The Story of Harold Morton: Part Six

New or need a refresher?  Link to prior chapters

Dazed and Confused

Harold slept with regret that night and awoke the next morning bewildered.  He experienced the perfect opportunity to live out the fantasy of many men.  Yet as he, Lonnie and Izzy were boarding the elevator to his room, he darted at the last minute leaving the two of them alone. 

Harold could not go through with it. 

Harold’s heart raced from a combination of excess stimulation, flight from fear and anticipation of soon meeting Evelyn.  He needed a fix to calm down.  

Believing they might find him if he returned to his room, Harold doubled back to the rental car, plugged 4^th Street into the navigator and headed toward the inner city of Davenport, Iowa. 

A friend told Harold there would be a row of abandoned houses behind a church on 4^th street that could meet any of his needs.  As Harold pulled up in front of the church, he noticed the narrow sidewalk forming an alleyway between the church and a house next door.  He killed the engine, looked around and quickly exited his car making a run for the alley. 

Harold could hear a bustle of activity as he passed through the alleyway.  The street on the other side was dimly lit and he panicked trying to think through how to find the right house.  A man approached soliciting girls and Harold became angry that such scumbags existed.  He continued to walk asking passersby where he could find a smoke.  Harold was escorted into a smoke-filled house that smelled of cannabis and musty mildew. 

A mix of unconscious and conscious random strangers littered the rooms inside the house; some were situated at tables or mattresses on the floor ~ definitely not the controlled setting Harold had accustomed himself to in his apartment in Baltimore.  Harold made a quick purchase and sat down on the floor lighting up a plastic bong.  For one night, he did not care that the bong was dirtied and yellowed from use.  He needed to relax and would suspend rationale judgment toward this goal.

He inhaled deeply; tithing him over until he could see Evelyn tomorrow afternoon.               

To Be Continued...

The Story of Harold Morton Part Five

Temptations #3 and #4

Tomorrow, Harold would meet Evelyn again.  Originally he planned for Evelyn to meet him in Davenport.  Evelyn dismissed this plan saying “I’m taking off work to be with you and all you can offer is a po-dunk town in the middle of a cornfield?”  Harold planned an elaborate weekend (he could not afford) in Chicago hoping to ease the tensions.

By now, Harold was living below zero with significant credit card debt plus the need to repay Evelyn’s parents $18,000.  Harold never made Evelyn aware of this loan and he had no intention of it.  He was driven by the needs to shield her from worry and to repay Evelyn for turning his life around.   He wanted Evelyn to believe that he was successful; that he could support her.  He would do anything to please Evelyn at any cost.

Lonnie and Harold would cover three bookstores today.  By now, women who had not even read the book were coming just to see Logan Harrington.  He tried not to let this attention go to his head, yet he definitely enjoyed the temptation. 

As they closed out the last bookstore for the day, Lonnie was wrapping up business matters with the store manager.  Harold’s voice was hoarse so he went to the in-store café and ordered a hot tea.  As he waited for his order, he felt someone touch him on the leg and thought perhaps the person in line behind him was a bit too close.  And then he heard a whisper “Did you enjoy last night?  There’s more where that came from”; Izzy gently touching him from behind.  Aroused in his sober state, Harold felt a rush of adrenaline.  He knew that he should ignore Izzy.  Yet, her openness was an invitation that he wanted to explore further.    

He invited Izzy to sit down while he waited for Lonnie.  Harold started to discuss the day’s events only to be interrupted by Izzy describing the movies they viewed the night before.  Harold had no recollection of these, but he was certainly willing to relive the memories through Izzy’s retelling as she described various sexual acts; after each act, asking if Harold wanted more. 

Harold was so entranced by Izzy’s soft voice describing such things that he did not notice Lonnie standing on the other side of the table listening to their conversation.  Lonnie suddenly interjected; Harold turning deep red with embarrassment.  To his surprise, Lonnie did not react in anger; instead, she made herself a part of Izzy’s conversation. Temptations #3 and #4 arrived as Harold, Lonnie and Izzy left together for the night.                     

To Be Continued...

The Story of Harold Morton Part Four

Temptation #2

For a refresher on prior parts, link to the full story here

The only words between Harold and Lonnie now involved their travel plans and how they would get from point A to point B today.  Davenport, Iowa would be the next stop on his book tour.  They flew into Chicago connecting on a regional flight to nearby Moline.  

As their flight approached the small regional airport, Harold observed the abrupt change in the landscape below from vast farm fields to a space of suddenly densely populated houses.  Harold and Lonnie would be in Davenport for six days including the weekend.  

He wondered how they could ever spend so much time in this small area.  How many bookstores could there be here?  They drove their small rental car to a motel situated on the Mississippi River.  By now, a hotel was a motel was a hotel to Harold – just another place with a pillow and a bed to rest at night.  The only variations were the noise level at night, the cleanliness of the rooms, cable or local channels and whether the hotel offered a continental breakfast in the morning.  The view of the river here was quite nice though.

In the morning, Harold and Lonnie met over breakfast to discuss their agendas for local bookstore visits.  Everything was pretty much a routine with one difference.  Today they would visit the St. Ambrose University bookstore on the campus of a private Catholic college.  Given the subject matter of his book, Harold knew that he would have both fans and haters at the university.

He was amused that a book he mostly wrote while melancholy high could stir such a passion in others.  He viewed the controversy as a mark of personal success though Harold himself could not fully reconcile his feelings of guilt for writing such a book.  

He no longer attended Mass regularly and, without routine confession, he pondered his fate: would he be damned to hell or would he be pardoned at his next most likely meeting with a priest as he lay on his deathbed.     

Protestors were in front of the bookstore as Harold and Lonnie arrived on campus.  Harold smirked as he read a sign targeted toward him reading “Satan’s Author;” the students repeatedly chanting “You burn Him, Baby; You won’t win; Burn baby, burn.” 

They were greeted by a university representative and two security guards to escort them into the bookstore.  The usual book signing was followed by several break-out sessions wherein Harold discussed his work with college students enrolled in various courses.  Harold had never led any break-out sessions and this task would prove to be a challenge.  Many of the students had strong opinions on the book given their own catholic upbringing.  Many of their questions were rooted in the teachings of Catholicism, something Harold knew might happen, but was not entirely prepared to address.  This discomfort caused Harold to stumble on his words at times and overall the day was not going well.    

Harold’s head was still spinning from overzealous college students as Harold exited the university bookstore.  As he recapped the day, Harold was most impressed that a Modern Literature professor dedicated a whole week of class time to discussing his book.  He was scheduled to meet alone with the professor for dinner later that evening.  Part of the publisher’s marketing plan was to meet with university professors in hopes professors would influence their university bookstores to order more copies of his book and other authors at the publisher. 

Lonnie would not be able to attend the meeting tonight because she would be visiting nearby relations.  Harold did not want to carry the weight of the evening’s conversation on his own.  After the day’s event, Harold was not looking forward to meeting anyone let alone an egg-headed prof who might grill him into the ground with questions. 

As Harold arrived early at the restaurant, he had one thing on his mind: a drink.  He provided the hostess with the professor’s name and instructed her to fetch him from the bar upon arrival.  He ordered a shot of Jack Daniels straight up to ease his nerves.  He would settle for a Jack and Coke when the professor arrived.  He had never met the professor before and did not want to give him the wrong impression by drinking his liquor at full strength. 

Harold ordered one more shot of JD before the hostess called his name.  He put a word in with the bartender to pour his subsequent orders of Jack & Coke extra strong.  Harold then turned toward the front of the restaurant scanning for the professor.  He caught sight of a tall young lady with knock out legs.  Her green eyes glowed against her mulatto skin as Harold’s thoughts turned exotic.  The hostess escorted Harold and introduced him to this beautiful green eyed lady; the professor, Dr. Isabelle Robinson. 

Harold’s nerves were further on edge now as he fought his attraction to Dr. Robinson.  He tried to think of Evelyn.  There were millions of other attractive women just like the professor he told himself.  He always wanted to remain true to Evelyn.

Dr. Robinson proved to be quite engaging in conversation.  She was 31 years old; relatively young compared to her peers.  Light rock music playing in the background, she shared with Harold her disdain for it, how she had recently attended a hip hop concert and not remembering her drunken experience afterward.  Dr. Robinson did not match Harold’s preconceived notion of a professor and he could not take his eyes away from her.  The professor’s easy going disposition should have eased Harold’s nerves, but instead he became tongue tied; struggling to remember the publisher’s canned sales spiel.  

When their waitress arrived, Harold abandoned his original plan and ordered another shot of Jack Daniels.  He desperately needed to take the edge off his nerves so he could refocus the conversation on selling books.  This plan backfired as one drink led to another and the professor offered Harold a ride to the hotel because he was in no condition to drive himself. 

The world spun as Harold rose from his chair to his feet.  He could barely support himself and Dr. Robinson (now affectionately known to him as Izzy) lent her arm to steady him.  She drove him back to the hotel feeling it necessary to personally escort Harold to his room; a destination he would not find on his own given his drunken stupor.  Harold said “Good Night” walking into the room; unbeknownst to him being followed by the professor.  

He only wanted to crawl into bed now and sleep off his liquor.  Izzy had other intentions as she pushed him down on to the bed, straddling on top of him.  Every sense in his body awakened, except the one that mattered and Izzy turned on the television to some less than appropriate adult content in hopes of stimulating him.

He awoke in a fog the next morning.  The last thing he remembered was burying his head in Izzy’s cleavage as she straddled him.   Temptation #2 was a mystery.  As he covered his face with his hands, massaging his aching head, he did not know if the deed was done last night.    He only knew that he loved Evelyn and he needed to see her now more than ever before.             

The Story of Harold Morton Part Three

Harold returned to his hotel room, flustered and frustrated by Temptation #1.  He thought over his first meeting with Lonnie.  She wore a turtleneck, knit cardigan and baggy khaki pants and, in a very flat voice, she addressed him as Mr. Morton.  In the last month, Harold came to know Lonnie as a task master anally driving his schedule on time, ensuring travel arrangements were intact and bookstore managers had promotion materials.  She seemed to be a rule follower.  Harold would not have pegged her as the spontaneous back of the taxi seductress type. 

He needed to hear the reassuring voice of his wife, Evelyn, so he phoned her immediately.  When Evelyn answered the phone, she sounded out of breath and Harold asked her how she was feeling.  “I’m feeling like crap.  I can’t get rid of the smell of sick patients.  Your clothes are still on the floor from the last time you were home.  I don’t remember when?  Do you?”  Harold wanted to be close to her, to reassure Evelyn that everything would be alright.  He knew it was bad timing, but he asked her to fly to the next city on his book tour so they could reunite.  “I’ll see what I can do to trade shifts with some of the other nurses and get a few days off” was Evelyn’s response.

Harold was the only man Evelyn had ever been with.  She truly missed him; his warm sense of humor and his gentle voice.  She was not one to openly express her emotions though and her longing during his absence translated into fits of frustration each time they talked on the phone.  Evelyn had always been Harold’s rock.  When his grandfather passed away, Evelyn looked in on Harold every day.   Harold was devastated by losing his grandfather; a man who had been more of a father to him than his own.  Harold went into a depression that almost cost him his freshman year of college causing him to struggle as a first year Chemistry major.  Evelyn comforted Harold bringing him food from the dining hall when Harold refused to get out of bed.  She tried in vain to get him out the door each day to attend his classes.  She encouraged him to bounce back when he began to fail Organic Chemistry.  She made him swallow his pride and she helped him pay for private tutoring in an attempt to save his grade; his parents could afford tutoring, but Harold was too embarrassed to ask their assistance.  When the private tutoring could not lift him above a “C” average, Harold felt defeated knowing that he needed to maintain a “B” average to remain in the Chemistry program. 

Harold was considering dropping out of college when Evelyn suggested another option: majoring in English.  Harold would never consider this major if not for Evelyn.  She buttered Harold up, telling him how great his English papers were in high school.  When Harold in his insecurity did not believe her and resisted, she scheduled an appointment with his counselor to switch his major for him.  She set Harold on the path that led to his current success.  Harold would not forsake Evelyn for Temptation Number One.  Evelyn alone possessed his loyalty.

Harold awoke the next morning and quickly finished his breakfast.  He proceeded to the lobby to meet Lonnie, avoiding eye contact, both boarding a taxi to the airport.  Lonnie nervously chatted at warp speed warding off Harold’s attempts to interject.  She was aware of crossing the line last night and, now that she was on the other side, she wanted to be the one in control.    As Lonnie put her hand on Harold’s knee, he could feel his body tensing and his ears beginning to burn.  His hand smacked down hard on top of her’s; impulsively pushing it away. 

    Lonnie began to cry. 

Harold was helpless. He did not know how to react to her tears.  While he was remorseful for smacking her, a part of him felt that she deserved it for touching him.  She knew him as a married man.  Harold needed to say something to her, but what he did not know.  He needed to apologize.  Yet, he also felt violated by her actions and entitled to an apology from her.  Harold knew that Lonnie was under no obligation to apologize and held the upper hand in her game of cat and mouse.  Lonnie was tightly connected to executive management at the publisher and could easily report him as abusive to the higher ups.  This would essentially derail the fast track to success that Harold was hoping to ride. 

Still sobbing, Lonnie attempted to hide her face, cusping her hands over it.  Harold leaned into Lonnie, softly taking her injured hand, caressing it, telling her he was wrong to hit her and that she did not deserve to be treated this way by him or anyone else.  Harold fell into a sympathy kiss intended as a “boo-boo” friendship kiss and misinterpreted by Lonnie as something more.  This approach was not in Harold’s original plan.  He needed to stop Lonnie’s tears a.s.a.p. and his kiss served this purpose for the time being. 

The rest of the week was tense between them.  Lonnie took every opportunity to corner Harold and he felt like a broken record repeating “I am a married man” over and over to her.  He would not lose his temper again.  Instead, Harold tried to avoid Lonnie to the extent possible given that they worked with one another all day.  Harold thought Evelyn’s arrival on Saturday would be the solution.   Surely Lonnie would see his love and commitment to Evelyn then.  

To Be Continued...

Post Note:

This story was initially intended to be three parts only.  I am new to publishing fiction online.  I make mistakes.  As I continue to write the story, I realize that there is more to be told than just three parts will allow.  I was naive in believing I could achieve such brevity.  I hope you are intrigued by Harold Morton's life.  Please continue to read this story and comment.  I only hope to improve and grow as a writer as I venture more into other stories on this blog.  Thank you for your patience.    

A Sneak Preview

A Sneak Preview into Part Three ~ The Story of Harold Morton

This is still a work in progress...

Harold returned to his hotel room, flustered and frustrated by Temptation #1.  He thought over his first meeting with Lonnie.  She wore a turtleneck, knit cardigan and baggy khaki pants and, in a very flat voice, she addressed him as Mr. Morton.  In the last month, Harold came to know Lonnie as a task master anally driving his schedule on time, ensuring travel arrangements were intact and bookstore managers had promotion materials.  She seemed to be a rule follower.  Harold would not have pegged her as the spontaneous back of the taxi seductress type. 

He needed to hear the reassuring voice of his wife, Evelyn, so he phoned her immediately.  When Evelyn answered the phone, she sounded out of breath and Harold asked her how she was feeling.  “I’m feeling like crap.  I can’t get rid of the smell of sick patients.  Your clothes are still on the floor from the last time you were home.  I don’t remember when?  Do you?”  Harold wanted to be close to her, to reassure Evelyn that everything would be alright.  He knew it was bad timing, but he asked her to fly to the next city on his book tour so they could reunite.  “I’ll see what I can do to trade shifts with some of the other nurses and get a few days off” was Evelyn’s response.

Harold was the only man Evelyn had ever been with.  She truly missed him; his warm sense of humor and his gentle voice.  She was not one to openly express her emotions though and her longing during his absence translated into fits of frustration each time they talked on the phone.  

Evelyn had always been Harold’s rock.  When his grandfather passed away, Evelyn looked in on Harold every day.   Harold was devastated by losing his grandfather; a man who had been more of a father to him than his own.  Harold went into a depression that almost cost him his freshman year of college causing him to struggle as a first year Chemistry major.  Evelyn comforted Harold bringing him food from the dining hall when Harold refused to get out of bed.  She tried in vain to get him out the door each day to attend his classes.  She encouraged him to bounce back when he began to fail Organic Chemistry.  She made him swallow his pride and she helped him pay for private tutoring in an attempt to save his grade; his parents could afford tutoring, but Harold was too embarrassed to ask their assistance.  

When the private tutoring could not lift him above a “C” average, Harold felt defeated knowing that he needed to maintain a “B” average to remain in the Chemistry program. 

Harold was considering dropping out of college when Evelyn suggested another option: majoring in English.  Harold would never consider this major if not for Evelyn.  She buttered Harold up, telling him how great his English papers were in high school.  When Harold in his insecurity did not believe her and resisted, she scheduled an appointment with his counselor to switch his major for him.  She set Harold on the path that led to his current success.  

Harold would not forsake Evelyn for Temptation #1.  Evelyn alone possessed his loyalty...

To Be Continued...         

The Story of Harold Morton Continues

Part Two of Three:

Harold went about the task of seeking a Literary Agent the only way he knew how: He bought a “How To Find A Literary Agent” book.  Among other things, this book told him that he needed to properly brand himself to attract the best Literary Agents.  His first step would be to create a self-identity as an author.  

He thought on his image.  His straggly dishwater blonde hair inched past collar length; his lace pimpled face well beyond puberty; his eyes scanned downward, his shirt faded, jeans torn; fraying at the bottoms, the skin on his heals rough; his toes peeking through his cracked leather birkenstocks.  How could the image of a disheveled, pot smoking, jobless recent college grad be positively received by the average Literary Agent and potential book buyers?  It seemed to him that such an image would narrow his audience.  Even if he omitted his pot use, the truth seemed trite, represented too typical of an image and his youth might undermine his credibility.

 

Insecure in his inward and outward appearance, he realized the truth would need significant enhancement to generate energy around him; to evoke the interest of others. 

He was confident in only one truth about himself: He was a damn good author of fiction on paper and in his own version of life; a version he devised to continuously survive the monotony of a less than glamorous reality.

 

If what underlied Harold’s one life truth was essentially fiction, then he reasoned that he should and could create his own biography to match this reality.  In truth, he mostly marched under Lucifer’s influence in a band of saints and sinners.  Yet, he did attend church as a youth including faithfully attending PSR¹ classes and serving as an Altar Boy for many years.  He graduated from college, married his high school sweetheart, believed in God and the setting of his story was in the Catholic Church.  On paper, he had the throw-back values of a 1950’s era male.  These facts, when combined, painted an “awe shucks” image of a faithful husband and Christian; the perfect image Harold thought to brand Harold Morton, Author, established year 2014.

       

His societal image of manliness succumbed now to trading in his trusty barber for a master hair stylist as he dialed to schedule an appointment at a full service salon.  His assigned stylist, Yvonne, appeared wearing a form fitting short black dress, leggings and combat boots.  Her toughness softened by her almond shaped blue eyes and pale, delicate face.  She escorted Harold to the back of the salon, sat him down and straddled over him to reach the sink.  Harold closed his eyes, feeling her breast pressing into his shoulder, warm water bathing him, her fingers massaging shampoo into his hair.  Yvonne’s touch made it easy to release his loyalty to Jimmy Hanes, his barber since childhood.  When she asked him how he would like his hair cut, Harold told her to do whatever she wanted to him.  He trusted Yvonne to reinvent his image.

 

Yvonne parted Harold’s hair to the right side, cutting the sides of his hair close, leaving significant length on top, and wrapping his hair in foils to achieve highlights of blond intermixed with an auburn color.  This process seemed to take forever compared to his usual quickie haircut.  Harold had never had a true hair style before and now she slicked his hair back creating a slightly high “Pompadour” on his crown.  This was not his father’s haircut.  He could hear his father calling him a “Nancy,” a “Pansy” or some other emasculating name.

 

Yvonne told him the highlights accentuated his blue eyes; the style playing on his naturally wavy hair, conveying the innocent retro feel of the 1950’s with a hint of rebellion.  To Harold, his hair was a shiny, waxy distraction.

As Harold questioned whether this was indeed the right look, Yvonne responded by rubbing his shoulders to the rhythm of “Doo, do, doo, do, doo, do, do, doo” singing in a whispery voice “hey babe, take a walk on the wild side;” playfully calling him her little James Dean. Her voice emanated Sex[iness] to Harold.  At this point, he would buy anything Yvonne sold him; [she] the haircut was perfect.  He made full payment and tipped Yvonne generously.

 

Newly purchased pomade hair wax in hand, Harold exited to his car still feeling slightly uncomfortable as he looked at himself in the rearview mirror.  The next stop for Harold would be a trip to the dermatologist to start anti-acne treatments. He would then hire a photographer to take a head shot once his acne cleared.  About one week, he optimistically estimated.

A natural procrastinator, all this primping and pampering was a surface coat to detract Harold from the most basis task; writing a query letter to sell himself and his book to Literary Agents.  He researched Literary Agents online; paying for a qualified list of agents from a major publisher.  Once he narrowed down a list, he submitted query letters to select agents.  Harold grew impatient as two weeks passed with no responses.  He tried to look at the bright side: no response meant no rejection, but he did not have time to wait.  

As a matter of normal course, he knew many Agents were backlogged by high submissions and would only guarantee responses within six months of submission.  This was of no use to Harold.  He was desperate to repay his parents’ loan before they started asking why his wife was not driving a new car.

     

He networked through his father’s friend to land a decent agent.  With only a few submissions, this Literary Agent connected him with a publisher.  Harold was so taken by surprise that he immediately signed the publisher’s contract.  He was enamored with what he thought was a generous offer on the publisher’s behalf.  The publisher would pay him an advance of $8,000 plus cover the cost of all publication and distribution expenses.  The publisher would receive the royalties, but would still give him 25% of the net profits.  Harold was an English major with very little understanding of business.  He thought this was a great deal.   

The publisher gained full rights to his work including any revisions made to the story before publication.  And revisions there were.   So many, the book became a national bestseller in the Christian book category and, overnight, Harold Morton went from daily smoking a bong to touring the nation as a Christian author.

 

Harold Morton’s new life was as pretentious as his publisher given penname, Logan Harrington.

             

To reinforce Logan Harrington’s Christian good guy image, the publicist suggested that his public persona should be anchored to his wife, Evelyn.  The publicist stipulated that Evelyn should appear with Harold whenever possible at book signings to show the public the strength of their marriage and commitment to one another.  While the signing bonus finally interested Evelyn in Harold’s writing occupation, she was not flattered with doing publicity.  Evelyn did not want to risk losing her nursing job by taking time away to help Harold.  His signing advance was not enough to support them.  Evelyn’s job still paid the bills.  She would do what she could to help out, but she would not sacrifice herself and her position. 

Evelyn’s resistance left Harold to travel alone most of the time.  At the publisher’s expense, the bookstore tour allowed him to travel to places he had never seen before; some exciting; some not.  Far from first class accommodations, he flew commercial coach and stayed in second rate hotels.  Still Harold was caught up in the newness of it all; a refreshing change from staying in his apartment all day.  Of course, frequent travel complicated his daily bong habit and he sought out unique and creative ways to fulfill his needs while on the road. 

Harold had been on tour for over one month now.  He missed Evelyn who remained at home to work.  Evelyn refused to use Skype because she was afraid someone would hack into their video and see her in pajamas or something.  Their only contact these days was over the phone or through emails and Evelyn seemed so distant.  He could not look her directly in the eyes, he could not touch her hand among other parts of her body.  Their newfound long distance relationship was not satisfying his physical or emotional needs.  There was no time or budget in the publisher’s tour schedule to fly home.  Harold was lonely.

Harold was also beginning to be noticed while on tour.  At first he shied away from all the attention.  Then Harold’s publicist, Lonnie Ray, joked about all the women raving about Harold’s geekish, boyish charm when he hardly spoke a word to them.  Before this, Harold thought of himself as simply a machine, giving a speech, sitting at a table afterward, answering a few questions, smiling and signing books.  Now, he started to take notice of the women, making eye contact, smiling a little bigger and intentionally running his right hand through his hair while signing autographs with his left.  

Women took note of his sex appeal, this unnerved him a bit at first, but Harold knew one thing about publishing: Sex Sells.  He could overcome his nerves for the monetary gain this one truth could yield.

 

Catching a taxi back to the hotel after yet another book signing, Lonnie Ray complimented Harold on his business savvy, teasingly asking if Harold was getting any action from his “groupies.”  Harold blushed at this suggestion and tried to deflect Lonnie’s comment by saying he had a perfectly hot wife at home, “what would I want with a groupie?”  Lonnie slid closer to Harold, placing her hand between his thighs, moving upward to his zipper, suddenly stopping.  “I think you know what you would want, don’t you Mr. Logan Harrington?”  With these words, she gave Harold a quick kiss on the cheek, exited the cab and rushed into the hotel.  

Harold followed to no avail as the elevator doors closed without him.  Lonnie, as she had planned, went to her room alone.

To Be Continued…

The Story of Harold Morton

Part One of Three:

Stained Glass Inspiration

It was never his intent to once again seek what he never seemed to find.  Yet, like heroin shooting through his veins, the desire of Number Seven drew him in without warning as she rejected his latest submission for publication.

Harold Morton began dating his wife, Evelyn, during their Senior year in High School.  Inwardly drawn and knowing nothing outside of the comfort of Evelyn’s mannerisms and touch, Harold married her the summer after completing college.  English diploma in hand, jobless, Harold drifted as Evelyn assumed a nursing position at John Hopkins Hospital in Maryland.

  After Evelyn left for her day shift, Harold would lock himself inside the apartment to work on his novel with his constant companion: a glass beaker.  To his wife, this beaker appeared to be something left over from one of his chemistry classes before he made the decision to study English.  To Harold, this beaker was an inspirational lifeline.  Using money left over in his parent funded student account, he bought inventory in marijuana and daily filled the beaker converted bong; inhaling to ease his mind from the constant bickering of expectations from Evelyn and her parents:

  “Do you have any job leads?  What about taking a job as a writer for such & such local newspaper?  Harold had standards and he would not lower himself to work for a small town local.  His wife and the In-Laws viewed any job as a source of income.  He viewed these publications as nothing more than black and white ink on paper to support a colorful stream of advertising revenue. 

Despite his daily habit, Harold had an amazing physical drive for his bride which satisfied the best aspect of being newlywed and helped to offset the more routine aspects of their relationship.  Nightly on repeat, Evelyn arrived home from her job at the hospital, she and Harold ate dinner in or out, talked about her patients, bed pan mishaps, an aggravating doctor or two, watched t.v. or a movie together and then went to sleep. 

As the beaker nightly decorated a shelf in their living room, Evelyn neither questioned the beaker’s slightly unusual appearance nor its holes. 

In fact, outside of his job search, she never questioned Harold’s daily activities and showed little, if any, interest in his writing.  To Evelyn, his writing at home was a hobby; a sport for fun; something to pass the time until her husband could secure a full time job.  Unmotivated to actively seek a job, the summer neared an end without success for Harold. 

Newlywed vulnerability exposed, Harold felt pressured as his Father-In-Law once again berated him.  Escaping the job search, Harold applied and gained admittance into the Master’s program in English Literature at John Hopkins University.  Shotgun, Harold knew he must complete his first novel now.  He would never have time to write for leisure once he started his Master’s degree.

Acceptance letter in hand, Harold was on top of the world as he began his daily writing ritual.  Harold tapped water from the sink, filling the bong, packing cannabis in the top of the stem, waiting for smoke to build in the chamber.  As he was held back from that which he desperately craved, his eyes fixated on the multi-fluorescent colors of the bong to pass time.  Its glass reminded him of the stain glass windows in the church he attended for the first eighteen years of his life.  He inhaled the freshly circulating smoke several times.  In one moment, he knew the bong to church comparison was so wrong and in another moment he fervently pounded words into his computer as an idea was born that would catapult his novel forward.

The words flowed as he described school children playing baseball in the church yard.  The usual team captains were elected drawing up teams of us against them.  A wiry boy, Timothy O’Shanahan was the last to be chosen by the lesser of the two captains.  The odds were not in favor of Timothy’s team, yet somehow as the least expected hero, Timothy, came up to bat, the ball sailed through the air, past the outfield, crashing through a stain glass window.  Members of both teams fled in a panic leaving only Timothy, paralyzed by fear as he remembered overhearing his Mom chastise his Father with the words: “May you be in heaven a full hour before the devil knows you are dead.” 

Timothy thought “what if I don’t make it to heaven, because I am immediately damned to hell for breaking God’s window?”  He dreaded the nuns arriving on the scene.  He hoped if anyone, Sister Mallory would arrive and not one of the yardstick wielding nuns.  Sister Mallory always had kind eyes for Timothy.  To Timothy’s surprise, Father Gallagher arrived driving the premise for the novel: the irresistible temptation of an affair with Timothy’s mother, a beautiful young parishioner with a troubled marriage to an abusive alcoholic. 

Timothy’s mother, Rachel, would protect her son at any cost.  She knew she could not ask her husband for the money to repair the window.  If she told her husband, he might break one or all of Timothy’s bones depending on his day or mood.  Father Gallagher recognized the situation, using his power to leverage Rachel’s fear of her husband in exchange for personal sexual favors as repayment to repair the glass window.  The novel builds as Father Gallagher and Rachel’s relationship continues, a pregnancy ensues, and a respected priest protects his position at any cost as he rises to a Bishop over the Diocese.  

As a writer, the novel allowed Harold to draw on his own Catholic upbringing.  He juxtaposed the priest’s action versus God’s teachings and the story’s outcome took on a moral tone.  As he completed his final draft, Harold shot a copy to an old friend who told Harold he should consider submitting the novel for publication.  Publication was always Harold’s goal for the novel, but to win the publication game, he would need to hire one of the best agents.  This would take money; something Harold did not have and his wife would not support. 

Harold’s parents were wealthy, but he knew they would only loan him money under the direst of circumstances.  So he concocted a story about their old car being virtually beyond repair and his wife being in the early stages of a risky pregnancy.  He told his parents that the pregnancy was a secret and he did not want Evelyn to risk the car breaking down with a baby on the way.  His parents were overridden with guilt and concern for what would be their first grandbaby.  The plan worked just as expected when they wrote Harold Morton a cashier’s check for $25,000.

Harold took a small reserve fund to buy more pot and established a separate bank account to hide the money from Evelyn.  Fueling a bong to celebrate, Harold toggled the world wide web in search of a Literary Agent. 

To Be Continued…

Forever Bright ~ Part Six

As the line slowly inched forward, he peered inside each window, hoping to see Mei Ling already situated at a table.  Her bus should have arrived 10 minutes earlier than his.  Chang Ming reasoned: perhaps, her bus was delayed in traffic or there was an accident as was common in a city this populous. 

Chang Ming waited for over one hour until the waitress finally suggested that he either order something more or finish by paying his bill.  His eyes moistened as if a tear could form at any moment, but he would not disgrace himself by crying in public.  He quickly paid the bill and exited.     Mei Ling did not arrive for reasons he could only surmise: maybe she forgot about their date or her parents forbid her from seeing Chang Ming alone.   It was easier for him to believe the latter circumstance. 

His heart receding, he let the bus home pass him by.  Chang Ming slowly walked instead, his eyes drawn downward, counting the sidewalk cracks just as he did when he was a small boy.   

Before Chang Ming could fully push his house door open, his Grandfather angrily walked toward him, nearly chest to chest, forcing Chang Ming to take a step back, losing his balance, knocking him down.  This was not his Grandfather’s intention, but once Chang Ming was on the ground, his Grandfather straddled him, pinning his arms, overcome by rage.  Now telling Chang Ming to “keep his eyes open,” he did not dare disobey.  Grandfather loudly summoned mucous from the depths of his throat, and within close range, forcefully spit directly in Chang Ming’s eyes.  “Your Grandmother went through great efforts to make your breakfast this morning and to neatly prepare your clothes.  You treated her as garbage and now I treat you the same.”  Speaking only these words, Chang Ming’s Grandfather quickly got up, returning inside the house. 

Chang Ming’s first instinct was to stay outside, remaining still on the ground, but he knew his Grandfather would not accept this behavior so he too went inside.  His Grandmother greeted him with the silence of her stern expressionless steer; a silence designed to amplify Chang Ming’s own humiliation triggering a delicate dance to restore his honor.  Less than one week remained before his departure to America and he did not want to leave on bad terms with his family.

To Be Continued...