Blood and Sweat

The fog rolled in blurring the lines of the brick buildings and cobblestone streets. Even with the full moon hanging so handsomely in the night sky, it was hard for her to see ahead. She had spent the past twelve hours bandaging wounds and delicately wiping dirty tear-stained faces. Everything ached inside and out. With each step she took her dress and undergarments came together creating a sound that became a rhythm helping her forward. She would have been happy to find a wagon filled with bales of hay if only to climb in and sleep. That was a fantasy. She had to get home. She had one there that needed her, too.

Her shoulders felt heavy. Her feet hurt. She wanted to wear boots so badly. Men's boots. They looked so comfortable. Her shoes pinched her toes. They were always the first things she took off when she got home.

She knew she smelled of blood and sweat, not all of it hers. The fog was making everything damp. Loose strands of her hair were sticking to the back of her neck. She kept having to wipe the moisture from her face. Was that from the fog or was she crying?

She was crying. She sucked in a big gulp of air and when she let it out she heard herself moan. Covering her mouth with her hand didn't stop the sound. It started from a place deep within her and wouldn't be muted. She started to run. Her legs protested but she had to get home. She lifted her skirts so that she could move easier. Stupid clothes! Why couldn't she wear pants as men did?

It became hard to focus. The fog and her tears made her vision swim. Letting go of the dress with one hand, she wiped her eyes again. She felt nauseous and it was hard to breathe. Turning the corner, she almost slipped and fell. Her muscles burned but there was home. The only house with a light in the window. Home.

She forced her legs to move. Reaching into the folds of her garments, she pulled out the key and opened the front door. Closing it behind her, she sank to the floor. Her hair had fallen out of the bun she had carefully pinned atop her head yesterday. As her breathing steadied, so did she.

She looked across the room. There was the wash bowl and pitcher full of fresh clean water he always left for her before he went to bed. Reaching for her shoes, she untied them, pulled them off, and set them at their place next to her husband's boots.

Looking again across the room, she got up and started undressing herself remembering to dim the light first. Leaving a trail of discarded clothes behind her, she picked up the pitcher and poured the water into the wash bowl. Grabbing the clean rag sitting nearby, she cleaned off the remnants of the past hours knowing that her mind would never be as clean as her skin.

Moving the curtain that separated the bedroom from the rest of the house, she crawled into bed next to her husband. As always, he turned over, gently taking her in his arms he tucked her head under his chin. His smell, his arms, and his love surrounded her. It replaced her pain and misery with lightness and within seconds she fell into a deep sleep.

You say bologna, I say....bologna.

It was last week when I walked into the grocery store. Have you noticed a lot of my stories involve grocery stores?! Anyway, I walked through the produce section stopping only to see what was on sale. I had a short list and didn't want to make a day trip out of it.

I normally don't buy deli meats because they are so expensive but this time I slowed down to look at the glass deli case display. I don't know if you have ever eaten turkey pastrami but it's a nice change of pace and a half pound is doable. Much less fat than regular but basically the same great taste. I slowed my cart to a stop and looked around for the deli person. From my right down at the bakery a woman yelled to me that she would be with me in a minute. I yelled back, "Okay," hopefully relating with my tone that I wasn't in a hurry. I could wait.

I perused the rest of my deli options and noticed the German bologna. Hm. It wasn't expensive, either.

All of a sudden a man was on the other side of the counter. He scared me for a second because I was expecting the woman to show up from my right. He smiled and I noticed he was missing a couple of his teeth. "What can I get you, Ma'am?" There was something about him that was attractive because his aura, being, self, soul was kind. Have you ever met someone and immediately knew they were a nice person? "Do you know what you want?"

I smiled back. "Yes. A half pound of the turkey pastrami sliced thin, please."

"A half pound?"

"Yes. A half pound."

He walked around looking for the package of meat. I've always wondered what the other side of the deli case looked like. The counter person never pulls the package you see through the glass. Are meats thrown haphazardly? Are they in the same order as we view? He was looking around for what seemed like an unusually long time. I thought this guy was going to have to walk down the street to find the turkey pastrami. "A half a pound, right?"

"Yes. That's right." Me not being very nice myself, I thought, "Ask me again."

Once he found the loaf, he walked over to the slicer, ran the hunk of meat through once, and presented to me the example. Upon handing me the slice on the deli paper I told him, "That's good. Thanks."

Smiling, he walked back to the slicer. I was left holding the slice so I ate it. I wasn't all that hungry but I didn't want to insult him. Now I had the piece of paper. I balled it up as I looked around for a garbage receptacle. No such luck so I stuffed it in my jean's pocket and hoped I would remember to throw it out at home.

Walking over, he handed me the pastrami. "Anything else today?"

"Thank you. Yes. A half pound of the Wunderbar® German Bologna, please."

"Excellent choice! It is the best German bologna around."

I felt like he just approved my wine choice! I didn't know what to say. "Oh! Great!" What I was  thinking was that I picked it because it was the least expensive available and I hoped it didn't have ingredients, had I known what they were, that I would really not want to eat.

Following his routine, he came back to the counter and handed me not one but two slices of bologna on a piece of paper. Seeing this deli anomaly, I looked up at him. Did he know he did this? He read my face, nodded and smiled. "Thank you," I said. 

All of this was starting to feel different. He turned back to the slicer. Now I had to eat two slices of bologna and I was definitely not hungry. He was being so kind I couldn't insult him so I took one of the slices and started eating it slowly. I really wished there was a trash receptacle of some kind  nearby but I still didn't spy one.

He was back at the counter sooner than expected. Handing over the package of bologna to me, we smiled at each other and I thanked him. He said, "You come in anytime. I will be here and feed you."

So! There was that.

Did I look like I needed that kind of charity? 

I'm sure all of you people that are good with quick snappy replies could think of any number of things to say in response. I, on the other hand, am not good at that. My mother is the Queen of funny retorts. Too bad I didn't inherit that talent from her like my sister, Eve, did.

I think I just nodded and said, "Thank you." I can't remember! 

I walked away from the deli counter still holding once slice of bologna in my hand. Shit. Now I have to walk around grocery shopping while holding it or effing eat it.....which I did.

Can you give me more blasé?

"I cannot be Zen now and rise above!" Susan screamed it at the top of her lungs. "I am so sick of EVERYTHING!" More screaming.

"I don't want to talk about it so stop." Randall was not going to give in. He turned and started walking away.

"I am sick of you not wanting to talk about it. I am sick of it being a protected topic with you. As a matter of fact, I am sick of YOU!" Susan's fists clenched. The carotid arteries on the sides of her neck bulged.

Still walking away, Randall replied, "Fine. But I know you. You'll change your mind."

Susan watched his back as he continued to leave. "AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" She screamed as she raced towards him and tackled him. They both fell to the ground.

"What the fuck!? Susan! Stop!"

"No. I'm not going to stop." She shoved his face into the sandy beach. "You will listen to me, goddammit!"

Spitting out sand and wiping his mouth on his sleeve, Randall got up on all fours. "Jesus, Susan!"

Still perched on his back, Susan kicked him in the ribs. "Woo Hoo! Ride m' Cowboy!"

Randall cursed again. "Son of a bitch!" Susan started to slide off his back as he attempted to sit up so she grabbed his hair and held on tightly.

The director yelled, "Cut!"

Anna let go of Billy's head and slid to the ground. Billy sat back on his haunches and rubbed his head.

"Sorry, Bill."

"No problem. It's in the script." He gave her a wane smile.

"That was fantastic but let's try it one more time. I want to see as much anger as you can muster, Anna, and Billy - see if you can give me more blasé."

The actors looked at each other.

"Anna, think of a time when you felt completely powerless. Maybe when you were a child. And you felt wronged and couldn't do anything about it," the Director suggested. Anna nodded.

"Bill, try to find a place inside where you know no empathy. Almost like a sociopath. No conscience. No sense of wrong. You don't care what Anna, or Susan, says, you aren't wrong."

"OK," Bill replied.

"Great! Places everyone. We're going to do this again."