Pagodaville, page 16
Since she only had four cabins available—Doreen took the one-bedroom cabin across from Anya and Milton’s cabin—Lorna had to be selective in her choices. So far, from the fifty or so calls she received, she was interested in six of them.
Over dinner in the main building, Lorna discussed some of her choices with Doreen.
“So, here’s one from New York City. Her name is Paris Katherine Todd. She calls herself P.K.”
Doreen said, “Ooh, I like the name.”
“Yeah, it caught my eye. She’s a singer songwriter. She performs in clubs around the city, and she’s looking to write material for her first album. She plays guitar.”
“Hmm, sounds like it might be nice to have some music on board, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, I think so! I liked the way she expressed herself. She sounded…grounded. Like, she knows what she wants, she sees her future in the music business.”
“Sounds solid.”
“She said it would be the perfect opportunity for her to write. Quiet, peaceful. She said she’s getting claustrophobic in the city. Wants to spread her wings. Wants to expand her creative reach. She’s tired of writing about urban grit.”
“I can understand wanting to get out of the city, for sure. You can’t spread your wings very far, know what I mean?”
“Do I ever.” She sorted through another folder. “Okay, here’s one. Sam Harper. She’s a writer who wants to publish a book on, of all things, the lesbian life! She said she was going to send me some samples of her work. She said the ad excited her because she was looking for an environment where lesbian women shared their lives. Who knows? Maybe she could write about us!”
Doreen stood up from the table, taking dishes to the sink. “What a gas, huh? I can see it now. She writes about the life here at the motel and what everyone does and all their business and whatnot. A real Pagodaville!”
“Pagodaville.” Lorna drummed her fingertips on the table. “I like it. I like it a lot. You know, if you think about it, we’re already there. What with all of us kooks running around here.”
“Hey, speak for yourself!”
Lorna guffawed, “You’re the biggest one of all!”
Doreen turned to face her while dripping soap and water off a dish into the sink. “What? Your nutty tribe started long before I got here!”
“True. But all the new additions have added a whole other dimension.”
Doreen came back to the table, leaned over and kissed Lorna on the head, then looked down at the file folders on the table. “So, who else you got lined up?”
“Let’s see.” Lorna shuffled some papers. “Lindy Sutton, a graphic designer, from Atlanta. She looks good. Here’s one I thought was kind of interesting. Alice Puntston. She calls herself ‘Lucky’.”
“Hmmm.” Doreen returned to the sink and turned on the spigot. She added, quietly, “Wonder if she bets on the horses.”
Lorna turned to look at Doreen, who had her back to her. She said, “Old habits die hard, eh? You like to go to the races?”
“Well, I don’t have box seat like Gino did, but I like to watch ‘em run. They’re so beautiful, the horses. Vinnie used to take us to Palm Beach. It was fun. A little outta my league tho.”
Lorna listened to Doreen while staring at her back. “Have I told you in the last five minutes that your ass is second to none?”
Doreen responded by wiggling it.
Lorna shook her head and continued. “So, Alice is an artist. Works mostly in watercolor. Needs new inspiration. I like her. She sounds focused. She asked me what the time limit was on the cabin, and I told her there was none. She was curious to know if I was looking for longevity, and I told her it was purely subjective.”
“Yeah, you don’t want to hem anyone in, right?”
“No, there’s no lease. For as long as it lasts. And I kind of hope these women move on to their future as artists. As long as they come here to create and grow.”
Doreen turned around, drying her hands on a dishtowel. “Did you ask her what the nickname stood for?”
Lorna looked at Doreen and tossed the papers aside. She stood up to approach Doreen. “I’m sorry, but I think I have to kiss you because your mouth is just too divine. The nickname inquiry will have to wait.”
Doreen responded by picking Lorna up by the ass and taking her over to the kitchen table. Lorna straddled Doreen around her waist with her legs.
The kitchen table contents were on the floor in ten seconds.
Luckily, the dishes were already in the sink.
The following day, Anya found Lorna and Doreen relaxing on the beach.
“Oh, hello, Misses.”
Lorna looked up from her position on the beach lounge. “Hi. You going to join us for a little relaxation?”
“Oh, no Miss. I came to tell you there is someone in the lobby who is asking to see you. She did not, well, would not give me her name. Said she was an old, old friend of yours, had not seen you for many, many, years, from up north and wanted to surprise you.”
Lorna’s hackles rose immediately.
Doreen stopped reading her Harley Mechanics tome.
“Oh? What does she look like?”
Anya shrugged. “Like a woman, really.”
“Okay, well.”
Doreen said, “What’s up, hon? Who do you think it is?”
Lorna felt her insides tingle. A squirm ran the course of her intestines.
It couldn’t be.
“What did you tell her, Anya?”
“I told her you were getting to some relaxation at the beach with Miss Doreen. She asked me to tell her how to get to where the beach was, and I thought maybe I should tell you first. She was wearing, like high heels and a dress. So, I told her to sit in the lobby, and I brought her some lemonade. Then I came down here.”
Doreen asked, “Do you think it’s an old friend from school, maybe?”
“Yeah. From school.”
Doreen cocked her head. She studied Lorna for a few moments then seemed to catch on. “Ah, shit.”
“Yeah. Oh shit.”
Anya said, “You want for me to tell her you are busy right now?”
Lorna stared out into the vast Atlantic. The crystalline white caps flowed carelessly towards the beach, the surf lapping quietly over the shells and debris. The sun warmed her shoulders, and her head was a little fuzzy from feeling so peaceful.
“No. I’ll be right up.” She felt Doreen’s hand on her arm. The warmth of it made her feel good, safe.
She knew she would not have to explain.
She leaned down and kissed Doreen gently on the lips, told her she had this covered in no uncertain terms with her eyes, then turned to go up to the motel.
When she entered the lobby and saw her from behind, she automatically straightened her shoulders. What she saw when she came around to the front of the woman was nothing short of surprising. Yes, the same pale blue eyes greeted her, and yes, the same crooked smile. But the rest of her had matured beyond her age. She looked old and tired. Her hair, while tied back in a bun, appeared dry and un-styled.
“Hello, Lorna.” The voice cut through her.
It startled her, bringing her back to those few years when nothing in the world mattered but their love. When her future had more possibilities than she could imagine. When it all came to a screeching halt that afternoon on the front steps with words spoken through a dark-webbed threshold.
Words that cut and eviscerated the purity of their love right out from underneath her.
Her throat went dry, the periphery of the room began to vignette.
She whispered, “Jeanie.”
-The End-
Post Script- A Note to Readers
Pagodaville is far from over. In fact, it’s just the beginning!
Now that you’ve met Lorna and her gang of misfits, get ready for the next installment:
The Ladies of Pagodaville.
Meet musician PK Todd, writer Sam Harper, illustrator Gloria ‘Lindy’ Sutton, and artist Alice ‘Lucky’ Punston.
They will teach each other, through their conflicts and successes in life, how to grow as individuals and as a family and that love, indeed, does conquer most, if not all, of life’s errant pitches.
Throw in Sam’s loveable 10-year old mutt named Bullseye (AKA Bean), a few unexpected visitations to the motel, and a radical piece of history in 1981 that changed the lives of gay people everywhere.
Come, let’s get lost!
Acknowledgements
Thanks to you, the reader!
Kris Guay, Editor
I’ve come to understand the meaning of clunky and cliche. Your educated eye marched right through the mess and cleaned it up. Forever grateful during this first book process.
Diane Long, Editor
I look forward to our continued literary relationship. You and I, we make a good team (on stage and off!).
Suzanne J. Vandersalm.
The following scenario says it all, circa early 2017
-Me: Okay, here is chapter two
-You: (at kitchen island counter) Oh good! I’m ready.
-Me: (I proceed to read) Blah blah blah blah
-You: (you get that far-away look in your eyes and your head droops in increments towards the surface of the countertop as I read on)
-Me: (continue to read without noticing that you are becoming dangerously over-stimulated) Blah blah blah blah
-You: (your head finally lands on your arms at the countertop and the words, “Kill me now” escape from your hidden face)
Thank you for your alert ear, your spot-on transition suggestions, your unending support and love. There isn’t anything we can’t work out.
Beta Readers:
Kim and Dan Refner, Joyce Dodrill, Rick Ruggles. Thank you for the time and energy you graciously gave towards the project. Your observations and positive energy helped shape the story to where it is now.
Thanks to Karen D. Badger. You took the hair-raising task of self-publishing from sheer panic and frustration to Phew! The sigh of relief is still felt to this day as I write book two in the same template.
Thanks to Ann McMan, author, for being a trusted member of the literary scene, most notably her own wonderful stories, and her recognized expertise with cover design.
Thanks to Salem West of Bywater Books. Your simple encouragement helped to recalculate the journey of this book.
Cover design: Ann McMan
About the Author
Author photograph credit: Fred Western
Ellen Bennett currently resides in West Michigan. This is her first published work. She is a Medical Massage Practitioner by trade, an amateur photographer and musician, and dabbles in community theater. You may read more about Ellen on the following web page:www.smilingdogpublicationsllc.com.
Ellen Bennett, Pagodaville
