Book Preview: Serving It Cold Reconstitution of a Troubled Mind

Available on Amazon:  http://amzn.to/2o3g4F9

The Beginning

5/10/07

At the end of Peterborough was a small dark American restaurant that mirrored a lack luster Applebee’s chain, relying primarily on paper menus and bad service for charm.  In the back sits a young couple ready to order and ready to enjoy the end of a long day trying to make the city less intense and more memorable. 

His name was Jack.  Seems everyone knew a Jack and everyone had to tell him about it.  He was of average build and height, but drove himself with a demeanor far greater than his body could support.  He wore a tattered leather jacket and carried a satchel which caused him much ridicule from the beautiful girl across the table from him.  Diane was much too critical in his eyes though he loved to watch her steam up conversation and grow into her wicked self.  His shoes were tattered and worn leather and his necktie had been removed thankfully after a long day of playing at being a professional. 

No one could tell how small town he was anymore – he’d grown into the city he’d loathed for so long.  Homesickness has its own devilish way of pushing self pride to a frazzle, and he had found himself sitting in his car on more than one occasion immediately following his arrival to Boston staring at a road map and thinking about the drive home.  He’d often considered running from his problems.  They couldn’t find him in small town America – could they?

Jack was a struggling writer, operating daily as a freelance reporter for local papers needing a quick story.  Typically he would end up picking up where someone left off writing about the local economy or why Waste Management is filling landfills too quickly.  It was simple and meager but it paid the bills, or at least some of them.  

“It’s not going to write itself Jack”. 

“I know, but have you ever tried to put that much thought into one sheet of paper?  It’s mind blowing”

“You’re not getting any sympathy from me, you end up spending all your time on stories that no one even reads to meet payments on a car you don’t drive”.

Diane wasn’t known for her tact, which is part of what he liked about her.  In her experience she’d drive a point too far because she didn’t know when to say “enough”.  She was a bright and needy girl.  Beautiful in the way a northern girl should be.  She had the curves that kept his mind on track and the personality that kept him in check.  Their relationship was built primarily on sex, but also on a strange kind of compatibility.  He’d often wondered that if the sex wasn’t so good if she’d have watched him walk himself off a pier long ago.  They made a good pair on bad days and a great pair on good days.  He’d often wondered why he never told her that, but she wasn’t the most sentimental of women and often over shadowed I love you with a sweet perverse look on the latest topic of conversation. 

“I need your support, it would be a good change considering the usual criticism you give me.”

“How about we order and try to enjoy the rest of the day?”

“I’d of ordered twenty minutes ago if we could get a waiter over here” Jack had grown tired of the simple atmosphere and aggravation.  His mind was elsewhere and the little annoyances were getting harder to deal with.

“How about we give it a few more minutes, then we can go okay Jack?”  Diane could tell he was musing outside of their table.  Jack wasn’t good at the basics.  He’d had his fair share of issues and though Diane wasn’t known for her patience she would wait for Jack until she was gray.  She loved him. 

Her family had disapproved and had even gone so far as to offer Jack money to walk away.  He obviously didn’t take it and he’s never told her – though she knows, but loves that he feels the need to keep silent and allow her the splendor of her own naïve views of her father. 

They complain and she listens – but an often time doesn’t defend him the way he would probably defend her if needed.  Understanding is another quake of realism that she isn’t used to – barraged more often than not by an unforgiving, over accomplished and usually unrealistic family full of expectations and negative re-enforcement.  It was always remarkable to her the way he could just ignore and move on from negativity, relying on his own view of himself to drive his own will into the minds, hearts, and friendship of others.  He didn’t try to make friends, and he didn’t lie to make nice – he was simply himself.  Blunt true and honest and she loved him for it.

Moments turned to minutes and the conversation grew to departure.  They mused at the idea of eating at the fancy restaurants downtown, but settled on Gyros near Fenway. 

The shadows seemed to come out to them as the buildings loomed in the fading sunlight.  The street widened and pedestrians found another reason to run across traffic almost expecting cars to stop for them, taxi’s skidding to halt and the buildings spreading further until they reached a small open pasture in the middle of the city that looked as though it had been a planned park and some time, but was now the dumping ground for used bottles and cans. 

They skipped over the broken glass to Route 9 Huntington Ave only to make the perilous journey across the street and head back down Brookline to Diane’s Dorm.  The walk was quick but it was relaxing in a city kind of way and though Jack had sworn to hate this place when he arrived, he’d now been swallowed by its romance.

Soon Diane departed up a dark stair way to her secluded dorm room pondering as to why Jack hadn’t asked to come up or ask her to his apartment.

She retired to her floor to grab her toiletries and clean up before sliding into her bed for a good night’s rest.  She entered her small room to find what she needed waiting as she’d left it on her desk, the snow globe that Jack had given her for her birthday next to it, and as usual she had to shake it before she left.  The small depiction of a couple skiing always made her smile.  She hadn’t noticed the open window above the radiator, or the shadow staring at his watch.

She removed her garments, each of them falling into a pile at her feet.  She slipped into her robe, letting the soft cotton slide up her hips and curves to her shoulders, securing it over her body with a quick tie and closing the door behind her heading down the dark hallway and entered the bathroom saying hi to some familiar faces before climbing into a hot shower.  The bathroom steamed up and she heard the familiar sounds of water dripping and short laughs as two schoolmates would enter and find themselves chatting about their latest boyfriend or the unbelievable plot on their favorite soap opera.  She finished and dried off quietly – donning her robe once more for a quick trip.  The hallway was dark, and disheveled.  Up keep was due but seemed to never be accomplished – the old story obvious on the cinderblock walls.  The shower had greeted her with a second wind and she felt renewed to study as she opened the faded white door to her dark room one last time. 

She turned on her desk lamp and sat at her laptop to send Jack an e-mail. 

Why was he so short with me?  She wondered. 

Why did he seem so nervous?

No one heard the snow globe break.  The water and glass smashed hard on the floor – but the music and whim of the college girls on her floor was undisturbed.  The struggle that followed lasted too long for Diane not to suffer – but too short for the shadow to enjoy, he was rushed by a clock.  The couple in the snow globe found themselves broken and tattered, lying discarded on the floor keeping company with the grimaces that followed.

Diane

5/18/06

She didn't hit me exactly.  That is to say, she swung her ruggedly huge purse and I heard the dwindling crunch of what had once been my nose as what felt like a brick slammed haphazardly into my face.  She wasn't the woman I expected to run into.  Hell, I didn't expect to run into anyone that day - but as the fates would have it, I was due for an embarrassing moment.

She was short, but had a special height in her figure that accentuated her thighs.  Her shoulder length hair was tied up and she seemed mildly distressed about the coffee stains I had left on her jacket.  It was mid October and the air in the city had turned cool.  I had just left a Coffee Shop in what I thought was Harvard square when she or rather I bumped into her.  It was the luckiest day of my life - unless you ask my nose, which at this point was swelling and dripping a few small drops of blood. 

"Oh my god".

"Yeah, I get that a lot".  I spat out before my eyes quit watering and I had a chance to focus on the figure that had struck me.

"I didn't mean...weren’t you watching where you were going!"

I realized a few things as my eyes cleared enough for me to see the glimmer of her face opposite my tears.  I didn't want to tell her I didn't know where I was and I was too busy looking at my map to notice her, which would have surely made me bump into someone else.  Secondly - I was crying in front of a beautiful woman. 

"I'm sorry" was all I could get as I flustered more.

"I'm wearing your coffee" she muttered as she began to try and find a napkin in that horrid purse.

"It looks better on you" I came back realizing how dumb this was as it left my lips, so I tried to back up and say something else, but nothing leapt in my thought and I was left with her staring oddly at me.

"Am I bleeding?"

"Yeah, a little - here take this".  She handed me a kerchief that had her name on it "Diane", I said out loud but hadn't meant to.

"That’s me, and you are?"

"Jack" I almost giggled to myself.  Here I was lost and bleeding in God knows what square and I was the happiest I'd been in a few weeks.

After a bit more awkward conversation, we managed to walk together back to the little coffee shop I'd just left.  I rushed into the restroom hoping it wouldn't be occupied to avoid that awkward "what happened to you" discussion with a perfect stranger.  As I stood on a urine soaked floor, I caught myself trying to talk the situation out.  My reflection revealed two black eyes and dried blood under my nose - it was picturesque of Rocky's first fight with Apollo, and I shivered at the thought of going back out into the crowded shop to see her again. 

"She must think you’re a pussy.  What am I saying?  She did decide to come back here with me.  She feels bad.  She hates me."  This continued for a few minutes and soon I realized it was my mantra because someone in the back stall told me to shut up and deal with it. 

I walked out stammering to myself and almost took out an old lady rushing to the ladies room to release her coffee.  The little place was kind of quant in that big city way with the typical "Cheers" crowd.  You could tell the regulars by the comforted look on their face as they sat huddled near their lap tops and small gadgets sipping on the house blend and waiting for a call or a stock market tip.  I saw her sitting near the window and suddenly everything seemed to be looking up.  She had two cups of coffee.  She must've felt bad about the whole ordeal because while I was in the bathroom attempting to pull myself together she bought me a new cup.  As I stood staring - watching her lips touch the steamy liquid, she looked up and I suddenly felt dirty. 

"She smiled" again speaking out loud and not realizing it.  Did she hear me?  Shit!  I realized at that moment, that I only thought I was a "Steve".  Remembering a movie I'd seen recently.

I walked to the table trying to keep my legs and body in check and sat quickly thinking she could leave at any second.  She laughed at me and apologized again.

"It's ok - I needed a wakeup call anyway."

"I've had a pretty bad week, and you just happen to catch the tail end of it".  She said wearily.

"No - I caught the tail end of your purse, which by the way feels like you have a brick in it" I came back proudly thinking that I'd make her laugh.  She didn't.

"Not a brick, just my life."  She seemed serious.  I was caught off guard again.  She noticed.

"You can relax Jack.  I'm just glad I didn't kill you, drink your coffee and tell me why you look so lost".  She mused shyly at me and I once again felt like a "Steve".

I told her about my recent move and how as much as I hadn't wanted to admit it I was lost.  She took a look at my map and laughed when she noticed I was only three blocks from home which I had circled boldly on my map.  She noticed the time and said she had a class to get to.

"Can I see you again?"  I asked nervously.

"I don't know - you think you can find me if circle it on your map?"  She laughed at me.  I laughed at me. 

We exchanged numbers and she left in a rush, pushing her way through the crowd of drones to the streets disappearing.  I sipped my coffee, pulled out my phone and called her.  She didn't answer - and I felt like a stalker.

I started back toward my long lost apartment watching as some “street” kids headed up walkways to other buildings, stopping short to shoot a glimpse back in my direction causing me to inevitably feel like a target.  The buildings were old, some of them neglected and almost classic in a way that you would see an old television show, or movie.  The tall stature reflected the modest size of the overpriced apartments housed within the brick towers lacking the girth required to afford comfort. 

I made the quick trip up the walkway to my building and almost jogging up the steps to avoid becoming the target I so feared being I tripped and found myself staring down into the marble entry way of what was probably once a very extravagant lobby, crying out slightly for the pain I’d just sent shivering through my knee as it clashed hard with the last and apparently most difficult of steps.  The pillars were formed white but seemed to be a dirty cream now – the floor which looked to have been shined years before was now reeking of urine and must, my face a few inches from it, my clothes covered with its residue – I suddenly felt disgusted.  I arose from my short fall to find a few college students heading down the steps looking at me oddly as my once white t-shirt was now a brownish yellow, a reflection of the tapered hatred that had bestowed the building itself.  I smiled lightly and wished them a good day only to feel mocked as they giggled their way down the steps and out the entry way. 

I watched each of my feet pivot off the steps on the way to the fourth floor.  I made it without incident and unlocked the small hole that was my primary expense.    The walls were tattered, the bathroom dirty, and the kitchen was greasy.  The rooms were small, and the main hallway was most often difficult to traverse given the large police lock that leaned hard against the door.  Without fail I would trip my way to the bathroom, curse the lock, and later thank Christ it was latched as arguments sprung outside the door most of which were the disparaging misfit gatherings of college students discussing in-depth the pot crisis or price climbs.  The occasional scream would wake me in the night but I would eventually find myself in the hallway cursing the lock again and thanking it at the same time.  

My keys hit the kitchen counter with a clash.  The apartment was silent accept for the dripping of the tap and the running of water next door.  I sat my cell phone on the table – and headed to the bedroom to take a nap and give myself another pep talk – another reason to stay, another reason not to run home.  Maybe she would call.

Available on Amazon:  http://amzn.to/2o3g4F9