Jerry’s Flat – Saturday
Evening, March 11, 1989
Jerry returned home from a ten-hour day at the
hardware store. Saturday was the busiest day of the week, and the beautiful and
warm spring day inspired the townspeople to flood in to buy topsoil, mulch,
garden seeds, plants, and tools. He needed a shower and he wanted to see
Christina. Maybe she’s available tonight,
he thought as he headed for the shower. Wish
I had planned ahead. This week has been a flurry. Maybe dinner and a movie. He
lathered with lavender soap and singsonged the verse that inspired him when he
first saw her dance— “A thousand eyes behold her, the dance flowing seamlessly,
orchestral backdrop, a rhythm on which to float . . . ” Water sprayed his face
as her fluid dance sailed on the waves of music—the timbre of a xylophone—Music in my head now? Music to the lyrics? He
turned off the water. The incessant clang of a clapper ringing a bell came from
outside the bathroom.
“Huh?” He pulled the shower curtain open and
stuck his head out. The timbre of a xylophone resonated much louder now. Drums
beat. He stepped out of the shower, water sliding to the floor, and opened the
bathroom door. Music spilled down the short hallway from the living room.
Someone singing—
A
restless eye across a weary room
A
glazed look and I was on the road to ruin . . .
Dripping wet, he quickly stepped down the hall
and then suddenly stopped.
Yannie and Freddie were sitting on the couch.
Yannie drew in a toke from the orange glow of a doobie.
“What the hell?” he exclaimed with arms spread
from his naked body.
“Haha. You going like that? Hurry up or we’ll be
late,” Freddie said.
The music’s lyrics—
A without
a thought of the consequence
I gave
in to my decadence . . .
Jerry shook his head in confusion.
One
slip and down the hole we fall
It
seems to take no time at all
“Oh crap! Is it tonight . . . Pink Floyd?” He
turned around and headed for his towel.
“Concert
starts in two hours and we have a forty minute drive to Arrowhead Stadium,”
Yannie called out.
Was it
love, or was it the idea of being in love?
Or was
it the hand of fate that seemed to fit like a glove?
The
moment slipped by and soon the seeds were sown . . .
He toweled off and then scanned his closet. Christina. Damn, I wanted to see her.
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.
v v v
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