The Christmas Heart

An endless stream of shoppers filled the sidewalks below as Mrs. Juliana Ivankov peered out her window.  She sat alone as she watched them.  Shopping bags in hand, they were the picture of Christmas Spirit; a spirit that abandoned her this holiday season.

Her brow wrinkled tightening her forehead as she breathed in deeply, trying to suppress the tears.  

On this day, December 1st, Juliana and her children officially became the unwilling occupants of a small apartment situated above a restaurant on the town square.  

She knew that the noise below should be the least of her concerns and that she should feel thankful for a roof over her head.  

Yet, she only felt a deep sense of remorse for failing her family.

The phone rang interrupting Juliana's trance.  The caller i.d. read Camilla Fabriano.  It was the second time her mother called this morning.  The first time, Juliana was preparing her children, Bella and Zakhar, for school.  She had a valid excuse for not answering the phone.  This time, she could no longer avoid her mother.

Juliana picked up the phone sighing a "Hello."

"Have you given the landlord my check yet? You know you wouldn't have to borrow money if you and Anton would try to work things out.  When your father and I were young, we had our fair share of problems and we always worked things out even if I compromised my own needs.  You can always go back to Anton."

"Yes, Mom, I gave the landlord your check yesterday.  He wouldn't give me the keys without receiving the first month's rent."

"Ya, ya, ya...Now what about you and Anton?"

"I don't really want to get into it, Mom.  I tried to make things work with Anton so the kids could have their father with them.  But, he couldn't give us what we needed.  I just didn't want the kids growing up in that environment anymore."

"Well, you're a grown woman.  Just know it is always best for children to have two parents.  Zak and Bella deserve that."

"I have to go now, Mom.  I have to get ready for an appointment." Juliana said making up an excuse to end the conversation.

"I hope it's for a job interview.  You need to get a job, Juliana."

"I can't really say.  I have to go.  Bye."

Juliana abruptly hung up the phone.  She cried in desperation.  Her Mom did not understand her or her situation.  By all appearances, her husband was a functioning alcoholic.  Anton held a respectable job, showed up for work on time and kept a good attendance record.  It was only after work, that he turned to drinking shifting him into an unpredictable mood.  At times he would act silly and other times he would become aggravated and yell without provocation.  She attempted in vain to convince Anton to seek counseling.  He refused and would not attend Alcoholics Anonymous meetings either.

For the longest time, Juliana reasoned that Anton was not hurting anything until she saw Bella cower in fear one day.

"I don't want to go in the car with Daddy."

"Why not?"

"Daddy always slams the brakes too hard.  Last time he backed into a pole and hurt my neck."

Anton always insisted on driving Bella to her dance lessons while Juliana stayed at home with Zak.  

Juliana knew his drinking affected his driving, but somewhere along the line she gave up trying to be the designated driver. 

She didn't have the energy to argue anymore until now.

Seeing Bella crying, Juliana found the courage to confront her husband.  He began to shout at her and when she wouldn't relent, he hit her in the face.  This was the first and the last time he would strike her.

After Anton left for work the next morning, Juliana reported the children absent from school.  She discreetly packed some of their favorite stuffed animals and as much clothes as she could fit in a suitcase.  There were so many things that they would leave behind.  She didn't have time to explain the full story and nor would her seven year old daughter and four year old son understand.  She only told the children they were taking a vacation from Daddy until he could get some help.

They needed to leave as fast as possible.  

Juliana locked the door to the house as her close friend waited in the driveway.  They drove to her friend's house where they contacted a local crisis center for victims of domestic abuse. Juliana felt awkward as she made the call.  Anton had only hit her once.  His words were not dangerous.  She told herself she was not a victim of abuse and hung up the phone.

Her friend took the phone from her and plead with Juliana to at least talk with the people at the crisis center.  Juliana could explain her situation to them and let them help her determine if she was abused.

Juliana made the call and moved into the shelter that night where they would remain for nearly two weeks.  The children were unsettled, constantly asking questions and having troubles sleeping at night.  The Thanksgiving holiday was not the same.  Bella, Zak and Juliana had Thanksgiving dinner with the staff, volunteers and other abuse victims.   This was hardly family and Juliana had a hard time accepting the situation.  

Even though Juliana knew in her mind the decision was for the best, in her heart she constantly doubted leaving Anton.  Right or wrong, she could put up with verbal abuse and maybe his striking her just once.  She could not accept her children being hurt in a car accident because he was too stubborn and drunk to relinquish the car keys.  This was not the for better or for worse Juliana envisioned when she married Anton.  

The crisis center offered several temporary housing alternatives from free to low rent.  Juliana wanted her children to be as comfortable as possible given the circumstances.  She opted for working with the center to locate a low rent apartment even though Juliana did not have an income of her own.  She had not worked since before Bella was born and it was hard for her to comprehend finding the means to pay rent in her present situation.  

A counselor from the center assured Juliana that there was a way to make her situation work and helped her find an apartment in a neighboring town.  The landlord had a vacancy and a generous heart offering reduced rent after some convincing by her counselor.

And so it was that Juliana moved into the small apartment above the restaurant.  Her children were not happy with the changes.  Her daughter cried as Juliana escorted her to meet a new teacher and classmates.  

This had not been an easy day and Juliana's Mom only agitated matters by second guessing her decision and throwing the need to get a job in her face.  Juliana knew she needed to find a job.  She did not know where she would work, but she knew the shelter would help her find a position.  

In one moment, she convinced herself that it was only a matter of time and things would get better.  In the next moment, she was lost in despair thinking about her children spending Christmas without their father who did not and would not know where they were located.

Juliana thought of how to explain things at Christmas; about the logistics of why there would not be many presents under their tree this year.  Would Bella and Zak believe that Santa was too busy and his elves couldn't make enough toys to give everyone a lot at Christmas.  

Even if they believed this story, Juliana still was saddened because she was not one of the shoppers on the sidewalk below; shopping for her children.  She was not making a shopping list and checking it twice.  She had no money for gifts.  What is Christmas without the spirit of giving?  Juliana lamented.  

The Season simply was not the same.  

Juliana tried to take her mind off of things by busying herself spending most of the day organizing the apartment.  Members of a local church stopped by to provide her with donations of groceries, used furniture, dishes and housewares.  Juliana was not one to accept handouts and swallowed a bit of pride to accept their generosity.  She was grateful to have their company, though, as they helped her arrange things.  They made light conversation about their own children, the local theater's production of "A Christmas Carol" and the new grocery store.  

Before long, most of the day passed.  Juliana's new friends said goodbye promising to return in a week.  Juliana suddenly noticed the time realizing she needed to pick Zak up from Head Start.  He was a lot easier than Bella to get off to school this morning, but Juliana certainly did not want to be late on his first day of a new preschool.  He might think she abandoned him.  

She used her parent's car to pick Zak up and next moved on to Bella's school.  Juliana anxiously waited in a long line of cars.  She worried because Bella was a little older and was taking things harder than Zak.  Bella finally got in the car and chatted up a storm about meeting her new teacher and her special buddy that gave her a tour of the school.  The day went much better than expected.  

Bella then mentioned a special project the class was working on for Christmas.  

Bella would need to bring in an old sweater or a knit hat, sewing scissors, a darning needle, buttons and some green or red yarn by tomorrow. 

Before Juliana could think she found herself reacting:

 "Jesus Christ! You just started school there today."

      "Why do they need all that krap by tomorrow?"

            "How am I supposed to get all that?"  

Bella started to cry.  It was only then that Juliana realized she was taking her frustrations out on Bella.  Her daughter did not deserve that kind of response.  Juliana could not take back her words, but she was legitimately frustrated.  

Normally, such a task would be easy.  Right now, Juliana did not have miracle cash to go out and buy all this stuff before tomorrow.  Nonetheless, she would find a way if it meant begging, borrowing or stealing.  She would not break her daughter's heart.

Juliana thought of the church volunteers that stopped by earlier; one of whom lived nearby.   Mrs. Elway lived alone and told Juliana to stop by with the children sometime.  Little did Mrs. Elway know that sometime would be the same day.

Juliana swallowed a little bit more of her pride as she stood on Mrs. Elway's front porch waiting for her to answer the door.  

Zak rang the doorbell several times so Mrs. Elway would be sure to answer if home.  Juliana was nervous.  

She never arrived at people's homes unannounced.  

Juliana felt rude as Mrs. Elway answered the door inviting everyone inside. 

Mrs. Elway gladly greeted them; never asking the reason for their visit.  Mrs. Elway's home was perfectly decorated as if in a story book or a magazine.  Zak would definitely need to be kept on a tight leash for fear of breaking something Juliana thought.  

Mrs. Elway took their coats, excusing herself to the other room.  She returned with puzzles and art supplies for the children.  While the children busied themselves, Mrs. Elway motioned Juliana into the kitchen where she was preparing hot tea.

It was only when Mrs. Elway asked how the children were adjusting that Juliana lost her normal calm; sobbing, barely able to get the words out about Bella's school project.  

Mrs. Elway gently put her hand on Juliana's shoulder; telling Juliana to take a deep breath.  

"God is with you, my dear girl.  He doesn't give us more than we can handle."  

Juliana knew that Mrs. Elway meant well, but Juliana could not see how God had anything to do with any of this.  How could God be watching over her and the children?  Why would God allow this to happen to them?

Juliana cried some more only regaining her composure when Zak interrupted to ask Mrs. Elway for something to drink.  Zak had a cute, sing songy tone to his voice that always melted Juliana's heart and she could see it had the same effect on Mrs. Elway.

Juliana finally returned to the subject at hand and asked Mrs. Elway if she could help with the project supplies for Bella.  Mrs. Elway asked about the type of project Bella would be doing and Juliana felt embarrassed when she could not answer.  

"Bella, what's the project about at school?"

"My teacher said it's a surprise.  I can't tell you."

"Can you tell me?" Mrs. Elway chimed in.

Bella took Mrs. Elway by the hand, pulling her into the other room, excitedly whispering all the details.  

With just a pinky promise and a smile, Mrs. Elway was now officially sworn to secrecy.


"I have the perfect sweater for your project.  My daughter wore it when she was about your age.  I've kept it all these years because this sweater was my favorite of her's, but I want you to have it now."  Mrs. Elway said to Bella.  

Mrs. Elway quickly ran upstairs to retrieve the sweater and pull the other supplies together.  

Mrs. Elway saved the day and, for a moment, Juliana forgot about her troubles.  She was grateful for her new found friend and sad as they said goodbye for the evening.

The next day, Bella did not resist going to school.  She was bounding with energy in anticipation of beginning her project.  Bella's zeal was contagious.  Juliana smiled with a sense of relief dropping her off at school.  

Juliana returned to her apartment.  It was not easy planning Christmas without the fuel of hope that normally filled Juliana this time of year.  She had so many other things to do now.  She began to make phone calls to schedule meetings with a legal adviser and social worker recommended by the crisis center.  Juliana did not look forward to the days ahead.  She was afraid.  She was alone without Anton.  But somehow she knew she could handle life without him.



Christmas day soon arrived as Bella and Max awakened Juliana from her sleep.  Juliana stretched, trying to delay going into the living room where barely any presents would be under their Christmas Tree.  "Come on, Mom." Zak squealed.  
  
        "I heard Santa on the roof last night.  He did come to our house after all." said Bella.

Juliana had set the kids up with low expectations for today.  She told them over and over that this would not be like the Christmases of their past.  

Now Juliana puzzled over her children: 


     How could their spirits remain so high after everything she told them?  

         Did Bella and Zak forget her warnings? 

They all gathered around the Christmas Tree and sat down on the floor.  Much to Juliana's surprise, her children did not want to open their gifts.  

"You go first, Mom.  You are never going to guess what I got you." Bella said with a sly smile.

"No fair, Bella, I want to give Mom my gift first." Zak said grabbing his gift from under the tree; practically ripping the wrapping paper.  

"O.K. Stop arguing you two.  Santa wants you to be friends especially on Christmas.  We can pick a number to see who goes first."  

"I'm thinking of a number between one and ten.  Who can guess what it is?"

"Nine..."         "Five..."   Bella and Zak blurted out simultaneously.  

"It's your lucky day.  Go ahead, Zak."

Zak handed Juliana his present.  She smiled as she looked at the wrapping paper which Zak had scribbled on with red and green crayons.  Inside were two popsicle sticks shaped into a cross; covered with silver and gold glitter.  Zak painted the word "Mom" with a heart next to it.  Juliana nearly cried.  She did not even know Zak could write her name.  His gift was precious.  

     "Mom...Mom...Mom...It's my turn...It's my turn.  Come on." Bella said excitedly. 

Bella's gift was inside of a brown paper bag she had decorated with stickers, glitter glue and markers.

Juliana held the bag up, turning it around, shaking and squeezing it.  

     "Hmmm...Let me guess.  Is it an elephant?"

Bella giggled and loudly exclaimed "N-O! That's too big.  Try again, Mom"

     "Ummm...Is it a stuffed animal?"

"Buzz.  You're out.  No more guesses.  You have to open it now."  

     "O.K. on the count of three...1...2...3...Here I go!"

Juliana reached inside the bag, lifting out a soft pillow.  Bella had cut Mrs. Elway's daughter's old sweater into the shape of a heart and sewed it around the edges.  

Tears filled Juliana's eyes as she read the inscription Bella sewed by hand:  

              "I Love You Mom That Is All"

Mrs. Elway was right.  God was watching over them.  Bella's Christmas Heart said it best:  

Love was all they needed.  

Mrs. Elway and Bella knew this one truth & now Juliana did too.    

They had each other.  Nothing else mattered.  Everything else would work out in time.  

~The End~

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Post Note:

The above is a fictional account of an abusive relationship.  If you or someone you know is in an abusive relationship, there is a way out.  

Contact the National Domestic Abuse Hotline at 1-800-799-7233 for help. 

You are not alone.  There is support.  

You deserve a better life and it begins with a phone call. 

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 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…