bullpencatcher

bullpencatcher

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They seemed all innocent at the beginning. Even their teeth didn't hurt. But that wasn't the case at all. Mostly nurture, but Ray just wasn't a good father. Thought that meanness and violence was the way to approach the world.

drops

It did it all night. We were holed up in the hotel after the day of racing. The lady had looked at me when I had leered at her too-young daughter. I figured it was Europe, so what the heck. Nabokov, right? That was during the day when the sun was shining, it's dark now and quite different.

It was all the things that brought the different beliefs together. At least at this point, as the world seemed to finally be spinning down. She spent the summer by the pool as the sun stayed up and up and up. All things glittered for awhile. And then that Monday came.

It was on that side that I found her early in the morning. Steam was still coming off the body as I stared from the other side, trying to muster the will to cross. It couldn't have been long before when it happened. Even from this distance that was apparent.

At first I thought I had frightened her, and maybe I had, at the end of the day isn't that how it starts? - but as it turned out it was deeper than that. It was something she would spend time and money to sit in a chair and discuss. No salve or lotion would ever solve the problem. That's what fathers do.

She felt just like she did the day of the bank robbery. A little flustered. She thought at the time that she and Dave could last forever. Money and kids and infidelity weren't even in the picture. Just sheer bliss at this man. Man of her dreams. Like it would never end.

If all we could do is walk into the water and bathe. If all we could do was see each other through the clean eyes that Tuesday morning brings. That would be something to take away from this. You can do whatever you set your mind to. Ninety days is all that it takes. Twelve steps up the ladder is the promised land.

All that talk of the devil and what he had done to her turned off most of the ladies in the neighborhood quilting bee. But Gloria, oh Gloria!, she was a real card and thought it was hilarious. The better part of the hour she kept prodding her to tell more while the others kept refilling their tea in the kitchen and gossiping under their breath.

I guess he was always suspect. The way he prowled around the neighborhood. The cats would run for cover. His tongue all hanging out. Those were the days before he was a dog. And already such a beast. I hated him like one hates a mom's new boyfriend. As if my life depended on it.

He was the high-stepper. The one with all the plans. Didn't need college because he learned it all walking the woods in his country home with his father when he was a child. The insignia, the shine on the boots. It was all there to qualify him as the leader. And if you didn't agree, there would be hell to pay.

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writing since 2011 · 117 entries · 117 days shown up

each square is a day—lit means Bryan showed up.

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117days written

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on this day 15 years ago

Bryan wrote about poison
“I remember that one. Sitting in the back of the glass. Her hair down to just the point where the beloved's hair should go. I ran cross-country which was good enough to get me on the radar. Later ones…”

the words Bryan reaches for

nightnowguesshomemorningrememberlaterlovewardadlakeagowalkingsummerleasthead