Smile

You'll go along with it

It will be okay
I'll make it simple.
We all know it will be just fine.

I don't mind the time that it will take.
I don't live in fear. The peace it brings me
is inexplicable.

Yea. That's what he wants to think. He wants to think
it's grand. Like a waterfall, like our warm sand.
The countryhouse sitting aside the salty air and water.
The white picket fence.
Slight gray skies.
I do too.

The cold snow.
Engines.
Mystery.

It's mine anyway, there can't be two that want the same thing, right?
Maybe. But I care less and less. So does he.

Maybe they will. Maybe they'll be gone in the morning and we'll all smile.
Eventually.
Because we always smile.
Eventually.
And I don't lie.
It gets me in trouble.
Him too.

Who is he? Is he the one in ice and furs, western boots,
the 50's conformaty, hippy shoes, loss of brain cells,
moon boots?

Will he fly to the sky for you?
  
I broke out. And it knocked me out.
Just to feel this way.
Does he?
Does he what?

So smile.
Close your eyes.

Because you know just as much as me.

Good Bye

One note: Thank you friends, for being my friends.

***

"We were perfect together." I couldn't hold very still. There was always a foot twitching or a finger tapping when it came to me.

"Together? You aren't together-- you never were. Right?" Chris didn't understand, he never did. And being my older brother you would think he might grasp at least one thing I had to say.

I felt like he was laughing at me on the inside. Like he really thought he had something better. Arrogance I suppose. "Christopher, when I dream, I dream crazy dreams. I can fly, I can sing, I can murder, I can be murdered..." I twirled my soft long hair around my finger. A permanent habit.

"You're weird Beth." He bent back over his challenger RT. It was blue and shiny. That's all he cared about I'm sure. But maybe I exaggerate.

"I would rather have a 1973 Ford Falcon than that thing." I cleared my throat and fidgeted some more. "But really? An El Caminno SS." I love cars. I've always loved cars. Ever since I was a little girl working on them with my dad.

I remember dad telling me about life. Whether purposely or not. I will always thank him.

"Maybe I was a love child." I laughed a small 'ha'. "I mean, mom and dad married young. And dad definitely could have passed for a hippy." Chris looked at me like I was stupid. "Well, you're the one that said I'm weird." I searched through my phone for one of my 50 email addresses. Okay, so maybe I exaggerate again.

Chris threw his rag down and focused on a spec on the windshield of his shiny blue muscle car. "Beth you really need to--"

"No, I don't want to hear your rambles brother. I've heard them for years now. How I need to be prepared? How I need to make the right choices?" I didn't know if I felt stupid or if he felt stupid. "That doesn't make up for--" I looked through my purse for a cigarette, lit one, and continued, "Well. Can time be found after it is lost?" I inhaled the chemicals through the filter made with more chemicals.

"Beth, I really don't know what to say to that. I mean, I love you." He was annoyed. "And I thought you quit smoking?"

"Enough to judge me?" I started to pace a little suddenly noticing the scent of tar and earth. "It's starting to rain. You should get her in the garage." I stared at the rims. "And... so I started again." I stomped my smoke out.

"Have at it." He threw me the keys and made his way inside.

Have at it he says. I mock him perfectly. "I'll be back Chris!" I yelled it knowing he wouldn't hear me. I jumped in, turned the key, and revved up repeatedly. Chris came running out.

"What are you doing?!" He yelled running towards me.

"I'm living!" I laughed finally realizing it would never change. It would always be this way.

I backed up and then made my way through the streets of NY. South is lust, north is love. Central is right in between the lust and the love. There is a difference.

I have good friends in NY. Many memories. Any good memories are things of the past. The past that can't exist.

While waiting at the stop sign in what was becoming a steady rain, I stared at the clock.

" 6 o'clock. Larry's place is definitely open."

I pulled in the faded building's parking lot. There was a locked fence around it yet it was never locked. I don't think Larry is scared of anything.

I scurried up the black metal staircase and stood in front of the doors getting poured on . The heavy doors opened and I immediately smelled memories. Beer, piano, cards. I could hear the clinks and clanks of glasses at the round table that was always full of politicians. I could smell the pipe tobacco coming from the two old men who always frequented there. I could feel the thick air. Larry turned around and saw me.

"Bethany! You beautiful girl. Where have you been? We have work to do, clients to take care of, mouths to feed, pianos to play." He patted my back leading me to the back of the building. I called it the red room. It was deliciously bloody red.

"Larry I can't come back. I would-- but I can't." I looked down fidgeting for another cigarette.

"You should see Cal." His eyes got dark. His fists clenched. His age seemed to make him stronger.

"Well, I don't need to see Cal." I rolled my eyes and pretended I didn't care.

"But you want to." Larry moved his glasses down and gave me a good long stare. He was handsome even in his age. I know he loves me. But it is a love I can trust. You know, just like trusting a cat will catch a mouse.

"It doesn't matter if I want to or not, Larry."

"Oh but it does."

"It' doesn't."

"Then get out of here."

"We were perfect together."

"You weren't together."

"I don't mean, together. I mean, together." Maybe using two different tones for the word 'together' would make him understand. "We were perfect."

"You don't love him."

"No." I shook my head in disbelief that others couldn't see what I see. "It is because I don't love him, that I can love him." Larry hated how deep I thought.

"Beth. I will tell you something now. You know Mark and Jackie?" He pulled out an infamous Cuban cigar.

"You know I do. I was with Mark. Of course I do." I thought for a moment. "Is he with Jackie?"

"That doesn't matter beautiful."

"He got too deep in the snow white selling. I couldn't handle him. His abuse--"

"Yes. Well, he's been hittin the good guys--"

"He always does." I was extremely anxious now.

"It seems he's become very greedy."

"Become? Seems? Larry I-- what's going on?"

"Cal wants to see you too, Beth. He wouldn't want you to know that. But he does."

"Then I'll go see him Larry."

"I'll be right beind you."


I don't know why he said that but I threw him a kiss and rushed out. It was colder out. The rain hadn't given in at all. I slammed the blue door quickly and sped off.
Oh, if I could hate Cal I would. I know he would hate him too. I'm surprised he was willing to meet me. I'm surprised I got a hold of him. I walked up to the gazebo standing in the field. Nothing but trees, rain, fog, and cold.

"You are beautiful Beth." Cal pulled the collar of his thin coat around his neck to protect it from the chill.

"I thought you were so cold you couldn't get cold, Cal?" I smiled slightly.

"Oh. I've taught you well."

"But I didn't need to be taught."

"But it's nice. Is it not?"

"It is." I nodded quietly walking closer to him.

"Larry says you gotta talk."

"Larry is getting old, isn't he Beth?"

"We all are."

"Mark went to the wrong house. Looking for his filthy money."

"Trust-- I trust you Cal, to just skip the bullshit and tell me what is going on."

"He got your dad Beth." He tried to touch me but pulled away.

I immediately felt my stomach sink into my toes and leak out. "What do you mean, 'got', Cal?" I took some steps back slowly and felt faint.

"You are beautiful Beth. Stay beautiful." His eyes were concerned and full of sorrow. He wanted to hold me. But he wouldn't.

"Bu- wh-- I don't-- I can't--" Stay calm, stay calm. "Please--"

"He was looking for her. Your dads new wife." I heard him drawing cold air into his lungs. "Your dad got in his way" He sighed. "My buddy Frank is a cop. He's looking for a family member to identify the body. Larry and I thought it would be easier for you to hear it from us..." he slowly took a step to me.

"But--" I felt like I was dying. And I'm sure it was noticed.

"Beth, if you must hear something, here..." he walked in closer to me, circled me, and leaned his chest up against my back with his lips to my ear. "I love you."

I fell to my knees, not making a sound, wiggling my wedding ring around. Cal kneeled in front of me and lifted my chin.

"We can get him kitten. But you must not be bad. We are good people."

I wished I could talk. Say anything at all. But I was numb.

"Let me help you Beth. Let's go meet with Frank." He held his hand out to me.

"You're expecting too much from me right now. I don't feel anything Cal." I forced the words.

"You must say good bye Beth."

"But--"

"Come Beth." He held my hand tightly and followed me to the shiny blue car.

"Are you worried about me Cal?"

"I am."

We drove through the foggy streets ready to meet Frank.

"We are perfect together, Cal."

"Indeed."
***

Free Spirit; Response!

As long as you use the word Jesus no one will ever see who you really are! By proclaiming it and preaching it every day they think no one can see their face. They're ignorance shows only to those who truly see. The ones that are blind to it are so because they hide under the same mask. They are not humble, or humbled. They are arrogant and judgmental, to the point where sometimes they don't even see it. By then it's usually too late to go back.

They brainwash and corrupt, start wars with the world and right in their own families. Some know what they do, and excuse anything they do that could be taken in a negative way, with the name of the lord.
By doing so the outside world only sees "good", "Christians", the cliché'.

They don't care who they hurt, because they feel they are enlightened in ways no one else could ever be. They are self absorbed.
The ones that are quiet and gentle like an elderly couple from the elderly church, they don't disrespect, they aren't obnoxious, they don't hurt and try to spread to gospel like people are deaf. I respect everything on this earth, even my enemies, for I am not them. I am me. I must always be me. Yet it is so very hard to give respect when they are so cruel.

They treat us like we are dumb, lost, and blind. We need pity, saving, help, and prayer. I'm not deaf, you and everyone that's important to me knows that. That is all that matters. What they don't see is, the way they feel crucified when a religious hate group or anti Christian person blatantly puts them down, kills, or hurts them in any way... it is exactly the way they make me feel every day.

They crucify me, disrespect me and mourn for me, when in all reality, well, they don't see reality. They start their very own holy wars. It gives them ego. And it rubs against their very own beliefs. The beliefs they think people like you and I know nothing about, when in all reality I know the bible through and through, as well as many other religions and what they hold dear. But they are the only real word; so that is all that matters to them.

You spoke the truth right here... "Religion should be kept personal and lived by that person. Otherwise we diminish the very reason this country was started, freedom from any one tyranny! Let’s leave things like the inquisitions in the past and be at peace with each person’s unique beauty!"

The way they "forgive" people like us because "we know not what we do", places us on a cross. They ostracize us, the way their lord was ostracized. They nail our hands, the way their lords were nailed. They look at us while we bleed by their own hands, and still, cover it all, to themselves and the world, in the name of good. In the name of their God. They treat themselves and everyone around them like they have more rights. More of everything internal. After all, how could people like us possibly have anything, without the Christian God? We are missing everything. How could we possibly know life?

I've never had a single problem, personally, with anyone be them Christian or not in my life... but now-- when I am (hopefully) elderly, and awaiting my physical end, and still believe what I do, see what I see, feel what I feel-- I know what is real. I know what is moral. I have nothing to prove.

I could sit here and preach to them, but I can't be like that. I can't be like them. I could tell them they are wrong, but I don't want to say things that will make them feel pain. We, people like us, lay quiet in simplicity and depth, we stay calm and happy in our hearts and spirits, and then these people, they run at us with anger and hatred. Holding weapons of the cross to save us with.

Well, I can give them one thing, they teach me patience. That I mustn't be cruel. I mustn't get angry. I must have control and just keep loving. Though I rebuke such things and people from being in my life and trying to tear who I am, down. They bring me nothing but negativity. I wont allow it any longer. I remain a free spirit, and always will. With lots of love, privacy, solitude, kindness, calmness, and quietness. In all truth... their hurtful actions, words, and forced "guidance", has shown me strength and control, it gives me more wisdom. They open my eyes more, to all the good and bad around us. They are teaching me; let's just leave it at that. All I need is love and compassion, and I must hold it close, and never let people with their "cause" taint my personality and my heart. Ever.

"To deny the reality of things is to miss their reality; to assert the emptiness of things is to miss their reality. The more you talk and think about it, the further astray you wander from the truth. Stop talking and thinking and there is nothing you will not be able to know."~Hsin Hsin Ming