Reflections of a mail man "edited"

I noticed the bag across the street from Mrs. Chow's house, by the hedge.  It was a brown fabric bag. At first I thought it was garbage left in the street. I delivered the bunch of letters for Mrs. Chow and as I was coming down the stairs, my eyes went back to the bag.  Curiosity took over and I crossed the street cautiously checking both ways beforehand, making sure nobody was watching.

The hidden camera idea crossed my mind and I looked down both sides of the street and at the houses around, just to make sure again that nobody was watching.  In my business being observant is a skill that I’ve developed over the years.  I picked the bag up with my left hand and noticed that it was heavy, maybe full of papers I thought. 

The bag had long leather handles, the fabric was brown with flowers, nothing new or in fashion. It was like an old lady’s bag. I put it back on the ground and pushed the bag with the letters with my elbow as I was crouched to open the brown bag.  I slide the zipper and my eyes froze at the sight of the pile of money.  Stacks of 100 dollar bills! Wow!

Blood rushed to my head and a shiver ran through my body, still crouching I looked one more time from one side of the street to the other.   What in the hell is this bag full of 100 dollar bills doing sitting in the street with nobody around, slowly I stood up, carrying the bag with my left hand I continued walking towards where I had parked my car earlier that morning.

Shaughnessy was an affluent neighbourhood in the city.  With large homes characteristic of the area,  nicely painted in yellows, greys, and a few browns with black trim.  Very seldom did you see people in the streets at that time of the day, except for few old ladies walking their dogs and I was sure I knew them all by first name.  That day was grey, it was spring and the air felt fresh with the sweet smell of Jasmine.  All the lawns were meticulously mowed and there was no sign of anything out of place in the perfectly landscaped yards.

When I reached the car, I opened the trunk.  I felt excited and confused.  I turned to think what the sensible thing was to do.   My memories sled through every event I remembered involving people finding a bag of cash. I deposited the bag in the trunk and closed it as I looked around for somebody following or watching me.

I leaned my back on the driver’s side door.  I wanted to smoke, have a drink or take a leak.  I realized that I was beyond nervous although I knew I had to act calm and easy as usual.  I thought about what to do with the still half full bag letters that were due to be delivered.   Should I deliver? Should I run….?

I decided to finish my day, which would give me time to think.  I walked back to the street where I had found the bag and finished delivering the mail at the same pace as every day.  As usual, I didn’t see anybody. I returned to the car, stuffed my jacket and empty mail bag in the back seat and, as usual, got in and drove home.

As I turned south onto Oak Street, a policeman flagged me down to stop.  “License and registration," he said looking at my eyes.  I handed him the papers without saying a word.  He walked slowly to the back of my car, then got into his car that was parked at the corner. “What the hell is this policeman is doing here,” I said to myself, "Does he know that I have a bag of money in my trunk?  Should I say something about it?"

The only thing we have to fear is fear itself, I remembered.   The policeman is doing his job, following his routine, calm down Elliot, I said to myself. It seemed like an eternity when finally the policeman returned to the car, handed me the papers and said, “Thank you, have a good day sir.” I put the registration away in the glove compartment resisting my instinct to fly away quickly.  I took my time, shaking, started the car and drove away slowly.  I passed this one, I reassured myself.  Nobody knows about that money….uufff…I was sweating.

Once at home, I couldn’t wait to see how much money was in the brown bag.  I dumped it on my bed and then proceeded to clean the night table and organize the stacks one on top of the other.  As it turned out there was around 2.5 million dollars and the bills looked real to me.

I went to the kitchen to make myself some tea.  My dog Harley followed me around, happy to see me. I had been too excited to say hi to Harley when I came in so I knelt down to pet him.  He looked at me wagged his tail.  “Today is our lucky day….I have found a bag full of money,” I said. “Our life is about to change."

I had been a mail man since I was 20.  I chose this job for many reasons, one of them being that I would have lots of time to myself, nobody checking on me and I would get to walk outside. During these 18 years in the job I have had time to think, man! lots of thinking. In my free time I like to stay home, enjoy Harley’s company, drink tea, read and occasionally watch TV. 

My house is small but quite comfortable, I had been renting it since I started delivering mail.

Among my favourite things to think about was, what would I do when I retire.  Where would I go?  Now it came in handy, having planned so many alternatives. I had never married, although I have had a few girlfriends for short periods of time.  I don’t like to dance and certainly I don’t like to go for walks on the weekends.  I guess I was more of a hermit than anything.  I never found a girl with the same likes as me, quiet and simple.

I started planning my retirement.  I packed the money back in the bag and tucked it in the attic. I could not read that day, I was hungry so I cooked a pot of rice with extra veggies and I grilled a chicken breast. I opened a bottle of wine to quietly celebrate my finding.  I will work until I get my holidays in August and then go down to Mexico to live, but how would I bring the money?

During dinner, I made up my mind that I was going to take a direct flight to Mazatlan to avoid entering the US.  There was a risk of being caught with the cash, and they could presume it was drug money.  Whose money was it actually? I didn’t want to go there.  I was busy planning my escape.  Once in Mexico it would be easy to live like I have here, low profile.  I didn’t have any luxurious dreams apart from being by the water, fishing and perhaps sailing…why not.

The went by. I gave notice to Mrs. Jones.  She was surprised that I was leaving.  I told her that a distant relative in the East needed my company.  I gave notice at work.  I told them the same story.  I told the few friends I had the same.  Everybody seemed quite surprised. From time to time I checked on the bag, just to make sure everything was fine.

I booked the tickets for that Wednesday in August.  I paid with my Visa. I picked Mazatlan because it is a tourist destination 20 years ago it used to be most popular Mexican place to go and now, not very many people went there. Perfect I thought. I sold most of my furniture and packed my books and the things I wanted to keep in storage, and threw away lots of junk that I had collected over the years.

As the day approached my stomach began to feel empty, I felt light and afraid. The summer was hot and finally my last day of work came. My colleagues gave me a small party at the office, hugs and the traditional good wishes and keep in touch requests.  Nobody knew that I was going to Mexico.

Two days before taking off I had to return the house to Mrs. Jones.  She was sad.  I thanked her for everything she had done for me, and say “By the way I have paid for your house!”  all of these years paying rent, covered her mortgage payments.  I moved to a small hotel nearby where I stayed watching my bag.  Everywhere I went I brought the bag with me.  I was afraid that somebody would steal it.

On the morning of my departure I called a cab and drove to the airport, I was taking a suitcase, Harley's kennel and the brown bag.  At the airport everything went well.  They asked me to put the brown bag with the cargo.  I thanked them but said, “I would rather bring it with me”. I had rehearsed my face going through security for weeks and what I would say if they asked me what was in the bag.

I got my boarding pass, thanked the attendant and headed to security.  I was nervous, I felt my blood leaving my face.  I walked to the officer with my boarding pass in hand, carrying the brown bag and Harley’s kennel.  The security person checked my boarding pass and took a look at Harley, who was behaving so good, curious and quiet.  She noticed that my hands were sweating,. “I’m afraid of planes,” I said quietly.

I placed Harley’s kennel where she pointed out and the brown bag on the belt for the X-Ray scanner.  I put my shoes, belt, watch, pen and the loose change I had in my pocket in the tray, behind I put the brown bag and pushed them into the machine.  I waited for the security person to let me go under the arch.  I needed to go to the bathroom, I was sweating cold!  She indicated me where to go and I did.  Nothing happened.  I just turned to the belt to pick up my things, the security person behind the X-Ray machine called me as I was grabbing the brown bag. “What is in here,” she asked. “Books," I said. “I am going to have to open it,” she pulled the zipper and opened the bag.  I was frozen! I didn't look directly at her, I was about to faint.

“Are you feeling alright?” she asked me. “No…not really,” I said.  “I am really afraid…the planes…I need to go to the bathroom,” I blabbed quietly. “Nothing to worry about sir,” she said, "planes are quite safe nowadays, nothing to worry!” She looked into the bag, put her gloved hands into it and lifted her head and smile. “You are good to go….have a good trip and relax…enjoy your holidays”.

My body felt so if was about to explode, I smiled back and said thanks.  Quietly and slowly I picked up the brown bag and Harley's kennel.  As I walked out of the room I could feel the drops of water running down my back.  Picking up the pace, I looked for the nearest bathroom.  I was through, next stop Mexico. I checked on Harley, he was fine, he was my company.

In the bathroom, I thought, “One more hoop and we are done…The Mexican authorities.  Once I cross that I am done.  I felt hungry and thirsty, I stopped for a sandwich and pop at Tim Horton’s, and I got a glass with water for Harley.  We were set for the plane, I had bought two seats one for me and the other for Harley.  In the plane the friendly attendants from Westjet were cracking jokes.

I placed the brown bag underneath the seat.  I loved my seat by the window.  As the plane started rolling down the tarmac, my stomach contracted one more time. I didn’t pay much attention to what the attendant was saying into the microphone, I was magnetized looking out the window.  The pilot put full throttle and the plane began its frenetic run until it got smooth and the nose pointed up, we took off.  The ground began to change, the view was different, new.  At times the plane would start shaking, like if we had gone from a very smooth road to a dirt one with bumps and then smooth again.

During the flight I reviewed my life, I wondered about the choices I had made, leaving my parents house at age 16, choosing to be a mail man, not having a partner or having the freedom of not having one, the absence of kids, somebody to teach what I’ve learned. My walks, the people I met during the 18 years delivering their mail, how their kids grew, the people that moved in, the ones that move out, the house renovations, the new cars, the changes in the weather, all that I knew was already behind. My house, my yard, my seat.  All that I had, was in the bag and Harley’s kennel beside me.

Five and one half hours later we were landed in Mazatlan. It was noticeably hotter than Vancouver. The faces were foreign to me, the colors much more intense, and the noise much more loud.  I walked to the immigration booth, the officer asked me how long was I coming for and I said, “long sir”.  He stamped my passport and let me in, next stop customs.  This time I was relaxed, I had nothing to fear but fear itself.  I handed my declaration to the officer and he checked Harley’s kennel, my suitcase and my brown bag.  “What do you have in here sir?” he asked, “Books,” I said, “Books”.  I went through.  It was hot, the big light brown tiles of the floor, the high ceilings and the numerous people around me, all shouting, it was my home, my new home.

Days later I rented a little house in “Barras de Piaxtla”, a small fishing village of around 450 people one hour north of Mazatlan. Although they had electricity and running water, the people live much as they have done for hundreds of years, fishing and ranching.  Many of the houses are still made from small sticks cut from the local woods and woven into walls.

In my little house I unpacked the few things I brought, took out the books I had in my brown bag, and carefully place them in the shelves in the living room.  Carved inside of them, was the money.  I had reflected that the best way to pass my treasure through customs was inside the books.  I sighed and I headed to the beach.  I was going fishing, it was my new job.

Frank Stalo

Frankie raised his head, “You just made a mistake Andy...a fuckin’ big one.” Andy standing with the empty bottle in his hand, Frankie’s face was dripping in water.  Frankie was in the habit of going to the gym every morning during the week, he felt good doing that and spending time with his acquaintances.  He enjoyed the effect of the steam after a hard work out. Frankie was not huge like Andy, but fit for his job. That morning, as often they were making jokes and Andy took it bad.

Frank had long blond hair and his slim body lean slightly to the left, as if he was leaning into a wall, it made him be different.  He would swing his head constantly to get his long hair out of the way, especially when he was not happy.  He approached Andy, pointed his finger at him and in a low voice said, “You are going to pay for this fucker.” Andy gave him an “I don’t care” look and he continued talking loud with the rest of the guys ignoring Frankie.  That pissed Frankie off even more, he walked to the shower and the steam room to think about his next move. Nothing good was going to come after that mishap...

After completing his ritual, Frankie left the gym and went to his car.  He took a deep breath as soon as he was outside, stretched his arms to enjoy the fresh air from that cold morning, it was sunny but fresh. The black Cadillac was waiting for him in the parking lot. And as soon as he opened the door that characteristic smell of the Cadillac brought him all kinds of memories. It smelled like a mix of heated oil, dust and cigarettes, it was actually a good smell.  He turned on the ignition and drove directly to Andy’s house.  He knocked on the door. He had never been inside the house before.

 The door opened and Helen showed up. She was a taller than the normal woman, in her early 30’s, dark hair and overall good looking.  “Hi, I am Frankie from the gym, Andy asked me to come and pick you up, did he call you?” he said in a friendly voice.

Frankie was attractive, woman never had much resistance to him.  “Andy hasn’t called me, but come in Frankie.” Frank closed the door behind him and grabbed Helen by the hair.  “Listen bitch, you are going to do what I tell you or I will beat the crap out of you,” he said while slapping Helen face furiously.  “Nobody fucks with me and your macho hubby thinks he can, now we are going to see how it goes.” Tears pored from Helen’s eyes and she let out a moan of pain. “Don’t hurt me please, don’t hurt me” she cried. Frankie was holding her by the hair. She was frozen, in shock, very afraid.

“Did you understand what I just said?” asked Frankie in a soft but penetrating voice, “Did you bitch?” She noted with both of her hands covering her mouth. “You and me, we are going to go for a ride, and you are going to behave good like I tell you!” Frankie was shaking her head back and forth for her to understand that he was not joking. “Put your shoes on, we’re going,” said Frankie letting here go.  Helen let go an “Ayyyyyyy....” and quickly obeyed Frankie’s demand and walked out the door to the black Cadillac parked in the driveway. Frankie closed the car door after her and drove away.

Her big dark open eyes were telling how afraid she was. After a while, the car stopped in front of a warehouse in the South part of town, it was an industrial area with few people around. The area was close to the train tracks.  Frankie drove the black Cadillac in and closed the overhanging door.  The warehouse was fairly empty, just a  few old machines around.  He pushed Helen to the stairs that led to the office above.  The room was 20’ by 10’, white, at the end there was a metal desk with a bunch of papers and boxes on top, an old telephone and a screen.  The reclining chair must have been from an auction from the fifties, it was dark wood, with a dark green leather cushion and the back was nailed with round buttons.  On the side there was a couch, green and red fabric, old and dusty.  A couple of shelves with scattered books and boxes completed the office. The place smelled like cigarettes and steel, the lighting was poor but acceptable.

He pushed Helen to the couch and lit a smoke. “What is it that I’m going to do with you?” he said aloud as he dragged into the cigarette. “Your hubby needs a lesson, what do you think?” Helen was speechless, she was petrified.  All her body was shook, she was shivering. “Do we want to hurt your kids?”  “No, no...please leave my kids out of this, you can do anything to me, but leave my kids alone. I’ll ask Andy to apologize to you and we’ll put an end to this and we’ll forget everything.” Helen pale face was looking straight at Frank’s. Frank was trying to find a way to screw Andy up for good.

Frank dialled... “Andy, it’s Frankie...  I need you to go down to Holguin to pick up a box for me.” Andy knew that Frank was involved in drugs. “Fuck you Frankie, you go yourself to get it, I am not your chulis.” There was a pause, “Listen asshole, I am not asking you for a favour, if you want to see your wife in one piece tonight you do what I tell you. From now on you work for me... and yes, you are my chulis...” and he laughed.

“I will text you a picture of your bitch and then you will call me for the address, do you get it?” Frankie texted a picture of Helen laying on the nasty couch to Andy.  He finished the smoke and threw the butt on the floor, he was too lazy to put it out.

Frankie’s phone rang, “Frankie, don’t do anything to my wife, let me talk to her.” Andy’s voice was more submissive than earlier this morning. Frankie passed the phone to Helen, she started crying and slobbering and couldn’t speak, she could only mumble “Andy, Andy” repeatedly.

“Enough!” said Frank, “give me the phone back”. With the phone in his ear Frank said...

“You see Andy what you did, for pretending to be a macho man in the gym, now you are my bitch just like your wife... I told you nobody fucks with Frankie!” The other end was quiet. “Now do you want to see your wife in one piece tonight Andy?” Frankie said in a nice voice. 

“What do you want me to do Frankie? I’ll do anything but don’t touch Helen please!”

“Drive to Holguin and pick up a package for me at 371 Pan de Guadalupe, don’t open the package and don’t do anything that you will regret later, do you understand? Did you get the address?”

“Yes I got it 371 Pan de Guadalupe in Holguin.”

 Andy knew exactly where it was, over the 110 to the Carretera Federal 45 in Mexico. Perhaps it was a 2 hour drive at the most from Chaparral, New Mexico, where his office was. Andy, Helen and the girls enjoyed going down to El Paso on the weekends to try the inexpensive Mexican restaurants and meet the locals. “What is in that package?” Andy asked, “It's the insurance policy for your wife’s health asshole, now quit the chatting and get on the road.  They are expecting you in a couple of hours, you call me when you are back in the States partner.” Frankie laughed. “In the meantime I will get to know your wife a little more fucker! Hurry up and don’t fuck up!”

Frankie sat on the couch next to Helen, “What are we going to do in the meantime cutie?” Helen turned around hiding her face from Frankie, “Nothing... just leave me alone!” she was getting more of a voice Frank noticed.  He grabbed by her hair firmly and turned her face towards him.  Her eyes started letting tears popped out. She was scared. “Now, we are partners, your hubby is helping my business...” he laughed hard. “At what time do we have to pick up your girls from school? Soon is going to be lunch time and I am feeling hungry. You never know what direction your day is going to take... funny... don’t you think?”

Charlie Moore Detective

The snowflakes are falling down like pieces of cotton.  They are falling slowly to the ground. It’s the perfect day to play outside and get wet.  I grab my nice pants and parka for skiing, I slip on my favourite pair of socks and rubber boots, grab the touque and gloves and ask Betty if she is in the mood to play with snow.  “I am not in the mood Charlie, ask Harold.  He likes to play outside when it’s cold and wet.  I prefer the warm.” Betty is not the type of spider that likes snow, she usually stays at home when I go skiing with my parents.

It’s a little late in the day and it won't be long until my Dad gets home.  Mom is cooking, as usual for this time of day. “Mom, I’m going out to play with Harold.” “Don’t be late and stay around here, Charlie. Dad will be home shortly for dinner.”  I’m running to the front door and Harold is chasing me.  We slam the door and run into the snow, sliding and jumping. It’s getting dark but with the huge white cotton flakes it doesn’t look too dark.  The street lights are giving off a yellow shine.  The sweet smell of cedar is flowing through the cool night air.

Jeremy and Jack who live across the street are also out making snowballs, and when they see us they start throwing snowballs at us. We avoid them by jutting from one side to the other.  I don’t like to fight.  I also don’t like to get hit by snowballs.  We run down the street, to where Margaret lives.  She’s out playing with the snow and a red plastic shovel. “Hi Margaret, what are you doing?” “Playing with the snow, I am making a castle for a princess.  Do you want to help me, Charlie Moore?” I look at Harold and ask him what he prefers to do, play with Margaret or get into a fight with the guys across the street. “I’d rather play with Margaret than fight with those kids. I would, however, like to go for a walk to the park and back.  Ask Margaret if she wants to come with us.” I’ve always liked how Harold talks, he is such a young pup yet he speaks to me like a grown up with a pipe in his mouth and a book in his hand.

“Harold would like to go to the park. Would you like to come with us?” “How do you know that Harold wants to do that?” she asks, as she gives me dirty looks with her hands crossed over her chest, typical, coming from her. Margaret is in my class.  She likes the desk in the front and she’s always lifting her hand to speak in class.  I sit in the middle-left hand side of the classroom, close to the windows to watch what’s going on outside.

“He just told me! So do you?”  She drops the shovel and crosses her arms and comes along with us.  We’re walking slowly over the slippery white carpet. “Now Charlie Moore, tell me how is it that you know what Harold wants.” I look at her proud of myself as Harold whispers “Charlie, watch out what you say to her.”

“I can talk to Harold,” I say, “Betty, my spider friend, told me that I could.” “Betty...? A spider friend of yours...? Come on Charlie Moore, have you been watching too much television?” I nodded, tilting my head sideways, like admitting something bad. “I can talk to Harold,” I repeat in a very quiet voice.

“Charlie, there's a man going into the Wood’s house,” Harold said.  I turned to look across the street.  Mr. and Mrs. Wood are a nice older couple that live on the other side of the street.  Sometimes they give me cookies that Mrs. Wood has baked, and they like to talk to me and give me small jobs and pay me with five dollar bills. They have gone to see their daughter for a couple of weeks, she lives in another town that I can’t remember the name. I saw the backyard door closing behind a shadow. “Margaret, somebody's going in the house across the street, we better go to check, are you coming?”

Margaret looked at me with a face like she couldn't believe it. “Come on Margaret, come with us,” I shout while crossing the street running. “Don’t make any noise Charlie,” Harold says. There were foot prints in the snow towards the Wood’s backyard door. I noticed Margaret following us at a safe distance. Walking with knees bent, so that we are closer to the ground, hidden, we reach the door.  It is  slightly open, enough for us to slide in.  Harold is in front of me, looking around with his ears pointed up. A noise of broking glass comes from the kitchen.  Harold turns to me, “Go for help, someone has broken into the house, I will start barking while you get some help, quickly Charlie, make lots of noise!”  Harold turns to the kitchen door and starts barking.

“Help! Help!" I shout at the top of my lungs.  "Someone is in the Wood’s house!”  Margaret jumps back, scared. “Go to tell your Mom," I command her, "someone has broken into the Wood’s home.  Call the police!” I run to the neighbour’s home and start knocking at the door and ringing the bell, Mr. Chang opens the door. “Mr. Chang, someone is breaking into the Wood’s house, I need help, call the police!” I say, having troubles breathing because of the excitement.  Margaret is at her house talking to her Mom and John Fraser.  Her dad is taking long steps towards the Wood’s.  Mr. Fraser is a pretty scary man, big, very big, I have always been a little afraid of him.

As soon as Mr. Chang sees Mr. Fraser walking towards the Wood’s house, he starts going there too.  Bridgett, her daughter who is also in our class comes out and watches from her door. Harold is still barking at the back of the house.  I run to Mr. Fraser who is reaching the Wood’s entrance.  “He is at the back,” I shout and run to the backyard door. Mr. Fraser runs behind me along with Mr. Chang.  Harold is tired of barking and barking at the door. Mr. Fraser passes me and goes into the Wood’s kitchen, turns the light on at the same time as  Mr. Chang is getting into the kitchen. I pick Harold up in my arms, “Thanks Charlie, I am so tired of barking and I'm cold.” He rubs his face in my chest.

A few minutes later Mr. Fraser drags a scruffy looking guy into the kitchen by his neck.  The scruffy guy looks shaken up and afraid.   “Look what I got here Charlie!” exclaims Mr. Fraser, looking at the scared burglar with his ogre.  “This one will never step foot in this neighbourhood again!” he shouts in the man’s ear.   Hearing that shout, Harold and I are scared too!  As we walk out to the backyard the blue lights of the police car shine over the fence.  A big policeman shows up in the backyard, takes the burglar and puts handcuffs on him.   They start talking amongst themselves, grown up things.  I ask  Mr. Fraser to fix the broken glass in the kitchen door.  He gives me the spooky looks and I run away home.

Running in the front door, I grab a towel from the basket beside the door and start drying Harold, “Mom! Mom! You have no idea what happened across the street, Harold saw a burglar breaking into the Wood’s house.  Mr. Fraser got him and the police are there now!”  Harold is dry now so I start taking off my ski clothes.  Ding...Dong...the doorbell rings.  I open the door and the big policeman is standing there. “Are you Charlie Moore?” he asks.

 “Yes I am and who are you?” I reply.

 “I'm Constable Prett.  I want you to tell me what happened at the Wood’s house tonight” he continued.

“Well...” I started, “I was walking with Harold and Margaret to the park when Harold told me that someone was going into the Wood’s backyard...”

“Who is Harold?” asked the Constable.

“Harold is my dog, Haaarold...” I called Harold to come.

“Nice dog,” the Constable said passing his huge hand over Harold’s head.

“OK, so Harold noticed someone going into the Wood’s house and you picked up on that?”

“No, he just told me that someone was going into the backyard of the Wood’s house.”

“Haaaaa...I get it, your dog can talk, is that right?”

“Exactly, he talks to me, can you hear him?” he gave me that grown up look that I see so often, how come they don’t get it. 

"Yes I can talk to Harold and almost all of the animals around," I added.

Mom was standing behind me and said to the Constable, “Charlie talks to Harold, do you understand?”

What a name, by the way, “Constable”.  I want to be a Constable when I grow up.  “Charlie talks to Harold, do you understand?” she repeated.  I knew they thought that they were talking in a grown up language that I didn't understand, wuuaa!  I get it and I understand that they have no imagination!

Charlie Downtown

It was Saturday after lunch when my parents took me downtown to look for a new place to live.   

“We are going to see open houses,” they told me.

 That's strange, I thought, open houses?  What does that mean?  The doors are open?  Houses can’t be open... what is this idea, open to what?  I don't always ask many questions, my dad gets upset really fast and I don’t like that.  I didn’t want to move, I was happy where I lived.  After a boring drive we arrived downtown.  It was horrible, full of tall buildings and people walking fast from one side to the other. Nothing nice about it, nothing like our neighbourhood.

Why did my parents want to live downtown?  It was a mystery to me.  I got my courage and asked, “Why do we want to live here? It doesn’t look nice to me.  Where am I going to play?  There is only super tall buildings and no yards at all!”  My dad was pulling me by the hand, he turned to me a little bothered and said, “You are growing fast and soon you would not like to pay in the yard, you are going to hang out with your friends and such, besides there is a nice park a couple of blocks that way for you to go with Harold and play ball,” giving me a not nice look.  We were walking really fast and I was having trouble keeping up.

We stopped at a huge building and after some ringing on the wall telephone we got in. I didn’t like the ride in the elevator. It was my first ride in an elevator.  It looked quite shiny and when the doors closed, I felt like I was trapped in a space shuttle. The smell of the elevator was new to me.  How can I describe this?  Metal, rubber and I don’t know what else, definitely elevator smells that worked perfectly with the sensation of the ride.  I felt climbing but couldn't see anything moving, it was a weird sensation.  I felt like I was going to throw up so I slipped my hand in my pocket and touched Betty, who was coming along.  As soon as I touched her fur, I felt relieved.  Betty wouldn't allow anything bad happening to me. The feeling changed suddenly, I felt light and then the elevator stopped.  The door opened silently and I walked out comforted.

We walked through a hallway to one of the doors, interesting, I thought, so many doors.  What are they all for?  My dad let my hand go and knocked on one of the doors.  The door opened and a loud man's voice that talked like a woman greeted us, I was pushed in first and ordered to take off my shoes.  I sat on the floor while my Mom and Dad were walking into the apartment leaving me at the entrance.  Will was the name of the man.  Mom told me that he was the agent.  I wondered what kind of agent he was, like a secret agent maybe?  The agent was wearing black from head to toe, and he looked like a vampire, with that long black coat and red scarf.  He was talking and talking, quite loud, showing this and that to my parents who looked speechless.  I took Betty out of my pocket to show her around, she had not had much fresh air since we left home.

I was very careful to hide Betty from my parents, especially Dad, they get aggravated when they see her. I went skating on the soft, smooth wooden floor of the apartment.  My warm wool socks were perfect for that, it was a good feeling, like skating.  Sometimes my parents would take me skating. I love skating, it is so much fun to go around and around as fast as I can.  Mom and Dad are the best in the world they can skate backwards, they hold hands and dance while going around the ice.  I follow them around and copy what they do.  Skating and skating I ended up in the living room where Will was showing every detail of the place and talking about how good the place was.  Boring, it’s just a boring place, cold, and no garden to play in.   I skated over to the window and Woooow!   Spooky, I was high up, I had never been that high in my life.  I stepped back fast, scared at first and then when I my heart slowed down I crept back to the window.  Wow! It was cool to look out from up here.  Everything looked so different.  I couldn’t wait to show Betty the view.  I took her out of my pocket and put her on the window sill. Betty had her eyes wide open, “this is high,” she said.  Will was talking and talking and moving his arms and hands like my Mom does, he was behind me with his loud funny voice and all of the sudden I heard him screaming, “Ayyyyyyyyy!” I turned around and saw Will grabbing his coat with both hands and putting it over his face.  He looked terrified!  He had seen Betty, who at the sound of the scream jumped up onto my shoulder. “Ayyyyyyy! A monster spider is on your son's shoulder!” he shouted as he ran away.  Both of my parents were astonished with the scene.  Backing up to the living room wall, they looked perplexed.

I was frightened by all the commotion.  I looked around to find the danger and Betty quickly climbed back into my pocket.  I looked at my parents whose faces had changed from surprise to anger. They tried to calm Will by filling him with apologies and nothing to worry abouts.  Will looked to be in disbelief. I quickly put my shoes back on and walked to the elevator.  Dad gave me the looks and Mom told me that I wasn't supposed to bring Betty.  I failed one more time to explain to them that I brought Betty for my protection.

We walked a few blocks and then stopped at another building.  I was getting used to the scenery. We climbed into an elevator again, this one was different.  It had nice shiny wood and golden trim, wow rich people must live here, they even have gold in the elevators! The smell was also different, a mixed smell of cigars, magazines and nice cologne, like the one my Dad’s boss wears. The ride up was pretty much the same, uncomfortable, my stomach was not feeling great. The hallways in this building were much wider and elegant, for sure only rich people lived here.  I will tell my friends that we are rich.

This time a woman agent opened the door, all of these agents must be rich too.  They dress so nicely and wear so much jewellery, they smell good and they are so friendly. She put her hands on my shoulders and said, “What a nice boy you are. You must be 8? Do you like toys? Come with me," she said, directing me down the hall without giving me time to answer.  My parents followed.  It was heaven, a room full of toys.  I looked around, I couldn’t believe it.  I grabbed a Tonka truck and started playing. “Keep Betty in your pocket,” whispered Mom, giving me a rub on the head. There was an airplane, a helicopter, baseball gloves...I wanted this place.  I couldn’t resist showing Betty this place, I looked over my shoulder, nobody around so I reached into my pocket for Betty.  We had a wonderful time in this place, checking this and that, I couldn’t decide what to play with, and I needed more like a week here. “Charlie Moore,” I heard my Mom call, “we are leaving, hurry up hun.” “Are we going to buy this place Dad? This place I like, it's the best”  The agent looked happy, and so did Mom and Dad. They thanked the woman agent and we left for another ride in the elevator.

“Are we buying this one Dad? Because I like it a lot!” I exclaimed.  Mom gave me that sweet look, “We are just looking hun.” I love my Mom, I held her soft hand. Everything here was much the same, a thought crossed my mind, what would happen if I got lost here? I wouldn’t know how to get home. We kept on walking, I was feeling tired and dizzy. After a few blocks we went into another building.  There was a bunch of people waiting for the elevator. One more time we jumped in. The elevator stopped and some people went down, I looked around to find Mom and my heart jumped in my chest.  Mom and Dad were not in the elevator. I stayed in the elevator until everybody got out, I wasn't afraid. The elevator went down on its own and at the first floor I got out.

I looked around for my parents, I still couldn't see them. How do I get home now? Nobody seemed to care that I was lost, people were walking all around me, not like at home where everybody knows me and asks me what I am doing.  Different!  I reached into my pocket and told Betty that we were lost.  “Nothing to worry about Charlie,” she said, “I know how to get there but it would be better if we find your parents first, they must be missing you.” It didn’t cross my mind that my parents would be missing me, I thought that they were only interested in looking at apartments.  Oh well, Betty must be right, let’s get back into the building and wait for them in the lobby.

I pushed the door and it didn’t open. I couldn't reach the enter phone, I was too short and I didn’t know the buzzer number. I looked around waiting for a miracle and there, the door made that electric noise and a man went in and so did I.  I followed him into the elevator. “Which floor are you going to young man?” he asked.  “I don’t know, I came with my Mom and Dad, they want to buy an apartment downtown.”  The elevator stopped and the man took me by the hand, “come with me, I’ll help you find your parents.  Let me first take my groceries inside and then I will help you.”  He looked like a nice man so I followed him in.  His apartment was different, it was dark and quiet.  There were piles of books laying everywhere. “Can I use your bathroom?” I asked.  “Of course, make yourself at home, I'll be ready in a minute and then I'll help you find your parents.”  I went to the bathroom, it was big and grey, piles of books there too.  It smelled nice, like books that smell nice.  I came out and the man was still busy in the kitchen.  I went to the living room and looked out the window at the scenery, it was fascinating. “I’m ready,” he said in a soft voice, “do you like to look out the window?”

“My name is Sylvester,” he said, “what is your name?” offering me his huge hand.  “I am Charlie Moore,” I said shaking his hand. “How come you have so many books all over your house?” “I like to read,” he said, grabbing his chin. “I like to read,” he repeated. “What else do you like?” I asked since he looked like a nice person. I sat down on a chair close to the window prepared to listen. “Well,” he said, “I like to write books, I like animals, birds, I like to fly...” “I like to fly too!” I burst out, “do you know I can fly? I can talk to animals too!” he looked at me intrigued. “Are you afraid of spiders?” I asked, “I have one in my pocket and I promise you she will not do anything to you.”  He looked at me with a sweet face and said, “Take it out.”  I got Betty out of my pocket and placed her on top of a pile of books on the coffee table in front of me. “Her name is Betty, she is from the Amazon.” Betty looked Sylvester and said, “he can’t hear me, he's a grown up, but he's a good man Charlie.” Sylvester was not afraid of Betty as most people are. “I always wanted to have a spider friend,” he said.  “Tell me more, how did you meet her?”

Sylvester was interested in Betty and my stories!  He stood up and said, “Charlie, we better look for your parents, they must be worried about you.  Betty jumped up onto my shoulder and crawled into my pocket as she always did. “Can I come to see you again Sylvester? I want to tell you about my adventures.” “For sure, let’s go find your parents,” he said.  We took the elevator down to the lobby, and there they were, Mom and Dad, talking to people nervously.  “Mom, Dad!” I shouted when I saw them and I ran to hug them. It wasn't that I missed them or that I was afraid, it was more for them because they looked afraid.  I grabbed Mom’s hand and said, “This is Sylvester, he's my friend and helped me find you.” Sylvester was standing with a nice smile.  Dad said thanks to Sylvester. “I want to come to see Sylvester again, can I come Mom?” “Of course Charlie,” she said with wet eyes and hugging me as usual.

On the way home, I told my parents that Sylvester was not afraid of Betty.  And also that he couldn't hear Betty speaking, just like them.  I was tired, I fell asleep in the car.

Oh Margaret!

The tires were screeching, blue smoke billowed from below the car as Frank took the corner as fast as he could.  Somebody in a red pickup truck was chasing him and gaining fast.   The black 1972 El Dorado was his baby.  He was wearing white, white suite, white shirt and white shoes.  He always dressed well and looked good!

Frankie was a dealer, since he finished high school and even before that.  As some say, he was selling dope.  He was a nice guy and that was why he did well.  He never got into trouble.  It was surprising that today, he was running away from someone who most likely, wanted to have more than a chat with him.

Frankie was a pretty good driver but in this part of the city he didn’t have much of a chance.  After a few more blocks Frankie realized that he was going nowhere and decided to stop the car to talk to the guy who was chasing him.  He stopped the car and jumped out leaving the door ajar.  The red pickup stopped 100 feet behind, a big guy rolled out carrying a shotgun is his left hand. He must have been 5’9” and 300 lb.  He was wearing a blue logging shirt with jeans and blue sneakers.

“Hands up,” he shouted while pointing the shotgun at Frankie, “come this way.”  Frankie started slowly walking towards the hulking guy.  Frankie had this funny way of walking like swinging the waist to the left.  His blond hair was dancing in the wind while his face was frozen, not afraid but no signs of life, he was staring at the gunman straight in the eyes.

“Do you know who I am?” asked the gunman, when Frankie was 30 feet away.

“No idea, what do you want from me?” returned Frankie.

“I am Margaret’s brother, you punk!” he bellowed jumping on top of Frankie.  He was too fast for Frankie.    Before he knew it, there was a storm of punches.  Soon Frankie’s legs gave way and he ended up on the ground, sore and bloodied from the punishment.

Facing the pavement, Frankie’s white suit was ripped and covered in the blood that was coming out of his mouth and cheeks. 

“Call me Mark,” said the ogre as he pulled Frankie up by the back of his white jacket.   

“I came to visit my little sister Margaret and I found an old address book and around your name there was a red circle.  Somebody called Margaret’s line, the person on the other end said to me that you were the cause of Margaret’s sadness and if I loved my sister I should beat the crap out of you...and that is what I am doing. He told me where to find you,” explained Mark.

“What have you done to my sister asshole?” he demanded, still holding tight to Frankie's jacket and giving him a good shake. Frankie’s face looked perplexed, he didn't understand what was going on.  Frankie moved gently and got loose from Mark.  He sat on the curb, grabbing his face, trying to put all the parts where they belonged.

“You got it all wrong Mark, I don’t know who called you and for what reason.  Margaret is my fiancée and we're getting married in September.  We haven’t had a fight. How come you didn’t ask her?” Frankie reasoned, holding his hurting face.  Mark was standing right in front of him looking down at him. He passed his hand over his head, scratching his scalp for a moment. 

“What are you saying?" he mumbled. He leaned over to Frankie, grabbed his arm and helped him up.

Frankie was dirty, bloody and beat up.  He looked like a windy hot summer day!

“You don’t look like a bad guy,” said Mark as he helped Frankie walk to his car.

 “I didn’t know...I'm taking you to Margaret to check the story. Follow me, I’ll buy flowers for you to give to Margaret.”

“She likes roses,” Frankie said while lowering himself into the car with difficulty. 

“Red roses,” he added.

  They drove slowly to where Margaret worked, she was a clerk at the hardwood store.

Mark got the roses.

“You wait for me here Frankie, I’m going to get Margaret, tidy up," he said with a friendly look.   He passed the roses and a bottle of water to Frankie, and then turned and walked towards the store.  As soon as Mark entered the store, Frankie turned the ignition of the black Cadillac and pushed the throttle all the way.  The tires started screaming, smoke trailed as the heavy Cadillac started rolling faster and faster with ease.

“Catch me if you can moron!” Frankie howled while flying away in his black Cadillac.

Trip in a balloon.

Jesse, Marion and I were wandering in the fields behind Mr. Robertson’s. The gentle slopes were perfect for a Sunday morning walk and enjoying the company of my best friends. The fields were covered in short green vegetation dancing with the breeze’s compass, scattered trees and a bunch of white cotton clouds in the blue sky. The soft wind whispering in our ears and the smell of a fresh day and the tweeting of the birds completed the symphony.

We were talking about school and other light subjects, we were in grade eight, my eyes were delighted when I saw a hot air balloon blown full up not too far from us.  Before we knew it, we were running in that direction, screaming “Balloon!”  We were running with our hands in the air, simulating wings and pretending to fly.  It didn’t take long to get to where the balloon was.

Excitement was all over our faces when we arrived at the open field.  The balloon was light blue with pink, purple and black vertical stripes shapes. My heart was beating quickly from running and from seeing the majestic balloon rising in the air.  Three men were around the balloon, preparing themselves for the trip.  They were wearing leather jackets and leather tuques, like old pilots.  One of them was working the flame, starting and stopping it at regular intervals the others were working on arranging some boxes they had close by.

Slowly we got closer and closer, until they noticed us.  “Hi” we said at the same time, “Where’s you going?” Jesse asked them. The man who was working the flame said “We are going for a raid today, we are going South, the wind will takes us South”. In my mind I was wondering how we could ask them to give us a ride. “How many people can the balloon carry?” I asked.  We were getting close to the basket and we could smell the burned gas and the peculiar mix of hot air and the nylon fabric from the balloon.  As we got even closer, we leaned over the wicker basket, its texture was smooth and hard and it had a woven texture that my fingers wanted to follow.

“How many?” I asked again. “Just three,” the man said in a deep voice. As the balloon was getting more and more hot air, it was wanting to climb. “Kids,” he said “would you like to help us?” we looked at each other smiling “yes” in a chorus. “OK.  Climb in and help me keep the heat going while I help my friends finalize what they are doing, climb in.  And you,” he said looking at me “you pull this rope every one minute”. Before he was even finished talking, we were rushing into the basket and taking our positions.  The man smiled at us and walked over to help his friends.

Without thinking we untied the three ropes that were holding the balloon to the floor and the balloon jumped gently up. I pulled the rope and held it for a while and the balloon pulled us up even faster, the soft breeze was pushing us away slowly from the three men. We were flying.