complete works: summer's end

marni

bill scheurer — Mon, 10 Jan 2022 18:59:00 GMT

Marni stood on the paved shoulder alongside the Edens Expressway, at what appeared to be the exact spot where their car had been only minutes before. I was on my way to a special coaches’ meeting after the funeral.

It had disturbed me when I passed them by. What looked to be a Hispanic family stranded next to their rusted out car, steam rising from the overheated radiator like smoke signals or incense. I had appointments. I was busy. Someone would come, I told myself. Police. Roadside assistance. Someone. Someone else.

I didn’t get a good look at them. What I saw as I drove past was a young couple with a toddler clinging to his mother’s neck as she cradled him in her arms and watched her husband with his head buried under the hood. What stood out was the car.

It was an old luxury sedan, the big kind nobody buys anymore except real estate agents. The metal might have been a shade of red in its more prosperous days, when its proud first owner drove it off the lot.

Now, it was just a vague c…

woody

bill scheurer — Sun, 09 Jan 2022 20:08:00 GMT

Woody sank in his overstuffed, beige corduroy chair like he wanted to disappear. I felt bad for the guy—looking on from my vantage point where he had me perched on its thick upholstered arm—his right hand, as always, stuck up my ass. If he had designed me with movable eyes, they would have rolled down in sorrow for him now.

But, I am no ordinary dummy. He had them make me entirely out of molded plastic, an exact replica of himself. The short-cropped, graying, dirty-blond hair. The thinly wrinkled brow on his strong forehead. A hint of loose-hanging jowl beginning to drape from his high cheekbones. Deep-set eyes, glowing green in the dark like a startled cat, their sockets inlaid between cheekbones and brow with an almost oriental slant, and graced by thick dark, cover girl lashes. Nordic nose and chin with near-perfect symmetry and the feint trace of a cleft. There was almost no room in this face for a mouth, no more than a small horizontal slit, marked by the thinnest of lips, a natur…

lucy

bill scheurer — Sat, 08 Jan 2022 23:06:00 GMT

“Lucy, could you get that table?”

I never could say no to Candace, even though it was not my section.

“Lucille.” I corrected her, for the fiftieth time. “See,” pointing to my badge.

“Sorry, Hon.” Everyone was ‘honey’ or ‘sweetie’ to her. But she meant it, so that was okay. “Could you help me out? I’m swamped.”

It was unusually busy for August. I think they were here to get out of the heat.

“Sure, Candy” I flashed my shark smile. “I could use the tips.”

“You’re a dear.” I forgot to mention ‘dear’ too. Candace’s ruddy face smiled warm gratitude, my irony sailing over her head without a glance. How did she get to be so nice? Did it come with being a large girl, like a happy pig in a nursery tale? I’m not being mean. She simply had the protruded features of a pig, the eye sockets, cheeks, and snout. Even her stumpy legs seemed to balance on cloven hooves. Still, she was pretty enough, in a porcine way, with her cheery blue eyes and coarse brown hair. I loved her.

“No problem.” What can you do? S…

mē

bill scheurer — Fri, 07 Jan 2022 23:51:00 GMT

‘Mē,’ even his name put me off. It was so contrived, like everything else about him. Ridiculous, how all these people chased after this little man like he was some kind of phenom. And now, here I was, driving up Route 12 to attend one of his asinine poetry ‘concerts’ with my poor mother. She was so pathetic, I couldn’t turn her down when she asked me, pleaded with me, to take her, even though she is perfectly capable of driving herself. ‘Come on, I need the company’ she had cajoled, disingenuously. ‘It’ll be fun. We’ll have a good time together.’ When all the while, I knew…she only wanted me to be there, to hear the great man for myself. No doubt her addled mind was convinced I would succumb to his spell once I heard him, like so many millions of his devotees around the world. People will fall for anything, if they are desperate enough.

Mom certainly had reason to be desperate, what with Dad’s condition and all. It had been months now since his…what do I call it?…‘event,’ I guess, for …