It's raining. I'm standing outside, just because I feel like it. There are quite a few of us out here--not as a group, but as individuals and pairs--along the diner's window. A strong, steady wind blows the rain across the sidewalk.
Spig and Little Mike are next to me, in the corner. It's rare to find both of them out of rehab at the same time.
LITTLE: Man, I don't know about you, man.
SPIG: What?
LITTLE: What's your address?
SPIG: Why?
LITTLE: I know what it is.
SPIG: So what?
LITTLE: So, I saw at your house, man, you had a upside-down "B" instead of a eight. (Long pause.) See what I'm saying?
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Friday, May 15, 2009
WORD #5
"The little hearts you painted on everything
Remained, like the track of your panic.
The splashes of a wound.
The spoor
Of the one that caught and devoured you."
--Ted Hughes, TOTEM
Remained, like the track of your panic.
The splashes of a wound.
The spoor
Of the one that caught and devoured you."
--Ted Hughes, TOTEM
OPEN
I'm sitting in a booth by the window. Most of the lunch-hour crowd is gone. Only a few of us remain, scattered through the diner. I hear Ev talking to someone in the booth right behind me.
EV: Not much going for him...But then, hey, look at me. I'm no prize either and I know it...Joey's nice, I guess. He's always been nice to me...And quiet. I like that. He doesn't say much, but whenever he does say something, he makes me laugh...So why not...I don't have anybody else. Anyone but you...You know what I mean...That's different. We're best friends. Friends are great. Especially best friends, like you. But they're not lovers...
There's something about the conversation that bothers me. I get up, head for the counter.
EV (cont.): I'm talking about growing to love somebody...Somebody nice...Someone who can get me out of here...
At the counter, I turn right, walk toward the hallway to the kitchen. I look back. Ev is dressed like she's going to church. She's still talking. And there's nobody across from her.
EV: Not much going for him...But then, hey, look at me. I'm no prize either and I know it...Joey's nice, I guess. He's always been nice to me...And quiet. I like that. He doesn't say much, but whenever he does say something, he makes me laugh...So why not...I don't have anybody else. Anyone but you...You know what I mean...That's different. We're best friends. Friends are great. Especially best friends, like you. But they're not lovers...
There's something about the conversation that bothers me. I get up, head for the counter.
EV (cont.): I'm talking about growing to love somebody...Somebody nice...Someone who can get me out of here...
At the counter, I turn right, walk toward the hallway to the kitchen. I look back. Ev is dressed like she's going to church. She's still talking. And there's nobody across from her.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
GONE
Wellesport Daily Record
April 29, 2009
OBITUARY
Edward Allen Brown, a lifelong resident of Wellesport, died April 27, 2009, at home surrounded by family and friends. He was 38.
Edward Brown was born August 4, 1970 at Lawrence and Memorial Hospital in New London, the son of late William and Margaret Brown. He was the eldest of two siblings.
Brown graduated in 1989 from Robert E. Fitch Senior High School in Groton. He married Ann Marie Pruitt on June 1, 2007.
He was preceded in death by his parents, William and Margaret Brown, also of Wellesport, and his younger brother, John.
He is surived by his wife, Ann Marie Brown, and son, Michael Allen.
Funeral Arrangements were entrusted to Leitner's Funeral Home. Visitation will be held on Thursday and Friday, April 30 and May 1, from 5-7 p.m. A mass will be celebrated at St. Michael's on Saturday, May 2, at 9:30 a.m. Interment will follow at Grace Memorial Cemetery.
April 29, 2009
OBITUARY
Edward Allen Brown, a lifelong resident of Wellesport, died April 27, 2009, at home surrounded by family and friends. He was 38.
Edward Brown was born August 4, 1970 at Lawrence and Memorial Hospital in New London, the son of late William and Margaret Brown. He was the eldest of two siblings.
Brown graduated in 1989 from Robert E. Fitch Senior High School in Groton. He married Ann Marie Pruitt on June 1, 2007.
He was preceded in death by his parents, William and Margaret Brown, also of Wellesport, and his younger brother, John.
He is surived by his wife, Ann Marie Brown, and son, Michael Allen.
Funeral Arrangements were entrusted to Leitner's Funeral Home. Visitation will be held on Thursday and Friday, April 30 and May 1, from 5-7 p.m. A mass will be celebrated at St. Michael's on Saturday, May 2, at 9:30 a.m. Interment will follow at Grace Memorial Cemetery.
Friday, May 1, 2009
PAYPHONE #1
Colin has been in love with the same woman for twenty-two years. The woman, called Jinx, has been married to someone else for nearly that long. After work, he comes in, orders a large black, sits at one of the tables and writes notes that he later reads to her over the phone.
It goes like this.
He stands at the payphone with the receiver in one hand, pad and pencil in the other.
JINX: Hello?
COLIN: If you dream that I am writing to you, read and believe what I have written.
Click.
Dial-tone...
It goes like this.
He stands at the payphone with the receiver in one hand, pad and pencil in the other.
JINX: Hello?
COLIN: If you dream that I am writing to you, read and believe what I have written.
Click.
Dial-tone...
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
RAY
Ray comes in alone. He eats the same way. People drop by looking for him--some even work up the nerve to approach his table--but he shows up by himself and leaves the same way.
Everything about Ray is trim. He dresses like a businessman on Casual Friday. He's always clean-shaven, hair and fingernails clipped. When he does smoke, which is rarely, it's long, thin, filtered cigarettes.
Ray listens hard and talks in a whisper.
People say he's done time, but when you ask what for, they don't want to comment.
He eats at a table-for-two by the wall. Nobody comes in after him tonight. When he's done, he peels a few bills off a roll from his pocket, then nods to Vy at the register and leaves.
Danny and Phil, a couple of low-level punks, eat at the counter. Once the door swings shut behind Ray, Danny glances over his shoulder.
"I'm only afraid of two people in this world," he says. "God and Ray."
"I don't think God's a person," Phil says.
Danny looks back again, then says, "I'm not sure Ray is, either."
Everything about Ray is trim. He dresses like a businessman on Casual Friday. He's always clean-shaven, hair and fingernails clipped. When he does smoke, which is rarely, it's long, thin, filtered cigarettes.
Ray listens hard and talks in a whisper.
People say he's done time, but when you ask what for, they don't want to comment.
He eats at a table-for-two by the wall. Nobody comes in after him tonight. When he's done, he peels a few bills off a roll from his pocket, then nods to Vy at the register and leaves.
Danny and Phil, a couple of low-level punks, eat at the counter. Once the door swings shut behind Ray, Danny glances over his shoulder.
"I'm only afraid of two people in this world," he says. "God and Ray."
"I don't think God's a person," Phil says.
Danny looks back again, then says, "I'm not sure Ray is, either."
Sunday, April 26, 2009
WELLESPORT
Wellesport, Wellesport
Such a pretty place
I love it most of all
When I am pretty, too
--Mary Ann McBride, UNTITLED #4
(Wife of then-Mayor Charles McBride)
Wellesport Daily Record
July 20, 1851
Such a pretty place
I love it most of all
When I am pretty, too
--Mary Ann McBride, UNTITLED #4
(Wife of then-Mayor Charles McBride)
Wellesport Daily Record
July 20, 1851
Saturday, April 25, 2009
THE LESSON
I overhear two guys I've never seen before talking in a booth:
--What's on your mind?
--I'm afraid I can't tell you that.
--Come on, man. You can tell me. We're friends, right?
--That's right. We're friends. And I know you well enough to know you like to learn things. Learn something new every day, right?
--Yeah? So?
--So, if I tell you what I'm thinking right now, it'll be the last thing you ever learn...And you'll be sorry that you learned it.
--What's on your mind?
--I'm afraid I can't tell you that.
--Come on, man. You can tell me. We're friends, right?
--That's right. We're friends. And I know you well enough to know you like to learn things. Learn something new every day, right?
--Yeah? So?
--So, if I tell you what I'm thinking right now, it'll be the last thing you ever learn...And you'll be sorry that you learned it.
Friday, April 24, 2009
I'M WALKING
I cut up Market Street to Church. I'm on one side of the street, Joey's on the other. He stops in front of the building where he lives with his mom and dad.
I sit in the entrance to the laundromat across from him, more tired than curious.
Joey picks a cigarette butt off the ground. He looks it over, sparks it with a lighter he takes from his pocket. He smokes it like a hundred-dollar cigar. When it starts to burn his fingertips, he chucks it, then goes inside.
Ev steps into view from the entrance to the building right next to me. She must have been waiting. I missed her because I was watching Joey. She probably missed me, too, for the same reason. She stands there, not ten feet away, hands in the pockets of her sweatshirt, staring at the door that Joey just went through. After a moment, she turns and goes running down the hill.
I sit in the entrance to the laundromat across from him, more tired than curious.
Joey picks a cigarette butt off the ground. He looks it over, sparks it with a lighter he takes from his pocket. He smokes it like a hundred-dollar cigar. When it starts to burn his fingertips, he chucks it, then goes inside.
Ev steps into view from the entrance to the building right next to me. She must have been waiting. I missed her because I was watching Joey. She probably missed me, too, for the same reason. She stands there, not ten feet away, hands in the pockets of her sweatshirt, staring at the door that Joey just went through. After a moment, she turns and goes running down the hill.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
MY SISTER IS A MOTHER
Ann comes in for breakfast with her baby, Michael, and her younger sister, Liz. Ann's about thirty but looks older, too thin, wearing the kind of sweatsuit you can only find for under ten bucks. Michael, in her arms, is chunky, red-faced and bored, in a diaper and t-shirt with a cartoon logo. Liz looks much younger than Ann, is chunky like the baby, and dresses, for any occasion, like she's going to watch a local speed-metal band.
As she is ordering breakfast for the three of them, Ann discovers that her husband has cleaned out her pocket book again. She asks if Liz can heat up a bottle for Michael while she runs to the ATM. Vy, the waitress on duty, says sure, why not. She asks me to go with them. I carry one of the creaky wooden high-chairs back for Michael.
It's dead right now. The cook, a Navy dropout called Ellis, has gone out back to sigh.
Ann starts the bottle in a dented steel pot, then leaves without a word. Kathy lights a cigarette and leans against the counter by the stove. Michael is across the room with me. He is redder-faced and glassy-eyed, staring at me, tugging at his shirt and diaper, like he's about to strip down and attack me Celtic Warrior-style.
Liz laughs, drawing his attention.
MICHAEL: Ba-ba.
LIZ: It's almost ready, Mike.
MICHAEL: Mikey ba-ba.
Ann comes back. She kisses her son, musses his sweaty hair.
ANN: What's a matter, baby?
MICHAEL: Ba-ba.
LIZ: He's hungry, like the rest of us. I thought you were going to the ATM?
Ann goes to check on the bottle--it's dancing in the pot.
ANN: I am. I had to go to the bathroom first. (She points at the bottle.) What are you doing?
LIZ: I'm fixing Mike's bottle. What does it look like I'm doing?
ANN: You're supposed to warm it up, not melt it.
LIZ: Excuse me...Why don't you just use your tits, like Mom did?
ANN: Lizzie.
LIZ (laughing): Look how healthy we turned out.
ANN: Don't talk like that in front of the baby.
LIZ: God...
Ann shrugs at me. I shrug back. She switches off the burner.
ANN: Alright, I'm going. Take that out and let it cool off for a couple minutes. Try it yourself before you give it to him.
LIZ: What!?
ANN: For crissake, Liz. On your arm. Squirt a little bit on your arm first. Just make sure it doesn't burn him, okay?
MICHAEL: Ba-ba.
ANN: I know, Michael. Auntie Liz is gonna get it for you.
Ann leaves again.
Liz puts the cigarette in her mouth, tries to pick up the bottle and scalds her fingers.
As she is ordering breakfast for the three of them, Ann discovers that her husband has cleaned out her pocket book again. She asks if Liz can heat up a bottle for Michael while she runs to the ATM. Vy, the waitress on duty, says sure, why not. She asks me to go with them. I carry one of the creaky wooden high-chairs back for Michael.
It's dead right now. The cook, a Navy dropout called Ellis, has gone out back to sigh.
Ann starts the bottle in a dented steel pot, then leaves without a word. Kathy lights a cigarette and leans against the counter by the stove. Michael is across the room with me. He is redder-faced and glassy-eyed, staring at me, tugging at his shirt and diaper, like he's about to strip down and attack me Celtic Warrior-style.
Liz laughs, drawing his attention.
MICHAEL: Ba-ba.
LIZ: It's almost ready, Mike.
MICHAEL: Mikey ba-ba.
Ann comes back. She kisses her son, musses his sweaty hair.
ANN: What's a matter, baby?
MICHAEL: Ba-ba.
LIZ: He's hungry, like the rest of us. I thought you were going to the ATM?
Ann goes to check on the bottle--it's dancing in the pot.
ANN: I am. I had to go to the bathroom first. (She points at the bottle.) What are you doing?
LIZ: I'm fixing Mike's bottle. What does it look like I'm doing?
ANN: You're supposed to warm it up, not melt it.
LIZ: Excuse me...Why don't you just use your tits, like Mom did?
ANN: Lizzie.
LIZ (laughing): Look how healthy we turned out.
ANN: Don't talk like that in front of the baby.
LIZ: God...
Ann shrugs at me. I shrug back. She switches off the burner.
ANN: Alright, I'm going. Take that out and let it cool off for a couple minutes. Try it yourself before you give it to him.
LIZ: What!?
ANN: For crissake, Liz. On your arm. Squirt a little bit on your arm first. Just make sure it doesn't burn him, okay?
MICHAEL: Ba-ba.
ANN: I know, Michael. Auntie Liz is gonna get it for you.
Ann leaves again.
Liz puts the cigarette in her mouth, tries to pick up the bottle and scalds her fingers.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Friday, April 17, 2009
EPSOM
The old guy is called Epsom because he once made the mistake of telling his friends he bathes in epsom salt. For some reason, they found this hilarious. He's been Epsom ever since.
He is eating at the counter with his nephew, Will. Will looks far too young to be Epsom's nephew. They're related through some convulted family mess that I don't care enough about to understand.
Epsom has a Reuben, the boy a grilled cheese.
Though neither of them has said a word the whole time I've been there, Epsom turns to Will and says, "Don't be redundant."
He is eating at the counter with his nephew, Will. Will looks far too young to be Epsom's nephew. They're related through some convulted family mess that I don't care enough about to understand.
Epsom has a Reuben, the boy a grilled cheese.
Though neither of them has said a word the whole time I've been there, Epsom turns to Will and says, "Don't be redundant."
Thursday, April 16, 2009
PLEASE (DON'T)
FOR A BAD TIME
CALL ***-2171
(Written inside a bathroom stall by the person who actually lives at this number)
CALL ***-2171
(Written inside a bathroom stall by the person who actually lives at this number)
Saturday, April 11, 2009
SOMEWHERE ELSE
Joey and Ev sit in a booth at the front of the diner. They are in the corner farthest from the door, to the left as you go in, last booth along the window. Ev sits with her back to the door, one leg bent with her foot on the seat. Joey is slumped across from her. They each have a chocolate milkshake and are sharing a plate of fries. It's a bright, cloudy day. Too much sun comes in the window.
Joey is a young man who lives with his parents on Market Street. He doesn't have anything going for him, but always seems busy nevertheless. He comes in with a different party every time. His clothes are fancy, loose and out-of-date, like he was dressed for the casket by a stranger.
Ev is a couple years older, maybe twenty-five. She has an apartment on Bridge Street. Ev's in and out of Norwich State, but nobody knows what's wrong with her. She wears a hooded sweatshirt, jeans and canvas sneakers. Even if she was standing alone in the middle of an empty parking lot, she'd look like she was trying to hide.
They don't say much and then fall into silence.
Joey nods off for a second.
JOEY (to himself): I thought heaven would be softer. (Ev laughs, raises a hand to cover her mouth. Joey's head snaps up. He looks around.) Who's there? Is someone there? (Ev continues to watch him from deep inside her hood.) Ev?
EV: Who else?
JOEY: Where are we?
EV (playfully): I don't know. Why? Don't you remember?
JOEY: If I could, would I be askin' you?
EV: Guess not. (She lowers her hand.) Does it matter?
JOEY: Not really.
Joey picks up a french fry, but doesn't eat it. He looks out the window. Ev leans forward, peeking out of her hood.
EV: Something wrong?
JOEY: Yeah, it does.
EV: Huh?
JOEY (tossing the fry back): It does matter.
EV: What are you talking about?
Joey takes his head in his hands, closes his eyes. Ev leans closer.
JOEY: I hate this place.
EV: What place? You don't even know where we are.
JOEY (louder, opening his hands): I hate this fuckin' city.
EV: Come on, Jo...
JOEY: I'm serious. I've had it. I'm gettin' the hell outta here.
EV: Where are you going? Everywhere's the same.
JOEY: No, it's not.
EV: Everywhere I've ever been.
Ev sits back in her seat. She looks hurt by his words, his sudden change of mood. Joey seems to soften as he watches her.
JOEY: I went to stay with my aunt once. My mother's sister, Pearl. Not her real sister. Her step-sister or whatever. Anyway, she lived in this little house on the beach...
EV: A cabana?
JOEY: No. A little house, like I said.
EV: Oh.
JOEY: I stayed there for a whole summer once, after fourth or fifth grade. School vacation. Man, that place was beautiful.
Ev is touched, moved almost to tears, not just by what he said, but because he has shared it with her--even if she doesn't quite believe him.
EV: What was it called?
Long pause.
JOEY (smiling): Summerland.
Joey is a young man who lives with his parents on Market Street. He doesn't have anything going for him, but always seems busy nevertheless. He comes in with a different party every time. His clothes are fancy, loose and out-of-date, like he was dressed for the casket by a stranger.
Ev is a couple years older, maybe twenty-five. She has an apartment on Bridge Street. Ev's in and out of Norwich State, but nobody knows what's wrong with her. She wears a hooded sweatshirt, jeans and canvas sneakers. Even if she was standing alone in the middle of an empty parking lot, she'd look like she was trying to hide.
They don't say much and then fall into silence.
Joey nods off for a second.
JOEY (to himself): I thought heaven would be softer. (Ev laughs, raises a hand to cover her mouth. Joey's head snaps up. He looks around.) Who's there? Is someone there? (Ev continues to watch him from deep inside her hood.) Ev?
EV: Who else?
JOEY: Where are we?
EV (playfully): I don't know. Why? Don't you remember?
JOEY: If I could, would I be askin' you?
EV: Guess not. (She lowers her hand.) Does it matter?
JOEY: Not really.
Joey picks up a french fry, but doesn't eat it. He looks out the window. Ev leans forward, peeking out of her hood.
EV: Something wrong?
JOEY: Yeah, it does.
EV: Huh?
JOEY (tossing the fry back): It does matter.
EV: What are you talking about?
Joey takes his head in his hands, closes his eyes. Ev leans closer.
JOEY: I hate this place.
EV: What place? You don't even know where we are.
JOEY (louder, opening his hands): I hate this fuckin' city.
EV: Come on, Jo...
JOEY: I'm serious. I've had it. I'm gettin' the hell outta here.
EV: Where are you going? Everywhere's the same.
JOEY: No, it's not.
EV: Everywhere I've ever been.
Ev sits back in her seat. She looks hurt by his words, his sudden change of mood. Joey seems to soften as he watches her.
JOEY: I went to stay with my aunt once. My mother's sister, Pearl. Not her real sister. Her step-sister or whatever. Anyway, she lived in this little house on the beach...
EV: A cabana?
JOEY: No. A little house, like I said.
EV: Oh.
JOEY: I stayed there for a whole summer once, after fourth or fifth grade. School vacation. Man, that place was beautiful.
Ev is touched, moved almost to tears, not just by what he said, but because he has shared it with her--even if she doesn't quite believe him.
EV: What was it called?
Long pause.
JOEY (smiling): Summerland.
WORD #1
"Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone; therefore we must be saved by love."
--Reinhold Niebuhr
--Reinhold Niebuhr
Friday, April 10, 2009
BRIDEY'S
Bridey's All-Night Diner is located at 1401 Church Street in Wellesport, CT. It has been in continuous operation there since 1946. Nothing inside has changed since it opened. Bridey's overlooks the mouth of the Thames River. From the sidewalk, you can see the Gold Star Memorial Bridge, part of the train bridge underneath it, the New London skyline and bits of Long Island Sound.
I rent a room across the street, on the second floor of the Riverview Hotel, kitty-corner to the entrance. Although I have a place to crash, I am a bum. I live off anyone and anything I can. When I'm not sleeping, or wondering why I can't sleep, I hang out at Bridey's. Sometimes they pay me for helping out. Sometimes I pay them for the food I eat. While I'm over there, I hear people talking...
I rent a room across the street, on the second floor of the Riverview Hotel, kitty-corner to the entrance. Although I have a place to crash, I am a bum. I live off anyone and anything I can. When I'm not sleeping, or wondering why I can't sleep, I hang out at Bridey's. Sometimes they pay me for helping out. Sometimes I pay them for the food I eat. While I'm over there, I hear people talking...
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