Thursday, September 29, 2011

Here's my Confession

Page 46

The 60's...what's a girl to do?

So why did I not find my calling?

My parents divorce, and then the 60’s. Finally puberty.

My teenage years were turmoil.
The good Lord had the audacity to make me a vixen. And I embraced this. My brothers were horrid creatures who taunted and tortured me from a young child. They would call me fat, ugly, Dumbo because of my big ears and nose, a fat ass. I had such low self-esteem.

But as it often does, I grew out of that ‘ugly duckling” stage.

One of my brothers, the worst of the bunch, the one who truly despised me actually said, “You are so beautiful, if you weren’t my sister, I would date you.”

That statement was a turning point. No one can take that away from me. He still to this day is
a spiteful overgrown brat. Others in my family have twisted this statement and made him believe I actually felt he was making a physical advance. Nothing of the sort happened. The thought is disgusting. No one will be able to deprive me of that one conquest. Getting the approval of my sibling.

My parents divorce had precluded parenting. They were both caught up in what the other was doing. I was the middle child. My two older brothers had their own lives away from home, and my little brother and sister were too young to recognize any unfavorable family patterns.

I, on the other hand, was the middle child. Both parents played me against the other. Both were convinced I had information on the other and used me as a threat to take to court. It was propaganda as I knew little of their shortcomings and truly, did not give a shit. I was old enough to know that what they were doing was nothing close to parenting.

My mother was a loyal wife, I must say, but she screamed constantly and never seemed to be happy. And she did not quite understand that a full checkbook did not mean a full bank account.

The only time she treated me fairly was during the time we evaded a process server who was to serve her with divorce papers. We spent true quality time together peppered with interrogations about my father.  And I took what I could get.

My father on the other hand acted despicably, having an affair and damaging any hope of a family life together.

I lived with my grandparents for a bit. I adored them, and they me. However, a teenager was far too much to handle, and I was a mess. I required a lot of supervision since I had no idea which way to turn.

A family friend, Roy, had been a mentor of mine during that time. He came to my rescue often with lectures of how to be a lady, and remedies for my horrific pain after having my tonsils out. Aspergum.

I lived with my father for a bit, but that ended when the manager of his apartments made a dangerous move toward me and my father felt it best I leave. You know, people talk.

It got so out of hand, I ran away, and eventually was committed to a psychiatric ward, where the Psychologist on hand told me my mother hated me and my father was too detached to care.

I was put in a foster home, which, due to my family’s ability to manipulate the system, turned out to be my grandmother’s cousin.

The only person to come and see me was the brother I mentioned earlier. He would do things like that from time to time. I am sure it was torture, trying to be a brother. I feel he somehow had a feeling of duty. But he came, and I was scared, so it all worked to both our advantages.

Eventually, the social worker involved with my case, took custody of me.

That will be one of those events that would haunt me and my ability to bond forever.

Sitting at a restaurant by Washington Bowl in Kenosha, my father walked through the door and slipped into the seat next to me, signed the documents and left. That was it. Jeanne, the social worker, had custody of me, and we packed up and went to FonduLac to avoid gossip and rumor.

My parents got their “War of the Roses”, three years of court and crying divorce, which cost a fortune, and everyone settled into their new lives. Jeanne and I into ours.

I had met a boy during one of my visits to Kenosha. He was a worldly young man from Chicago named Jim. He fell in love the day he met me, as he reminded everyone often.

length. The pockets hanging below the fringe. I sported a black felt hat, one of the uniform accessories worn by the hippies of the day. I disposed of the hat after word got around Kenosha that a known drug informant wore the same model.

After a short courtship, and a scare of my almost dying from a ruptured ovary, Jim asked me to marry him.

I did not love him, but after he threw himself down on the street in the middle of Paulina in Chicago, my best friend Gretchen said, “Dianne, if someone loved me that much, I don’t care how I felt, I would marry him. She made me feel like this would never happen again. And maybe, if he was so in love with me, why couldn’t I be in love with him?

My mother advising, changing, recommending, demanding would have her societal wedding.

Music Sky Ferrera/Here's my Confession
Artwork: Dianne as a girl/Dianne Schuch Lindsey

©   This material is the copyright Dianne Schuch Lindsey and cannot be duplicated in any fashion without the express permission of the Author.    All rights reserved

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Before the Fall (continued)

Page 45
Sister Dianne

The door shut behind. There I stood, in the foyer with the prerequisite coat rack and umbrella stand and an antique mirror and halting throne
The mother superior took my hand and then put her arm around my shoulder.
Today, as I write this I am drawn to tears, at both the completeness of that moment and what I sacrificed to be what I am today.
She led me into the “family” room where several of the holy ladies spent their evenings. There was no television. There was a piano. The same piano I had played as a young child. I guess it had become retired from teaching and now waited for the graceful hands of the holy only to ring the sounds of Christmas Carols..

The room smelled of old wood, pine cleaner and the carbon blue of the mimeograph machines teachers used to duplicate work for the students. I could smell the remnants of dinner, roast beef perhaps?
There was no carpeting; hook rugs covered the polished wood floors. The chairs and couch had the tweedy, prickly fabric so customary in “Early American” décor. The decorations consisted of everything from holy statues to knick-knacks of children and flowers. Magazines, books, papers of students being corrected by the Sisters who taught.
One of the sisters sat on a chair in the far corner of the vast room with a guitar. She was picking a tune, a sheet of music across the ottoman as she found the chords.
Sister Francis, who had led me into the room, was gone. I had not heard her leave, nuns floated away, never walked.
I stood in the doorway, my pathetic overnight case in front of me as both my hands grasped the handle. I suddenly felt very small, and embarrassed by my jeans, sandals and peasant blouse.
The sister who was strumming the guitar was the first to look up, the rest followed. Several rushing up, one taking my suitcase another helping me to take off my Sandals. Another handed me a glass of milk, as if I were five years old. I detested milk, but took a sip so as not to be rude.
The Sister in the corner who had been strumming the guitar was also called Sister Carol. It seems that my Sister Carol had left years before. I somehow resented this nun taking her name, but soon found her to be every bit as wonderful. She put her arms around me, hugging me close, leading me to the ottoman where her music was. She took the pages carefully placing them on the tiny bare space not covered by books and papers on the bookshelf directly behind her. She then reached behind her chair and pulled out another guitar, identical to the one she had.
That is where I learned to play it. She and I laughed and tortured the others for an hour or so before I was led to my sleeping quarters.
A cell as they called it.
Decorated, not.
It had a single bed, no headboard, a white chenille bedspread, my favorite to date, a small bureau and a crucifix over the bed. A small window offered the only light in the room, and it was so high, I could not see out. There was an oil lamp on the bureau. I fidgeted with it, looking around for something to light it.
The door opened, and the new Sister Carol peeked in.
“Do you have everything you want?”
“Yes, thank you” I had nothing. But I had everything. I omitted asking for light, it was obviously their bedtime, though it was only 8:00 pm.
That night, and the next morning, preparing breakfast in the huge industrial kitchen and enjoying a meal in silence, followed by vespers were magical.
But this would not be my calling...
To be continued

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Before the Fall

Page 44
Before the Fall…

Entering the Convent

As a young girl, my intention was to enter the convent. My friend Debbie B and I would play "nun". Her mother was the seamstress for the local Dominican convent and she had created miniature versions of these habits, in their entirety, for us to wear. Sometimes on the satanic holiday of Halloween.

This alone should have been a deterrent since it took about a half hour for each of us to be stuffed and sucked into the black linen dresses, complete with choking collars and tress hiders. They were hot and cumbersome, but I truly felt at home.

However, one day, as we were walking two by two in the courtyard of St. Mary's grade school, a sinking feeling passed through me. I was not going to be a nun. At that moment I felt nothing but empty, and then fearful. I knew I would go to hell if I did not enter the convent. I knew I would probably lead a decadent life and forever be cast in the fires of hell, never to see the beautiful clouds and angels preached about on the pulpit by Father Deleke and Monsignor Alstad.

I tried for years to put that out of my mind. I even had a stay at the convent when I was 16.
As a young girl of eight, I had taken piano lessons from Sister Carol. I adored Sister Carol, and as many young girls do, I idealized her. I dreamt of her and when at school, I could think of no one but her.

Every Tuesday and Thursday, I would go to the front door of the blond brick building, the door a wooden framed structure with the "craft" touches.

The room where the piano sat was behind that door. No foyer.

Sister Carol was patient, and loving, and very funny. And I refused to improve on the piano. My mother was aghast when she heard me. She had often walked in while I practiced in the basement of St. Mary's and commented on how well I did. Yet when she came to retrieve me from these twice-weekly lessons, it was as if another child were playing.

You see, if I improved, I would be advanced and Sister Carol would no longer be my teacher. It didn't take long for my mother to pull me out.
Sister Carol was the most day-to-day love I had felt until my baby sister was born.

My father eventually bought a Hammond organ, coming with free organ lessons.

I took these lessons from one of Hammond’s salespeople. At first site, most parents would never have left a young girl with this gentleman. He was tall, lanky with greasy hair and long, unmanly languid fingers. But he was harmless enough, and I bore no romantic interest. Consequently, I learned quickly, teaching my father and soon the sound of Ebb Tide and Claire de Lune filled the air of our house 38th avenue.

Yet the wonderful patience and love that I felt from Sister Carol stuck with me, as did other women in habits, Sister Vera, and later, Sister John Mary from St. Marks. I loved all of them and they became my role models.
I put the thought that haunted me as a young girl out of my mind.

When I was 16, I entered the doors of the same convent where I had tortured Sister Carol so many years before. This time, not through the visitor/student door as a child of eight, but the doors where only the “sisters” entered. I was to spend a weekend there; a social worker had arranged the visit.
The door shut behind. There I stood,

acacacacacac To be continued...cacacacacacaac

Music Sinnead Oconnor/I don't know how to love him

©   This material is the copyright Dianne Schuch Lindsey and cannot be duplicated in any fashion without the express permission of the Author.    All rights reserved

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Anna's Got her gun

Page 43

All is finished

"Tout es fini" 

All the things in your life can be defined in one single moment.
And most likely, you won’t particularly like that moment.

The night had already presented itself to be long since I was not with the one I loved.  It helped not that I had made the call to my love and found distress and a probability that none of our lives would be as they were.

After a tangle with a gas pump, where an explosion certainly looked impending, followed by a brush with the law and a police officer brought to his knees by a woman’s tears, all that was left was the confrontation I could have avoided, but flew into headlong.

I walked down the hallway, seeming like a 10-foot corridor, my legs feeling the weight of cement enclosing, as I tried to make my way to the back of the house.  In fact; it was a small walk of only a few feet. Anna’s elderly dog, Bo was walking with as much anticipation as I. My hand pressed against his back as I pet him.
The house was so still, you would have thought it was empty, but the slow emergence of the barrel of a gun proved me wrong.

Anna followed the weapon and things started to move quickly. Anna had reached a fork in the road, and she was going to use that fork on me.

“Welcome home Dianne” Anna raised the gun level with my eyes “Or should I say, welcome to anything BUT your home”

I was paralyzed as I watched Debra reach for Anna’s hand.

My brother, who had been a police officer in Kenosha Wisconsin in the 70’s told me that if a woman had a gun, and it was loaded and aimed, the likelihood of that gun being used had a higher percentage than not.

“Anna, where did you get the gun?” I have no idea why that was my first question, or first remark of any kind.
“Dianne, I told you not to come home” Anna snatched her wrist away from Debra, Debra chose to back off.
“You what?” This only provoked more anger from Anna. “You two have spoken? Debra, did I not tell you if you spoke to her again I would kill you both?”
“Anna, I can only say I am sorry, the words sound shallow, and I am guilty,” Though we had not discussed her need to have a weapon, I doubt if she had a gun on me for not taking out the trash.
“Sorry?” she took her left hand and steadied it over the right holding the gun in perfect aim.

All I could think of was where and when did she buy a gun?  Does she know how to use it?  Why didn’t anyone mention this to me?  She often talked of wanting to learn how to use a gun, but wanting to do something and knowing how are two different things. And at that time restraint was not a word in Anna’s vocabulary.  I had faith that she wouldn’t use this, at least not with the kids around (or were they?). But as Bartok Kinski said, "A casual stroll through the lunatic asylum shows that faith does not prove anything."

"What exactly are you sorry for?” Anna continued, gun still cocked, in spite of its apparent weight. “For ruining my life?  Your kid’s life? Don’t get me wrong, sleeping with a woman is of no consequence, as a matter of fact, it is the only good decision you made.  But having to bury their mother for cheating will certainly change their outlook on life”

And on that she turned and went in the bedroom. She probably forgot the bullets. Debra caught my eye. She had a look of both terror and defeat. It would be futile for me to say anything. And based on the recent events, best to say nothing. I was shaking uncontrollably.

Anna appeared in the doorway of the bedroom, her hand devoid of a gun, replaced with the phone.

“Here, you need to make a phone call; you’re going to need a pl
ace to stay”
“So…you’re not going to shoot me?” As stupid as that sounded, I was looking forward to a bullet in my head.

Far more comfortable than what my husband, his family, my family were going to do.

I took the phone from her and put it down. I had a million questions, and I needed them answered. The most apparent, the question I couldn’t ask is what Debra was going to do now.  Would we have our life together?   As one-dimensional as that sounds, I was afraid of loosing what I had with her. It had changed, and now Anna knew.  Most certainly Anna was not going to want to stay with her.  But on that account I was so incorrect. If for no other reason, she was going to keep Debra out of spite.

Anna sat down at the table and proceeded to relay the story of going to Cynthia and Sabrina’s and them telling her about our indiscretion. Since Cynthia and Sabrina had no other information except the fact that it happened, I was as much to blame as Debra in all the partys eyes.

I wanted to explain to her about how I fought this with my entire being, about Debra’s relentless pursuit, her promises, my fear and ultimate surrender. But I didn’t. I was afraid if I did so, Debra would not want me. Never mind that a husband, religion, my staunch conservative family never impeded this development.

And really, in the end, I still did it.

“You could have anyone you want Dianne, WHY Debra”

She certainly should know back stabbing was not approved of in my family, but it was rewarded.  I sat in my uncomfortable kitchen chair, oblivious to the fact one leg was creaking and could probably be kicked out beneath me. “You know, my brother is a fuck up. I could give a shit about him, but Debra? C’mon Dianne, she is the furthest person I would have expected you to be with, whether I was with her or not.”

She picked up the receiver to the phone, and again, handed it to me.

And now the fun starts

I dialed the phone to my house in Champions. I was grateful Anna gave me this option instead of taking it upon herself.

“Jackie” I was sobbing “Jackie, I need to tell you something…”

acacacacacacTo be continued...cacacacacacaac
Updates every Wednesday and Friday.

Music: Alexandra Roos Tout es Fini (All is finished
Artwork: Mandala Linework/Dover, Artistic application: Dianne Lindsey

©   This material is the copyright Dianne Schuch Lindsey and cannot be duplicated in any fashion without the express permission of the Author.    All rights reserved

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Oh my God, What have we done?

Page 42
This on-line novel is based on actual events.
Some of the names have been changed to protect the idiots who think someone actually gives a shit.

Anna's losses
Part 1 Finale

“Mam, please, drive carefully” and he left. I have tried that since, it doesn’t work when it’s not genuine.

I no longer recognized myself. Just 3 months ago, I was an innocent. My proclivities were strictly heterosexual. None of this was my idea. And to this day, I do not know if I would have headed down this road. Had she not initiated this, would I be gay? If she would not have, I may never have experienced love, for me, love.

I peeled out of there and reached that 90 mph in record pace. Almost 2 hours had gone by. The Sheriff Department vehicle didn't move.

When I think of Anna, knowing I will never be able to speak to her or see her again, I am reminded of this night and all the choices we had. And the choices we made.

I turned into the feeder at Uvalde Street, up to the front door of the house. It was quiet. I covered the door handle with both my hands so I could open it slowly, without sound, the screen door up against my back as I crept in. Then the click of the aluminum door. “Oh fuck”

But no one was there. This could be a good thing, or a bad, maybe everyone is dead. I heard rustling as Bo, Anna’s dog crept up, head lowered as if he did something wrong. He nudged my hand to be petted. Very unusual, I realized he had not barked. I patted his back as I inched toward the kitchen.

I saw a shadow, moving and it wasn’t the Bo's.
It wasn’t Debra.
I could see a small metal or iron maybe? tube come around the corner. As the impliment came closer into view I could see the tube attached to a bullet chamber and hand holding it.

I froze, oh my God, what have we done.
acacacacacacTo be continued...cacacacacacaac

Monday, September 19, 2011


Page 41

Why didn’t I say something to him?

I wasn’t thinking clearly. I finally found my keys and deliberately, gradually turned the truck engine so as not to create a spark. I could see he was finished with his cigarette, putting the ember out against his poor abused car. And then he tossed it into the trashcan next to the gas nozzle. My truck engine started and I sped out of there. A service attendant had pulled over a hose and started spraying everything down. It wasn’t too late. The potential unintentional arson never occurred.

I was going about 90 mph, I had the radar detector on. But once you are reaching that breakneck speed with no traffic, it is hard to slow down in time to escape a visit from our famous Smokey Pokey sheriff's department. And as expected, my mirror filled up with a flurry of red and blue lights strobeing to the sound of my heartbeat.

I was crying ... sobbing.

Hiccup, hiccup,

I saw the officer approaching and for one minute I thought of getting out of the car holding a writing pen like a gun. Maybe he can end this right now and put quite a few people out of their misery.
I stayed put.
“License and registration”

I reached into the glove compartment finding Debra’s registration neatly filed against an owner's manual and a box of tissue. Then searched my purse, with hands trembling, took out my Texas ID. I have $20 left. That should do it, I'll try to bribe him. he'll haul my ass in and I would have a place to stay for the night. And my guests will not require intellectual rhetoric. I handed the documents shaking and crying to the kind gentleman. I put the $20 in my purse. I might need it for bail.

“Mam, you were going over 60.” He continued while using his flashlight to find the 10 pounds of pot and a brick of cocaine, which he was certain I must have. “Can you tell me why?”

Now there’s something interesting. Why would he care WHY? He had a job

... and I was certain he was going to do it.

I placated his curiosity. With my chest heaving and makeup running, I told him in a very quick and almost incomprehensible voice about Anna and Debra and my kids, and my husband, and my company…ending with
... and when I was two…

He became flustered, riffling through his bag of tricks, pulling out a piece of Kleenex. It looked a bit used, and the mist added to the appearance. I wanted him to arrest me, throw me in jail. Tie me up to a car battery and use a screwdriver to tap on my fillings.

“Mam, please, drive carefully” and he left. I have tried that since, it doesn’t work when it’s not genuine.

I no longer recognized myself. Just 3 months ago, I was an innocent. My proclivities were strictly heterosexual. None of this was my idea. And to this day, I do not know if I would have headed down this road. Had she not initiated this, would I be gay? If she would not have, I may never have experienced love, for me, love.

I peeled out of there and reached that 90 mph in record pace. Almost 2 hours had gone by. The Sheriff Department vehicle didn't move.

To be continued

Sunday, September 18, 2011

The little things you planned

 Won't be coming true
Page 40

Standing next to the public restroom, I placed the receiver of the phone, still warm, my handprint clear to the naked eye.

“Dianne, don’t come home" Her voice, low and controlled. I could hear Anna in the background.
Her words unclear.
Her mood, clear.
That sound, those words. I was dead...all that is needed are funeral arrangements. There comes a moment when you know that you just aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of your life.

Anything and everything that could happen, did. The ride home/Debra and Anna’s was eventful unto itself.

It had been raining, but it was slowing to a mist, the night air was like a sauna, and the smog was delivering a nasty coat of slim over the ground and my body.

I tried to convince myself it wasn’t what I thought.

It was probably Debra and Anna arguing about Dian.

Perhaps Debra did not want me to see it.

Or maybe Jackie was there, she might have been afraid for me.

But Debra loved her truck and it would take a lot for her to allow it out of her sight for very long. Maybe she told Anna.

We had discussed this and concluded that we would do this AFTER she and Anna were separated, within a comfortable amount of time.
Once again, who the hell was I trying to fool?
I climbed into Debra’s truck, sobering up considerably. In every circumstance where alchohol was involved, I would never have driven. I was not drunk, but probably over the limit. The adrenaline pumped out by my fear, helped. The last time I felt this fearful was when I saw chocolate rain the first (second, third and 10th) time.

Nothing was going to deter me now…

I started heading down highway 59 to see what fate awaits me. The gas gauge was clearly on empty. I switched it to the second tank. Empty. It's night, it’s raining, I was in a bad neighborhood and I felt like I could just fall in a hole and die. THAT would have been comfortable. I soon found a gas station.

I pulled in to the huge shopping storefront Exxon. I loved this store, they had such fun things. Every time we would stop, I needed to go in. And this time was no different. Except, I was not going in to shop. I needed to find a phone. I put the gas nozzle into the tank, pushing the gas cap into the nozzle handle to keep it from stopping once I let go. I grabbed my purse and headed in to the store. The inside of the store was bright, almost like daylight. Insultingly bright. I quickly made my way to the back where there must certainly be phones. I brushed past the t-shirts and shorts, scurrying past the music boxes and dollar chocolate roses and alas, a phone. We didn’t have cell phone abilities back then, August of 1986. If we did, Debra could have called ME and given me updates. It is probably a good idea for me NOT to call. But I did. Artificial intelligence is no match for human stupidity.

I could hear Anna shouting for her to “hang up on that bitch” and she did, and the answer to WhoWhatWhyWhere was perfectly clear. As I hung up the phone, I could still hear shouting. I picked up the receiver,expecting to find maybe I didn’t hang it up. Dial tone.

“Where is that lady?” Shouting from the front. It was late and I was the only woman I had seen. I ran around the corner almost slipping on moisture accumulated from the many customers coming to pay their charge and running out of the rain.
“Lady, your gas was spilling ALL OVER the place”

Shit, I forgot. I hope I have enough for the gas. It was a hefty $1.10 a gallon. I had enough. I went outside and the truck stood there with the gas tank cap out, gasoline spilled down the sides and on to the ground. I grabbed some paper towels dispensed on the side of the gas reservoirs, and hastily cleaned the gas on the side of the vehicle, dripping it down my arms and onto my Joan and David snakeskin t-straps.

Another car came to a halt behind me. I caught a quick glance, didn’t know him, but he had a cigarette, and was pushing out the car door as I climbed in mine. I grappled through my purse, where the fuck did I put those keys? The guy leaned up against the side of his car, finishing up the smoke.
Why didn’t I say something to him?
To be continued

Saturday, September 17, 2011

It's not the way that I wanted

It's just the way that I need it
Page 39

“What the fuck, Dianne, why does it have to be this way?"
“Well Anna, it goes this way"; I wiped the tomato seeds off my chin “If you know someone’s nature, why do you expect anything different?" 
Yes Dianne, I thought, why do you expect anything different?
I went on to work through the issues that were Dian to begin with. She has made a habit of breaking Anna’s heart. Yes it was shitty she summoned Anna, but if Anna had known, wouldn’t she have gone any way?  She agreed. Then went on to say she and Debra had stopped making love. They did not talk as much, Debra was pre-occupied. I tried not to register guilt, but Anna wouldn’t have noticed it anyhow.
Over the next few days, Debra and I had our stolen moments. We did what ever we could for money including delivering phone books. I could not believe I had lowered my standards so drastically. I would be starting up with the “arts"; soon, but it is a prerequisite to be broke, gay and pompous if you were to be part of that industry.
I made plans to meet a client of mine from Property Management Systems (PMS). She was also a neighbor of mine from Memorial Chase in Spring.
We met at a club on Richmond and 610 near the Galleria, Houstons Hallmark shopping mall.
I was both anxious and excited. I was going to tell someone, and experience the shock and awe.
Eileen was waiting for me at the bar, she came to the door as I came in and handed me a dirty kettle martini ,
kettle my favorite. We made our way to the chairs adjacent to the dance floor. Eileen reached into her briefcase and pulled out a file. She was going to offer me the opportunity to bid on a project. I reached over and stopped her, telling her to put it back in the briefcase.
“Dianne, this is a flush project and you have it in the bag.” She put her briefcase under her seat. “I just discussed you at today’s meeting and we came to the conclusion that the familiarity of your product was a safe bet."; she continued, “Bidding is strictly a formality, but the job is really yours.
She was correct. Every project she guaranteed had come through to date.
“Eileen, I have sold the company"; I asked the waiter for another martini, requesting a double. It would most certainly be almost undrinkable. “Jackie and I are no longer together";
Eileen gingerly sat her glass down cupping the bottom loosely.
“Dianne, what is it";
“I am having an affair";
Eileen smiled. She and I had several late night's of drink ending with her going off with someone and me going home. She was hungry for the details and I gave them to her.
She registered the prerequisite shock and I secretly enjoyed the unconventional situation I presented to her. She asked about the details and I laid them out in explicit details. She did not note disapproval, but she presented all the issues I was up against. I had been deeply engrossed in this new life and being away in this “straight nightclub felt like I had traveled to another country and now I was back home. Just as most exciting adventures, I wanted to be back in the journey from where I had come
The night ended early.
Debra had dissapproved of this engagement, but she and Anna had been invited to Cynthia and Sabrina’s. I was not included. The invitation was explicit and Debra as well as I knew she had to allay a potential exposure.
I had a few drinks, I felt sure footed.
Debra had let me drive her Sierra, highly unusual; she loved that truck and very seldom let it out of her sight. I still called Debra to tell her I was on my way home, so she could watch for me.
“Dianne, don’t come home" Her voice, low and controlled. I could here Anna in the background. Her words unclear, her mood, clear.
I started shaking uncontrollably. There it was.
“What Debra, please WHAT";
“Just. Don’t. Come. Home." She sounded very frightened.

One lie tells the greatest story ever told

Friday, September 16, 2011

Voices Carry

Hush Hush, Keep It Down Now...
page 38

I stood at the window watching the guests poolside, and watching Debra anxiously talk to someone on the phone. Anna of course being the someone.

I resigned myself to the awful truth. Debra acheived her goal. She knew she had me, and she knew with enough effort, she could have both me and Anna. I knew the best option would be to return to my home, my marriage. I could not do that any more than a dingo could sweetly lick a baby.

Our lies were the worst issue. How would we fare together with such a dreadful beginning?

I fell back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, my legs and arms spread out to cover the whole bed. I laid there, defeated in my solitude. I had no control, Debra had it all.

Her family already knew, they said little about it. I wasn't fooling myself when it came to my family, that would be the worst. Lee and Jack second, Jackie was going to be crazy, but he had created a mind set with me that released me from guilt. That is wrong in my mind today, no matter what he did, it did not warrant this extreme.

I am going to loose everything, and Debra would lose nothing, unless of course, I left. She would lose me. Would she care? She cried when it came to focus. She used all her lesbian wiles to convince me we were going to be ok.

So, then, why is she not in the room.
A key swiped in the door and it creaked open. I didn’t turn to look at her.
“Sorry, I just had to call Anna so she won’t be suspicious";
“Suspicious of what"; I did not turn to look at her, those patterned dots on the ceiling needed counting

“Well, we aren’t at home, and she would want to know where we are"; She continued, “I know how this looks to you, but when this comes to the surface, we need to make certain she has no inkling of what we have been doing";

She went in to take a shower; I took off my cloths and crawled under the covers, fading off to sleep.

A body pressing into my back brought me out of dream state. She pulled me to her nestling her head into my neck.

Smoothing my hair so as not to pull it then softly placing it behind my ear she whispered goodnight. We didn’t make love, and that was probably best. There is as much comfort and love in the closeness, sometimes more.
I truly and completely, unconditionally love Debra. Something happens, they call it libido, but who are "they". Libido is a crude word for something so spiritually hypnotic. Anyone that has experienced close to this knows how it is impossible to abandon. There is no possible way in this world I could ever be without her.

The promise of an eternity in the arms of a love so full there was little room for anything else. I believed what she said and even seeing the ridiculous in the writing, I felt she made sense. If Anna went with someone else, we could glide into this with at least one advocate.

The hardest part of this new love affair was the inability to share it with someone. Yes, Nanook knew, but she was running a parallel gamut with some cop in New York, my situation was not as titillating to her since the birthday gift episode.

I told my brother in California, he was very sweet and up beat saying he worked with many Lesbians and they are wonderful. I don’t know what exactly he meant by that, but I appreciated the gesture. Oh, and he needed $30, could I send it to him. I was beyond broke, and Debra was not going to give me money for him. She really did not like my family, as did Anna. I figured I would find it somewhere.

Anna returned from Dian’s. After what Anna called, an overwhelming reunion, Dian had called her to her side to tell her of a new love in her life. Now that was fucking sad. Not for me, but for her.

She came home dismayed and depressed. I felt even worse about Debra and me.

Things are going to have to change. We could not keep this under wraps for long…and as fate played out, I wouldn’t need to concern myself with this for long.

Debra and I went to a friend of theirs, Sabrina, to drop off something and while Sabrina was in another room, Debra reached over and kissed me. Sabrina came in the room and dropped what was in her hands.

acacacacacacTo be ontinued...cacacacacacaac


Till Tuesday/Voice

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Dian vs Dianne

Anna doesn't get the girl, Debra gets them both.
Page 37

 So there it was, we were so utterly irrevocably busted. 

“What the fuck?"; Sabrina slowly sat down.

Debra explained things, as if they could be explained. Sabrina asked about Anna, knowing full well she could not have known. She insisted either we needed to stop, or Anna needed to be told. Cynthia, who had also been a love interest of Debra’s was even more convinced this was wrong and needed to end. She didn’t care who knew, who found out, or why. She did not want Debra and me to be together, and she would make anything happen to stop it. Till then I thought no one outside of the familial circle would care. If you think nobody cares, try missing a couple of payments.

We all started arguing in tandem after all, Anger is a lot more fun when it’s shared. I tried to placate everyone, I made a joke “Well, if this doesn’t work out I can always move in with you two"; Not so funny, I think Debra was more pissed at me for that statement than the catastophe so apparent. Debra begged them to not tell Anna. I could not understand WHY they would, but then I was having an affair with my husband's sister's lover. So I wasn't the "go to" person on morality issues.

The days following this discovery things became edgy and everyone seemed to be distracted.

Anna became very needy with Debra. But, one of the ONLY things that didn’t happen; they weren’t making love.

One July morrning, I sat at the kitchen table reading the paper. Anna came in and stood in front of the refrigerator staring blankly.

“You can look at the menu, but you just can’t eat";

She reached in a gathered up the makings for a sandwich.

“Is there nothing good to eat?" I asked. 

“I was talking about my life"; Anna reached into the drawer and took out a knife.

I silently reminded myself to hide those.

“What is it Anna"; did I REALLY want to know? But I asked.

“Well, Dian and I made love, and then she gave me the news"; she spread the mayo on wheat bread piled up with several colors of lunch meat and added the frilly, lacy lettuce I had purchased from a local flagship store. I got up and sliced some crimson onions, sweet and tart. I made myself a sandwich; I should have just rubbed it directly on my thighs because that is exactly where it was going to end up if I chose to eat it, which, lately, has been difficult. But I wanted to create a feeling of camaraderie with Anna.

She pushed the papers to the floor, unusual for her to create a mess, but she was resigned, and I as well.

“What the fuck, Dianne, why does it have to be this way?"

acacacacacacTo be continued...cacacacacacaac

Howard Jones/No one is to Blame

Two are better than one.

Page 36

I slept with my back against Debra, as she enfolded me in her arms. We stayed that way all night, and that was how we slept when we were in each other’s company.

At 8am the following morning I woke up to the bed empty. I could here the children watching TV, laughing and snapping at each other. I could smell bacon and eggs cooking. I compelled my body to rise. Grabbing a shirt, I opened the bedroom door expecting to see Debra at the stove, but she was no where to be found. I crept down the hallway, not wanting to distract the children, as I had no idea what they knew, or felt, about the sleeping arrangements. I figured

Debra was in the family room watching cartoons with them. And enjoying them as much as they did. More.

But Debra was absent from that part of the house as well. I passed by the children quietly to see if her truck was outside. It was. I peeked outside, it was stifling and the air was thick from the precipitation, she wouldn't have been out there for long, it would have messed with her hair. And as expected she was not outsider.

I turned back to the children who were staring at me quizzically.
“Debra is back in her dad’s lawnmower shop” Trey said and turned his attention to the more important matters of who
Ren and Stimpy were going to overthrow today.

I had been awake and up for almost 15 minutes now.

Walking down the hallway, I could smell something burning on the stove and quickened my pace. The bacon was burning, and the room was rapidly filling up with smoke. I grabbed the pan, and dropped it to the floor with bacon grease flying. I screamed. The kids came running to my aid. After sending them back to their show ,I immediately cleaned up the mess, attended to the blisters. Curiosity was turning to anger, where the fuck was she? If she was back in the shop she should have heard me and come running to my cries.

I stormed to the back of the house. I could see the back to a chair was moving, a phone cord dangling with the phone obviously off the hook. As I approached I could see her feet propped up on a box. I inched toward her, not wanting to break the momentum of her conversation.

“When are you going to get your happy ass home?” she rasped, an angry whisper. She then turned the chair and there I stood. She had her head down, in her hand, but her eyes peeked up at me .
“Good morning” said with a cheerful, teasing voice. “I’m going to go, Dianne just got up and we may be taking the kids out.”
She had to be talking to either her parents or Anna. Who else would care?

And then she handed me the phone, which I reluctantly accepted. Of course I knew by then who it was.
“Hi Dadita” Anna sounded very jovial “Is everything ok there?”
“Yes” I sat on the desk adjacent to Debra, everything I owned in full view since my legs were propped up on the chair.
“Did your drive go okay? We had terrible weather here and I was concerned.” I wasn’t lying.
“It was rough, but I am here and that’s all that matters.” she continued, “Debra isn’t doing very well, I’m sorry to have left that mess behind for you …”
“That’s okay” I interrupted. “She’ll be fine, we will keep her busy” Meaning the children and I.
“I need to go Di, I have been on this phone for over an hour.”

An hour. AN HOUR!!!!

We said our goodbyes, my eyes never left Debra’s.

I hung up the phone and turned to go back in the kitchen.

“I heard some screaming, was that you” Debra said condescendingly. As if she cared.
I said nothing. I went to the bathroom and rummaged around for some antisceptic to put on my wounds, finally finding some in an overnite bag of Anna’s. I soothed the burns and headed toward the bedroom. Debra followed like a puppy, explaining, which I didn’t hear one word of, then trying to intervene in the medical department, I shooed her hands away.
When I went to the bedroom, I stripped off my shirt intending to take a shower. Debra pulled me to her from behind, holding me tightly, she ran her hand down my arm, to my hip and around. I grabbed her hand and twisted it as I turned, shocking the shit out of her. I let go, went to the bathroom, slamming and locking the door. She knocked, then pounded, then the kids intervened, curious more than anything.
I could here the “mother” voice Debra took when taking control of them. I could only hear rumblings, the shower cancelled out any decipherable sound.

The shower felt wonderful after the arduous night. I stayed longer than necessary, reviewing the fortnight and morning's exploits. This was a mess. But it was painful more than anything. I knew the best thing I could do was to divorce myself from this mess and return to my husband. How does one do that when they are in love? Crazy in the love, manically obsessed. Now I was the one out of control, thinking only of the here and now.

I had 2 months of being treated like a princess, being loved and conjoled at every turn. She built me up too high and would not give me a ladder to come down. That was only going to happen by my falling on my face. Debra had me soaring far too high to be able to do that without certain damage.

What kind of idiot stays with someone after they have been confronted with the obvious? I was losing everything, Debra was gaining a harem. Never have I let a man do this to me, and many of them have the scars and surgeries to prove it. Once they lost my confidence in their love, I was out the door and into the new. And when the old confronted this new, the shit hit the fan and all I did was stand back and watch the fireworks. The winner, (or looser, depending on how you look at it) knew I was not to be trifled with and never tried it again. Either you want me, and ONLY me, or the deal is off.
So Debra had balls, I gotta say that for her. More than any man I had been with. And I helped prove her bravado by staying. So I decided I was not going to do it. From the beginning, every hunch I have had with this woman has played out.

I stepped out of the tub, quickly toweled myself off and grabbed Anna’s blue robe to make passage to my clothing.
The house was uncomfortably quiet. I threw my towel back into the bathroom, leaving it on the floor for her majesty to claim, and searched the house. No one home. I sat on the bed and picked through cable channels, totally uninterested, but it killed time. I should be packing up my stuff, but I was in no mood for one of Debra’s hysterics. I would do that tonite and sneak out the door. I didn’t have a car, but no doubt, once I called Jackie, he would pick us up.
Music: OMD/Forever Live and Di (why do you want to make me cry)
To be continued

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Say Nothing.

Page 35
Sometimes Less is more…

“Anna left to go see Dian”

I said nothing.

Debra knelt down next to the tub. She took off her rings and put them on the counter next to the sink, then turned to me, taking the soap and lathering the bath sponge I had on the ledge.

She silently, slowly ran the sponge over my back. She took a plastic cup that we kept with razors, grooming tools and the like, emptied the contents.

“Put your head back”
I tilted my head as I was told. My eyes were filled with tears until I was sobbing. Debra took the water and poured it over my head, then took the shampoo filling her hand. She ran her fingers through my hair pulling it to a pile atop my head and massaged the liquid, warm and soothing through my scalp. She bathed me like a child.

I said nothing

“She left for Austin” Debra started the water, filling the cup and pouring it over my head, as I stared at the ceiling.

My eyes caught hers and I could see her pain. But I had no empathy. I was not certain where it came from, that pain, but it really didn’t matter. She had left me to agonize over the last two hours. What she needed or wanted were of no concern to me. And she knew it.

Yet… I said nothing.

She pulled me up, turned me to the wall as she resumed. She ran the sponge down the small of my back, moving to the inside of my legs. She stood up before I could turn around wrapping her right arm around my waist, her laeft hand pulling my back tight against her chest. She gently kissed me on the neck. I tried to reject her maneuvers, unsuccessfully. And she knew, she could do or say anything she wished. It was her party, I was the guest.

“I am sorry, I know this was not how I expected to feel” she whispered into my ear and ran her mouth down the side of my face to my shoulder.
I turned with enough force to cause her to fall back against the counter.
“You didn’t know how you expected to feel? “

I reached down, grabbed a towel, she tried to take it from but I snapped it loose from her grip and put it around me, covering up as much as possible.

“Really?” I stormed out of the bathroom, “You have the fucking audacity to say that to me? Do you know what you have done I have done? WE HAVE DONE?”

I was crying so hard, I started to hiccup, much as a young child having a fit of temper.

“I have lost everything; you were the only thing I wanted, nothing else. I gave up everything. For this?” My arm swept through the air pointing out the meager surroundings I now called home.

"You are the only one not affected by this. Your life is no different, ...oh except for the fact that you now have a harem!"

She grabbed my arm, hard enough to leave an indentation. I stared down at her hand, waiting for her to remove it, but she would not.

“Come in the bedroom, I don’t want to wake up Devo.”
“Fine, but just to talk, that’s it” Who the hell was I fooling?

She launched into an hour-long explanation of why she acted the way she did. She did not like Dian and didn’t want Anna to be with her Dian was not the right one for her. Debra and Anna had a history and she wasn’t prepared for such a quick exit. She needed time. More like her frickin ego got tarnished.

And I said nothing.

What insanity had I reached; This woman was a child; Totally uneducated about what a marriage is, what a damn promise; And I had chosen to change my life and lifestyle to be with such a person.

I left the room to go to my own; I grabbed an oversized T-shirt, pulling it over my head, climbed into bed, throwing the covers over my shoulders after turning out the light.

It couldn’t have been a full minute before I was lifted out and slung over her shoulders. She grappled with door handles, shirts getting stuck in the door casings, etc. It was very slapstick, I actually laughed at one point.

Betraying myself.

She dropped me on the bed, quickly closing the door. Her jeans and t-shirt were off in record time, she climbed into bed.

“Debra, what if Anna comes back?” I was still concerned about Anna, I shouldn’t have cared, but I did.
“Fuck her, she’ll get over it!”; Yeah, right ...Anna must have really convinced her she was not coming back any time soon.

The wind howled outside, I became concerned about Anna’s trip, but that soon washed away with the storm and I was once again lost in the hopes and dreams that were Debra.

The lightning washed brightly over Debra’s face as she held me, her arms under my shoulders, I buried myself in her. It always felt safe there; I was free to be the person who was no longer a part or parcel behind social norms and deafening parochial imperatives.

The storm did not let up.

Nor did Debra.

acacacacacacacTo be continued...cacacacacacaac

Moody Blues/Sometimes less is more.
Big Love/Fleetwood Mac