Jerry’s Flat – Friday
Night, March 10, 1989
The whirr of the coffee grinder sounded like it
would take off if not held down and loudly expressed that the beans were
pulverized into a fine powder. Several empty packages of Raman noodles were
strewn across the counter. Balls of wadded up paper scattered the living area. He
held the steno notebook in his hand as if staring at it might produce some
sound thought.
“This is just not getting anywhere,” Jerry
stammered. “I can’t get past the block! The vision for plans after graduation .
. . Gone! I have no passion for the goal! Four years I pushed myself to
complete this business degree, striving to be top in my class, all for the
purpose of . . . what? He ticked off
in staccato fashion, “Working my butt off, doing what I’ll find to be a dull
routine of shuffling paper, shuffling money to get rich quick, buying all the
toys that any man would want?”
He walked through the living area holding his
fifth cup of coffee, kicked a paper ball and spilled the brown liquid across
the light beige carpet. “Crap! I was on such a high with Christina and now this!
He gritted his teeth and through stern eyes looked out the window onto
the street below. A street light cast a honey-amber glow on a young couple
strolling hand-in-hand without a care—but for each other. A guy carrying books
and a grocery bag absently kicked a stone to the street gutter. Jerry paused to
reflect on his dreams that seemed so far away and dim.
“A big house in the mountains of a Colorado ski
resort . . . a horse to trail ride the Wyoming wilderness . . . a
four-wheel-drive truck to race the Baja desert . . . a Harley to cruise
cross-country highways . . . a kayak to battle Grand Canyon whitewater . . . a
snowmobile to sled through Michigan pines . . . a boat to sail and watch the
sunset across the Gulf.”
Drawn into his inner world, he stared into
nothing at the dark window. His dreams shrouded by fog, all that he had
purposed to do now seemed beyond reach. Attaining these dreams would take drive
and determination. He had that, it was a natural part of him and further inbred
by the work ethic and stamina he had seen in his dad. His dad’s favorite saying—My great-great-great-granddad started this
place with a mule and a single-blade plow. Drive and determination made it
prosper. On the immigrant steamer bound for New York, his German ancestor memorized
the English words that he would need to conduct business when he arrived. Jerry
was brought up as a youth with his dad’s philosophy—The harder you strive for something, the closer you get to it, until
one day, it’s yours.
Jerry slammed his notebook on the kitchen
counter.
“The harder I try to write, the harder it gets!”
he yelled with red flushed cheeks of exasperation.
He emptied the coffee grinder into the filter,
poured water into the reservoir, and clicked the coffee maker on. Hands on his
hips, he walked into the small living area off the kitchen, a true bachelor pad
with clothes strewn wherever he took them off, books lying haphazardly from the
last time they were read, newspapers and magazines scattered across the floor.
“Why can’t I get this?” he cried out to the
ceiling. “Why can’t I write down the simple words of what I want to do with my
life?” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Slowly, he regained his composure
and softly said, “I can compose a poem . . . ”
With an air of mocking himself, frustrated that
he could be creative at times but had no idea what his future held for him, he
began the first stanza, “A thousand eyes behold her, the dance flowing
seamlessly, orchestral backdrop, a rhythm on which to float . . . ” Jerry’s
mood shifted as the words drew him to see Christina dancing in his mind . . .
v v v
Copyright 2017 © Jeff Cambridge
Excerpt from
PURSUIT, a novel by Jeff Cambridge, a writer of transformational fiction with
characters that tell life-changing stories.
This is a
pre-published scene.
To read the scenes
sequentially, begin with
“PURSUIT: A
Novel – Prologue”
You will find
the previous episodes in the monthly archives. Click on them and enjoy.
Your comments
are welcomed and appreciated. Simply check one of the reaction boxes below,
write a comment, or email me at bycambridge@gmail.com.
This novel is a
work of fiction. Any references to real events, businesses, organizations, and
locales are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and
authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.
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