Patchwork People Chapter II The Good Man Hard to Find
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Patchwork People XXIX: When Cows Fly. free porn video
XXIX. When cows fly.
There are no cows outside the window at thirty thousand feet, no oil
drills, no billboards, no fast food chain restaurants either. Nothing but
space, space, and more space. You always expect to see things clearer on
the way back from a journey. I'm not sure if anything is really different
than it was before, but I do see it differently, and maybe that makes all
the difference. We'll just have to wait and see.
I'm not so mad anymore, I guess. That's one thing that's different
already. I have to remember that, though, later on. Because the anger
comes back and you can get mad at things that you've forgotten have
already been resolved.
In the end, I guess the big lesson I learned is that it's not Marcia's
fault, or mom's fault. It's not my fault or even my birth mom's fault.
It's not really anyone's fault. Accidents happen. We're all human. But
even knowing that doesn't heal everything. It's like if you break a leg
very badly. It heals, you can walk on it just fine, but that doesn't
unbreak it. Nothing can do that. Ever. Not even forgiveness.
A few days ago I told Marcia that I stole her ATM card as well as a few
checks from inside her purse. Of course, she knew this already. Still, I
felt the need to come clean about it. I stole checks from the back of the
pad so she wouldn't notice. As for her bank card, it wasn't hard to guess
the password. I got it on the first try. It was my birth date. I made a
mistake with the first check, writing it out for way more than those
roadside check cashing places will handle. I was going to clean out her
account, actually. Because she lied. She had the money, the $19,000.00 I
asked her for and a little more besides. I was so angry. I would have
taken it, too. She lied to me and I felt entitled.
Luckily, though, the ATM card has a $600 dollar-a-day limit. I took out
$600 every day and wrote myself checks against her account for whatever
the limit was at whatever check cashing place I was at. Usually it was
around two thousand. I must have gone through nearly half of her savings
and that's not counting whatever those bums took who stole the card from
me.
We hadn't talked about this on the way home and I wasn't looking forward
to doing so either, as you can well imagine, especially since things had
been going so well. I begged Walt to tell Marcia I was sorry and that I
would pay her back, somehow. But he insisted that I had to be the one.
All of a sudden, he got all fatherly on me. The not-so-fun kind of
fatherly, I mean. He started talking about honor and accountability and
being a stand-up person. Boy, did that piss me off!
He was right, of course, but still--
So I told her. We were loading up the car one morning with platters of
cookies to take to the Blue Cat and I came right out with it. I waited
for the firestorm. I figured up to now that she was just biding her time
until the subject came up. But she just straightened up from where she'd
been bent over putting a tray into the back seat and said that if nine or
ten thousand dollars were the price she had to pay for this last month
together it was a bargain as far as he was concerned.
"But--it was the money you were saving. Saving, you know, for your
transformation. Aren't you mad?"
"My transition, you mean?"
"Yeah."
Marcia shrugged, looked away, and then looked back at me. "I guess you
might say that I did use it for my transition." She smiled. "...and my
transformation, too, now that you mention it."
I didn't know what to say. I couldn't imagine that I'd be forgiven so
easily and so completely for doing something so selfish and awful. I
mean, ten thousand dollars, right?
Then came the really hard part. "And about that stuff on the window I
wrote..."
"Don't even mention it."
"I don't even know why I did it. That was so stupid. I didn't even mean
it..."
"I know. Just forget it."
"I can't."
"I have."
I kind of felt a little bit transformed myself by her forgiving me like
that.
They say people don't really change, but I'm sort of banking on the hope
that "they" are wrong. Mom, for instance. There's someone who doesn't
seem like she'll ever change. But I changed. Marcia sure changed. Walt
changed, from what I hear of his unsavory past. So maybe there's some
hope for mom, too. She doesn't have to become a whole other person or
anything so drastic as that. I'm not expecting miracles. Just a little
change will do. That will be miracle enough. Like I said before, we'll
see. I have my doubts same as always. But now I also have my hopes.
Right now, I'm remembering this one evening sitting on Grace's front
porch. Walt had bicycled over on this crazy tandem he's been rebuilding
for some time now, tinkering with it obsessively, it seemed to me.
Anyway, he called Marcia down to take a little test run because he wanted
to test some adjustments he'd made. It was apparently the umpteenth time
he'd asked her to do this.
She was kind of reluctant. I guess she felt a little silly but she
climbed onto the seat behind Walt and put her arms around his waist and
he pushed off from the curb and went up and down the block a couple of
times. It was a cool night, a hint of fall in the air, and a few stars
already were out.
"Don't they look swell together," Grace said, sitting beside me.
I didn't say anything. To be honest, Marcia looked really embarrassed.
She had her face buried in the back of Walt's shoulder. But after a
while, she seemed to forget about what she might look like, who might be
watching, and what they might think. She lifted her face to the sky. She
seemed to be getting into the spirit of it, pedaling in sync with Walt,
her hair flying out behind her, her face breaking out into a big grin.
They looked like one of those fabulous mythical creatures you read about,
like unicorns or griffins, that run free in a world of their own. Not
that I felt excluded or abandoned or anything. I just felt a kind of joy
that such magic was possible in real life. That I was part of it,
somehow. It was the first time I could allow myself to admit it: Marcia
really was a beautiful woman.
I hope she marries Walt. I really do. They'll be so good for each other.
They'll be so happy together, I can just tell. Here's something else I
can admit for the first time: she deserves it.
So now there are tears running down my face and I have to stop writing so
I can wipe them away before the guy sitting next to me sees them and
wonders what's wrong. Nothing is wrong. Just the opposite. Everything is
right. But that's not quite it either. How can I explain why I'm crying?
I don't even know myself. It's an emotion that you can only share with
the clouds and the sky that go on forever and ever.
Only heaven itself is big enough to contain it.
But just barely.
* * * *
Author note: I plan to publish "Patchwork People" in its entirety in
weekly installments here on Fictionmania. In the meantime, the complete
novel is currently available as an Amazon Kindle ebook for $2.99.
For more of my writings, drawings, erotica, and photos please visit my
blog Bad Pussy
sissyforlife(dot)blogspot(dot)com.
Maddy
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