About Cynthia G.

Cynthia Gregory is an executive coach, nonprofit consultant, and creativity coach living with a menagerie of two among the vineyards and coastal hills of Northern California.

the barking resumed

Posted on March 26, 2013 by Cynthia G.

OIL IN WATER

Pam Lazos

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Avery dropped to his knees beside his brother and looked Gil over, as best he could in the near-black woods, by putting his face within inches of Gil’s head. Because of the darkness, he gave over sight for touch, feeling the contours of Gil’s face, his head, his neck. He noted a lump on the back of Gil’s head that seemed to be growing. He performed a body check next, running his hands over every inch of Gil: torso, arms, legs. All appeared to be intact and at proper angles. He placed two fingers on Gil’s neck. His pulse was strong. Avery finished by putting his ear to Gil’s nose where he heard faint, but steady breathing. Gil was unconscious, but most definitely alive. “That’s good,” he sighed in relief.

Avery opened one of Gil’s eyes; they were rolled back so Avery could only see the whites. He released the lid and it flopped back into place like a dead fish. He had to get Gil back to the house. Avery looked around for something, anything, to do it with, but he couldn’t clear his addled brain; which seemed as dark and cloudy as the night sky.

Avery stood up, ran his hands through his hair and began to pace. Gradually, the world returned to him. He could hear the whir of the ATV’s motor and Max barking maniacally in the background, noises that had been emitting wavelengths of sound all along, but which his mind in its hyper-focused state had blocked out. For a moment Avery had a brief insight into how Gil’s mind worked during periods of intense concentration. He fumbled in the dark for the ATV’s ignition and turned the key. The motor went silent. He sat down, legs crossed, on the ground. What do I do? Tell me what to do. Lie flat. Stabilize the neck. Avery concentrated on slow breathing, in and out the way he was taught in meditation class, trying to focus the mind. How am I going to get him back to the house? He looked over at the ATV sitting on its side….

Max’s barking had reached such a fever pitch that he sounded like two dogs. What the hell is he barking about? The minute the thought crossed his mind, Avery’s blood cooled. He took a few steps in the direction of the barking, but was stopped by the sound of two successive pistol shots. Avery caught his breath. The barking resumed. On instinct, he grabbed the gun and took off running through the woods.

He used Max’s voice as a guide and immediately regretted not taking the trail. Small branches whipped at his face and clothes as he tripped his way through the dense underbrush. A branch broke open his cheek and a bit of blood oozed from the wound. He cursed and smeared it away. Max’s voice was growing hoarse, but he continued unabated. Avery was closer now and he could hear a man’s voice straining with effort, cursing the dog and brandishing the gun as if Max would understand. The man’s voice was muffled, drowned out by the consistency of Max’s barking and growling.

Avery broke through to the clearing to see the man draped over a tree branch, shining a pale green light at the ground and trying to catch Max in the circle of it. Max leapt in complete defiance of the laws of gravity, making contact with the man’s leg. The man yelped in pain and fired at Max. Avery fell, forced sideways and to the ground by shock and the wave of sound. Max yelped, then resumed with a bark so ferocious, wolves would run for cover. Max jumped and snapped again, inches from the man’s jacket, then spun back and forth beneath the tree, a whirling dervish. The man pulled his gun and aimed it.

“Noooooo!”

Avery turned to see Gil’s shadowy figure stumbling toward him, paying little heed to the tree branches slashing at his clothes and face. At the sound of his master’s voice, Max halted, but did not leave his post beneath the bottom of the tree.

“Max! Come! Now!” After a moment’s hesitation, he ran over to Gil who fell to his knees. Max licked Gil’s face and rubbed his nose all over him, leaving a sticky residue. Gil dabbed at the gooey stuff. Blood. His hands flew to Max’s snout, searching, until they fell upon the spot. A bullet had grazed Max’s left ear. Blood dripped from the wound, caught in Max’s fur where it had coagulated.

The boys heard a thud as the man in the tree hit the ground. Max ran, his jaws wide, literally going for the jugular. Avery grabbed him by the collar just as Max tore the man’s ski mask away. Recognition lit on Avery’s face. That driver?! But….

The man fired a wild shot and rolled to his side. Propelled by adrenaline, Avery reached for him. His fingers grazed the man’s coat, but he eluded Avery’s grasp and fled into the woods. Avery raised his gun, aimed, and pulled the trigger. It clicked. He stood that way for several seconds, wheezing and studying the blackness that had consumed the driver. Gil teetered forward, gripping Max’s collar. Avery pushed back a wave of nausea and scooped them both into his arms. Gil’s breath was short and ragged, the life force weak, and he slouched against his brother. Avery corralled his own erratic breath, lassoing the fear singeing his throat. He might have killed a man if the gun had been loaded.

He ran his hands over Gil’s face and the back of his head, feeling for cuts and bruises. There were many.

“Are you alright?” he asked. Gil nodded and then proceeded to pass out. Avery caught him before he hit the ground. He tilted Gil’s head back and checked his eyes.

“He just passed out,” Avery said to Max. He rubbed Max’s head and Max returned the favor by licking his hand. “Thanks.” Avery touched Max’s ear. The dog winced. A scab was forming. “C’mon. We gotta get out of here.”

He draped Gil over his shoulder, his knees buckling under the weight. They headed for the trail with Max leading the way.

to be continued. . .

this is what happened before

snakes and sinners

Posted on March 24, 2013 by Cynthia G.

read our latest review here . . . you’ll thank us for it later.

police + action

Posted on February 24, 2013 by Cynthia G.

OIL IN WATER

Pam Lazos

Chapter Fifty-Seven

The alarm that Robbie and Jack had so meticulously wired tied directly into the police station, and when tripped, notified the dispatcher of the presence of a intruder at the Tirabi residence. The dispatcher put out the call which was received by Officer Matheson and his partner, Officer Traecy, currently on their coffee break at the local diner.

Tony, the owner of the diner was a young man in his late twenty’s taking on his first business endeavor. Looking to keep costs down, he worked the midnight shift alone, alternating between bussing tables, food and coffee prep, and customer service. Right now, he was out front wiping the counters and listening to Matheson’s myriad stories of extended familial allegiances.

“I’m not kidding ya’. Bud is $3.75 a quart at Farrell’s, my uncle’s place,” Matheson said. “He’ll even give you a to-go quart cup if you want. I used to go in a lot with my cousin, Huey. Three Hueys in one family. The dad, the grandfather and my cousin. Talk about branding your kids. All part of the circle of punishing, I guess.” Matheson and Traecy laughed while Tony restocked styrofoam.

“Just like’s Mom’s,” Matheson said, taking a sip of his coffee. His radio crackled to life. The dispatcher relayed the information regarding a potential break-in at the Tirabi’s.

“We’re on it,” Matheson said, signing off. He signaled Tony for a refill which he sipped with apparent satisfaction.

“Shouldn’t we go?” Traecy asked.

“Nah. It’s the Tirabi kids again. They set that alarm off once a month.”

“Yeah, but what if…”

Matheson waved him off. “It’ll be fine. Just let me finish this and we’ll check it out.” He forked down the last bite of an omelet.

“Hey, Tony. One to go, huh?” Matheson said, holding out his styrofoam cup.

Traecy shrugged. Ten minutes after dispatch called, they were en route.

to be continued

start with what happened here

being + doing

Posted on February 20, 2013 by Cynthia G.

when we blush, we blush with pride and not just a little fiercely.

walking in darkness

Posted on February 17, 2013 by Cynthia G.

OIL IN WATER

Pam Lazos

Chapter Fifty-Six

At dinnertime, Avery walked out to the barn, but Gil wouldn’t open the door. After a few minutes, he walked away. He came back with a loaded tray and a bowl of dog food for Max which he left on top of a fifty-five gallon drum next to the door. Back inside the house, he checked the window every few minutes to see if the tray was still there.

“Would you stop. You’re making me nervous,” Kori said.

“Why won’t he come in?”

“Because he’s pissed at me.

“Why?”

“Well, let’s see. I broke up with Jack so he’s blaming me for Jack not coming around. I told Chris he could write the article about the TDU based on his suggestion that getting things out in the open would actually make it safer for us.”

Avery cocked a single eyebrow, a technique he knew annoyed Kori because she couldn’t master it.

“I didn’t think it was bad to do that. I mean, he did have his “revelation” after Aunt Stella read his cards. I’m not making him do anything he doesn’t want to do.”

“Kori, don’t you think we have enough to handle. The minute that article is printed every guy with an engineering degree is going to be calling. And that’s the legit ones. What about the scammers? We’re paving the way for every kind of miscreant to show up.”

“Oh, stop. You’re just pissed because Gil thinks he needs more help than you can give him.”

“That is so not true and you know it,” Avery said. “I want this thing built as much as anyone.” Avery checked the window to find Gil’s tray gone. “ Finalmente .” He loaded his plate from the pan of baked ziti sitting on top of the stove, grabbed a piece of garlic bread and took a bite before he even sat down. “Mmmmm.” He turned and grabbed another piece. “So he’s happy about the article then?”

Kori loaded her own plate and sat down. “No, actually. He’s mad because I gave Chris his school picture for the article.”

“The ultimate geek picture?” Avery asked.

Kori nodded.

“No wonder he’s pissed. I’d be.”

Kori tossed the salad with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. “I didn’t have another head shot. They specifically needed a head shot.” She ground pepper over the salad.

“Let’s just open up the lame file and plop that little excuse in,” Avery said.

Kori shot him an arsenic-laced stare, but Avery didn’t relent.

“You could have taken another picture. We do have a digital camera, for Godsakes.”

“Alright, I’m sorry. I panicked. Chris needed it right away and Gil was at school.” Kori forked a bit of ziti into her mouth.

“He’ll get over it, I guess.”

“You think so?” she said, mouth full of pasta. “I don’t know. He’s very one-dimensional emotionally.”

Avery shrugged, ground some pepper onto his pasta. “Like you’re deep.”

Kori frowned, but didn’t respond. “What’s he doing out there anyway,” she asked, nodding in the direction of the barn.

“Getting the TDU ready for when “the man” comes.”

“I thought there was only a few hours of work left? He’s been out there for three days.”

“He’s going over the entire machine, every nut and bolt. After Aunt Stella’s reading, he thinks someone’s going to be along any second. Have I mentioned lately what a good cook I am?” Avery took a bite and rolled his eyes dreamily, enthralled by his own culinary talents. “He even gave me the final specs for the patent. I sent it off this morning.”

“Well, somebody might call,” Kori said. She wiped her mouth and put her half-filled plate in the sink. She pulled her coat off the peg and put her shoes on.

“Where you going?”

“Out.”

“With?”

“Who do you think?”

“You never went out this many nights in a row with Jack. Is it just the idea of dating a journalist that’s appealing?”

“Yes I did go out with Jack this much. In the beginning. Don’t you remember when he and Robbie had that fight?”

A shadow fell across Avery’s face.

“What do you have against him, anyway? Other than he’s not Jack.”

“I don’t know. He’s like a bowl of alphabet soup with all the a’s missing.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kori threw her coat over her arm, grabbed her purse and opened the door.

“It means that he’s not working with a full alphabet, what do you think? And a journalist, no less.”

Kori rolled her eyes. “Now who’s lame?”

Avery shook his head. “So is Jack completely out of the picture?”

Kori smiled big at Avery, raised her eyebrows, shrugged her shoulders and left.

Avery shook his head at the empty space. “Women.”

➣➣➣

Avery threw on a light jacket and bolted out the back door, tripping the motion sensor and flooding the deck with light. The night was balmy, unseasonably so for the second half of winter. He inhaled deeply, identifying various scents including the smell of new growth that predates the arrival of spring, as well as wet decaying leaves and cat piss. About a hundred yards from the house, the light from the motion sensor dropped off and with the moonless sky, Avery found himself walking in darkness. Gil worked by oil lamp this evening and the barn threw off only the barest illumination. Avery tripped over a half-exposed tree root and went sprawling to the ground.

“Dammit.” He brushed himself off and blinked several times, willing his rods – or was it his cones? – to become more cat-like, vowing to bring a flashlight next time.

He reached the barn and rapped on the door three times. It was quiet inside and unless Gil had earplugs in, there was no way he didn’t hear the knocking. “Gil. Open up. It’s been like four days already. You’re starting to stink. I can smell you from out here.” Avery thumbed some paint peeling off the barn door. “How much more do you have to go?” He peeled off a few strips waiting for an answer. “Don’t you think it’s time to return to civilization?”

“No,” came the monosyllabic reply. Avery smiled. That he answered the question meant that Gil was probably desperate for a shower.

“It would feel really nice, the water running all through your hair and down your back. Really, really hot water. You could stand in there so long there wouldn’t be a steam-free inch of wall space.” Avery heard some shuffling inside, but the occupants didn’t emerge.

“Hey, The Matrix is on Bravo tonight. You can stay up and watch the whole thing,” Avery said to the door. Nothing. “Well at least come inside and sleep in your own bed. Kori’s out for the night and I want to go to sleep. I’d feel better if you were inside.” He rested his head on the doorjamb and waited. “C’mon, Gil.”

Avery waited so long for an answer that he dozed off, eyes popping wide when his head hit the barn door. He made one last attempt: “Well don’t come running to me if the boogie man comes after you.” The lock clicked open, but not the door. Avery waited, but after a minute, it clicked shut, the moment lost. He rolled his eyes and walked back into the house.

Avery left the kitchen light on in case Gil decided to come in during the night, and closed the door, but didn’t lock it. He also turned the back yard’s motion sensor to the full “on” position so Gil would have a light to follow toward the house. Fixing your eyes on the outside light helped incrementally with the dark parts. He left the front porch lights on for when Kori came home, then cast an uneasy glance around the perimeter of the house, lit up like a stadium for a nighttime game. He wished everyone would come home and go to bed already, then went upstairs to his room.

At 2 o’clock, Avery’s eyes flew open and he jerked up in bed. He touched his arm, still feeling the distinct sensation of someone shaking him awake. “Hello?” He looked around, but saw nothing in the shadows. “Mom?” As soon as he said his mother’s name, a chill ran the length of his spine and his whole body shuddered. He shook his head to clear it, then tentatively stepped out of bed. He peered out the window toward the barn.

A green phosphorescent light, barely visible, swept back and forth across the length of the structure. After several sweeps the light moved around to the other side. “What the…” Another chill ran through him and he found himself pulling on his pants and shoes without any conscious effort. The light stopped, fixated on the door to the barn. Avery grabbed a sweatshirt off the chair and bolted from his bedroom.

He was down two flights of stairs and in the basement in twelve seconds flat, running to the cedar closet. He pushed through the off-season clothes hanging there: summer dresses and shorts, bathing suits, and Robbie’s one-piece surfing suit clanged noisily on their hangers as he shoved them to the side. He lunged to the back of the closet where Robbie stored his gun cabinet. Avery tried the combination lock twice and failed. “Goddamn it!” He banged on the cabinet, took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Please.” Avery tried a third time and the lock clicked open. He grabbed the biggest shotgun without even stopping to load it. He reached the top of the stairs about the same time the roar of Gil’s ATV and sound of Max’s harsh barks flooded the silent night.

He made it outside in time to see the green light of the flashlight flick wildly across the copse and then burrow into the woods, disappearing into the blackness. Gil roared into the same abyss, Max running after him.

“Gil!” Avery ran, his heart pumping wild with fear. Again, no flashlight. “Gil!!” He stumbled and cursed, found the trail and blindly followed the sound of engine, propelled by instinct not eyesight. Until he heard the sounds that made his legs buckle.

He couldn’t distinguish one from the other at the time. It was only in recollection the sounds became clear: the creaking of a tree, the swish of dead leaves, the breaking glass, the crunching metal. Max’s fanatical barking; and the most sickening sound, a dull thud, that of a body hitting the ground. “Gil!!” The tree rebounded, its sleeping branches swatting at the empty air.

The ATV lay on its back, it’s wheels spinning into infinity, the motor grinding on and on, while its tires searched for the missing earth.

to be continued . . .

start here to read more

a hundred years from Monday

Posted on February 2, 2013 by Cynthia G.

OIL IN WATER

Pam Lazos

Chapter Fifty-Five

A few days later, Kori was pulling out in Ruth’s minivan when Jack cruised up the driveway, forcing her to slam on the breaks to avoid a head-on collision. He stepped out of his car, an impish smile on his face, and walked over to the driver’s side. She looked beautiful.

“Better watch where you’re going,” Jack said. “You could hit somebody.”

“Better you than me.”

“Nice to see you, too.” Kori stared straight ahead, ignoring him.

“How come you haven’t returned my calls?”

“You called?”

“Very funny, Kori. What the hell’s going on?”

“Nothing. Why do you ask?”

“I’ve been calling you all week, is why I ask, and I know you haven’t been home because I’ve driven by a dozen times. Then last night one of my buddies says he saw you and some flunky out having dinner.”

“We’re just friends.”

“Oh yeah? When was the last time you lip-locked a friend?”

Kori shrugged.

“Answer me, dammit.”

Kori stared at the woods to the side of the house. Jack yanked open the driver’s side door and pulled her out by the arm.

“Ow….”

“Oh, now I have your attention….”

Kori shook loose from his grip and stalked off across the lawn. Jack ran ahead, hampering further progress.

“What in God’s name has gotten into you? Why are you so angry?”

“Because you’re a self-centered bastard. You waste your time watching sports when you could read a book. You prefer a night of drinking with your friends to the movies with me. You have no interest in my work. But most of all, because you wouldn’t go to the Goddamn public meeting with me!” She said the last with such venom that Jack thought she was going to strike him to hammer the point home, but she just turned on her heel and walked back toward the car. He stared after her, dumbfounded, before running to catch up.

“I’m sorry. If I’d have known it meant so much I would’ve gone with you.”

“You did know.”

“I didn’t. I swear. Come here.” Jack pulled Kori in and hugged her to his chest. “I miss you. Please don’t do this.”

Kori raised her face to him.

“Besides. Robbie told me to take care of you.”

Kori grimaced and shoved Jack as hard as she could. He lost his balance and fell backwards.

“And Robbie told me to watch out for you,” she said, “but not the way you think. Anyway, Robbie’s dead. Gone. Just like you. Just like everybody.”

Jack jumped up and grabbed the back of her neck. He pushed her chin up and kissed her gruffly. “It would be a shame to lose what we have.” He wound his arms around her and whispered in her ear. “To walk away just so you can be the first to leave is a horrible waste of time. Sometimes there are things bigger and more satisfying than an indulgence of your pride.”

“Like what?

“Like happiness.”

“Oh, pull-ease”

Jack released his grip and took a step back, putting air between them. “Are you afraid to be happy with me?”

“I was happy with you until I saw what an egotistical prick you are.”

“C’mon, Kori. This is stupid.” He kissed her again and this time she responded with her mouth and her body. After a minute, she released him. He was electrified.

“Alright. You win.” She reached out and gave his dick a little squeeze. He shivered at the touch. “Call me, say, a hundred years from Monday. That should put us squarely in the next lifetime.” She strode to the van, slamming the door after her.

Jack watched as she put the transmission into all wheel drive and drove through the small forested grove to the side of the driveway, pulling out onto the road before he even registered what happened.

➣➣➣

Jack walked around to the back of the house and, hearing music, followed it to the barn. He banged on the door, but Gil didn’t hear him over the bass. He peeked in the window and saw Gil holding Max up by his front paws and dancing to the Bacon Brothers, Philadelphia Chickens. Jack knocked on the window and when Gil saw him, he screamed and dropped Max to the ground.

Gil lowered the volume on the stereo and opened the door. “You can’t sneak up on a person.”

Jack laughed. “It’s not like it was hard.”

“Where’ve you been?” Gil demanded.

“Home. At work. Out. You want a list?”

“Why not here?”

“Your sister’s not talking to me.”

“So what? I’m talking to you.”

Jack tilted his head, shrugged his shoulders and gave Gil a lopsided smile. “Gilly.”

Gil looked askance at Jack, set his lips in a grim straight line, and closed the door.

“Gil, come on,” Jack said, knocking again.

Gil locked the door and turned up the music.

to be continued. . .

to get caught up start here

little secrets

Posted on January 30, 2013 by Cynthia G.

OIL IN WATER

Pam Lazos

Chapter Fifty-Four

Three nights later, the doorbell rang and Gil and Max ran to answer it. Chris Kane stood at the door with a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a small bag of gourmet dog treats in the other. Gil turned toward the stairs and yelled: “Kori! Time to go.” He turned back to Chris, hand on the knob, body blocking the doorway. He did not invite him in, just stared at him while Max sniffed the bag.

“Oh, yeah,” Chris said. “These are for Max.”

Gil opened the bag and without taking his eyes off Chris, tossed a biscuit in a high arc. Max made a mad dash across the room, snatching it from the air. One corner of Gil’s mouth quirked up when Max took the first crunching bite, but his gaze didn’t waver.

Kori appeared and Chris sighed from relief and appreciation. Kori smiled, waved and disappeared into the kitchen. After a few more moments, Gil took the flowers and went to join his sister, but when Chris took a step to follow, Max ceased his crunching and growled.

“Oh, they’re beautiful,” Chris heard her say from the kitchen. “Do me a favor and put these in water?” He heard the smacking of lips as cheeks were kissed.

“Avery should be home by ten. Gil needs to go to sleep by then.”

“Awww, Kori,” Gil whined.

“Alright. Ten-thirty.” Apparently that pleased Gil because Chris heard no argument.

“You be careful now.”

An older female voice. One Chris couldn’t identify.

“I will.” Another kiss. “Thanks, Aunt Stella.” Ah, yes. The neighbor.

“Well, whether you’re early or late, you know where you’ll find me.”

“Asleep on the couch and pretending not to be.” More laughter and then she was standing before him, smiling.

“What are you doing in the doorway?” Kori asked, the smile brightening.

“Waiting for you. What else?”

Kori laughed and he grabbed her arm and led her away.

➣➣➣

“The more you delve into this stuff, the more that comes up,” Aunt Stella said. She and Gil sat at the kitchen table each with the remnants of a glass of milk and the cookie crumbs to go with it. Aunt Stella shuffled a deck of Tarot cards, tapped them tight and placed them in front of Gil. “That’s why people keep all their little secrets and don’t want to bother with them. It’s just too much for some to think about.” She smiled at Gil. “You’re still young, though. How many secrets could you possibly have?”

“Now what do I do?” Gil asked, impatient.

“Cut the cards three times to the left and then stack them up again on the pile to the right.” Gil did as instructed and waited on Aunt Stella’s next move. “We’re just going to do a short past, present, future reading right now rather than go through the whole song and dance of a lifetime reading. Although…” She placed a hand under her chin and played with an errant whisker, something her eyebrow tweezers had missed. She furrowed her brows, further accentuating the small, almost scar-like indentation that had formed over the years in the center of her eyebrows as a result of this exact facial expression. “Nah, let’s just do this.” Waving a pudgy hand to erase all contrary thoughts, she placed it on top of the cards, fanning them across the table before Gil. Although Aunt Stella had several Tarot decks at home, she preferred Aleister Crowley’s Thoth Tarot Deck as it conveyed more of a feeling of beneficence on the reader than say, the Egyptian Tarot which was to her mind overly preoccupied with the twin themes of death and destruction.

“Pick three cards and place them right to left facing down.”

Gil acquiesced and looked up, doe-eyed at Aunt Stella, waiting for the next instruction. She pushed the remainder of the deck together in a pile and set it aside. Had any of the clergy members, all males, of the Greek Orthodox Church to which Aunt Stella belonged been here to witness such adroit familiarity with the work of Satan they would have blushed crimson and then blue for lack of oxygen. But despite the ecclesiastical indoctrinations of the church, it could not, for all its gumption, usurp such traditions, steeped in mysticism and superstition, that had survived among Greek women since the seers and high priestesses of the temple brought to light the oracles at Delphi.

“You know, my mother had the Sight. She could tell you who was on the phone the minute it rang.”

“Wow. Really?” Gil asked. “I wish I could do that.”

“You can. You just need focus. And some training.” Aunt Stella tapped the first of the three cards Gil had turned over. “My sister inherited my mother’s gift. She can read the cards just by looking at them. Not me, though. I need the book.” She flipped through The Tarot Book, by Angeles Arrien, its pages worn and rounded from overuse. She placed her hand reverently on the cover and closed her eyes. “My second bible,” she said, opening her eyes. “Shall we start?”

Aunt Stella picked up Gil’s first card. “This is your recent past.”

“Why didn’t you get your Mom’s gift?”

“It only goes to one woman in the family, usually the first born, but that varies. The others get some things, sympathetic leanings and what not, but usually only one gets the whole enchilada.”

The enchilada reference triggered a visceral reaction and Gil’s stomach grumbled loudly. Aunt Stella pushed her basket of treats his way and looked up the first card in the Angeles book. Gil pulled out a white-chocolate chip and macadamia nut cookie, so loaded with nuts that there was barely enough dough to hold the cookie together.

“What happens if there’s no girls?”

“Sometimes it skips a generation. Although boys can get it, too, if that’s what you’re asking. And sometimes it does run through the male line. Your father’s told me more than once about your grandmother. Apparently she had it. I think he was always a little disappointed that he didn’t have a full-fledged dose of it, although he was very intuitive, especially for a man. Still, he didn’t rise to your level.” Aunt Stella reached across the table and squeezed Gil’s hand. “He was so proud of you.”

Gil pulled out another cookie.

“That’s enough now. You’re not going to be able to sleep.”

“Yes I will.” He bit into it while Aunt Stella read Gil’s first card.

“The Six of Swords. Excellent. And not surprising, actually. The Six of Swords represents science.” She showed Gil the page in the book depicting the card as if that were sufficient to prove its meaning. “Objective communication is represented by the planet Mercury. See it there at the top. Then there’s Aquarius at the bottom, and it’s associated with ‘originality, innovation and pioneering work.’” She squeezed Gil’s arm and smiled. “This is good, Gilly. It symbolizes the creative mind that pulls ideas from unexplainable sources of inspiration and communicates them in a way people can understand without feeling threatened.”

“It’s the TDU! You see the TDU in the cards!”

“Right there in a full-color spectrum of light,” Aunt Stella said. Gil allowed himself a moment’s smile, but replaced it with a stern countenance.

“Does it say how it’ll do?” He bounced the heel of his foot up and down, the ball of his foot stationary on the floor, a habit born of nervousness.

“Hhmmmm. I’m surprised.” Aunt Stella raised her eyebrows at him. “You usually don’t care about those things.”

Aunt Stella locked eyes with him, a penetrating gaze; he looked down and studied the lines on his hands. She moved over to his side of the table, turned his face to hers.

“You’re not your father. You can only do what you can. I know you feel the burden of trying to save the world for him. And your mother. You can’t help but get that from your parents. But Gilly, you’re only ten, honey, and practically still a baby.” She squeezed Gil then released him so she could look in his eyes. “He’ll be proud of you no matter what you do.” Aunt Stella placed Gil’s head on her massive chest and he shed a few silent tears.

“I thought you said you weren’t psychic?” Gil said, sitting up to wipe his eyes.

“Well, maybe just a little.” Aunt Stella blushed and smiled. Gil reached for another cookie then stopped in mid-swipe and looked up at Aunt Stella first, the question in his smile.

She sighed. “Alright, but that’s it.”

Gil stared at the Six of Swords as he chewed. “What else does it say?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you turn over another one?”

He flipped a card to see a man hanging upside down, bound at the ankle by a snake hanging from an Egyptian Ankh. He dropped the card. “Am I going to die?”

“Ah, the Hanged Man,” Aunt Stella said. “No, you’re not going to die, but you have to forget about everything you are if you want to move past the ego to a place where things really start happening. Break old habits. Release your fear. You’ll do great things.”

“But I don’t feel afraid of anything. I mean, sometimes I’m afraid of ghosts, but only the ones I don’t know, and sometimes the dark, but only if Max isn’t around.” At the mention of his name, Max raised his head, opened his mouth, revealing a full set of molars, and yawned. Gil scratched him behind the ears. Max put his head down and went back to sleep.

“How about this? The only limitations on you right now – since this card deals with the present – are those you put on yourself. Capice?”

Gil nodded. “What’s the last one say? The future card?”

“Turn it over.”

Gil popped the last bite of cookie in his mouth and flipped the card.

“The Seven of Wands. Excellent.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means stand by what you believe. Don’t compromise and trust your intuition.”

Gil sighed, folded his hands on his lap and looked at the cards. “Do they say anything else? Because I’m not sure I understand.”

Aunt Stella smiled and reached for the deck. She handed them to Gil who wrapped his hands around them. “Concentrate,” she said. He closed his eyes for several moments and then put the cards on the table. “Now fan them out and pick one.”

Gil flipped over a card from the middle of the deck, “The Star,” a card from the major arcana. Aunt Stella smiled.

“More of the same, Gilly. Get out there. Do something wonderful. Be the gateway for the light to come through you and out into the world. And don’t be afraid to shine.”

“Is that it?” Gil put his hands under his chin and slumped in his chair. “Aunt Stella, how can I do this by myself if I’m only ten?”

“What about Avery? Can’t he help you?”

“Yes, but…” Gil looked around behind him to make sure Avery hadn’t suddenly appeared out of thin air, and whispered to Aunt Stella, “I think I need more help than that.”

“I don’t know, Gilly. Let’s see.” Aunt Stella pointed to the cards. “One more.”

Gil scanned the row of cards, his eyes running up and down, his fingers barely touching them until of their own volition they seemed to stop and hover about one card. Aunt Stella nodded and Gil turned over the card.

“Ah, that’s what you were looking for.” Gil stared at the card: “The Prince of Disks” depicted a man with a strange helmet sitting in a chariot being pulled by a bull. “The architect has arrived.” Aunt Stella consulted the Arien book. “See that double helix right there? It indicates an ability to build new worlds.” She stopped and smiled. “Gilly, meet your new partner.”

Gil stared back and forth between Aunt Stella and The Prince of Disks for a full minute before speaking: “Thanks, Aunt Stella.” He threw his arms around her, kissed her on the cheek, and went upstairs to bed.

to be continued. . .

start by reading this

evolve or revolve

Posted on January 26, 2013 by Cynthia G.

you can blush if you want. we do it all the time.

clean drinking water

Posted on January 24, 2013 by Cynthia G.

OIL IN WATER

Pam Lazos

Chapter Fifty-Three

Kori and Jack lay huddled together, partially-clothed, a single throw covering them. A soft click preceded the quiet, familiar musings of NPR’s Terry Gross. They had failed to draw the curtains before retiring for an hour or so of love and sleep and Jack cracked one eye open and peered out the window into the expectant night air. Snow flurries added to the soft blanket already on the ground and he groaned at the menacing, orange-grey sky. He rolled over and checked the alarm.

“Kor. Wake up.” He nudged her gently, but she didn’t respond. “Kori. It’s time to go.” He bit her shoulder gently and her eyes flew open.

“Huh. What?” Kori sat up on one elbow and blinked, trying to orient herself.

“What day is it?” Kori stared wide-eyed out the window, her unseeing eyes darting to and fro across the night sky. Jack grinned.

“It’s Thursday. You have to bake an apple pie.”

“Apple pie?” Kori turned to look at him, but the darkness hid his features.

“Two of them.” This time he laughed and Kori woke up. She checked the alarm and fell back down on the pillow.

“Oh, the public meeting.” She rubbed a hand over her eyes and coughed. “I really didn’t know where I was for a minute.”

“I could tell.” Jack lay back down and pulled her in close. “And you said you’d bake me two apple pies.” He kissed her then rose to pull on his jeans. In their earlier haste, they had removed only the bottom half of their garments.

“Where you goin’?”

“To work.” He buckled his belt then sat down to put on his boots.

“I thought you were done for the day?”

“Installing home brains, yeah.” Jack nodded toward the window. “But now it’s snowing. People’ll need me to plow them out.”

“It’s barely a flurry.”

“They’re calling for another four to six inches.”

“By tomorrow. Not in the next two hours.”

“Hey. I gotta make money, right?”

“Jack!?!” It’s a side business, for Godsakes. You said you were only going to do it until your other business got off the ground. Well, it’s levitating. You can stop now.”

“Not tonight, I can’t.”

“You’re just doing this to get out of coming to the public meeting!”

Jack laced up his boots, leaned over and kissed her on the head.

“I’ll be back after I’m through.”

“Don’t bother.” She kicked at him, pushing the blanket off herself in the process, and stomped past him, retrieving her clothes as she headed for the door.

“Kori, come on.”

“Bastard,” she said, and slammed the door behind her.

➣➣➣

The public meeting wasn’t scheduled to start until seven, but the controversy surrounding the landfill and the effectiveness of the citizens group, helped along by the flurry of Kori’s afternoon calls, brought the crowd out early and in droves, snowy weather notwithstanding.

The high school auditorium had seating capacity for two hundred people. Kori, Avery and Gil stood at the back, scanning the room for seats together, a commodity in short supply.

“Can’t I just go home?” Gil asked.

“Gil, what’s the big deal? It’s a couple hours of your life,” Kori said. She turned to face Avery in an appeal for assistance. He shrugged.

“He wants to watch Star Trek ,” Avery said, at present feeling more inclined toward his brother’s sensibilities himself.

“Star Trek is on fifty times a week on seventeen different channels,” Kori said. She bent down, coming face-to-face with her brother. “But this – this chance to make a difference – this only happens once or twice, and it’s really, really important. So come on.” She dug in her pocket and pulled out a handful of Tootsie Roll Midgets. Gil smiled and reached for the proffered sweet, but Kori snapped her fingers shut.

“I was saving these for later, but I guess we need them now. If you take them, you have to stay and not whine and complain about wanting to leave. Okay?”

Gil nodded and she opened her hand. He grabbed every last one, accepting her gift as a compromise. Avery held out his hand and Gil reluctantly handed over a single Tootsie Roll. So buoyed by chocolate, they followed Kori down the aisle in search of seats.

They found them near the front. Aunt Stella’s coat, scarf and brilliant red hat lay draped in varying states of repose across four seats where Aunt Stella sat as border guard. She waved madly when she saw them, her knitted brow relaxing. Kori glanced around, scanning the auditorium again, looking for something a little farther back – in the event Gil started acting up, she wanted to be able to make an unobtrusive getaway – but the place was packed to overflowing with groups of people lining the walls. She turned to say something to Avery, but the boys had already made their way into the aisle and she had no choice but to follow. Gil took the seat next to Aunt Stella who always traveled with treats in her pockets.

Kori leaned over and gave her a kiss. “Thanks for saving seats.”

Aunt Stella waved it off as if it were no big deal, but given the general mood in the house, Kori knew it was a feat almost Herculean in nature.

“Where’s Jack?” Aunt Stella asked.

Kori shrugged, defeated.

“Excuse me? Is this seat taken?” Kori jerked around to see a handsome young man standing there.

“Um, no.”

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

“Should I?” Kori asked.

“Chris Kane. We went to high school together.”

“Oh my God.” Kori gave him the once over as surreptitiously as possible. Whatever resemblance this guy had to the Christopher “D, for Dork” Kane that she knew in high school had long since passed. “You look…”

“Different?” He nodded. “That’s what everyone says. Late bloomer, I guess. Plus I started working out.”

“I’ll say. What are you doing now?”

“I’m a correspondent for The Philadelphia Inquirer, ” he smiled, holding up the notebook in his hand.

Kori gave him a “hmmmmm” and nodded in acknowledgment. She turned to find Aunt Stella’s old crone smile and felt the blush rise in her cheeks. Gil and Avery were too engrossed in Aunt Stella’s candy to notice so she turned back to Chris Kane, a bright, full smile on her face.

➣➣➣

Kori spent the next thirty minutes engrossed. Chris proved engaging and a good listener, something Jack was not. Jack always nodded politely, interjecting when he thought appropriate based on Kori’s non-verbal cues, but this guy consumed her words. He even took notes. Kori felt a thrill run through her abdomen. She stole a glance at her brothers: Gil was working a Gameboy while Avery and Aunt Stella, their heads bowed together, spoke in conspiratorial tones.

“So. What’s your take on all this?” Chris asked.

“Do you really want to know?” Kori responded.

“Of course.”

There was so much she wanted to tell him, stuff Ruth had weaned them on, always talking to them like they were smaller versions of the adults they would become. Since Kori could talk her mother had held nothing back. Discussions ranging from the world’s political machinations to the nature of life and death were commonplace. Ruth was no artist, but it was her love of it that set Kori on her chosen path. In that instant, Kori was no longer sure where Ruth left off and she began and suddenly realized that was the way of it. We either become our parents, their prides and prejudices, or we run far and fast in the opposite direction. And right now, Kori, like Ruth, was finding it hard to keep her mouth shut.

Apparently everything Kori told Chris Kane was fascinating because he’d recorded all of it in his notebook. She talked about everything from the birth of the landfill and the spread of the deadly plume of noxious chemicals to her own personal tragedies, including the mysterious death of her parents and her current position as head of the house. She concluded with the tragic, but as yet unverified, death of her brother.

Chris wrote at a furious clip. “Whew. Alright, give me a chance to catch up.”

Kori waited for him to pause and when he did, he looked at her with new eyes, ones that said they wanted to stuff her in his pocket and keep her safe.

“Okay,” he said. “Go ahead.”

“It’s these corporations that are the problem. And the government’s in bed with them. They make it cheaper to buy virgin products by giving no incentive to buy used, like we’re never going to run out of the new stuff. It’s a pain to separate the wheat from the chaff of recyclables, I know that, but it could be a lucrative pain with the right incentives. And what about the trees? They recycle all our carbon dioxide? The fewer trees we have, the harder it is to breathe. Is it any wonder asthma in children is at an all-time high?” She bounced her knee up and down involuntarily. “People act like the environment is negotiable. Just wait. Freak weather is only the tippy top of the iceberg. Floods, droughts, water shortages. The collapse of the honey bee. Talk about end of days.” She snorted as her mother’s blood rushed through her body, and folded her hands in her lap, concluding her tirade.

“But the science is contradictory. Maybe they just don’t know,” Chris opined, smiling.

“Bull. If the government really wanted to change the way the world did business, rather than continue to let the few loot the common resources of the many, it could give tax breaks to the high-minded companies, the ones that did business with sustainable development in mind. Don’t even get me started on public lands. The government is selling our public resources at pennies on the dollar to the corporations that curry the most favor, i.e., that donate the most election dollars. Those are our lands, our children’s lands. They shouldn’t be for sale, dammit.”

She felt the truth of her own words and believed them with a force she’d never experienced before this moment. And whether it was this force or the fact that Kori felt woefully inadequate to carrying on Ruth’s legacy, she closed her mouth, because if she said one more word, she would break down and cry.

Lucky for her, the public meeting began as a speaker from EPA stepped to the podium.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. If we could have your attention.” The EPA representative, Stefanie Pierson, stood at the podium as the remaining individuals took their seats. The murmuring of the crowd died out like ripples spreading across a pond. A half dozen agency officials sat on stage with Stefanie, each with a microphone.

“As you know, we’re here tonight to lay out our findings with regard to the Stahl landfill and to draw you a road map as to what you can expect in the future. You, as the public, have a right to be part of these decisions and we would also like to encourage you to exercise that right by expressing your comments either here or in writing.”

“What about our right to clean drinking water?” Andrew Dodd shouted. He was a first cousin to Jim Stahl. He sat way in the back, but his voice carried far and away over the din of the crowd. A general murmur of agreement swept the room like a wave.

Stefanie Pierson didn’t flinch. “You absolutely have every right to clean drinking water, clean air, clean soil, a clean environment. That’s the law. But you’ve got to help us help you.”

“How the hell you gonna help us? That damn aquifer’s so polluted even the fish can’t live in it.” The crowd rumbled in agreement, the din in the auditorium growing louder.

“Sir. First of all, an aquifer is below ground and fish don’t live in it. Microbes, yes. But not fish. I do take your meaning, however. And if you could just give us a minute to run through the chosen alternatives that came out of the ROD. That stands for Record of Decision.”

“A minute?! A minute!” Jim Stahl burst into the room pushing a wheelchair, amidst a cacophony of bottles and tubing. Gasps shot through the room when the audience got a look at what had become of the once healthy and vital Vera Stahl.

“I’ll give you a Goddamn minute. But who’s going to give that minute back to my wife, huh? Is it you? Or you?” Jim pointed an accusatory finger at each of the government representatives. “How about you?” He was only halfway down the aisle, his progress hampered by the many bottles hanging from the wheelchair: salines, antibiotics, and, from the looks of Vera Stahl, morphine. Vera looked one step away from needing a hospice nurse and clearly didn’t know where she was which is probably why Jim got away with displaying her in such a vulgar and obtrusive fashion.

It was at this point in the proceedings that – to use that time tested cliché – all hell broke loose.

➣➣➣

The public meeting ended sometime after 11:00 p.m. with both hosts and participants showing signs of exhaustion. Jim Stahl’s tactic of putting his wife on display worked well initially, getting the crowd riled to a fever pitch, but the blame worked its way around again and when neighbors suggested that if Jim’s father would have complied with any one of the missives sent from Pennsylvania DEP the Hickory Hills development might not be sitting atop a despoiled aquifer. Kori was grateful the evening hadn’t been reduced to fisticuffs. In fact, real progress had been made as the EPA and DEP outlined their plan. The water in the aquifer would be pumped out of the ground, run through a carbon filter and returned, clean, to the aquifer, the same theory Marty had used on the family’s in-house filtration system. The downside was that the treatment would likely bring the cost of the remedy up to the forty million dollar range and may take as long as twenty-five years to complete.

EPA told the residents of Hickory Hills that they were to continue drinking and cooking with bottled water while their well water was to be used for the rest. Kori wondered about the wisdom of this – daily bathing would mean daily absorption of contaminants through the skin – and was about to raise the issue when Vera Stahl began a violent coughing fit. When she regained her composure, Jim gave over to the evil glares and took her home.

Gil had fallen asleep during the meeting, a deep REM sleep which followed his inhalation of a handful of Tootsie Rolls, taffy, and half a dozen mini Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, courtesy of Aunt Stella. Aunt Stella had not plied Gil with that much chocolate. He’d found the mother lode while she was chatting and worked it until her coat pockets sagged, depleted. Aunt Stella turned after a long discussion with a neighbor to see a pile of wrappers in Gil’s lap and him out cold. She flashed Kori a guilty look, collected the trash and covered Gil with her coat.

Gil was in the car with Avery now, wide awake and fidgety. He’d have trouble falling asleep tonight, but Kori would worry about that when she got home. Chris Kane had followed her out to the parking lot and waited while she started the car. They stood in front of Ruth’s minivan, awkward and antsy, trying to say goodbye. Gil honked the horn and Kori jumped. He was showing signs of driving away himself so she turned to Chris Kane.

“It was great seeing you again, Chris. I hope you do our meeting justice.”

“Which meeting would that be?” Chris asked.

Kori blushed, and turned away, embarrassed.

“Would you mind . . . I mean, I was thinking that a story on your brother and his, what did you call it? A TDU? That a story on his machine would make good copy for the business section. What do you think?”

“I’m not sure.” Kori looked back at Gil, jumping around in the back seat more like a monkey than the young man who held keys to the world’s better future. “I told you someone set our porch on fire. We’re don’t know if those two things are related. I don’t want anything else to happen.” For the third or fourth time tonight, Kori intuited that Chris Kane might want to lean over and kiss her, but maybe that was just wishful thinking.

“If you’re worried about it, the best thing you can do is get it out in the open. The more people who know about it, the better chance you have of staying safe.”

“Can I think about it?” Kori asked.

Chris nodded. “I’ll call you in a couple days then.”

“Okay,” Kori said, looking over her shoulder “I gotta go now.”

“Sure,” Chris replied. Kori extended her hand, but instead of shaking it, he kissed it.

to be continued. . .

This is how we got here