Tag: Drama

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THE EIGHTH OF DECEMBER

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

While cradling my year old son in his bed after a bad dream, I sang softly to him my favorite Beatles song, In My Life. He stared up at me, his blue eyes moist with tears. Slowly his breathing became calm and his eyelids began to flutter. At last he was asleep and I kissed his eyes, removing the last traces of salty droplets as I pulled up his covers.

Closing the door gently behind me, I went back downstairs where my husband Bill was watching Monday Night Football. One look at Bill as he sat on the sofa, his head in his hands, told me his team was playing badly. I kidded him about being so serious about a game but he didn’t react. I softly called his name and when he looked up at me there were tears running down his face.

As I sat next to him he turned to me, took my hands and told me that John Lennon was dead, shot on the doorsteps of his home, The Dakota. I stared at him in shock. Why would he say such a horrible thing? Who would ever want to hurt John?

He turned the tv volume back on; the game had been interrupted by the report of an incident involving John. I fell to the floor sobbing as the reporter droned on about ‘rapid gun shots’ .. ‘police/John/hospital’ .. ‘dead on arrival’.

I cried uncontrollably and kept repeating no! no! no! as my husband held me in his arms and I sobbed in sorrow and disbelief. We sat on the floor for a long time, clinging to each other, unable to stop my tears or un-hear the words coming from the tv.

At one point my three year old son crept down the stairs, frightened and wondering “what was wrong with mommy”. My husband quickly scooped him up and returned him to his room, whispering that “mommy was very sad about something she saw on tv and she would be ok tomorrow.“

But I was not ok the next day. I was not ok the next week. I was never truly ok after that night. No living, loving soul in the world was ever ok again.

These days, almost 38 years later, as I cradle my son’s babies in my arms and rock them to sleep, I sing In My Life and I remember John. 

NAR © 2018

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PAINT IT BLACK

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

It is raining. Little Joseph, only four years old, is riding in the back of a big black car, his mother Carla by his side. They are following a long flower-covered car. Mommy said daddy’s in that car but Joseph can’t see him. Their car stops; other cars arrive. Everyone is dressed in black. They’re all crying. Everyone follows some men carrying a long black box into a grassy field. ‘Is this a picnic?’ Joseph wonders. The men lower the box into a large hole in the ground and mommy tells Joseph to “say goodbye to daddy.” He is confused but follows her lead,  tossing a flower into the hole. They return to the car. Carla lights a cigarette, smiles and tells Joseph daddy won’t be coming back. Joseph is sad and doesn’t understand why daddy would leave without saying goodbye. Looking out the window he waves bye bye with his little hand. 

It is raining .. again. Joseph wants to play with mommy but she says “No .. I’m busy on the phone”. He goes exploring the cellar where there are lots of boxes .. great for climbing and building. Joseph spots a small box among the big ones and decides it’s perfect for the top of his fort. Just as he’s placing it on the tippy top, it slips from his hands, scattering torn  photos of daddy. There’s a newspaper clipping, too, but he can only read a few words – ‘BOAT’ .. ‘LOST’ .. and ‘ROMANO’ – his surname. Joseph doesn’t understand any of it but he instinctively knows mommy would be mad at him. He puts the box back where he found it and goes upstairs. 

It is raining but Joseph hears laughter outside. From the window he can see mommy and a man kissing under a tree. The man takes a suitcase from his car and he and mommy run to the house. They throw open the door, dripping wet, still laughing. Joseph thinks it’s all very strange for grown ups to act this way. Carla looks at Joseph and scolds, “Naughty boy! Don’t you know it’s rude to stare?” But Joseph just stands there, looking at them. “Well, silly goose”, purrs mommy, “say hello to my friend. He’s your daddy now.” Laughing and hugging, they ran up the stairs, leaving Joseph alone in the hallway. Slowly he walks to the window and starts to cry. Will it ever stop raining? 

NAR © 2018

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CRIME OF THE CENTURY

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Monday after school my friends and I are in our usual hang out .. Carroni Brothers Grocery store. We go for snacks, gum .. typical things 10 year old boys like. I want chips but I forgot my money. My friends don’t have any to loan me so I just walk around the store .. but those chips keep calling me. Next thing I know, I snatch the bag of chips and bolt out the side door. Instead of running as fast as lightning, I toss the bag into a nearby milk crate and squat down next to it. Whew! I made it! Suddenly Mr. Carroni is looming over me. He grabs the bag of chips and snarls at me “Get out of here, you little thief, and never come back!”  

That night I prayed Carroni’s would burn down. No such luck.

Every day that week I gazed longingly at the store from my school bus. 

One thought kept haunting me: Sunday morning .. when Dad and I take our customary walk to Carroni’s for fresh Italian bread, a box of macaroni, cannoli and the newspaper. Maybe I should just run away from home. 

Sunday arrives and Dad’s calling for me to “get a move on!” I keep making up excuses why I can’t go but he’s not buying them. 

Dead man walking. I’m dilly-dallying the whole way .. watching caterpillars, kicking pebbles, stopping to tie my shoelaces … again. 

“C’mon, kiddo! What is this…a funeral?” Yeah. Mine! I start crying, blubbering gibberish. Taking hold of my shoulders, Dad looked me square in the eye and said “Ok, what’s going on?”  

Sobbing pathetically, I told Dad the whole sordid story. Taking out his handkerchief, he wiped my face, held it to my nose and said “Blow. Listen, kiddo, what you did was wrong but it’s over. Now we go apologize .. and not a word about any of this to your Mom. This stays between us guys.” 

We walked into the store, picked out our usual items and walked up to the counter. “Mr. Carroni, my son has something to say.” I managed to squeak out “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll never steal anything from you again” and extended my hand. An eternity seemed to go by but to my shock, Mr. Carroni took my little hand in his meaty one, gave me a solid handshake and nodded in agreement. 

“Anything else?” he asked my Dad.

“Just this” responded Dad as he tossed a bag of my favorite chips onto the counter. 

To this day I don’t think Mom ever knew. 

NAR © 2018

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HELLO, GOODBYE

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

RITA’S STORY


It was the night of the office Christmas party and I was dreading it. I knew Kevin was going to be there. After our breakup, I couldn’t stand being around him. I thought he was a great guy; I was wrong. He was only interested in sex. Kevin never missed a party, a chance to get drunk and hit on me. I wasn’t there long before he spotted me. I turned and headed for the restroom. When I came out, Kevin was waiting…..drunk, leaning against the wall, drink in hand. He stumbled towards me slurring “hey, baby”, pushing the drink in my face. I walked past him but he grabbed my arm and dragged me into the supply room. He spun me around, smashing his lips against mine, tearing at the buttons on my blouse and shoving his hand up my skirt. Somehow I managed to push him off me. Kevin was so drunk, he stumbled and fell backwards. I ran out into the street, gasping as the cold rain washed my body of Kevin’s stink. I couldn’t go to my apartment. Hailing a cab, I fled to the safety of my parents house…..safe from Kevin. 

KEVIN’S STORY

It was the night of the office Christmas party and I was dreading it. I knew Rita was going to be there. We had a ‘thing’ once which ended badly….for her. These parties…..I only go to them because it’s expected but they really aren’t my thing. I pop in, make the rounds and take off. I was set to leave when Rita snuck up behind me at the coat closet. Wrapping her arms around my waist, she tongued my ear whispering incoherently. When I turned around to free myself, she pulled me into the closet, fumbling with my belt buckle. Rita was grinding against me, her dress riding up to her waist. I was trapped by a drunken sex machine reeking of cheap perfume and bourbon. This is not how I like being with a woman and I was disgusted. I just wanted to get the hell out of there. Suddenly Rita went limp in my arms and crumbled onto a pile of coats. I grabbed my jacket and made a beeline for the door. The air was cold  but I knew it would clear the smell of Rita from my clothes and out of my head. 

NAR © 2017

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THE HIGH LIFE

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

The incessant knocking on our apartment door at midnight did not surprise us. Friends were constantly coming and going at our place, commonly referred to as “Party Central”……or “PC” to our closest friends. 

“Michael!” my husband greeted our friend. “C’mon in, man. What’s with the suitcase?” 

“I got a problem, man”, Michael uncharacteristically replied as they walked straight into our bedroom and locked the door. 

Flashback two years when we first met Michael. We moved into his apartment building and became instant friends. He was the coolest guy we knew…..good-looking, brilliant, confident, irresistible and sexy as hell. He was infectious and we soon started living life in the express lane of sex, drugs and rock and roll.  He was fun, wild and fearless. We went to all the best concerts and got into the hottest clubs. We partied every night, went to work the next day and did it all over again. 

Oh yeah, Michael was also a narc for the NYPD……a fact that saved us more times than I care to remember – plenty of close calls but all he had to do was show his badge, flash that smile, talk the talk and we were golden. 

Yet he always managed to toe the line at work, except for that night when temptation ruled, the night he showed up at our door. Inside our locked bedroom, Michael opened the suitcase to reveal hundreds of plastic bags filled with quaaludes. 

My husband looked incredulously at Michael. 

“It was in the evidence room, undocumented”, Michael explained. “I just picked it up and walked the fuck out. Can I stash it here for a couple of days until I make a plan?” 

“Sure, man. Do what you gotta do.” 

They hugged and Michael said “I’ll be in touch soon.” 

Michael went back to work and nobody….not one person in the precinct noticed the suitcase was missing. After a few days, he returned to our place with a backpack. Taking out the suitcase, he dumped half the ludes into the backpack and gave the rest to my husband. “Here you go, brother……….courtesy of the NYPD!” 

My husband put his arm around Michael’s neck as they walked to the door. He turned, flashed me that amazing grin and blew me a kiss. “See ya ‘round the campus, guys.” 

And he disappeared into the night, never to be seen again. 

NAR © 2017

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WHITE COLLAR JOB

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Monastic Gregorian chant serenely filled the empty church. Candles flickered, casting long shadows across the walls. A sliver of the moon was barely perceptible through the rose-colored window above the crucifix. It was very late but the church was never locked as troubled souls sought comfort and refuge regardless of the hour. 

A solitary man sat huddled in the corner of a pew, thinking, praying, contemplating his next move. Occasionally his eyes would glance at the little round light above the confessional door indicating that a priest was available to listen, to advise, to absolve. 

Rubbing his chafed neck, the man stared at his Roman collar now resting on the pew next to him. How many years had it been since his ordination? How many baptisms had he performed, weddings had he celebrated, funerals had he officiated? More than he could count. 

He was a good priest; some might even say excellent. Not perfect by any stretch, but the rights certainly outweighed the wrongs. All except THIS wrong. 

He was no thief, no murderer. No one knew his secret so who was he hurting? He asked himself that question endless times, always able to justify his actions. Even Jesus said that the sins of the flesh were the easiest to forgive. 

It was so natural, so easy. He was happiest when he was with her and yet it was killing him. This wrong which felt so right was eating him alive. 

They were friends and saw each other every day at Holy Rosary Hospital. She was not only an outstanding nurse; she possessed an amazing ability to calm the fears of the dying and console the grief-stricken. They told themselves they were drawn together by their mutual empathy for the suffering, which was true at first. Now the unthinkable had happened. They were lovers, adulterers…..for he was married to the church and she was married to his best friend. 

He knew the two choices before him…..confess his sins, beg forgiveness and give her up or go on living a lie and continue their affair. Whatever his decision, the toll would be unbearable. 

Making the sign of the cross, he rose and slowly walked toward the confessional. Steeling himself, he reached out for the handle of the confessional booth. At that exact moment, the light switched off. 

Head hanging, tears falling, he turned and disappeared into the night. 

NAR © 2017

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BLINDSIDED

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Hard to imagine life without her. When the hell did everything start to unravel?

Now he sat alone in the shell of their apartment, baseball game on the tv playing for no one, nursing his second Dewars. Once upon a time this place was alive with people enjoying one of their famous dinner parties. When he closed his eyes he could hear their friends discussing politics, movies, the crazy tenants on the 2nd  floor … and the sound of her spirited laugh when someone told a dirty joke. 

They were the perfect couple, the envy of all their friends. Theirs was an easy, comfortable marriage – viewing a gallery in SoHo, cycling through Central Park, steamy showers after Saturday morning love-making. They were in sync in their choices of restaurants, paint colors and the biggest decision of all … neither one wanted kids. 

He sat there, head in hands while a thousand thoughts went through his mind. When did he begin having second thoughts? Was it the weekend in Maine spent visiting his sister after the birth of her first baby? Was it watching the kids in the playground across the street? All he could remember was the night he whispered in her ear that he wanted to have a baby. 

She was blindsided. What? No! He was just named partner at Goldman Sachs. She was food editor for Connoisseur magazine. Life is perfect. They had an agreement, dammit! Would she just consider thinking about it? No! How could he spring this on her now? 

Weeks, months went by. She remained adamant, distant. Then one day he came home after work and she was gone. 

Here he sat, alone with his Dewars, ballgame long over, fingering his wedding band, staring at divorce papers. 

It couldn’t have happened to a more perfect couple.

NAR © 2017