Handlebars in ASL...A+

Bingo:

what's going on in there?

The arguing escalated to a deafening silence.

Sensing that he had neither a care nor a plan for how to deal with the impending photographer, she silently decided they would proceed with taking the portrait. He silently agreed.

The fragment of hope that, maybe he would be better soon, kept her awake at night. That and the gaping emptiness of 2,000 count Egyptian cotton lying next to her. Their guest room hadn't housed visitors in 3 months and their bed no longer housed him.

The fragment of hope that, maybe she would leave kept him awake at night. He fantasized about her being the one to pull the trigger. Too fearful to leave and too apathetic to try, he progressed on, lifeless and hypnotically vacant. His erratic anger that once demanded her submission had evolved into an eerie calm. She restlessly awaited the next quake, not knowing when or if it would come.

The photographer arrived 5 minutes early.

And so they sat, unattached, uninterested, and unlovingly apart from one another as the photographer whistled politely to himself in between sputtering rants of nervous babble.

"Alrighty there, now let's have one where you sort of tilt your knees over to the le--ahhh, yes. Ok now can you come down just one step there, mam, alri--ok, no ok then just sit right there, goooood, yes, just perfect, perfect. There we go and a smile from you sir would be--alri-ok then, that's fine, ok now, alrighty and a 1, 2..."

As they sent the photographer away, she choked up so hard she had to pretend to sneeze and ran to the bathroom "for a tissue."

The first time he noticed she hadn't come out of the bathroom was 6 hours later when he was mowing the yard. His lawnmower chewed up a piece of broken glass that had fallen from the bathroom window when she pried it open. She'd gotten out.

I rode the bus to work!

At approximately 11:02 last night I said, "Rita (I call myself Rita...no I don't. Just kidding) you've got to just get on the bus and do it. No more 'I wanna ride the bus someday,' tomorrow is your day. Look up the schedule and ride."

So this morning at 7:30 as I was listing reasons NOT to follow through, a small bird flew through my window and chirped, "follow your dreams, get on the bus." So I did. And NOW, instead of a list of reasons NOT to ride, I formulated a list of reasons why I WANT to ride the bus all the time:

1. the walks from my house to the bus and from the last stop to my office were brisk; just what I need in the morning. That and a couple shots of Cuervo. Ohhhh, Sarah!
2. Riding the bus reminded me of when I lived in New York. All these memories flooded back of being completely reliant on public transit. I remembered scurrying down the street every morning to 86th and Lexington, hopping on the 6 and flying to 51st street. I can still smell the lingering cigarette smoke from the tiny Hispanic girl that inevitably made her way in front of me at least 3 times a week on the walk across Park and Madison over to 30 Rockefeller Plaza...and yet, despite the fondness of those sights, sounds and cancer inducing smells, I have no doubt or reservation that Austin > New York. By far.
   
3. I will save at least 8 million/year in gasoline if I ride the bus a couple times a week.
4. another reason I want to ride the bus is people watching...and randomly talking to (at) the people I've been staring at. Today I was nervous about missing my stop so I kept quiet and focused, but I have grandiose visions of becoming best friends with my fellow riders and eventually being able to introduce them to the greatest news of all time: Jesus loves them.
   
5. I want to ride the bus so I can bring donuts or breakfast tacos for people. I was on the bus with the same people for 20 minutes. No additions, no subtractions. Just me, Louie, Marie, Candice, Jared, Cathy, wait I'm making all these names up. But really, I think it would be SO fun to bring breakfast for my busmates! (DANGIT, my coworker just told me that you can't have food or drink...hmm...maybe if I pass out tacos discretely he won't notice. What can he do, throw me off?! uhh, probably)
   
6. The less I get behind the wheel of a vehicle, the better.
7. It will force me to get up when my alarm goes off because if I miss the bus, I have to wait 30 minutes for another one and well, I can't do that.
8. It's FREEING not having to weave in and out of traffic and flip people off while trying not to hit pregnant ladies as they cross the street--I just got to sit back and ride! PLUS, the reason I got to SIT is because two fine gentlemen gave up their seats so that me and another girl could sit down. I love that! Thank you, Ernie and Leon! Or whatever your names were!
   
9. Riding the bus is a good reminder that it's not about me. I don't have any control how fast he drives, and I don't have any control over whether or not the guy next to me bathes and/or deodorizes himself. That being said, riding the bus was a great test of my new deodorant. I smell like flowers and it was in the upper 80's this morning so I think it passed the test.
   
10. Finally, the last reason I want to ride the bus is: IT'S FREE BECAUSE I'M A "STUDENT" (I'm going to school at night to get a degree in american sign language interpreting)
    

Another Short Story

Ronnie Filmore was blind. We used to test him to make sure he wasn't lying and sure enough, every time, we'd end up with his candy or his baseball and he'd just be sitting there glossy-eyed and happy, not knowing that he'd been burgled. Now the reason we kept thinking he might be a liar is because his twin brother was.

The lying brother, his name was Albert, once told our principal that Darcy Clements, the most hated do-gooder in the 2nd grade, exposed herself to him on the playground. He claimed that he and his brother were sitting near the oak tree coming up with words that rhymed with "match" when Darcy suddenly appeared and lifted her dress up plum over her head. With the only witness being his blind brother, it was Albert's word against Darcy's.

Ronnie knew better than to cross his brother--he'd learned enough times in their 7 years of life that bloody noses hurt and it's better to keep quiet even if it meant silently contributing to a lie. But he also knew better than to think for a second that Darcy Clements would flash anything but the bathtub curtain. Still, aiding and abetting Albert's lies had become his full-time job.

When Principal Mulaney looked Ronnie in the wandering eye and asked, "Did you, uh, hear anything, son, that would lead you to believe that Darcy Clements was acting inappropriately with her, uh, clothing, in regards to your brother that day on the playground?," Ronnie softly nodded his head yes. When prompted for an explanation, he said in a mumbled whisper, "She told Albert that she had a couple of presents for him and then she...mmpullledupher mmher dress."

Albert tried not to smile as his brother forced out lies like a seasoned mobster. Darcy would be expelled--maybe even home schooled or sent to the special school for kids who threw rocks or had trouble keeping their clothes on. His heart raced at the thought of getting away with such a tremendous fabrication.

Just as Albert envisioned a standing ovation from all the boys who wished they'd pulled off what he so daringly had, Principal Mulaney picked up the phone. Then, in a moment they hadn't quite planned for, they heard the friendly squawk of their mother's voice saying "Filmore residence" on the other end. Unsure of what to think or do next, Albert wet his pants for the first time in 4 years...and then, Principal Mulaney handed him the phone.

"Go ahead, tell her what you did."

____________________


No one saw the Filmore Brothers after that.