to let any negative thing roll off her back.

“Can you make it back to the Marchen?” He asked. They could not stay out here for too long.

“Yes…but who are you?” And how do you know me?”

“I do not know you.”

“You knew my name when we first met.” Dammit! He recalled when had rescued her the first time and he had called out her name when she fell. Idiot. “Ah, you made a mistake, huh?”

Well, the jig was up. “Perhaps you are just too smart for your own good, Fella.” He took a step toward her and said in a more serious tone. “You need to take your safety more into consideration.”

Klaude could see by the way her cheeks turned a little red and based on the frown on her face, that was a mistake to say. Did she find it condescending? She bowed her head slightly. Such a formal girl.

Klaude gently moved her chin up with his index finger. She was not a girl to have her head lowered and to be meek. Though I am not unsatisfied with that blush on her face. “Do not take this as me implying that you cannot take care of yourself, Fella. You can, but you need to be more careful.” Once he knew she would keep her head up he moved his finger. He made his voice more cheeky. “But if you need rescuing I cannot deny a lady in distress. I will be there to protect you if needed.”

Klaude was very satisfied when he saw her face start to turn even redder. He briefly thought about that idiot Rumpel. Bell-end. “And if you ever needed someone beaten by a cane, I’ll be there.” Her voice was a little bit shriller from her embarrassment but she still said response with confidence.

Klaude laughed. She was such a silly girl. “Goodnight, my lady.”

“Goodnight, Swordsman.” Is that just my nickname now? Klaude watched her go, she was close enough to the Marchen that he knew she would be safe to get back. He could not help but smile at her back.

Why is Fella sitting with Garlan and Lucette? Klaude found himself asking himself and then shook it away. “Am I missing the fun?” Klaude made the entire table jump in surprise.

Klaude and Garlan met each other’s eyes. “Not you, too.” He complained.

“Is this about Jurien?” Klaude asked making Garlan groan louder.

Lucette frowned at Klaude. “Wait, you knew, too?”

“Of course, I did. It is quite obvious.”

Lucette had a look on her face that she did not find it obvious. The princess looked to Garlan. “Why don’t you just tell her?”

Oh, Lucette. “She is talented and poised,” Garlan said, looking at the table. “I could never be good enough for her.”

“You’ll never win a woman’s heart if you don’t compliment her looks as well, Garlan,” Klaude said, he felt vapid just saying that.

Fella let out a snort. “Ignore her.” Though Klaude gave an offended gasp to play along. “I doubt that Jurien would go for flattery. You are a wonderful man, Garlan.”

“I can see why you wouldn’t tell her.” Lucette chimed in. Lucette!

Garlan looked even glummer. “Because she’s…better than me.”

“No.” Thank goodness you have some common sense, Princess. “Because if you told her and she refused, then it would be difficult afterwards.”

Klaude forced himself not to look at Fella.

Garlan was currently floundering because he accidentally implied that Lucette was stupid. Well, he didn’t really imply, she just took it that way. Klaude smoothed out the conversation enough for Garlan to leave the table.

“Do you think he’ll confess?” Fella asked her quietly. “You have known him longer than either of us.”

Klaude looked at her a moment. “Confessing isn’t easy, Miss Fella. Surely you must realize that the possibility of rejection is a significant deterrent.”

“But if you never ask, you will never get the answer. The stress of worrying stay with you and ruins everything.” Lucette retorted.

Fella thought for a moment, appearing to way both of their opinions. “They have both know each other for years, surely he would know that confessing his feelings won’t change anything in the relationship.”

“The scariest part of a confession is the possibility of rejection.” An imagine flashed into Klaude’s mind, the idea of Fella rejecting him. Thorns pricked his chest. Where had that come from? “Can you imagine loving someone and then finding out they don’t feel the same way about you? Can either of you?”

Something Klaude had said touched a nerve with Lucette. She quickly left the table. Klaude was about to go after her before Fella moved first. Fella then left to go talk to the princess. Klaude found himself watching her go.

Klaude went downstairs and glanced at the sitting room. He saw Fella let her hair down from her two tails. It was getting rather long. He went into the sitting room and said in his feminine voice. “A lovely girl like you should not frown. What’s wrong?”

“My hair is getting too long.”

Fella looked concerned. “Would you like me to give it a try?” Klaude found himself asking. Fella pursed her lips and he was a little offended.

“What? You don’t trust me?”

“I trust you…” Fella said, her voice trailing off. She was teasing him again. “Do I trust you to cut my hair?”

“Miss Fella, why do you wound me so?” He asked. She trusts me… Klaude moved closer to her and gently took one of her curls. It was so soft in Klaude’s hand. “I think I should be able to do it. You want it manageable but still, be able to pull it back when you have to work.”

Fella gave him a funny look. “Do you pay close attention to other people’s hair?” She paused, feeling at her hair, and sighed. “Fine.”

“So you do trust me, Fella.”

“Do you think either of Delora or Parfait have a hair-growing-back spell?”

Klaude was a bit indignant at the idea. He was not some brute. However, he took Fella to his room and sat her at his vanity. He went through his drawers and found a pair of scissors. Then he went behind her and started brushing her cute curls.

Then he began cutting once he found the right length that Fella would want. He asked her what she thought of it.

“Wow, you did an excellent job. Thank you so much, Miss Karma.”

“I am happy to help.” He said moving the cloth from Fella and gently wiping away any stray hairs. He glanced up at the vanity and saw both women in them. Fella was about to get up but he stopped her. “Why don’t I put some makeup on you?”

“Makeup?” Klaude saw a flash of something on her face. Worry? Panic? “I am cooking tonight, won’t it just melt off?”

“I won’t do too much. It won’t drip in the food, I promise.” Klaude to be light hearted but he was curious as to why the idea of putting on makeup was distasteful to her. However, she did not have to get her makeup done if she did not want to. “Do you not want your makeup done?”

Fella shrugged and force a smile. There was something so sad about it. Fella was full of smiles and cheer. Seeing it being force was…heartbreaking. “What’s the point? I won’t see it.”

“Despite what you might think I am not constantly looking at myself in a mirror. Makeup can make you feel good. You do not have to let me do your makeup if you do not wish.”

The girl paused and thought about it before finally raising her face to Klaude. “Okay.” There’s that confidence I know. Klaude could not help but smile. It was a bit distressing to see Fella looking uncertain. He saw her sit up straighter as if trying to challenge him.

That was more like it.

When he instructed her to turn her face she did but there was a thoughtful expression on her face. “I met Swordsman again.”

“You did?” Klaude tried to keep his tone neutral.

“He had to save me once again. He is…very dramatic.” There’s that word again! I am not dramatic. Heroic!

“Is it not expected to be dramatic? He is a dashing hero.” Klaude could not help himself from saying.

Klaude pouted a little when he saw a smile play on her lips like she was about to laugh. “He did know who I was. He tried to deny it but I caught him in a lie.” You truly are too smart for your own good. “He will not tell me who is he.”

“Perhaps he has a reason to keep it a secret.”

“He obviously has a reason otherwise he would just say it.”

Time to change the subject. “Perhaps this is a sign that you should be more careful about leaving the Marchen. This is the second time you needed to be rescued by that man.”

“I am not an invalid, Karma.”

“I know.” Calm. “I know, Fella. While there are wonderful people like that man who is willing to protect you, you also need to worry about your protection.”

Fella let out a sigh as Klaude continued to finish his makeup. He was doing it a bit on autopilot but when he really looked at it, he was almost startled at how beautiful she really was. Makeup was there to enhance beauty and Klaude had done just that.

“There we are. It’s subtle but it makes all the difference.”

Fella had a thoughtful look on her face. Klaude felt a light blush start form on his face at seeing her. I have done an excellent job…clearly.

“Miss Karma, do you think I’m attractive?” Sometimes Fella would really look at someone when she spoke to them. It was surely just a coincidence but at this moment she had and Klaude could not help the sound escaping his mouth. Thank every god known to man this girl is blind. “N-Not like that!” She was waving her hands and blushing. “I mean…like…y’know?”

Klaude felt his face turn pinker at the idea. Remain in character. He forced out a laugh and gently put his hands on Fella’s slim shoulders. He wanted to tease her but could not bring himself to do that. He had to be honest “Do not be so embarrassed, Miss Fella, I understand what you are trying to ask. I am sure that people call you pretty and doll-like. But you are not that. Dolls are lifeless and frail. You are anything but that. You are a vibrant, beautiful young woman. Any person who looks at you can see that.”

Fella bowed her head. “Thank you…I don’t even know why I asked that question but thank you.”

Klaude was about to respond before it felt like dozens of small thorns were piercing his chest. He could help the gasp of pain that escaped his lips. What made it worse was the look of concern that crossed Fella’s face. “Karma! Are you alright?”

Klaude felt Fella’s hand touch his arm wear he clutch his chest. “I’m fine, dear.” He strained to say. “I promise.”

“Are you certain? Should I get Rumpel or Annice?”

Do not speak that man’s name. Klaude push down that thought and pain worsened.

“I promise that I’m fine,” Klaude said and managed to pat Fella’s head. “I think you need to prepare for dinner. I will have to go out tonight.”

“But—”

“Fella, please, I am truly fine. I just wish to be alone.”

Fella bowed to Klaude and then quietly left his room. Once he heard she was gone he gasped in pain again. No. Not again. Never again.

“Wow, this food is better than the palace food,” Jurien said, eating one of Fella’s dishes.

Klaude had managed the pain and was now eating with Jurien and Garlan. The Marchen continued to become busier. Fella truly was gifted. Jurien and Garlan enjoyed the food but Klaude could not help but notice Garlan’s short glances at Jurien.

“Yes.” Klaude agreed, taking a bite of the salmon. “I cannot believe that her food just gets better and better.”

“You two have been getting pretty close, huh?” Garlan asked.

“I suppose you could say that. She accompanies me into town.” Klaude said in a nonchalant way. “She is like a puppy, always following me around.”

“Don’t tell me you make a blind girl carry your bags,” Jurien said, looking annoyed at him but he just gave her an innocent smile.

Garlan cleared his throat. “Y’know Karma…maybe you should tell her.”

Klaude put another piece of fish in his mouth to avoid responding to that.

“Yeah, you can’t keep it secret forever.” Jurien agreed.

“She could be affected by my curse,” Klaude said, dabbing at his lips but he knew that excuse was weak. “And things become messy when women see me.”

Jurien gave him a look. “She’s blind.”

“Karma if she’s your friend she’ll understand.” Garlan pointed out.

Klaude smirked at him. “How ironic coming from you.”

Garlan blushed and Jurien looked confused. “What is that supposed to mean?” He waved her off. Jurien was a smart woman but she would never figure out Garlan’s feelings for her. Every night during their sword practice, Klaude would privately ask Garlan if he had confessed yet. He had not.

And he probably never will. Klaude thought to himself and took a sip of his drink. And I probably will never tell Fella. Perhaps we are both cowards.

“Karma!” Klaude turned to see Garlan. “Three blocks away, some knights are taking Fella to the palace.”

Klaude was surprised, he wanted to ask why they were doing that but he did not want to lose where Fella was. Those knights must have been armored if Garlan was coming to me. Klaude thought the former knight could handle a two on one fight but not when they had armor. Klaude, however, could.

He raced off in the direction of where they went. As Klaude ran he made sure that he had the memory-erasing potion. “Miss, if it makes you feel any better, we’re risking our rank on this as well.”

Found you.

“I don’t know, I suspicious of—” The man cut off when Klaude strode up to them.

“Who goes there!” Sure enough, they were in armor.

“Gentlemen, I ask you to unhand that woman. As a knight, I would be ashamed to be seen treating a lady so terribly.”

“And who are you?”

“Her husband.” Klaude could not even believe himself for saying. What was he thinking? He almost laughed at seeing Fella’s confused expression.

“Unhand her, gentleman,” he said moving on from whatever that was, “or taste my blade.”

“Sir, we were just going to take her to the palace to—”

“I will give you on the count of three.”

One of the knights still held onto Fella but the other readied his sword, going towards Klaude as he counted. He was a man of his sword and it wasn’t until three that he unsheathed his sword and engaged in combat. Klaude defeated the first knight however he hissed when he got a cut on her back of his right hand.

“I yield, sir!” The other knight said once his friend had been defeated.

“…It seemed no matter how this situation turns out you are dishonorable,” Klaude said, feeling a pinch of sympathy for the knight.

“P-please, sir!”

“Don’t harm him! He was only doing his job.” Fella cried out just as Klaude knocked the knight out. I wasn’t going to kill either of them. I know they are merely doing their job. He went up to their knocked out bodies and put the potion in their mouths. “This is becoming a concerning pattern, Swordsman.”

He had to finish administering the potion before Fella asked if he was hurt. He looked at his hand. It had stopped bleeding.

“I got hit on the hand but it is no problem, I promise. But I thank you for the worry, my lady.”

“Then let me help you. Come with to the Marchen. I am so sorry you were hurt because of me.” Fella tugged at his arm and he looked down on her. Suddenly he felt a wave of tiredness. He had been tired a lot recently. It caused him to snap at that idiot Rumpel.

Klaude took her hand with his good hand. “I’ll take you back to the Marchen but I promise you don’t have to worry about me.” He did not want her to worry about him. Really, all he wanted to do was rest. And make sure Fella is safe. This girl really can't stay out of—

“Swordsman?” They were walking together, hand in hand as Klaude’s mind was wandering.

“Sorry, Fella, but I am not in the mood to talk.” He was always so tired lately.

“B-But, Swordsman!”

Klaude frowned, getting annoyed. “Fella, I just said that I am not in the mood to talk. Did you not hear me?”

“We’re being followed!”

Huh? Klaude turned and saw…a bunch of women staring at him. Oh no… Klaude let out a laugh. It sounds quite pathetic to his ears. He did not know how to get out of this situation. They started to move closer to him.

Then Fella tightened her grip on his hand and she started running, pulling him along. He’s startled both by the fact that they are now running together and horrid voices screaming after them. Slinging insults and threats towards Fella. The girl only ran faster.

Klaude was shaken out of his tired daze when they began running. He started leading Fella otherwise they would both end up lost. Or run into something. Klaude found himself going towards the bakery Fella and he shared a cupcake. He enjoyed the sound of the fountain. Plus not many people come around here at this time of night.

“What…on earth…was that?” Fella asked, trying to catch her breath.

Klaude kept quiet, pretending to catching his breath to come up with an excuse. When he looked over at her, he could practically see her mind working. Don’t say I’m cursed. Don’t say I’m cursed. Don’t say I’m—

“You’re cursed.” Dammit. “That’s why those women came after us.”

He chuckled softly but he felt panic rise in his chest. “You really are too smart for your own good.”

“What is your curse?”

Klaude looked at her for a moment. The rational side of his brain told him to come up with a way to change the subject. Don’t get too close to her. Not again. However, he saw that determination. She was not going to let this go.

“I suppose after you saved me, I do owe you this. I will tell you a story, my lady.” Klaude could not recall the last person he told those story to. Perhaps Parfait? The story of how he was a vain prince where he would always try to shirk any responsibility. Then one day his foolishness cost him everything. He watched her face through it all. He remembered seeing the pity on Parfait’s face. Fella just seemed…sad. He did not know if that made him feel better or not.

Fella guessed that his curse was based on Beauty and the Beast and he confirmed it.

“But if you knew who I was, then why did you worry about me seeing you. I cannot see you.”

Klaude cleared his throat, trying to keep the pout out of his voice. “I was not sure if it would or would not work on you. These curses are strange. It does not work on the cursed, fairies, or witches. You are none of those things so I could have not been sure.”

Fella blinked at him and then smirked. “How silly.” Klaude felt his face flushed and made an annoyed sound. Fella giggled but continued to have a thoughtful look on her face. “So…is the way to break the curse for a woman to fall in love with you? Like what the beast had to do in the story?”

Dammit. “I…think it is time for you to go back to the Marchen, Fella.” He stood up quickly.

“Do you live at the Marchen?”

“No.”

Liar.

“Why not?”

“Fella, please, no more questions. I have given you my story—my name—please just let it go.”

Fella pursed her lips. He knew in the back of his mind that she was never going to drop the issue. However, she bowed her head. “Please forgive me for being so rude, Prince Klaude.” Klaude's face must have matched his hair at hearing his name leave her lips. Parfait and Delora rarely used his actual name.

Fella must have noticed that saying his name made him flustered because a smile played on her lips. Stop being so satisfied with getting me flustered! Two can play at that game. He put on his most seductive voice. “First, please just Klaude is fine…or Swordsman, it is a rather endearing nickname.” He raised her face with his finger and continued. “Second, I still must thank you for saving me back there. You could have left me behind and gone on alone. I will be forever grateful.”

Fella blushed. “W-Well you’ve helped me enough times. Besides I don’t think I will get a chance to beat someone with a cane so…”

“I am sure your time will come.”

Fella chuckled softly and then frowned a little. “It truly is a terrible curse, Klaude.”

How surprising… “Hmm? Most people think it is not worth complaining about.”

Fella shook her head. “They were so…” she flinched at the memory of it, “creepy and unnatural.”

“Agreed.” A brief thought about when he was first cursed. He remembered all the strange things those women would do. He remembered the first morning his maid crawled into bed with him. The most prudish of noblewomen would suddenly want to start touching him. One woman came at him with scissors to get a lock of his hair. He shook his head, driving away those memories.

They were heading back to the Marchen together, Klaude made sure to take a route that would keep them out of view. “I am starting to think you won’t listen to me if I tell you to stay out of trouble.”

“I swear I am not doing this on purpose.”

“Even if you were, I cannot deny a beautiful maiden in distress.”

Fella then turned away from him, embarrassed. “Goodnight, Swordsman.”

Goodnight, Fella.

Today was one of Klaude’s bad days. One in which he hated everything. He hated every sound that banged in his ears. He hated the Marchen. He hated his father. He hated the witch that cursed him. I hate myself.

He sat alone and glared at anyone who came near him. He noticed Garlan and Jurien coming over. Hand in hand. He had helped in part to get them together now he just felt bitter. The couple had taken one look at Klaude and took then hint to leave him alone.

And then he saw Fella. However, she did not try to come near him. Instead, she got distracted with Jurien and Garlan being disgusting. He watched their conversation. At Fella teasing them and laughing along. She propped her face up with her hands, she was short enough that her feet did not touch the ground in the tall chair she was sitting in so she swung her legs back and forth. Her nose wrinkled when she smiled as she encouraged their display.

“You can’t see it but Garlan is extremely red.” Their voices began to sound muffled as Klaude felt his anger boil. Shut up.

“Y-You were blushing just as much yesterday when I—”

Shutup. Shutup. Shutup.

“One more word Lan and I swear I’ll punch you!”

I said shut up.

And then a laugh. Fella’s laugh. Thorns piercing his heart. “You two are too cute.”

…not again…

“Could you keep it down over there?” He glared at the table and Fella was startled at hearing him. Her head wiped around, curls bouncing as she looked at him questioningly.

Jurien blushed a little. “Oh, we’re sorry.”

“Is…everything alright?” Fella asked, facing toward Klaude. Don’t look at me like that. He could tell she was trying to keep the annoyance out of her tone.

“I am just fine.”

“Well…” Jurien said, clearing her throat. “Thank you, Fella, and the princess for helping Lan confess. Last night really was great.”

I hate you.

“If you two insisted on being so affectionate, you should get a room.”

“Affectionate?” Both Fella and Jurien said at the same time. He could not tell who looked more ready for a fight Jurien or Fella.

Fella crossed her arms. “Miss Karma, why are you acting like this? Irritation or tiredness is no excuse for rudeness.”

“…Fine. I apologize. Happy?” He stared at Fella and she was not buying this apology. Stop it, Klaude. Strangely the voice in his mind was his father’s. Klaude looked away in shame. I loathe myself. “…I’m sorry.”

The Tavern had gone entirely quiet. Everyone seemed interested in their conversation. Klaude excused himself and left. The last thing he saw was Fella’s arms cross and she looked upset.

He went into his room and immediately took of his disguise. He stumbled over to his vanity, rattling some of the bottles on top. And stared at his reflection. “Calm.” He said. He chased away those evil thoughts. That anger that was not his own. Or was it his? He could not tell anymore. He clenched his teeth when he felt the pain. He did everything he could to stifle the pained cry.

The next few days Klaude stayed his room. He was doing one of two things: lying on his bed, feverish and sweating or staring at his reflection at the rose tattoo that was slowly being engulfed by thorns.

He was laying his bed, sweating out a fever. He raised his hand in the air. He was seeing three of his hands but they were still his.

He heard a knock at the door. “Miss Karma…?”

Leave me alone, idiot girl.

Klaude stumbled out of bed he was about to just go to the door before a small part of him told him to get the potion to disguise his voice. He downed the potion and gagged. He was almost certain he was going to throw it back up before it finally settled in his empty stomach.

Klaude went up to the door and opened it. He then grabbed her and pulled her into his room so no one would see him. “Why do you do this, Fella?” Who is speaking to her…is that me?

“I…I came to speak with you.”

“Why? Because you’ve been doing everything by yourself lately? You come to complain? Or giggle and gossip about that man?” An image of Rumpel flashed through his mind. End him.

“No, I wanted to check on you.”

Idiot girl.

“Fella, can’t you read the mood?” He moved so that his arms were on either side of her, pinning her against the wall. She looked at him in fear and the pain in his chest became worse. Her hands trembled and she crushed something in her hands but she not move. “Why? Why aren’t you struggling and attempting to run away? Or beat me with your cane?”

“You…you aren’t dangerous.”

“Then you know nothing about me!”

What have I become? I hate this. Witch, please. Come and end this. He did everything he could to push back the anger and the pain, bring himself back.

“No, I don’t…but I am your friend and I want to help you. I can’t when you keep secrets.”

“Help me?” The bitterness came back. The anger. But he felt tears burn his eyes. “Secrets are secrets for a reason, Fella. You should know that. If I could speak about them I would. But I can’t. And you trying to poke your nose into my business is only making it harder.”

Klaude’s anger and bitterness was replaced with something worse. The depressing hopelessness. The anger was a shadowy figure, always in the back of his mind ready to pounce when he showed a moment of weakness. But that depression was always wrapped around his neck, threatening to suffocate him. It was an endless blackness that tempted him to jump. To end all this misery.

“Fella, you cannot imagine what this feels like.” He started to lose himself again. An image of a beautiful woman reserving in his mind. “And that woman! I’d thought she was the one to break my curse. Her smile was as bright as the sun…” And then the look of terror when she saw what he really was. “That’s why…never again…but then you ruined everything, Fella. You—”

Fella’s face turned from fear and concern to hot anger as moved away from Klaude’s grasp. Klaude stumbled back. “I am not going to be blamed liked this. If you wish to be alone then enjoy yourself.”

“Fella, wait!” He remembered himself for a moment and reached for her. But she left before he could. He then looked down and saw something red on his arm. He briefly panicked thinking it was blood but it was not the right color. There was also orange and yellow mixed in. He looked to where Fella stood and bent down. He picked up a ruined cardboard box with some…cake in there? He noticed something green it and pulled it out.

A chameleon.

She had bought a cupcake and Klaude had ruined it. Just like he ruined everything.

#cinderella phenomenon #klaude almonte #Karma Cinderella Phenomenon

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coreytravelogue · 4 years

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Vancouver, BC - August 1, 2020

Here we are in August already in a summer that came later here in Vancouver but no less hot and stuffy. I am sitting in a sweat box writing this because I feel like today is as good of a day as any to post something on my travelogue though I am doing anything but.

August has always been a transition month for me for most of my life. As a kid August was often the month me and my parents went on a vacation on whether it was to Disneyland, Newfoundland, Florida, Ottawa or British Columbia. August always meant the end fo summer for me or the end of freedom which meant school was coming soon which often happened during the last day of the month. Fiscal year for businesses end around March, end of the year for most normally is at the end of December but for me year ends always feel like they are at the end of August. Last year I left for Europe at the end of August, 2 years ago I left for Australia, 6 years ago I left for Europe of the first time, 14 years ago I graduated fro Vancouver Film School but it was 15 years ago that I left my hometown of Fort McMurray for to move to Vancouver. It’s this that I wish to talk about today.

The 15th anniversary is on the 8th I believe but I feel as thought today is as good of a day as any to talk about it. Moving away from home is something I am sure most people remember as though it was yesterday, for me it does feel like 15 years, maybe sooner but still a long time ago simply because so much has changed for from that time to now. I am pretty sure I have talked about all of this before but t his si my blog and this blog is more for me than for anyone else.

In terms of moving away from home one could say I was probably late in that regard. I graduated from high school in 2002. During that time I was still undecided as to what I wanted to do with my life. Part of me still wanted to be a pro wrestler but that dream was getting dangerously close to dying as my love for film and video editing was growing. I knew high school life was not over for me though. I graduated easily but not with grades that could get me anywhere, anywhere that I wanted to go anyway. I wanted to go to Nait or Sait to study film there but my English grades were not good enough. So I decided to upgrade my English marks as well as some sciences while I worked.

It makes the most sense to stay at home, so much that it wasn’t even a question really. Fort Mmcurray was very expensive to live. At this point it was all about saving money and preparing for where I was going to go, wherever that would be. By 2003 I improved my English marks and tried applying to Nait and Sait again but my marks were still not good enough for them. I worked at McMurray TV at this time and while I liked working for them the hours were inconsistent and the pay was practically minimum wage. I knew I wouldn’t be able to save enough money to leave working there so in the summer of 2003 I took a second job at the Safeway Gas Bar.

By this time I was losing friends left right and center, they were either moving away, moving on or we would having falling outs with each other. 2003 was a year where I lost most of my friends by the end of it and 2004 wasn’t that much better. In fact 2004 come to think of it was a pretty shitty year for me though the music was great. By this point I was ready and willing to have a fist fight with one of my childhood friends over losing a computer game. I was also burning the candle at both ends for the most part. If I wasn’t working at the gas station dealing with angry Albertans who only wanted to blame me for high gas prices and for whatever shit was bothering them in their lives I was working for peanuts at McMurray TV but at least there I could work my ass off but not have to deal with assholes while listening to my music and what not. I usually did not have days off and if I did they were spent working on AMVs, watching movies or playing video games.

While I have come to at times regret moving to Vancouver the more I think about how I was back in even 2004 I needed to leave Fort McMurray, if I didn’t I probably would have had a nervous breakdown or do something that would have involved me getting fired because I would have inevitably got in a fight with a customer over their bullshit and my lack of being able to take it. With no friends and no love in my life or anyone really AMVs were the only place I could pour myself into, it was my therapy but by the end of 2004 it wasn’t enough. My Alberta anger was getting so bad that I would break my PS2 controller because of how angry I would get at losing to a computer.

I also decided to try one more time at upgrading my English in 2004 and while I improved it Sait and Nait raised the required again making it impossible for me to be accepted again. I came to realize I didn’t have good enough marks to get into a academic film school, a school that cares more about grades that is.

2005 began and at this point it was not uncommon for me to be crying myself to sleep hating myself, everyone and everything. I was begging to any imaginary god that would listen to bring back the only friend I felt I had left which was RJ. Call it a coincidence but the night I wished it I got a call from him telling me he was moving back to Fort Mac for awhile and was looking for a place to stay. Without asking my parents I said yes. From January to May he stayed with us rent free, thankfully my parents never opposed it. In fact I think they were thankful for it. I tried my best to keep my demons from my parents but they knew I had issues, they knew I was having a hard time. They just didn’t know how to help me which would be a common theme for most of my life if not all of my life. My mood went from angry and miserable to calm and happyish.

From January to May of 2005 would be the happiest times of my young life at that point, living with my best friend whom I could hang out with every night provided me with comfort and company I hadn’t had in years. It was not without its red flags, I came to find out my friend had a drinking problem that I would inherit years later. The more I think about it it must not have been that fun for him living at my house. He was a year older than me was back living in a city he hated working at McDonald’s sleeping on his friend’s sofa bed. His plan was always to save up money again and leave and that he did in May, we would not really speak to each other a little over a year. Not because we didn’t want to but....maybe I will get to that later.

I will probably remember the day he left for as long as I live, I can’t remember the exact day in May but I remember it vividly. It was a morning shift, Rj and a Adam who was also one of my friends though not quite as much of one came in to fuel up and leave. Adam came in to say good bye and fuel up while Rj didn’t come to say goodbye. It hurt but it was also a busy day so I had no time to really dwell on it. By the time I got home I was tired. I sat down on my computer chair and noticed that for the first time in months the basement was quiet. For the past five months I got so used to looking to the right of me and noticing RJ either playing video games, sleeping in or just doing something in general. Now there was no one there but a couch finally folded up in place and a empty space where he used to be. I never felt more lonely than I did at that moment at least at that part of my life.

It was then I realized that I needed to leave Fort McMurray or the city was surely going to kill me, not to long after even the smallest things was starting to piss me off again. I decided that I needed to go somewhere that could teach me film. If I could not do it in Alberta maybe British Columbia would be the ticket.

I had been to British Columbia more than a few times in my life but most of the times that I did we all in the early 90s and they were all in the Vernon/Kelowna so my experience in BC was limited and even then outdated.

However there were two options for film schools in Vancouver at that time; Simon Fraser University and Vancouver Film School. After being burned by Nait and Sait so many times I gave up on the thought of a academic film school. VFS was a private school that only really cared if you could pay for it more than how good your marks were. My parents saved a nest egg for me since I was a child for school which they used for this.

I can’t help but feel bad for using that next egg for this as you can tell by now I never got anywhere in my film career, I never even really had one thoug not for the lack of making an attempt. Me and my dad went to a seminar they put up in Edmonton which impressed both of us and made us confident that I could get a good education there. Boy were were hoodwinked.

Look I have spent way too much time harbouring bad vibes for what would happen from August of 2005 to August 2006 but the more I think of it with 15 years of hindsight behind me I set myself up for failure before I even arrived for my first day of film school.

The day I left Fort Mac is another day I remember vividly at least the the part of leaving. I said goodbye to our dogs Kelly and a Prince feeling I would see them during Christmas, we went to the Gas Bar where I worked for the last two years to fuel up and said goodbye to a girl I had a crush on but felt that she was so far out of my league it wasn’t worth trying. I would never forget how nice she used to be to me when I worked there, at that time of my life she was one of the few women around me that did treat me like I was a monster or some creep. When I came back for Christmas I passed by her for the final time and she invited me out to eat and I never went with her. That would be the first of many regrets I would have in the next 10 years involving women.

So we drove to Calgary and spent a night there then headed straight to Salmon Arm where my cousin Pam was to be married. I hadn’t seen Pam since the early 90s so seeing her married felt surreal. However not even 3 hours passing the border we get a call from one of my uncles who’s as taking care of Prince to tell my dad that he lost him and that he was gone.

For as angry and miserable as I was I should say I did have one friend who was always there for me during those dark points and that was my dog Prince. Prince was like the brother I never had, the one person I could cry my eyes to and not feel judged and shamed for doing it in front of. The more I think about it dogs have seen me cry and break down fairly often. I loved Prince, I told my dad that my uncle could not be relied upon to take care of him and this confirmed it. I remember finding out about this and crying all the way to Salmon Arm. From that point and for the next two years I would hate my dad’s guts for not listening to me and I made it known any time I could as any Scorpio would to twist the knife on him and remind him of his fuck up and how much I hated him for it, he knew it and from that point one he never let any family member take care of our dogs while we were gone ever again however it didn’t matter to me because Prince was my dog and I haven’t had a dog of my own ever since. First day in BC and already experienced my first traumatic event, it would not be the last.

My year in film school could only be compared to my own version of going to my own Vietnam War, it was that traumatic for me it would dictate and basically fuck up residuals for the next 9 years ruining my relationships friends, mainly and women possibly interested women all along the way.

I am not going to go into much detail of that year because it was only one year in 15 that I have lived here and I no longer want that part of my life define me but to ignore it would be omitting a important part of my life no matter how bad it was.

I remember the day I arrived Vancouver again.....vividly. I have been through big cities many times as a kid and as a teenager but it was always on vacation. Vancouver was the first city I feel I truly experienced as an adult for the most part on my own. We drove in and in my dad’s tradition of being in big cities we got lost but this time it wasn’t entirely his fault it was a easy mistake to make. We finally made it o the house I would spend the first four years of my life in. You couldn’t have asked for a better place to stay to tell you the truth. It had a amazing view of Playland (right across the highway from it actually), the rent was affordable for the most part. Well it would be very affordable for today’s Vancouver but this was before the city became too expensive to live in. My landlord was a cool guy who never had a problem with me butt hen I can’t imagine I ever really gave him a problem. I was always quiet, paid my rent on time and never caused any serious trouble. The only knock would be that I would use his drum kit whenever I knew he and everyone in the house was gone which wasn’t often.

Once we dropped everything off we drove to downtown via Hasting Street and that is when we saw something that disturbed us, a place I would basically call cracktown, located on the easy side of downtown Vancouver which sadly in the last 15 years has never really changed. I heard of this area before and was warned about it, when I was still in high school I was shown a documentary about drug abuse on the downtown east side which was enough to scare anyone into not wanting to get like that but seeing it up close was unsettling. We stayed at a hotel for the weekend as I did orientation at VFS and me and my mom would explore a good. Portion of downtown Vancouver. An exercise that was good for me because I would be spending a great deal of time in downtown Vancouver for at least half of my time here.

I was hoping Vancouver would be a new start for me, a new beginning where I would make new friends, finally find a girlfriend, lose my virginity and begin a career either as a film maker or at least a video editor. None of that really happened.

Thus is where I feel like I should talk about how I set myself up for failure but this is all in hindsight. The more I think of it now this was all bound to happen and maybe needed to happen for me to grow into who I am not though no perfect much more of a man and emotionally stable than I was then because for all intensive purposes I was emotionally unstable, I was ticking time bomb ready and looking for someone to explode on.

I loved a extremely sheltered life up to this point, I never had to worry about rent, making my own food though I knew how to, I never knew how to talk to girls let alone socialize. In school I always just kept to myself and did my work as hard as I could and hoped for the best. I was never educated in living life away from my parents. Now here I was in a city I knew nothing about, completely alone and without much of a financial safety net (though I knew my parents would come and save if I called but I never did) and desperately lonely.

I never had a girlfriend before, to tell you the truth my plan was never to go after girls in school my plan was as it should have bee. Get an education and get into making movies but I found myself falling in love with a girl named Katherine. My obsession with her basically destroyed any chance I had at making a decent chance at making something of film school because I spent most if not all of it obsessed with her and trying to “win her over”. I can tell. You many traumatic stories but I feel more like a piece of shit about them where as if I spoke of this prior to Europe I would still try to swing it in a way that it was her who hurt me and not myself but at the end of the day I made my life a living hell and I pinned my future happiness on someone who didn’t ask to be put on a pedestal, who didn’t deserve the grief and stress I put on her, someone who really did want to be my friend but me reeking of such a concentrated dose of toxic masculinity and white male privilege would refuse to see her as a friend and only as a possible love interest.

When I look back on that year I could have been so much more productive than I was, that being said I wasn’t very skilled or I should say I don’t think my set of skills would have been appreciated. I feel fact I should have never have went to VFS but then that is hindsight. How would I have known.

It could be so easy for me to say I wish I had stayed in Fort Mac an extra year till I found out about YouTube and learned film making there.then I would have money to o make my own film and the means to do it there but again I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown in Fort McMurray I doubt I would have lasted another year. The fact that when I moved to a Vancouver and happening lay messed up my own life in a Vancouver basically solidifies that my emotional nosedive was inevitable and bound to happen.

If I could have went back in time to talk to 20 year old me I probably would have told him to instead travel but tot ell you the truth 20 year old me had no interest in travel at that time so I doubt a trip to Europe would have been fruitful for him, maybe to Japan but who knows.

August 2005 to August 2006 was a nightmare year for me where I would cling to any kind of hope to keep my alive and it just seemed like everything just wasn’t working out no matter how hard I tried. It was from this year that I also started drinking more and got into hockey. Before this time I had no interest in drinking I mean I did drink and get drunk no and then but if I got drunk it was e other once a month to once every 3 months. As for hockey I could care less about hockey unless I was playing it on the computer.

I got into being a Oilers fan basically out of a bet I made for myself. I remembered being at a bar with Kat and two other strangers. I was depressed as fuck hoping she could save me from it but she couldn’t and I can’t blame her. I feel like shit for forcing her to be responsible for my salvation but I remember her bringing up hockey. She was a always fan, another guy a Habs fan, the other I can’t remember who but another Canadian team. She asked me what team I cheered for. I said the Oilers only because it was the only team I had any sort of care for but to say I was a fan would be seriously stretching it. She said who knows maybe my team will win the Stanley Cup. It was there that I said to myself the chances of them winning the cup was the same chances of getting her to love someone like me. Coincidentally enough that was the year of the Oilers last great cup run so.....yeah all a desperate and emotionally unstable person needed to continue to peruse a woman who only wanted me be my friend. Let’s just say the aftermath of the Oilers losing to the Hurricanes is very comparable to what inevitably happened to me and Kat. A trauma that would stick with me for the next 9 years and come close to killing me on more than one occasion.

So I graduated, I spent that entire fall applying to work any film set I could at the time figuring it would be so easy because for that year I was at film school film sets would basically park guys in front of our door all the time poaching many of us to come and work for a night or two but by the time we graduated the Canadian dollar was going up and the film industry was starting to dry up in Vancouver. I applied everywhere I could but I never got a call from anyone. I had one chance at working on a film set but it was on a “date” or what I thought was a date. I remember walking past the set and seeing the guys I went tos chocolate with there and the looks on their faces was enough o convince me it wasn’t worth going the route they did. One of them had such a look of disappointment on his face the look of “I just spent 30 K just to watch wires.”

I would try to look for work still but I never got anywhere with it, I would say only a quarter of our class got somewhere in their film careers maybe more but definitely not more than half, if anything only a third.

I only have myself to blame for the failure of film career I never had. I wanted to make my own film and decided that I would just save up money in order to do it but by the time I saved up enough money to where I could have probably done it the love and desire of making a movie is 2014 was more or less gone.

When it was obvious that I could not find film work I worked at HMV for two Christmas’s and I started working at Petcetera and the Old Spaghetti Factory at the beginning of 2007. I again was burning the candle at both ends, desperate to make a buck to make my movie all while I was still clinically depressed and woefully lonely. I only had one friend who was Tyler who was the first person I truly me in Vancouver and is someone who is still my friend to this day though we rarely hang out anymore. If I did not have him in my life to at least just be there I would have probably been dead by now and that is the truth.

2007 was another very rough year in my life. I was working two jobs a day working basically over 60 hours a week from February to August (again), I lost the other dog that was apart of a good portion of my life in Kelly and I was continuing to basically fail finding a girlfriend dogging women who only wanted to me and giving up too soon one women who could have went out with me. I quit both of my jobs in order to work on my short film only to find out that all the money I spent would have been a drop in the bucket and that I needed more money that what I had, 3 times more. Plus everyone I asked to help me either said no or just never returned my calls. Within one month I went back to work at the pet store, worked HMV for another Christmas only to quit the pet store at the end of the year and not be hired by back by the other. It was also by the end of the 2007 that I made my first true suicide attempt, an attempt that I am already starting to feel the effects of now.

I know what you are thinking, my god Corey why didn’t you just leave Vancouver if all it was doing was making you miserable and why are you tell me such a sad fucking sorry, surely there is a happy ending to all this? Very good questions.

Why did I not leave Vancouver? Well the question then is the same as it is now. Where the fuck should I go? You have to understand BC was and still is biggest city for film in Canada. I could have went to Ontario but that would cost money that I didn’t entirely have and I wasn’t entirely sold on leaving. I didn’t want to go back to Alberta because I felt like if I went back it would have been admitting failure also the film industry was and is barely there. Then much like now the only jobs in Alberta are either in the oil industry or to serve the oil industry. I could have decided to just work abroad and you know what they would have and should have been a good idea. I would have been more open to this idea by this time but again I didn’t have that much money and the travel bug had no bite me yet.

Is there a happy ending to all this? Well I am alive now aren’t I and I seem to at least have my head on straight despite how much I enjoy referring tot he past. Well I guess I am one of those people who feels to rule the future you must conquer your past, I feel as though I conquered it for the most part it only took all my 20s to do it.

With that being said my life would start to slightly look up. Thanks to Tyler I was able to get a job at Electrionic Arts in 2008 a job that would provide me with financial stability for the next 6 years. It was not without its own forms of stress but for all intensive purposes I can’t really say much bad about EA; though they paid me peanuts I got good dental and health benefits, I was able to take December’s off to be with my parents, save money like crazy (though I lived on peanut butter and crackers for most of it in order to do so) I had more stability. I just stayed there for too long and that is more on me than them.

In 2009 I had to leave my place of residence because my landlord was ready to start a family and was tired of having room mates though honestly up to this point is as pretty lucky in the room mate department. I moved a few blocks up the road and lived with a older lady and a German man who would not stop bragging about German beer. I was a cider guy at this point and had no interest in beer in general much less German beer (yet).

By this time my alcohol consumption had steady increased to where it is sort of today where I would basically get drunke very weekend but from 2008-11 was probably the most calm time of my life. I had become friends with the landlord and we would have movie nights every Friday enjoying pizza, cider and art movies. I was still failing in my love life at this time but it wasn’t so bad at this time as I was all about writing, watching movies and saving money. I was still reeking of toxic white male priviledge and my land lord tried to get me out of it as she was worried about me however she had her own stresses in her life which led her to move out of the house. By early 2011 I either had the choice of becoming the land lord where the only tenants was a ex convinct and the other was a asshole who always tried to take advance of previous landlord by dodging rent whenever he could. I had enough stress in my life and decided to get my own appartment for the first time in my life near Metrotown.

2011-13 I lived alone for the first time and while it was painfully lonely and horrifically expensive I enjoyed the privacy. Since I no longer had someone to hang out with on Friday nights, online dating was a failure and nothing was changing I decided to go out every Friday night and try to change my luck. While I have many stories to tell long story short I failed all of the time. I also decided to try and upgrade my high school diploma again focusing on sciences. It was around this time that I had beer that I liked for the very first time. It was Okanagan Spring’s Summer Wiezen. I started having it in my head to maybe be a brewmaster. I didn’t care about beer that much but the industry was starting to boom and I was starting to like what was coming out of it but I was still a cider guy for the most part.

In 2011 was when I also made my second suicide attempt and failed. It was embarrassing and slightly eye opening, I didn’t learn much from it but I was starting o learn that things needed to change because the third suicide attempt may be the last one.

Living even in a studio apartment was way too expensive for myself and I decided to move into where I live right now in 2013. It was dirt cheap and run down but it provided me a perfect back drop to save a considerable amount of money o make my film or do something.

At around age 23 I made a promised to myself that I had to accomplish something before I turned 30. At age 28 in 2013 it was looming but I was nowhere closer to doing anything or accomplishing anything that I set out to do.

RJ was turning 30 and like his 25th I went to see him and be there for him though he never was there for me for the last 10 years. Our friendship slowly dissolved after this due to me pursuing his girlfriend because at that point I was still desperate and I felt that our friendship was too one sided and he didn’t care about me so why should I with him. This wound up being another thing that inevitably blew in my face but at least I gain a friend out of it whom is still my friend to this day despite all of the drama.

2014 came and I was now 29 still with nothing to show for it. Lonely and no where closer to beating my demons as I had tried every form of therapy I could. After a trip to Seattle a few years back I became more interested in traveling now than I once was. It was either make a film or travel to Europe and I decided on the later. You know the story of that already.

I think at this point we. Have nearly come full circle as from 2014 and on I have documented my life here. Europe was extremely impactful to me in was that you know yet can’t fathom but I needed time for it to sink in with me. By the time I came back I felt rejuvenated and thought I could get on a saddle now only to fall flat on my ass more than a few times before 2014 ended. I had turned 30 and now I was unemployed, still loveless and much more poorer but at least I had done something no other from my family had done before as of yet.

It was would be in February of 2015 when I had my last true breakdown where the light finally came on. From August 2015 to August 2017 I went back to o school, prior to then I finally met a girl who actually loves me and by the time I graduated I already had a job that was paying twice the amount of was being paid at EA.

In 2018 and 2019 I was travel more than I had for most of my 20s and more happier than I had ever been all things considering.

Now here in 2020 I guess I am at another cross roads. While my living quarters has allowed me to save a considerable amount of money it is not a place I should live in anymore, it is a nearly toxic environment with a shit head room mate who was her before me. The city itself is too expensive to live in and I can’t afford to live in it. I am now sort of being forced out unless I want to make sacrificed in my life to stay her, sacrifices I do not think are worth it.

At this point I have very few if any friends, all the friends I have made have either moved away or moved on (sound familiar). Living here now causes a lot of needless stress. The problem is where the hell do I go from here?

It is funny though for much of the 15 years I have lived here I have hated Vancouver and the Albertan in me tried to find anyway he could to place blame on this city any way I could for all the problems in my life even though at the end of the day I was the harbinger of my own sadness all along. Now at the 15 year mark I actually love being in Vancouver. Is it perfect? Fuck no it is expensive, drives and cyclists are idiots, it barely snows and when it does this city refuses to handle it.

That being said the weather is very mild, people are not angry here or look to take their anger out on you here, the politics lean to the left here the most and the beer is the best in Canada for the most part. Maybe it is Stockholm Syndrome maybe it isn’t but I am used to being here and I can’t entirely see myself being anywhere else right now. For awhile I thought Alberta was a option now that I have career to build but with its politics and the province’s penchant to fuck itself up I am wary of going back there. So where else do I go?

I was born and raised in Alberta but I basically was a baby, child and teen in Fort McMurray, I grew up there. However it was in Vancouver where I became the man I am today. Before I came here I hated myself beyond measure, now while I have have money of self hatred I don’t hate myself entirely anymore. I see someone who was deeply flawed and caused harm to other but mainly to himself in his pursuit of his own truths that never made any sense but I also see someone who learned from his fuck ups and no longer allows them to define him. It is part of the portrait that is me but it is not all of me and. I refuse to let the next 15 years be defined by it either. I will still make mistakes and have many regrets, I can only hope at age 50 I will be a better man then than I am at 35.

In the next couple of weeks I will talk about Australia and Europe. I ain’t ravelling this year due to COVID obviously. It makes me feel so lucky that I got to go to those places to which talking about it feel is the closest I can get to actually being there again anyway.

Anyways this has been the last 15 years in my life. There are many stories that I have not told but that would be a novel’s worth of stories and I feel I have probably tired you out by now I know I am. So here is to the next 15 years wherever I may be at that point. Shazbot nanu nanu.

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christianitywithouttheinsanity · 7 years

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Ruth 3-4; Psalm 37; Acts 4

Discuss in the comments section.

The following text is from the Common English Bible. Occasionally we will rotate the translations just to have some variety.

Ruth 3-4

3:1 Then Naomi her mother-in-law said to her, “My daughter, should I not seek rest for you, that it may be well with you? 2 Is not Boaz our relative, with whose young women you were? See, he is winnowing barley tonight at the threshing floor. 3 Wash therefore and anoint yourself, and put on your cloak and go down to the threshing floor, but do not make yourself known to the man until he has finished eating and drinking. 4 But when he lies down, observe the place where he lies. Then go and uncover his feet and lie down, and he will tell you what to do.” 5 And she replied, “All that you say I will do.”

6 So she went down to the threshing floor and did just as her mother-in-law had commanded her. 7 And when Boaz had eaten and drunk, and his heart was merry, he went to lie down at the end of the heap of grain. Then she came softly and uncovered his feet and lay down. 8 At midnight the man was startled and turned over, and behold, a woman lay at his feet! 9 He said, “Who are you?” And she answered, “I am Ruth, your servant. Spread your wings over your servant, for you are a redeemer.” 10 And he said, “May you be blessed by the Lord, my daughter. You have made this last kindness greater than the first in that you have not gone after young men, whether poor or rich. 11 And now, my daughter, do not fear. I will do for you all that you ask, for all my fellow townsmen know that you are a worthy woman. 12 And now it is true that I am a redeemer. Yet there is a redeemer nearer than I. 13 Remain tonight, and in the morning, if he will redeem you, good; let him do it. But if he is not willing to redeem you, then, as the Lord lives, I will redeem you. Lie down until the morning.”

14 So she lay at his feet until the morning, but arose before one could recognize another. And he said, “Let it not be known that the woman came to the threshing floor.” 15 And he said, “Bring the garment you are wearing and hold it out.” So she held it, and he measured out six measures of barley and put it on her. Then she went into the city. 16 And when she came to her mother-in-law, she said, “How did you fare, my daughter?” Then she told her all that the man had done for her, 17 saying, “These six measures of barley he gave to me, for he said to me, ‘You must not go back empty-handed to your mother-in-law.’” 18 She replied, “Wait, my daughter, until you learn how the matter turns out, for the man will not rest but will settle the matter today.”

4:1 Now Boaz had gone up to the gate and sat down there. And behold, the redeemer, of whom Boaz had spoken, came by. So Boaz said, “Turn aside, friend; sit down here.” And he turned aside and sat down. 2 And he took ten men of the elders of the city and said, “Sit down here.” So they sat down. 3 Then he said to the redeemer, “Naomi, who has come back from the country of Moab, is selling the parcel of land that belonged to our relative Elimelech. 4 So I thought I would tell you of it and say, ‘Buy it in the presence of those sitting here and in the presence of the elders of my people.’ If you will redeem it, redeem it. But if you will not, tell me, that I may know, for there is no one besides you to redeem it, and I come after you.” And he said, “I will redeem it.” 5 Then Boaz said, “The day you buy the field from the hand of Naomi, you also acquire Ruth the Moabite, the widow of the dead, in order to perpetuate the name of the dead in his inheritance.” 6 Then the redeemer said, “I cannot redeem it for myself, lest I impair my own inheritance. Take my right of redemption yourself, for I cannot redeem it.”

7 Now this was the custom in former times in Israel concerning redeeming and exchanging: to confirm a transaction, the one drew off his sandal and gave it to the other, and this was the manner of attesting in Israel. 8 So when the redeemer said to Boaz, “Buy it for yourself,” he drew off his sandal. 9 Then Boaz said to the elders and all the people, “You are witnesses this day that I have bought from the hand of Naomi all that belonged to Elimelech and all that belonged to Chilion and to Mahlon. 10 Also Ruth the Moabite, the widow of Mahlon, I have bought to be my wife, to perpetuate the name of the dead in his inheritance, that the name of the dead may not be cut off from among his brothers and from the gate of his native place. You are witnesses this day.” 11 Then all the people who were at the gate and the elders said, “We are witnesses. May the Lord make the woman, who is coming into your house, like Rachel and Leah, who together built up the house of Israel. May you act worthily in Ephrathah and be renowned in Bethlehem, 12 and may your house be like the house of Perez, whom Tamar bore to Judah, because of the offspring that the Lord will give you by this young woman.”

13 So Boaz took Ruth, and she became his wife. And he went in to her, and the Lord gave her conception, and she bore a son. 14 Then the women said to Naomi, “Blessed be the Lord, who has not left you this day without a redeemer, and may his name be renowned in Israel! 15 He shall be to you a restorer of life and a nourisher of your old age, for your daughter-in-law who loves you, who is more to you than seven sons, has given birth to him.” 16 Then Naomi took the child and laid him on her lap and became his nurse. 17 And the women of the neighborhood gave him a name, saying, “A son has been born to Naomi.” They named him Obed. He was the father of Jesse, the father of David.

18 Now these are the generations of Perez: Perez fathered Hezron, 19 Hezron fathered Ram, Ram fathered Amminadab, 20 Amminadab fathered Nahshon, Nahshon fathered Salmon, 21 Salmon fathered Boaz, Boaz fathered Obed, 22 Obed fathered Jesse, and Jesse fathered David. (ESV)

Psalm 37

Of David.

37:1 Fret not yourself because of evildoers; be not envious of wrongdoers! 2 For they will soon fade like the grass and wither like the green herb.

3 Trust in the Lord, and do good; dwell in the land and befriend faithfulness. 4 Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.

5 Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him, and he will act. 6 He will bring forth your righteousness as the light, and your justice as the noonday.

7 Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him; fret not yourself over the one who prospers in his way, over the man who carries out evil devices!

8 Refrain from anger, and forsake wrath! Fret not yourself; it tends only to evil. 9 For the evildoers shall be cut off, but those who wait for the Lord shall inherit the land.

10 In just a little while, the wicked will be no more; though you look carefully at his place, he will not be there. 11 But the meek shall inherit the land and delight themselves in abundant peace.

12 The wicked plots against the righteous and gnashes his teeth at him, 13 but the Lord laughs at the wicked, for he sees that his day is coming.

14 The wicked draw the sword and bend their bows to bring down the poor and needy, to slay those whose way is upright; 15 their sword shall enter their own heart, and their bows shall be broken.

16 Better is the little that the righteous has than the abundance of many wicked. 17 For the arms of the wicked shall be broken, but the Lord upholds the righteous.

18 The Lord knows the days of the blameless, and their heritage will remain forever; 19 they are not put to shame in evil times; in the days of famine they have abundance.

20 But the wicked will perish; the enemies of the Lord are like the glory of the pastures; they vanish—like smoke they vanish away.

21 The wicked borrows but does not pay back, but the righteous is generous and gives; 22 for those blessed by the Lord shall inherit the land, but those cursed by him shall be cut off.

23 The steps of a man are established by the Lord, when he delights in his way; 24 though he fall, he shall not be cast headlong, for the Lord upholds his hand.

25 I have been young, and now am old, yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken or his children begging for bread. 26 He is ever lending generously, and his children become a blessing.

27 Turn away from evil and do good; so shall you dwell forever. 28 For the Lord loves justice; he will not forsake his saints. They are preserved forever, but the children of the wicked shall be cut off. 29 The righteous shall inherit the land and dwell upon it forever.

30 The mouth of the righteous utters wisdom, and his tongue speaks justice. 31 The law of his God is in his heart; his steps do not slip.

32 The wicked watches for the righteous and seeks to put him to death. 33 The Lord will not abandon him to his power or let him be condemned when he is brought to trial.

34 Wait for the Lord and keep his way, and he will exalt you to inherit the land; you will look on when the wicked are cut off.

35 I have seen a wicked, ruthless man, spreading himself like a green laurel tree. 36 But he passed away, and behold, he was no more; though I sought him, he could not be found.

37 Mark the blameless and behold the upright, for there is a future for the man of peace. 38 But transgressors shall be altogether destroyed; the future of the wicked shall be cut off.

39 The salvation of the righteous is from the Lord; he is their stronghold in the time of trouble. 40 The Lord helps them and delivers them; he delivers them from the wicked and saves them, because they take refuge in him. (ESV)

Acts 4

4:1 And as they were speaking to the people, the priests and the captain of the temple and the Sadducees came upon them, 2 greatly annoyed because they were teaching the people and proclaiming in Jesus the resurrection from the dead. 3 And they arrested them and put them in custody until the next day, for it was already evening. 4 But many of those who had heard the word believed, and the number of the men came to about five thousand.

5 On the next day their rulers and elders and scribes gathered together in Jerusalem, 6 with Annas the high priest and Caiaphas and John and Alexander, and all who were of the high-priestly family. 7 And when they had set them in the midst, they inquired, “By what power or by what name did you do this?” 8 Then Peter, filled with the Holy Spirit, said to them, “Rulers of the people and elders, 9 if we are being examined today concerning a good deed done to a crippled man, by what means this man has been healed, 10 let it be known to all of you and to all the people of Israel that by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom you crucified, whom God raised from the dead—by him this man is standing before you well. 11 This Jesus is the stone that was rejected by you, the builders, which has become the cornerstone. 12 And there is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved.”

13 Now when they saw the boldness of Peter and John, and perceived that they were uneducated, common men, they were astonished. And they recognized that they had been with Jesus. 14 But seeing the man who was healed standing beside them, they had nothing to say in opposition. 15 But when they had commanded them to leave the council, they conferred with one another, 16 saying, “What shall we do with these men? For that a notable sign has been performed through them is evident to all the inhabitants of Jerusalem, and we cannot deny it. 17 But in order that it may spread no further among the people, let us warn them to speak no more to anyone in this name.” 18 So they called them and charged them not to speak or teach at all in the name of Jesus. 19 But Peter and John answered them, “Whether it is right in the sight of God to listen to you rather than to God, you must judge, 20 for we cannot but speak of what we have seen and heard.” 21 And when they had further threatened them, they let them go, finding no way to punish them, because of the people, for all were praising God for what had happened. 22 For the man on whom this sign of healing was performed was more than forty years old.

23 When they were released, they went to their friends and reported what the chief priests and the elders had said to them. 24 And when they heard it, they lifted their voices together to God and said, “Sovereign Lord, who made the heaven and the earth and the sea and everything in them, 25 who through the mouth of our father David, your servant, said by the Holy Spirit,

“‘Why did the Gentiles rage, and the peoples plot in vain? 26 The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers were gathered together, against the Lord and against his Anointed’—

27 for truly in this city there were gathered together against your holy servant Jesus, whom you anointed, both Herod and Pontius Pilate, along with the Gentiles and the peoples of Israel, 28 to do whatever your hand and your plan had predestined to take place. 29 And now, Lord, look upon their threats and grant to your servants to continue to speak your word with all boldness, 30 while you stretch out your hand to heal, and signs and wonders are performed through the name of your holy servant Jesus.” 31 And when they had prayed, the place in which they were gathered together was shaken, and they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and continued to speak the word of God with boldness.

32 Now the full number of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one said that any of the things that belonged to him was his own, but they had everything in common. 33 And with great power the apostles were giving their testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great grace was upon them all. 34 There was not a needy person among them, for as many as were owners of lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold 35 and laid it at the apostles' feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need. 36 Thus Joseph, who was also called by the apostles Barnabas (which means son of encouragement), a Levite, a native of Cyprus, 37 sold a field that belonged to him and brought the money and laid it at the apostles' feet. (ESV)

The reading plan I’ve chosen is from Bible Class Material and it’s a 5 day plan, with weekend days to catch up or get ahead or just take a break!

http://ift.tt/2hfNLzf

#IFTTT #WordPress

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jay-watt-blog · 7 years

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Meditations on a Year: Greg’s Bagels In the winter the windows fog from warmth like Norman Rockwell backgrounds, patchy like clouds in a soft spring afternoon. The heat hides a new job, a paycheck, and a key to daily necessities I hide under long sleeved shirts. There is also a man hiding in there, behind the fog and smell of early morning December and cigarette smoke. Shirtless, pale with little black and gray hairs sprouting out of his chest, back, neck, chin and cheeks. Even his heels show the curled hairs where his slacks are rolled up revealing a small slip of pale white and black and gray. His face is always open, always wanting for conversation, restless in his wide eyes and near constant smile hidden beneath his curly salt and pepper beard. All the anxieties of a new job and new people and secrets to shelter from sight are relieved in the petty inside jokes he starts with me and his laugh sounds forced but it is just him. There are subtle hints to everything. Little notes of frustration when he plays his music so loud I can’t hear the customers; knowing he will have to turn it down as soon as his wife yells out in her high pitched and vexed way “Greg! Greg! Could we puhlease turn the music down!” Small sips of coffee and tea whisper in a communion of supplication, feeding needy nerves with caffeine as his wife and I talk of Buddhism as the customers file out the door and the chimes ring around the hiss of the coffee maker. There are the furtive bruises that hide out of view along my cephalic and median cubical veins, tracing days past, yellowed skin like the forefingers of smokers. Cat scratches, doctors’ appointments, an old rash, pastiness, burns; all good lies when I slide my long sleeves up in a familiar gesture. We work through the winter. The windows don’t fog as much but the shirt remains off in the mornings before customers come in while he is pulling hot trays from one of the racks of the mammoth oven that breathes out heat and warmth and the smell of crisped and hand rolled secrets of honey, malt, and flour. Weeks go by with me asking for daily pay, in cash, and an hour or two off. I maintain a semblance of normality while living in a basement, rolling bagels during the day, and carving up meals of codeine and heroin, portioned for like daily prayers for morning and night. And it all works well till February, when I must tell him I’m leaving for two months because I need help he probably already suspected was required. I sit with him on malt buckets in the back bathroom, smoking cigarettes and waiting for him to become a real boss with a real decision that is easy and expected after three months of seeing me seep and seethe into oblivion. But he doesn’t fire me. He doesn’t ask what I did. He doesn’t mind at all. He tells me he is glad I am getting help and asks do I want to work when I come back. In spring, the black and tile floor begins to seem like home. The ease of spreading lukewarm cream cheese, the smoky smell of good lox, the dry coolness of fresh dough, the air of conversation around crowded tables. Jovial speech echoes between bites and napkin wipes. The small shop entertains and pulls me into its intimate world. 2006 George DeBoef Beaujolais is a good drink at noon when it’s warmer out or it has been an especially busy day with college kids like Loyola girls who are most comfortable in a tight t-shirt’ torture when I’m smelling like wine, fish, and flour trying to pick up a number. But we commiserate this abuse over cigarettes smoked in the back bathroom surrounded by the warped yellow paint of almost two decades of second-hand chats. This is the sole office of the store, the employee bathroom. It is the size of a broom closet, holding three buckets: two for sitting (with toilet as reserve) and one to hold the ashtray, the rainbow assortment of translucent dollar-lighters, the half burned and savored last cigarettes, and the cigarette packs opened and decorative with Newport green and white, Marlboro red and black, and his Belgian Princes a solid crimson. We talk about Jim Thompson in hotel rooms and Eric Ambler roaming Europe and John Barth sailing through Baltimore bays. I try to bring in Faulkner and Lowry but they are not welcome. He teaches me about true rhythm and blues with countless players, instruments, orchestrations, and singers that I look up and listen to when I get home with a few dollars left of tips and a bottle he gave me on discount for a long, hard day. But things are starting to get serious. My hands shake too much to spread cream cheese. I’m dropping customers change and can’t write orders till after lunch. And even lunch is disastrous, because even after chewing four Juicy Fruits, my six-shots-two-pints liquid diet still seethes through my pores and out into the dewy coolness of the store. I am paler every day, he says. I sweat too much for springtime and I am losing weight working in a bagel shop. “You know what you gotta do.” he says. “And you’re a smart guy you just gotta try something. I don’t know if you should drink or maybe if you could just cut down.” What was once not said is now out in the open. We start talking about changing and if he can keep me around anymore because I’m missing work and smelling like yesterday’s barroom mop water. But he doesn’t judge me. He doesn’t press me for answers I don’t have. He doesn’t look down on me. He’s just happy at 7am when I walk in hungover and smiles and yells out: “We Got ‘Em!” Like it’s a surprise. With summer comes heat and hanging out in a freezer because the air conditioning is broken. The light is burnt out but it’s the coolest spot in the store after standing in front of a toaster for four hours shuffling bagels in and out only for more to arrive by the basketful for more cream cheese, salmon, or any of the quirky and quaint sandwiches he made up some time long before me. Things are getting older. Refrigerators are breaking down. Coffee machines no longer push out strong sepia streams so it takes two minutes to fill a large cup of hazelnut. The store has the sense of an unkempt home, trodden through too many times with too many guests. His hair is grayer, all his hair, because a shirtless morning never changes, which makes it all endearing. The jokes get older and staler but funnier because of it. The names of past employees become pleasant nostalgia to remind ourselves of when it’s too busy and we can barely breathe. Old customers, memorable for their attitudes and personalities or lack thereof, ring out in idle conversations when the store is empty and there is nothing left to do. I begged for my job back after nearly two years away. He gave me a test run schedule. First, only Sunday the busiest day. The second week, Saturday and Sunday. The third week included Friday as well. From there it was back to five or six days, depending on his staffing. So I stand in a urine colored walk-in for ten seconds at a time, almost daily, cooling myself in darkness but without regret. I’m clean for the first time working with him. He frets about his drinking. He worries that if he drinks in front of me I will go back to my old ways. I tell him often I don’t mind, but he has become strangely sensitive to me. This lasts only a few weeks before my sobriety becomes a joke and my drinking a long list of stories to laugh about in a back office of buckets and toiletries. I don’t even mind the trips to the freezer. I am just happy to be here, to stand and sweat and lift buckets his 60-something-year-old self can’t get anymore. He is tired more often now. It has been 25 years of 6am traffic and all day baking. But it doesn’t sink like his skin or drown his smile. Rising like dough without resentment or chagrin, he limps and staggers and puts up a good show, because if a customer doesn’t leave without laughing once, he knows he hasn’t done his job. Kathy, his wife, worries about his health. But they smile together and fight and smile again in a marriage that is hard to understand because it works with an old Jewish bassist and an avid ex-Catholic Buddhist. Like each a part of an ecosystem where his radiation feeds her flower. But now its fall. I have been fired for the fourth time. I am trying to get clean for the umpteenth time. I am trying to reconnect and be forgiven for God only knows how many times this has happened now. To be blunt and shallow, I owe him money. But I think about other things I owe him, not the advice given of friends, not the hand me downs, not the compliments, not even the friendship. I think of Greg and I think of a man with his shoes off doing paper work at the front table, a surly smile, a misplaced joke that he apologizes for immensely, a straight forward comment on my music, writing, or general attitude, a hunched back in a stained grey shirt letting out a crescendo of frustration walking away, only to laugh and smoke and become engulfed in the hazy acceptance of a hard, but funny life. I don’t want to think of him as sick. I don’t want him to become a memory. My father tries to call me and I don’t pick up because I’m waiting for Greg to call me back. When Greg calls back, he tells me he’s waiting on an Asian doctor to call him about chemotherapy so he can’t stay on the line long. He can’t do a lot anymore. It all hurts too much. He can’t eat at all. He can’t drink wine or anything but water. It hurts to smoke. It hurts to talk now. He laughs as I make a crude imitation of an Asian doctor. He’s laughing as he hangs up the phone. I picture him putting his rotary phone down in his Pikesville home, with a small chuckle, though it hurts him to laugh. I told him I would run errands for him, I would mow his lawn, I would do anything for him and Kathy and the shop. He tells me he will let me know but he probably never will. Because that’s just him. Last month he had surgery. It’s all very vague. We live in an age where you must ask questions that didn’t even exist hundreds of years ago. “Is it malignant?” “How long did they say you have left?” Grief becomes a trip to the Department of Motor Vehicles, where all the emotion, pain, frustration, sadness, and self-obsession boil inside you while waiting in hard cheap plastic seats, with others surrounding you going through their own misery and strange actions as you sit and stir and steam till finally, they read out your ticket number. And you go through all those feelings again but, for some reason, it is always quicker once you get up to the counter and face what brought you there. Winter is coming again. The sign reads “It’s been a great 27 and a half years”. There are no lights on and inside the window is the sight of beginnings of ends; half-empty boxes, personal items needed but left, furniture reeking of tiredness from the way they are left, mops and brooms left with little evidence of use. He sounds weary on the phone. He sounds tired and small like a younger man. He laughs and chuckles at small things, for that might be all that’s left. He is going to Paris one last time. He says “Dying is not fun”. And we laugh with a laugh that seems forced, but it’s the only way we know how. There are customers that meander by with soft eyes that glance up to read the handwritten note. They cup their hands to their heads and press against the glass staring in for a peak. But no one is home anymore. No more shirtless mornings. No more fogging windows. No more laughs and guilt and sardonic pokes at customers and staff. There are prayers being spoken from hundreds of mouths. There are regrets shrouded in pillows collecting tears and swelling with sobs from another hundred employees. There is silent meditation in a thousand minds that remain still with a passing thought from any customer that shared a joke, a bagel, a quick chat with a strange old man that ran a local bagel shop. There are little things that make up a family: flaws that are spoken and accepted, annoyances exaggerated by connection, grandness of shared joy and pain, regret or shame or guilt, whichever one calls the suffering of love and being beloved, forgiveness of failures and debts, memories stacked neatly ingrained at the forefront, earthly reminders like the feel of tiles, smells that bring back images and emotions that only exist in certain environments and pass like a changing of the wind. For Greg and I, it was Sunday mornings around Christmas time, when bulk orders of fish and bagels rang out from the broken, black, plastic phone. It was the anger that came out of him when something went wrong. It was the addiction I lived through with him, the lying and stealing and telling him it would be okay. It was the hopes he had for me that meant more to him than having a good employee. It was the reliance I had on him in so many facets; for money, for solace, for support, for humor. I relied on him to tell me I was more than the reckless terror I saw of myself. There are elements that make up a home. Foundations can be solid and settled well in steel and concrete, or they can sink in clay collecting moisture like a funeral handkerchief. Walls can be bricked and mortared, insulating warmth that comforts, holds in, protects. But mortar cracks, the outside comes in, the wind presses hard, and water ruins everything. There are events that make up a narrative of a building; storms pass through, water damage, mold, broken windows, creaking doors, AC free-on leaks, septic tank overflows. It is hard to hold a house together over years. It is hard to keep everything standing. Man and material break down. Grow old, leaving nothing but frames and past tenants. The store is now for sale, foreclosed by metastasis and unforgiving time. But for whatever resident comes to pass through this small shop, there will be the scars and ghosts that echo through the walls. The tile will sleek and shine with the countless clip-clops of customers and staff long moved-on. The hall will darken with a frustrated silence of paper goods and employees restocking shelves. The kitchen will ring out with songs once played of Otis Redding, Eddie King, Booker T. and the MGs, and innumerable players, singers, and stories. The ovens will tower over a bucket seemingly waiting for someone to rest themselves upon it. Visions of a beautiful older woman, holding a teacup and a smile that doesn’t go away will flash by the sight of customers collecting by the cash register. And along the side of the left wall, near the windows that fog and cool in seasons, above the front table that reeks of old checks and schedules and tax forms, near the door that chimes with the thankfulness of staff; Greg will smile down from a mural, with salt and pepper beard and wide eyes, looking in want of company, always looking for someone to talk to, to make smile, to grant grace to someone else that never deserved it, or knew what it meant, or thought he would ever wind up, grateful, in a place like this.

#nonfiction #grief #addiction #rememberance

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