by Marty Coleman | Apr 28, 2015 | Illustrated Short Stories |
Chapter One
Emily took the mirror out of her purse. She was looking for blood splatter but noticed her hair instead. She didn’t like how her hair looked when it blew in the wind. Instead of looking full like she wanted, it looked straggly and thin. She couldn’t decide if it was due to the hair cut she got, which she hated, or the product she had been persuaded to buy at the salon. Whatever the reason, she didn’t like it and wanted to get back in the car as soon as possible. This wasn’t just due to her hair looking shitty, but because of the body in the middle of the road. Emily knew the road was seldom travelled but she didn’t want to take chances just in case one of those survivalist nut cases up in the backwoods came down in a tank or something.
Chapter Two
Emily reapplied her lipstick as she drove down the mountain. She got out her mascara and added a bit to her upper lashes when she got to the one and only stop light in town. She even got a bit of blush to each cheek before the light turned green. She was hungry and Chicken King was right at the corner. She liked Chicken King because the chicken fingers were easy to eat and the straws were just the right diameter. She was particular about these things knowing that it all contributed to her looking as good as she did. People thought it was just her lucky genetics and that pissed her off. She worked hard and sacrificed to look this good. She wished people realized that.
She ate as she drove down the coastline. She wondered how long it would be until the body was found. She wondered if wild animals would find it and drag it off the road. Wouldn’t that be convenient she thought. She noticed the moon was red and thought that was very strange.
After about 3 hours of driving she stopped for gas. She put on a pair of those cheap rubber gloves that come in a box before touching the gas hose since the worst thing in the world was to be able to smell gas on her fingers after she got back in the car. She went into the convenience store to go to the bathroom but the toilet was covered in pee and she couldn’t do it. She would just have to wait. She got a pack of gum and told the teenage clerk he should have been checking the toilets more often because one had urine all over it. He looked at her blankly and said, “Someone else does that, I just take money.”
Emily got back in the car and drove away. She was upset about that encounter, realizing that it was an example of the younger generation having no initiative to make something of themselves. What had gone wrong with America anyway, she thought as she searched for another gas station.
Chapter Three
She stopped at two more places along the way looking to pee. Both were unacceptable. One had a cracked toilet seat and she just knew it would pinch her flesh if she sat on it. As she walked towards the door she looked at the clerk, a young Mexican woman with dark blush on her cheeks and high arched eyebrows painted on, and said under her breath, “No wonder this place is in disrepair. You people are lazy.” The clerk didn’t hear what she said but did notice Emily’s red lipstick and thought it was too bold considering how dark her eyeliner was. When Emily got back in the car she looked in the rear view mirror and put a fresh coat of lipstick on. She was happy she had some style compared to that ugly clerk. “How could people want to look like that?” she whispered to herself.
The second store only had a unisex bathroom. A man emerged from it right as Emily walked up. Emily hated the idea of sitting down on the same toilet a strange man had peed in, especially as fat and ugly as that man was. She immediately turned around and stomped out. She slapped her hand on counter as she left and said to the clerk, “What the fuck is wrong with you people?” The clerk, a Korean boy about 13, didn’t understand english and had no idea what she said, only that she was mad about something. His mother was in the back room and didn’t hear anything.
She almost cried when she got back in the car after the third try because she really had to pee. But she looked in the rear view mirror, smoothed out an errant eyelash and said to herself, “I have my standards and lowering standards contributes to the downfall of society.” She had memorized that line from her “Planning For Success’ CD and repeated it to herself often. She also didn’t cry because it would have smeared her eyeliner, which had taken a long time to put on that morning.
Chapter Four
By this time her bladder was close to bursting. She was glad she hadn’t compromised her standards but she also was getting desperate. The next place had better be acceptable or she wasn’t sure what she would do. She wasn’t holding out much hope when she walked in and saw that the clerk was a black woman. She had a big pile of what looked like black, brown and tan snake coils on top of her head. She had on a very low cut top that showed overflowing breasts. Emily wondered how someone could show that much breast and not show her nipples. “No wonder they all get pregnant so early”, she muttered to her self.
While it wasn’t pretty inside the bathroom, and that annoyed her, it was clean. She was comfortable enough to sit all the way down on the toilet and go. She felt so relieved that she actually said out loud to herself, “Now I can die happy.”
She left the bathroom and walked back into the store. As she did she noticed a young boy, maybe a teenager, standing at the counter. He was in a tan, button down shirt, khaki pants and loafers. His hair was cut in a contemporary but still traditional look. He was standing up very straight and looking straight ahead. She thought some mother was proud of that boy, he looked like he was going to do great things in life.
She smiled as walked towards him, coughing in hopes of getting his attention. Right as she did this he raised his right hand and pointed a gun at the clerk. But he heard Emily cough at that same moment and, without thinking, turned his gun toward her and pulled the trigger. Emily had enough time to widen her eyes and drop her jaw in disbelief. The bullet went straight into her open mouth, hit the back of her throat and cut right through her brain stem as it exited. Emily’s brain was able to think one final thought before she died. “My lipstick…”
The store clerk, named Edna, ran to the back of the store when the shot was fired. The boy ran after her. He tripped and fell hard on a slick patch of wet concrete on the loading dock. Edna, hiding behind the dumpster right next to where he fell grabbed a piece of wood from a pile of broken pallets and hit him on the head as hard as she could. She didn’t realize the piece of wood had a big nail sticking out of it. The nail caught the boy in the eye and he screamed in pain as she kicked the gun out of his hand.
Epilogue
Edna was a local hero. She was given a civilian service award by the sheriff and that made her consider studying law. She eventually earned her law degree and spent many decades representing immigrants before she retired and moved closer to her grandkids.
The boy went to prison as a juvenile, where his nickname was ‘Cyclops’. He got out when he turned 25 and moved to Alabama. Ironically he ended up being a clerk in a convenience store until his death in a car wreck at age 30.
The woman Emily murdered was found on the road where she died. Her name was Shannon and she was remembered by many in her town as a wonderful wife and mother and a dedicated volunteer at the psychiatric hospital. Her murder was never solved. Her husband of 12 years eventually remarried and moved away to Arkansas with his new bride and his 3 kids. They had a daughter together and named her Shannon.
Emily’s body stayed in the local county morgue for a month. No one claimed it and they were unable to find any relatives. She was cremated and her ashes were stored in the morgue. The cardboard box they were in was put in a supply closet during a building expansion 3 years later. During some jack hammering in the parking lot next door the box fell onto the floor and broke open. When the custodian saw the mess he swept the ashes towards the drain in the floor and washed them down. The cardboard box was thrown away.
The End
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by Marty Coleman | Apr 27, 2015 | Ego - 2015 |
Examples Please
How about a racist? She feels exalted by virtue of her inclusion in a certain race. Other races aren’t as good as her race, as proven by ‘history’. How does she sustain this belief? By ignoring the ten thousand truths that prove the ‘history’ (and thus the belief) is incomplete and wrong.
And a Sexist? He feels exalted by his status as the ‘stronger’ sex. He is bigger, faster, stronger, smarter than a woman. In addition, his religion and his tradition says it’s so. How does he sustain this belief? By ignoring the ten thousand truths that prove his religion and tradition are incomplete and wrong.
Why Yoga?
Then why do I have a person practicing Yoga in the drawing instead of a drawing of a racist or sexist?
Good question. What’s your answer?
© 2015 Marty Coleman
Quote by Alexander Pushkin, 1799-1837, Russian author and poet
“The illusion that exalts us is dearer to us than ten thousand truths”
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by Marty Coleman | Apr 23, 2015 | Ego - 2015 |
Sometimes I Talk Too Much – A Quirky Quiz
I had a fancy schmancy quiz all figured out but it was the first time using the app and it conflicts with some ghost in the machine and was making the entire post invisible (told you it was a ghost issue).
So here’s the quiz in just plain text until I figure it out. Give your answers in the comments section, ok?
1. Match the ‘Sometimes’ with the ‘I Should Have’.
- Sometimes it’s because the other person doesn’t have time to talk and I don’t realize it.
- Sometimes it’s because I think who I am talking to wants me to keep talking but they actually want to say something.
- Sometimes it’s because I am so excited about the topic I don’t get the message that those I am talking to aren’t.
- Sometimes it’s because I’ve told the story or given the coaching lecture to the same people before and don’t realize it.
- Sometimes it’s because I want something resolved RIGHT NOW but the other person isn’t ready to have it resolved yet.
- Sometimes it’s because I am just full of myself.
a. I should have seen their eyes glaze over.
b. I should have seen them looking at their watch or phone a number of times.
c. I should have seen them give a big sigh.
d. I should have heard them talking among themselves.
e. I should have seen them try to get a word in edgewise.
f. I Should have done all of the above.
2. Match the word on the left with its language on the right.
- IGAV
- RAZ
- CHAT
- PAGBUBUTAS
- KEDELIG
- TRÅKIG
- LANGWEILIG
- скучный
- TYLSÄ
- NUDNÝ
- WOTOPETSA
- ZERIKARLI
|
a. Czech
b. Estonian
c. Finnish
d. German
e. Nyanja
f. Uzbek
g. Haitian
h. Swedish
i. Russian
j. Galician
k. Tagalog
l. Danish |
3. All these words have the same meaning in English. What is it?
Drawing and quiz © 2015 Marty Coleman
Quote by Anonymous
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by Marty Coleman | Apr 20, 2015 | Illustrated Short Stories |
Plain Jane and Wild Willy
Jane was eating lunch in the little bookshop bistro on Main Street. She sat reserved and composed, her hair pulled back with a nondescript band into a well mannered ponytail. She ate her soup silently, not moving her body much and never looking up. She didn’t look sad, just self-contained. Her clothing was baggy, not revealing too much of her figure and the colors were muted.
As she finished her meal a big, loud, wildly dressed man came in the bistro. He had on leather pants, fur vest, denim shirt, silver bolo tie, gold earrings, bright orange and purple cowboy boots and a big black cowboy hat. He had a big beard, his hair, part black part purple, was in a braid and he had 3 big rings on his left hand. He walked over to the woman eating her soup leaned over her and gave her a big kiss on the mouth.
She smiled and said, “Are you done shopping now?”
He said, “Yep, and you’ll be proud, I only got 3 shirts, 2 pairs of pants and one hat. Oh, and I got a new pan and some dishtowels and a plant and a new trashcan for the kitchen. But that’s all I got!”
She laughed and said, “Ok, I’m done. Let’s go.”
He scowled, “what a second, I want to find that cookbook I read about online.” He walked towards the back of the store.
She turned her head and saw me watching their interaction. She smile, rolled her eyes and said to me, “Whatchya gonna do, right? He wants what he wants and if he’s happy then our house is happy.”
He came back quickly with two books and exclaimed, “Look, I found the recipe book but also that book, ‘How to Organize Your Life and Closet’ I’ve been wanting.”
Jane got up, went up to the register and paid for the lunch and books. She said, “Ok, Willy, now we have to go home. The playoffs are on in 2 hours and I need a nap before that.” She went out the door, holding it for Willy.
She smiled and waved to me as the door closed.
The End
Drawing and story © 2015 Marty Coleman
Here’s the drawing after it was colored but before I shaded it.
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by Marty Coleman | Apr 15, 2015 | The Napkin's Guide to Happy Living |
Intention vs Reality
I had a completely different quote in mind this morning when I went into my studio to draw. But I saw a scary looking eye in the napkin pattern and drew the eye. That led to a fish, which led to a number of other fish, which led to them looking like they were about to attack something or someone which led to a woman on a beach covered in wounds and scars.
I didn’t intend it, much like the many things we say and do that hurt people. There is a scene in this past year’s Oscar winner for best picture, Birdman, that illustrates this perfectly. The main character is freaking out about the possibility of being humiliated by the press and the public if the play he is directing and acting in (as well as having written) turns out to suck. He asks another character, a woman he is sleeping with, “Aren’t you worried about being humiliated?” She says in response, “It won’t be the first time I’ve been humiliated.” He says, “Of course it won’t be.”
She stares at him and says, “You’re an asshole.” She walks out and he is left completely baffled, having no idea why she said that or why she is mad.
He is baffled because he had no intention to hurt her feelings. But her feelings were hurt nonetheless. It was an imagined hurt that led to a real wound. He later realizes that what he said hurt her feelings and apologizes to her. He doesn’t apologize because he intended to hurt her and he is now sorry. He apologizes because he realizes it doesn’t matter if he intended to hurt her. What matters is the effect of his words hurt her.
Dangers all Around
There are dangers in life, real scary dangers. Some we can see coming, like the severe weather we have here in Oklahoma. Some we don’t ever see coming, like an earthquake in California. And some we understand as part of the risk of everyday life, like driving a huge hunk of metal down a road, flying in a giant tube in the sky, or being in a relationship with another human. Those are real and wounds from them going wrong can be real wounds.
There is enough danger in reality, no help comes from adding imagined danger to the things that wound you.
This and all other napkins are for sale as originals or as prints. Coming soon The Napkin will be a secure ecommerce site and you will be able to buy direct. In the meanwhile, please email me at marty@napkindad.com to inquire.
Quote, drawing and commentary by Marty Coleman © 2015
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by Marty Coleman | Apr 9, 2015 | Series |
Nina and Tuaca
Last year my friend and fellow napkin artist, Nina Levy, submitted and won the annual Tuaca Napkin Contest (Tuaca is a liqueur). She couldn’t submit again this year so she encouraged me to enter and I came up with this napkin as my entry. Here is her winning entry from last year.
Why Lions
I included lions because the research I did showed the lion was integral to the Tuaca company heritage as an icon and a brand identifier. Other than that addition I pretty much drew a nice moment to enjoy a cool drink on the rocks.
Sharing and Winning
It will be up online at the Tuaca Napkin Gallery as soon as they see it doesn’t break their rules (I can’t show a drunk human or lion for example) and/or not perverse in some way. I hope you will go there and share my napkin on your social media platforms. While there isn’t a formal voting element to the contest I would hope a lot of shares might indicate to the judges the popularity of the drawing.
The winner gets some nice swag and a check for $5,000.00 from Tuaca. I would like that!
Drawing © 2015 Marty Coleman
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by Marty Coleman | Apr 6, 2015 | Dressing - 2015 |
#sameoutfitdifferentday
Dressing the Same
This morning I read an article, ‘Can Women Get Away With Wearing the Same Thing To Work Everyday?‘. It’s interesting and has some insightful and funny responses.
My response at the time was, “Here’s my thought on it. Unless the expectation of a woman wearing something different everyday is going to get you fired or demoted if you don’t adhere to it, then the decision is on the woman. It’s not about society’s pressure, or other women’s expectations or anyone else on the outside saying anything, it’s the woman making the decision on what to wear who is responsible for the decision. We constantly talk about how we are suppose to NOT worry about what others think. As a woman, if you believe that AND you like the idea and reality of wearing the same thing most every day (or even more than once a week) then wear it and be confident in your choices.”
But that is a bit simplistic of a response from a man and creative artist point of view. Since I am not a woman, I wanted to find out more about why or why not my female family and friends think.
Here are my questions:
- Is ok or not ok to wear the same outfit more than one day in a row, in a week, etc.
- What are your rules for that and why do you have them?
- What do you think when other women break those unspoken rules?
- If you don’t like the rules because they are expectations from outside, why and how do you get around them, or do you?
- What wider opinion do you have about this?
Here is what my wife said about it. She would wear the same earrings or shoes, no problem. Jeans as well. But a skirt, dress or blouse? No, she wouldn’t. Why not I asked. She said it might show she doesn’t have much to wear (meaning she’s poor to some degree) and that it might smell, or people might think it smells even if it doesn’t, just by virtue of it being worn more than once. She said if she was traveling she might be more likely to repeat an outfit.
Retweet and Share
I would love to know what you think of the drawing and give a retweet or a share of the image and the blog post would be great. Use the hashtag #sameoutfitdifferentday to connect to others talking about the article.
Keep the conversation going among your friends, male and female, see what they have to say.
Bonus Points
Where do the texts on the towel come from?
This drawing and any of the napkin drawings are for sale – original or print. Please email me at marty@napkindad.com to inquire.
Drawing and commentary by Marty Coleman
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by Marty Coleman | Apr 1, 2015 | Shame - 2015 |
A Question
Is this quote true?
I think it might be. Here’s why.
The Anger of My Father
When I was growing up my father was often angry. He wasn’t pissed off at little league games or piano recitals (and I am grateful for that), but he was angry at many things for many years.
Life got pretty difficult in the early 70s due to his drinking, and the drinking of my mother, who was inebriated most every single day for years. The alcohol brought out intense, angry battles between them, with us three kids being collateral damage along the way. My older sister and I were teenagers during this time and we often got in arguments with them as well. Most of my arguing with either of them basically was telling them to get their shit together, that they were the parents and we were the children and I wished they would act like it. It was frustrating and unstable, not only for us two older ones, but especially for my younger sister, who was between 6-9 years old during the worst years.
And it got worse before it got better, a lot worse. But it did get better. My mother and father both stopped drinking. My father’s anger, while never complete gone, was greatly diminished and well within what could be considered ‘normal’.
20 Years Later
I don’t remember my father telling me he felt shame from all those years of anger, but I think that was one of the main emotions he felt. Why do I think that? Because when it was my turn 20 years later to be the adult with problems of alcohol and anger, that is what I felt.
What do you think?
From your experience, does something begun in anger eventually end in shame?
Here are my other posts on shame –
Headline Walking – Shame #1
Sara Haines, Kim Kardashian and the Power of Empathy – Shame #3
Drawing and commentary by Marty Coleman
Quote by Benjamin Franklin, 1706-1790, American inventor, diplomat, politician, business owner, printer, writer.
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by Marty Coleman | Mar 31, 2015 | Series, Sketchbook History Tour |
The Napkin Drawing
A few days ago I had a client meeting at Starbucks. I stayed after it was over to drink the rest of my coffee and draw. Two women were having a conversation close to me, one facing me, the other away, and it seemed I could get in at least a quick sketch before they left.
I did a quick pen and ink napkin drawing. What was interesting was both of them were sitting up straight. Neither leaned back in their chair, except briefly. The one facing away was particularly still the entire time, sitting on the very edge of her chair.
A few days later I finished the napkin drawing, coloring it in a somewhat fanciful way, not really worrying about accuracy because of the other drawing I did of them that same morning.
The Sketchbook Drawing
I took a chance they would stay a while and brought out my sketchbook and did another, more detailed, drawing of them. It probably took about 45-60 minutes to do the drawing.
Because they both sat so straight and still it was a great opportunity to get more in depth with the shading.
When I got home I immediately started working on the drawing. I like the finished drawing; the colors, shading and mood feel right. The only part that bothers me is where the two arms meet in the bottom middle of the drawing. It flattens things out in an odd way, making them look like they are next to each other instead of one being in front of the other.
Connecting
When I finished they were still talking. I usually draw people who are alone so it’s no big deal to come up to them when I am done drawing and show it to them. I may be interrupting something but it’s not going to be a conversation (unless they are on the phone/facetime, etc, in which case I don’t interrupt). In this case I knew I would be interrupting a conversation but I felt it would be worth it.
I showed them the drawings, first the sketchbook drawing, then the napkin. The women who was facing away, Elizabeth, didn’t seem to be appreciative of the interruption, which makes sense, since I WAS interrupting. Megan, who was facing me and whose face you see in the drawings, seemed more enthusiastic but still muted in her response.
And that illustrates why drawing two strangers and showing it to them is harder than drawing one. There is the consideration of the other person to take into account when responding to the artist. The dynamic of three is a lot more complicated than the dynamic of two. It’s the same reason that while I understand the desire & need, it can often be awkward when someone escorts a model to a photo shoot. The model is responding to the escort at times, instead of to me as the photographer. And it’s the reason that while people may dream of a menage a trois it barely ever happens in real life because it would be way too complicated (no, I haven’t).
I usually like to get a photo of the model with the drawing but given the situation I decided it would be too intrusive and didn’t ask. I always regret not asking. But I gave them my business card and told them the drawings would be done and up on ‘The Napkin’ by next week. Hopefully they will come see it.
Drawings and writing by Marty Coleman
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by Marty Coleman | Mar 30, 2015 | Illustrated Short Stories |
What She Did – Chapter One
Yes, she had to stay at her brother’s apartment Ruth told their mom. Yes, she knew that meant mom would have to find someone else to let the dog out to go pee during the day, but she still needed to stay over there.
Ruth made a list of things she needed to do before she got there and another list of things to do after she arrived. The final thing on the first list was to pick her brother up at the rehab place. The first thing on the second list was to recheck his apartment one more time for any alcohol. She found none.
She cooked dinner for her brother, who was uncommunicative and surly. They watched TV until late then he went to bed. She wasn’t comfortable going to sleep until she was pretty sure he was out for the night. She finally faded off around 4am, sleeping on a fold-out couch in her underwear.
What the Fire Did – Chapter Two
She was aroused from a dead sleep by the smell of smoke. She immediately started coughing and her eyes started burning. She couldn’t see. She yelled for her brother but got no response. She crawled to his door with her t-shirt over her mouth, trying to breathe. She touched the doorknob and it burnt the palm of her hand. She called for him again but got no response. She crawled back towards the front door and opened it. She got up and ran down the stairs out onto the lawn.
Ruth was in pain, her legs felt hot and she smelled burning flesh. She saw a TV news truck, an ambulance, a cop car and a bunch of people hanging around, many pointing at her. She collapsed in front of the ambulance just as a paramedic was coming towards her. They were able to get her on one of those rolling beds they use and started to investigate what her injuries were. She was able to look back at the apartment for a brief moment and saw 3 buildings burning, including the middle one she had run out of.
She was whisked off to the hospital where she found out her legs had been pretty badly burned. She was exhausted and pretty much passed out once she got out of the ER and into the ICU. She was awakened again and again for various reasons but it was all a blur.
What The Nurse and Doctor Did – Chapter Three
When she awoke the next morning she was jolted by seeing the massive bandages on her legs. She felt like the world started spinning as she realized where she was and what had happened to her. She dropped her head back on the pillow and let the world spin.
When she raised her head back up a nurse was walking in. He introduced herself as Samha, asked how she was doing and explained what was happening. She had her burn wounds cleaned out a bit last night, they were covered in a cream to help loosen the remaining dead skin, then they were wrapped with gauze to protect them. This dressing was going to be taken off this morning and her wounds examined by the doctor. Then they would be cleaned again and dressed again. This would be repeated twice a day until she was ready for a skin graft, if it was needed. She told her the rest of the medical treatments would be explained by the doctor when she came in.
Ruth was about to ask about her brother when the doctor came in. She was perhaps 50 years old, had wiry salt and pepper hair pulled back in a pony tail and wore black rimmed glasses. Her full lips were covered in a deep but bright red lipstick. As much pain as she was in, she wanted that lipstick. She thought it very weird that she thought that. The Dr. smiled and started talking as she looked down at the chart. She introduced herself as Dr. Fernandez. Ruth asked her straight out, “What happened to my brother?”
Dr. Fernandez looked at her with kind eyes and said, “Your brother wasn’t able to make it out. I am very sorry.” The world started spinning and she dropped her head back once again.
What Her Dad Did – Chapter Four
She pretty much slept through the first 2 days. When she awoke her father was there. He had brought Ruth her phone, her tablet, her latest Vogue magazine and a book that had been on her nightstand. He had also brought a small rolling suitcase with her makeup and other toiletries as well as a underwear, various tops and a sweatshirt for if it got cold.
Her mother would be at the hospital later, her father said. She had an appointment at the funeral home and had to take the dog for a walk. Ruth didn’t mind. She would rather see her father anyway, less stress, less guilt, less feeling inadequate. She knew her mother loved her, but she also knew she loved her brother more. She would figure out a passive aggressive way to indirectly blame Ruth for his death, she had no doubt.
There was a food tray on the rolling thing, she didn’t know what those things were called. Her father asked her if she wanted to eat and she realized she was very hungry. She wolfed down the salisbury steak and mashed potatoes, not caring in the least that it tasted institutional. She actually smiled when she got to the Jello cup. It was her favorite flavor, grape.
What the Fire Did, Part 2 – Chapter Five
Ruth and her father talked for a long time about what happened and he filled her in on some details. The fire had started in the apartment next door. A burner had been left on under a frying pan and the leftover grease in the pan had caught on fire. They think it had caught a dishrag that was next to the stove on fire and that it had fallen to the kitchen floor and caught the a little kitchen rug and part of the cabinet door on fire. That led to the entire kitchen going up.
When the people in the apartment realized what was happening it was way too late. They ran out the door and the air coming in fed the fire even more. The kitchen wall was the shared wall with her brother’s bedroom and the fire took out that wall almost immediately. It’s very likely he was dead from smoke inhalation before she had even woken up her father said.
What the Nurse Said – Chapter Six
When her father left she had her dressings changed. She was completely grossed out to see her legs so violently stripped of skin, glistening with bubbly disgusting wet…she didn’t know what it was. What is under your skin but before the muscle called anyway? It didn’t matter, it was terrible and that’s all she knew.
If that wasn’t enough, it hurt like hell to take of the bandages, clean the wound and put new bandages on. She decided this recovery process would be a good ‘enhanced interrogation’ technique for spy masters. She knows she would tell anyone anything they wanted to know to stop this pain, that much was for damn sure. She was glad Samha the nurse wasn’t asking questions though because he would have blushed at her confession. As bizarre as it sounded, even to her, having this incredibly handsome but gentle man tend to her wounds was just about the most loving thing that had ever happened to her in her life. She thought it extremely unlikely these two things would ever be combined, but right then they certainly were.
She thanked him, telling him she could never do what he did, it was just so hard and so gross. He then said something that changed Ruth’s life forever. He said, “But it’s actually very easy to do because I love you.”
“You love me? What do you mean, you don’t even know me.” She responded.
He said, “Is what I am doing a loving thing to do for someone?”
“Yes, of course.” she said.
“And that means I love you.” he said with a light smile.
He was just about to the door when he turned and said, “I know you are the same you know. Your mother told me of how you cared for your brother. I think you are a lover, not a fighter.”
Ruth sat stunned. Love, loving, lover. All of a sudden she understood the connection.
What Ruth Did – Chapter Seven
When Ruth got out of the hospital 5 weeks later her father picked her up and drove her to her apartment. As soon as he left she went down to her car under the car port. She tried to start it, fully expecting the battery to be dead but it wasn’t. She was nervous about driving, her legs were so weak and she had a stick shift that demanded a pretty strong left leg for the clutch. She gingerly drove around the apartment complex parking lot, realized it wasn’t as hard as she thought it would be and drove straight to her brother’s grave.
She sat on the wet ground and talked to him for a long time. She told him she had tried to get to him and apologized for not being able to save him. She asked him to say hi to Grandma and Grandpa, told him she would take care of his record collection. She told him about Samha and what he said about love. She said that that one comment had clarified exactly what it was she was to do with her life. She hated that it took such a tragedy she told her brother, but she wanted to let him know that his death had at least one good thing come out of it, his sister now knew her purpose in life.
After she left the cemetery she drove back to her apartment. She sat down at her computer and wrote an email to her friend Mandy from college. She knew Mandy was off in Thailand helping at a orphanage, having seen a few Social Media posts of hers over the past 6 months. Ruth wrote asking if she needed any help.
Epilogue
Ruth joined Mandy at the orphanage a month later. Mandy actually ended up coming back home to the US 3 months after that. Ruth however stayed at the orphanage. She met the love of her life, a co-worker at the orphanage who was raised in the local village. They were married 3 years after she arrived. They adopted one child from the orphanage and named him Samha.
Ruth lived with no regrets, loving deeply and completely the rest of her life.
The End
Drawing and story © 2015 Marty Coleman
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