BR's Blogger Challenge

Well, leave it to Bathroom Reading to drag me kicking and screaming off my slatted beach chair, spilling my fruity drink with the yellow umbrella all over my mindless summer novel... Oh wait. I was just on vacation from blogging. Still in West Texas and there is no beach in sight. But I did finish a major presentation tonight, and for all practical purposes it is Spring Break. Ahhh. I feel better already. Thanks for all your sweet comments - you guys are the best. And I will be back to blogging on Monday (going to Ruidoso this weekend to hang out in the mountains with TBF).

But for now, here's the promised submission* for Bathroom Reading's challenge. Texas vs. Expats. Read this to find out more. It's long, but it's worth it.

The evening sun had just slipped behind the horizon when Hank left the
surprise retirement party thrown for him by the staff at Bell
Automotive. He had expected a small tribute to celebrate his 30 years
of service to the company, but did not expect the entire staff to show
up to present him with a Rolex watch that cost more than what many of
his co-workers would make in a two-month period. After opening his
gift and giving a short speech, Hank declined an outpouring of
requests to move the party elsewhere. After all, tonight also happened
to be he and Carolyn's 25th wedding anniversary. Hank knew that
Carolyn would expect a surprise of her own when she returned home from
her shift at the salon.

The story of how Hank and Carolyn Sanders met and fell in love was
well known by their friends and family. The story was a favorite among
their children, who each had cited it at their wedding receptions.

Hank worked at the Munford Hotel with the same diligence and
enthusiasm he would eventually take to Bell Auto. The shift manager
knew Hank would be the first one to volunteer when another staff
member fell ill. Hank scraped for every hour he could get, especially
amid rising tuition costs at the Harper College Business School that
he attended during the day. He had been working an extra shift that
rainy Tuesday evening when the Strensin family had arrived at the
front desk, soaked and tired from their cross-country drive from
Connecticut.

Carolyn Strensin was a fresh-eyed and delicate 17-year old who had an
ability to break the hearts of boys she had not yet met. She was
unaware that even the hearts of several of her father's friends ached
for her. Her shyness protected her from the trappings that other girls
in her school had long ago fallen victim to, instances that usually
involved awkward and sticky fumblings in the backseats of cars
belonging to members of the Hill Valley varsity basketball squad. She
had not noticed Hank's heartache while he walked behind her and her
parents, struggling to manage the Strensin's suitcases while politely
acknowledging Bob Strensins barking commands.

"Make sure that our wake-up call is at 8am sharp, I know how you kids
like to screw around at the front desk and forget to write things
down," he said. Hank assured Mr Strensin that everything was taken
care of, and noticed as Carolyn's long, auburn hair fell from its nook
behind her ear and over a corner of her eye.

Bob Strensin's panache for eluding opportunities to tip hotel staff
had preceded him, but Hank was too occupied with his thoughts of
Carolyn to worry much about it. He left the Strensin's room and made
his way back to the elevator. It was then he heard her voice for the
first time.

"Hank?" a voice called out. It was Carolyn, smiling awkwardly, engaged
in a half-walk, half-run towards him down the hall. "This is for you.
I'm sorry about my dad."

She handed Hank a dollar and fifteen cents in dimes and quarters.

"This is all I have," she said. "But my parents are about to go eat,
and they were wondering if you would bring a fireplace stoker up
sometime tonight. Our room is still cold." She smiled delicately and
dashed back down the hall.

Hank waited a polite period of time before returning with the stoker.
Carolyn answered his knock at the room. Her parents had gone to
dinner, leaving Hank ample time engage her in conversation first about
the weather, and then about his family. The conversation turned to
school and music, then dreams and wishes. Carolyn realized she was in
love with the bellhop at about the same time her parents entered the
room.

Hank thought he was in trouble, and instinctively reached into his
pocket for the fork he had been told to deliver from a guest room back
to the kitchen earlier that day.

"Fork," he proclaimed, "In case you had leftovers." He laughed
nervously before exiting in a hurry. Bob Strensin examined Hank as he
strode by with a glare that suggested he might be feeble.

"I hope you brought that damn stoker too, boy," he said.

Carolyn returned one year later to join Hank at Harper College, and
the rest was what love stories came to be based on.

Almost.

Hank returned home from the retirement party whistling a happy tune.
He always enjoyed he and Carolyn's anniversary ritual. He would greet
her at the door with a fireplace stoker and a silver fork, and say,
"Stoker. And a fork. In case of leftovers."

He would have a hot bath ready for her, and would massage her feet as
she soaked. They would flip through their wedding album, and at some
point, he would produce $1.15 in quarters and dimes, smiling smugly
and asking Carolyn what he could get for it. He would usually get a
schoolboy's fantasy in front of the fireplace.

Carolyn would be home any minute. Hank went to the couch in the living
room and fished out some change. He trotted upstairs and turned on the
bath. He leaned into the oversized sauna bathtub, and turned the
faucet.

He almost missed it. On most days, Hank would have never looked to the
rear of the bath while turning on the faucet. If he didn't have to
turn to position the wedding album and coins on the sink, destiny
would have taken a better turn. Hank wasn't so lucky, and his eyes
caught a glimpse of purple next to the bar of soap. It contrasted
against the bright white tile. He adjusted his eyes and leaned closer,
and his face turned from joy to horror at the site of an unrolled
condom. His expression would almost be deemed comical by an onlooker
reached for it, and saw that it was soiled.

Hank stepped back, releasing from his fingers the wedding album and
coins, which spilled onto the marble floor. His hands shook, and he
made a haphazard attempt at preventing the stoker from falling from
his arms. He leaned over and stopped the bath, and drained it.

It had been the technician that had come last month to do electrical
work on the house, Hank thought. Sweat spilled from his brow. He
hadn't thought much about the fact that the technician had been coming
by every other afternoon to "double check" the installation.

"Just wanted to make sure we got it right," he'd say, before hurriedly
running off to his van. He had called often, usually asking to speak
to Carolyn about the lighting. Hank had noticed on several occasions
that he sounded drunk when he called.

At about the same time Carolyn threw her keys down onto the counter,
calling out Hank's name, Hank had pulled his car over at the rest
stop, just behind a picnic area where he was out of view. As Carolyn
signed her name on the anniversary card, licked, and sealed its
envelope, Hank cried and banged his fist on the steering wheel. Just
after Carolyn stepped into the bathroom and awkwardly noticed the empty
bath, Hank was staring out over a cornfield, wiping the tears from his
eyes.

Carolyn's face came undone as she saw the condom at about the same
time Hank's came undone from the lone bullet that entered through his
mouth, briefly piercing the roof of his mouth before journeying
through his brain, out his scalp, and neatly into the roof of the car.


*I must confess up front that I did not write this. I was chatting with a fellow Texas blogger (so no, it's not cheating, it's a team effort!) over at Winter of Discontent, and he offered to write the submission for me given my rather fragile state this last week. Good, ain't he? Now go visit his blog - he's being interviewed by VH1 for a blogging show. Very cool.