The guest room was small with only a bed and a dresser against the wall that shared the doorway. There was a mirror above this dresser that expanded the room’s dimensions a bit, but mostly just reflected the sole window that had blinds draped over it, collecting dust. As soon as Thomas entered the room, he was steps away from the foot of the bed and with a slight glance to his left; he naturally turned toward the mirror to see his reflection. He saw that the sleepless nights were growing on him, represented by his drawn eyes and slouching posture. The couch downstairs, oddly enough, supplemented enough sleep for him to sustain standing, but that was all. He felt the sleep dawn on him like a pendulum’s last swing, right before severing the gut’s tissue and like the dark purpled blood that expels from such a cut, he saw that same color underneath his eyes. He stared into this color as his pupils dilated and when he walked closer to the mirror, the dark purple blotched to a frozen blur. He then drew his eyes from this directly to his pupils. A reflective reflection on his life was found within those pupils; how they posed at the center of the red-veined sclera. His eyes pulsated and the back of them hurt. He rubbed them again and again and a heat wave crawled up his back and over his shoulders, so he took his shirt off and stepped backwards, crashing into the bed.
He stared at the ceiling in utter silence. It was that kind of silence he found himself comfortable in with no one wondering what was on his mind but himself; a void that he constantly strived to control, and at times he did and those were the times that he could fall asleep.
“It doesn’t take that long does it?” Thomas said watching Darren. Darren had a lighter underneath a spoon and they both were watching the heroin fused with the water, waiting for it to boil.
“Nah, a minute or two,” Darren didn’t take his eyes off the spoon and Thomas, gripping his knees toward his legs as he sat against the motel wall next to Darren, darted his eyes off the spoon and onto Darren, then back on the spoon.
“Are you sure it’s ok to take . . . I heard dealers lace it with rat poison,” Thomas said while scratching his nose against his shirt sleeve. His arms were crossed around his shins.
“Chill man, this guy’s legit,” Darren glanced at Thomas while still holding the spoon above the flame, “besides, that shit’s in cigs too . . . don’t worry about it,” he said and the lighter went out. Thomas watched him flick it again and again. It sparked on the third flick and Thomas winced at the spoon as soon as the bottom of it started to blacken from the heat.
Thomas woke up with his clothes still on and his head jammed with reflections of his dream. It blackened out when he slipped into the deeper portion of his paralysis under the vague impression that he was being watched; expected to come back down to the dinner table only minutes after he had left George and Kristen, but it was morning now and that paranoia carried over into the next day.
He turned toward the edge of the bed to position himself up and after scratching his eyes clean from sleep, he listened to the sounds of the house and nothing came from inside its walls that caused him to panic or to continue sleeping. He stood up and went downstairs.
The creaks in the wood were amplified for some reason, which caused him to carefully step down each stair with a keen alertness. The first thing Thomas noticed was that the dinner table was wiped clean, not even the white tablecloth blanketed its surface. Instead, the only change of scenery was a white post-it note on the table’s surface that immediately caught his eye as he continued down the stairs. He almost slipped down the final step that landed him to the first floor when he realized what it may read and he didn’t take his eyes off it as he walked closer to it, all the while feeling the thrill of almost falling dissipate from within his chest. When his eyes landed Kristen’s hand writing, the thrill was gone and his chest remained still. Lock the door when you leave, was all that it read.
Thomas drew his eyes off the note and onto the door, seeing that George’s jacket was gone as well as Kristen’s near its threshold, he deduced that they left for work earlier in the morning and then he naturally caught a glimpse of the clock by the window. It was 11:45.
Thomas walked toward the couch and grabbed his jacket, slung it over his shoulder and walked toward the door. He didn’t even take a gander at the place before he opened the door to leave. He shut the door only to open it again, slightly this time, and reached around for the inside knob’s lock. He felt it and twisted it and then shut the door once more.
Thomas descended the steps to see that Kristen and George were sitting at the table. Kristen was at the head of the table closest to the stairs and when George spoke to Thomas, she turned around.
“The steaks shouldn’t take much longer,” George said and Thomas nodded. He didn’t smell anything cooking and made a curious face, which Kristen picked up on.
“They’re on the grill just outside,” she said and turned back to face George. They both were sipping on a red wine that Thomas didn’t want any of, nor did they offer. He just walked down to the table and sat between them.
“Thanks for washing these Kristen,” he said while looking at her and she curved an empty smile across her face, then took a sip from her glass and placed it down again at the left of her plate.
“Thomas, what happened again? You said that some drunk at the bus station came up to you and vomited all over your leg,” George’s tone was less serious and carried a subtle charisma with it.
“Well that’s the bare bones of it, yes,” Thomas recognized his tone as skeptical, but did not acknowledge it, “but he came up to the only bench in the waiting area and shared it with me. He was nicely dressed and around my age,” Thomas’s eyes scattered across the dining room table as if he was looking for something, “he was pretty drunk and started to complain to me about the sharks . . . flyers game,” Thomas’s eyes flew to George as George quickly interrupted him.
“Ahh yes, Kristen,” he said looking at her, “how was the game last night?” Thomas averted his eyes to her and she exchanged glances with him before settling her eyes on George.
“It was fun . . . nice to know that I still bleed orange,” she said and grabbed her glass. She threw the remainder of the wine that was in it down her throat, placed the glass carefully down on the table and repeated that half-smile. George rested his back against his chair and smirked.
“I heard that they lost, ahhh brings me back to our college days,” George turned to Thomas and smiled and let out a heavy breath, “I’m going to check on the steaks; I like them still bleeding, you know?”
He pushed his chair out from underneath him and started to walk into the kitchen, toward the door that led to the back patio. Thomas watched him leave the dining room and then rested his eyes upon Kristen. He saw her smile at George as he passed her to enter the kitchen and when George returned the smile with his own, Thomas continued to see their dynamic transpire. Kristen followed George with that smile fading into an attentive stare until Thomas heard the backdoor shut, then she swiftly turned that stare to Thomas.
“I can sense your concern Thomas; just let it go,” Kristen said. Her eyes did not let up. They seemed distant from the person he used to know and a striking sensation of fear surged throughout his veins. The feeling of being interloped solidified within him and his anxiety began to grow. It went beyond that lazy smile.
“The flyers game,” he said and it came out like an automated voice.
Kristen kept her eyes rigid as they were framed within her eyelids and her pupils coldly pinned in the center, reflecting the low-dimmed light from the chandelier. He almost lost himself and what he was about to say next while staring into them, but then he noticed her wince and his contemplation returned. The skin that revolved around her eyes was like ripples in a calming lake, caused by a disturbance of a pebble thrown through the glassy surface. She nodded.
The back door slammed open with George entering into the kitchen. It spooked Thomas and Kristen just looked back over into the kitchen.
“How do they look honey; they smell wonderful,” she said and George appeared into the dining room with a studious face peering down at the plate of steaks he was holding, coming into the dining room like a waiter with a rag slung over his shoulder. He looked up at Kristen and smiled, then at Thomas.
“They’re bleeding, just the way I like it,” George said. He placed the steaks on the table and reached for the wine before sitting down. “More wine dear,” he said holding the bottle toward her. Kristen raised her glass with a nod and he poured it until it almost trickled over the rim of her glass, then he brought the nozzle over his own and poured. Thomas watched the red wine glisten against the dull light of the chandelier as it exited the bottle and for a reason unknown to him, he tasted his heart beating right up into his throat.
“Forgive us for drinking in front of you Thomas, I hope it’s not a problem,” George turned the bottle a quarter, then up as if catching the final drop just before it had a chance to land on the fine white table cloth. Thomas waved his hand.
“No, please,” he said. He slightly shook his head in accordance with his hand gesture and then coughed.
“Oh forgive me Thomas,” George caught himself before he sat down and it seemed that he almost stumbled back into the chair, “Allow me to get you some water,” he said walking back into the kitchen.
“He’s fine George,” Kristen said, slightly raising her voice, “he didn’t ask.” She glared back at Thomas and the insecurity of his presence among them steadily increased. He fought it with a smile, but it dulled every point of his senses and that smile was just as devoid of intent as his auditory reception. George’s response to Kristen became white noise and he became the void in which it existed.
It wasn’t long until George returned with the cup of water and placed it to the right side of Thomas. The base of the glass clanged against the polished table where the white cloth buffered the sound. Thomas blinked and averted his eyes to the meniscus.
“Thanks,” he said and wrapped his fingers around the glass before the meniscus settled. He then drew the glass up to his lips and cradled it back with his head shifting toward the ceiling and his throat cleared when the water dribbled down passed his tongue. His gulps drowned out the initiating conversation between George and Kristen and he started to listen to it when he drew the glass away from his lips, down back on the table.
“So, how’s Corey,” George said while cutting through his steak.
“She’s doing well,” Kristen said with a piece of steak pitched on her fork and she was about to grab it off with her mouth.
Thomas watched her bite it as soon as she answered George. She smiled at him just before she started chewing and that smile was as sharp as the knife that George used to cut his own steak. It stopped in the heart of the steak and screeched the porcelain plate, which caused Thomas to dart his eyes toward it. He watched the blood seep through the succulent pink center of that steak and pore over to its outer burnt ridges.
“Thomas, I don’t think you ever met Corey,” George said while he finished cutting through the rough meat.
“Corey?” Thomas didn’t take his eyes off George’s steak until his question rolled off his tongue and when it did, he slowly looked up to George, meeting him eye-to-eye.
“She graduated with us and moved out here right afterward,” he said.
“Ah,” Thomas made a reflective pause, “yeah-yeah Corey,” he said with profound conviction and even though it wasn’t enough for himself to remember Corey, it was enough for Kristen and George to not question him about her any further.
They ate in silence with the lights dimmed to a serene humdrum and the echoes from their forks and knives hitting the plates, dicing the steaks and with the monotonous chewing in between, it drew Thomas to blink profusely.
“Hey, uh George,” Thomas said, cutting through the silence, “is it ok if I lie down?”
“Well, yeah . . .” he said and Kristen dropped her knife. She looked at Thomas as George looked at her. Thomas swung his head toward her and as they both faced her, Thomas was the only one that sensed the same feeling he had when he asked about the flyers game. It was his anxiety and it grew when that knife clanged against the plate like a strike of a match against red phosphorous. His anxiety sparked just as bright. They both waited for her say what Thomas thought her face was saying, but all that she said was what George was going to say.
“Take the guest room. Second door on your right,” She continued to eat her steak and sip her wine.
“Don’t worry about your plate Thomas,” George followed up with saying. He smiled and Thomas nodded, then excused himself and walked from the dining room table to the stairs. Before he took the first step, he looked at both of them.
“Thank you,” he said. Only George nodded and smiled before he cut into his steak again. Kristen remained silent, sipping her wine and she didn’t turn around toward him.
That same silver grey flooded the wooden floor when George walked through the front door of Kristen’s Victorian. His posh leathered shoes clapped against the floorboards as he walked in, shutting the door behind him and placing his duffle bag, along with his laptop bag slung around his shoulder, down to those floorboards. Thomas got up while Kristen remained seated on the couch.
“George, hey man,” Thomas said. He covertly dried his sweaty palms against his sweatpants before approaching him with one hand extending to shake his hand.
“Thomas! What a surprise,” he said with his eyebrows jolting passed the frame of his glasses. He walked passed Thomas without recognizing his open hand and approached Kristen on the couch. She stood up and they hugged. Thomas slightly followed him by turning but then subtly turned away, scratching his left eyebrow as Kristen and George embraced each other.
“How was your flight?” Kristen said.
“Good, good . . . hmm,” George glanced at Thomas and Thomas perked a half smile, “Can we huh talk in the kitchen,” he said turning back to Kristen.
“Yeah,” Kristen smiled at Thomas and then they both walked into the kitchen passed where the fridge was. Thomas could only see George’s back in the reflection of that kitchen window. His smile immediately faded while listening to their incoherent whispers. George’s were sometimes louder than Kristen’s, but Kristen’s trumped them periodically. Thomas was about to just leave, but when he heard them stop talking, his decision changed. They came back out with George leading.
“So, what brings you here Thomas?” he said.
“Oh ahh,” Thomas let his words dribble through his lips as if he couldn’t control how they exited his mouth, “umm, I . . . I just wanted to see Kristen uh, I wasn’t doing so good today and needed to see a familiar face to be around,” he said while rubbing his face here and there.
“Like old times huh,” George said.
“Well, yeah but not so much, I was having an off day and decided to take the bus in . . . after calling Kristen of course,” he said.
“He did call me,” Kristen said looking at George, “I told him he could come over.”
George looked at Kristen then at Thomas, “So your depression isn’t doing so well,” he said and Thomas nodded while still staring down at the floor. Thomas raised his head to him after nodding, seemingly discontent with eyes winced. George walked over to him and as his shoes clapped against the wooden floor, he put his hands into his pockets. “Thomas, I understand what you are going through . . . my sister has the same thing and she sees her therapist,” he took one hand out of his pocket and swayed it toward the couch, “take a seat, I was actually thinking about you earlier today.”
Thomas threw a glance at Kristen and it flew right by George as he started to walk toward the couch. Kristen ignored Thomas’s glance and made her way to the lazy boy adjacent to the couch, facing the window that was to the right of the front door of the Victorian. She landed on its cushion as Thomas turned for the couch to sit next to George. He sat down and George threw a friendly slap onto his knee.
“Thomas, how long have we known each other, a few years now right?” His eyes did not leave the coffee table until a few moments after his hand landed on Thomas’s knee. Thomas only moved his eyes to George’s hand, then at his face. They locked eyes.
“Since our last year at Rutgers,” Thomas said.
“Yeah,” George said with a smile, “that last year really solidified our friendship. Remember I was hurting over Sonya and you came over and we just day drank and shot the shit?”
“How could I forget man, that really got my head out of my ass,” Thomas chuckled a bit and Kristen chimed in.
“You never told me about that George,” she said. George looked over to her.
“Sonya, of course I did,” he said as he lifted his hand off Thomas’s knee.
“No, day drinking with Thomas,” she said with her head jutting toward Thomas while lifting a hand in the same direction.
“It was before dating you Kristen and it was only one time,” Thomas said with his eyes rolling off George and onto her. He drew them back to George.
“Wait, was it that time Sonya and I arrived for dinner at your mother’s and,” Kristen’s facial expression delved into a deep recalling look that Thomas studied after switching glances from George, and back to her, “and you were supposed to be there, but . . .” George turned his head back to Thomas.
“Thomas disappeared before you got there,” George’s smile slanted into a weary angle, “and since then I had a clue of what you were dealing with . . . isolating yourself is never good Thomas, but returning to why you isolate yourself is even worse,” he said.
“You let him drive home drunk George?!” Kristen’s voice cracked.
Thomas immediately rose to his feet as soon as George’s words left his mouth. They both followed him somewhat startled. Then, George looked at Kristen.
“He left before I had the chance to stop him. He said he was going to the bathroom.” George sustained a calming voice, “but I am not trying to make Thomas look like the bad guy here,” he drew his eyes back at Thomas, now standing, “I am just trying to help,” he said.
“I . . . I,” Thomas shook his head, “I mean, you’re right George, you’re right,” he let out an elongated sigh, “I need to see a therapist; and I will,” he said and looked around the room, then at Kristen and George.
“Kristen stood up. “Thomas why did you drink and drive?!”
“Kristen, I don’t do that anymore, none of it,” he said. George looked back at his wife.
“Dear, it’s a part of the past and we are here to overlook it and focus on what we can do for Thomas now,” George’s voice slightly rose.
“It’s ok guys – really – I should just go,” and Thomas started to turn toward the door, but George stood up. Kristen collapsed her face into her hands and sighed.
“Non-sense Thomas,” he said and shook his head with his chin hanging low, “I am mentioning this not because I want you to leave, but because I want you to seek the help that you need,” he lifted his arm and placed his hand on Thomas’s shoulder, “I also want to rekindle that friendship in a way, I – we can’t just ignore a friend,” he looked back at Kristen, “right honey,” he said and returned his calm expression to Thomas. “Please, stay for dinner at least.” Kristen lifted her head out of her palms and looked at Thomas.
“Sure, stay for dinner,” she said and she turned toward the kitchen, “I’ll get your jeans.”
George glanced at the sweat pants Thomas was wearing, and then turned toward Kristen.
“Jeans?” he said.
“I’ll uh, tell you during dinner,” Thomas said, scratching the back of his neck with a light smile beginning to crack on his face, “it’s not what you think.” Thomas followed with a half-hearted laugh and George just raised an eyebrow, then shared the laugh with a quick chuckle.
“Well, what happened? You didn’t have an accident did you?” George said.
“Nah, no . . . um there was this guy at the bus stop, he was drunk and just spewed all over me, I uh came to close to see if he was alright and out came his vomit,” Thomas shot his hands up in a subtle way with his eyes widening, but his voice stayed level.
“Ha, you were always the Good Samaritan type Thomas,” George said while moving into the kitchen, “could you help me set the table?”
“Yes, of course,” Thomas said and he started to follow George around the fridge. George opened the cabinet and started to hand him a series of plates.
“I hope you don’t mind steak, I just bought a few slabs of this tender sirloin before I left to see my parents. Kinda the only thing that got me through visiting them – you know what I mean,” George jabbed him in the side and he almost dropped the plates.
“Oh, careful,” he followed up saying.
“Thomas nodded with a smile, “no I don’t think I do,” he said.
“My parents drive me nuts,” George said.
“Right on,” Thomas let out a slight laugh then gestured the plates toward the dining room, “uh out to the table?”
“Yes, please,” George said with a nod. Thomas carried them out and placed them next to the pottery that Kristen’s mother had made. They were still collecting dust.
“Uh, George, what should I do with the pottery here?” Thomas asked. He listened to George opening the freezer and before he responded, he cursed. Thomas remained still and continued to listen. In a matter of seconds Kristen returned from the basement.
“What’s going on?” she asked. Thomas carefully walked closer to the kitchen, but remained unseen.
“I just have to thaw them out, I forgot about that . . . it’s going to take awhile,” George said.
“Well here, let’s get ’em started,” Thomas heard Kristen say. He followed the noises of them moving from the fridge to the sink. It turned on and the water crashed against the hollow metal of the sink’s base. Thomas moved to the wall between the dining room and the kitchen, peaking over its edge and he saw Kristen comforting George by the sink with his jeans draped over her forearm. She had her arms wrapped around his waist and her chin snug into his neck. They seemed to be two flamingos, relying on each other to stay standing and Thomas backed off from the wall’s edge. He found himself not breathing and soon after inhaled while finding a sense of composure. He gliding back to the dining room table, grabbed the pottery and placed them on the hutch against the far wall of the room, then he started to set the plates with two at each head of the table and one in the middle. Kristen entered the dining room when he placed his plate down.
“Here’s your jeans,” she said while walking to him with them in her hand. He grabbed them from her.
“Thanks uh, where can I change?” He lowered them in his hand, bringing them to his side.
“You can go up stairs, any room is fine,” she said, subtly pointing up to the ceiling. Thomas began to walk toward the stairs and when he placed his hand on the railing, he looked up to the second floor.
“When you get back down, I’m sure the steaks will be grilling,” Kristen said. Thomas didn’t look at her, but down and nodded, then he ascended the steps.
“Would you put the phone down and look at this,” Thomas said with Kristen resting in his lap as they both sat on a precipice overlooking Minnewaska Lake. The evergreens sprouted as far as the eye could see and right where the lake met the rocky cliff across from where they were, they gazed upon the vast open country. It reflected off the smoothness of the lake’s surface in shades of the dusking sun; orange mixed with a fiery yellow. The nimbus clouds floating in the sky intercepted the rays, cutting them into elegant beams that made the water twinkle as well as highlighting the bulbous edges of these clouds.
“Yea, it’s beautiful,” she said without taking her eyes off the screen of her phone.
“You’re not even looking,” Thomas had his arm around her neck and shoulder and lifted his hand toward the spectacle. Kristen followed his hand with her eyes then dragged them back to the phone.
“I’m used to this,” she said, “I grew up here.”
“Yeah, I don’t get this at home,” Thomas said with his face enamored by the scenery.
“Hey, but you get the beach, I think that’s beautiful and I bet you take that for granted, right?” Kristen moved her head toward his chin trying to look up at him. He met her eyes with his and then she looked back at her phone.
“True, but I would settle for this over that any day,” he said. Kristen moved from resting against his chest to just sitting next to him and he pulled his arm away and off from around her neck and shoulders.
“Let’s get a picture,” she said, opening the camera app in her phone. She looked around and her hair at shoulder-length flowed with the movement. Thomas followed her by looking around too.
“What is it?” he said.
There was a small family of four with a shaggy golden retriever making their way up to the precipice where Thomas and Kristen were. “No one is going to take our bikes Kristen,” he said.
“No silly,” Kristen playfully slapped him on the shoulder, “They can take our picture,” she said.
“Oh,” Thomas glanced back at the sun setting.
“Don’t be so paranoid,” she got up to her feet, “quick, before the sun goes down,” she said.
Thomas looked back at her walking to the family and he rose to his feet. He waited at the precipice looking down at the water and watched a few swimmers glide through its serene composition like slithering snakes. From the height where they were, he could not discern the splashing made by their flailing arms and kicking legs. Thomas heard Kristen faintly in the back ground saying “excuse me” to the family as he looked down and before he turned his head toward her, he felt a gentle push in his thigh. It was subtle, but just enough to have him feel a slight uneasiness of vertigo. The family’s golden retriever spooked him as it greeted him while painting and wagging its fluffy almost-white tail. Thomas moved away from the edge and knelt down toward the dog to pet it. He only coursed his hand through the dog’s hairy head twice when the father of the family yelled for his dog to get away from the edge and Thomas looked up.
“Thomas, quit messing around and come over here!” Kristen said as she handed her phone to the father. He was wearing a Northface fleece with khaki pants, walking behind Kristen while looking through the phone squinting. His dog ran up to him and jumped where he settled it back down and told it to run toward his family with pointing a finger.
“Where do you want me,” the father said now looking up at Thomas and Kristen.
“We’ll stand here,” and Kristen grabbed Thomas by the waist and moved him toward her. He naturally threw his arm around her shoulders facing their backs toward the sunset.
“I’m going to have to move over here,” the father said pointing the phone toward their left, “The glare from the sun is obstructing a good shot.”
“We could move over a bit too,” Kristen said and Thomas looked to his right.
“Over here,” Thomas said gesturing his head in that direction. They were still conjoined at the hip.
“Hmmm, ok,” Kristen nodded and they both began to move over, “Thomas, get your arm off of me. I can’t move with it there,” she said.
“Oh, sorry,” He dropped his arm and they repositioned against the glare while the father of the family waited for them, still holding the phone up for a good shot.
“That’s good . . . right there,” he said and snapped the photo. Thomas and Kristen posed again. “I am going to take a few more, ok?”
Staring into the phone’s lenses made Thomas miss the sun set at that pivotal moment when the rounded edge of the sun is easiest to watch. He preferred starring into that.
“Here you are,” the father said walking up to them handing Kristen’s phone back to her.
“Thank you,” she said as she grabbed her phone, “Where are you from? Are you just visiting?” Kristen followed up with asking while holding her phone close to her stomach. Thomas turned around toward the sun breaching through the edge of the earth and watched it disappear as Kristen conversed with the father of the family.
“Oh, we made the drive up from Hawthorne in New Jersey, and uh we read about this place while looking for getaway destinations . . . so we wanted to check it out.” The man tilted his head in a way that made his response seem genuine and awkward at the same time.
“Oh wow,” Kristen’s voice shot up and Thomas smiled, “You know,” Kristen continued, “if you’re in the area you should check out Beacon.”
“Beacon?” the man said. His squint subsided due to the sun’s lack of exposure across the land.
“Yes, it’s a lovely town that is on the up-and-up with all of these little dive bars and restaurants . . . well,” Kristen looked over to his children playing with their dog, “Restaurants,” she said and smiled.
“Ah yes we were wondering where a good place is to eat around here – the expansive nature is a bit too overwhelming – we are just not used to it,” he said. Where might that be?”
“If you just take 87 south and cut east on 84, you can’t miss it,” she said.
“Oh that’s a little far, maybe on our way back we will check it out, thank you.” The father let out a short laugh that cruised into a small sigh. He looked back to his family and his wife waved him over.
“Honey, it’s getting dark we need to go,” she said. The father looked back at Thomas and Kristen and smiled.
“Beacon, thank you so much for that,” he said.
“Oh no problem,” Kristen said and Thomas looked over.
“And thank you for the photo,” Thomas said, but it seemed that the father didn’t even hear him because he didn’t turn around.
Thomas walked over to Kristen and she turned around to him. “These people that come to visit are annoying – it’s like they don’t even appreciate this area.”
“Well you grew up here; its home to you,” Thomas wrapped his arms around her and she rested her head on his chest. They both stared out into the darkened sky above the lake where the reflection of the sky turned to a silver grey.
(1940 in a lofty apartment. There seems to be a minor dispute between the couple, but distractions bewilder each other’s understanding.)
What is today my darling?
(Reading the newspaper attentively)
hmm umm. . . what was that dear?
(Playing excerpts from Beethoven’s symphony 5)
The date, I want to do something tonight.
……….It’s…… September 15, 1940. Why, what…..do…… you have……. in mind?
(Continues to play Beethoven the piano)
A live performance of an orchestra! I want to experience that euphoric sensation…..do you know what I mean? That sense of enlightenment that bridges the gap between perplexity and serenity. I’m missing that strikingly veracious chill that shakes the very foundation of your vertebrae when the initial ensemble of instruments seizes the silence. I’m in the mood for something composed by a German.
Hmmmm……. I can’t believe this finally made the paper! “The Germans are shaking London’s Foundation”. You didn’t tell me you read this already? They have orchestrated a constant cascade of falling explosives toward Great Britain’s Capital. My Beethoven, What is he expecting to accomplish in London? I mean, there is no stopping that mad man.
You know what I am playing! Well, I think he is a mad genius! All of his work evokes a subtle misinterpreted perception, one that contorts an array of feelings. It’s hard to explain exactly what he intends to accomplish…here, listen.
(Continues to play Beethoven’s melodies)
Can you feel the intensity of each note, how one dissolves into another propelling emotions from every dissonant chord?! You are right; it is like a constant cascade of explosive feelings! But I don’t think he ever played in London?
That sounds great dear but you are missing the point, he isn’t interested in only London. I think he is trying to scare the whole world with the brute force he implies to his tactics of “blitzkrieg” warfare. Hm, it sounds too complicated and aggressive.
(Chuckles) I don’t think I ever heard of a piece called blitzkrieg by him, but all of his work can be a bit complicated to understand at first. Are you in the mood for some Mozart? He’s less scary.
No thanks. I don’t think ANYONE has heard of it before; this is the first time something like this happened to more than two countries at one time. The call for innovation has worlds crumbling at the cost of absolute power.
You know, inventions such as the plane, the tank, hell even the Slinky. It is broadening the spectrum of all out chaos creating a world that is flustered in its own interests. I fear for the future of the human condition for it presents a disastrous road littered with selfish needs. That or I think I am going crazy!
(Stops playing piano, turns page of sheet music)
You’re not going crazy honey; the human condition is all about progress. The ability to create and expand our understanding of the world and the willingness to apply it is intellectual growth. What he does with his instrument is beyond the plain of fascination, it broadens its borders.
(Continues to play the piano)
(Sighs with anguished breath)
What I am trying to say is the man’s ambition is driving the country into a conflicted relationship with other countries. As hopeless as it may seem and as much as I don’t want to say it, I think we should go over there and assist to put an end to it.
(Stops playing piano)
Are you Okay?
Yes dear, fine.
(Continues to play the piano)
Hm umm. . . alright. To end what, the brilliance of German composition? I see his ambition as a virtue to the progression of his craft. His in-depth study of counterpoint alone furthered the development of his work, writing progressions that conflict with one another but still retaining a sense of harmony.
(Continues to read the paper)
There is no sense in anything that he is doing. It’s just a big mess of loud noises frequented with death showers and innocence lost. You don’t think that should end?
Maybe that’s what he is trying to convey through his work, the message of discord and interference of the human condition, the seizure of independence and the will to retain it.
I still see him as a mad man who craves absolute power, a dictator that drives for an unimaginable feat. There has to be some kind of resistance against this? I am tired of all this war.
(Stops playing Beethoven)
Hey, I don’t see us arguing, just expressing our opinions.
(Continues to play the piano)
Well if you want to talk about dictators, He did commemorate his Symphony No. 3 in E flat Major to Napoleon Bonaparte of France. It was to express the ideals of the French Revolution and how Napoleon captured these ideals through his methods of leadership, but when Napoleon declared himself Emperor in 1804, our “mad man” tore up his score with appalling disgrace. How’s that for tyrant resistance!
(Looks up from newspaper)
Napoleon Bonaparte was no better, an overzealous tyrant of the people who used their wishes for a reformed government to his advantage. Dictators should be stopped period.
(Continues to read)
In addition to that, I think our “mad man” in regards to this conversation has a lot of similarities with Napoleon. He used the public’s interest to gain support in the Reichstag then manipulated the country’s military into serving his demands regardless of the destruction he caused to the infrastructure of Germany. It’s called Totalitarianism and it is creating a chaotic world in Europe! God Damn it, we should be preventing death and encouraging further development of diplomacy!
(Stops playing Piano)
(Pause) Are you Okay Will?
(Looks up from paper toward Jane)
(Pause)No. I fear for this country and its potential involvement of foreign affairs. What’s happening in London may carry over to here, bringing other countries problems to our door step. I don’t want that to happen Jane.
(Walks over to William, wraps arms around shoulders)
And all this time I thought you were listening to me. Reading about today’s war won’t help you forget about the other.
(Taking Jane’s hands to his chest)
There were days Jane, days that would not end with a measure or cadence of hope. I felt. . . .I felt like. . . I should have done something! Instead it was just sitting around in our own vile waiting for the sirens to blare to warn us of incoming gas.
Awe Will, you made it back home in one piece and that’s what matters to me.
It has been twenty two years since then and I still have problems with breathing, a crushing sensation along with every breath to say the least. This war could lead to bigger problems than just what I’m dealing with. Cities are falling Jane. Great Britain’s capital is at its knees with despair!
(Steps back from William)
Yes, I am.
Well, I can see that soldier in you.
We don’t need soldiers. We need peace.
Then let’s go find sanctuary at an orchestra. I Promise it will ease your thoughts on this second Great War in Europe.
(Removes glasses and pinches bridge of nose)
I’m tired of reading any way.
Thomas heard footsteps coming from the second floor and he opened his eyes without getting up. He remained on the couch in a lateral position with his head facing the couch’s back cushion and studied its design. His mouth and throat were dry and his tongue retained the stale taste of the No. 27 from the night before. He tried to combatant the dryness by lapping the sides of his mouth with his tongue in order to dispel the taste. He did this while staring at the couch’s tapestry design and congruently attempting to follow the footsteps above him. He tried to gauge Kristen’s progress of coming downstairs based on their sound, and when they grew louder and more frequent, he anticipated her coming down the steps to the landing where it flooded right into the living room; right to where he was on the couch. Her footsteps eventually carried to the stairs where the creaks in the wood of the second floor transferred to the foundation of the entire staircase. Even though her Victorian wasn’t that small apartment they had shared back east, the creaks somehow sounded the same. He relished in this brief fantasy and as fast as his mind coaxed with this fain memory, it as quickly dissipated when he heard her pass him as she walked into the kitchen.
“Do you want some coffee?” Kristen said while she grabbed the glass pot out from under the Mr. Coffee drip. Thomas followed the noise of the rounded glass hitting the nozzle of the faucet. She turned it on and the water ran with a steady stream.
“Yeah,” he said turning from facing the couch to facing the blank screen of the television. He stared into his reflection and watched himself contort with his waking movements against the dull blackness and the silver outline on the screen from the reflecting sun streaming into the window. That silver streak sparked the same bleak feeling he retained from the night before.
”Cream . . . sugar,” Kristen said from the kitchen. Thomas heard her taking cups from the cabinet and just shook his head without her seeing him. “I should have guessed,” she followed up with saying in between the silence, “Some things just don’t change huh?”
“Yeah, black is fine,” he said.
Kristen entered the living room with the coffees and set his down on the table in front of him. She held hers close to herself as she sat down on the couch next to him. They both were now looking at the black television screen. Thomas watched her move her arm in the reflection toward the table on the end of the couch, then the screen blinked on with a stun noise. Thomas’s alertness engaged for a brief second, but soon relapsed as quickly as his discerning of the show that was on the tube; Law & Order.
“Do we have to do this,” Thomas said while getting up.
“Do what?” Kristen still had the remote in her hand as she raised that hand as a gesture to accommodate her question.
“I’m here for you – now – in response to your call last night,” Thomas passively threw his hand through his hair, “so here I am – now – asking you what I can do about it.” He stepped in front of the television and she moved accordingly to gain back her viewing the show that he was obstructing.
“I am over it,” she said with her eyes still on the screen. Thomas started to pace back a forth in the living room staring at the floor with the side of his index finger vigorously moving along the ridge line of his jaw. He then stopped pacing.
“Then why am I here?” He said. His eyes fell on the photo above the couch and it beguiled him like the photo from the car. “When does George get in?” He brought his eyes down upon Kristen.
“Sometime tonight,” she said only glancing at him then having her eyes settle back onto the television.
“Tonight,” Thomas said in an affirming voice and he dropped his chin down, then sighed. The morning sun pierced through the window and licked his cheek, which also made him squint one eye.
“Yeah, I told you that he’s at his parents for the weekend,” Kristen glanced at him another time.
“Yeah, I know,” he said.
“Would you please just sit down,” she padded the couch cushion, “your coffee is getting cold,” she said and sipped from her cup. He watched her raise the cup and as it met her lips, he focused on the image that was labeled on it; the mountains of New York.
He pushed the memory away, which was restricting him of sitting on the couch, but soon enough walked over to it. He plopped down and sat with that same type of restriction in his demeanor. He looked at her.
“Would you relax Thomas, I just want someone here,” she said and in anticipating him to pursue his questions, she raised a hand, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” he said lifting both hands up as if he forfeited from the conversation.
Kristen averted her eyes to Thomas’s jeans lying on the floor. She forcefully sighed and got up from the couch, placing her coffee on the table.
“I’ll run your jeans through the washer,” she said while grabbing them, then she walked into the kitchen and banked a right, descending a flight of stairs. Thomas just let his eyes rest on the television screen without actually paying attention to the Law & Order story developing before him. The characters were just actors regurgitating a script to him, and in the same way, he was regurgitating the motions of being there for Kristen.
His attention soon went away from the screen to following the sounds coming from the basement. Kristen was going through the cycle of the wash and when that washer door hit down hard as she closed it, that hollow smack echoed in his head. Her footsteps coming up the stairs were secondary to the echo jarring in his head and when she appeared back into the living room the echo intensified. He looked over to her as she sat back down next to him and only for a moment he was tempted to cross an arm over her shoulder, wrongfully anticipating her to cuddle up next to him, but as soon as she did sit down and shifted away from him toward the armrest, that anticipation dissipated. It was right then and there that the echo stopped and he blinked. She didn’t look at him, just at the screen and he did too.
They both watched Law & Order without glancing at each other again and when the show went to commercials streaming pointless advertisement, they did nothing but watch them and only Kristen reached for her phone periodically while Thomas got lost in the white noise that was his memory of New York.
The price to bowl is 25 dollars per person and will cover 3 games. This price will also include tricky tray tickets, door prizes, music and more. If bowling isn’t of an interest, but having a great time for a good cause is, then the cost to participate is 15 dollars. Participants are not limited to the number of tickets they wish to buy for the door and tricky tray prizes.
A tricky tray raffle is meant to appeal to the individual’s interest. For those who are unaware of how this raffle is conducted, there are baskets in front of each prize that allow the prospective winner to choose his or her particular prize. Although this system doesn’t guarantee a win for all who toss a ticket (or tickets) in the basket, it makes the winning prize selective and personal.
The occasion is for raising enough funds that go directly toward next year’s teacher grants. Supporting this cause will help further the innovative ideas that teachers have for their schools, such as pilot programs and technological upgrades. The purpose is to make these ideas a reality and to advance the approach toward learning. The proceeds will cover all 12 schools of Piscataway that range from kindergarten to high school.
There will be a total of 70 sticky tray prizes that include Giants tickets, a fit-bit, a candle basket, an apron with 300 dollars worth of gift cards attached, and a Samsung galaxy tablet. Each person is given an entry to the door prizes that have smaller gifts that include house wares and other tiny essentials.
All participants should bring a valid form of identification for this event is only for 21 years and older. Bowl reasonably since a cash bar will be available during the hours of the fundraiser, 6pm-9pm. Stelton Lanes is located at 1665 Stelton Road, Piscataway NJ.
Tickets are limited. To reserve yours, call the Community Education at (732)-572-4688.
Niemann’s repertoire includes six seasons as the head coach at Simpson College and most recently, the defensive coordinator at Northern Illinois for the last five years. Coach Ash’s relationship with Niemann goes back to the days when Ash played football for the Drake Bulldogs under his tutelage as the defensive coordinator. This bond between the two coaches will prosper onto the team, as per their philosophy to defensive tactics mesh well together.
While coaching the defense for the Northern Illinois football program, Niemann has lead them to winning the Mid-American Conference West each year with three league titles. In this past year alone, NIU has won six conference games and is currently ranked eighth in the nation in turnovers gained and fourth in interceptions.
Niemann is a graduate from Iowa State and played football for the Cyclones from 1979-82. He began his coaching career in 1985 at Western Washington, coaching linebackers and special teams units while pursuing his master’s degree of which he completed in 1988. During his master’s education, he accepted a graduate assistant position at the University of Washington, working with the Husky linebackers and defensive backs from 1986 to his graduation year. He continued to pursue coaching after this first exposure that led him to the coaching position at Drake in 1989. During his six-year career at Drake, he managed to have the Bulldog’s defense achieve the top 10 national ranking in scoring defense, passing efficiency defense and total defense.
His expertise will show promise for the Scarlet Knights for his efforts have sent a few of his focused players to NFL Drafts, such as senior safety for NIU, Jimmie Ward. He was selected by the San Francisco 49ers in 2014 for the first round of the NFL Draft. In the last four years, Niemann’s defensive coordinating has sent seven players forward in their football career to the NFL.
Let’s welcome Jay Niemann to the Rutgers family with the best prospects for the 2016 season.
This will be the second meeting of the two teams in their history. Last year, the Scarlet Knights claimed a victory at High Point Solutions Stadium with a score of 26-24.
At No. 16, the Michigan Wolverines have a record of 6-2 with 3-1 in the Big Ten Conference this season. Their loss against Michigan State on Oct. 17th had them striving to win against Minnesota last weekend, in which they did. However, it was a game that cost them their quarterback, Jake Rudock.
Early in the game against Minnesota, Rudock received a torso injury that had him leave the field. His progress toward a full recovery is yet to be complete. Coach Jim Harbaugh has said that this week’s practice will determine if he is able to perform this weekend. It is well understood that his recovery is the main priority.
Rutgers wide receiver, Janarion Grant has been receiving lesser amounts of attention on the field despite his record so far this season of 21 passes for 181 yards with 4 carries for 31 yards. In the past two games, he has only received 3 of those passes that amounted to a low of 11 yards. The lack of attention is warranted to the fact that Coach Kyle Flood does not want the ball directed to Grant as a target for unwanted interceptions. Forcing the ball into scenarios such as that puts the play in danger of a turn-over. With Leonte Carroo out of commission due to his right ankle injury, the Scarlet Knights look to other receivers (Carlton Agudosi and Andre Patton) including Grant to make the plays less obvious to the Wolverines defense.
With that being said, the Wolverines defense will be vital in the effort to combatant the Scarlet Knights offense. They have been top-ranked in the country as being No. 2 in total defense and No. 3 in rushing yards allowed, which is 65.8 yards.
The game will air on the Big Ten Network when kickoff is at 3:30 pm.
During the 100th birthday celebration, Jennifer Sorensen had her hand-drawn prints on display. She primarily works with black and white prints, but has been recently experimenting with color. Characters and celebrities such as Amy Poehler, Walter White, and Lucille Ball were for sale as well as specifically crafted cross-stitch designs.
Sorensen grew up above her grandmother’s fabric store, an excellent background for the type of art that she creates.
“Sewing is in my blood,” Sorensen said, describing her artistry roots. “I enjoy the contrast in using folk medium express modern themes.”
The cross-stitching projects entail embroidering a quote alongside traditional imagery. Sorensen takes these types of custom orders along with inquiry orders through her online shop as of late. You may peruse or purchase her art at Etsy.com. Just search for JenniferLightAndDark.
Sorensen’s affiliation with the Goldman House is deeply attuned with her graduate studies at Rutgers University. As a focused history student of modern Russia, Sorensen hones her expertise with her art at the local historic Goldman House. Since the house emulates aesthetic value that pertains to the Russian Bolshevik Movement during the early 1900’s, Sorensen shares more of a connection with the house. Her fondness of the house also holds true relating to the fact that the Goldman House, known locally as Uncle Sam’s Cabin, is an artistic masterpiece.
Upon finding the historical house through the motive of seeing a local friend perform there this past March, she was flabbergasted. “I was enchanted immediately.” Sorensen said.
Sorensen has since been selling her artwork at each festival, supporting the local history along with expressing her love for it.
The Afraid Brigade is a four piece band from Edison, NJ that implements Indie fantasy rock-and-roll into their musical style. Founded by singer and guitarist, Joe Ruff in 2011, they have since been writing music that primarily relate to haunted stories and ghastly influences.
Their single titled, “In the Dark” released in January of 2014. It is about the relationship of the supernatural with the ambiance of autumn, referring to the moon’s florescent glow and the tree’s decaying foliage. The fearful aspect of the unknown in this hit is expressed thoroughly well with the background chorus that emulates Ruff’s vocals. It isn’t just in the lyrics that convey the theme of their music, but with their instrumentation as well. With Ben Lander on bass, laying the foundation of the tunes, Tyler Boland on guitar and keys expanding the spooky tones with synthesizing effects, and Nick Kile producing a poppy yet indie beat on the drums, their sound in its entirety holds true to the vibes that Halloween is sure to deliver.
They released their first EP called The Helpless and the Hopeless on January 2013 and can be accessed on Band Camp. Their newest self-titled LP called In the Dark was released early last year, in January 2014. Their single, “In the Dark” is track number 2 off of the extensive 9 track LP. In the Dark was recorded in Ruff’s Basement, taking on the DIY ethic of today’s music industry. The final production of the album was completed at Timber Studios located in Bayonne NJ.
The Fundraiser at the Goldman House is on October 31st at 143 School St. It begins at 5 pm and will have other bands performing, including Lowlight, Cyphered Threads, and H.O.I.S.T.
The religious intolerance of the Jewish faith brought the Seleucid Empire to convert or destroy all Jewish temples. Hanukkah is the recognition of the success against this intolerance that brought the resurrection and rededication of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. The menorah (Hebrew for “lamp”) found in the temple was extinguished upon the rededication of the temple. The significance of the holiday celebrates the miracle that with the remaining oil found, lit the candles for eight days and nights when the oil was only meant to last one night. This allotted enough time for the making of more oil to sustain the flames.
A favorite celebratory act involves the culinary creation of delicious latkas. Latkas are prepared from the shavings of potatoes and onions along with baking powder, one egg and of course, oil. Grilling the prepared shavings saturated in this delectable concoction of kitchen necessities, especially the oil commemorates the miracle of the lasting oil as well as bringing the entire family together. Another festive food is a variation of a jelly donut called a sufganiyot.
The special Hanukkah Menorah has nine candles, with the extra in the middle known as the shamash (Hebrew for “attendant”). This middle candle is used to light each candle as the eight days progress. Three prayers are recited during the lighting of the candle which occurs right before the setting of the sun on the first night. Each consecutive night, only two prayers are recited. Gifts are exchanged each night as well as games such as the twirling of the dreidel. The dreidel has four Hebrew letters scribed on each side of the toy that together form the acronym “Nes Gadol Hayah Sham”, translated to “a great miracle happened there.” The spinning of the dreidel also incorporates a game that involves players to play for Hanukkah Gelt. Hanukkah Gelt is chocolate coins that are played for in respect to teach child the act of charity. Playing for real Gelt (Hebrew for “money”) is a reminder of the freedom won against the Seleucid Empire. Players either place everything they are playing with in the pot, place half of their pieces in the pot, put in another game piece in the pot, or void any action during their turn. Each side of the dreidel instructs the player to take any of these actions as it lands.
To everyone who celebrates this blessed holiday, enjoy the festivities; especially with the ones that you love. It is a time to recognize a miracle that saved a religion, as well as a time to recognize the people you spend it with.