I have a confession to make…




Yesterday I
did what any great writer would do… I painted my master bathroom.


Now why
would I do such a thing? First of all, it needed it. Second of all, I needed to
walk away from my head and do something physical to clear my brain. I needed to
get out of the ethos and accomplish something tangible. Too many hours spent in
hot pursuit of dead men sometimes leaves me with little to show at the end of
my day… even though I have toiled long and hard.

I have a
confession to make. While going through the bins yesterday and finding the
white envelope; I also found a photo of Charley and Hazel together in their
younger years and even though I placed it right next to his 8×10… it looked
foreign on my desk. I know they are together and I know that whatever ailed
them in the flesh has been forgiven and replaced with compassionate understanding…
it just felt awkward and intrusive. So, after leaving it there overnight and
trying to adjust… I gave up the ghost- no pun intended- and put it away.

I know that seems odd, but for so long now
his has been the only silhouette upon my desk, his face the constant in my
peripheral vision and his heart my best companion. It was as if I could not
hear his voice with her in the room and being of single purpose as I write- the
distraction was palpable. I’m sorry Hazel. I cherish you both, but right now as
I am in the stretch of this book, I must be able to continue without break in thought
or tear in umbilical.

I try to see
behind the gray eyes. Is he angry that I have removed her, or does he
understand that I can serve but one god at a time?  It is difficult, this thing that I do; difficult
to walk with the dead and try to intuit their wishes. I am not R. I cannot see
as she sees- or carry on anything but one sided conversations. Well, to be truthful-
I have seen Charley twice, but because it is such a rare occurrence… I falter
and scream at his introduction. Not very welcoming, is it?

No wonder the poor
man keeps to himself. Still, I talk to the 8×10 on my desk the same way I did
when this all began and somehow I believe he still listens. So, in the interest of
keeping this conversation going…

I need a
favor Charley.

I need you
to find me your State Farm Insurance agent. Dead or alive… it does not matter.
I have questions! His card was in the room with the MOT, Grim and the pipe
smoker and I want to know why?

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