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B is for Bus

“What are you going to be doing at Franklin, James?” The bus driver asked as he pulled away from the stop and continued down the busy city street.

“I’m going to a job interview.” James about burst when he said those words. He hadn’t told his parents; the music teacher at the school had arranged it. “I might not get the job. Mr. Hammer told me that. Me getting the job will be all me or not me. And he said it okay for me not to get the job because only one in forty people get the job for stuff like this even with an interview, but someone has to get the job so I should try the interview. I got to play my best. If I am good enough, they will make me a session musician. I can do music and not have to play for crowds and I can maybe have a real job instead of being permanently and totally disabled and being a useless drain on society who would have been better off being left in the woods for wolves to eat.”

The bus driver gripped the steering wheel tighter, while the woman who had moved to the seat behind James’ normal seat winced. Mr. Krick cleared his throat, glancing up at the interior mirror and seeing James staring at his tablet again and nodding in time with the music running to his earbuds. “Good luck on the interview, James.”

James didn’t respond, not sure how to act. He thought he may have said too many words. Mom always told him not to talk too much, unless she was trying to get him to talk. He never was sure which he should do, talk or not talk. Listening to music and watching the screen, he rocked his body to the beat and waited for the alarm to let him know when it was time to change buses.

People got on and off. Some looked at him like he was diseased and shouldn’t be out in public while others familiar with him having been on the route for a while smiled at him. A few ignored the front seat passenger in the anonymity of the flood of humanity in the city.

***

Standing in front of 439 West Franklin Avenue, James breathed his mantra “Adapt. Improvise. Overcome.” He had made it nearly forty-five minutes through the transportation system, to arrive the required fifteen minutes early the music teacher had said was needed when going to a job interview. All on his own. He touched the message center on his tablet and sent the premade text to Mr. Hammer letting him know he had arrived at the recording studio.

“Go through the doors.” was written on the screen as the next step. Mr. Hammer and James’ in-school counselor had sweated over the instructions with James, making sure they didn’t miss anything. From the time he had woke up this morning until now, every step had been written. Showering, dressing, eating breakfast. Mr. Hammer and Miss Grace understood this was James’ real graduation ceremony. If he could do this, he may be able to convince his parents he could live in a group home instead of depending on them for the rest of his life.

Also his sisters, Barbara and Dorthy, needed to know they didn’t need to worry about him. They had their own kids to take care of. James had been a late in life surprise to his parents, with his two sisters already in high school when he came along and changed everything. They didn’t need to be his caretakers even if they were willing to help.

 

A to Z Short Story List Breakdown

Rainbow Spectrum (A to F)

4/1/2019 – A is for Adapt
4/2/2019 – B is for Bus
4/3/2019 – C is for Courage
4/4/2019 – D is for Duke
4/5/2019 – E is for Eclectic
4/6/2019 – F is for Finish

A is for Adapt

Adapt. Improvise. Overcome.

His life mantra. Every move he made. Every time he left the house. Every interaction. The spectrum challenged every task he did with people, but he refused to hide behind his parent’s helicopter ways.

He turned eighteen in January and graduated high school in June. For real graduated, not just a paper pass, James made sure of that. His unique method of looking at the world, hearing it, seeing it, gave him certain masteries – an easy out with math, while denying him the ability to function in crowds or interact with people. But he could work around his problems – it took a lot of effort, more than he could put together all the time, but he could put it together something enough of the time that mountains could be climbed.

Staring at his tablet, James adjusted the strap of the case he slung across his back and followed preprogrammed instructions to the bus stop. Once arriving, he stayed focus on the tablet, waiting for the bus, listening to the calming music he chose for today’s overcome-ing through earbuds. He didn’t lift his eyes when the bus hissed to a stop, nodding when the wifi verified the correct bus had arrived.

The first step off the sidewalk and into an enclosed space with strangers nearly undid him, until the city bus driver who had taken him to school broke through the haze, “Hey, James. Good to see you man.”

The same words said every day for the last two years recentered him and pulled back the crash. “Thank you Mr. Krick, it’s good to see you too.” The three steps up the stairs flowed naturally.

“Where is your mom?”

A new question. “Adapt. Improvise. Overcome.” James said out loud before sitting behind the driver, a regular passenger moving from the seat without James noticing, except he noticed. He wished he knew how to thank the lady. “My mom is at work.”

The bus driver closed the doors. “Good for her.” As Mr. Krick pulled away from the curb, checking all his mirror, he asked another question which took James a moment to processed. He had to look at his tablet before he reheard the words. All the cars moving in the city traffic had distracted him.

“Where are you going?”

James studied the screen. The words he needed were there. “439 West Franklin Avenue,” he read off the screen.

“That isn’t on my route, James.” The driver pulled to the curb, opening the door and nodding as people got on and off.

“Connection. I am to take the connection at Luther Blvd to the blue line. It says here.” Franklin leaned forward even more, since he couldn’t lean back with the case, and showed Mr. Krick the tablet.

The bus driver very carefully looked at the screen, without touching it or looking James in the eye. “Oh, you got our new app. Yeah, the blue line will take you to Franklin. Thank you for showing me.”

More routine words. James was grateful Mr. Krick was working. He knew when he heard those words, he should take the tablet back. No need to guess when things needed to change. Mr. Krick was one of his favorite people.

 

A to Z Short Story List Breakdown

Rainbow Spectrum (A to F)

4/1/2019 – A is for Adapt
4/2/2019 – B is for Bus
4/3/2019 – C is for Courage
4/4/2019 – D is for Duke
4/5/2019 – E is for Eclectic
4/6/2019 – F is for Finish

Flash: Copenhagen Blue

Image courtesy of David Castillo Dominici at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Aksel opened the inner sanctum, and Jeffrey dropped his bags inside the door before crossing the room to Amanda’s desk. Her dark eyes lit up seeing him come in. “You made it!”

“Like anything could stop me, sweet cheeks.” Jeffrey kissed her quickly on the lips, not giving her time to maneuver out of the chair.

“I thought they weren’t going to give you time off.”

“Yep. But, cool fact: when you offer to quit, they change their tune.” Jeffrey sat on the edge of the desk to stare down at his very pregnant not-girlfriend. “I’ve spent the last three days training interns.” He reached out to stroke a chubby cheek. “Now, as much as I want to play catchup, when I turned on the international phone after the plane landed, text messages started exploding. Do you have that room for me?”

Two more vibration-related pings shook his carry-on bag by the door, supporting his comment.

“Aksel?” Amanda looked toward her executive assistant. Next came a group of sounds out of her mouth Jeffrey assumed were either Danish or German, the more common languages for the Copenhagen office. If he remembered right, she spoke both of them fluently as well as English and had several more under her belt.

The white man in the expensive gray suit who guarded her door picked up the larger of his two bags. “If you would follow me?”

“And point out the bathroom if you can, that way I won’t need to bother you about anything else.” Jeffrey looked over his shoulder as he exited the room. “I promised to get back to you as soon as I figure out how to walk Intern Two through whatever they did back in Utah.”

A gentle smile crossed Amanda’s lips. “What happened to Intern One?”

“Hopefully a jettison into orbit. Because that guy had no Earthly reason for being hired.” Giving her a final wave, he said “Love you.” As the door clicked closed, Jeffrey flinced. He wasn’t suppose to say that, ever. She didn’t want love and its trappings; it didn’t matter if his feelings had evolved over the last nine months.

***

“Did you work through the night?”

Jeffrey jerked awake at the question, his tight curls on the left side smashed flat. “Night, day. Things are kind-of confused right now.”

“Well, why don’t you log off and go to your hotel.” Rubbing her belly, Amanda winced slightly before moving over to one of the work surface to half-sit. Getting up required a production clearly making her reluctant to sit unless she was staying for a while. She took a sip from the mug he had sent her.

“That would assume there is a hotel somewhere.” Jeffrey slapped his cheeks a couple of times. “Please tell me that is coffee.”

“Nope, decaf tea.” Amanda snarled. “Can’t have caffeine because of the baby. But you can find some coffee and strong tea down the hall.”

“Right. I remember that. Sorry.”

“Apologize to Aksel. He has had to deal with me for seven months with no caffeine.” Amanda frowned at the colored water before setting it aside. “What happened with the hotel?”

“Didn’t remake arrangements when the company jerked around my leaving time, again.” Standing, Jeffrey stretched, his hands touching the dropped ceiling. “Totally forgot about it after the second or third flight change.” He walked over and placed his hand either side of her belly. “Sorry, I couldn’t get here sooner.”

She shrugged, lifting the specially tailored jacket, “It’s more important for you to get the time off after the holidays when you have her to yourself.”

“Working full-time here is going to suck, but at least you have maternity leave.”

Amanda winced, then moved Jeffrey’s hands over the movement. His white teeth gleamed against his black skin as a smile took over his face. “Had to take it for the nursing. Breaking from meetings would have been too much during the first two months. I don’t like it, but I agree it has too many beneficial effects not to do try. Though who knows if my milk will come in.”

“You should take as least a month to recover even then.” Jeffrey stroked the hair she had pulled tightly back into a bun. “And after two months, it’s holiday season, so we can pop back to America while you get a third month of recovery. The paternity leave is already in place for when you have to go back.”

“Nearly four months of baby and parents one-on-one. Not bad for an American company.”

“Yep, so what is the normal here in Denmark?”

“Fifty-two week,” Amanda reported drolly.

He laughed. “HQ would die if you took off that much maternity.”

“It’s 52-weeks for either the mother or father, or if they want equal time, 26 weeks.”

Looking up from where he had been contemplating her belly, Jeffrey appeared truly shocked. “Half a year of paternity leave?”

“Or a full year, depends who in the couple has the maternity genes.”

“That would be me.”

“Exactly.”

She smiled up at him, that gentle smile which had never existed before her sixth month of pregnancy. Jeffrey wondered if the gentle Madonna smile will disappear with the baby fat once she gave birth. While he missed the shark smile and full-on barracuda attitude, he had grown fond of this new side during their long-distance communications.

“I promise I will take good care of Amanda Junior.”

She laughed, “You really are going to name her Amanda Maria Hall Junior?”

“Or the Second. If it had been a boy, I would have been required to name him Jeffrey Taylor Reid the Fourth.” Jeffrey darted in for a quick kiss. “So, which do you prefer, Junior or the Second?”

“The Second. Junior will have too many questions, I rather not do that to her.” She picked up the mug for a final sip to take it to the ‘Another cup’ level. “I can’t imagine having a family history so strong names are written in stone before the children are conceived.”

“That’s just because you are an only child of only children, Mistress Troglodyte. We gods have large extended families.” Jeffrey noticed her wince again when she set aside the empty mug. There had been no matching kick under his hands. He reached up to touch her face. “Are you okay?”

“Just a touch of indigestion.” Amanda muttered in annoyance.

“Right, so how far apart is the indigestion?”

The barracuda returned instantly, pushing him away. “Not you too. I’m not going into labor. Hell, the baby isn’t due for another two days.” She waddled with purpose to the door.

“Hey, wait.” Jeffrey grabbed Amanda’s arm. “Tell you what, why don’t I monitor your indigestion?”

She tilted her head while looking up at him, her eyes narrowing. “How?”

“There is an app. Let me download it, and you hit it every time your indigestion strikes.”

“I got a contract negation in,” Amanda looked at her watch, “an hour. I’m not leaving until it is complete.”

“How far do the contractions need to be?”

“The doctor wants me to come in when they are five to seven minutes apart.”

“So I will wait until then.” Jeffrey put out his hand for her phone, and she let him have it. “But this way you don’t have to keep track of the timing. I can do that.” With a few swipes, he uploaded an app and showed her how to use it. The app suggested using it to keep track of compliments in a day to raise self-esteem, work tasks completed, or even laps around a small track.

***

“It’s time.” Jeffrey said frowning from the office doorway, his voice creaky from a very, very long day. Aksel rounded around him, talking one of the freaky languages everyone around here spoke. Jeff probably upset him by strolling past the guard hound’s desk without stopping.

Amanda let out an answering stream, addressing whatever issues Aksel raised before responding to him. “I’m fine. The office closes in an hour. We can leave then.”

“Askel, what is rush hour like here?” Jeffrey pegged the smaller man with his dark eyes.

“Rush hour, Mr. Reid?” Aksel frowned a moment, translating in his head, before muttering. “Myldretid.  Ah, it is, bad. About one hour using the Metro. Ms. Hall usually works through it and heads home about seven.”

“And when do you leave?”

“About half an hour before her.”

“Excuse me, I’m still right here.”

Jeffrey rounded on the high level manager. “But not for long. Do you really want to go into hard labor on the Metro during rush hour?”

“No.” Amanda blinked at the sudden shift from Jeffrey’s normal laid back demeanor. “But we got the contract to do, plus I need to get everything ready if this really is labor and not a false alarm.”

“Right.” Jeffrey nodded to Aksel. “What does Amanda need to have done for the next three days that no one else can do?”

Aksel walked quickly to Amanda’s desk and pulled out several sheets of paper, plus one large clipped pile. “Ms. Hall, please read and sign these. The team can take care of everything else.” He gathered the rest of the items on her desk into a pile and removed them.

“But-”

Placing the pile on a credenza under the office window, Aksel interrupted. “My wife went into labor three weeks early with Josefine. I’ve made sure everything has been ready, just in case, for months.”

She looked from one male to the other.

“You have three contractions to finish that, then we are out of here.” Jeffrey’s flat voice brooked no argument.

“Men,” hissed through Amanda’s lips before she started concentrating on the papers and new contract.

Jeffrey came over to stand by Aksel. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

“Could you program into my phone how to get to the hospital from here?” Jeffrey offered the international phone the company provided for his travels.

Aksel quickly opened it up to the Metro app Jeffrey had downloaded on arrival. “Shall I also put in how to get from the hospital to her quarters?”

“That would be great.” Jeffrey leaned against the wall while Aksel entered the information. Exhaustion batted around his mind like a cat playing with a mouse. He had maybe three hours sleep in the last twenty-four. The plane ride out came with non-stop sleep, but that only made up for the abuse he had done training the interns and getting everything at home ready for this trip. Adrenaline would make up for the lack of rest, he hoped. “I’ll be back to pick up my luggage when I know she is okay.”

Intet problem, I have the key and can drop your bags off on my way home tonight.” Aksel handed back the phone. “I’ve entered my number. Please text me when the baby is born. Everyone is going to want to know, and I can send out the announcement. Now if you excuse me, I arrange for one of the guards to escort you. We all are very proud of Ms. Hall.”

“I’ll pack up my stuff.” Jeffrey looked at Amanda, feeling her heckles continue to raise even from as far away as he was as others took control her life, and he knew the only reason while Askel and he hadn’t been eviscerated was she knew they were right. “I’ll be back in seven minutes. We are leaving then.”

(words 1,911 – first published 3/31/2019)

 

The complete Red Mug series:
3/17/19 – Red Mug
3/24/19 – Green Cheeks
3/31/19 – Copenhagen Blue
4/7/19 – Clear Glass
4/14/19 – Gold Bands

Other Cool Blogs: Cracked 4/10/2017

Image provided by the Internet hive mind via iFunny.com

James Burtoft assembled The 5 Most Disastrous Typos in Human History for Cracked.

Everything from a comma instead of a hyphen costing the American government the modern equivalent of $40 million dollars during the Civil War to changing a medical term from Patient O (as in Oh, for Outside the area being examined) to Patient Zero.

And that list doesn’t event include “A court’s decision in a Maine labor dispute hinged on the absence of an Oxford comma“ I previously mentioned in my April 11, 2017 Editing Rant.

You can see the whole article here: http://www.cracked.com/article_24628_the-5-most-disastrous-typos-in-human-history.html

Just so you know, good editing saves civilization.

Writing Exercise: Let’s Do This Part 3

Image courtesy of the Internet

The writing habit must be developed like all healthy habits. In January and February, we explored various writing techniques to find a habit that works for you (and me). So far I’ve bombed out, but maybe you have found a good match.

For the last month of figuring out how to write Consistently and with Commitment, I thought I would return to the basics. Word Count versus Time in Chair. BIC is getting in the chair consistently so writing can occur; time in chair is essential.  Word Count is about getting words on paper; can’t sell product without words.

Time in Chair works well for some people treating writing like a job. Come home from eight hours of work and do two hours with pen and paper. Time in Chair is perfect when between dayjobs to keep that day-in day-out mindset of time in front of a computer.

Word Count is good for those who do metrics. 2,500 words for a chapter, 30,000 words for an act, and 90,000 words for a book. Watching those numbers climb to a sellable product can be a reward in and of itself. You can spend hours playing with the resulting numbers (don’t – you should be writing, not doing math – so speaks the voice of experience).

Fifth. Timed writing. This one is related to writing dates and word sprints, if those techniques worked well for you, this might be perfect. These could be scheduling particular times so you show up for BIC. It could be randomly writing, but timing the minutes until your meet your BIC time for the month. If you are counting your time to reach a goal – for example 40 hours in a month (a minor second job) – using the timer on your phone I mentioned in January could be good. You can also use kitchen timers (either on the microwave or a wind-up).

Many writers just promise themselves 15 to 30 minutes per day to sit in the chair. If the words don’t come, they get up and do something else. An hourglass could work for these situations – you may work beyond the sands running out, but you need to remain at the keyboard until then. If things are going well with your timed writing, once the alarm goes off, just continue typing. In general setting aside an hour works best for most people, but with giving themselves permission to leave after 15 minutes if words aren’t happening that day.

Goals for timed writing are usually stuff like an hour a day or three hours on weekends. When testing this out, figure out what your normal time segment for writing is and aim for that range.

Sixth. Word Count. This one seems to be the favorite of professional writers with contracts to meet. They show up in their chairs like a dayjob – 8 to 5, but also consider word counts to meet their deadlines. Like with Timed Writing, the object is to start and then keep going once you passed your minimum or to stop if the words aren’t flowing (and for professionals, we aren’t talking smooth flowing, we are talking the faucet is frozen and forcing it will break the plumbing permanently – for people learning to write, the process is much more forgiving).

The “Five Hundred Club”  is one approach with this method – 500 words per day (related to every.single.day). For others, it is the “Mile High Club”, 5,280 words in a month which could be just two productive weekends when the kids are dropped off at the ex’es house. Like timing, you should see how words flow out of you. Don’t set a 1,000 word goal you’ve never written that much before. Some people do “50-50 Club”, they write 50 words and hope for 50-more. If only 50 words get written, they are okay – but sometimes they keep the 50-more going until they hit in the thousands words.

WRITING EXERCISE: Try one of the two techniques.

(A) Timed Writing – Decide how many hours of writing you will do in one week. Break this between the days however you want. Example: an hour a day, or three hours a day on the weekend, or 6 hours by the end of the week.

(B) Word Count – Choose either a daily word count goal or a week’s goal. Practice for one week.

Evaluate. Did you ENJOY the technique you tried? Did you feel COMMITTED while working on it? Did you PRODUCE a good product? (note – good product is a first draft you can edit later, not a finished product worthy of publication)

***

My Attempts

Timed Writing – This doesn’t work for me. My daily schedule changes all the time – setting aside “6-8 in the evenings” or “8-10 in the mornings” always lasts a single day at best. I tried just doing BIC with a timer, my phone, eyeballing it on my computer, even hourglasses. I have some really pretty hourglasses on my mantle now gathering dust.

Word Count – The Five Hundred Club! I found something that works for me at last. I’ve tried in 2018 before and it fell by the wayside. I’m trying it again and I have failed the 500 words per day, but I am forgiving myself when it doesn’t come. But, like yesterday, when I just didn’t get to it until the end of the day I was able to do BIC and NOT hate myself … and I got 1,000 words out.

I know I will fail again, but not enough to offset the pure amount of wins. So many wins this year so far. This one works for me.

Please comment below if you found one which worked for you OR suggestions of your own for writing exercises to create a writing habit.