Archive for June, 2007
Second Draft Forward
I wanted to express a certain idea in this story, but as I read it a couple of months after I wrote the first draft, I realized that the idea was not clearly expressed. So, I changed the structure of the story slightly. I also made quite a few additional changes; they were mainly one of the following two types of changes. One type of changes I made were to eliminate repetition of words; partly because I was inexperienced, I repeated so many words unnecessarily. I made as many corrections as I could make. The other type of changes I made were to make this sound a little more story-like. Speaking frankly, I wrote so many lousy sentences and pitiful paragraphs in the first draft; they didn’t flow, nor did they sound beautifully. I had to make changes to make some improvement. I feel that I ought to rewrite this at least one more time at a later time, but I hope that this second draft is an improvement over the first draft.
Mary Anne Rose
Chapter 1: Upon Returning From His Trip
Chapter 2: Ten Years Later
Chapter 3: ‘JO / Just Opened’
Chapter 4: Montego Bay, 1996
Chapter 5: New York City
Chapter 6: Finishing Mocha
Chapter 7: Back At ‘75th & Amsterdam’
Chapter 8: A Few Blocks From The Bar
Short Stories (Fiction) | 30.06.2007 14:08 | No Comments
1. Upon Returning From His Trip
”You know, I’m writing a story. I have the first few pages here. Do you want to read them?” The one who spoke these words must have been a college student; he looked like nineteen or twenty years old. He sat on a chair in the patio of the coffeehouse just two blocks away from the college campus. There was a small round table in front of him, and on the opposite side of it, another young man sat; he was speaking to him. Both wore t-shirts and jeans. One had a backpack and the other had a shoulder bag. Sitting and having coffee under California sun. “Sure,” said his friend, reached the handwritten papers across the table in a quick motion and started reading. When he was about to finish the first page, he smiled not in a vulgar way but in such a way that he thought it a cute story; he must have been reading the part portraying oral sex between the main character and his companion. “Not bad, not bad,” uttered he blithely.
”Ok, what do you think?”
”It’s not bad. You should keep going. And let me know when you finish writing this.”
After this sentence was spoken, two started talking about something else.
He intended to finish writing the story but he never did. Span of ten years was going to pass before he picked up a pen or rather started typing new pages. Finishing the junior Year in college, the senior Year, the graduation, the first job in California, the second job in New York City and the move to the city upon taking the job. A shared room in a college dormitory, the move to an apartment in college town, a month of hotel stay upon moving to New York City, once again a shared room though the apartment was located in the center of the city and the move to a less crowded and more reserved apartment in Queens. The one who read the story graduated a year before he did and left for Northern California, a new friend, farewell upon his move to New York, a few new friends in the city and a couple of romantic encounters here and there.
Short Stories (Fiction) | 30.06.2007 14:02 | No Comments
2. Ten Years Later
A man walked into ‘75th & Amsterdam’, a bar in Upper West Side, New York. It was around 6:30 pm and today was a weekday, so the place was still quiet; if this were located in Wall Street or Midtown, working professionals would pack the place at this early hour, but the surrounding area was a residential area, so customers started coming in much later. He looked around; it appeared that he was looking for someone. Within five seconds, he found and approached her. Before neither spoke a word, he took out a short stack of papers stapled together and put it on the bar gently. He broke silence, “Hi.” “Hi,” replied she.
”I wrote this. Would you read it and tell me what you think?”
He wore a dark navy blue blazer, black slacks and a white shirt with French cuffs. Silver watch and dark leather boots. Each item looked very fine. He seemed a little young to be called ‘dapper’ but certainly looked handsome. Given his attire, it was guessed that he was one of working professionals in the city; he was too young to be an executive but probably on his way up there. He did not look like he was in publishing business, however, so it was fair to guess that he wrote it in his spare time or in his office while he allocated time for it unofficially.
”Ok …,” murmured she, paused for a second and pronounced, “Why do you think I’m interested in reading this? What if I don’t have time to read it?”
”I’m hoping that you have time. I’m also hoping that this is interesting enough so that you can finish reading without great difficulty. It’s only ten pages,” said he rather sincerely.
”You’re assuming that I have time AND I’m interested.” She was not upset but she apparently wanted to hear why he came to ask this all of a sudden. He looked down only slightly, breathed in and spoke gently but firmly, “Here’s the thing. This is a kind of personal story, and thus, I don’t want to pick just anyone to read it. The first reader has to be the right person.”
”And you picked me?”
”That’s right.”
”How about Grey?” She asked about their mutual friend.
”He’s not the best person in this particular instance.”
There was a pause again and then she said, “I’ll read it.”
”Thanks.”
”Do you want to have a drink?”
”Ah, sure, Guinness?”
Beer was served and they had chitchat. As he finished his drink, he left for the day.
Story passed to the bartender read as follows.
Short Stories (Fiction) | 30.06.2007 14:01 | No Comments
3. ‘JO / Just Opened’
‘JO / Just Opened’, Upper West Side, New York; it was easy for customers to remember the name of the coffeehouse, but most of them wondered why the owner named the place like that. If the place stayed in business for a year, its name would sound rather funny. This became a popular hangout in the area, nonetheless, while it opened only a month ago. Its storefront was about 4 meters (13 feet) wide and it stretched into its tenant building about 20 meters (66 feet) long. It had the raw concrete floor and the coffee bar was set up using plywood. While the entrance was made using steel and glass, a couple of different colors were used to paint the interior; blue, sky blue, light yellow and white. Chairs were lined up along the bar and couches were placed in the far side from the entrance. Chairs had round seats and single legs; they looked like the kind that you saw in 60s style American diners, the kind of places that you ordered drinks and foods like coffee, milk shake, burgers and fries, French toasts, pancakes and cheese cakes. There were two types of couches, one seater and two seater ones; they looked like used, but you couldn’t tell whether the coffeehouse bought used or they had used them for a long time, and, as a result, they looked used. Some could call the design of the place ‘modern’, while others could call the same design ‘chaotic’. In the center was there a computer connected to the Internet. Many coffeehouses had similar setups, and this particular set up in ‘JO’ was not uncommon; it was made available to customers for free. Right next to it was there a one seater red couch, and that was where Mary Anne Rose sat.
As one could figure out by looking the design of the place, it was not one of corporate coffeehouses; they would not make a place like this. It would be a slight exaggeration to say that those who came here were the kind who resisted the corporate control and attempted to restore human dynamics and creativity, but one thing was sure; they were the kind who recognized the world of compliance consciously or subconsciously but decided to not so easily give in. This was probably also a slight exaggeration, but she must not have been just another ordinary girl; she must have had a story.
She was reading the personnel section of Village Voice, the most popular town paper in the city. There were a number of ads of presumably single men and women, looking for friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, potential husbands and wives. She was single at the moment but was not looking for a boyfriend or a husband; she was just looking at it and killing time. It was actually quite entertaining to look at those ads. Some said that they looked very attractive, while others said that they looked average. She found it rather funny; while New Yorkers dressed more fashionably and kept in better shape than Americans in the rest of the country, all of them couldn’t possibly be above average. She smirked and kept on reading. Some described that they were well off, while others said that they had great incomes. She was not an economist but she found it rather peculiar also; there were many very wealthy men and women in New York City, and in fact, many of the richest in the nation lived here, but the average American had 9k credit card debts. That’s a fact and 9k was just the credit card debt. Many had car loans, student loans and mortgages. So, statistically speaking, many of them listed in the personnel could not possibly be well off; she had no expression on her face this time. She kept reading ads and found one ad by a twenty-nine years old man saying, “Let’s not get tense about this. I want us to become friends and get to know each other. No rush and let’s take it slow first. And then, we’ll see what happens …” She grinned at the ad, closed her eyes just for a second and sighed only slightly. There were two possibilities. One was that whoever wrote this was just like most men; they definitely thought about getting in bed when they met a young woman for the first time. They would certainly not mind getting into the action just a couple of hours after they met if possible; in fact, they would prefer it. In other words, the ad was intended to play with many women’s wishful thinking that he was not that kind; the tactic was nothing new or original. The other possibility was that he meant what he said. But whichever the case was, the ad did not appeal to her. She understood that appealing to women’s wishful thinking was a part of the game, but she was just not into it. Nonetheless, she was not interested in going on a date so many times before she and her new boyfriend decided what to do next; it seemed too ritualistic. She felt that there ought to be certain spontaneity. She put down Village Voice and she sipped her Mocha. She thought about what her ideal date would be like for a few minutes, and she suddenly recalled a guy that she met about seven years ago. She was twenty-two then, and the guy was a year younger than her, so he was twenty-one. She spent several days with him, and at that time, she did not think much of him. She kind of liked him, but when she was with him seven years ago, she felt that he was just one of a dozen men that she met, got to know and spent some time with. But, as seven years passed, she realized that meeting him was the turning point of her life. And it was spontaneous and not ritualistic; neither she nor he played any game and she enjoyed that.
- - - - - - - - -
Mary Anne looked like a real New Yorker; she dressed and walked like them. She assimilated in the crowd. She didn’t have New York accent, but her English sounded very much like American accent today, so most people assumed that she’d been in the city or in this country for some years though they suspected that she was not originally from this region. Obviously, people didn’t know how she spoke unless they heard her speaking, so most of them didn’t even suspect that she was from elsewhere when they first saw her. Given that she looked very comfortable as she walked around the city, they assumed that she’d been here for several years or so, if not, longer. The last assumption was correct; she’d been in New York for six years now. The second assumption about her having been in U.S. for some years was not entirely correct; she’d been in the country for six years and that was it. She only lived in this city, though she visited a couple of different places out of the state. The first assumption about her being a real New Yorker was sort of correct since this was her town now, but most people didn’t guess where she originally came from. She was from Caribbean; she was born and grew up in a small island called ‘Jamaica.’
Her memory flashed back and remembered her last days in the island. She remembered that her last days started just like any other day; she was hanging out in Montego Bay, Jamaica. She was thinking that it was going to be like any other day, but, as she looked back, that was the day that her life started turning to a different direction.
Short Stories (Fiction) | 30.06.2007 14:00 | No Comments
4. Montego Bay, 1996
Mary Anne Rose sat on a chair in an empty outdoor restaurant while her friend Julienne sat next to her. It was almost eight in the evening and dark outside. She looked at her clothes and thought that she didn’t pick right clothes tonight. She didn’t have a lot of clothes, but she had enough; she usually picked right clothes and made her look captivating, but she thought that she looked rather lame tonight. Montego Bay was a small city, so there weren’t that many people; she was also in the east half of the city now, the area that tourists stayed, so there were even less people, which meant that far less girls competed with her on attracting men. Plus, she looked fine even with the clothes that she felt ‘lame’, so she should stand out among other girls. But she felt like she was not living up to her full potential and that bothered a little, though no one around her could tell what she was thinking except for Julienne.
- - - - - - - - -
She was born and grew up in a small village near Montego Bay, Jamaica. Average crime rate in the country was very high, but the village was not like many towns of high crime rates though it was certainly not the safest or the most peaceful place to grow up as a child. That was not to say that Jamaica was a terrible country, but high crimes rates were statistical facts; all reputable reports backed up these facts. She could not help herself getting to know a few lawbreakers and thugs as a result. Though she did not get a lot of harassments from them, drug related crimes were rampant, and murders were also not uncommon. There was no industry or established education system in the country, so a lot of people eventually grew up to become gangsters and alike. While she did not waste her time hanging out with them, she did not exactly become a studious young woman or a career woman. The latter option was very difficult though because there were really no real jobs offered by multi-national corporations, nor were there any real businesses. Hospitality industry was the only existing industry, and there was nothing else. What she grew up to become was a kind of hustler. She was not as ruthless or greedy as a real hustler, but she was that categorically speaking. She was not the female version of womanizer or misogynist, but she could make herself to not be attached to any men emotionally. In that sense, she had a characteristic of the hustler.
She had a suggestive physical figure. She was about 170 cm (5’7) tall; she had very smooth and strong skin. There was no pimple, dark spot or scar on her skin. Like many other women in the island, she had very dark skin. She was slender compared to other women of African descent but had the ideal figure in the eyes of Americans and Europeans. Curvious and balanced but slim. She had large eyes and straight nose; lips were rather small but not thin. Had she been a little taller, she had a fair shot at becoming a fashion model. Many fashion designers, especially those in Europe, were very keen on using slender radiant looking women of African descent starting in the last decade, so this was not exactly an impossible dream to her; in fact, she was encouraged to become a model in the past. She met a man from France about three years ago in Montego Bay; she already started hanging out and spending a lot of time with tourists then. He worked in the fashion industry, and he casually suggested that she give it a shot at becoming a model though he admitted that it would have been ideal if she had been a little taller. She thought about it for a while but never pursued. She did think about getting out of the island though. Over the last couple of years, she met many men from U.S., Canada and Europe. She learned that they belonged to a different world from one, which she lived in, not just in the sense of geography but also in the sense of the social structure and the fundamental wealth in the society. She spent a lot of time with men from that different world and she naturally spent a lot of time at hotels, bars and restaurants hosting and serving them. They showed programs by CNN and BBC all the time, so she ended up following oversea news more closely than local news; it wasn’t that she cared a lot about local news to begin with though. She followed major events that way and had a rough idea of what the world outside of the island was like, but, as she actually spent time with men from there, she physically experienced that they were different. They spoke differently from men in the island. They ate differently. They made love differently. Many of them read. They thought differently. They treated her and other women differently from the way that men in the island treated them. She shared meals, drinks, walk on the beach and yacht ride around the island with those men. They belonged to the different world; it was just a guess at the beginning and then it became a belief. From then on, each encounter simply became yet another affirmation. But she didn’t belong there. She hoped that, a man from that world would come and get her out of here someday. It was not a result of her hatred toward her birthplace; it was a fine place and she neither disliked nor hated there. But over time, in her mind, it became inevitable that there wouldn’t be much to experience or explore here; if she wanted to do something other than hanging out with them, she ought to leave here. Upon making up her mind, she thought like an optimist. She was confident that she had something to offer to get what she wanted, that was, her salacious figure; she was good mannered and playful as well. Without being overconfident, she asserted that when men look at her, they were enthralled. She was right; she was a beautiful woman. This was not a sell out; this was an offer. She did not believe that she was being unethical or immoral; she was simply concerned about herself without hurting anyone.
She had a friend, Natasha. They used to hang out in Montego Bay up until a year ago. Natasha was a looker though Mary Ann had a more charming face. She was slightly taller than Mary Anne and had a little more exotic face; her nose was a little taller and her eyes were sharp. She met a man from Germany a year ago; he was in his early thirty’s and single. He was not an affluent man but had a handsome income. He arranged the passport and a visa for her so that she could go visit Germany and stay with him for a while. This meant that she essentially got the permanent entrance path to Europe. She knew that he would just lose interest in her a year from then, if not, in near future, but she was not concerned about that. She had the permanent entrance path to Europe; that was what really mattered to her and nothing else really mattered. When she got it, she thought, “Who knows? While I’m Europe, I can find a way to go to U.S. or Canada if I decide that that’s what I want to do.” She was right; at the moment that she got her passport and the visa, she belonged to the different world, and she knew that she would not come back to the world where she was born and grew up. She flew to Germany two weeks later and she was gone. Mary Anne thought that Natasha got the chance a little earlier than she did. She did not feel any resentment toward Natasha; she felt very happy for her.
- - - - - - - - -
Mary Anne spent too much time sitting today, so she wanted to stand up and stretch her legs. She walked around the empty restaurant and then walked to the side facing the ocean; she reached the end and stood for a few seconds. The restaurant that she was in was built on the mountainside, so she could look down the traffic and pedestrians on the main street running along the coastal line. She looked around and saw passersby. She saw the usual crowd. Men in mid 30s; some were by themselves, while others were with local girls; they were from either U.S., Canada or Europe. A few blond women here and there with local boys; they were mostly from U.S. or so she guessed. They were not unattractive women but looked like they passed their prime; it was rather obvious that they came to the island to look for flesh. And young girls from East Asia; they all dressed like black girls in U.S., though their clothes were far more expensive than what they imitated. They were always with local boys; she wondered if she missed anything in men in the island because there had to be good reasons why girls flew all the way from East Asia to meet men here. She couldn’t think of good reasons but then she said to herself, “Well, most things in this world are so inexplicable.” She was going to turn around and go back to where Julienne sat but she saw a young guy who looked like he didn’t exactly blend into the crowd. He looked like that he was from somewhere from Asia but she couldn’t tell exactly where. Many tourists came to visit Jamaica from Asia but most of them were girls; some men came to visit the island but they were never alone. They were either with their families or with their male friends. It was rare that any man from that part of the world came to Jamaica alone; he made her a little curious.
She looked at him from above, thought for a second and called “Hey!” He looked up and stopped. She ran down to the street, stood in front of him and asked, “Where are you going?” He answered, “Nowhere in particular. I’m taking a walk.” She asked if she could come along; she did this very often, and she usually did this confidently or her new friend, so to speak, asked her to come along before she asked. But today, she felt a bit insecure because, according to her, she wasn’t dressed right. He didn’t look sharp, but she knew instantly that it was because he arrived here just several hours ago. She knew this because she met so many tourists before and she knew about them very well; how they looked when they arrived, how they walked when they were about to leave, how they talked after they spent a week or so here and many other things. He looked a little surprised, but he let her come along. She also made a gesture to ask Julienne to come along.
She spent the next couple of hours with him. At one point, he took off his glasses. He told her that he typically wore contact lens but he took a red eye flight to Jamaica; he wanted to get his eyes rested on his flight, so he wore glasses. But, in the end, he could not get sleep well on his flight, so his eyes felt a little tired still; he explained that this was why he was wearing glasses. She found that he was actually a handsome young man when he took off his glasses. He looked a little stiff and pensive though. She liked how he looked, but she was disappointed to find out that he was just a student and was not carrying a lot of money; he was going to a college in California and he was taking a little time off now. She did not show her this disappointment on her face, but she knew that she could not set her expectation high; there wouldn’t be any yacht ride or scuba diving.
Most men came here to party, and they were interested in any girls as long as they were physically attractive; if they met Mary Anne and Julienne, they always made eye contacts with both. Julienne was very attractive on her own right and she often got more attention than Mary Anne. But he seemed to be much more keen on Mary Anne. Three stopped at a couple of outdoor bars, though they didn’t order many drinks. They also walked around the east side of Montego Bay, where tourists hanged out. At one point, she held his hands, and he did not resist. Though he did have thick chest or big biceps, he had masculine hands; they were kind of hands that could hold her firmly. After he held her hands long enough, he asked her to come back to his hotel; he was a little nervous because he was essentially asking her to sleep with her and he recognizably had not asked too many women something like that. She was one of those women who could tell whether a man was experienced or not, and if he were inexperienced, whether he slept with any girls before or not just by looking at a man for a short while and she knew that he slept with one or two girls before but her observation and familiarity with the subject told her that he was not very skilled in bed, either. She generally preferred well-experienced men but she felt a little different about this one. She casually answered “Ok.”; he looked relieved.
She sensed that Julienne felt a little left out tonight. Many men found that Julienne was a seductive young woman but he didn’t seem to be interested in her; he was not ignoring Julienne intentionally, either. Now that she was going to his hotel, Julienne didn’t know what to do. She just told her to go home; a little boring night for her, but she thought, “What else can she do?”
He took her to his hotel, but he apparently felt a little awkward to ask her to come straight to his room, so he first took her to the bar inside. This was the first time that she entered this place, but she saw it many times from outside; it looked like a budget hotel, and she confirmed it as she entered. The bar didn’t look very pretty, either, though there was a pool right next to it; she had seen worse, but this was definitely not most glamorous one in Montego Bay.
The bar was completely empty. He ordered a drink for her and he also got a drink for himself. She sat beside the pool and he sat right next to her. The bartender figured that this guy was a little inexperienced, so he decided to help him out; he just turned off the light in the bar, left only two of them, left work and went home. Ten minutes later, he managed to kiss her in the midst of nervousness; he was ok, though he could definitely improve his techniques; he then took her up to his room where she spent the night.
She spent the next day and the day after with him. And then she left. She told him that she had a few things to do and she’d be back the next day. She didn’t exactly lie; Julienne and she were invited to a party in Kingston a couple of weeks back. Hosts were going to arrange a room for them to stay so that they could party until late night. She thought about canceling this but she wanted to go to a ‘real’ party. She also missed Julienne, her best friend. She also thought that her new boyfriend was going to leave here in several days, so she couldn’t think of any reason why she should attach herself to him. She asked her friend’s friend to give Julienne and her ride to Kingston. He said fine and took them to the capital.
- - - - - - - - -
The party was fun but it dragged on for three days; she was a little tired at the end and was happy to head home at that point. When she came back to Montego Bay, she was not thinking about him at all; she assumed that he totally forgot about her, picked up another girl or left the island by then. The day that she came back, she stopped at a bar that she went to visit regularly; he was there. She was surprised because he was there to meet her and he figured out that that was where she was probably going to show up that night somehow. It turned out that he made a lot of effort to find her whereabouts for the last three days. He even found out where she lived and went to visit that place; she guessed that, given that he was not a local, he must have made a lot of effort. After she spent about an hour chatting with him, she told him that she’d stop at his hotel later that night. This time did she lie because she knew that he was going to leave here the next day; that was his flight schedule. She was not looking to have any emotional attachment.
After he left for U.S., she spent her days in Montego Bay like she used to. She met a couple of new men, though she strangely never met any men from U.S., Canada or Europe. One was from Brazil and the other was from South Africa. Memory of her past men faded away as time passed, but she kept remembering about the guy she met. Then, one day, it suddenly occurred to her that he was different from anyone she met in her life. He genuinely believed in the idea of hope and dream; he believed that there were wonderful things like love, romance and beauty in this world. In the end, he had a false sense of love toward her, but he developed that feeling because he believed these ideas were not figments of imagination. That was one thing about him very different from those she met in life up to then. He was not a saint, but he was not a spiritual degenerate, either. It was because he was naïve given his age and inexperienced but also because that was his nature. In the end, he was just playing with her, though he believed otherwise because of his naiveté; he was going to remember about her less and less, and in a couple of months, he would look for another girl; he might even believe that the new girl would be the love of his life because he would still be rather naïve then. But she knew that he would still believe that the world was a fine place; he was not cynical or perverse. He was not a man of optimism, but she knew that he would always hold onto the idea of hope and dream. She did not intend to become a different woman now, but she wanted to make, having ‘hopes’ and ‘dreams’, a part of her. That moment did she decide that she would leave here in the not too distant future; there was not much else left for her to do. Many said that it was a beautiful island; she did not disagree, but to her, this was a place that she could not believe in the idea of hope and dream. That was why she decided to leave.
Short Stories (Fiction) | 30.06.2007 14:00 | No Comments
5. New York City
Though something in Mary Anne had changed forever, she didn’t start acting like a different person all of a sudden. Besides being able to make use of her sexuality from time to time, she also had great tactical skills; she never committed crimes, but she did not mind using other people, in particular, men’s money, power and connections, to get what she wanted and that was exactly what she did next. She used the next man she met; she asked him to take her to Kingston, the capital of Jamaica and spend time together. If she wanted to do something in her life, Montego Bay was not the place; Kingston was the happening place, and it was also the place where she could figure out how to get out of here. Once she arrived there, she made excuses like going see her old friend, going see her aunt and spending a couple of hours alone just because she wanted to do these things in order to make time for her alone during the day. She stopped at a couple of model agencies and she got lucky. One agency was just looking for a model looking like her. She was hired on the spot. Once she got the job, she told her man to give her some money for shopping; she never asked a lot of money straightforwardly before, but she needed it this time, so she asked. She did that very well and he just gave her a thousand dollars; he had to stop at a couple of places to get the money in cash, but he didn’t seem to mind. She just kept it and waited for him to leave Jamaica to go back home; once he left, she used the money to rent an apartment for herself and started working as a model. The apartment was small, but it was sufficient. After she worked as a model for six months in Kingston, she got a big break. Her agency asked her to fly to New York and stay for a couple of weeks there for photo shoots for a new apparel brand. She said, “Yes.” The agency managed to get her the passport and a temporary work visa. As far as she was concerned, the visa was as good as U.S. permanent residency. She arrived in New York, stayed at a hotel and worked for a couple of weeks as planned so that there wouldn’t be any hard feelings between her agency and her; after the photo shoots, she skipped the return flight. She had some money saved for this occasion and she also did some homework before she left home; she contacted a couple of people prior to the trip and found a connection in the city. Her friend’s uncle owned a small restaurant in Queens. She obtained the address before she left, and right after the photo shoots, she went straight to that place. Her friend’s uncle, the owner of the place, was not hiring any new waitresses, but he understood that she needed a job. She became a waitress there he kindly arranged a room for her. In a couple of weeks, she got to know several people; one of them was Mary Parker and she became a good friend of hers. She borrowed her credit card, ATM card and went to a bank. She told a banker that she married recently and that was why her IDs, except for her passport that was issued very recently, had a different last name “Parker”. She also told that she decided to not to add her middle name “Anne” when he made her credit card and ATM card but she just wanted to add that this time. She also made up her social security number but the banker didn’t bother to verify. The banker felt a little uneasy but he just opened an account for her because, the more accounts he opened, the faster he would get promoted. She knew that; she also smiled pleasantly to create easy atmosphere. He gave her a new bank account number and a personal checkbook the same day. In time, she got herself her own credit card and ATM card. With those two and the fake social security number, she got a job at a clothes store several months later; the store manager didn’t bother checking her passport or her visa. She was on a proper payroll this time, and she got herself a tax paper within a year. Now did she have three different IDs, the credit card, ATM card and the tax paper; she also had the social security number. The number was a fake, but it worked; she appreciated the faulty ID system in U.S. because that was why she was able to make up something like a social security number so easily. She started going to a driving school and she got herself a New York Driver License three months later. She looked just like a U.S. citizen with that. In U.S., the driver license was the ultimate ID, not the passport or the green card. But she wanted more; she could stay in U.S. as long as she wanted with the driver license, but she wanted to see the world. She used her charm and found a guy to marry her six months after she got the license. Once she got married, she told her new husband how she got her IDs except for the passport, the only genuine ID. He did not get upset about it; there were many others like her in New York, and his new wife happened to be one of them. He arranged an immigration lawyer for her to sort it out, and the matter was sorted out within a year. Since he was a U.S. citizen, Mary Anne Rose became a U.S. permanent resident three years later.
Something like this happened everyday in U.S. It was conventionally believed that U.S. was a developing country, but loopholes in ID system, so to speak, were everywhere. If one had the will, it wasn’t difficult for her to take advantage and become a legitimate citizen given time. After all, ancestors of many, if not, most of, current U.S. citizens went through similar processes, so it was a fair game as far as she was concerned.
She got what she wanted, but her marriage had no passion at that point. Though her husband was not having an affair, she knew that he was genuinely interested in the office manager at his office; she met her once, and she was fairly attractive. She was a genuinely nice person, and she could tell that Roy, her husband and she were attracted to each other; they seemed like they were made for each other. Mary Anne casually suggested that Roy and she get divorced; he did not get emotional about it and took care of all paperwork to get that done timely. He felt a little sadness but he also knew that the marriage was over. He also knew that the marriage was really for Mary Anne to get U.S. permanent residency legally; she got it, so he decided to move on. He thought, “If nothing else, I gave her a new life.”
Short Stories (Fiction) | 30.06.2007 13:59 | No Comments
6. Finishing Mocha
Mary Anne’s divorce was finalized four months ago. Funny thing was that she felt like a proud U.S. permanent resident now. She essentially came here as an illegal immigrant; she found a way to stay in the country nonetheless. But she didn’t steal or cheat for the most part; she worked and made her living honestly for the most part. She also experienced one divorce now just like many other fellow U.S. permanent residents. She felt that she belonged here.
- - - - - - - - -
Soon after the divorce, she decided to get a very different job from ones she had in the past. She had jobs like waiting for tables, making drinks as a bartender and selling cheap t-shirts and jeans at clothes stores. She decided to become a Ballroom Dance instructor this time. Getting this job was not very difficult; most Ballroom Dance studios gladly took beginners. Being under thirty and good looking definitely helped; they preferred young employees pleasing to the eye because that really helped the business. They just paid the minimum wage to new employees and gave training videos to them. Those who were skilled at dancing picked up Ballroom Dance fairly quickly and they generally grew to become competent instructors; those who could not become good at it quickly enough were more or less forced to leave. She was good at dancing before she came to New York; she was pretty athletic, too. After she came here, she took two dance classes a week on average to keep in shape; she took dance classes like Jazz, Modern and Hip hop. When she decided to start this job, she had sound foundation already. Her training program ended in two months; she kept practicing diligently and she got quite good at what she did given that she only spent four months so far. At the beginning, she was only making the minimum wage, but the pay structure was that she got commissions as she gave private dance lessons to students. Though she could improve her dancing skills still, she used her charm to get three students to take her private lessons from her. A lawyer, a chiropractor and an engineer turned engineering consultant. Each of them only took a couple of lessons a week from her, so she was still not making a lot of money, but she could see that she would be doing quite well financially a year from now. She would definitely be so much better at what she did, too; she would probably get a couple of more students and she would also teach more private dance lessons to her current students. They were all unattractive middle age men, but they all made good money; they could pay a lot more if they wanted to. She was still very attractive physically; she could continue using her charm for some years.
- - - - - - - - -
Mary Anne held the cup with her left hand and finished the remaining Mocha. She came to ‘JO’ just to take a little break today, but she felt more than just refreshed; her mind was so clear today. As she recalled what happened seven years ago and briefly recalled what had happened since then, she suddenly started feeling alive and wonderful. Not that she was unhappy before, but she felt that she had became a person who wasn’t full of cynicism; the idea of hope and dream was a part of her now. She also felt that there was something wonderful about meeting people, touching and feeling them; people were not there for her to just feel lust, to hassle or to get from one point to another. The guy that she met seven years ago was not saintly or holy, but having met him, she began to believe that there were wonderful things, places and people in this world. She did not think about life like that before she met him, but she believed that now. Churchgoers might not like how she met him or how she spent time with him, but she was not concerned about that. As far as she was concerned, that was a human touch; that was a human communication. And that opened up a whole new world for her. Conservative schoolteachers might despise how she got where she was today, but that was none of her concern. The world had become a place that she wanted to be in, explore and feel; that was all that mattered to her. She stood up, looked around, smiled and left the coffeehouse. As she went outside, it was still bright and sunny. She looked her watch; it was almost five in the afternoon, but it was late August, so the sun would not come down anytime soon. She decided to take a walk and started walking toward Central Park.
- - - - - - - - -
This was the ending of the story passed to the bartender.
Short Stories (Fiction) | 30.06.2007 13:58 | No Comments
7. Back At ‘75th & Amsterdam’
Almost a week later, the same man who passed the story to the bartender came back to ‘75th & Amsterdam’. It was shortly past 3:00 pm Saturday. The bar was not empty but there weren’t that many customers; though it was weekend, it was well over the lunch time and also a little too early to start having drinks. The bartender, Kristina, was supposedly working, but she didn’t have to pay a lot of attention to customers; they were just relaxing this afternoon and drinks and foods were already served. He assumed that she finished reading the story by now, so, as he approached her, he asked, “What did you think?” She apparently expected the question and answered, “It’s cute.”
”Ok.”
”The guy in the story …, it’s you, right?” said her as if she were chuckling.
”Yes, it is me.”
”How much of this is based on the real life event?” asked she, but as he was about to answer the question, she continued, ”I’ll take a guess. You met this girl a while back, right? But you don’t know what happened to her. So, up to the point you left her, that’s more or less based on what actually happened. The rest is based on your imagination.”
”That sounds about right,” smiled he.
”It’s a cute story.”
”The idea is this. I met her and spent a few days with her, but I’m kind of naïve so I’d like to think romantically, right? So, you know, I made it into this story.”
”Was she cute?”
”She was.”
”But not as cute as you,” announced he rather coolly.
”What’s her name?”
”Mary Anne Rose.”
”That’s a nice name.” She paused for a second and then asked, ”Do you have other questions?”
”About what you thought about this story?”
”Yeah.”
”Hah, not, really. I just wanted to know what you thought about it in general.”
”Ok. Do you want to show it to Grey?”
He put his index finger on his mouth as if he weren’t sure about it but said, “Yeah”. But he repeated and pronounced the same word clearly as if he decided that that’s what he was going to do. He continued, ”We’ll, Grey and I will, go catch a movie tonight and, uh, …”
”Stop by. I’m working here tonight.”
”Ok.”
”Having any drinks?”
”It’s only three in the afternoon.”
”It’s Saturday.”
”Ok … I’ll take Cider.”
As he drank the cider, he exchanged a few more words with her. And then, he left.
- - - - - - - - -
He and his friend, Grey, walked into the same place at around 9:00 pm. They just finished watching a movie and walked up here from the movie theater. There was some crowd at this hour, but they found two chairs at the bar and occupied them. Kristina was busy working but she found them and came to say hi and take orders.
”Hey, what’s up? What’re you having?”
”Guinness … and …,” he looked at Grey.
”I’ll Cider.”
”Are you having dinner tonight?” asked she.
”We’ll order something later,” said he, and as she went to fetch drinks for them, he started talking to Grey. ”Here’s the story I was telling you about. Kristina read it already, so you’re not the first reader, but I hope you don’t mind that.”
”No, no, I don’t mind that at all.”
”I wanted to know what she thought about it.” As Grey flipped a few pages, he continued, “I’m not a very social person, but I think that life, in the end, is about meeting people. It seems like this is a strange thing for me to say but, you know, I really think that.”
“Go on,” urged his friend.
”And there are romantic encounters here and there, right? And, you know, some encounters are … spontaneous, to describe nicely, and playful.”
”Right …,” asserted his listener.
”But when you look back those encounters, especially, ones you had when you were much younger, you’d like to believe that they were romantic encounters. I know that this has a lot to do with being young and naïve, but, you know, I think that this kind of naiveté gives you the sense of significance, meaning, in life.”
“Ok …”
”The idea of this story is to capture that.”
Grey paused for a second and said, “Let me read this, ok?”
”Are you reading this right now?”
”Yeah, why not? It’s not like I’m doing anything.”
She came back to them with their drinks; they ordered calamari because they figured that they’d be here for a little while and they should get an appetizer instead of ordering dinner right away. As they finished their first drinks and the food, they ordered another round of same drinks and dinner.
”Hey, it’s not bad.”
”Really?” asked her rather skeptically.
”Yeah. It’s not bad. Did you see this girl after you came back? Did you get in tough with her?”
”She wrote down her name and address on a piece of paper and gave it to me, but I lost it somewhere. I seem to remember that I sent a postcard to her, but … either it’s just how I’d like remember but I never sent any postcards, it didn’t reach here or she didn’t bother to write back to me.”
”But you still like her.”
”Yeah, I guess so. That sounds rather … silly, but I guess the answer is yes.” Then, there was a long pause. When they were about to finish the second round of drinks, Grey asked, “Are you going to the club in Upper East Side?” Their mutual friends and acquaintances were going to a certain club on Upper East Side; they both knew that, so he asked him.
”No, I don’t think so. I’m not really interested in meeting them tonight.”
”Ok. I’m going and I think I’m heading there after I finish this drink.”
”That’s fine.”
They both finished their drinks, paid the bill, exchanged a few words with Kristina and left. As they exited the bar, the man who wrote the short story asked his friend, “How you gonna get there?”
”I think I’ll take a cab.”
”Ok.”
In a few minutes, he found a cab, got in and left for Upper East Side.
Short Stories (Fiction) | 30.06.2007 13:58 | No Comments
8. A Few Blocks From The Bar
After his friend left, he stood there still and wondered where to go next; he had an idea but he could not make up his mind. But he decided and walked a few blocks there. He found ‘JO’ entered and ordered Mocha. He found the red couch unoccupied to his pleasant surprise; as his drink was served, he held its big cup, took a few steps to the couch and sat there.
He flipped pages of the story to scan it and then took out a pen. He started editing it to refine his memory.
Short Stories (Fiction) | 30.06.2007 13:58 | No Comments
Cricket is a sport played mostly in commonwealth countries. Indians are just crazy about it. You ask anyone what is the national sport of India? Pet reply will be Cricket, which is wrong. Hockey is actually the national sport but people hardly watch it nowadays. Indian cricketers are treated like gods in India. Cricket has become so popular that it has almost eaten all other games and sports. Everyone wants to become a cricketer. And despite this India’s performance in the recently concluded world cup was most shameful. They were eliminated in the first round itself. It is not that there is any shortage of quality players . The problem is that there is so much money involved in it now and because of that the selection is not fair. Instead of choosing the best team, they do it to please the bosses of BCCI, which is one of the richest sports bodies in the entire world. A note on cricket in India cannot be complete unless we mention that when there is a cricket match involving India, it is like a national holiday.
R.S.
India, Culture (India) | 26.06.2007 9:24 | No Comments