Lisa P Writes

Jim’s tall, lanky frame had made him a target in his teenage years. It didn’t help that he wore glasses with thick black frames when wire frames were the style. His mother bought them at an estate sale and told him that he looked arty. All he could think about was the dead guy who wore them before. Plus, Jim wasn’t convincing as an arty type of guy. He couldn’t keep up with his successfully arty mom. He wasn’t smart, either. The glasses might have given that illusion but he was a mediocre student. Straight Cs.
Fast forward ten years to a different Jim in his mid twenties. He had the same lanky body, but it had started to mature and fill out. The pimples were gone and he was left with a decent enough looking face. The kind of face that women usually just wanted to be friends with but Jim had developed a confident attitude . . .

My mother mentioned that my ex-boyfriend from high school, Doug, had a surprise birthday party planned for him the next weekend. Doug had been my first love. We dated for two years, until we graduated high school and moved off to college. He picked a college a couple states away that specialized in engineering. I chose a nearby state school because it was cheaper and I didn’t know what I wanted to study. Our relationship basically ended when we parted ways to college. We said things like, “I’ll love you forever” and “One day we’ll be together.” But we shifted our focus and grew apart.

We saw each other throughout college only on breaks from school. Both of us dated others and then I moved to the west coast after graduation with a couple of my girlfriends to seek adventure. Doug moved home and worked for his father’s engineering firm. My mother constantly monitored his movements and kept me up on his life. My parents and his parents frequented the same social circle. Then one day she told me he had gotten engaged. My momentary sock in the stomach passed, not that I wanted him. I was supposed to get married first . . .

I left work a couple hours later than usual. My boss asked me to stay to finish a project that he, in his round about ways, blamed me for the inconsistencies. I blamed him. He stayed late to avoid his kids and wife, and he dragged me into it. They paid me well and I rarely stayed past five, but I was too tired to look at it in a positive way.

My coworkers left for the day so I resigned to take the Chicago “L” train. A cab would have been about twenty dollars, too expensive. Three of us took turns driving to work to avoid the dirty underground train filled with various loony and business commuters. The train had been my transportation up until this year, but now I felt spoiled that I didn’t have to ride it. No more lousy sitting on the tracks, pushing back my arrival time, or men in dingy clothes preaching the gospel shaking a tin cup. No more fart smells or overbearing lemony clean scents. No more catching colds from those sneezing and coughing on or around me . . .

“You okay? Can you stand up?” A man in uniform had opened Meg’s car door. He knelt down beside her. “Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think so,” Meg huffed. Meg’s sobs had stopped but she hadn’t caught her breath. “My baby . . .” She turned to look in the backseat and took a few deep breaths.

“He’ll be fine. Just call the manufacturer.” He held out his hand to help her up. “We can check you out, if you’d like,” he motioned to the ambulance. “What’s your name?”

“Meg . . . what I am going to do? I think I’m okay, but . . .” She put her feet on the road and then slowly stood up. She was so confused. The old man from the car in front of her was arguing with the young man from the car behind her.

“What the h$#^% is wrong with you? Are you f@#%^ blind?” he shouted. “You’ve ruined my day. I’m late for an appointment which throws my whole f#@$%^ day off! I should just go back to bed!” He shook his fist at the young man. The young man kept apologizing and finally resigned to throwing his hands in his pockets and looking at the ground. He looked like he was going to cry. Meg felt bad for him . . . after all, it was an accident and could have happened to anyone.

“Alderman, it’s okay, we’ll get you out of here. A car is on it’s way,” the police officer was trying to calm the old man down. “We don’t want you to have a heart attack, you’re very important to this city.”

Meg stared at the old man, red in the face and realized that he was a popular politician. Wow, he was pissed . . .

“Look mommy, it’s short and fat!” Caleb was a normal 4-year-old, curious and observant about all things, especially animals.

“No honey, the giraffe is tall and skinny,” his mother, Meg, shook her head, exhausted about trying to correct the way that Caleb saw things. “See look at those wild boars, they’re short and fat!”

“They’re skinny!” Caleb’s brown eyes lit up. He ran over to the fence to look at the boars. Other kids, were shouting and pointing because the boars were running around, chasing each other. Meg overheard a few other kids telling their parents that the boars were skinny. One dad turned to look at Meg and shook his head as his daughter kept repeating what she thought she saw. He took her by the hand and walked her out of the city zoo. Meg knew that she was a special child, just like Caleb.

Oh that poor dad, Meg thought. She didn’t know how to make it stop either. From the day that Caleb came into her life she had been training him the way that the parenting magazines had advised. Her husband did, too. They were doting parents. She thought she had done everything right but once he started speaking they were constantly at odds. Caleb saw the world in opposites. If she said the water was wet, he would say it’s dry. He was a different kind of child but becoming more common. They told her that Caleb would lead a normal life . . .