[stylist] FLM Chapter 3 for your consideration

[Judith Bron]

Shelly, I love the way you write.  This story started slow, but even that 
was written extremely well and kept the reader wanting to turn the page.  I 
would love to find out what happens when Glenn finally meets allison.  I'm 
sure that will happen.  Why else would you include it?  Great going!  Judith
----- Original Message ----- 
From: "Shelley J. Alongi" <qobells at roadrunner.com>
To: "NFBnet Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Sent: Thursday, September 10, 2009 12:44 AM
Subject: [stylist] FLM Chapter 3 for your consideration


> Here's chapter 3. Here's the big secret. Glen's hands are mentioned in the 
> chapter, by the way. For now I'm leaving them cold and clammy in chapter 1 
> because Judy isn't worried about them. She knows them. I'll work on 
> rewriting chapter 1 or at least part of it but not now. Enjoy.
>
> Flirting with Monday
> chapter 3
>
>
> The Friday after we sat by the tracks, Judy drove me to the offices of Dr. 
> Lee Meadows, the psychologist she knew from the commuter route. She said 
> nothing, only met me off the last train and became my own personal hero. I 
> was nervous and I was sick at heart. I had never told anyone about 
> Elizabeth and how I got her pregnant before we were supposed to get 
> married. I was going to do the right thing we were going to get married 
> and raise the baby. But then she didn't show up at the wedding and four 
> months later when I got back from my first job with the Union Pacific I 
> found a letter from my mother in Oregon that said that Elizabeth had 
> contacted her to say that Allison was a girl and I wouldn't be allowed to 
> see her. I couldn't even go to court to get my daughter, she hadn't put my 
> name on the birth certificate. The girl's name was Allison May Handling, 
> not Allison May Streicher. I felt a ball squeezing me inside. I had a 
> daughter and her mother wouldn't let me see her. I used the
> train to escape. Somehow I was afraid that Judy would leave me if she 
> found I had a daughter. The girl had to be twenty years old now. When I 
> told Dr. Lee Meadows all of this he was patient. He let me lie against 
> that couch sick and sobbing. It was my own fault, I shouldn't have gotten 
> her pregnant, and now I didn't even know where she was. On those little 
> whistle stops we took where you see five or ten or even one person get on 
> the train I would wonder if she was among the newcomers, but then I was 
> focused on looking at signals and talking to dispatch, and getting us safe 
> and sound to wherever we were going. I didn't really have time to think 
> about Allison May Handling. Elizabeth wouldn't let me see her and I didn't 
> fight it. But it nagged me like a thorn in the rest of my life. Having 
> that daughter and not knowing anything, knowing she was part of me and I 
> had no part of her drained what energy there was after the crazy hours I 
> kept with the railroads. It kept me from forming
> relationships on a permanent basis. Waving to railfans, talking to people 
> at stations, that was allfine. But thinking of anything seriously was out 
> of the question. That didn't happen till I settled down and got the house 
> and Magnet, Vincent, and Angel. Now I couldn't run and part of me was just 
> tired of running. Judy in her own way, without trying, was making me face 
> my own fears. It wasn't very pleasant, but I had to do it. If I didn't 
> face them I would just end up selling the house and giving up this pretty 
> decent job, and if I had done that, I would never have met Judy flower. 
> Lee Meadows didn't say anything. He only sat there and waited for me to 
> finish spilling my guts, something I hadn't had the courage to do with 
> Judy. When our time was up, he shook my hand and looked intently at me.
>
>
>
> "Judy loves you, Glen," was all he said. Don't forget that. Just let her 
> love you."
>
>
>
> Judy held a book on her lap. I came and sat down beside her, sighing 
> heavily. She turned quiet, green eyes to my face.
>
>
>
> "You've been crying," she said, taking my hand. "Are you feeling better?"
>
>
>
> "No."
>
>
>
> "Well, lets go eat. I want to look at you. I love you, you know that."
>
>
>
> I nodded and we walked out together in silence. We found ourselves at a 
> small, Mexican hacienda style restaurant, dimly lit, with excellent food, 
> and some quiet tables in the back. We escaped to one of them away from the 
> noise and the crowds. I didn't want noise. I didn't want crowds. I wanted 
> Judy and silence and good food to soothe my hot tears. Judy was patient as 
> the waiter set steaming oval platters of cheese and chicken enchiladas in 
> front of us, smothered in green sauce. She didn't ask me to tell her 
> anything. I sat there wearily, my hands on the table. Judy reached forward 
> and took them. I squeezed them.
>
>
>
> "You want to know what happened today," I said, weariness lacing my voice.
>
>
>
> "You tell me when you can it's okay."
>
>
>
> "I'll tell you, but not now." I took one of my hands and rubbed my eyes. 
> "I'm glad tomorrow is Saturday. I need to just lay on the couch and watch 
> TV."
>
>
>
> "You do that," she said. "I need to go to the church and help the ladies 
> with a baby shower. I'll come by later on in the evening."
>
>
>
> "Please do that," I said, needing this girls' strength. Monday morning I 
> would have to be happy and cheerful and smiling. That was the way I didn't 
> feel right now.
>
>
>
> There was no conversation as we drove silently to my white, small house on 
> Cleveland Avenue. The closing of the passenger and driver's doors echoed 
> in the silence of the late evening. Our feet scraped across the 
> cobblestones, tracking gently through the short, green grass of the front 
> lawn. Judy stood behind me as the keys rattled against the wooden door and 
> I opened it into the peace of that house. The keys clattered painfully 
> against the table inside the entry hallway. We both listened for the sound 
> of running feet and impatient barking, and soon the white floppy-eared 
> Magnet came out to meet us. She practically hurled herself into Judy's 
> outstretched arms.
>
>
>
> "Hey" she said, "You look darling. Darling! Are you keeping Angel happy?"
>
>
>
> It was fun to watch these two interact. I was tired but I didn't want to 
> let her go; not just yet. I made my way into the living room. Judy stood 
> at the door.
>
>
>
> "I should go, Glenn," she said, perhaps a little hesitantly. She was still 
> petting Magnet.
>
>
>
> "Why? It's the weekend."
>
>
>
> "You've had a long day. Maybe you want some time to yourself."
>
>
>
> I came up to Judy, stood in front of her, my face somber.
>
>
>
> "What is it, honey?" she said. "You look so serious."
>
>
>
> I pointed to the couch. It was clean and orderly. The mess was in the 
> bedroom.
>
>
>
> "Can you stay for a while? We both don't have to be at work in the 
> morning."
>
>
>
> "I know," she said quietly. She came and sat down where I pointed. I sat 
> down next to her. I reached out and took her hand, laying it on my knee. 
> She looked up at my face.  Silence passed between us. Magnet and Angel 
> were out somewhere, they had left us alone.
>
>
>
> "Next week," I said. "After I get home from seeing Dr. Meadows. I want to 
> cook for you. I appreciate you driving."
>
>
>
> "Sure," she said. "Is Dr. Meadows helping?"
>
>
>
> I don't know," I said truthfully. "I hope so. I will know more on Monday 
> after I've had a few days to think about this. Or not think about it. 
> Tomorrow I just need a break."
>
>
>
> "I know," she said sympathetically. She curled my fingers through her's, 
> feeling some scars that had appeared over time when I had done engine 
> repairs and gone hiking and cut myself on some rocks. These hands had a 
> lifetime of memories to share. I knew that Judy would want to hear about 
> all of them. There would be time for that. But for now, I wanted to step 
> away from the raw angry scar that was my past. I was slowly starting to 
> open up to Judy but there was only so much I could do at a time.
>
>
>
> "I have to go," she whispered. "The baby shower."
>
>
>
> Suddenly I remembered she had said she was going to help with a baby 
> shower. It reminded me of Allison and my eyes filled with tears.
>
>
>
> "What is it?" she said. She looked a little bit tired, but patient.
>
>
>
> I let the tears drip down my face and then I took a deep breath.
>
>
>
> "Judy," I said my voice shaking, "I want to tell you the rest of that 
> story. It has to do with the baby shower."
>
>
>
> Judy sat back and curled her fingers through mine. The weariness seemed to 
> leave her face. Her look told me she had all night. When I finished, she 
> cried with me, holding me, mixing our tears, as if it was she who had been 
> in this event. She kept wiping my face. We sat there for a long time, just 
> holding.
>
>
>
> "Do you want to find her?" Judy asked quietly. "Allison?"
>
>
>
> "Sometimes," I admitted.
>
> "And Elizabeth?" she asked, probing just a bit deeper. I sighed.
>
>
>
> "No," I admitted. "No if I have ever wanted to find anyone it would be my 
> daughter."
>
>
>
> Judy sat here holding me for another long moment. She looked up at me with 
> total acceptance, her eyes told me I didn't need to be afraid anymore.
>
>
>
> "You have a daughter," she said as if awe struck. "She might look like 
> you." The silence lengthened, we curled up together as if protecting each 
> other from something, or maybe just because the human contact would 
> sustain me. It had taken me two years to admit this to her, and now that 
> it was done there wasn't anything either of us needed to say. Words 
> couldn't bring my daughter to me. Judy hugged me tighter, kept caressing 
> my face.
>
>
>
> "Maybe she likes trains," Judy said lightly, making me laugh. Judy could 
> always make me laugh at the most painful moments. A smile tugged at the 
> corners of my mouth and she returned it. We didn't say anything else for a 
> long time; she only held me, caressing me wit her eyes, loving me despite 
> what I hadn't been able to tell her for two years.
>
>
>
> "Glen," she spoke my name softly, I looked at her face, "this is what has 
> bothered you so long?" I nodded. "I see," she said into my eyes. "I see. 
> And I understand that you would have loved her."
>
>
> Shelley J. Alongi
> Home Office: (714)869-3207
> **
> NFBWD "Slate and Style" editor
> http://www.nfb-writers-division.org
>
> **
> To read essays on my journey through the Chatsworth train accident, 
> Metrolink 111 or other interests click on 
> http://www.storymania.com/cgibin/sm2/smshowauthorbox.cgi?page=&author=AlongiSJ&alpha=A
>
> updated July 2, 2009
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