Write On The Edge

A funny thing happened on my way home from school...

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Sat, 28 Jan 2012 02:32:00 +0000

I dropped some promotional materials for LFTL off at my son's school this morning. A few signed posters, a stack of bookmarks, and a signed copy of the book. Gave them to the librarian along with my card and went on my merry way. Ok so it was early, so I wasn't incredibly merry, but I went on my way nonetheless :)

About an hour or so later, as I was with my mom at the hair salon and email came in from the librarian with this picture! In under two hours they had created this amazing display in the library!

I am so humbled and thankful to be part of such an amazing, incredibly supportive community. Thanks guys!!

News and Events

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 04:29:00 +0000

I've added a new tab up top to house press releases, news, upcoming events, announcements, etc. After they're announced on the blog they'll be added to that page so you don't have to scroll through wads of posts to find out what's new and exciting!

Like today, I was picking up my son's medications in the drive through at the pharmacy (I love drive through anything...especially in the winter!). The woman at the window says to me "You're the one who wrote that book, right? The one that was in the paper!"

I said "Excuse me?"

Apparently a blurb appeared in the local section of the Sunday paper. Today was Thursday. I never even read my Sunday paper this week - it went out with Monday's recycling, so I headed across the street to the library. Sure enough, there it was!

I guess I can forget going to buy milk in my pajamas now... Crap. I really got a kick out of that too... Oh who cares?

Besides, they're more like yoga pants...

Contest Winner Announcement!

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 13:19:00 +0000

Congratulations to Josh from San Diego, who correctly answered the trivia question and has won a free signed copy of Letters From The Ledge!

Question: What school does Brendan's father want him to attend?
Answer: Wharton School of Business

Thanks to everyone who participated! Stay tuned for more prizes and giveaways~

truly. (Part 27)

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 15:21:00 +0000

If you're new to this blog, this book's journey begins here...

truly. (Part 27)

Some time in the middle of the night I woke up. There was light in the room but it was dim and down low, like the running lights along the aisle on a redeye. I had no idea what time it was, but for the first time since I’d woken up on that backboard I felt awake and relatively calm. In the quiet of the night, with dad snoring just a few feet away, I could finally think a bit. I tried – really tried – to remember the events of that night but it was gone. All I could picture was Finn crawling toward the fire. Finn lying in a bed a lot like mine somewhere else in that hospital.

My joints felt stiff and heavy, but I knew better than to try to move, and found that if I laid perfectly still, I could just concentrate on breathing and thinking and it worked out pretty well. For a while, anyway.

It wasn’t long before a nurse showed up. Then a phlebotomist. Then a guy toting a portable x-ray machine. I almost hit the ceiling when they had to sit me up and move me enough to put that cold hard plate behind my back. The pain was excruciating. By five the nurse was back with a pain shot, but not before all the commotion had woken up dad. He was used to being up early, but he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days.

“Dad?”

He rubbed his face a few times. “Yeah.”

“You look a lot more tired than just a bad night’s sleep in a hospital room. Are you ok?”

“Are you saying I’m getting old?”

“I’m worried about you.”

“Yeah well, look who’s talking” was his only reply.

He was right. My frazzled hair was damp with perspiration from the combination of sleep and pain and exertion.

Another round of vital signs and assessments, then suddenly the room filled with about twenty people – doctors, nurses, interns, residents and God knows who else. They all reiterated my condition as if I were an item on a menu. “Today we’ve got Truly. She’s got a broken drumstick with a side of freshly cracked ribs, slightly charred and glazed with sweat.”

They all seemed to know a lot more about my case than I did though, so I listened carefully. They expected me to be in the hospital for at least a week, maybe two depending on blood counts and infection. Dad sat in the corner and listened as well. He seemed somehow relieved to hear from a group of actual doctors that I wasn’t actually dying.

I heard one of the medical students tell the girl standing next to her that my boyfriend was still critical in the burn unit ICU. They shook their heads and made that girly “aww” face like we were some tragic story that belonged on the big screen.

They checked my incisions and asked me questions about my pain and mobility. I told them that while the pain was substantial, I’d rather not get knocked out so hard every time I needed something. They said during the day I could have something a bit lighter with the stronger meds for night time. At least they listened.

They also said I wouldn’t likely be able to stay by myself with that enormous cast on my leg. The thought was perplexing but we’d have to cross that bridge later. At the moment I wasn’t planning on leaving Finn.

The day shift nurse showed up shortly thereafter and tried to interest me in some breakfast. A lovely selection of juices, teas and jello were on the menu for my dining pleasure. I told her to leave the tray and I’d work on it. God I hated jello.

“You want some help with that?” Dad offered, after the nurse left.

“If you could just get the tray over to where I can reach everything.”

As I mentioned before, dad was surprisingly adept at all things hospital. He even knew how to raise and lower the bedside table and roll it under the bed just right so it didn’t bang into the frame. He had me set up in no time, then told me that while my feast looked really appetizing, he needed to go visit the cafeteria, and maybe find someplace to take a shower. He’d packed a bag but it was in the car.

“Besides, yesterday was Sunday and I missed our eggs and bacon.”

“But this isn’t a week I would have usually come.”

“I know that.” He paused in the doorway. “But I miss it every Sunday that you’re not there.”

When dad left the room I pushed the tray back away from my chest. Any appetite I had was gone. I felt sick all over. And disgusting. I pushed the call button and the aide came in carrying an armful of towels, washcloths and sheets.

“Did you read my mind?”

She just smiled. Her name was Nita, and she was a big, thick woman who looked like she could pick me up with her two pinkies and do pushups with me over her head. She closed the door and pulled the curtain (in case dad came back) and got to work with some warm soapy water and the gentlest of hands that completely betrayed her gruff-looking exterior. When she was finished I felt so much better. Except for one thing.

“Now, what are we gonna do with this hair?” Nita mused.

“Can you at least try washing it? Please?”

Nita smiled gently. “Of course I can do that. I was thinking more along the lines of a cut and style.”

“Know any hairdressers who make house calls?”

Nita shook her head. “Honey, I wish I did.”

I was glad she didn’t try to patronize me. I knew how awful it looked, I just had no way of changing the situation.

While she still had my head tipped back over the end of the bed I heard Kate’s voice at the door behind the curtain.

“Hello! Can we come in?”

I was fully covered in a fresh gown and blankets and all, but… who was ‘we’?

Nita looked at me and I nodded. “Come on in!” She said. “We’re just washing her hair.”

Kate pulled back the curtain. “Great!! Good morning sunshine!” Kate had always been a little too perky in the mornings. “How ya feelin’?”

I tried to tip my chin down so I could see her but Nita was still rinsing the soap out of my hair. “I’ve had better days, thanks.”

When my hair was in a towel Nita slowly raised the bed back up. Standing next to Kate was a woman I’d never met. “Truly? This is Kayla. The one I told you about. We went to PA together.”

“Hi.”

“Hello. I’m so sorry about your accident.”

“Thanks.” There was an awkward pause as she looked at my head in the towel. Kate must have told her about my hair. “So, you’re a dancer?”

“Dancing didn’t really work out for me. I broke my ankle and it never healed enough for me to dance on it like I used to. I had to change careers.”

“Which is why we’re here!” Kate gushed. She put her hands on my one good foot at the end of the bed. It was strange to think that because of my injuries, I couldn’t run away from someone, even if I wanted to, and for some reason the thought made me extremely nervous.

“Kayla is going to cut your hair!” Kate blurted.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, God be praised!” Nita said as she started cleaning up the mess we’d made with the bath.

“Kayla’s career change–it was beauty school! She works at a salon nearby and doesn’t have to be in until ten today so I asked if she’d come over here and cut your hair for you! It’ll make you feel so much better, I promise!”

I couldn’t figure out who was actually going to benefit the most – me or Kate, but it was probably a combination of the two. After all, they were the ones who had to look at me.

“Ok. Thanks so much for coming.”

Kayla addressed Nita. “Can you leave that headboard piece off for a little while?” Nita agreed and she got right to work.

I was already exhausted from the morning’s activities, but Kayla worked surprisingly fast, cutting off all the burnt parts and fashioning what was left into a short, sassy, Halle Berry-style supermodel cut. When they lifted the mirror to my face I was shocked, but so relieved. It actually looked kind of cute! I thought about Finn’s comments on my hair and realized there was nothing left to “hang down ‘round my shoulders” now. It couldn’t be helped of course, but I began to mourn the loss of the one feature I knew he liked about me.

Kayla left for work and Kate managed to get the headboard back on, then took a seat next to my bed.

“Kate. There’s something I need to tell you before my dad comes back.”

She leaned forward. “What? What is it?”

“Can you lower my head down? It really hurts sitting all the way up like this.”

“Sure honey.” She did as I asked then sat back down.

“The night Finn and I went on our date.”

“Yeah?”

“Christopher showed up.”

“What?! When?”

“After you left but before Finn came to pick me up.”

“What happened?”

“When the knock on the door came I thought it was you. I thought you were coming back for your bag.” Kate was staring at me. “So I opened the door.”

Kate’s eyes went wide. “You did not!”

I nodded, embarrassed. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Kate was shaking her head. “And?”

“And he was drunk. And I was all…dressed up in that beautiful dress. So he kept coming at me.”

“Jesus, what did you do?”

“I got around him and opened the door to the hallway and yelled at him to get out. My neighbor and his wife heard the commotion and came over to see if I needed any help.”

“Oh thank God!”

“You’re tellin’ me.” I sighed. “When Finn got there I was still shaking. And I threw up in the bathroom and he came in and helped me.”

“Then what?”

“He just held me. Said we didn’t have to go and offered to order in. He was great. But that dress cost a fortune and we’d spent all that time getting me ready and I still wanted to still go so we left anyway. Now I wish to God I could take it all back. I wish we’d stayed in.”

“Don’t say that! You weren’t the one driving that limo! This is not your fault!”

“Well it sure feels like my fault.”

“You can’t blame yourself Truly.”

“Can’t I?!" I started to cry again. I swear to God I'd cried more since I met Finn than I had my entire life. "Finn is in an ICU somewhere with burns because of me! Why couldn’t he have just let me die in the fire!”

Kate was horrified. She stood up and towered over me. “Are you kidding me right now? You need to snap out of this Little Debbie funk before I kick the shit out of you! You’re alive because of that man. And you’d better be damn thankful for it. And don’t turn it around like it’s something you did wrong. Someone else fell asleep on the job and he died for it and nearly cost both of you your lives as well. It was an accident Truly! Repeat after me: ac-ci-dent!”

I stared up at her. I was so mad I wanted to storm out of the room and slam the door, but I was stuck. Stuck in that stupid bed with a thousand pound weight strapped to my leg.

“Yeah, well that’s easy for you to say isn’t it? You’re not laying here wondering what just happened to your entire life! You know the first three days I was here they didn’t even know my name?! My purse is gone, my identity is gone, my leg is shattered–I can’t even live by myself for who knows how long– and Finn could die because of me! Do you even get that?!”

By that point I was yelling and if felt like my ribs were going to rip a hole in my chest. I was clutching my side and the nurse came in to see what was going on. "Hey let's just take it easy, Truly. You need to stay calm. Let me get you some pain medication."

Kate looked at me. She looked at the nurse. “I gotta take a walk.”

Contest

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 18:24:00 +0000

Ok while y'all are waiting for Truly, I have decided to post a contest!

The first person who can correctly answer this question will win a free signed copy of Letters From The Ledge!!

Question:

What school does Brendan's father want him to attend?

Email answers to:

trivia@lettersfromtheledge.com

The first correct answer to hit that inbox will win a signed copy of the book!

Be sure to include your mailing address so we know where to send the FREE BOOK!

Good luck!!

truly. (Part 26)

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 12:27:00 +0000

If you're new to this blog, this book's journey begins here...

truly. (Part 26)

It wasn’t long – or at least, it didn’t seem that long, before I woke up to find dad sitting next to me, holding my hand. He looked a bit ragged, and older than I remembered him.

The thought occurred to me that he’d been aging all along and I’d just missed it, as if at twenty-five too much of my life had gone by without my noticing. The realization was painful, but not as painful as the throbbing in my leg. A push of the button would send me straight back into dreamland, but I needed to talk to dad first.

“Hey peanut.” He smiled tenderly, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. Dad hadn’t called me peanut since I was about six. I was pretty small for my age and dad found this annoyingly cute. I, on the other hand, always hated feeling small.

“When did you get here?” I tried in vain to reposition. The twisting movement sent shards of glass up through the left side of my abdomen. I grunted with the exertion, and began sweating again, trying to breathe through the pain.

Dad got up to retrieve a cool washcloth from the sink. He placed it on my forehead and took my hand again. So natural, as if he’d done it a thousand times. How many nights he must have sat by mom’s bed, trying to provide some small comfort, knowing full well that no amount of comfort would stay the tide of loss that crept steadily toward our shore.

I hardly ever saw him with her in the hospital, because we mostly took turns. I was there when he was at work and he was there when I was asleep or doing homework or laundry or grocery shopping or any number of other things I did to try to pick up the slack in our lives.

I stared up at him. In all honesty I hadn’t spent much time thinking about how mom’s loss had affected him. After Jenny died, dad was all I had left, but I guess I’d never realized that I was all he had left too, and for some reason, today, it scared him. I could see it like a ticker tape across his face; the fear running in circles around his head.

Was I worse off than Becky had let on? Or was he still in shock from being summoned to a hospital in New Haven not knowing what he’d find on arrival? He’d been summoned the night Jenny died, and mom too. I’d been with each of them when it happened, but he’d missed it both times, being called in only after the fact.

“I just got here. Maybe a half hour ago.” He managed.

“Is it still Sunday?”

“Yeah, peanut. It’s Sunday. Barely though. It’s about 11:30.”

“What about work? You’ll never get enough sleep to drive back in time.”

“I’m not going to work tomorrow.”

I took a minute to digest that information. It made sense, but dad making sacrifices for me seemed like a juxtaposition. “Where will you sleep?”

“Nurse says that chair in the corner folds out to a twin-sized bed. She brought me some blankets. I’ll be just fine. Don’t you worry about me.”

I glanced over at the chair. Sure enough it was piled high with pillows, sheets and blankets.

Just then Kate came running into the room, obviously out of breath. “Oh my God, Truly! Are you ok?” She slid to a stop when she saw the huge cast on my thigh. Then she just started staring at my head. “Oh, sweetie…” She crossed to the other side of the bed and stood fingering my hair. “What the hell happened?”

Dad’s eyebrows went up. “Yeah, I’d like to know that too. They wouldn’t tell me a whole lot.”

My eyes went wide. “What?! But you’re my father!”

“I know, but you’re not a child anymore. You’re an adult, and apparently you get to say whether or not they can talk to me about your medical condition.”

Although I continued to act surprised, the thought was somehow comforting, knowing that some things were still within my control. “Finn and I were coming back from our date when the accident happened.”

“Finn? The one from the Yankees game?” Dad was nearly grinning remembering the story.

Kate was shaking her head. “Wait. Your date was in New Haven?” She decided she’d better take a seat for this story.

I smiled sheepishly. “Actually the date was in Hartford.”

She folded her arms. “What, there weren’t any good restaurants in Manhattan?”

You had to love Kate. She and I were so similar.

“That’s what I thought at first. But this restaurant was one of a kind. He took me to the Mark Twain house.”

“Mark…Twain? As in the writer?” Kate was obviously perplexed.

“Yes.”

Dad was just sitting there with his eyebrows still up. “The one whose books you’ve read a million times? Isn’t he dead?”

I looked at him. “Yes. Yes, he’s dead. Of course he’s dead. But his house is a museum now and it has this awesome Japanese restaurant in it and–”

“Wait a minute.” Kate put her hand up to interrupt. “That’s what we got you all gussied up for? The Mark Twain house?”

I nodded, trying to keep the smile from my lips, but it was no use. Kate could see I was smitten, and she laughed out loud, then looked at my hair again and stopped short. “I’m sorry. This isn’t funny. Not at all. We can talk about the other stuff later. Please – go on.”

“What other stuff?” Dad wanted to know.

I looked over at his puzzled face. “Girl stuff. Don’t worry about it.” I grimaced. All this talking and moving my head from side to side was exhausting.

Kate looked me over. “Honey, just get to the part about the accident. What happened after the date?”

“I don’t really know. We were in the limo, and–”

“Limo?” Dad ran his fingers through his hair as if he’d have to meet Finn any minute and was somehow afraid he wouldn’t measure up. I thought of his blue shirts with the stains and the constant grease under his nails and his couple of beers to make it all go away. A hole opened up in the deepest pit of my stomach, and the pain I felt had nothing to do with broken legs or stitched up spleens.

“–The driver fell asleep at the wheel.”

Kate’s face fell. “Oh no…”

“I’d fallen asleep as well, so when I woke up I was strapped to a backboard.” Dad’s hand squeezed mine even tighter. “I only know what they’ve told me though. I don’t remember any of it. Apparently the car rolled down an embankment and hit a tree.”

Kate’s hand went to her mouth. “Oh my God.” She looked pointedly at my hair. “And it caught fire.”

I nodded.

Kate’s eyes filled with tears.

“The driver’s dead, Kate.”

“No…” She started shaking her head. “Finn?”

“He’s alive. But he’s in the burn unit.”

I watched dad’s head hit his chest. Tears were running freely down Kate’s cheeks but I was surprisingly calm, despite the excruciating pain in my leg and ribs. It took everything I had just to keep from pushing that call bell and slipping back into oblivion.

I jiggled dad’s hand until he looked up at me again. “He saved my life, dad. He pulled me out.”

I watched dad’s face as understanding dawned. He looked back over his shoulder as if he needed to go see Finn. To thank him for saving me. When he looked back at me his eyes were glassy and damp. “I think I’d like to meet this Finn some day.”

“I’d like that too dad, but he hasn’t woken up yet.”

Kate looked at me. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He has swelling in his brain, and a shattered ankle, and burns on his back.”

“Swelling from what?” Kate asked.

“I don’t know. They think he hit his head when he was thrown from the car.”

“Then how did he manage to pull you out?” Dad wondered.

I shook my head. “I don’t really know. He must have been awake at first.”

Dad rubbed his hand across his stubbled face. “And now he’s in a coma?”

“The nurse said they’re keeping him sedated on purpose, because of the swelling in his brain. I don’t understand that part, and I don’t know anything else.”

Kate leaned back and closed her eyes.

“You must be exhausted, Kate. Unfortunately dad’s taking the only bed in the room, but I don’t really think you’ll be missing much.”

“Oh don’t worry about me. I’m staying with a friend.”

“Who?”

“A girl I went to school with. Turns out her apartment is only about three blocks from here.”

I looked at her. “You shouldn’t walk the streets this late.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Dad sat up a little straighter. “I’ll walk you to her place and then just come back here.”

“Thank you, really, but I’ll be–”

“You don’t get to argue on this one.” Something in dad’s tone left no room for discussion. Maybe it was Finn’s heroics or Jenny’s getting jumped in the dark or the near miss of losing me. Whatever it was, the conversation was over and Kate sensed it.

“Ok. Thank you.”

Dad nodded with some satisfaction.

Kate fingered my hair again. “We’re going to do something about this. Don’t you worry.”

I shook my head, thinking about Finn. My frazzled hair would be cut and then grow again. No one would ever have to know I almost went bald in a fire. Finn, on the other hand, if he survived, would carry scars on his back for the rest of his life. A debt I could never repay, and neither could my father. The thought caused me to shudder and the shudder caused me to cry out in pain as a tight band of spasms gripped my abdomen. I could deal with the leg pain by limiting my movements, but the side was another story entirely.

“I really need to just lay here and be still. I might even ask for some more pain medication.”

Kate kissed me on the forehead. “It’s ok. I’m going to go to Kayla’s place and get some sleep. I’ll be back first thing in the morning, ok?”

“Sure. Thanks Kate.”

She waved me off. “Are you kidding me? What are friends for?”

She nodded to dad and he got up and slipped into his coat. After they left I wondered about that–about what friends are for. They were for hospitals and haircuts and picking out dresses. But they weren’t for pulling you out of a burning vehicle. No, that was another class entirely.

3-2-1 Contact!

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Sat, 14 Jan 2012 01:05:00 +0000

Had fun attending an event at Barnes and Noble recently. Some local celebrities were doing readings from The Book Thief and they had an artist on hand who drew pictures as the passages were being read. So fun!

It was fun to meet some new people, including the staff at Barnes and Noble. I was able to drop off some bookmarks, and got to talk to the store manager about Letters From The Ledge. They'll be having an author's event in April that I'll get to be a part of, so stay tuned for event dates and times!

truly. (Part 25)

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Sun, 08 Jan 2012 20:19:00 +0000

If you're new to this blog, this story's journey begins here

truly. (Part 25)

I looked at Becky. “Excuse me?”

“All your personal effects were destroyed in the fire.”

“You mean my purse?”

“Yes.”

I glanced at the spine of the chart she’d set on the bedside table. Sure enough, it read: Doe, Jane. I could hardly believe what she was telling me. “Truly.”

“Yes, truly. I wouldn’t joke about something like this.”

I shook my head. “No. My name. It’s Truly. Well – actually it’s Trulane.”

She picked up my chart and started scribbling the information as I gave it to her. “Are you sure?”

I raised my eyebrows. “That I know who I am? Yes. I’m sure. Would you like to know my social security number?”

“Absolutely! Whatever information you can give me will help us get started, Trulane.”

I put my hand on Becky’s arm. “Call me Truly. Please. I beg you.”

“Fair enough.” When I smiled Becky’s face melted into some combination of relief and camaraderie. “Truly.”

“Thanks.” I gave her my dad’s number, and Kate’s number too. She took them both and started to walk out of the room. “Becky?”

She turned and smiled. “Yes?”

“You said the driver was dead.”

She came back and sat on the edge of the bed. My heart was beating faster than my breathing could account for, but I had to know.

“Yes.”

“And I’ve got some pretty serious injuries, right?”

She nodded. “As you’ve probably figured out by now, you’re right leg was broken in several places. You’ve also got a couple of cracked ribs on the left, which caused some internal injuries. You had surgery a couple of days ago to fix the leg and to repair a tear in your spleen.”

“A couple of… days ago? What day is it today?”

“It’s Sunday evening.”

“I know this is going to sound silly, but…is this the first time I’ve been awake?”

Becky sighed. “Awake and coherent? Yes.”

“What was I before?”

She pursed her lips, trying to figure out what to call it. “Delirious.” She decided. “Although with good reason. We’ve had you on a considerable amount of pain medication.”

“Well I prefer to have my wits about me, so if you wouldn’t mind waiting until I ask for it next time?”

Becky only managed half a smile. “Well, you’ve been moaning a lot. And crying out.”

“I have?!” My face got hot. “What have I been saying?”

“Listen, why don’t you just rest now? We can talk more later.”

I grabbed onto her hand. Why wasn’t she telling me what happened? “What else was destroyed in the fire?”

She looked at me with steel blue eyes. “Are you asking about Finn?”

I swallowed. “How do you know his name and yet you didn’t even know mine? Was I calling out for him?”

She weighed her words carefully. “His wallet was in his pocket.”

I could barely breathe but somehow my mouth formed the words. “Is he dead too?”

She hesitated just long enough to give me hope. “No. He’s in a special Intensive Care Unit.”

I wrinkled my brow. “How bad is it?”

“We’re not sure. He hasn’t woken up yet.”

“You mean like a coma?”

Becky nodded. “Something like that.”

I swallowed again. Or tried to. My mouth was unbelievably dry. “Can I get something to drink?”

She reached for a little pink sponge and dipped it in some water. “Not yet, no. But you can swish this around your tongue and teeth. It should help a little.” Becky helped me clean my mouth. “He saved you, Truly.”

I looked up at her. “What?”

“He saved you.”

“I thought you said he was in a coma.”

“We’re keeping him very sedated. So it’s not a coma like you’re thinking. This one is on purpose.”

I tried to digest that information. Why would they chemically induce a coma in an otherwise healthy person? Unless they weren’t healthy…otherwise.

Becky just kept talking. “But they’ve done a thorough investigation at the scene over the last couple of days. The police say that his body was thrown from the vehicle during the rollover. Then it looks like he crawled back to the limo while it was burning and – well, he pulled you out.”

“He went in after me?” I was incredulous.

“You were so lucky, Truly. All you lost was your hair.”

“My hair?” I tried to lift my hand to my head but I couldn’t. It was tethered to the bed by the IV tubing. Or maybe it was just caught. “What’s going on? Why can’t I lift my hand?”

“Hold on.” Becky reached over and freed the tubing.

I reached up to my head and sure enough, I had about four inches of hair and then nothing but frazzled ends. “Oh my God.”

Becky laid her hand over mine. “That’s enough for today. Let me go make these phone calls for you.”

“No!” I insisted. “You can’t just drop that on me and leave! Tell me the rest – please!” I grabbed her hand. “I have to know.”

She glanced at my left hand. “Are you and Finn married?”

“No! No of course not!”

“Well, if you’re not related I really can’t give you infor–“

“I’m in love with him!” I blurted. I couldn’t believe I’d said that out loud. It was preposterous, of course, but it felt true enough. “And he saved my life, for God’s sake! Who saves the life of someone they barely know?”

Her demeanor softened, and she looked over her shoulder as if she was breaking the law or something. “He’s in the burn unit.”

My eyes filled with tears as I imagined Finn crawling toward a burning vehicle. On purpose. But not just on purpose. To save me…

Just then I heard a man’s voice coming from over Becky’s shoulder.

“Hey there beautiful!”

As Becky turned toward the voice, Finn’s father came into view. I thought of my hair, all frazzled and burnt. Beautiful, indeed. But how good I must look compared to…

“What are you doing here? I thought you were in Ireland?”

“I was. I’ve just come back.” Finn’s father extended his hand toward Becky. “Colin McCarthy. I’m Finn’s da.”

“They won’t tell me anything.”

Becky smiled and took his hand, then looked at me. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to follow the rules. The privacy laws are very strict.”

Colin looked at her. “Well, put her on the approved list, will you?”

I started to cry. After all Finn had been through, why was he being so kind to me?

He came over and sat down next to the bed, taking my hand between his. “There there, now. Don’tcha be cryin’ darlin’. It’s alright now.”

Becky nodded. “I’ll give you two some time.”

Colin nodded back. “Thanks.”

“How about some pain meds Truly?” Becky offered.

I shook my head, grimacing through my tears. The pain was substantial, but I needed my wits about me. “I’ll let you know.”

Becky looked back and forth between the two of us. “I’ll have it ready when you call. Just put your light on and I’ll know to bring it.”

“Ok. Thanks.” After Becky left I looked at Finn’s father and let the tears spill over. “Up until just now I didn’t even know your first name.”

“Well there you go then. Now you know.”

I squeezed onto Colin’s hand. “Tell me how he is. Please.”

“I’ve just come from sitting with him. He’s not awake yet.”

I nodded toward the door. “They said he’s in the burn unit.”

“Aye. He is at that.”

I blinked and tears ran down both cheeks. “Becky said he went in after me. Into the limo while it was burning.” Color crept up my neck. I was so embarrassed to still be alive, and so ashamed that I’d caused Finn pain.

“Aye.” He brushed my hair back and then wiped one of my cheeks clean with his thumb. Such a tender gesture from a man I barely knew. He was watching me and I could tell he was calculating the odds of giving me the whole truth.

“Colin, please. You have to give it to me straight. Is he going to live?”

“Well o’ course he is darlin’! He’s just got a wee bit o’ swelling in his brain right now.”

Swelling? “From what?”

“Hit his head somewhere along the way, maybe when he got thrown from the car, they aren’t sure.”

“And yet he had the wherewithal to crawl back toward the car and somehow free me from a burning vehicle?” It didn’t make sense. Unless he was somehow out of his mind already when he decided to go back for me.

“Near as they can figure he was awake for a few minutes after the accident. Had enough of his wits still about him to get the two of you pulled to safety before he lost consciousness.”

“How bad are the burns?”

“Could have been a lot worse. Mostly on his back, where he took the heat trying to untangle you from the car, and a good-sized gash on his head, but they’ve stitched that up now.”

I nodded, silently breathing a sigh of relief. I’d imagined him blackened from head to toe, somehow unrecognizable. This was better. Much better.

“Other than that a broken ankle is the worst of it. He had to have surgery to repair that and they put some pins in to stabilize the bones, but it should heal up just fine.” He smiled at me again. “Might make airport security a bit of a problem from now on.”

Colin winked then, as if the thought of Finn being frisked and scanned brought him some type of guilty pleasure, and I had to giggle. Did they have to put metal into me too?

“The nurse made it sound like he was dying.”

“Well, we’re not goin’ to think like that, are we now?”

I watched Colin’s face. So determined, yet concern was etched into his features.

I swallowed. “Could you hand me one of those pink swabs?”

He pulled one out of the water and gave it to me. My body was using up liquid way faster than they were dripping it into my arm, and my mouth felt like I’d been chewing cotton balls. As I lifted my hand to use the swab my whole left side knotted into a thick wad of tight pain and I cried out unintentionally.

“Are you alright? Let me call for the nurse.”

I shook my head but before I could protest too much he’d pushed the call button. I knew I had a limited amount of time to get the answers I needed. Once that pain shot hit I’d be lost in the haze again.

“But why, Colin? Why would he do that?”

“Do what darlin’?”

“Save me?”

“Well now, if you haven’t figured that out yet I’m not gonna be the one to tell ya.”

Becky came in and inserted a syringe into one of the ports on my IV tubing. I didn’t argue with her. I wanted to float away. I needed to float away. I didn’t know what to think, or even how to respond. I just laid there and watched a tiny air bubble ascend the tubing up into my arm.

“Will you come back and visit me again after I sleep a bit?” I was already starting to feel the effects of the drug. “There’s so much more I want to talk to you about…”

Colin’s face was kind as he nodded. “I’ll be around, darlin’.”

In my mind I was saying ‘thank you’ but in reality I’m not sure what happened exactly, because suddenly his face, and all my questions, faded into black.

SHHH!!!!

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 23:26:00 +0000

Ok, so if you were one of the lucky ones who was online during the scant 1/2 hour that the latest post for Truly was up, I need you to do me a favor and keep it quiet!!!!!!

I posted it and got immediate feedback that I had revealed WAY too much in one post, so I need to think about that and go back and do some rewriting. This is one of the wonderful and terrible things about posting a book in installments :) Sometimes a section that you WOULD HAVE gone back and reworked is all of a sudden out there for the world to see! And then you can pull it back out, but not before the cat's out of the bag, as it were. Ah, the beautiful infinity of the internet...

That said, can I please ask a huge favor of those of you who caught that sweet 1/2 hour window? Could you please refrain from revealing the details to the rest of them? I'm really not trying to tease you, I just want the book to be everything it should be.

I want to do it RIGHT, not just RIGHT NOW!

Thanks!

:)

truly. (Part 24)

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 23:55:00 +0000

If you're new to this blog, this story's journey begins here

truly.

(Part 24)

It was strange, being back in the limo after dinner, like a dream sequence had just ended and I was waking up in that weird, twilight sort of state. At the same time I felt drowsy and fuzzyheaded. As we settled in for the long ride back to New York, Finn took off his jacket and pulled me into his chest, where I promptly fell asleep.

I dreamed about my mother and Jenny. Horrible images went in and out of focus. There was blood everywhere. And pain. Tangible pain–as if I were bleeding to death instead of them. Then there was the vague, rhythmic flashing of the ambulance lights and the driver’s voice inside my head, yet somewhere in the distance. I could hear them on the radio, alerting the trauma team. I was reliving Jenny’s death, piece by piece, scene by scene. I wanted desperately to wake up, but I couldn’t.

In the dream I was screaming for them to leave us alone. I just wanted to hold Jenny in my arms for a few more minutes before she slipped away, but the voice just got louder and louder, pulling me to the surface of the pain until I just couldn’t take it anymore.

I opened my eyes and saw the lights flashing in the background. A man was standing over me, trying to get me to tell him my name. I reached for my purse and realized I was wrapped in blankets and strapped to a board. And I was cold. Really cold. My dress felt wet and sticky against my skin. Beyond the man’s face was a canopy of trees. Where was I? My head and chin were strapped to the board as well and I began to panic.

My eyes scanned toward the right and that’s when I saw it. Black metal, disfigured and burning. Burning?! Finn! My throat was parched and there was smoke and some other putrid smell making its way in around the mask I was wearing. Oxygen? My head was still fuzzy from the dream. Or maybe this was another dream? I couldn’t quite tell, but I felt myself being lifted into the air and when I was set back down the pain that shot through my right thigh was so intense and nauseating that the world went black again.

Next I woke up in a clean white room with bright lights. There was someone standing over me again, but this time he was wearing a blue facemask and telling me to count backward from a hundred. It felt like he was asking me to recite sixteen digits of Pi. I had so many questions. I didn't want to count. He smile was kind, as if he understood, and I fell back asleep before I could say ninety-nine.

Loss of consciousness is a tricky thing. If your lights go out all of a sudden, they certainly seem to turn back on one at a time. At first I thought I was in my apartment. Then I heard an unfamiliar voice talking to me and opened my eyes to find clean white sheets wrapped around me, so I knew I couldn’t be in my apartment. I hate white sheets. They remind me too much of hospitals. Hospitals!

I looked around, and sure enough, there was an IV hooked up to my arm and some oxygen blowing up my nose. At least the mask was gone. My right leg felt incredibly heavy, as if it was pinned to the bed by a piano or something. I was too weak to actually lift my head up so I inched my hand down the sheet until I felt hard plaster–or whatever material they make casts out of these days. It hurt to breathe on the left side of my chest, and my stomach felt swollen, like the skin was pulled too tight. I crept my hand up to my stomach and realized there was gauze and tape covering over it. My mouth felt dry. Too dry to speak, even though I wanted desperately to ask someone where the hell I was.

It wasn’t long before I got my wish. By some miracle I was still awake when a nurse came in to check on me. The room was dark and the drapes were drawn.

“Where am I?” I managed.

A cute young blond in blue scrubs smiled down at me. “Well! Look who’s awake!” She was way too perky for…well, whatever time it was.

“Where am I?” I repeated.

“New Haven.”

“New Haven?”

She set my chart down next to the bed and pushed a few buttons on the IV pump before smoothing her hand across the covers. “Yes. You’re at Yale-New Haven Hospital.”

Ok. So I was still in Connecticut, but…“Why?”

Blondie sat on the edge of my bed and looked at me. Her nametag read ‘Becky’ and she was weighing her words carefully. “What do you remember?”

This couldn’t be good. What was wrong? And why was I alone? What day was it? “I… I don’t remember much.” After all, this was only the third time I’d been awake since…Finn!

“What happened to Finn!” I tried to sit up. “Where is he?!” Becky tried to calm me down, but I was beginning to panic. She held my shoulders and tried to ease me back down toward the pillow. Pain shot up from my gut, then my leg, and my head began to throb. A sudden wave of nausea beat me and I dropped back against the pillow, a line of sweat breaking out across my forehead.

“Ok just lay back. I’ll answer your questions, but you have to rest.”

I let my breath out slowly, trying to control the shaking from the pain. “Why do I hurt so much?” I looked at her. “What’s wrong with me?”

“You were in a car accident. Do you remember? A limousine.”

I nodded as understanding dawned. Jenny’s dream was my dream. At least, partially.

“I just remember falling asleep on Finn’s chest. Then I woke up here.” It wasn’t exactly true. I remembered part of the ambulance ride, and a possible trip to the operating room, but I wanted to see what Becky had to say about it. For all I knew, those were part of the dream too.

“You weren’t the only one who fell asleep. The driver hadn’t been drinking, but the tracks suggested a slow drift toward the shoulder of the road. The limousine rolled several times down an embankment and hit a tree.”

I strained to remember details, but nothing was clicking.

“Is he alright?”

Becky averted her eyes. “When it hit the tree the car burst into flames. We think he died instantly, even before the fire.”

I remembered then. The black twisted metal. The terrible taste of smoke and that smell! That putrid smell! It was flesh burning…

My heart began to sink. I knew what was coming. It was “THE END.” The end of my fairy tale. I swallowed and closed my eyes. It was, of course, too good to be true, and I’d known as much, hadn’t I? I was just holding on for the ride. The long, breathtaking fall over that cliff had been so intoxicating and yet, I knew. I knew it would end.

Just like everything and everyone else in my life, Finn had been ripped away from me. I didn’t want to know what was wrong with my body. I was obviously broken but alive and it didn’t really matter. Not without Finn.

The darkness closed over my heart and I turned my head away. “Have you called my father?” The one person in my life who was still alive. Still warm.

“Sweetie? We don’t know your name…”

Paperback Edition - Pre Order Now!

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 16:54:00 +0000

(TO PURCHASE, CLICK THE YELLOW BUY NOW LINK AT THE TOP RIGHT COLUMN OF THIS PAGE)

Hi Everyone! Am expecting print copies (paperback) to arrive within the next two weeks! If you'd like to pre-order now I will be sending out signed copies to anyone who orders directly from me!

No need to attend a book signing or stand in line for hours waiting to get your copy autographed! I'll sign and ship them directly to you, and your payment is processed securely through PayPal with a PayPal account or any major credit card, made possible through Hallway 11 (the Publisher).

Pre - Order now and they will be shipped as soon as they arrive! If you provide your email address, a shipping confirmation will be emailed to you as soon as they ship. More ordering options will be available in the future.

Please Note:

If you would like an inscription that is personalized to include your name as well as the author's name, please email your request to: inscriptions@lettersfromtheledge.com

If no inscription is specified, books will still contain the author's signature, but won't be personalized to a specific individual.

Special Offer!

Book Clubs receive discounts on bulk orders shipped to the same address when ordered directly from this website.

Receive a 10% discount on 5 books or more shipped to the same address
All copies will be autographed by the author
Receive a free custom bookmark with every book ordered
All book clubs ordering 10 or more books will also receive a free, 30 minute video conference with the author.

More Dust, More Construction

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 02:03:00 +0000

Please, pardon the dust. There's a lot going on around here. Lots and lots of changes. The book's website is being tweaked, Facebook and Twitter are all being updated and streamlined for easier flow, and even this site isn't done with it's metamorphosis, so don't be surprised if you see a bunch of changes happening for the New Year! Repeat after me: CHANGE IS GOOD!

Oh and by the way? Truly's next installment is near completion! Just wait until you see what happens next!

E Store in the Works!

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Tue, 27 Dec 2011 01:09:00 +0000

We're in the process of setting up an eStore, and will soon be taking pre orders on signed copies of Letters From the Ledge directly from this site as well as the book's website.

I'll be offering personalized, signed copies for less than they will sell on Amazon.com and other distribution outlets! So stay tuned - it's coming SOON!!!

Nook Release!

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Mon, 26 Dec 2011 02:53:00 +0000

LFTL is up and for sale on Nook for the same great price of $2.99!

If you got a Nook or a Kindle for Christmas you can read it right now!

Print editions are set to release in the beginning of January!

Fan Video!

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Mon, 26 Dec 2011 02:48:00 +0000

Letters From The Ledge has a fan video! Some adoring fan has made their own trailer for the book! An official trailer is actually in the works, but this person captured the tone and themes really well!

Thanks Random Noise Studio for the shout out! Loving the converse - AND the airplane!

Where's truly.?

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Fri, 23 Dec 2011 00:18:00 +0000

I know that it's been a while since Truly's voice has been heard. We've all been a little preoccupied with the Letters From The Ledge release. Getting it on Kindle and Nook was one thing, launching paperback and hardcover versions are another thing altogether!

Truly and Finn's story has reached a critical point. I don't want to just throw something out there just to give you something to read. We're going to introduce some central themes and it's going to have to be done well to be done right. What happens next will be pretty pivotal to the story line, so with the holidays and the LFTL launch I'm just going to need a little more time.

Thanks for your patience and hang in there! More's a-comin'!!!

New Look!

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Sun, 18 Dec 2011 04:03:00 +0000

I've had this blog since 2006. In all that time I've changed things around once or twice, but it's been a while since I gave it a real overhaul. I figured since I had a lot of new announcements to make maybe it'd be a good time to spruce things up around here!

I've added a sneak peek at the cover for truly. over on the side bar, as well as some different ways to follow and like by email or twitter.

The links to truly. posts and installments are still there, just below the new cover image on the right sidebar. I've also condensed some of the longer posts and installments so instead of taking up miles of real estate for each installment they now have a way to click to read the rest. It should make it easier to scan the blog for posts you may not have read yet.

So, I'll be adding new tabs, links, and content a lot more often! And don't worry, we'll get back to truly. real soon!

Once Upon a Time...

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Fri, 16 Dec 2011 20:43:00 +0000

There was this girl.

And she was a pretty private person. She loved reading books and writing books, and people loved to read her writing, so she realized eventually she would probably have to pursue publishing.

When she finished writing her first novel and got started on her second, she was starting to get a little nervous. Then she had a brilliant idea! Why not use a pen name?! After all, it was good enough for Mark Twain...

She established an identity online using said name and thought everything would work out just fine. And it did - for a while.

Until she got all gussied up and went to a writer's conference and started meeting all her writing friends in person. Although she was very upfront about the pen name and people were cool with it, they started calling her "Slash" - as in Pen Name / Real Name. She'd been heavily involved in the online writing community and had a lot of people following her blog, even done some promotion on her books (including Letters From The Ledge, which at the time was authored by "Madison Richards"), so people weren't recognizing her by her given name, and even google searches were coming up with the book title attached to the pen name.

She met her agent at that writer's conference, who was fine with marketing the book either way, but did suggest that it might get a little confusing down the line.

Her agent was seriously right!

Five years, countless social media accounts and two entire identities later, it's time to put a stop to the madness! Being two people who are really one person is pretty exhausting.

So, I'm putting in my notice! I quit!

But I have to admit, I still feel like both people most of the time... :)

Geez....even I'M confused!!

Ok so that's it then... I guess I'll just be...

Forever yours,

Slash :)

Whew! It's Teaser Time!!

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Wed, 14 Dec 2011 04:23:00 +0000

I have come to the conclusion that I am in need of a personal assistant. Or, at the very least, to become independently wealthy. Right about now I'd take a coupon for Merry Maids :)

Finalizing, tweaking, formatting and otherwise getting ready to publish Letters From The Ledge has been a massive undertaking, but I'm SO so excited about the finished product!

It'll be available in digital format VERY soon, and most of the places carrying it will allow the reader to download a sample so I figured I'd give it to all of you awesome people first!

Please forgive me for the formatting - it's nearly midnight and I have to work tomorrow and I don't have time to fight with Blogger over HTML issues... Once it's live on iBooks, Amazon, Nook, etc the excerpt will read a lot smoother!

Hopefully it won't be too confusing, as this is a completely different novel altogether, but I'll need a couple more days to get the next installment of truly out so in the meantime here's an excerpt!

Letters From The Ledge

"How do you become something you’re not?"
"What do you want to become?"
"What I’m not.""What are you now?"
"I’m nothing."
- Life as a House

Prologue

I haven’t learned much in the last seventeen years, but of this I’m fairly certain: What you think you know doesn’t have much to do with reality.
I went back out on the ledge tonight. It’s a long way down. Of course, it’d be a long way up too, if you could fly. Madison Avenue looks pretty small from sixty-six floors up, but height does have its advantages. I’ve got a great view of all the other buildings on this block, but as far as I can tell, nobody else likes the ledge. I find that a little hard to believe, living in this soul-sucking crowd of eight million. Maybe that's just me.
My parents are out tonight. They’re always out–even when they’re in. Last week I added a second piercing to my lip, but so far they haven’t noticed. I’ve stopped cutting temporarily–decided to try the ledge instead.
I guess I just want Newton to be wrong about gravity. I know the flying part doesn’t hurt. It’s the landing I’m worried about.
When I was a kid I used to dream about being a pilot. I had a bunch of model airplanes and I would fly them off our balcony, then ride the elevator down and try to find them. Of course they were never there, so I figured once they left the balcony they must have become real airplanes–Pinocchio style. I know better now, but there’s a part of me that still wants to believe in miracles. When you make the leap, can you really become what everyone else says you can’t?

My aunt is an emergency room nurse. They have all kinds of nicknames for people who come in with different problems. I overheard her tell my mom once that they have a special name for jumpers. It’s called: "Failure to Fly".

“Prison life consists of routine, and then more routine."

- The Shawshank Redemption

CHAPTER ONE

“Would you mind telling me exactly what it is you’re looking for out there?”
Paige ignored the comment. She sat with her knees pulled up along the metal grates, arms wrapped tightly around them, back against the cold brick.
Nate wandered over to the window and dipped his head under the open sill. “I mean, you’ve been out here for half an hour. Aren’t you freezing?”
Paige’s head bobbed mechanically. She stared off into the night and wouldn’t answer him. He touched the back of his hand to her bare arm and swore under his breath, ducking back inside to grab a blanket off the couch. He opened the window a little wider and spoke gently into her ear. “Here. Lean forward.”
She did as she was told, and he slipped the blanket around her shoulders, tucking it in around her. As he leaned past he caught scent of her hair and stopped momentarily to breathe her in. That breath was always accompanied by an ache he couldn’t name, but he let it in anyway. Then he stopped in front of her mouth and brushed her lips, willing her back. Suddenly her breath caught and she leaned forward, softening into his kiss.
Nate pulled back ever so slightly and watched her eyes open. “Hi there.”
She smiled. “Hi.”
“You’re beautiful.”
“And you’re warm.” She slipped her hands out of the blanket and pushed them up his chest.
He wrapped her face in his hands and kissed her again, this time with intention. “Yes. Very.” His mouth curved up in a playful smile. “You want to come in now?”
“In a minute.”
Nate turned his head and looked out, while nonchalantly moving his hand slowly across her waist and then turning slightly north. “Are you trying to tell me that a bunch of cold concrete and metal is more interesting than this?”
Paige laughed, carefully removing his hand and threading her fingers through his. She kissed his fingers slowly, one by one. “No, but I am rather fascinated by the view.”
He smiled down, expecting to find her looking at him, but instead her eyes were focused elsewhere.
Paige looked up, but pointed her finger absently in the opposite direction.
“What are you pointing at?”
She shrugged innocently. “Them.”
Nate looked more than a little confused. “The… million or so people in our neighborhood ,or…?”
“No, silly–them!” Finally her face followed her finger and pointed more specifically in the direction of a lit balcony at the top of the building just across the way and slightly to the left of them. A young man stood at the edge with his arms spread out like an eagle.
Nate sucked in a full breath. “Holy sh-”
“Wait!” She put her finger over his lips as he leaned his head further out the open window. “He’s not alone.”
She focused his attention toward a window in a building to their right, where the silhouette of a young girl was backlit and visibly still. Focused, it seemed, on the same young ‘bird-to-be’.
“So you’re both watching the same kid? That’s great, you can compare stories! Are you crazy? I’m calling the police!” Nate started to push his body backwards through the window.
She turned her head to call after him but didn’t make a move to follow. “He’s been out here three nights in a row Nate. I don’t think he’s going to jump.”
Nate stuck his head back out the window. “Did you say three days?”
“Nights, actually. I’m not here during the day.”
Nate whipped his head in the direction of the lit balcony, agitated by his helplessness. “Well what’s he doing out there? Are you saying you don’t think he means to jump?”
“Seems to be the million-dollar question.”
“And this doesn’t… bother you.”
“Look Nate, all I know is, every night he comes out here about the same time and walks the ledge. Sometimes he sits. Sometimes he sticks his arms out like a bird–like that.” She pointed to his current posturing. “Sometimes it looks like he’s reading or maybe writing. Then he goes back inside. The next night? Same thing. At least so far.”
Paige was uncharacteristically calm, considering the circumstances, which concerned Nate almost more than anything else. He looked again to the right, but couldn’t find the window she’d pointed to before. “And the girl?”
“A mystery as well. She sits in her window and watches him. I think she journals a lot. Sometimes there’s a light on in her room, but mostly she’s in shadow. I noticed her first, actually. Kept trying to figure out what she was staring at, sitting so still for so long.”
“Maybe she’s a spy and she doesn’t want him to know she’s watching him.” Nate spoke in an exaggerated whisper, trying to lighten the mood, but Paige was buried in thought again. He watched her pull the blanket more tightly across her shoulders. The irony of her sitting on the fire escape was not lost on him.
She blinked a couple of times. “Maybe she just wants to hide.”
“And you can tell that by her silhouette?”
Paige just shrugged, her eyes focused on something far away. “Maybe she doesn’t know what she wants.”
“Are we still talking about her?”
Paige glared and waved him inside.
After Nate pulled his body back through the open window, she climbed in after him. “And you didn’t feel like calling the police, even the first time you saw him?”
Paige shook her head, shaking out the blanket and refolding it. “Oh, I was shocked initially, just like you. But if you watch him, it’s kind of fascinating, really. I don’t think he’s serious, but I can’t explain why. It’s just a feeling I get.”
Nate couldn’t argue that one. “It’s just…I gotta tell you, it’s a little morbid–you watching him like that. I mean, what if he jumps and you have to watch him die? Or worse–what would it be like reading tomorrow’s headlines and knowing you could have done something?”
Paige became increasingly irritated. “Something about what exactly? A guy who likes to spend time out on his balcony in New York City? What do I know? Maybe he’s a scientist, studying the effects of the wind on wispy thin bodies at high altitudes.”
“A little young to be a scientist, don’t you think?”

She laid the blanket across the back of the couch. “Look, it’s not my problem. And I’m not his mommy.”
Paige disappeared into the bathroom and left Nate standing by the window.
He peeked out through the curtains one more time and sure enough, the boy was still there. “No, you’re not his mommy. But where is she? And why isn’t she the one watching him?”

_______________

“My God, Brendan! What is that smell?” Ginny wrinkled her nose and swayed a bit, leaning up against the doorframe to steady herself.
“It’s called ‘Boy.’ Abercrombie just came out with it. Do you like it?”
She took short little sniffs, as if she was checking the milk carton for freshness, afraid to suck in a whole nauseating lung-full. “I’m not sure. Smells like a mixture of burnt grass and dirty gym socks to me.”
Brendan dipped his eyebrows up in genuine admiration. “Good guess.”
An abnormally long pause ensued. Brendan watched as she tried desperately to focus on his face. “Is there something I can do for you, mom?”
“I didn’t realize I needed an appointment to talk to my own son.”
“Well, we pretty much exhausted the whole ‘what’s that smell’ conversation so I figured maybe we should move on.”
Her eyes were so glazed that Brendan wondered if she hadn’t gotten a better whiff than he realized, but then she lurched forward unexpectedly and when he caught her arm the air filled with the smell of stale brandy–her crutch of choice.
Brendan’s head tilted as he tried to get a better look at her. “You ok?”
Ginny straightened. “Of course I’m ok.”
He was skeptical, but used to the routine. “If you say so.”
“I came in to tell you I bought you some new t-shirts. I’m getting tired of seeing you in black all the time. It’s starting to feel like a goddamned morgue around here.” Whenever she said “goddamned” her New Jersey accent came out from behind its carefully practiced masque of etiquette. She never seemed to notice and it never failed to amuse him.
“They’re in the living room by the front door.” She stumbled out of the room before he could protest – much less say thank you.
Brendan chuckled softly, shaking his head as he pulled open the dresser drawer and lifted up the socks that covered the ashtray, then pulled out the snuffed joint and lit it again. “A very good guess, actually.”

"A real man admits his fears." - The Replacements

CHAPTER TWO

"Paige? Have you seen my briefcase?" Nate walked out of the bathroom with his jacket slung over one arm, loosening his tie.
"Have you checked the West Wing?"
"Very funny."
She shook her head, smiling. "You set it down by the door when you came in."
"Oh. Right! Thanks." Nate grabbed up the leather satchel and began unloading file folders and a laptop. "We just secured three new clients and all of them are interested in both web development and a marketing package–they want everything we have to offer."
"Wow. That's great!"
"You’re telling me. I’ve had my eye on someone I’d like to hire but I needed to make sure I could pay him first. Now it won’t be a problem."
Her hesitation was slight, but pointed. "You do realize you possess a strange combination of business savvy and compassion that may very well break you some day."
"Well, that’s why I hooked up with a five-star accountant, so she can keep me from hiring all the homeless guys down at Battery Park and going broke in the process." He finished with a gallant sort of smirk.
She smiled indulgently but shook her head. "Laugh now. We’ll see what Peter says next time he cooks your books."
"I know what I’m doing Paige. My company is doing just fine." His voice scraped against the surface of the challenge.
"I know that, I just find it a little scary that we live in a studio apartment and you can still misplace your briefcase."
Paige continued washing dishes at the tiny sink in their kitchen. A light breeze from the open window blew the pale yellow curtains toward the suds and then sucked them back against the screen. The night air beckoned. Still, it felt good to do something brainless after pouring over ledgers all day long. "God forbid we should ever move into a house."
"Mmm. I like the way you think." Nate came up behind her and threaded his arms through hers, pretending to help wash the dishes while kissing the back of her neck. "Want some coffee? I’ll make a pot."
"I thought you had to work?"
"I do. Hence the offer of caffeine–or, whatever else you might have in mind."
His lips brushed against the base of her neck, launching a shiver that landed somewhere south of her belly button. She shook her head clear. “You don’t play fair.”
He breathed in the scent of her hair and slid his hands down the outside of her arms. “I’m not trying to cheat. I just asked if you wanted some coffee.”
Paige smiled and looked back over her shoulder. “I’d better not. I’ve had way too much caffeine today. I’ll be lucky to sleep as it is."
He slipped his soapy hands under her blouse. "I’m pretty sure I could help you with that."
She stepped out from under him, reached for a towel and tossed it playfully at his face.
He tried to look shocked but his eyes were laughing. "What? I was just trying to help."
Her kiss was perfunctory–a mere drive-by. "Why don’t you get your work done first? I’m going to sit outside." She started to climb through the window but stopped short. "We’ll talk later."
Nate hung the towel on the peg next to the fridge and proceeded to mash his nose against the windowpane like a third-grader. "You promise?"
Paige rested her forehead against the opposite side of the glass until they were faceto-face, grinning at his schoolboy antics. She could feel the heat from his body through the bottom of the partially open window. His warmth pulled her toward him and the sudden surge of feeling gave her a thrill that bordered on panic. For reasons she could hardly explain, times like this drew her deeper in love with him.
"Nate?" She stared, searching for the words buried in the last two years of rubble. He’d been infinitely tolerant of her sudden mood swings, patiently holding the lamp as she tried to dig her way back to ground zero. "Thanks."
Nate looked from the floor to her face. "Hey–that’s what friends are for, right?"
"Yeah, but I don’t usually kiss my friends like I kiss you."
His eyes were soft but full of life and light, dancing across the surface of the tension. “Thank God!” She smiled with a tenderness that betrayed her normal shell. It was a small victory, but he decided not to push his luck. He pointed at the glass and smirked playfully. "And don’t forget–we need to talk about the office party."
She immediately rolled her eyes. "You mean the one where the guy who signs my pay checks that I have absolutely no feelings for had to give me a ride home because I drank too much but absolutely nothing happened? Sure, we can talk about that–right after you give me one of your world famous massages."
A muscle twitched in Nate’s jaw as he backed away, shaking his finger at her. He nearly tripped over the coffee table in the process. "You’re good Paige. You’re very good."
She turned and sat with her back against the bricks. Nothing relaxed her more than sitting on the fire escape, listening to the sounds of New York. Being in a city that didn’t sleep had never bothered her. She didn’t sleep much either, and the perpetual lights made the finality of the darkness somewhat easier to bear. Besides, the unspoken presence of her fellow insomniacs was strangely comforting.
The city’s low-level electric hum was an undercurrent to every other sound. Its white noise kept all the other voices at bay. The spring breeze was unseasonably warm and inviting, bringing with it the stench of raw sewage. She shook her head with a smile. The address said uptown, but it still smelled like Queens.
And then there was bird-boy. She found herself thinking about him even when he wasn’t there, like a movie that ends without a decent plot resolution. Sometimes she made up beginnings, middles and endings to his story. She imagined him as a young rock star with more money than sense, or a tortured Emo poet. But mostly just a messed-up kid.
The way he massaged the ledge seemed to convey more angst than death wish. Back and forth he went, carefully putting one foot in front of the other, looking more like a circus performer than a boy on a wide brick balcony. Then again, maybe he just wanted to fly away. Sometimes he would sit, then lay down on the ledge, his arm dangling haphazardly over the side, so still he might as well be dead already. Lack of movement will do that for you, she realized with some gravity–make you feel like you’re as good as dead.
Somehow she understood him without knowing him. If life was a circus then she’d spent the last two years on the high wire, walking the line between reality and insanity. This was all very normal, she’d been told. But none of the words meant anything when the thick black water rushed in over her head and the drowning began. Sometimes she thought about just taking that last big breath of thick, muddy water and letting it all end, but her end would be in a different, much scarier place than the morgue.
In general, there was no excuse for voyeurism, but she watched people all the same. It was her way–a habit born of shyness, fueled by betrayal, and necessitated by life in a city like New York. Some people watched soap operas, she just watched people. It was pure escape, like losing yourself in the characters in a book and wondering what makes them tick even after you put it down for the night. That’s what the boy on the ledge had become for her–a story other than her own to concentrate on.
After a minute or two, she pulled her blouse the rest of the way out of her pants, finishing the job Nate had started. When she stole a glance back through the window, he was lying casually on their Murphy bed in a t-shirt and boxers, going over some papers. He spied her watching and patted the spot next to him without looking up. That goofy smile of his was already becoming her undoing. The trembling that seemed to start somewhere deep within was only ever quiet in his arms.
She ducked back through the window, inhaling one last breath before closing it the rest of the way. Suddenly Nate was behind her again. His thin t-shirt would have been a scant barrier had he not removed it in his travels between the bed and the window. He grabbed the hem of her blouse and began lifting it over her head as she shut the curtains.
"I knew you’d come around," he whispered into her hair.
She turned into his kiss. "Thanks for waiting."
"Any time."

"What you think you know doesn’t have much to do with reality.

I hope I’m not the first one to tell you this."
- Life as a House

CHAPTER THREE

Sarah took a deep breath and thought about fish. It was the only thing that worked. If she closed her eyes she could almost smell the cannery instead of the sewers. Some people might argue they were equally bad, but to Sarah the smell of fish brought peace and tranquility unlike anything else the city had to offer.
“Hey! Sarah–wait up!”
She turned quickly. Jillian was sitting on the wall outside the school. Apparently she’d blown right by her. Jillian’s jet-black hair was perfectly styled and unmoving, despite the breeze.
“What’s up?” Sarah kept walking, causing Jillian to scramble for her books and catch up.
Jillian looked miffed. “I have to have a reason to walk with you?”
“No. I’m just in a hurry.”
“Where’s the fire?”
Sarah shrugged. “No fire. I just have a bunch of stuff to do.”
“You always have a bunch of stuff to do, but you never actually do anything.”
It was true, but Sarah didn’t need Jillian to tell her that. She was just anxious to get home.
“Let’s do homework together tonight.” Jillian suggested. “Maybe I could come over after dinner?”
Sarah smiled, thankful for Jillian’s friendship, which often pulled her head out of the sand long enough to take a few necessary breaths. “Ok. Sure. Sounds good.”
Jillian’s eyes narrowed. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“I don’t know. You just seem kind of pre-occupied lately.”
“Just looking forward to summer I guess.”
“Sarah? It’s only April sweetie.”
“I know.”
Jillian opened her mouth to say something else but her phone went off and she unfolded the screen, firing back a text in a blur of finger movements. She flipped it closed just as quickly, only to find Sarah staring at her. “Fastest fingers on the east coast!” she winked. “I gotta go. I’ll be over around seven. Maybe seven thirty.”
Jillian blew away just as quickly as she had appeared. A cold wind followed and Sarah popped her collar up, waving as she rounded the corner, but the toe of her shoe hit something solid and she stumbled, spewing books in every direction.
When she looked back a guy about her age was sitting on the ground looking up at her through glassy eyes. He seemed generally amused by the physical comedy of it all. His smile caught her slightly off guard. Nice teeth. Must have cost a pretty penny.
The rest of the picture was incongruent as well. Printed olive drab t-shirt over a long-sleeved thermal, Tommy jeans and a pair of beat-up, orange Converse All-Stars with rips up and down the sides. His dark mass of curls was a mess and he was obviously stoned, partially propped up against the wall with his legs sprawled out on the sidewalk like some vagrant. The brown sack beside him could have held any number of things and she wasn’t about to start guessing.
As she stooped to pick up her books he didn’t move a muscle. He just kept staring at her and trying not to laugh. Her anger sparked and suddenly she didn’t care if he had a knife or a gun or a pound of heroin in that bag.
“You think it’s funny? What, you just lay here and wait for people to trip over you so you can laugh at them? Nice manners, bozo.”
His smile faded. “What did you just call me?”
Her heart started to beat against her chest.
“Bozo, was it?”
She was silent, unwilling to make a scene. There were still a lot of people around, so she felt relatively safe, but he straightened, then stood up. He had her by at least six inches. Her feet froze to the concrete.
“Like the clown, right?”
She nodded and he stuck out his hand and flashed a smile. “Then Bozo it is. Nice to meet you…”
He was obviously waiting for her name in return. When he started to sway she caught his hand reflexively to steady him. Why she had even touched him she had no clue. “It’s Sarah. And there’s a coffee shop right over there. You might want to grab a cup before you go home.”
She let go of his hand and walked away. He was talking to himself as she left, chuckling out loud. “Coffee shop…Ha…”
She clutched her books tightly to her chest as she walked, astounded that she had even talked to someone like him. At least he was a jolly drunk. Stoner. Whatever he was. Around the next block she ducked into a Starbucks, ordered a shot in the dark and sat down. She had just started going over her notes when stoner-boy walked in and plopped down next to her.
“Are you following me?”
“You told me to get a cup of coffee. So I am.”
The pounding started in her chest again. It was all she could do to keep her breathing at an even pace. He watched her with that same amused sort of disinterest.
“So, what’d you get on the exam last week?”
She whipped her head around. “What? What did you just say?”
He stood up and started for the order line. “The test in AP Bio. What’d you get?”
Her mind was racing and sweat started trickling down the middle of her back. She had to get out of there. What kind of a psycho stalker–
He was standing in the line with his back to her, then turned around and let his blue eyes pierce hers, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. “I sit three rows behind you.”
All the breath came out of her lungs at once. She swallowed hard and he turned back around. She tried to force herself to relax and steady her breathing. Her mind searched the AP Bio seating chart, but it was no use. She spent most of her school day in a daze. She wouldn’t have recognized anyone in that class except maybe her lab partner and a few of the other kids who sat around her.
He came back with a drip coffee, black, and sat down next to her again. Her arm moved away from him almost instinctively. His eyebrows twitched slightly, but somehow his eyes looked clearer than they had before. “Are you always this jumpy?” Again with the infuriating amusement at her obvious discomfort.
“Only around crazy people. Are you always stoned?”
He smiled, softer this time. “Only on Tuesdays and Thursdays.” He was gauging her reaction. Willing her to look him in the eye. He was being almost…charming.
She was still flustered, confused by his opposing personalities. “Tell me again why you’re bothering me?”
“Well, I didn’t want you to think I go by Bozo. And I wanted to apologize. For putting my legs in the path of your escape.”
“Escape? What are you talking about?”
He dropped his head and stared into his cup for a minute, then lifted it back up and held out his hand. “I’m Brendan, by the way.”
“Sarah.”
“Yeah. I got that part already.”
He leaned closer and her heart sped up. His voice was lower and she was forced to lean his direction to hear what he had to say. “Listen you may not know this, but you were followed here.”
Underneath the lingering smell of pot stuck to his clothing he actually smelled nice, like a combination of soap and shampoo and shaving cream, but how he shaved around those piercings at his lip line was a mystery. Her heart wouldn’t stop thundering in her ears long enough to register what he was actually saying.
“Uh, no–I’m pretty sure I get that. I mean, you’re sitting right next to me.”
His eyes were serious. “Not by me.”
“Listen, I don’t need your help to get freaked out by this city, so just stop it, ok? Besides, why would anyone follow me? I don’t even know anyone.”
“Exactly. But don’t worry. He didn’t come in.”
“He?” She looked down at Brendan’s hand gripped around his cup and instead saw the hairy man-hand from her childhood instead. She gasped audibly.
“Oh, that?” He lifted the sleeve of his thermal just slightly above the scar that was showing to reveal it more fully. “Sorry. Does that freak you out?”
“No. It wasn’t that. But what is that from?”
He shook his head. “Never mind. Anyway, when you walked away all hunched over your books like that, there was this guy–you walked right by him. You didn’t see him but he sure saw you. He got up and started following you. So I followed him.”
“Why would you do that?”
He thought about that for a minute. “Because I wouldn’t want my being in your way to have resulted in something bad happening. And besides, you were in your own little world. You were worse than stoned–you were oblivious. And oblivious will get you hurt.”
“I don’t know whether to be mad or grateful or if I should even believe you.” She sat back, exasperated and looked out toward the window. “So where is he now?”
“I don’t know. When you came in here he kept walking.”
“So how do you know he was following me? He could have just been walking the same direction for a while. And how do I know you’re not just totally making this up to hit on me?”
“Well, first of all, you’re just going to have to trust me. And second…you’re just going to have to trust me.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “Why should I trust a total stranger?”
“I’m not a total stranger. We have a class together, remember?”
He was smiling again, and it was hard to resist feeling comfortable around him. She lightened visibly, unable to keep a straight face. “Or so you say.”
He sat back, tapping his fingers on his cup. “The thing is, this is New York, and like it or not, the weak ones get picked off. You can’t look scared and expect to survive.”
She looked him straight in the eye. “Well what if I am scared?”
His hesitation stopped her short. She realized what she’d revealed and wished she could pull the words back into her mouth, but there they were, hanging in the air between them, ready to vanish as soon as the next sentence pushed them out of the way.
“Then I would have to say you’re not alone.” His eyebrows twitched and he swallowed funny. “But you still can’t let it show.”
“Where I come from that’s considered being two-faced. Not exactly the best plan if you want to make friends.”

“Yeah, well–not everybody’s looking for new friends.” Brendan sat back against the chair.
“Seventy-nine.”
“What?”
She closed her book and set it on the table in front of her. “On the test. I got a seventy-nine. I’m barely passing that class.”
He took a long sip of coffee and smiled. “Well, you sure look studious.”
“How about you?”

“I’m passing.”
“No dice, Bozo. What’d you get on the test?”
“Ninety-seven.”
Her eyes registered the shock. “Shut up!” He raised his eyebrows and shrugged like a little boy wearing a silly smirk. God he was cute. She swallowed again and took a sip of her coffee. “Geez. That makes me feel just great! Maybe I should try getting stoned more often.”
“More often than what? Never? Don’t be ridiculous. And you don’t have to impress me.”
“In what universe is getting stoned an impressive quality?”
He looked hurt by that comment and again she found herself wishing she could erase the words from the atmosphere. “I gotta go, but uh…if you need help, let me know.” He stood and started for the door.
She shook her head. She’d done it again–let her mouth speak before her mind could consider the impact. It was ending badly–again–but she didn’t know how to make it right.
“Nice shirt.”
He pulled the bottom out away from his stomach to look at it, as if he had to remind himself which one he put on. “You like eagles?”
“I’ve never met one, but I like what they stand for.”
“America?”
She shook her head. “Freedom.”
His eyes locked on hers for a brief moment and then he was gone. She sat for a while, wondering if what he’d said was true, dreading the walk home. There was one good thing about New York, though. If you traveled by day the streets were almost always crowded and that meant plenty of witnesses. She ducked out of the coffee shop and practically ran home.

“So tell me, what’s so special about this summer?” Jillian was lying across Sarah’s bed with her head and arms hung over the edge, limp like a rag doll. She’d finished her homework and was bored, waiting for Sarah to finish an essay.
“I’m spending it with my aunt and my grandparents, up in Brigus.”
“Is that anywhere near Brigadoon?” Jillian laughed an incredulous sort of laugh, as if nothing Sarah ever said was real.
“Very funny. It’s a little town on the coast in Newfoundland.”
“Newfoundland?” Jillian’s head shot up. “Like the big hairy dog?”
“It’s in Canada, and actually my aunt owns one of those dogs. His name is Joe. She got him after my uncle died. Said they were both sort of big and hairy and drooled a lot so it was kind of like having him around still.”
Jillian giggled. “Don’t tell me, your uncle’s name was Joe.”
“Actually yes. Pretty lame, huh?”
Jillian looked back down at the floor and started pulling her fingers through her hair to see if it would touch the ground. “I think it’s cute–like she’s still protected and everything. I can’t imagine living alone.”
Sarah thought of Brendan’s smile and she felt a little spray of warmth at the way he’d protected her for no reason.
Jillian’s head turned to the side and she was looking at Sarah through a massive black curtain. Her almond shaped eyes looked very strange from the side like that.
“What are you all smiley about?”
Sarah started folding some stray pieces of clothing. “Nothing. I was just thinking about how cute it is too.” She lied.
Jillian narrowed her eyes. “Hmph.”
“They were very much in love, you know.”
“How did he die?”
“Whaling accident.”
“Now there’s something you don’t hear every day.” Jillian rolled onto her back and looked up at Sarah. “What exactly is a whaling accident?”
She realized how weird that must sound to someone who’d grown up surrounded by concrete and steel. “He worked on a whaling ship. You know, out on the ocean? Got caught in the line and drowned in the sea.”
“People still do that?”
Sarah glared at her. “Whaling is big business up there.”
“Sorry. It’s just so weird to think about. Seems more like something we might read about in history class than a real-life occurrence.”
Sarah sighed. Three months wasn’t going to pass quickly enough. “It’s a whole different world up there, I’ll give you that.”
“How often do you go?”
“Every summer since I was seven.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. You’d think I’d get sick of it, but I still love it.”
Jillian looked at her with a critical eye. “So what’s so great about it?”
“I don’t know. Everything is the opposite of here, so it’s hard to describe. Even the air is different there. It’s clean and misty and kind of fishy and I wish you could smell it.”
Jillian rolled her eyes. “Sounds delicious.”
“No, you don’t get it. The sky is enormously blue. If you could stand on one of the mountains that overlook the cove I swear it would take your breath away.”
“If you break into something from The Sound of Music I’m leaving right now.”
They smiled at each other.
“I know it sounds stupid. I mean, the tallest building is the fish cannery at a whopping three floors high. It’s nothing like New York, but I love it all the same.”
“I’ve only ever been to Disney World.” Jillian was picking at her fingernails. “But I’m not sure that counts. It’s like going from one reality-tv show to another.”
“It’s nothing like Disney World either. Close your eyes!” Jillian stopped picking and did as she was told. Sarah dropped down onto the bed next to her and made her voice sound like a narrator for a fairy tale. “Imagine if you will, a magical place, where the fog rolls in off the ocean each morning, covering everything in a fine, damp mist. Sometimes it’s so thick in the valley you can’t see five feet in front of you–kind of like smog, only clean. By afternoon it’s been burned off by the sunshine, revealing these incredibly vibrant colors and animated textures, like the unveiling of a long awaited painting. The ocean rises up to meet the hills and the landscape practically breathes in time with the rhythm of the tides.”
Jillian turned her head and opened one eye. “Are you for real or am I about to get Punk’d?”
Sarah punched her in the arm lightly. “Oh forget it!”
She rolled over and looked out the window. In the distance she could just make out his shape on the ledge, but she kept quiet. It was like her own little secret, and she liked keeping it that way. She wondered–not for the first time–if maybe she wasn’t the only one who wished they could leave their current life behind and find a place where they could really fly.

____________________

“Bren? What are you doing out there?”
His back was toward the door, but even with the iPod blaring he could sense his father’s presence behind him. He imagined it like thick black smoke that spread out ahead of the fire and formed tentacles, choking everything in its path.
“Can you even hear me? Take that shit out of your ears.”
Brendan laughed under his breath. As if it were possible to successfully extricate the last seventeen years of putrid deposits that had filled his brain and tainted his heart. He removed the ear buds but left the rest of him connected to the music.
“Your mother and I are going out.”
An uncomfortable silence loomed between them and Brendan looped his thumbs together in his lap, making the sign for the awkward turtle, swimming through the dead air space toward nowhere in particular. His back was still toward his father.
“Have you eaten anything?”
“Is it Easter already? Did mom cook?”
“Here.”
Brendan turned toward his father’s outstretched hand. “Could you make it an even hundred? I could use a little extra money for drugs this week.”
“Be serious, Brendan.”

He swung his feet around, jumped down and faced the man squarely, looking him straight in the eye. “I’m dead serious, dad.”
“Just take the money, and quit pulling my chain. That shit doesn’t work on me. You sit up here feeling sorry for yourself and let daddy pay for everything, and somehow I’m the asshole. It’s a good thing your grades are decent or you’d be out on your ass come June. Believe me, Wharton will be the best thing that ever happened to you. Show you what it’s like to work hard for the money you want to earn.”
“What if I don’t want to live in a penthouse? Not everyone aspires to the same lifestyle you do.”
“You’ve been privileged for so long you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself in the real world where people scrape by on eight or nine bucks an hour and live in rat-infested apartments. You think that’s any kind of a life? When you’ve got a golden opportunity staring you right in the face? Practically handed to you on that silver platter you so disdain. Take my advice boy, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. You can hate me now, but you’ll thank me later.”
Several more awkward moments passed by in slow motion. Eventually Brendan pulled the bills out of his father’s hand and turned back toward the night sky. “Have a good time.”
After his father left, Brendan carefully folded one of the twenties into a paper airplane and sailed it off the balcony. Money was just too damned expensive.

"Welcome to the desert of the real.”
- The Matrix

CHAPTER FOUR

"Tell me again what we’re doing?" Nate was holding the arms of Paige’s jacket out so she could stick her arms into the holes behind her. "You know, I've never understood this ritual. I mean, I get the chivalry aspect of helping a woman on with her coat, but why can't she just look back once in a while and at least help guide the procedure?"
She smiled and looked over her shoulder but he wasn't even watching. He was completely focused on fitting her hands into the holes and kept right on talking. "I swear it's like trying to perform a mid-flight probe and drogue maneuver!"
"Probe and what?"
He looked up, slightly embarrassed. "You know, when they have to…fuel a plane or a spacecraft while it's still in the air?”
She blinked a couple of times, waiting for further explanation.
“You've got the probe and it's got to fit inside the little–" He gestured unsuccessfully with his hands. "Forget it. You were saying?"
"Drinks–with a new client. Shouldn’t take too long. His wife will be there and it’s supposed to be a casual thing, so I figured I could bring you."
Nate straightened the lapels of his jacket and pretended to smooth his hair back. "Well then, arm candy I shall be." He kissed her cheek, lifting her hair out of the back of her coat for her. "Is Kevin coming?"
She stopped, exasperated. "Why do you hate him so much?"
"I don’t hate him. I just don’t like him."
"But why?"
Nate shook his head. "If you were a guy, you’d understand."
"Because he asked me out a couple of times? I said no, for God’s sake. Who cares?
That was almost three years ago."
"It’s not the fact that he asked you out three years ago” Nate explained slowly. “It’s that he still wishes he could." He picked up his keys and pocketed his wallet.
"We’re professionals, Nate.” She asserted. “And besides that, you’re seeing things."
"You’re just going to have to trust me."
Paige sighed. "You know what? Let’s just go."
"Great! Where are we headed?"
"The restaurant over at the Carlton Hotel.”
“Nice choice. They make a great Sapphire and tonic.”
“I’m sure you’ll need one.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“A boring business meeting and Kevin too?”
“I’m thirsty already.” He smiled sarcastically.
“It’s not that far. We should probably walk. It'd be silly to take a cab to the other side of the block."
"Can I hold your hand?"
His smile was so genuine it disarmed her, the deep love he carried so obvious it stung. She’d never met anyone like him before. She could be infuriated one minute, and the next he was dismantling her arguments with a look. "You’re amazing, you know that?"
Nate opened the door, waiting for her to go out ahead of him. He followed her out toward the elevator. "Well, I never said I was buying!"
Downstairs, they walked out into the night air and Paige inhaled slowly with her eyes closed. "Ah. New York. Land that I love."
Nate sniffed the air. "You’re the only girl I know that ranks the smell of garbage right up there with pizza and Chanel No 5. At this rate, I’m never going to persuade you to leave the city, am I?"
"Not likely." She snorted sarcastically, but something in his tone stopped her from continuing to mock the absurdity of his statement. "Why? Did you have something in mind?"
"Oh, I don’t know." They passed a jeweler and he looked over his shoulder. "Just talking out loud I guess."
She pretended not to notice, but her heart started pounding in her ears as little beads of sweat formed across her forehead.
"Are you all right?"
She looked up into the sky and then looked sideways at him. "Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little panic attack at the thought of having to leave my native habitat."
"Aw, come on. You did it once. It wasn’t that bad, was it?"
Paige thought back to the years she spent in college. Life in a quaint mid-western town taught her many things. For one thing, that life was no respecter of persons–or geography, for that matter. It turned out small town scandals were just as common, only the gossip train didn’t have to wait for the six o’clock news. Soon after passing her CPA exam, she’d taken the first New York job offer that came her way. "Not bad, just different. Here is home. It feels right, being back here. I don’t know how else to describe it."

"It would take an act of God then, to make you leave, is that about right?"
She laughed. "Pretty much, yeah."
Paige stuffed her hands into her coat pockets and shivered. Nate immediately wrapped her in his arm, so her head could rest against his shoulder as they walked.
"Is that why you came back? It seemed like a couple of those other job offers would’ve been a lot more lucrative–especially the one in Atlanta."
She smiled up at him. "I wouldn’t last two weeks in the South and you know it. Those sticky-sweet women make me want to take insulin. Money isn’t everything, you know."
"Don’t I know it. Believe me, I’m not complaining. I’m pretty happy that you showed up on the scene when you did. It’s just–look around you, Paige. It’s so dense and crowded–you can’t even see the stars! Don’t you ever wish for wide-open spaces?"
"Sometimes." She looked up at the small patch of night sky coming through the tops of the buildings. "I guess that’s what vacations are for.” She thought some more. “Besides, I never know what to do with myself in a wide-open space. It’s not everyone’s idea of freedom, you know."
"You win. Let’s not talk about it anymore and just enjoy the evening." His gaze followed hers up into the night’s starry atmosphere. "What the–what is that?"
What looked like a small piece of paper was falling from the sky. It came to rest on a window ledge about thirty feet above their heads, then blew off and drifted down. When it landed on the pavement just a few feet away, Nate walked over to it, but Paige kept her distance.
“Ingenious use of origami.” He chuckled softly.
"What is it?"
He stood, holding out a twenty-dollar bill that had been carefully folded into an intricate and surprisingly aerodynamic paper airplane, trying his best to stifle a laugh. "I think it’s for you. It’s a message from heaven."
He was grinning as she came closer, looking from the sky to his face. “Who does that? Who throws away money?”
"People do it every day.”
“At Starbucks, yes–but not like this.”

“Are you mocking my addiction?”
Paige smiled.
“I still think it’s God trying to tell you something." Still grinning, Nate slipped his arm back around her shoulders, and carefully placed the twenty into the front pocket of his jacket.
She was stiff as he pulled her along for the next several feet.
"Paige, come on, it’s no big deal–just a freakish coincidence.” She relaxed a little under the weight of his arm. “We’ll keep it for a rainy day. Maybe I’ll let you buy me a cup of coffee some time."

____________________

Brendan heard a door close behind his parents somewhere in the distance. He cursed and then opened fire with his fist into the brick wall. His knuckles ripped open as a sharp pain exploded across the back of his hand. He sucked in a slow, deep breath and held it as if he were taking a hit, blinking his eyes and adjusting to the pain level as he settled back against the wall.
Holding the hand out in front of him, he watched the blood form a tiny stream that dripped steadily onto the bricks below, soaking into the pores of pressed clay. Mingling reds and oranges blurred together as he willed back the tears that threatened to spill over and dilute it all. When at last the pain dulled to a throb and became a part of his breathing he moved methodically into his room.
He rolled a joint, being careful not to disturb the congealing blood on the back of his hand. The alternating stripes against his pale skin sent him back in time. A Christmas memory from long ago crept into his consciousness as he watched a slow motion film of a candy cane shattering against the wall, his father’s voice thundering over him.
"Is that all you care about? A goddamned candy cane? I bought you a telescope and all you can do is play with that stupid toy camera and whine about when you get to eat your candy cane!"
Too bad it got returned to the store. That telescope would’ve come in handy now.
Brendan set the joint next to the ashtray and lined the lighter up exactly parallel to it. Then he opened his desk drawer and took out the blade. He always examined it carefully, turning it back and forth under the lamp until the light danced with the shadows on the ceiling.
He carefully rolled up the sleeve on his right arm. Finding a suitable place was getting harder. The scars never healed right if he kept reopening them. He looked on the left side and fixed his gaze as the feeling began calling to him. He lit the joint, took a long drag, and held it as he sank the blade into his skin.
A clean cut was a beautiful thing. It didn’t bleed right away, and in that brief moment before the blood was visible, if he was very still, he could feel without seeing the cut that would eventually become a scar. That was the moment he lived for–feeling that didn’t leave a wake. Reality however, remained victorious. Sooner or later every feeling left a scar. That was what the rest of the joint was for.

12/14/ 11 \
UPDATE! Just woke up to the news! It's live on Kindle as of this morning! For less than a latte!!

Merry Christmas everyone!

Remember, if you don't have a Kindle, Amazon has a free app for your PC or Mac or iPhone / iPad and you can read on those... Other versions like for the Nook bookstore, iBooks / iTunes (all of which are the "ePub" version) should be live in the next few days. Will keep you posted!

Best Wishes,

Madison

truly. (Part 23)

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Fri, 09 Dec 2011 16:31:00 +0000

If you're new to this story or this blog, this book's journey begins here...

truly. (Part 23)

Just about the time I thought I couldn’t drink any more of that wine, Finn pulled out the appetizers–a small, chilled plate of cheeses and meats, a few crackers, shrimp, and some grapes. It was just what my rebelling stomach needed.

We ate slowly and began to talk about his sister and his family. It was a very interesting dynamic, as it became clear that the date wasn’t going to begin once we got to the restaurant, it had already begun. The limo ride gave us a good long time to talk face to face with no crowds to impress and no traffic to stress over. There was a black privacy shield up between us and the driver, enclosing us in our own little moving room. It didn’t matter how long it took to get to Hartford. I had Finn all to myself.

The baby’s death had affected him more than I realized. His emotions were raw and uncensored. It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to share with me while he was gone. I think he’d been unable to process it himself until he got some distance from the situation.

“Eiran was the baby of the family. We all doted on her. She’s very petite, like you.”

Petite? “Is that a nice way of saying I’m short?”

Finn smiled. “Yes. But also very cute.”

“Ok, I can handle that!” I teased. His intensity was a little overwhelming. If we didn’t break the ice here and there I’d end up trapped underneath it.

Finn went right back to serious. “She never wanted anything more than to be a mother. She loves children, and children love her. She wants a big Irish family, and this loss has been devastating. They had to do some surgery, and aren’t sure if she’ll be able to have any more children, which has shaken her entire world, you know?”

I just nodded, staring with what I’m sure was a really stupid look on my face. I didn’t know if I even wanted kids, so I couldn’t really relate to someone who wanted a truckload of them. But I could relate to loss, even if it was at a sort of distance. The distance was closing in though, as we talked, and I began to get nervous again. That was when he hit me with it.

“And it wasn’t like I knew this baby, but it was a part of Eiran, and now it’s gone and a part of her is gone, you know? She’ll never be the same person I knew growing up, all bubbly and fun and carefree. She’s been changed by this, and you can’t – change back.”

I just kept nodding. I didn’t know what would come out of my mouth if I tried to open it so I just kept it shut.

“You know about losing someone you love. Do you feel like a different person now? Does it ever go away?”

He was being serious and the answer of course was no, it never goes away and of course I’m a different person now. But no real person had ever asked me those things point blank, except my therapist, and I don’t consider him a real person, so I was completely unprepared to answer. I just sat there, sweating.

“Will you tell me about your mother?”

I just stared at him. My mother? Could I talk about my mother?

“I don’t know.”

Hey, at least I was being honest.

He didn’t seem fazed by my inner hysteria, or maybe he couldn’t see it. He wasn’t even looking at me, he was just trying to process through his grief and it wasn’t really about me at all. It was about him, and somehow that made it easier.

I opened my mouth and words began to exit through the hole.

“I was fourteen when my mother died. It shaped my whole life after that – or maybe distorted would be more accurate.”

Finn focused in on my face as I spoke.

“I don’t think I really understood how it affected me, because I was so young.”

It was Finn’s turn to nod.

“Not that I felt young at the time. I felt ancient at fourteen.”

“Why ancient?”

“Because mom had been sick for over a year when she died, and it was me and Jenny, trying to take care of her and dad.” When I spoke Jenny’s name my eyes teared without my permission.

“Is Jenny your sister then? Where is she now?”

I lost it then. “She’s dead too.”

“Oh my God.” Finn pulled me into his arms and cried with me.

I mean, we were crying at the same time. I’m sure we both had our separate reasons, but still, it was…nice–sharing emotion with someone after so many years of trying to keep it to myself. He needed to grieve his family’s loss and I needed to grieve…well, so many things I’d just about lost count.

I began rocking in his arms. I didn’t mean to. It was just something I did when I was sad. He rocked right along with me as I completely lost track of time, stroking the hair back from my face as I cried. He seemed to sense that I didn’t do this very often.

Finally he whispered into the silence. “How did she die, Truly?”

“She was stabbed.” I managed.

"By who?"

My voice got stronger, fueled by anger and injustice. “By her boyfriend’s rival gang-banger.” I sniffed and laughed a little. “It’s kind of like a bad movie, isn’t it?”

He was shaking his head while kissing the top of mine. “I think you could win an award.”

I looked up. “For what? Most pathetic life on the planet?”

He shook his head. “How long after your mother died was your sister murdered?” Murdered. Wow, I never really used that term, even in my own head, but it was true, wasn’t it? “Did the person who did it go to jail?”

My voice took on that monotone, disconnected sound. I could hear myself telling the story somewhere in the distance, but it wasn’t close enough to feel anymore, which was comforting, if not completely senseless.

“No, he’s dead too. There was a big fight after it happened. A lot of them died that night. Jenny’s boyfriend too. It was just as well. I didn’t want a bunch of gang-bangers at her funeral and they were too busy burying their own.”

Finn’s arms went somewhat slack, as if he’d spent every last ounce of energy he had listening to me. I knew how he felt, but mine was replaced by need–the need to feel something on a different level. I stared up at him, trying to somehow convey the emptiness I needed to have filled. He seemed to understand and I watched him struggle with the want. He reached up and stroked my face with the back of his hand. He was human, after all, and he’d been here before, I could see it.

He kissed me, tentatively at first, but the fire we’d sparked a couple of times before flashed immediately into flame and there was no escape in a moving vehicle. He pulled me onto his lap and I don’t think even a fire hose would have done us much good, except the car came to a stop just then, and a voice came over the intercom, telling us we’d arrived at our destination.

We had just enough time to right ourselves when the driver opened my door. I shook my hair out and blinked a couple of times, laughing. “You sure you want dinner?”

Finn was breathing hard, trying to reverse his engines. “I’m not sure of anything right now!”

He looked up at me like a helpless little boy and my heart about exploded, but I turned toward the open door and caught my first glimpse of our destination.

“Oh my God.” I looked back at Finn. “Oh my God!”

He was grinning. “What do you think? Was it worth the drive?”

“Is this for real? I mean… it’s so late! Are they even open for tours?”

“We’re not here for a tour, although you can have one if you want. This is where we’re having dinner.” Finn was still grinning. He knew he had me. I was flabbergasted.

He followed me out of the car and we stood there in front of my own personal mecca: 351 Farmington Avenue, the beautiful and architecturally unique Mark Twain house.

The chill caught me off guard. I’d walked out of the car without my coat. Finn retrieved it and wrapped it around my shoulders.

“How did you know?”

“That you were cold? I saw you shivering.”

I tipped my head down and looked up at him.

“Oh that! You mean this?” He spread his arm out to indicate the house, which was impeccably decorated and looked like a Victorian fairy tale.

“Umhmm.”

“Well, you practically have a shrine dedicated to him on your bookshelf, so I figured it was a safe bet.” He was he was still grinning.

“So you were studying my bookshelf that night!”

Finn put his hand behind my back. “Shall we?”

“It’s nearly ten o’clock at night! Who’s even here?” Even as I said the words, the door opened and a staff dressed in period clothing greeted us. They took our coats and led us into a room warmed by a roaring fire, where an older man offered us some tea and began to tell us about the history of the place. Most of it I already knew. I’d written a term paper on Mark Twain when I was at NYU, and although I’d never physically been here, I felt like the rooms knew me somehow.

He told us about the family’s life, the ghost stories associated with the house, and asked if we wanted a tour. My stomach was growling, but there was no way I was passing up this opportunity!

I walked through the rooms with my mouth open, like a kid at Christmas. The tour ended for us in the stunning conservatory, where a small table was set for two. “This is where we’re having dinner?! Off the library in Mark Twain’s house…”

“Yes.”

“How?!”

“One of the curators is a good friend of mine–as is the chef at the café here. I hope you like Japanese food?”

The white wine and shrimp were beginning to make sense now. “I love it! Bring on the tempura!”

A cart came rolling out with a selection of sushi and appetizers like calamari and edamame. After that we feasted on an amazing udon noodle soup and finished it off with Tempura Twinkies.

“I know it’s not chocolate heaven, but you have to admit, it is a unique way to make a lovely dessert!”

I had to give him that. This was one of the more interesting meals I’d ever eaten. “Everything has been fabulous, and who would have thought about deep frying a twinkie? I mean, this is genious!” I held up the last bite of my dessert before popping it into my mouth, then forced myself to wait until I’d finished swallowing. “That is amazing right there!”

Finn’s face flushed. “I’m so glad you liked it.”

I stared at him for a minute. We both knew what was coming. “You know, it’s going to be a long car ride home. Maybe we should take separate limos.”

He made an overly exaggerated gesture and patted his stomach contentedly. “I’ve been well fortified. I think I can control myself now.”

I smiled back. Oh, how I wished he wouldn’t…

Best Wishes,

Madison

truly. (Part 22)

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 04:34:00 +0000

If you're new to this blog, this book's journey begins here...

truly. (Part 22)

I looked around on the street but there was no sign of Christopher, not that he would have been standing out in the open taunting me or anything. That wasn’t his style. Still, I tried to look confident and happy as an older man in a black suit got out and opened my door. When we were safely inside the tinted-windowed land yacht, I let myself relax a little. It probably wasn’t bulletproof, but it sure felt that way. I’d never been inside a limousine before and I tried to forget Christopher and just revel in the luxury of it all.

Finn, on the other hand, looked fairly comfortable sitting there with his jacket unbuttoned. He put his arm around me and motioned to a chilled glass sitting next to me.

“I don’t know if you drink wine, but I took the liberty of pouring us a bit of white.”

I picked up the glass and took a sip. “That’s great. Thank you.” The first taste was terrible after having just brushed my teeth, but once I got past that, it was a very nice glass of wine. It was a relief not to be drinking cachaça. After throwing it up so many times I wasn’t sure I’d ever drink it again.

“So, where are you taking me?”

Finn smiled. “That would be a secret.”

I turned toward him and crossed one leg over the other. The dress was a lot shorter than I was used to wearing, but I was determined to at least try to act like a lady. I reached up and put my hand against his chest. It was warm against my chilled fingers and I kissed him on the cheek. “Well, thanks in advance…And for everything before.”

“It’s my pleasure, really.” He threaded his fingers through mine. “I wanted this night to be special. I hope we can still salvage it.”

I knew it. I knew I’d ruined it for him. I thought I was over Christopher, but grief is a funny thing. Just when you think you’ve gotten ahead of it, it sneaks up beside you and cuts in line.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve ruined everything.”

“What?!” He looked down at me. “What are you talking about?”

“Salvaging what’s left of what was supposed to be a beautiful and romantic date. What are you talking about?”

Finn’s head shook continually from side to side as I talked. “No no no… I didn’t mean that. Not at all.”

It was my turn to raise my eyebrows at him. Hadn’t he just said as much? What was this? Backpedaling?

He shifted in his seat to face me head on. “How can you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Turn things around as if they’re your fault when you’re the one who’s been hurt.”

“I don’t know, why do you always apologize for other peoples’ mistakes?”

He was finally getting mad, and I was glad about it. He couldn’t be perfect. He just couldn’t.

He was still shaking his head. “I am genuinely confused here.”

“Did you or did you not fly home from Ireland or London or wherever the heck you were so that you could take me out?”

“I did.”

“And did you plan a special evening where you got all dressed up to take me out? Did you rent a limousine for this very purpose?”

“What does that have to do with–”

“Just answer the question!”

“Yes. Yes, I did those things.” I could see the frustration billowing up under his eyes. If he were a cartoon character I’d have drawn in some thick, dark smoke coming out of his ears.

“And now we’re late, and now you’ve had to watch me throw up and cry and be a complete wreck and you’re sitting there wondering if this night can even be salvaged. Why can’t you just admit it? I have no trouble admitting it. I’ve ruined it!”

Finn let go of my hands and turned back to face the front of the car. “You are an exasperating woman, Truly.”

That was the best he could do? I was exasperating? Hurt me hurt me.

Ok, but it did a little–not the words so much as the loss of his hands. It was as if his letting go left me exposed somehow, which was absurd, of course.

His face was tight. “We’re going to need to talk this through right now, before we get to the restaurant.”

“Do we really have time for that? Or is that a secret too.”

“We’re going to Hartford.”

“Connecticut?”

“Yes.”

“Why? There were no good restaurants in New York?” I bit back. Why was I being poisonous?

“Have you ever been to Connecticut?”

“Not for dinner, no.”

“Well then, why don’t you reserve your judgment for later, like after dessert.”

“You still want to take me? After everything. After this…mess of an evening and this argument and–”

He grabbed me by the shoulders and kissed me. Well why not? It had worked once before, and it was certainly working now. All my anger melted away until I began to wet his cheeks with fresh tears. He pulled away ever so slightly and I whispered. “I’m so sorry. You don’t want me–not really.” He leaned his forehead back into mine. “I’m broken Finn. My heart doesn’t know how to do this the right way.”

It was the most honest I’d ever been with myself, and I could hardly believe I’d actually said those words to another person.

Finn put my face back in his hands and gently brushed away the tears with his thumbs. “What’s his name, Truly?”

“Who?”

“Your ex-boyfriend. The one who did this to you.”

“It’s not just him Finn. I was broken way before he came along. Just ask my therapist.” Another admission. Only Kate knew I’d been seeing someone. I’d never even told my dad. He knew I had the eating disorder, but he never knew why. At least, he never asked. I guess he assumed it was mom or Jenny or maybe even him. I suddenly wondered if he ever wondered if it was his fault? Which only made me feel even worse about myself.

I broke away from his hands and reached for the glass of wine, gulping it down in a decidedly unladylike fashion until I felt it burn the base of my stomach. Finn watched me and I could see him wondering what to do–wondering if I was worth the effort it must be taking for him not to become what Christopher was.

I coiled back involuntarily, as if he was poised to strike, and then caught myself, but not before Finn saw what I was doing.

He blinked incredulously, then grabbed hold of my hands. “Do you think I could ever, in my wildest dreams, hurt you like that?”

“I’m sorry.”

“No! Don’t you see? I’m the one who's sorry. Sorry you’ve been treated so horrendously by another human being! I swear I’m so angry right now that if I saw that man I don’t know if I could restrain myself!”

There it was again. Another backwards apology. I almost laughed at his oh-so-British form of refined anger, but he was serious and so was I and this was no time for dissociating.

“Christopher.” I said plainly. “His name is Christopher, and I’d be happy to bring you to his apartment. Feel free to hunt him down.” I waved my hand and smirked. “Be my guest.”

That broke the ice a bit, which was a relief, since my desire to jump from a moving vehicle at that moment was ill advised in a cocktail dress and heels. I reached for the bottle and refilled my glass. Finn tipped his up to me for a refill as well. We both laughed and sipped for a moment in silence.

The wine started to fill in some of the holes in the nerve endings and my body relaxed a bit. With so little in my stomach all day I’d have to be careful not to completely lose my cool. He sat quietly, just watching me drink. Then it hit me. He was waiting for me to talk some more.

With a freshly lubricated tongue I started to explain the events of the evening. How Christopher had been drunk when he showed up–how he’d reached for me, and how my neighbor and his wife had pretty much rescued me.

Finn laughed when I told him how I’d taken advantage of Christopher’s drunkenness and thrown him off balance enough to get to the door ahead of him.

“You’re quick. I like that in a woman. I guess I’ll have to stay on my toes then.”

We’d finished another glass of wine and my body was warm from my head to my four-inch heels. I knew if I didn’t eat something soon I’d be in trouble, and I wondered how long it would take to get to Connecticut.

I looked at him in all seriousness. “Somehow I don’t think you’re going to have to worry about that. I’ve never once considered dodging your advances.”

Finn’s eyes almost blinked and he swallowed with a shallow breath. “You.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Are the most lovely woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“While I find that incredibly hard to believe, I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.” I smiled at him.

“One of these days you’re going to have to learn how to take a compliment.”

“You know your dad told me something similar a couple of weeks ago?”

He laughed. “Now that doesn’t surprise me. He’s quite taken with you.”

“With me? Why?!”

Finn shook his head. “Because of that right there.”

I looked over my shoulder. “What?”

“Because you don’t even realize how beautiful you are. Most women who come into the club are so full of their own virtue it’s a bit sickening after a while. You don’t even realize what you’re like and it’s…enchanting.”

If the Brits had ever made the cultural leap into the 21^st century there was certainly no sign of it from Finn’s mouth. He made me laugh.

He also made me want to cry.

I’d never in my life felt so valued as I did in this man’s presence, and it was frightening. Simply frightening.

Best Wishes,

Madison

truly. (Part 21)

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Thu, 01 Dec 2011 12:03:00 +0000

If you're new to this blog, this book's journey begins here...

truly. (Part 21)

He looked exactly the way I’d pictured him in my mind. His deep navy blue tailored suit had a slight sheen that beautifully complimented the shimmering silver stripes in my dress. Although, how he could have possibly known that completely baffles me, even to this day.

I turned each lock slowly, trying to give myself time to compose an opening line, but when I finally got the door open all I had for him were eyes rimmed with tears. The concern on his face bordered on pain, and I couldn’t understand it for a moment, until I remembered what he’d just been through with his family. Poor guy–he’d flown from tragedy to basket case. What a great catch I was turning out to be.

Still, he closed the door behind himself and immediately drew me into his arms. I let myself fall into the sweet smell of his chest and just tried to breathe. It wasn’t easy. I felt the choking around my throat as if the dream and the reality had somehow combined, blocking my airway and sending me into a panic. I started to shake but his arms held me fast.

Finn didn’t say anything for a few minutes. He just let me breathe, and pretty soon the rhythm of my breath matched his, strong and slow and steady. I let go of his suit and took a step back, relocking the door with shaking hands. Finn watched this and the concern on his face turned to alarm.

“Truly what’s happened?”

I moved silently toward the couch and he followed. When we’d both sat down, I took a deep breath, trying to form the right words in my mind. I had to tell him about Christopher, but how?

There was guilt and shame mixed in with the fear, and altogether it was just an ugly combination. Talk about a downer on date night…But it was already too late. Somehow I had to explain.

I stared up at the locks on the door and remembered an earlier conversation we’d had. Finn already knew why the locks were there, if only in vague generalizations.

His eyes followed mine. “Was he here?!”

I nodded dumbly and Finn started gently squeezing both sides of me from my shoulders and all the way down my arms.

“Did he hurt you?”

I shook my head. Not physically, anyway.

He grasped my hands. “Are you alright, then? You didn’t let him in, did you?”

I could see Finn going through the image he had of me and my triple locked door. Of course he would assume my diligence–that I wouldn’t have been stupid enough to open the door without looking first.

But I did. I did and now I was paying for it. And so was Finn.

Tears that had threatened before now spilled over in earnest. I put my head in my hands and let them come. Let them wet my dress. The night was already a mess.

“I thought it was Kate. She’d left here only minutes before he showed up. I thought maybe she was coming back for a bag she’d left.” It was still sitting on the counter and I pointed over to it as proof.

Finn was nodding. “So you opened the door.”

I nodded back, shame washing my face red through the streaks of tears. Finn pulled a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and tried to dab my eyes. A hankie? Really? Who the hell carried hankies in their breast pocket?

I snatched it out of his hand in frustration and got up, trying to somehow dry my face without obliterating the makeup I knew full well was now ruined.

“How long ago was this Truly? Is he still hanging around somewhere?” Finn got up and went to the window, searching already darkened streets for a man he’d never seen.

“Don’t be ridiculous Finn. Come away from there. Do you really think he’s hanging around watching my apartment?”

But as soon as I said the words the possibility became real and my whole world constricted.

“And do you really think he’s not?”

I’m sure he didn’t mean to make it sound as ominous and threatening as it did, but with his hand still parting the curtains I tasted bile and ran for the bathroom again. Great. Now he was listening to me heave. I thought about making him leave, but with everything in me I didn’t want to be alone that night.

My hair came out of its pins and fell down around my face as the next wave hit, but somewhere in the midst of it Finn was there, jacket off and sleeves rolled up, crouched down beside me. He gently gathered up my hair and held it out of the way. He smelled like a million bucks and I was absolutely mortified.

“I don’t remember asking for help.” I managed between heaves.

“You shouldn’t have to ask.” He said softly.

“There’s nothing left in me anyway.” I sat back against my thighs and tried to breathe through the shaking, which had returned with a vengeance.

Finn let go of my hair and stood up. He took a washcloth off the shelf, got it wet, and tucked it in against the skin on the back of my neck. It felt surprisingly good. Why didn’t I know this trick?

Of course, when you own a bar, watching people throw up is probably an occupational hazard. Kind of like Christopher being drunk.

Christopher was a few years older than me, and he’d been bartending since he was eighteen. Not legally, of course, but his family owned a restaurant and he’d been feeding the cops free pitchers of beer on game days since he was in junior high probably.

Like every good bartender Christopher was extremely observant. He was also funny and good-looking and sharply sarcastic. He told me that he’d been drunk at least once on every possible kind of alcohol. I used to think that was cool, but now I just think it’s sad.

That man could make a mean drink.
Unfortunately, he also made a mean drunk.

He was the one who made me that first Caipirinha.

He was also the first person who ever made me wish I was dead. I'd always thought rejection was the deadliest form of torture. As it turns out, being inconsequential is worse. Truly worse.

Finn was just standing there, looking at me, wondering what to do next. The wave passed and I stood on trembling legs. “Would you mind getting me that bag that Kate left? It’s on the counter.”

“Not at all.” He was back with the bag in about a nano-second. Granted, it was a small apartment and he did have fairly long legs.

God, he looked good, even in rolled up shirtsleeves. I was crazy about him, and it scared me to death. I couldn’t afford crazy. Not again.

“How late are we for the reservation?”

Finn blinked at me. “You’re worried about a reservation? That doesn’t matter.”

Doesn’t matter? Of course it mattered! I’d spent a month’s worth of money I didn’t really have on that outfit, but he didn’t know that. Or maybe he’d figured as much.

At that point I was having trouble making sense of anything. I just closed the bathroom door and left him standing in my living room. There was no way Christopher was going to make me a prisoner in my own apartment. I was going out on that date and I hoped with everything in me that Christopher was watching. But I knew better. He’d already moved on to the next best thing on his list.

I hadn’t paid attention much to what Kate was doing, but I knew how to put on makeup, so I reapplied a little foundation and some blush. Thankfully, even through the tears the eyes had stayed mostly good. I could never accomplish the hairdo, so I just arranged it loose around my shoulders and brushed my teeth for what felt like the twenty-seventh time that day.

In the bottom of Kate’s bag was a small bottle of perfume that perhaps she’d thought better of earlier, but I sniffed it and realized it was the perfect mask for puke and tears. I walked through a light cloud of it and decided that was the best I could do.

When I re-emerged Finn was standing by the window again, looking out.

“If you’re trying to look menacing, don’t bother.” I said. Finn raised an eyebrow at me. “But if you’re trying to look wildly handsome you’re doing a great job!”

His smile was like a warm breeze. “Are you sure you still want to go? We could order in, you know.”

“Are you kidding me?” I twirled around. “I’m already fancy!” I joined him by the window. “What are you looking at over here anyway?”

He slipped his arm around my waist and turned me away, leading me toward the door. “Never you mind.”

I looked back over my shoulder. “Listen if he is out there, I want nothing more than for him to see me with you.”

Finn chuckled. “Me too. Now do you have a coat?”

The coat! I was supposed to be wearing the coat when he got there! I sighed loudly and my shoulders slumped.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Finn turned me around to face him. “I don’t feel right about this Truly. Do you want to talk about it? Please, tell me what happened.”

“Can I tell you over dinner? I’m starving and I really don’t want to be here anymore.”

He placed a kiss on my forehead and slipped into his jacket. “Of course.” I walked over to the tree and reached for the black coat Kate had suggested, but Finn’s hand got there ahead of mine. “Please. Allow me.”

He helped me into my coat and gently lifted my hair out of the back of the collar for me, then kissed my neck before he laid it down again. “You have gorgeous hair. It looks so beautiful when it’s down ‘round your shoulders.”

If he was trying to make me feel better about losing Kate’s hairdo it was working. The warmth spread down my neck and through my back until I shuddered. He smiled down at me. “Now you know how I feel.”

“Pardon me?”

“I was standing by the window wondering how I’d get through dinner looking at you.”

“Well, watching someone throw up is enough to make anyone lose their appetite.”

“That’s not what I mean. I mean the whole of you. Your fancy dress.” He tried to imitate my twirly exuberance. “Your hair. Your eyes.”

“You’re joking.”

He put my face in both of his hands and shook his head. “I’m not.”

I stared at him. Christopher was handsome too, and he always knew just what to say. But Christopher was trying to get me into bed, which, granted, wasn’t all that difficult. Finn wasn’t, and I couldn’t figure out his angle.

He kissed me softly and I blinked back more tears. “Can we just go?”

“Sure.”

When we got down to the street level I realized what Finn had been looking at. Double parked in front of my building was a black stretch limo. Oh, how I wish Christopher had been there to see that...

Best Wishes,
Madison

Enter Truly, Part 20

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Wed, 23 Nov 2011 12:13:00 +0000

If you're new to this blog, this book's journey begins here...

First of all, my apologies. We've had a family emergency that has kept me out of town more than in these last weeks, and despite my best intentions to get this written and posted, well - here I am now anyway. This installment is a little short but I'd rather give you something than nothing! The good news is - for the first time in a long time I actually have more of this story in my head than I can get down on paper so don't lose heart and keep checking back!

I also have another surprise for you all - my second novel (Truly is my third), titled Letters From The Ledge, is nearly ready for release on Kindle, Nook, Google Reader, (etc) and right after that, in print format. We're working on cover design right now, and I'm hoping for a pre-Christmas release!

Ok, now back to our regularly scheduled program...

Truly. Part 20

After Kate left I closed the blinds and turned up the music. I swayed and turned and tried a few of the old dance moves I remembered. I felt ridiculous, of course, but that could hardly be helped. I was, after all, dancing around my apartment to romantic music. Alone.

Kate left her bag full of goodies along with the bottle, but any more Cachaça and Finn might have to kiss his chastity plan goodbye. As I twirled past my reflection in the mirror, the room spun momentarily out of control and I suddenly remembered a piece from that dream–the one that woke me up in a sweat.

In the dream I was standing, looking into that very mirror, when a silhouetted figure came up behind me and tried to choke me. I couldn’t make out a face or a voice or any other indicator except his hands looked enormous against my tiny throat. My heart started hammering as I strained to remember any other significant details, and when I heard the pounding on the door, for a split second I couldn’t distinguish what was real from the memory struggling to find its way into the clearing.

Then I heard it again. Someone pounding on the door.

I looked back at the bag Kate had left. She’d been on her way to rehearsal. She must have forgotten to grab it.

I pulled open the door with a flourish and put on a sexy voice. “Did you forget something?”

But when I opened my eyes my heart stopped and I swallowed down a scream.

It was Christopher. And he was drunk.

“Hey baby!” He pushed his way into the room before I could stop him and closed the door. He looked me over hungrily and threw one of the locks, fingering the other two. “Nice work. Afraid the big bad wolf’s coming to blow your house down?”

I was panicking but I tried to steady my words. “Something like that. What are you doing here?”

He came over to me and wrapped his hands around my waist just tight enough to remind me how much bigger and stronger he was. “Aw, now is that any way to greet an old friend?”

“You’re drunk.”

“Occupational hazard.”

I took his hands and peeled them off my dress. It made me sick to think he’d actually touched me in it. “Last time I looked, we were hardly friends Christopher.”

His finger traced my clavicles and he leaned in to kiss my neck. My body responded without my permission and I backed away.

“Yeah, well. That wasn’t exactly my choice.” He started toward me again. “The not being friends part. Where you goin’ anyway? You look…” He searched for the words, genuinely amazed. “Incredible.”

Without warning his expression stung and the poison began to spread. “What, no snide comments? No suggestions for improvement? C’mon…surely you can find something you almost love about me.”

He smiled at me then. His Christopher smile. And I took at good look at the man standing before me. A man whose whispered lies had made me doubt my convictions and whose touch melted my resistance until I was nothing but liquid that formed to the shape of his container, with no form or substance left to call my own. And my heart broke all over again. And he saw. And he knew.

I cursed myself and stuck my chin out. “I have a date. In fact he’ll be here any minute, so please leave.”

“Must be a pretty fancy date.” Christopher slurred. “You never dressed like this for me.” He fingered the material of the dress.

I looked him straight in the eye. “You never asked.”

It was true in more ways than one. Christopher had never asked for anything– he only took what he wanted and left. Again and again. So what the hell was I doing? Fishing? Some pathetically desperate attempt to obtain closure on a seeping wound? This man had systematically ripped my self-confidence to shreds, but not before he played his games that left me bruised inside and sometimes even out.

I used to tell myself he didn’t know his own strength. That in the throws of passion he just grabbed too hard. He did have a tender side, and when he was tender his touch was like angels’ kisses. I craved him in ways that didn’t make sense. I needed him more than food, which, it turns out, was not a wise decision on my part. When he stopped calling I spiraled into a cycle of obsessive exercise and stress puking that finally landed me in the hospital, which is where I met my therapist.

For about a nano-second I thought I might have wounded him, and it somehow gave me a burst of courage. In a move of unrehearsed brilliance, I sidestepped him at the exact moment he reached for me. I managed to get around him and over to the door before he could recover his balance. I threw the lock and willed my heart to a slow gallop, then pulled the door open. I could hear my neighbors talking in the hallway and thanked God for witnesses.

I said, purposely loud and insistent enough for them to hear. “You’re not welcome here. Please leave!”

The murmuring stopped and the couple from next apartment over appeared in the open doorway. “Is there a problem here Truly?”

I looked at Christopher and said, with all the confidence my wilting heart could muster. “Not as long as he leaves there isn’t.”

Rich Beaufort was ex-marine. He wasn’t especially tall but what he lacked in stature he made up for in biceps. Christopher looked at Rich and then at me and he knew he’d been beat.

He sniffed and straightened, then put his hands up in front of him. “No problem here. There’s nothing in this apartment worth my time. I was just leaving anyway.”

Rich stepped into the room, pulling his wife Kristie in with him. “Sure you were. And we were just coming over for a visit.”

Christopher stalked out and hit the button for the elevator with enough force that it echoed down the hall. Rich closed the door behind him and that left the three of us standing awkwardly in my apartment. I knew their names and the basic sketch of their story, but that was about it. Mostly we just exchanged sociable waves and nods in passing.

When I heard the elevator doors close I started hyperventilating.

Kristie was staring at me. “Are you ok? Do want us to call someone? The police maybe?”

I shook my head in the negative. “I should’ve never opened the door. I thought it was my friend Kate. She… left something behind.” I nodded in the direction of the bag as I steadied myself on the wall.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Kristie took my arm and led me to the couch. “Ex-boyfriend?”

I nodded, staring dumbly into space. The heaving came out of nowhere and I sprinted for the bathroom. Up came the cachaça and the bread and the water until all that was left was the putrid bile Christopher’s presence inspired. I brushed my teeth tried to pat my face dry so as not to smudge Kate’s beautiful makeup job.

Thankfully the dress came out relatively unscathed. My heart was another matter entirely. It kept spinning in circles, even after the room had stopped.

Rich and Kristie were still there when I came out.

“I think I’ll be ok now. Thanks so much for stepping in when you did. I don’t know what I would have done.”

Rich shook his head. “Don’t mention it. Anytime you need anything–”

Kristie handed me a slip of paper with their phone number on it. Who said New Yorkers were hard and unfeeling? “You can call anytime.”

“Thanks.”

Kristie managed a smile. “Going out tonight?”

I nodded.

“But not with him.”

I shook my head. “No. Not with him. Never again with him.” I hoped I sounded convincing, because I didn’t trust my heart enough to know what I might have done if he had stayed.

“Well…have a good night.”

They let themselves out but not before Rich reminded me to lock the door behind them–as if I could help it.

I’d let myself get lazy. I knew better than to rip a door open like that without looking to see who it was. I was slipping and it just wasn’t like me.

My thoughts went back to the dream. The choking thing behind me, threatening the image I had of myself. It absolutely freaked me out that I’d remembered that piece of the dream just seconds before Christopher knocked on my door. Was it some kind of premonition? And if so… why?

I sat down on the couch and began to rock back and forth. I thought about calling my therapist but I couldn’t untangle my thoughts. Where would I even begin? I wanted to call Kate, but I was so ashamed of my weakness.

Just then another knock came at the door. My heart sped up and I tiptoed over to the peephole.

Finn.

Part 21 Is right this way...

Best Wishes,

Madison

Enter Truly (Part 19)

noreply@blogger.com (Lynda Meyers) — Tue, 15 Nov 2011 12:54:00 +0000

If you're new to this blog and this book, the journey begins here...

Enter Truly (Part 19)

Chapter 16

It took me three days to convince myself it was really happening–my Cinderella date. I looked up every beauty tip the Internet girly mags had to offer. I plucked. I waxed. I lotioned. I trimmed my hair and deep conditioned my split ends. I soaked and exfoliated my feet. I even went and got a real manicure.

On Thursday I spent an hour lying on my back with cucumber slices over my eyes. Supposedly that was the old school way to reduce puffiness and dark circles, and since I’d barely slept, I figured it couldn’t hurt. I followed that up with some type of concoction that was supposed to tighten my pores. By the time Kate showed up I must have looked like a different person, because she took me by the shoulders and moved me around at different angles to look at me.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?” I asked. “What is it? Did I do something wrong?”

“Oh this is bad.”

“Crap! I knew I should’ve bought a book or something.”

She picked up a few strands of my hair and noticed the trim. “You did all this since I saw you on Monday?” She even rubbed the hair between her fingers and smelled it.

“Yeah…?”

A smile broke all the way across her face. “I’ve never seen you like this. You’re like… a girl!”

I pushed her away from me. “I just want to make a good impression! So sue me!”

She picked up my hand and studied it. “A French manicure? With nail polish and everything?!”

“Look, are you here to help me or not?”

She opened her bag. “Yes! Absolutely! I just–came prepared for a fight, but I can see that won’t be necessary. In fact, a quick little up-do and some makeup and I’m outta here!”

“Yeah, the makeup thing I’m still not so good at. But I don’t want to look like a hooker. I just want to look natural, but–well, a little better than natural, obviously.”

“Don’t worry I’m not planning on creating a monster. I just want to accentuate what you’ve already got. But first the hair.” Kate started unpacking her bag and the first thing she pulled out was a big bottle of Cachaça.

“I already put mayonnaise in my hair. You want me to soak it in Cachaça now?”

Next she brought out two shot glasses. “No, silly, it’s not for your split ends. It’s for your split personality.”

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

Kate poured us each a shot and handed one to me. “It’s for good luck. And to calm your nerves.”

It was actually very kind of her. My nerves were shot, as it were, and as the sweet rum slid down my throat it seemed to burn off all the frayed ends. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. Kate was grinning at me. “Ok, ready?”

“Have at it, maestro.”

“Ooh! Speaking of which!” Kate reached back into her bag and pulled out a CD.

My eyebrows went up. “You made me a mix CD? What are we in high school?”

“It’s to get you in the mood!” She went over and popped it into the sound system.

“In the mood for what? Cheerleading practice?”

Kate put her hands on her hips. “Would you mind just working with me a little here? Now listen, it’s designed to take you from start to finish, as you get ready. It starts out with upbeat, fun ‘getting ready for a date’ music, then starts to slow down and there are a few ballads at the end to get you feeling nice and romantic. By the time he gets here you’ll be perfect.”

“That’s gonna have to be some music selection.”

As usual though, Kate was right. The music began to fill my apartment with energy, and by the time she was halfway done with my hair, I was bopping along. I couldn’t help myself.

“This is a fantastic idea! Why haven’t you ever told me about this music thing before?”

“Well, that’s easy.” Kate lodged a bobby pin between her teeth and studied my hair, trying to decide where to put it. “When was the last time you asked me to come over and help you get ready for an important date?”

“Good point.”

“Mmmhmm.”

She let my natural curls do their thing and left a few strands to hang around my shoulders, but otherwise it was a beautiful, understated lift that made my jaw line and cheekbones look like they were chiseled onto my face. By the second song she was adding foundation and some mineral makeup that was so light it felt like my natural skin, but the glow was beautiful.

I picked up some of the round containers and funny looking brushes. One of them looked like something you’d stencil paint onto a wall with. “Where do you even get this stuff?”

Kate smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I do, actually!”

“Now for the eyes.” She started with navy blue eyeliner, and finished with a light combination of baby blue and silver shadows that perfectly matched my dress. I rarely wore eye shadow but Kate used a light enough hand that I didn’t feel uncomfortable. In fact, I’d never seen my eyes look that way. She finished with some deep black mascara and a light pink lip-gloss.

I looked in the mirror and had trouble believing what I was seeing. It was like I was my own avatar. It was me, but…not. I started to sweat. Good thing I wasn’t zipped into that dress yet.

“I don’t know if I can do this Kate.”

“What? What do you mean?”

I got up and started to pace. “This isn’t really me, Kate. I’m not this girl. What was I thinking? I can’t do this.”

“Yes. Yes you can.”

I started shaking my head.

Kate looked at her watch. It was five forty-five and Finn was due at six thirty. She poured me another shot. I downed it gratefully, but immediately felt it go to my head.

“Ok now let’s get you a piece of bread and a big glass of water.” Kate led me over to the kitchen and sat me down. “Listen to me. You are still the same girl you were an hour ago. You’re just getting dressed and going out on a date. No big deal.”

“No big deal.” I repeated, taking a big gulp of water.

“C’mon now. Man up. Let’s get you into that dress.”

She was absolutely right. It was just a date.

A date to someplace special that required reservations in a dress I’d spent a small fortune on.

“What if I don’t know the right fork?"

Kate zipped me into the dress and pulled out a beautiful diamond and sapphire pendant. It hung at just the right length to accentuate the neckline of the dress.

“Oh my god! You were right about this necklace! It’s perfect!”

The matching earrings had just a bit of a drop design so with my hair up they dangled and shimmered in the light. She put one in for me and handed me the other.

“Forks are easy. Just start on the outside and work your way in and use common sense. You’ll be fine.”

“If you say so.”

“Now the shoes.”

“Why? It’s only six. Why do I have to be dressed so early?”

“So you can get used to wearing the dress and the shoes and the whole combination.”

“You mean like a dress rehearsal?” I started laughing at my own joke. Kate was not amused.

“Exactly like a dress rehearsal.” She pointed at me. “In fact, I want you to walk around the apartment after I leave. Sit, stand, dance, move all around into and out of different positions and feel the dress around you. Let it become a part of you and then you won’t feel self conscious in it. By the time Finn gets here you won’t even remember you have it on. You’ll move with confidence as if you dress like this all the time. And that, my friend, is what class is all about.”

I thought back to all the times I’d watched Kate in a dress and heels. She did make it look effortless. I wondered if half an hour would be enough time for me to look like anything but a stumbling fool.

She grabbed her purse and picked up her coat.

“You’re leaving?”

“I told you–I’ve got rehearsal. Besides, you look like a princess. My work here is through.” Kate waved her hand in a regal flourish and bowed to me. Then she picked up the silver clutch and held it out to me. “Some lip gloss, a small mirror, your driver’s license and bank card, a little cash and some tissues.” I took it from her, trying to make a mental list of the things she’d just said. “Nothing more, and nothing less. Got it?”

“I got it.” I answered, wondering if she believed me.

Kate grabbed me by the shoulders. “I’m so proud of you! You can totally do this. Don’t you doubt yourself! Not for one second, you hear me?”

I stood there watching her leave, trying my best to feel beautiful.

Kate came back and kissed me on the cheek, then stood in my doorway for a couple more seconds. “You’re going to be great. Truly.”

Want to keep going? Part 20 is right this way!

Best Wishes,
Madison

Write On The Edge

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truly. (Part 23)

truly. (Part 22)

truly. (Part 21)

Enter Truly, Part 20

Enter Truly (Part 19)