Relationships: whether close or remote, relationships stem from a compatible source of energy. Without concise communication, even the best ones generate friction and grind to a halt...again and again and again.
Some of us are destined to go down in flames. It's not a purposeful act; rather, it comes with the territory of being a natural phenomenon, like lightening. Sparks kindle easily in the dry season of a man's heart.
Take Mimi Lewis, for example. She is a most dangerous fire-starter.
Mimi meets the man who will soon be her husband the day after she resigns from a large advertising agency with no plan for future employment. Carefree, but not irresponsible, Mimi is the cat who, regardless of the height from which she is thrown, always lands on her feet. Nine years of the corporate environment have served her well. She has money in the bank, a closet full of designer clothes, and a reputation, as in 'Stop smiling so much. It intimidates your co-workers.' The gig is up after her boss expressed that strange sentiment in yesterday's evaluation. Mimi decides to always work for people who appreciate a sincere smile.
It's early spring. The sun is pale and thin, but the air is warm. Mimi is comfortably dressed in paddock boots, worn breeches and a dark green jacket, her long brown hair pulled back from a naturally attractive, minimally made up face. She's just spent the first morning of unemployment mudding around in wet pastures, playing with a herd of easy mares and skipping, long-legged foals. To Mimi, the scent of all things horse is divine. Earthy, sensuous. No need to rush home for a shower before meeting a friend for lunch. Mimi believes what she likes, everyone likes. She overflows with confidence, regardless of how often she's been judged for her lack of decorum. Mimi is sophisticated in a wacky sort of way; organically chi-chi, athletically sexy.
The wine flows freely on the first warm patio day at Steeles, a tiny bistro known for large pours. Mimi quaffs the house chardonnay, smokes Camels and listens to Jessie, a new acquaintance who talks without breathing, moving from topic to topic without a needle and thread. Mimi doesn't care. She's on leave from high anxiety, peacefully out of her mind. She leans back in her chair, turns her face toward the skinny rays of sun, and closes her eyes.
"Wake up Mimi, damn it!" Jessie's animated. "Check him out," she says, jerking her head north toward the front door. "There's the man you need to meet, right there."
Mimi pushes a loose strand of hair from her face, yawns, and sits up in her chair. "Where?" She follows Jessie's glance and smiles. "Oh, yeah. Look at those calves. He's got legs. You know him?"
"I've known him for years," says Jessie, "but we've only spoken a few times. Sam Killian. He owns this restaurant. He dated a friend of mine briefly, but they broke up a few months ago. I haven't seen him for awhile; wonder where he's been...do you want to meet him? Let's call him over."
Sam leans against the wall, smokes a cigar, and watches the smoke trail make dust in the sun. Mimi thinks his rugged face looks like a craggy mountain. "Great hair," she says. "I could build a nest in there. Is he smart?" Mimi sits a little straighter in her chair.
"Go to the bathroom and check your teeth," says Jessie. "I see spinach. When you get back, he'll be at our table."
"No way," says Mimi, repulsed and drawn by the very idea of a setup.
"Why not, Mimi? Look, you'll meet a new friend and we'll probably get free wine."
Mimi studies Sam behind her Dollar Store sunglasses. "Oh, as if that makes good sense. You're inviting him over so I can impress him with my barn smell and pick his pockets?" Mimi is already out of her seat and on her way to the bathroom. "Work your spell, Witch."
Mimi isn't looking for a husband when she meets Sam, but they go up each others noses and cloud the part of the brain responsible for thinking. Sam reaches across the table and plucks a piece of yellow straw from Mimi's hair. He smells like butterscotch and tobacco with a hint of honest man sweat. Mimi has a vision of burying her head in his armpit and staying there for a few hours.
Honest man sweat is hard to find. Mimi's last husband covered his own nectar with layers of antiperspirant, heavy with ingredients that hurt her feelings. If a man doesn't like his natural smell, Mimi discovered, how can a woman fall in love with him?
Sam lifts the straw to his nose. "Be right back," he said. Two minutes later he places a glass of Duckhorn Sauvignon Blanc on the table in front of her. "You smell like this wine - sunshine, straw, new spring grass." Had he smelled her boots, his choice would have been red.
Two months later they are married, and Mimi becomes a restaurateur.
...
Mastodon bones are buried under ice so hard that permafrost would be a welcome respite. Little feisty flowers bloom in permafrost, but an archaeologist can't dig deep enough to find loose, fertile ground in a cold-hearted woman.
Case in point: Dr. Jacob Reston and Nurse Julie Masencup bond through a more conventional and time-tested location - the emergency department of Eastern General Hospital, also known as the War Room. Death, drug overdoses, bullet wounds, car wrecks, abused children; the sadness of it all is overwhelming regardless of professional training. Doom, gloom and tears. Julie and Jake work side by side in Hell. They build a safety net for themselves, first through gallows humor, then through drinks after a rough day, then through sex. Anywhere. Everywhere.
But Jake is engaged to Anne, a pharmacist who works at a nearby lab, and Anne has a gut feeling. She knows before she's tipped off that Jake has his eye on another prize. Julie is a petite bottle-blond with size C add-ons and perfect capped white teeth. She's her own toothpaste commercial. Anne hears the gossip; her fiance displays bad form in a small incestuous pit, a snake pit filled with viperous women who remember Jake's previous girl friend - the hospital chaplain's daughter - with fondness. Now he's leapfrogging from Anne's back to Julie's. Poor Anne. She's on her way to the dump.
From the first time Julie spies Jake, she knows. She whispers to a co-worker, "See that doctor over there, the one with his hands inside that man's chest? I'm going to marry him." Julie's pronouncement causes her confidante to snort. "Dr. Reston? Jake? Get in line, Julie. We all want to marry him. But, he's engaged."
"Not for long," Julie states.
Anne smells Julie all over Jake. Smells her sweat, her juice. Anne sniffs Jake's neck when he comes home late, but she never accuses. Three weeks into the tryst, Anne swallows a dozen Valium, drinks four vodka shots, and tries to run Julie and Jake down in the hospital parking lot. While failing in that attempt, she successfully manages to total her car before passing out at the wheel, but only after running into a lovely weeping willow tree, saving her the embarrassment of an attempted manslaughter trial. The day after her stomach is pumped, Anne - without giving notice to her employer or her fiance - disappears forever, leaving not a wrinkle in Jake's hide. Julie wins. Jake? Well, America's full of Jakes.
Jake's hands are famous for seamlessly ripping the heart out of his former fiance and implanting it straight into Julie's size C chest. They are married one year later.
...
There are many good, bad, and dangerous men before Sam. Look through Mimi's photo albums and you'll see pictures of them all. Mimi knows heartbreak up close, recognizes fragments of hearts she's broken intermingled with jagged slivers of her own. Mimi keeps the shards in a box with hope of returning them to their rightful owners some day, but she buries the box the night after she meets Sam. Goodbye, Tom, Dick and Harry. Rest in pieces.
Mimi and Sam have good intentions, and love the thought of patiently warming to each other. But immaturity, or freewill, or karma - judge if you must - barges in without knocking during their brief courtship.
"Look, Mimi," Sam says after their third date. "I'm falling in love with you."
"Sam, let's test-drive this car," Mimi says. Her eyes twinkle, the glow emanating from a white-hot coal. "What say we keep the physical on hold and explore the intellectual? We've only known each other a few days. Something's happening here, but let's get it right this time. You in?"
Sam takes a shallow breath and says, "Your mama would appreciate that." Mimi laughs and says, "You tell her I'm a good girl when you meet her." But Sam and Mimi fill that car with gas the very next night and drive the wheels off. By seven a.m., her mama knows that Mimi's impetuous nature is intact, unfazed by time, trials, and a multitude of tribulations. Under a hazy summer sky, on a muggy August morning smack in the middle of a lush pasture and witnessed by impatient mares and awkward weanlings, Mimi walks through horse manure dotted with rose petals toward her perceived final destination, toward an electrical connection without an off switch.
"Hey June," says Sam. "Hey Johnny," says Mimi. "We got married in a fever, hotter'n a pepper sprout..."
Jake and Julie celebrate their tenth anniversary on the same hot August day by strategically placing Hallmark cards in each others offices - a mutual guarantee of minimum contact. Their marriage is in the freezer.
Some of us are destined to go down in flames. It's not a purposeful act; rather, it comes with the territory of being a natural phenomenon, like lightening. Sparks kindle easily in the dry season of a man's heart.
Take Mimi Lewis, for example. She is a most dangerous fire-starter.
Mimi meets the man who will soon be her husband the day after she resigns from a large advertising agency with no plan for future employment. Carefree, but not irresponsible, Mimi is the cat who, regardless of the height from which she is thrown, always lands on her feet. Nine years of the corporate environment have served her well. She has money in the bank, a closet full of designer clothes, and a reputation, as in 'Stop smiling so much. It intimidates your co-workers.' The gig is up after her boss expressed that strange sentiment in yesterday's evaluation. Mimi decides to always work for people who appreciate a sincere smile.
It's early spring. The sun is pale and thin, but the air is warm. Mimi is comfortably dressed in paddock boots, worn breeches and a dark green jacket, her long brown hair pulled back from a naturally attractive, minimally made up face. She's just spent the first morning of unemployment mudding around in wet pastures, playing with a herd of easy mares and skipping, long-legged foals. To Mimi, the scent of all things horse is divine. Earthy, sensuous. No need to rush home for a shower before meeting a friend for lunch. Mimi believes what she likes, everyone likes. She overflows with confidence, regardless of how often she's been judged for her lack of decorum. Mimi is sophisticated in a wacky sort of way; organically chi-chi, athletically sexy.
The wine flows freely on the first warm patio day at Steeles, a tiny bistro known for large pours. Mimi quaffs the house chardonnay, smokes Camels and listens to Jessie, a new acquaintance who talks without breathing, moving from topic to topic without a needle and thread. Mimi doesn't care. She's on leave from high anxiety, peacefully out of her mind. She leans back in her chair, turns her face toward the skinny rays of sun, and closes her eyes.
"Wake up Mimi, damn it!" Jessie's animated. "Check him out," she says, jerking her head north toward the front door. "There's the man you need to meet, right there."
Mimi pushes a loose strand of hair from her face, yawns, and sits up in her chair. "Where?" She follows Jessie's glance and smiles. "Oh, yeah. Look at those calves. He's got legs. You know him?"
"I've known him for years," says Jessie, "but we've only spoken a few times. Sam Killian. He owns this restaurant. He dated a friend of mine briefly, but they broke up a few months ago. I haven't seen him for awhile; wonder where he's been...do you want to meet him? Let's call him over."
Sam leans against the wall, smokes a cigar, and watches the smoke trail make dust in the sun. Mimi thinks his rugged face looks like a craggy mountain. "Great hair," she says. "I could build a nest in there. Is he smart?" Mimi sits a little straighter in her chair.
"Go to the bathroom and check your teeth," says Jessie. "I see spinach. When you get back, he'll be at our table."
"No way," says Mimi, repulsed and drawn by the very idea of a setup.
"Why not, Mimi? Look, you'll meet a new friend and we'll probably get free wine."
Mimi studies Sam behind her Dollar Store sunglasses. "Oh, as if that makes good sense. You're inviting him over so I can impress him with my barn smell and pick his pockets?" Mimi is already out of her seat and on her way to the bathroom. "Work your spell, Witch."
Mimi isn't looking for a husband when she meets Sam, but they go up each others noses and cloud the part of the brain responsible for thinking. Sam reaches across the table and plucks a piece of yellow straw from Mimi's hair. He smells like butterscotch and tobacco with a hint of honest man sweat. Mimi has a vision of burying her head in his armpit and staying there for a few hours.
Honest man sweat is hard to find. Mimi's last husband covered his own nectar with layers of antiperspirant, heavy with ingredients that hurt her feelings. If a man doesn't like his natural smell, Mimi discovered, how can a woman fall in love with him?
Sam lifts the straw to his nose. "Be right back," he said. Two minutes later he places a glass of Duckhorn Sauvignon Blanc on the table in front of her. "You smell like this wine - sunshine, straw, new spring grass." Had he smelled her boots, his choice would have been red.
Two months later they are married, and Mimi becomes a restaurateur.
...
Mastodon bones are buried under ice so hard that permafrost would be a welcome respite. Little feisty flowers bloom in permafrost, but an archaeologist can't dig deep enough to find loose, fertile ground in a cold-hearted woman.
Case in point: Dr. Jacob Reston and Nurse Julie Masencup bond through a more conventional and time-tested location - the emergency department of Eastern General Hospital, also known as the War Room. Death, drug overdoses, bullet wounds, car wrecks, abused children; the sadness of it all is overwhelming regardless of professional training. Doom, gloom and tears. Julie and Jake work side by side in Hell. They build a safety net for themselves, first through gallows humor, then through drinks after a rough day, then through sex. Anywhere. Everywhere.
But Jake is engaged to Anne, a pharmacist who works at a nearby lab, and Anne has a gut feeling. She knows before she's tipped off that Jake has his eye on another prize. Julie is a petite bottle-blond with size C add-ons and perfect capped white teeth. She's her own toothpaste commercial. Anne hears the gossip; her fiance displays bad form in a small incestuous pit, a snake pit filled with viperous women who remember Jake's previous girl friend - the hospital chaplain's daughter - with fondness. Now he's leapfrogging from Anne's back to Julie's. Poor Anne. She's on her way to the dump.
From the first time Julie spies Jake, she knows. She whispers to a co-worker, "See that doctor over there, the one with his hands inside that man's chest? I'm going to marry him." Julie's pronouncement causes her confidante to snort. "Dr. Reston? Jake? Get in line, Julie. We all want to marry him. But, he's engaged."
"Not for long," Julie states.
Anne smells Julie all over Jake. Smells her sweat, her juice. Anne sniffs Jake's neck when he comes home late, but she never accuses. Three weeks into the tryst, Anne swallows a dozen Valium, drinks four vodka shots, and tries to run Julie and Jake down in the hospital parking lot. While failing in that attempt, she successfully manages to total her car before passing out at the wheel, but only after running into a lovely weeping willow tree, saving her the embarrassment of an attempted manslaughter trial. The day after her stomach is pumped, Anne - without giving notice to her employer or her fiance - disappears forever, leaving not a wrinkle in Jake's hide. Julie wins. Jake? Well, America's full of Jakes.
Jake's hands are famous for seamlessly ripping the heart out of his former fiance and implanting it straight into Julie's size C chest. They are married one year later.
...
There are many good, bad, and dangerous men before Sam. Look through Mimi's photo albums and you'll see pictures of them all. Mimi knows heartbreak up close, recognizes fragments of hearts she's broken intermingled with jagged slivers of her own. Mimi keeps the shards in a box with hope of returning them to their rightful owners some day, but she buries the box the night after she meets Sam. Goodbye, Tom, Dick and Harry. Rest in pieces.
Mimi and Sam have good intentions, and love the thought of patiently warming to each other. But immaturity, or freewill, or karma - judge if you must - barges in without knocking during their brief courtship.
"Look, Mimi," Sam says after their third date. "I'm falling in love with you."
"Sam, let's test-drive this car," Mimi says. Her eyes twinkle, the glow emanating from a white-hot coal. "What say we keep the physical on hold and explore the intellectual? We've only known each other a few days. Something's happening here, but let's get it right this time. You in?"
Sam takes a shallow breath and says, "Your mama would appreciate that." Mimi laughs and says, "You tell her I'm a good girl when you meet her." But Sam and Mimi fill that car with gas the very next night and drive the wheels off. By seven a.m., her mama knows that Mimi's impetuous nature is intact, unfazed by time, trials, and a multitude of tribulations. Under a hazy summer sky, on a muggy August morning smack in the middle of a lush pasture and witnessed by impatient mares and awkward weanlings, Mimi walks through horse manure dotted with rose petals toward her perceived final destination, toward an electrical connection without an off switch.
"Hey June," says Sam. "Hey Johnny," says Mimi. "We got married in a fever, hotter'n a pepper sprout..."
Jake and Julie celebrate their tenth anniversary on the same hot August day by strategically placing Hallmark cards in each others offices - a mutual guarantee of minimum contact. Their marriage is in the freezer.
2 comments:
waitn for #4
"Mimi isn't looking for a husband when she meets Sam, but they go up each others noses and cloud the part of the brain responsible for thinking."
Love that.
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