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August 16, 2010 in R

By Caitlin Curtis


“I’m sorry Sir, I’ll need to pass you along to my manager”, the young lady behind the showcase looked nervous and I supposed she was new.  I stared at her and considered giving her more grief.  I was aware she didn’t have the authority to refund my purchase but I also didn’t care, sometimes bad things happen for no good reason.

“I’ll go get him now.” She left me alone at the front of the shop.  It seemed different than a week earlier, but then it was rainy today and last week was pure sunshine.  I usually pace when I’m waiting but I stayed stationed at the counter.  I didn’t know what the hell was taking so long for the manager to greet me.  Isn’t it his job to deal with me?  A wave of nausea came over me.  I thrust my hand against the counter to steady myself as I was suddenly overwhelmingly dizzy.  I tried to focus as I heard the managers footsteps come from the back of the shop.  I knew the sales lady would have already explained what I wanted but I was prepared to give him hell.

“Good afternoon Mister Wells, it’s nice to have you in again.”

I stared at him and lost my resolution to fight.  What a nice man. What a charming and helpful man.

“What seems to be the matter?  Did we misjudge the size?”

I could have laughed. I could have punched him.

“It’s not the size”, I tried to unclench my jaw, “I need my money back”.

He gave me a panicked look, ‘I’m sorry Mister Wells, as you know you’re order was a final sale.”

Why is everyone so quick to tell me how sorry they are?  They aren’t.  If they were truly sorry they would change things.

“Because of the special we had on Sir”, he was still talking, “because of the special it does become a final sale, there isn’t anything I can do for you”.

I didn’t have a chance.  I never did and I should have seen it sooner. A lump was growing in my throat and I turned to leave.

“Mister Wells?” it was the saleslady, “You can always save it for the next time you propose”.

She smiled as if this was to be comforting.

“Screw off” I choked.

I wish there had been more strength in my voice.

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Landing

August 11, 2010 in L

By Caitlin Curtis


I woke up and felt gross.  The stale pressurized air in the cabin of my flight was enough to make me nauseous if I really thought about it.  As recycled germs ran through me I rubbed my eyes and blinked into the sun.  I felt sweat on my forehead and sort of wondered if I was sweating more because up here I was closer to the sun.  Thank god nobody was seated beside me, I was a complete disaster.  I didn’t mean to fall asleep but exhaustion will do that to you.  I wish I had thought ahead and not spent last night drunk.  I pulled out my phone to check the time, to see if I still had time to get my act together before landing.  I hadn’t so much as pressed down the ‘on’ button before the welcome chime drew a serious glare from the flight attendant.  There was at least enough time to pretty up.  I pulled my purse out from under the seat in front of me and bee lined it for the front washroom.  Still glaring at me I pushed past the flight attendant and called her a cow under my breath.  She heard me.

Cramped in the disgusting cubicle I dumped my entire make up bag into the sink.  Mascara, lip gloss and foundation to cover the huge black holes under my eyes.  Well, try to hide them.  I brushed my hair and thought that maybe instead of miserable and hung over I looked well worked and contemplative.  It was a stretch.  The seatbelt light came on and sent a shock of anxiety through me.  I was going home sooner than later now.

I was the last to walk down the ramp to the baggage claim.  I tried my best to look happy but I could barely get past the pounding in my skull.  He slipped his arm around with a stupid smile, “How was the conference Honey?” I shrugged and half hugged him back.  He seems to believe these are business trips, and who am I to stop him?

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Snooze

August 5, 2010 in S

By Caitlin Curtis


I half notice that my left arm is freezing cold.  All on their own my legs stretch out right down to my pointed toes and it’s overwhelmingly satisfying. Most of my mind is still cuddled up in a hammock on a beach in Spain. Far in the distance I can hear my dog Sadie scratch at her food bowl and I can’t escape the thought that something important should happen soon. My arm pulls itself under covers and is met with perfectly body warmed satin sheets.  Hammock, sunshine, complete bliss.  My body curls itself up into a ball and sinks deeper into my memory foam mattress. It seems odd that I would have any consciousness at all before my alarm has sounded.  I realize that life is so simple and lovely.  My face stretches itself into a huge smile and every semblance of tension melts out of my body.  I feel the hammock gently rocking in the breeze and wonder if being on ecstasy would feel this good.  Sadie drops her bowl right beside my bed and it crashes on the wooden floor.   She shoves her wet and slimy nose under my covers and right against my thigh.  The hammock comes crashing down as my body twists itself out of her reach and bolts itself upright.  My left arm is tangled in a sheet and my heart is pounding dizziness throughout me. Then I see my clock and wonder how it got so late.  Do I even have time to shower for work? Blasted left arm, always pushing the snooze without my permission.

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Order

August 3, 2010 in O

By Caitlin Curtis


Crawl and then walk, pencil and then pen.

Roberto knew how things were meant to work, he had followed the rules his whole life.

High school and then college, dinner and then dessert.

Lola knew how things were supposed to work but didn’t always follow the rules that Roberto did.  Sometimes she would put her clothes in the dryer before the washer and sometimes she would drink her tea before she boiled the water.

This would make Roberto irked and then frustrated.  Roberto would explain to her that she must dine and then pay, that she must hear the joke and then laugh.

Lola wouldn’t explain anything to Roberto.

As fate would have it, Roberto and Lola bumped into one another in a cave.

Lola had a sip from her canteen and then opened it.  Lola tied up her boot and then knelt down.  Lola put on her coat and then got chilly. Roberto had little and then no tolerance for this nonsense, he wished they could go from acquaintances to strangers.

Then something amazing happened.  A family of bats scattered through the cave.

Richard ducked and then screamed.

Lola laughed and then ducked.

As Lola stood up she echoed and then yelled hello to the bats.

Richard couldn’t stop what happened next.  He watched Lola twirling around and his heart jumped straight from still to pounding.

Roberto did something new.

He kissed Lola and then asked.

Lola answered by kissing him back.

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Hidden

August 2, 2010 in H

By Caitlin Curtis


Allie moved her feet around the water in a circular motion that sent ripples out across the lake.  She sighed heavily as she watched the sunlight dancing across the water, the sun was quickly setting and she would need to get back to the bar to make sure that the singles night dance she had organized was properly set up.  ‘With any luck Chloe took the night off like I suggested’ thought Allie with some hope, ‘tonight could actually run smoothly without all of the extra stress around there.’  Allie let her legs dangle for one more moment as she took in her surroundings fully.  This part of the beach was completely removed from where the surfers, boaters and beach combers would be found.  Allie herself had only stumbled upon the clearing a few weeks earlier when she had taken a wrong turn on an early morning hike.  The water was just as gorgeous here as anywhere else on the island, maybe even more so without the noise and banter of families and children.  The clearing was surrounded by forest and unmarked palm trees and Allie had come to visit the spot whenever she could steal a moment to herself.  With no more time to spare, Allie slipped on her flip flops and hurried back to the Marina to host the night’s dance.  She felt somewhat refreshed as she ran back through the forest and away from the water.  While single’s night wasn’t her favourite thing to endure she was certain that it would be bearable, after all she was the events planner, and she was lucky to have the job.  Allie promised herself that she would come back to the beach after the nights work had been finished so that she could unwind at her own pace.  She was of course completely unaware that once again, she wouldn’t be alone.

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True

July 30, 2010 in T

By Caitlin Curtis


I’ve heard the story so many times, in so many places, in so many different sized groups.  22 years later the details barely matter.

He fought off 5 muggers, 6 muggers, they pulled a knife and then they pulled a gun.  He needed to defend that poor boy, that poor blind boy, deaf-blind boy.  He was on his way home from soccer practice, track practice, football, badminton, chess practice.  On his way home for his mother’s birthday dinner, that’s when he saw them, heard them.  A gang of muggers, a whole lot of them, pushing around a young teenage boy.  Yelling at a child. Threatening a man. Wanting his money, wanting his new Discman, demanding his nice leather jacket.   Arty couldn’t let that happen. His father and boy scouts and army movies had raised him better than that.  He ran over, biked over to the commotion as fast as he could and threw himself in front of the victim.  He fought them one by one. He created a distraction so they became confused and left. He called the police and let justice take care of things. He just spoke to them wisely and the muggers learned the error of their ways.  Sometimes he was beaten to a pulp and he spent 2 weeks or 5 weeks recovering in a hospital. Sometimes he helped the smaller boy walk home to his grateful parents, and sometimes he took the smaller boy home for his own mother’s roast beef, lasagne, lobster.  He was a hero that day. Not that he would say it that way, not exactly.

He might say that the smaller boy found a new friend that day, that he learned the value of asserting one’s self, that he learned to take a punch to the ribs.  I’ve come to think that all versions of this story are true.  In the first few years, as the details scattered I was sceptical of my husband’s ability to remember truth, or favour it to more honourable versions of the tale.  I know now that the story is true because 22 years later I have seen Arty slow the car for ducklings to cross.  He will hold up traffic.  He will be honked at.  He will smile and hold my hand as we watch the ducklings totter across the road. Arty is a good man, either way.

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