Author: David Ferland

It’s a Marvelous Night for a Moondance

/ David Ferland / Leave a comment

“Remember that time Benny was on crutches and had to hide in the bushes from the cops.  He couldn’t run.  He just kind of toppled himself into these shrubs…”

JJ, Carl, and their old friend Stevie D sat by the fire on JJ’s farm.  The farm-warming party was winding down.  The full moon was up and it was a big ol’ autumn moon to behold.  Some Euro hipster (Pierre?  Sven?) was playing guitar for a few of the ladies and Lila was eating it up, of course.  Carl’s wife was over there, too.  Their group sat apart, away from the fire because, according to Lila, the fire spoiled the moonlight.  The Euro started singing a familiar melody in French, “it’s a marvelous night for a moondance”.  All the girls laughed.  JJ wanted to find a rock that fit his palm and just club this guy, with his wispy beard and European ease, just club him into the ground.

Carl said, “And then we circle back and that sorry bastard is crutching down the road at two in the morning.  He was so pissed off!”  Carl and Stevie D laughed.  JJ managed a thin smile.

When JJ thought back to the old hijnks he didn’t feel the hilarity anymore.  He felt like he was entering a swamp, a wet sucking at his feet making it hard to move and releasing a reek of regret.  The capers, the pranks.  It was all fun, of course.  But it was tangled with the old feelings of being doomed and baffled.  Drunken escapades into the suburbs to drive on lawns and party on golf courses and beaches.  The cops came and you fled to another spot.  Always another spot and more cat and mouse.  JJ felt like he played cat and mouse his whole life with sadness and regret.  He would plug the hole for awhile with a girlfriend or city, then it would start oozing again.  He looked at Lila.  A surge of … warmth?  Longing for sure.  Caring, yes.  Then came the ooze of sadness and regret, the old resentments.

Carl leaned over and said into JJ’s ear, “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Wallowing.”

“Whadaya mean?”

“Move forward.  Fuck the past.”

“I’m just…I think it’s time for bed.”

“Stay with me, man.  Right here, right now.”

Stevie D shambled off to find something to drink and JJ and Carl sat looking into the fire.  They listened to the singing and the laughing but JJ did not look over.  The Euro sang, “Je ne peux pas avoir juste une danse avec toi mon amour?”

“I seriously want to crush that guy’s skull,” Carl said.  He reached down and picked up a rock that fit his palm.  “This look about right?”

“Yeah,” JJ said.  “Perfect.”  He smiled, a real smile.  “I’ll get the shovel.”

“It’s not that kind of farm.”

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“There were a whole bunch of US Government cars at that house down the street yesterday.  They were having a picnic,” JJ said. 

            “I’d be worried,” Carl said.  “You move in and the Feds are here in force?  There are no coincidences with the Feds.”

            “Seriously, they were playing horseshoes and Wiffle Ball.”

            “Some kind of team building thing.  Probably telling Canada jokes.”

            “Do you know any Canada jokes?”

            Carl put a finger to his temple.  “I only know the one where Canada is known as America’s Hat.”

            “So what does that make Mexico,”  JJ asked.  “America’s underwear?”

            “You know we can’t talk bad about the Mexicans.  Canadians are fair game.”

            They sat on chairs on JJ’s farm.  The barn was almost converted into an indoor basketball court.  JJ had wanted to add a hot tub courtside but the town wouldn’t allow it for some reason.  So there was a gazebo outside the house where the hot tub would go.  That was fine.  Everything would be ready by winter.

            “The farming life is not as hard as I’ve heard,” Carl said.  “When is the farm warming party?”

            “Next week.  Labor Day.”  JJ could see across the valley to the ridge on the other side, trees standing out all along the ridgeline, marching up the slope.  It was a cool evening after a hot day.  Late August in New England.  The best.

            “Who’s coming?”
            “Everyone.  Family, too.”

            “Lila?”

            JJ shrugged.  He pictured Lila walking down the hill to where they sat near the barn.  Then he saw her stalking away last spring, snow still on the ground, on the day he bought this place.  JJ had been busy since then.  He was helping grad students plant native trees.  He shopped for gym flooring and talked to contractors about eco-friendly materials.  He had friends over at night to cook sausages on the fire and look out over the valley.

            “Is Lila coming,” Carl asked.

            “We’ll see,” JJ said.

            “She’ll come.  Out of curiosity.  She wants to be around to see if you train wreck.”

            “Yeah, or to gloat,” JJ said.  “To say I told you so.”

            “Or,” said Carl.  “More likely, to pick up the pieces.  And put you back together.”

            JJ sighed, “She’s done it before, I guess.  But hey, let’s play horseshoes before you go.  I made a pit for the party.”

            “You got horses on this farm?”

            “I told you,” JJ said.  “It’s not that kind of farm.”

Last Summer: Back to Work

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Carl picked JJ up for the night bake.  “She did it again,” Carl said.  “I go to bed early, get some pretty good sleep.  It’s her day off.  I wake up at 11:00, she’s already gone to the beach with her friend.  I mean, what the hell?  No note, no nothing.”

“Did you tell her you wanted to do something?”

“I thought I did.  I mean, it’s obvious.  We live together.  When we have time off we should do stuff together.”  Carl pulled into the Dunkin Donuts drive-thru.  Several cars in line, every night.  Night nurses, night construction workers, night bakers.  America really does run on Dunkin.  “How did you sleep?”

“I didn’t.”  The quality of sleep was always a topic for night bakers.  “I was too amped.”

“What about?”

“Take a guess.”

Carl stared at JJ.  “Not…No fuckin way.  Don’t mess with me, JJ!”  JJ tried to keep a poker face but the look on Carl’s face forced him to smile.  The car behind tooted gently to let them know the line moved.  Carl looked in the mirror.  “Eat me,” he said and moved up.

“It really happened.”

“No!”

“Yes.”  JJ took out an envelope and shook the ticket out to show Carl.  It was folded in a printout of the winning numbers from the lottery website.

“Holy shit,” Carl whispered as he examined the evidence.  Then, “Why didn’t you call me?  If I hadn’t reminded you’d have thrown the ticket away or smoked it or something.”

“I didn’t want to wake you.  And I knew I’d see you tonight.  And I don’t smoke anything anymore.”

“You kept this to yourself all day?”

“Well,”  JJ said and looked away.  “I told Lila.”

Carl hit the steering wheel with both hands.  “Moron!”  He eased up to the order board.  “Two large coffees, one black and one light and sweet.”

Carl said, “How much?”

“Six point seven million.”

They moved up to the window, paid and got their coffees.  When they pulled onto the street Carl said, “You know, that’s really not that much money.  For you.”

“That’s what Lila said.”

They pulled behind the bagel store and JJ looked across the parking lot at the skate park.  Less than 24 hours before he watched those skaters and felt chained and empty.  Now he felt…unmoored? Unhinged?  Still empty?  He located the familiar oozing sadness in the center of his chest, an anxiety or fear about what was coming, a dull dread that was always with him.

“Day off tomorrow,” JJ said.  “Me and you, we should go have some fun.”

“Day off tomorrow?  Why do you even still work here?  Why are you here tonight?”

“It seemed the best thing.  You know, carry on.  See what develops.  Besides, what would you do without me?”

They sat in the car looking at the kids in the skate park.  In the dusk the skaters were rolling silhouettes of dangling arms and bent knees, of sudden lunges and launchings, and all types of landings from the flailing to the flawless.  “One day soon, I will come to you for a favor,” Carl said.

“Are you supposed to be the Godfather or something?”

“No,” Carl said.  “Just a baker with an ingrate girlfriend.  Let’s go to work.”  And they went inside to fire the oven, fill the kettle, and bake 194 dozen bagels.

Last Summer: Can’t Buy Me Love

/ David Ferland / 1 Comment

It was a gorgeous August day, low humidity and not a cloud in the sky.  JJ walked past the outdoor tables with their jolly red umbrellas and sat in the dim rear of the dining room, his back to the wall so he could see the entrance.  He was running on no sleep, his head teetering above a dense and sluggish slab of torso.  His head and body seemed barely connected, maybe joined with a spring, like a bobble head.  “A JJ bobble head,” he whispered and giggled.  The lady at the next table looked at him.
Lila came in and took off her sunglasses.  All that blonde hair, piled on top of her head by some female trick of bobby pins and clips.  Her neck and summer dress.  Then her legs.  JJ felt faint, his head lolling on the spring.
“I guess I’ll let you buy,” she said to him before even sitting down.
“Shit,” JJ said.  He felt in his pockets, touching only the lottery ticket.  “I forgot my wallet.”
“Funny.”
“No, really.”
Lila gave a little snort and a familiar half-smile as she sat down across from JJ.  “So what am I buying you for lunch?”
They ordered.  Kielbasa and eggs for him.  A spinach salad for her.  Lila said, “Y’know, six million really isn’t that much.”
“Huh?”
“I mean, if you’re not careful.”
“Am I really that helpless to you?  I mean, what the hell?”
“You’re impulsive and you know it.”
JJ thought of her in bed with that guy last night.  Who was it?  Did she give him the same mothering bullshit?  Was he a project of hers?  He looked out the front window, the street view like a far off TV showing a summery scene of sunshine and pedestrians, and tried to say nothing.  Then he said, “Do you remember that night when we swam naked in the ocean.  And we got out, we thought we were alone, and that creepy old drifter guy was standing there near our clothes?”
“Yes.”
“Was that who was in bed with you last night?”
“Nice, JJ.  Real nice.  I thought you wanted to talk about the lottery.”
“Do you even want to see the ticket?”
Lila sighed.  “No, JJ, I believe you.  You may hide from the truth. But you are not a liar.”
“Well, that’s something,” JJ said.
They ate and talked about what he could do with six million dollars.  Afterwards he said, “Let’s play the song game.  Name all the songs we know about money.  Maybe we’ll get some inspiration.”
Lila smiled.  “Can’t Buy Me Love,” she said.
“Can’t buy you love?  Or me?”
“You’re the one with the money.  So it can’t buy you love.”
“I was afraid of that,” he said.  “I was hoping you’d say Material Girl, where you’re the material girl and I’m the boy with the cold hard cash.”
The waitress put the check on the table and Lila picked it up.  “Not yet you aren’t.”  They both laughed and JJ decided he would just go to work like normal that night.  Carrying on seemed like the best thing to do, for now.

Last Summer: JJ Tells Lila

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            “Hello.”
            “Lila, it’s JJ.”
            “Oh shit, not again.  It’s 4:00 AM.  JJ, you have to stop.”
            “It’s not like that.  Something happened to me.”
            “Have you been drinking?”
            “No.  Maybe just a little.”
            “Good bye, JJ.”
            “Wait!  I just found out I won the lottery.”
            Silence, then the rustling of sheets.  “What?”
            “I won the lottery.”
            “You don’t play the lottery.  I remember what you said.  Extra taxes for morons.”
            “It was a whim.”
            “JJ, I swear, if you’re messing with me.”
            “Lila.  6.2 million dollars.”
            Silence then the rustling again.  “What?”
            “I won 6.2 million dollars in the lottery,”  JJ said.  Then he heard a muffled male voice over the phone.  He could picture Lila’s bed, her pushed over to one side with the phone and…who?  “Who’s your friend?”
            “JJ, there’s no one here.”
            “It’s none of my business.  I just needed to tell someone.”
            “Wait.”  And JJ heard the voice again, a querying tone.  Like, who the hell’s calling at 4:00 AM on a Tuesday?  The hollow drag of a hand over the phone and Lila’s muffled response to her bedmate.
            JJ said, “Do you have permission to talk to me?”
“I’ll call you later,” Lila whispered and hung up.
JJ looked at the winning ticket.  He had the urge to put it in his pocket and run to someone.  He thought of Charlie Bucket winning the golden ticket and the shopkeeper telling him to run home, to run from all the creeps and shady adults.  He thought of Charlie running to his family in their little shack with the four grandparents sharing the one bed.  Grandpa Joe couldn’t get out of bed because he was too weak and hungry.  But now that he can go to the chocolate factory he’s doing a happy dance around the shack.  Deadbeat. 
JJ’s phone buzzed and he looked at the text message from Lila.  “lunch jakes noon.”
“OK,” JJ said.  “Ok.”  He went to find a pen to sign the back of his golden ticket.