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Adelaide Literary Magazine is an independent international monthly publication, based in New York and Lisbon. Founded by Stevan V. Nikolic and Adelaide Franco Nikolic in 2015, the magazine’s aim is to publish quality poetry, fiction, nonfiction, artwork, and photography, as well as interviews, articles, and book reviews, written in English and Portuguese. We seek to publish outstanding literary fiction, nonfiction, and poetry, and to promote the writers we publish, helping both new, emerging, and established authors reach a wider literary audience.
A Revista Literária Adelaide é uma publicação mensal internacional e independente, localizada em Nova Iorque e Lisboa. Fundada por Stevan V. Nikolic e Adelaide Franco Nikolic em 2015, o objectivo da revista é publicar poesia, ficção, não-ficção, arte e fotografia de qualidade assim como entrevistas, artigos e críticas literárias, escritas em inglês e português. Pretendemos publicar ficção, não-ficção e poesia excepcionais assim como promover os escritores que publicamos, ajudando os autores novos e emergentes a atingir uma audiência literária mais vasta. (http://adelaidemagazine.org)

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Published by ADELAIDE BOOKS, 2020-09-03 10:48:39

Adelaide Literary Magazine No. 37, June 2020

Adelaide Literary Magazine is an independent international monthly publication, based in New York and Lisbon. Founded by Stevan V. Nikolic and Adelaide Franco Nikolic in 2015, the magazine’s aim is to publish quality poetry, fiction, nonfiction, artwork, and photography, as well as interviews, articles, and book reviews, written in English and Portuguese. We seek to publish outstanding literary fiction, nonfiction, and poetry, and to promote the writers we publish, helping both new, emerging, and established authors reach a wider literary audience.
A Revista Literária Adelaide é uma publicação mensal internacional e independente, localizada em Nova Iorque e Lisboa. Fundada por Stevan V. Nikolic e Adelaide Franco Nikolic em 2015, o objectivo da revista é publicar poesia, ficção, não-ficção, arte e fotografia de qualidade assim como entrevistas, artigos e críticas literárias, escritas em inglês e português. Pretendemos publicar ficção, não-ficção e poesia excepcionais assim como promover os escritores que publicamos, ajudando os autores novos e emergentes a atingir uma audiência literária mais vasta. (http://adelaidemagazine.org)

Keywords: fiction,nonfiction,poetry

INDEPENDENT REVISTA
MONTHLY LITERÁRIA
LITERARY INDEPENDENTE
MAGAZINE
MENSAL

ADELAIDE FOUNDERS / FUNDADORES
Stevan V. Nikolic & Adelaide Franco Nikolic
Independent Monthly Literary Magazine
Revista Literária Independente Mensal EDITOR IN CHIEF / EDITOR-CHEFE
Year V, Number 37, June 2019 Stevan V. Nikolic
Ano V, Número 37, Junho 2019
[email protected]
ISBN: 978-1-952570-86-5
MANAGING DIRECTOR / DIRECTORA EXECUTIVA
Adelaide Literary Magazine is an independent inter- Adelaide Franco Nikolic
national monthly publication, based in New York and
Lisbon. Founded by Stevan V. Nikolic and Adelaide Franco GRAPHIC & WEB DESIGN
Nikolic in 2015, the magazine’s aim is to publish quality Adelaide Books LLC, New York
poetry, fiction, nonfiction, artwork, and photography, as
well as interviews, articles, and book reviews, written in CONTRIBUTING AUTHORS IN THIS ISSUE
English and Portuguese. We seek to publish outstanding
literary fiction, nonfic-tion, and poetry, and to promote Jeff Dosser, Mehreen Ahmed,
the writers we publish, helping both new, emerging, and Sean Fisher, Jim Bolone, Ed Nichols,
established authors reach a wider literary audience.
Richard Selwyn, J.P. Johnson,
A Revista Literária Adelaide é uma publicação men- Robert Gamer, Nageen Rather,
sal internacional e independente, localizada em Nova
Iorque e Lisboa. Fundada por Stevan V. Nikolic e Ade- Ruth Deming, Guy Preston,
laide Franco Nikolic em 2015, o objectivo da revista é Frannie Gilbertson, Ted Larsen,
publicar poesia, ficção, não-ficção, arte e fotografia de Susie Gharib, Alan Berger, Giusi Rotondo,
qualidade assim como entrevistas, artigos e críticas Tanya E. E. E. Schmid, Britt MacKenzie-Dale,
literárias, escritas em inglês e por-tuguês. Pretendemos Orman Day, Hussein Alkadhim,
publicar ficção, não-ficção e poesia excepcionais assim Jonathan Vollinger, Glynn Germany,
como promover os escritores que publicamos, ajudan- Adam Hofbauer, McKenzie Fletcher,
do os autores novos e emergentes a atingir uma audiên- Taylor Boughnou, Bob Kelsoe,
cia literária mais vasta. Trainer, Scot, Jason Wright, Korkut Onaran,
Anna.S Kapung, Terry Brinkman, Lee
(http://adelaidemagazine.org) Triplett, Thomas Cook, Daniel Cureton,
YIN Xiaoyuan, Edward Bonner, Alan Berger,
Published by: Adelaide Books, New York Nardine Saric, Alan Cohen, Milton Ehrlich,
244 Fifth Avenue, Suite D27 Suzanne Graeber, Jose Manuel SÁNCHEZ,
New York NY, 10001
e-mail: [email protected] Rhienna Renée guedry
phone: (917) 477 8984
http://adelaidebooks.org

Copyright © 2020 by Adelaide Literary Magazine

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be
reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written
permission from the Adelaide Literary Maga-zine
Editor-in-chief, except in the case of brief quo-tations
embodied in critical articles and reviews.

CONTENTS / CONTEÚDOS 7513 STEADMAN ST.
by Hussein Alkadhim 95
FICTION REMEMBER HOW WE WERE
by Jonathan Vollinger 98
COMFORTING LIES WHAT ARE FRIENDS FOR?
by Jeff Dosser 7 by Glynn Germany 103
NO SHOWING
RAIN AND COFFEE by Adam Hofbauer 110
by Mehreen Ahmed 13
NONFICTION
THE SHORESIDE YELLOW BATH TOWELS
by Sean Fisher 21 by McKenzie Fletcher 121
A RIVER’S VIEW
LIKE DESCRIBING COLOR (A Brief Look Into Myself) 124
TO A BLIND PERSON by T. M. Boughnou 124
by Jim Bolone 23 CROSSING THE GORGE
by Bob Kelsoe 130
SAVING THE PICTURE SHOW BATMAN DOESN’T FLY…HE GLIDES
by Ed Nichols 26 by Scott Trainer 134

MISSING POETRY
by J.P. Johnson 30 JOKER
by Jason Wright 141
ZANZIBAR THE NARRATOR AND THE POET
by Robert Gamer 42 by Korkut Onaran 146
SILENCE
THE DYER’S DAY OUT by Anna.S Kapung 149
by Nageen Rather 45 MATTER OF LYING
by Terry Brinkman 151
TOGETHER AT LAST THE FIG SONNET
by Ruth Deming 55 by Margaret Lee Triplett 153
BUTTERNUT
TART by Thomas Cook 157
by Guy Preston 59 SOUTHWEST
by Daniel Cureton 159
BLACK LOVE
by Frannie Gilbertson 62 3

WAVING AT STEVIE WONDER
by Ted R. Larsen 68

PEBBLES
by Susie Gharib 74

TAKEN FROM THIS WORLD
by Alan Berger 77

THE PURPOSE OF LIFE
by Giusi Rotondo 82

WAIT THREE MINUTES
by Tanya E. E. E. Schmid 86

WHICH MARY?
by Orman Day 88

Adelaide Literary Magazine
CORRENTE ALTERNADA,
TURBULENTA OU SERENA
by Yin Xiaoyuan
translated by Manoel Herzog 166
TWO LOVERS MEET
by Edward Bonner 176
FOOTPRINTS ON THE HORIZON
by Nardine Sanderson 180
DUMB BLONDE
by Alan Cohen 189
HANDS
by Milton Ehrlich 199
MALPENES PUXARRA CÓSMICU
by Jose Manuel SÁNCHEZ 201
NATURE’S FAN
by Rhienna Renée Guedry 204

4

FICTION



COMFORTING LIES

by Jeff Dosser

Darkness fell outside DeMichael’s window, rising steam and the sharp-edged shadows
his curtains rippling with the final exhala- painted by the kitchen’s anemic yellow bulb.
tions of a humid summer day. With a sigh, Engaged in her elaborate dance of cooking,
he jammed his copy of NBA 2K12 into his she swayed to the clatter of pans, twirled
Xbox wishing, his mother could afford a from spice cabinet to fridge as her partner
gaming system that wasn’t nearly as old simmered in meaty richness before her.
as he was. Feet propped on his dresser, he
lounged on his bed clicking up the com- “I need ya ta run on down ta the store an’
mands to start the game and fantasizing get me some butter an’ eggs,” she said. “I
about unwrapping an Xbox One at his up- can’t finish without em’.”
coming twelfth birthday part.
DeMichael’s eyes sprang to the open
“DeMichael.” His mother called from the balcony door, his heart quickening to the
kitchen. “DeMichael Ray, get in here right thrumming beat beyond. Outside, lay a
now.” sea of adventure; the darkness filled with
danger and pleasures beyond boyish imag-
DeMichael peeled himself from the ining. Many of his less well parented friends
sweaty dampness of his sheets and saun- were out on the quad even now. He could
tered into the hall. The home he and his hear their boisterous cries as they raced
mother shared was one of eight on the third between the buildings shouting out their
floor of Tamarack Village apartments. Each exuberance to the cooling night air.
cramped two bedroom equipped with simi-
larly scratched appliances, each identical to His mother clicked off the burners and
its neighbor down to the threadbare tan car- crossed her arms eying him as if she could
pets, paper thin walls, and legion of roaches read his thoughts. “An’ don’t even think
who rallied with a vengeance each time they ‘bout takin’ more’n twenty minutes ta get
were poisoned, trapped, or sprayed. Step- there an’ back. I know ‘xactly what kinda
ping into a dining room, more a definition of sinfulness take place ‘round here. Specially
floor covering than space, he leaned on the after dark.”
counter and looked to his mom.
She lifted her cigarette from the ashtray
“Watch’ya need, Mama?” where it lay unspooling its fine gray filament
and fitted it to her lips.
DeMichael’s mother towered over
the stove her round features shrouded in “They ain’t nothing good goin’ on out
there.” She leveled her finger at DeMichael

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

and scowled. “But by the same token, you “I will, Mama,” he said, and slammed the
gonna be in the fifth grade this comin’ fall. door behind him.
It’s high time ya started helpin’ out.”
DeMichael sped to the stairs at the end
The cigarette’s cherry glow flared like a of the hall holding his breath against the
bright angry eye as she considered. “Maybe, stale urine stink of the second-floor landing
you too young after all,” she said finally. Her and catapulting himself the final dozen
eyes darted to the kitchen table, then she steps to the first floor. His sneakers smacked
leaned over and peered into the living room. the carpeted floor with a satisfying and rub-
“Where’s my purse? Maybe I outta call your bery phlat. Then taking a deep breath, he
auntie Shirl. Have her come an’ watch ya ground open the front door and stepped
while I run over there myself.” into the welcoming embrace of a steamy
Oklahoma night.
DeMichael couldn’t stand the thought
of Shirley coming to watch him. He wasn’t Beneath the sodium flare of security
a baby, after all. Besides, his Aunt stank of lights, he discovered a world cocooned in
missed showers and magnolia perfume. a veiled and sensual glamour. Half a dozen
people chatted from lawn chairs at the back
“Mama, I can do it. I can.” He looked up of a maroon Charger, the trunk lid thrown
with bright eager eyes. “I can make it in fif- wide as a Pandora’s box as it spilled forth
teen minutes, you just watch.” its refrain of soulful rhythms. At the grassy
end of the complex, the shadows of chil-
“Wellll.” She pursed her lips and cocked a dren flitted to and fro among the rusted
brow. “I suppose. Now where’s that purse?” silhouettes of slides and swings their calls
and laughter rising and falling like cresting
DeMichael raced into her bedroom, waves. Above it all hovered the aroma of
snagged her fat leather handbag from the frying burgers, barbecued baloney, and the
doorknob and thudded back down the hall. rich smoky fog of smoldering grills.

Purse in hand, his mother turned away “Hey, Lil’ D.”
as she retrieved her wallet, her distrust of
the world so firmly ingrained she was un- DeMicael turned to see his friend, Jayden,
able to ignore it even in this intimate mo- disengage himself from the shadows and
ment. When she turned back around, she saunter over. 
held out a ten-dollar bill.
“Whatcha doin’?” Jayden’s eyes lifted to
“Now this here’s plenty for butter an’ the third-floor balcony where DeMichael’s
eggs.” With a playful grin, she pulled the mother leaned over watching them. “Your
cash away from his grasping fingers. “An’ mom finally let’cha out?”
you can spend a couple dollar on somethin’
for yourself.” DeMichael shrugged. “Finally? Hell,
she let me out all the time.” He tossed his
DeMichael snatched the bill and jammed mother a wave and looked back to Jayden.
it in his pocket wondering what delicacies “Hey, I’m goin’ ta ol’ man Narang’s. Ya wanna
might be had for two bucks. come?”

As he backed towards the door, his At Jayden’s nod of approval, the two
mother called, “An’ don’t you dare talk ta fell into step, swimming between swells of
none of them boys in the lot. You go straight
on ta the store an’ hurry right back.”

8

Revista Literária Adelaide

music flowing from open windows or the “Naw, I can’t steal nothin’. What happens
cars dotting the lot. if I get banned like you? Then next time
Mama sends me to the store, I’ll have ta
“So whatcha goin’ to the store for?” walk all the way ta Walmart.” He shook his
Jayden asked. head and rubbed sagely at his chin. “No, it
ain’t worth the risk.”
“I gotta get butter an’ eggs for dinner.”
“But your mom don’t never send you out,”
They navigated the separating darkness Jayden protested. “Leastwise, I ain’t never
of a weed strewn field, the Gas-N-Go’s dis- seen ya.”
tant golden lights shimmering with a light-
house’s beguiling appeal. “Pffft,” DeMichael puffed out his disdain.
“Just ‘cause you ain’t seen me, don’t mean
“I can’t go in” Jayden said, pulling up I ain’t done it.” He turned and waved back
short on the sidewalk outside the store. to the complex, the buttery glow of a dozen
dozen windows darkling in the night.
“Why not?” Fearing Jayden might have
spotted some of the neighborhood bullies, “Why I been sneakin’ ‘cross that field and
DeMichael rose to his tiptoes and peered buyin’ stuff for my mom since I was nine,” he
through the dusty windows at the bright lied. “The only thing ya gotta watch out for
aisles within. Other than old man Narang’s is the pervs. Stay close to the cars and move
nephew, there was no one in sight. fast an’ low. That’s how ya don’t get seen”

“There ain’t no one there,” DeMichael Jayden pursed his lips and nodded in ap-
said. “You afraid ah goin’ in?” preciation. “Really? You do this a lot?”

“I ain’t afraid ah nothin’.” Jayden squared “All the time.”
his shoulders. “It’s just that old man Narang
caught me stealin’ candy last month.” His DeMichael dug into his pocket fingering
shoulders sank as he kicked at a cup rotting the papery thickness of the bill, torn be-
quietly beside the curb. “Said I couldn’t tween an offer of generosity towards his
come back til school starts. Even took my friend and the selfish desire to keep what-
picture an’ taped it to the wall behind the ever goodies two dollars could buy.
counter.”
“If I have any change,” he said at last, “I’ll
He looked to DeMichael and shrugged. get us somethin’. ‘Kay?”
“So if I go in, we’ll probably both get kicked
out.” Pushing through the brassy jingle at
the door, DeMichael’s skin prickled at the
“Then gimme some money, an’ I’ll get ya sudden coolness inside the Gas-N-Go. The
something,” DeMicael said.  clerk glanced up from a magazine balanced
on his lap and brushed the dark bangs from
Jayden inside outed his pockets. “I ain’t his eyes. He was a pleasant looking man
got none.” He offered DeMichael a buck with youthful mocha shin and bright lop-
toothed grin. “But’cha could steal us some- sided smile.
thin’. If ya wasn’t scared.”
“Welcome to the Gas-N-Go,” he said me-
DeMichael considered his friends sug- chanically before his eyed dropped once
gestion. As he did, a voice in his head spoke more to the page.
against it with a strangely Mama-like tone.

9

Adelaide Literary Magazine

DeMichael wandered the aisles relishing man’s eyes lifted and collided with DeM-
the power of his responsibility and the ex- ichael’s. An electric jolt surged down his
otic, foreign aromas, a spicy mix of incense spine and locked his feet to the floor.
and the hungry smell of curry laden meals.
He eventually discovered the butter and The sound of distant sirens.
eggs showcased behind a misty glass cur-
tain at the back of the store. The refriger- The man’s eyes darted to the window. To
ator buzzed noisily as he cracked open the DeMichael. The window. With a final glance
door and retrieved the butter and eggs. He to the body at his feet, the robber fled. 
let the door swing closed with a solid mag-
netic snick. On quivering legs, DeMichael plodded to
the counter. The young man, who only mo-
Looking to the window, he spotted ments before, had acknowledged him with
Jayden peering in. His friend motioned to a smile, looked up at DeMichael with dim
the candy aisle; his nose pressed to the glass. half-lidded eyes.
Strolling over, DeMichael set down the eggs
and examined the selection with all the con- “Hey, Mister. You...you okay?”
sideration of a connoisseur seated before
his meal. Lifting first a Hershey’s bar then a The clerk stared up in silent judgment.
Payday, Jayden rejected each with a shake Why did this happen, DeMichael? Why
of the head. didn’t you help?

When DeMichael raised a Snickers, Flashing red and blue lights spangled the
Jayden was gone. At the same instant, the glass.
bell at the front door chimed.
If there was one thing DeMichael had
“Open the register an’ gimme all the learned in his short life in the hood, it was
cash,” a voice growled. to not be around when the police arrived.

DeMichael dropped behind the shelves. He ran.
His heart hammered.
Dashing out the side door, he rushed
“Please. Don’t shoot.” The clerk said. across the parking lot and into the field. He
was halted by a friendly voice calling from
There was the rustling sound of the the gloom.
clerk’s magazine hitting the floor, the frantic
plastic tap of the register keys. “Hey, D! D, over here.”

“Come on, motherfucker, I ain’t got all day.” A shadow sprouted from the grassy
darkness and waved him over. It was Jayden.
The sound of a struggle. A grunting in-
take of breath. A gunshot crack stabbed “D, what happened?” He grabbed DeM-
DeMichael’s ears. Without realizing it, De- ichael’s shoulder and pressed him into the
Michael found himself on his feet. Fear brush just as a police spotlight swept the
brought a watery looseness to his joints as field. “I saw that guy go in,” Jayden said,
he leaned out and peered down the aisle. “Then heard the shot.”

The clerk lay on the floor. A man crouched “He killed em’.” DeMichael felt emotion
above him. Drawn by his movement, the well in his eyes. He brushed it away with a
wrist. “I saw him, Jayden. I saw who done it.”

10

Revista Literária Adelaide

“It was Peanut,” Jayden said softly. “I rec- woman in dreadlocks and a too tight skirt.
ognized him when he walked in.” He patted Peanut’s eyes locked with DeMichael’s. An
his friend on the shoulder. “Just pray he officer edged up to the crowd a notepad in
didn’t see ya.” hand. 

DeMichael’s guts knotted as more cops “Did anyone see what happened?” she
streaked into the lot. In minutes, half a asked. “Any cars or suspicious people?”
dozen cars were there, the yellow crime
scene tape spooled from front doors to Peanut’s eyes never left DeMichael’s as
the gas pumps and back again. It formed he rotated his head in a slow, ‘No’. Then
a perimeter at which a curious and jocular he raised a finger to his lips in a sign for si-
crowd had already formed. lence… and smiled.

“I gotta tell em’,” DeMichael said. He DeMichael ran. Sprinting across the field
marched into the light and pushed his way and now empty lots, he pounded up the
to the front of the crowd. Jayden was at his stairs and into his mother’s arms.
side.
“Lordy, boy, where ya been?” She looked
“D, you can’t do it,” Jayden whispered. down on him with angry fearful eyes. “Don’t
you know there was a shootin’? I been wor-
“Why not?” ried sick.” Her expression softened as tears
streamed down DeMichael’s cheeks.  She
“Cause if Peanut finds out you snitched, stepped back and studied him, noting the
he’ll kill ya. They’ll shoot up your house stick of butter and candy bar fisted in his
bruh.” He laid a hand on DeMichael’s hand.
shoulder. “Come on. Let’s just go home an’
forget this ever happened.” “Oh, son, what did you see?”

Then the killer will get away, DeMichael With gentle pressure, she eased his fin-
thought. That man would have died for gers free, the butter’s waxy paper dented
nothin’. and soft beneath his grip. She pulled him
into her arms and held him.
A silver minivan screeched into the lot,
and old man Narang and two disheveled “Don’t you worry, you’re safe now,” she
women tumbled out. They were halted crooned. “Ain’t no one gonna hurt my baby.”
at the tape by a plump cop who led the
weeping family to the far side of the Gas- In the earthy warmth of his mother’s
N-Go. embrace, DeMichael wept, not just for the
young clerk but at the brutality of his world
DeMichael’s sense of right and wrong was and the recognized truth behind his moth-
tossed on a sea of indecision. He feared the er’s comforting lies.
killer might hurt him. An even greater fear
of what might happen to his mom. Jayden’s other’s comforting lies.
grip dug painfully into DeMichael’s arm.

“There he is,” Jayden hissed. “Peanut’s
here.”

Lifting his eyes, DeMichael searched the
crowd. The killer stood beside a fat grinning

11

Adelaide Literary Magazine
About the Author
Jeff Dossey is an ex-police officer and current software developer living in the wilds of
central Oklahoma. Besides winning Oklahoma Writer’s Federation best new horror of 2018
and 2019 with his novels, Neverland, and Shattered, he also received multiple honorable
mentions in L.R Hubbard’s Writers of the Future contest. Jeff’s short stories can be found
in magazines such as The Literary Hatchet, Tales to Terrify, Shotgun Honey, and Mystery
Weekly as well as several popular anthologies.

12

RAIN AND COFFEE

by Mehreen Ahmed

Sweet Callings and tea. He also knew what she ate for
breakfast everyday, coffee. Now, those
Another hot day in the savannah, the young were some intimate details about each
man, barely 24 wouldn’t take his eyes off other. Should she tell him more? Egg him
her picture on facebook, I wrote as I looked on? After all it was all virtual. No one had
out at a collage of zebras and giraffes far- to come up front or needed to become per-
ther on the open savannah. There they sonal. This was intriguing. I finished my tea
were, the animals, also talking how this and went back to my computer.
man would do anything for this woman on
whose profile he doted. In the meantime a strong storm rose.
The sky was shaded in grey patches of ink
That was odd, but I wrote. smudges. She could hear the wind rage out-
side the closed window. Lyre of unbroken
The man wrote secret messages to her strings, a rhythm trying to push through.
saying he wanted to know her better; he This pensive, pale day of mourning for la-
wanted to speak to her. He even called her bour’s lost love. How would this story turn?
a few times, only to be disappointed. They A comedy, a tragedy, a humour? Where was
chatted on facebook, using first names as morality in all this? Should morality even
endearment. But in the indomitable spirit have a place? No. No. She must not indulge
of youth, the man demanded more. Her in this. She must tell him at once that she
profile looked pretty. He wanted to know couldn’t go any further, prepare him for a
where she lived, what she ate for breakfast. romantic interlude. Why did it matter? Love
He wanted to hear her voice on the phone. of the heart, love of the mind, all was fair
Then, one day, he asked her what she did. and square in affairs of love? No? A soul-
She told him singing was her hobby and that mate perhaps across long distance and
writing, her passion. She even got awards. time. Both a virtual and a virtuous relation-
Was she trying to sell him her books? Was ship, that he was young, but he was also
she treating him like a potential client? She mature. She liked him. She liked him a lot.
asked herself, as she allowed this relation- Wait! Should she block him? He was calling
ship to grow. again. Her impulsive fingers like bare brown
winter twigs, teetered on the brink of this
I took a break from writing. I put my fantasy/reality button. She went to edits
laptop down and went into the kitchen to option on Whatsapp. She blocked him. She
make some tea. I thought, she knew what
he ate for breakfast everyday, eggs, bread

13

Adelaide Literary Magazine

quickly rushed to block him on facebook told her that he didn’t mean to, it was an
and deleted all the messages on facebook accident. She took him back. The usual chat-
and Whatsapp. There, all gone, a clean slate. ting began all over. But she knew this was
caprice, for her at least. What should she
Then, she sat down quietly listening to do? Play with his emotions a bit, feather
the song of the winds. There was a song in them and brush them up in pale pink and
her heart too. She looked out at the night blue with romance? The romantic flutters,
and saw two shadows making love on the the aahs and the oohs. Open up, let your-
opposite balcony. She ran out to see more, self go, revel in the warmth of young love,
but she saw two potted palm fronds rub- imagine yourself in his deep embraces and
bing each other in the dark. She took her hot sighs on your hair. He, inhaling the fra-
phone absent-mindedly and went back grances of your hair; lips connected. Loves
to their chat. She had blocked this man. entwined! Let go! Let go!
There were no new messages about how
her mornings were. Whether she had her Stop! Stop right there. I took my fingers
breakfasts. If she was taking care of herself? off the computer. By now, the sizzling heat
This intimacy, she deleted, murdered them had mellowed on the far savannah. The Gi-
at a brute press of a finger tip. But, here raffes and the Zebras had left. I looked out at
were no restraint buttons on her emotion. the stifling sun. It dipped down the horizon.
She began to miss him. The savannah stood aloof in the backdrop of
a scarred night of pimpled feral Hyenas, and
Which way was it all going? She was wild spotted Dalmatians.
going to engage him in interesting conversa-
tions. She was going to unblock him. Before, She was going to wreck him. She was
she unblocked him, she tried to remember going to woo him with her words, so he’d be
his last messages. How he asked her ev- glued to his phone. She was going to wrap
eryday, what she did and she had said, she him up in the powers of her poetry and
wrote all day. Then he said, how come you beguile him so that he’d forget to eat his
never rest? She had allayed her fears. She breakfasts; his sleeps would be a wet awak-
felt, this man had something that pulled enings night sweats in the early hours. She
her. He had a sensitive heart and wanted to was going to push him to the cliff where she
learn about life. He had even told her that would rule supreme like Venus, drive him to
he wanted to listen to her songs. So, should his fantasies and lock him in this gilded cage
he call her? She had said no, no, never. He of her fling, her own little toy bird. Those
demanded why not, ever. She had said, she sweet nothings, her magic potions, her
had her reasons. She had vulnerabilities. fluttering joys. Could she be this heartless?
She was going to unblock him today. She That she would crush a half-fledged person
had been really mean to this man. He had of a man to his emotional demise? After
not done anything even remotely bad to de- all what was in it for her? An escape from
serve this. On the contrary, he had said he this remarkable drudgery of boredom? It
could give her a few lessons on his culture, couldn’t be love. No. she couldn’t be that
the country he grew up in. That was rude person. No matter how lonely, how bored
that she had blocked him. she was.

As soon as she unblocked him, she asked I took a break again. I walked over to
him why had he called? He apologised and the balcony. The heavy clouds glided across

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Revista Literária Adelaide

the sky in spectacular elegance; the biting “No.No.No. Never, you must never ask for
winds on my face. Fly, fly away, the wings of more than what I can give you. I don’t have
poesy declared, a steamy romance in the air. time to talk,” her shot bullet words.

“Tell me, tell me, why do you not want “Make time then. I’m going to die, if you
me to call you?” he wrote. won’t let me,” he was unstoppable.

“Because, I have problems.” “Love me all you like but only in your fan-
tasy. We must never meet.”
“Like what? You can tell me, yeah? Are
you married? What is it?” She wrote back. The click sounds were
loud. She logged out. She was sitting in
“No, I can’t. Forgive me, please forgive,” her bed. She slipped solidly under the quilt
she pleaded. “Stop this. Does it matter if I’m and covered her head. She panted awhile.
married?” This gave her a thrill, this cyber romance as
much as it thrilled him. Both, waited eagerly
“No, not at all, but I cannot stop now, I for the next text.
like you. I like you a lot. You cannot ask me
to stop. I think, I’m in love.” “It’s raining here, today? I love rain,” she
wrote.
“In love with whom? Do you have a beau-
tiful girlfriend?” her fingers trembled. “Are you taking care of yourself? Or
drinking just coffee? Why? Are you on a diet
“Girlfriend? Must you ask? How did your or something?” he replied.
breakfast taste this morning?”
“Why do you care so much?”
“Good and you? she asked
“I don’t know. I just do.”
“You had me for breakfast? How did I
taste, my love, my sweetheart?” “You do realise that we would never
meet? And that this has to be a long dis-
“What? I have to go. Bye.” tance relationship, pure and sweet?”

She quickly logged out. She felt agitated. “That is true. You’re right. But I just need
Next, he would want to know where she to write, and write to you.”
lived and try to come over. And then, and
then …. But she went back to the chats im- “I understand. But I’ve to go now, bye.”
mediately, anyway.
I paused. These short bursts of texts had
“You work too hard. You should rest from an exultant effect on the man. He thought
your writings sometimes,” his messages lay she was playing hard to get. I thought, it
in the chat box. was time to end this charade. I thought, she
must tell him.
“Thank you for your concern,” she replied.
Next morning, she woke up and found
“You don’t know how to enjoy life. You’re the phone right next to her bed. She went
bored and lonely, and that’s the plain truth. straight to WhatsApp. There were no new
But you must learn to enjoy life too. Life is messages.
for enjoyment. Let me call, let me hear your
voice, I’m dying to hear it. Let me hear your She wrote,“how old are you?”
songs, I’m dying to hear them. How else could
I listen to your songs, if I couldn’t call you?” Instantly, he replied. “24, and you?”

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

She thought for a while, this restless lad, “I feel like talking to you all day?”
kept shooting the same message at least, 5
times. “Oh, no you must go to work, not waste
time on me.”
“60.”
She thought she needed to change her
“Seriously? Are you kidding me? You role from a potential lover to a mentor, to
don’t look your age at all in your profile? guide the young the man who is so obvi-
Tell me you joking.” ously smitten by her.

“No, I’m not, joking. Time you found a “Yes, yes, I know. You’re still the most
girlfriend your age? beautiful woman. You get more and more
beautiful with age.”
“Haha, girlfriend? You search one for me,
okay?” “But I’m not your cup o’ tea.”

“Oh! I can’t.” “I love, I love your beautiful mind.”

“Just joking.” “You must go to college.”

“I guess, this is it then? Goodbye,” she said. “I love you.”

“Girlfriends are mostly bimbos. I’d rather “As a friend?”
have one true friend, and that would be
you.” Communications stopped.

“You really are good, you know. Honest. Dolly
I wondered, why I continued. Now I know
why? It was your purity that attracted me.” “Not without her,” Ana screamed. “I’m not
leaving without Dolly.”
“I know,” he said. “But you know what, I
also care about you, far too much.” But the police officer kept pestering. She
put Ana in hand-cuffs. Ana yelled at the con-
After that day the texting stopped. She stable. She pleaded. But the resolute officer
repeatedly went to WhatsApp. But, there didn’t budge. She told Ana that she must
were no new texts. She looked at herself leave without her doll. For it was really she,
in the mirror and the deep wrinkles morti- who was in trouble, not her doll. Ana re-
fied her as did her wrinkly fingers, her sag- alised that police officer didn’t understand
ging skin, the drooping lips; the ephemera that Dolly was her security blanket, now
reared its ugly head. and always. Ever since she was five, now
fifteen.
A new text arrived.
“Trouble?” she screamed. “You say, I’m
“Hello, how’re you?” in trouble? A parasite under the radar until
you caught me out?”
“I’m good, and you?”
“What else would you call yourselves?
Then the woman sat back and thought You, downy mildews of fester? You steal
about his parents. What would they say? buns from that bakery, there.
Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to end this
relationship, either. There was a picture on “I only steal for hunger.”
his profile. But who knew if this was his real
face? Another Message, “Little snitch! I’ll get you sorted out.”

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Revista Literária Adelaide

“Ha! I have been like this since five. I sold Two strong hands grabbed her and pulled
flowers on Harlon Street, an orphan, and her inside.
a phantom to most. Those who saw my
flowers, never saw me; I was invisible to She fretted, twisted and turned. Ana fell
them, camouflaged like screech owl on a asleep gripping Dolly close to her chest.The
living bark. Then one day, someone noticed car sped along; they reached a mansion. The
me,” she said. heavy doors opened, a woman appeared.
She came to the car and took Ana inside.
“Who? Who noticed you?” asked the po- They entered a pink bedroom. She scoffed
lice constable. at her, ‘not another word’. Weeks and
months passed. She was kept all to herself
“He did. The big man. One evening, it in this pink bedroom. It was full of dolls. The
rained. I appeared at his car window with woman dolled her up too, beautiful dresses,
a bunch of yellow chrysanthemums. He and new make-up. But she missed her street.
rolled down his windows and offered me
money. He told me to take the money, and Then one day, the man summoned her
re-sell the wet bunch. Just when the lights into the living-room she hadn’t seen in
changed, I dropped the flowers on his lap, many days. But he wasn’t alone. He was
saying that he must take them or else Dolly with others.
may get offended. The man drove away.
“What’s your name, little girl?” asked an-
She looked down at the grooved pave- other man.
ment littered with torn plastic bags. A bed
made out of slippery bags for a slippery life. She replied, shyly, “Ana,”

“Is this any way to live? You should be “Lovely name, Ana. Go pack a small bag,
ashamed of your life?” The constable yelled. I want to take you out.”

“Yeah? You have a better idea? Where A cold shiver ran through her. She was
were you, when they took me? I had almost going out with this strange man. Maybe,
become the big men’s playing doll. Where this could open up an escape route. In
were you when those leeches nearly lay her room, she packed a pink suitcase and
me down in their valley, the dark night’s picked up Dolly. She came back into the
under-bridge?” living-room. The man took her hand and
walked her out of the palace. Ana never saw
Another rain began as Ana told her story, this palace again, the woman, or the first
how the same car came back the next night, man. They climbed into another car that the
and she, a mere child of ten ran towards it new man drove. In the car, he looked at her
to sell some more. But this time, the driver and slid his hand under Ana’s skirt. Ana felt
opened the car door, instead of a window. odd. She tried to move away from him. By
He tried to entice her with bundle loads of now he had started his car, and the car sped
money. The girl was frightened and ran she down a highway.
away this night.
“Where are you taking me?” Ana asked.
The end of her flower selling days came
the next evening. This time she had Dolly “You’ll see. Don’t be afraid.”
with her. That car was on the street. She
stood squeezed in between the traffic jam. Ana began to cry. She screamed so much
that the man had to stop his car. He took
Ana by her shoulders, and shook them.

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

“Stop this. Stop this at once. Or else I’ll were at least twenty people seated here,
kill you.” and the clamour of cutlery and talks rose
to high-pitched peals. Then the butler en-
Ana cowed before his rage. He glowered tered with a tray in his beefy hands. On the
at her and restarted his car. She looked at tray, I saw many bowls of pewter brand. He
her doll and pressed her close to her chest. placed them in front of each person. Most
Her nails dug deep into the doll’s cascading people knew what to do with them. I only
hair. She thought of her flowers, the deli- had a foray of inkling. I looked away from
cate white, yellow, pink chrysanthemum everyone. I looked at the bowl before me.
petals. How they bloomed before her and It held some water and a slice of lemon. I
perished. Her freedom on the street, her picked up the bowl in my hands and slowly
kind boss, the owner of the flower shop. brought it up to my lips. Between my lips, I
Some days, she got paid, some days, she placed the pewter rim, and drank the water
didn’t. Some days she ate, some days she straight off its brim. Dead silence dropped
didn’t. It all depended on the sale. But this? in the room. People who didn’t even steal
Anything was better than this. She fought a glance until now, inclined their heads all
her miserable thoughts. This new place, she towards me. I wasn’t sure what I had done
didn’t know. Where was she going to go? to become the centre of this sudden atten-
The driver stopped the car, yet again. He got tion. My perplexity compounded, when I
out, locking her inside. Ana’s restive mind saw what they did. Finger bowl it was. A
thought of a way out. She held her Dolly mistake made by me. They did just what
tight and said. they were meant to do, dip their nimble
fingers into them, and rub them elegantly.
“Dear Dolly, I will take you out of here. I I looked at my fingers and deemed them to
won’t let that bastard touch you.” be clean.

The doll looked at her and blinked. She I noted that my hostess, Nancy and Mark
had wings. She rose from her lap like a dot suppress a smile. There was nothing I could
of light. There was a sound of the window do now or anyone else for that matter. No
locks clicking and popping straight up. amount of cover-ups could cover what I
The car doors flung open. Bright lights in had done. Oh! I wanted to cut those fin-
her eyes, Dolly smiled. Ana was free. She gers off. Pull out the nails. That they were
jumped out of the car. She fled. She fled meant to be in the anointed water of the
with Dolly and never looked back. The man holy grail. I felt like running away. But I
had gone to buy coffee, she imagined. She couldn’t do that either. I couldn’t make
pictured him back into the car, looking fran- an egress, because something had pinned
tically for Ana. But all he found was her pink me to the chair. Dried butterflies encased
suitcase, perched neatly up against the in collector’s possession, I just sat glumly
seat’s leather base. like a frog on a lily pad, in the wake of a
rain. Yes, I sat, sat through it, while they
faUx paS watched me in shock and horror and rid-
icule me. Inwardly they said, I wasn’t so-
There was banter at the dinner table. Peo- phisticated. I didn’t know the decorum
ple laughed at somebody’s jest. These bois- of the kingdom. I knew exactly, every
terous gestures of joy distracted me. There odd thought that crossed their heads. An

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Revista Literária Adelaide

anomaly had occurred, an oddity took When my sketching was complete, I held
place, right before their eyes, at this it up in the lights. The disbelief in their eyes,
dinner table tonight. As much as I fancied said it all. That I could paint a picture of
to not to appear crude, the brute in ev- this magnitude. Some lauded, and others
eryone, the jury was still out. I knew what screamed out, ‘say, did you do that on pur-
they thought, but I didn’t know what they pose, so you could catch the moment on
would do to me. I, still sitting, becoming, canvas?’ I took this opportunity and bowed
and gradually coming to my senses that low to ask for forgiveness and to tell pur-
the socialites would perhaps abandon me, portedly, ‘that it was indeed the intent all
kick me out. How dare I brushed shoulders along.’ The crowd cheered, they clapped
with the creams and the gleams of these and forgot about this splendid faux pas. I
bunch of elites. While they wondered titled the painting, faUx paS, and then gifted
what to do with me, I thought of a ruse. I it to my host. This painting received a pres-
decided enough was enough, I was going tigious award. Another version survived in
save myself from this humiliation at any the gallery of modern arts. However, It was
cost. I wanted to normalise. I still wanted never for sale, because it was the painting
to be in. I allowed some fleeting seconds which had saved my soul, a re-entry ticket
of these petrified moments. Then I stood into the world unknown.
up on my two heels. I pushed my chair
back hard; it fell resoundingly on the floor, It wasn’t the elites that I feared, but
to their surprise. I walked up two steps to my defeat, I wouldn’t consider a feat. My
the door and asked a man standing here, painting may have saved me from one faux
to fetch me a pen and sheets of white pa- pas still, many may await in the future re-
pers rolls. pository. After all it was the few odd faux
pas that sent the Boleyn sister, off to the
While my audience floundered, I waited gallows to her beheaded misery. The one
for my ammunition. The pen and the papers who spoke her mind, her tongue a shaper
arrived, I took them in my stride. I quickly bind, in a less forgiving world, faux pas
laid out, rolls of papers on the floor and could cause enormous abuse. Transforming
etched a few parallels and disjointed poles. Henry’s love into fatal discontent, surely,
I connected the dots and sketched a tall pic- her faux pas were made at countless social
ture in its opulence, not to mention the am- event.
bience. It was a sketch of this dinner table,
and every one seated here in calm demea- People didn’t know the environment
nours. The frozen confused expressions and which bred them. Atonements may follow,
detailed images, replete with lavish foods, friendships may mend, to define Cleop-
this festive occasion. The pewter bowls atra as not a pretty woman. Or referring
were there too, the cause of the faux pas to Wales as “part of England,” regardlessly
but the picture worthy to behold, although histories will not relent. And neither would
I took a heavy toll. records bend, just because faux pas are an
embarrassment.

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Adelaide Literary Magazine
About the Author
Mehreen Ahmed is an award-winning, internationally published and critically acclaimed
author. She has written Novels, Novella, Short Stories, Creative Nonfiction, Flash Fiction,
Academic, Prose Poetry, Memoirs, Essays and Journalistic Write-Ups. Her works have been
podcast, anthologised and translated in German, Greek and Bengali. She has two masters
degrees and a bachelor’s (Hon) in English Literature and Linguistics from University of
Queensland and Dhaka University. She was born and raised in Bangladesh. At the moment,
she lives in Australia.

20

THE SHORESIDE

by Sean Fisher

Erik stared at the photo, gripped tightly Erik shuffled into the water. The intense
in his hands. The waves violently crashing waves soaking him immediately. He dragged
onto the shore in front of him. A storm his legs through the water getting deeper,
was quickly brewing. He brought his eyes and deeper. He spit the salt water that
up to gaze out at the open water, thinking managed to make its way into his mouth
of all the days he had been coming here Erik tried to hold off from crying, but it was
since he passed. Something was differ- impossible. He exploded into a sob.
ent about today. To put it simply, Erik was
done staring. “I’m so sorry,” he cried as the water
reached his chest
If he wasn’t drowning in his sorrow, he was
guzzling down cheap whiskey like a fish. In between his cries and the waves
Everything made him think of the son he crashing he could hear something. He
no longer had. The cries in the night that turned around back to the shore trying to
belonged to nobody, the toys he couldn’t see past the waves.
bring himself to put away. This empty life
wasn’t a life for him. Erik was purposeless. A woman stood on beach calling out to
him. Erik couldn’t make out anything she
He brought the photo of his son to his was saying, but she motioned for him to
lips, giving it a gentle kiss. come back.

“I’ll see you soon,” Erik said. “god dammit,” he said.

Erik tucked the photo into his breast He wiped off the water and tears on his
pocket of his jacket. He stood up, then filled face then started back towards the shore.
clothes with as many rocks as he could until
he was satisfied. He struggled as he took a In between waves he could see a dog
deep breath. As he exhaled, he took his first paddling towards him. He slipped his jacket
steps to the water. off and swam towards the dog.

He stopped just where the waves A Pitbull. Erik’s son dreamed of having
reached his shoes. Erik looked down as the a Pitbull companion one day. Erik planned
water seeped into his shoes. He leveled his on getting him one for the Christmas that
view back to the water. A heavy gust of wind never came.
blew the tears back into his eyes.
When he got to it, he was immediately
greeted with slobbery kisses.

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

“Thank you bud,” he said, patting the Jackie shook it with a slight smile.
dogs head.
Erik sat up, looking up to her. Then to
He slipped his fingers below its collar the dog.
and moved back towards the woman.
“Your dog here might have just saved my
Erik got back to the shore, collapsing in life,” he said.
the sand in front of the woman. The dog re-
turning to her owner. She knelt beside him, “Mine too,” Jackie smiled.
rubbing his side.
Erik held out his hand and the dog came.
“What’s going on? Why are you fully He rubbed it the brought his face to it.
clothed” she asked.
“What’s his name?” Erik asked.
He didn’t respond. He figured the ques-
tion was rhetorical. “Remmy,” she said.

“Is there someone I can call?” “Remmy. I like that name,”

He looked up at her. He could tell some- Erik stood up so he could see Jackie eye
thing about her. It was in her eyes. Erik had to eye.
seen the look before, in himself. She was
broken like him. She brushed the sand off his face.

“What’s your name?” Erik asked. “Can I take you to get a change of clothes?
Maybe get you something warm to eat or
“Jackie,” she said. drink?” she asked.

Erik held out his hand. Erik smiled for the first time in a while.

“Erik.” “I’d really like that.”

About the Author

Sean is from Detroit, Michigan. In his spare time, if he isn’t skateboarding, he is writing short
films or is working on writing his second feature length film. He is also in the process of
writing a graphic novel. Find him on Twitter @SeanPFish

22

LIKE DESCRIBING COLOR
TO A BLIND PERSON

by Jim Bolone

“Put 101.9 on.” hand with a chipped thumbnail clamped
hold of the bill.
The music we listening to no longer inter-
ested me and became noise. I preferred my “Thank you,” he said, returning a ten. He
own music; it helped keep me alert, the way pointed to a shaded corner spot, as if he
it was on the road before losing my job. This knew why we were there. “Park over there.”
stuff was an invasion of my space. “C’mon
babe, change it already, put on 101.9,” I said. I turned off the ignition. She asked me
to turn it on again so she could roll down
“I want to listen to this,” she said. the window.

Our relationship had changed. Her crit- My hands held the wheel at the ten and
icisms became sudden, frequent, pointed, two position; I squeezed them, watching
and often unfair. the veins on the tops of my hands disap-
pear, waiting for her. She brought down her
“Pull over,” she said. visor and flipped open the mirror to freshen
her lipstick. She opened her bag and pulled
“What. Why?” out scented hand sanitizer. The sound of her
hands rubbing together, her skin, eased me,
“Just do it, will you?” made me weak.

The light to changed to green. I turned I turned off the ignition. The quiet was
into the first parking lot I could find. The deafening.
attendant, a man wearing a black jumpsuit,
approached. He motioned for me to lower When I wasn’t with her I’d smell a re-
my window. “Ten bucks,” he said, in an un- minder, maybe a waft of perfume from a
identifiable foreign accent. woman in a checkout line, or the shampoo
bottle in the shower. In fights with her I was
I grimaced. “Only going to be a few min- afraid to win, but I believed I listened.
utes —”
“Are you naive, or just blind,” she said.
“Here,” Jennie said. She grabbed a twenty
from her purse and held it out. The man’s “Over a radio station, really?”
arm reached past me, his enormous hairy

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

“Turn on the car again.” Her manicured a curious, enjoyable sensation flooded me,
nail covered the window button and the as if he knew and was telling me it would
window slid down another inch. She pulled all be okay, no matter what, as if part of a
out a cigarette from inside her purse and complex human gestalt connecting us all.
placed it between her glossed lips.
I placed both hands on the steering
“Inside the car, really?” I said. wheel again; this time I did not squeeze.
We’d reached the high point of our conversa-
She scoffed, lit the cigarette, inhaled and tion and maybe we’d leave and maybe we’d
aimed a lungful of smoke out of the window break up and find other people. She pulled
crack “In the car.” out another cigarette, but didn’t light it.

I turned and looked at her. “What’s going “So that’s it. I’m not good enough for you
on, Jen.” anymore. The dream job I had for six years
comes to an end at no fault of my own, and
She blew another smoke stream out the the girl who once loved me—”
window. “I don’t know. It’s different. And
I’m not sure it’ll ever be the same.” “Still does.”

I considered this. She’d developed an “What do you want?” I said.
aversion to intimacy, an impatience in her
kiss — terrifying because it lost me, and I “Have you listened to anything I’ve said
hated feeling lost. I fantasized she might to you?”
forget it all, maybe jump on top of me, kiss
me with abandon. “Jen, we’re sitting in a goddam parking
lot talking about your peeve with my unem-
“Don’t you see we’re on two different ployment at the moment.”
planes,” she said. She looked out the
window, threw out the butt. “You said you’d “Jesus, you don’t listen, you just keep
be back to work by now — “ talking, and somehow the conversation be-
comes about you.”
“Geez Jen, really?”
I scoffed and shook my head.
“I’ve been carrying us.” she said.
“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love you. But
“Jen, are you naive, or just blind. What something’s happened since you lost your
the hell do you think unemployment is, job. I don’t know what it is.”
what it means?”
“Where does that leave us?” I said.
“And how long is that going to last,” she
said. “You’re getting used to it. Liking those “Here.”
handouts — maybe too much.”
Her phone pinged. She reached for it.
“My God where are those words coming
from? Do I know you anymore? She said “Don’t,” I said. She looked up at me. “Do
nothing. “Just tell me, goddammit.” you think this is how I’d behave if the table
was turned?” I said.
The parking attendant walked by. “Turn
on the car,” she said. I did. She rolled up the By the expression on her face I guessed
window. “Thanks. And yeah.” she knew the answer. And maybe for once
she’d known I’d been listening.
As the attendant passed he turned some
and nodded just once and smiled. Afterward, I turned on the ignition.

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Revista Literária Adelaide

About the Author

Jim Bolone has been a bartender, drummer, dockporter, bouncer, and for the past twenty-
three years, a junior high teacher in Ohio. Jim grew up in Detroit, Michigan, attended the
Detroit Public Schools, and ultimately graduated from Wayne State University with a B.A. in
English. Jim and his wife, Lori, share their home with three great kids, a dog, a cat, and lots
of books.

25

SAVING THE
PICTURE SHOW

by Ed Nichols

There was a rumor all over Clarkesville, Bobby Joe waved his arm in a circle
Georgia. The picture show was going to around the square. “Wonder how many of
close. The Habersham Theater. It had been these folks know ‘bout it?”
operating since way before World War Two.
Movies five nights each week, and all day A water fountain stood near the bench.
on Saturdays. Lots of school plays had been It was good to drink from it on hot summer
performed on the stage. A lot of folks were days.
concerned. Specially some young folks.
It leaked some, and the leak usually ran
Three boys, Bobby Joe Nix, Sonny Butler into the grass in the front of the courthouse.
and Henry Barron met on the square Sat- Or sometimes, it ran back out into the street,
urday morning to discuss the situation. They next to Big Jim Boswell’s police car.
stood outside Turpin’s Drug Store, leaning
against the cement wall. “Bobby Joe,” said “I don’t know,” said Sonny. “Bet a lot of
Sonny. “You reckon it’s true?” ‘em be upset if they knew for sure.”

“I believe so,” said Bobby Joe. “Heard the They watched little children standing on
doors was locked yesterday.” tip-toes trying to get a sip from the foun-
tain. The three boys had the same thoughts:
“Damnit,” said Henry, looking up at wondering if the little things would have a
Bobby Joe, who was a good twelve inches place to watch shows. Eating good buttered
taller. “Makes me want to cuss and piss at popcorn, drinking cold Coca-Cola’s. It was a
the same time!.” good thing to do.

“Me, too.” “That’s that little Drake girl,” said Sonny,
pointing, and looking to Henry.
People were coming and going around
town. Some were just lookers, and some “Is,” said Henry.
were shoppers. Which made Mr. Turpin,
and the other store owners, happy. The “You gonna see her sister today?” said
three boys walked over to a bench on the Bobby Joe.
courthouse lawn.

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Revista Literária Adelaide

“Was…was taking her to see that new the sidewalk to the theatre. Sonny tried
one: East of Eden. She’d read about it.” the door, shook it. “Locked tight,” he said.
They studied the posters on the doors, and
“I’d rather see a good cowboy movie any posters behind glass frames on the walls.
day,” said Sonny, forming his right hand like Bobby Joe stuck his right hand through the
a pistol, and pointing it toward Henry’s ear. little curved opening at the bottom of the
“Pow!” ticket window.

It was getting hotter, and more people “Can’t reach the cash drawer,” he said,
were coming to Clarkesville to do their Sat- pulling his arm out, laughing.
urday shopping. Henry stood up, looked
around, and said, “What am I gonna do “Better be glad Big Jim didn’t see that,”
now? Where will I take her.” said Henry.

“It don’t seem right,” said Bobby Joe. “Really wanted to see John Wayne’s
“Nothing like going to the picture show on hot new one,” said Sonny, pointing to a framed
days, sitting in that air condition old building.” poster. “The Searchers. In color, too.”

“Specially a good cowboy movie,” said Henry leaned against the door. He felt
Sonny. “Damn it!” weak. He’d have to figure out something
he and Sue could do this afternoon. Maybe
Bobby Joe pointed down Washington walk down to the river. Sit on the bank of
Street toward the Habersham Theatre, the Soque River. Throw some bread in for
and said, “Why don’t we go see if old man the trout. He wondered what she’d think
Walker will let us run it for him.” Sonny and about wading, and fishing.
Henry laughed.
Bobby Joe punched Henry on the
“You nuts,” Sonny said. shoulder, and said, “Let’s go see him.”

Henry walked to the water fountain for a “Good grief,” said Henry. “Doubt he’ll
drink. “This heat must be frying your brain,” even talk to us.”
he said.
“So,” said Sonny. “What’ll it hurt.”
“Why not?” said Bobby Joe. “The old
man’s sick, they say. What else can he do Old man Carl Walker lived in an ancient
with it? Sell it to somebody? Let’s walk house, three blocks behind the theatre on
down there.” Wilson Street. With Bobby Joe leading, they
walked and talked. Henry didn’t say much,
They stood, watching Clarkesville Police mostly thinking about Sue.
Chief, Big Jim Boswell, get in his car. They
watched him drive away. “Lord,” said Sonny, “How about this plan?” said Sonny. “Henry
look how much that car is leaning to the you run the lobby. Take up tickets, make pop-
driver’s side. They laughed. corn, sell Coca-Cola’s. I’ll learn to run the pro-
jectors. Bobby Joe, you sell tickets, and keep
“What’s he weigh now, reckon?” order. Check on the pay-trons, ‘specially that
ass-hole Danny Ward. He’s always showing
“Nearly three hundred,” said Bobby Joe. out, and talking during the movie.”

“No doubt.” “He’s a real ass-hole, for sure,” said Henry
seriously.
They walked across the square, crossed
Washington Street, and walked down

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Old man Carl Walker was sitting on his “I’d sure appreciate it if you boys would
front porch. He was bald, and had a ciga- tape that sign to the door next to the ticket
rette sticking out of bulbous lips. His small window, when you go back uptown. And what
eyes, and short, wide nose reminded Henry was you saying Bobby Joe? Thinking about?”
of a pig’s face. Bobby Joe led them straight
toward the porch steps. “Well, sir,” said Bobby Joe, “we hate to
see it closed. And didn’t know if you was
“Hello, boys,” Carl Walker said, waving his gonna sell it, or what.”
arm toward several rocking chairs. “Come
on up and have a seat.” He had his right leg “I’d sure like to sell it. But I don’t know if
laying on a stood. He didn’t have a shoe on it’d bring what I got to have,” said Walker. “I
that foot, and it was wrapped entirely with mean for the building, and everything in it.”
a white bandage.
“We been thinking and talking about it
Bobby Joe felt good. Sonny, too. Henry today,” said Bobby Joe. “What if you keep
wasn’t sure. “We just…uh…came by the the- it open, and we run it for you.”
atre,” said Henry.
Walker smiled, put his cigarette out in
“How’d it look?” the ashtray, and rubbed his knee on the
bad leg, “Don’t know if you boys could do
“Okay,” said Bobby Joe. “We was won- it. There’s more to it than most folks realize.”
dering, I mean—”
“Yes, sir—”
“You wondering whether she’s gonna be
shuttered for good, I reckon,” Walker said, Henry kept staring at Walker’s foot.
as he put his cigarette butt out in an ashtray Looked like there was some red blood
on the porch floor. seeping through the white bandage on one
side. Mark Nix, Bobby Joe’s daddy, said that
“Yes, sir. We was.” Walker probably had a cancer in that foot.
Said the old man claimed he got shot in the
“Well, boys, tell you what. I had a man, foot and leg in the war. But it was probably
out’a Atlanta, that I was hoping would move not true. Said he heard Walker never went
up here and run it for me. He called me yes- overseas. Said he heard that he spent most
terday and backed out.” Walker removed a of his enlisted time at Fort Benning, running
rag from his shirt pocket and blew his wide a movie theatre on the base.
nose. He stuck another cigarette between
his lips and lit it. “I hate it, but I just can’t hardly walk
much anymore,” he said to the boys.
“That’s too bad,” said Bobby Joe.
“Yes, sir, that’s why—”
“You telling me,” he said, as he blew
smoke, and waved his arm toward the front “How old you boys?”
door. “Sure glad y’all stopped by. If one of
you could go into the hall there, and bring “I’ll be seventeen next week,” said Bobby
me that closed sign and roll of tape, laying Joe. “Sonny and Henry both sixteen, right
on the hutch, I’d appreciate it.” now. Sonny had the best ideas how we
could run it for you.”
Bobby Joe went inside and got the sign
and tape. He came out and sat down in the Sonny leaned forward in his rocker,
rocker next to Walker and said, “This is… and laid out the plan. “Bobby Joe will sell
what we were thinking—”

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tickets and keep control of the money for what. Let me think on this. Lot of respon-
you. He’ll keep order, and help Henry in the sibility for such young fellows.” The he
lobby. Henry will be in charge of popcorn, laughed. “I do respect your idea, and you
Coca-Cola’s, keeping lobby clean. I’ll run the coming to see me.”
projectors.”
“Yes, sir, and we’ll put the sign up for you,
“You ever run a projector before?” soon as we walk back,” said Bobby Joe.

“No, sir,” answered Sonny. “But last *
summer, that fellow named Bob-something,
was running them for you, and I sat next to Habersham Theatre stayed closed three
him at Joe’s Hamburger Restaurant next more weeks. Everyone figured it was closed
door, and he invited me up to the projection for good. The Tri-County Advertiser news-
room. Showed me all about it.” paper ran a story on the theatre’s history—
with pictures. What it had meant to Clark-
“Bob Olson, it was. “He died this past esville, and all of Habersham County. But
winter. Good man. If he’d not passed, I during those three weeks, the boys helped
might’ve kept it going a little longer. Who Carl Walker get from his house to the the-
knows.” atre, so he could train them. Sonny had the
most difficult job. He practiced running the
Carl Walker lit another cigarette. He took projector for hours. Till he had it down pat.
long draws, inhaling deeply. Then he blew Walker handled ordering films from the dis-
his nose hard. The sound reminded Henry tributer. On opening night, the line waiting
of a pig slurping food out of a watery trough. to buy a ticket was all the way back up to
the square. The boys did good. Henry had
“What your folks, your mother and daddy, Sue working the popcorn machine. Sonny
think about all this?” had wanted the first showing to be a west-
ern. But Walker over-ruled him, selecting a
“We ain’t said nothing yet,” said Bobby film that showed different cultures, new
Joe. “Wanted to talk to you first.” countries, excitement, and daring. He
chose, Around The World In 80 Days.
He took more long draws, and went si-
lent. Enjoying his cigarette, they figured.
Finally, Carl Walker said to them, “Tell you

About the Author

Ed Nichols lives on Lake Oconee, Georgia. He is a journalism
graduate from the University of Georgia, and is an award-
winning writer from Southeastern Writer’s Association. He
has had many short stories published, online and in print.

29

MISSING

by J.P. Johnson

On his day off, Bill Whitley decided to stop them “laugh lines.” But, it looked to Bill that
at one of the oldest bars in town, The she hadn’t laughed in a very long time. She
Horseshoe. The Horseshoe was built in the was wearing black pants, black tennies and
1920s and featured dark woodwork and a black blouse. A uniform, perhaps? Except
a few wooden pillars reaching to a high, the pink, cardigan sweater wouldn’t be part
molded tin ceiling. Behind the bar, hung of a uniform, but it still looked nice on her.
a heavy, cut glass mirror with a gilt-edged
frame. The top and sides of it were ringed Finally, the words stumbled out, “My
with horseshoes. name’s Bill. Can I buy you a drink?

It looked like a sparse, early afternoon, “It’s may I and no, you may not. Why
mid-week crowd. Bill took his place at the don’t you go back to where you were and
far end of the bar. He ordered a gin and talk to the bartender?”
tonic and the smiling bartender brought it
to him. He brought his drink with him and sat
where he had been. “Kinda chilly back
It was then that he noticed a dark-haired there,” he whispered to the bartender.”
woman sitting alone at the almost empty
bar, looking down into her drink and turning “Yeah, I saw that,” the bartender said and
the glass back and forth. In the dim light, Bill introduced himself as, Jeff.
could hardly make out her features, so he
made his move to get a closer look. He’d “Well, Jeff, is she a lez?”
thought she might be around forty, but
as he got closer, she looked to him to be “I don’t know. Don’t care. People come
pushing fifty. Nice, shiny, dark hair, though. in here and I sell them drinks. And my lis-
And looks attractive tied up in a high pony- tening to their problems comes with the
tail. He imagined her hair coming undone price of the drink. Sometimes that’s all I do
and falling onto her shoulders. is listen to them tell their stories of how no-
body understands them, but they think I do.
He sat on the stool next to her. She fixed And, as far as she’s concerned, I personally
a blank stare at him with cold, pale blue don’t think she’s a lesbian. She put you off
eyes. He felt that she wasn’t looking at him, because … maybe it’s just you, fella. She just
but looking through him. Then he noticed didn’t like you.”
tracings of crow’s feet; people used to call
Jeff walked over to her with a fresh drink.
They talked for a few minutes and not once,

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turned they eyes toward Bill. Bill guessed “No. And lucky for you.”
they weren’t talking about him, but he
could be wrong. She tipped the glass up and Jeff was, it appeared, concerned about
with two gulps of the amber booze, it was Sheila. More than he tried to let on. Bill no-
gone. She twisted off of her stool. Bill and ticed and leaned forward. “The last time I
Jeff watched her march out the door. saw her … we both saw her,” he confessed,
“was about a week ago. I sure as hell don’t
“What’s her name?” know why I’m telling a punk like you any of
this.”
Jeff came over and set large forearms on
the bar, cupping his hands over his elbows; “I think it’s because you’re close friends
invading Bill’s personal space. “Sheila. Why and you really care about her.”
do ya wanna know?”
“Why don’t you shut the fuck up! It’s
“Just thought I’d ask. Is Sheila a regular none of your business. Are you gonna have
in here?” a drink, or not? Gin and tonic, was it?”

“You wouldn’t be tryin’ to stalk her, now Surprised at his outburst, Bill only
would ya?” nodded.

“Of course not, I only …” *

“Listen, sometimes I offer advice, not that “Sergeant Langham,” the Captain of Wino-
people always take it; I’m gonna offer you na’s Detectives’ Unit, called to Jack Langham,
some and you’d better take it. Don’t even “could you step into my office for a moment?”
think about messin’ with her, or she’ll beat
the livin’ shit outta ya. I heard that she beat The other four detectives in the office
a guy to a pulp. I think she said it was a cop.” called out a juvenile chant, “OOOO, now
you’re gonna get it!”
Bill went back to the Horseshoe Bar, a
couple of days later, with hopes of seeing Langham, had been leaning back in his
the mysterious Sheila, again. She wasn’t chair with his feet on his desk, simply said,
there, but Jeff was. Despite there being “Okay.”
other customers in the bar area, Jeff the
bartender stalked toward Bill. Bill felt a chill “Come in, Jack. Close the door and have a
up his spine and hoped, no, prayed that if seat. A woman’s landlord called three days
he shivered, it wouldn’t be noticeable. ago and wanted to file a missing person’s re-
port regarding his tenant. He owns and lives
“Listen, did I stutter when I told you to in the lower story of a duplex. We told him
stay away from her? Some people just re- to call back when it’s been a week. As with
fuse to learn! You’re not her type! And I’m a lotta people, a week is five days. Anyway,
not sure anybody is.” I’d like you to go talk to him.”

“Well, she seemed a little more friendly “Wait a minute, Paul. I’m only three
toward you.” weeks from retiring after thirty-years. My
retirement party is already scheduled. The
“So what? What’s your point?” whole department’s going to turn out; my
friends, relatives and neighbors …”
“No point. Have you seen her in here,
lately?” “So?”

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“So, can’t you give it to the Lieutenant? “I’m Detective Langham …”
He’s a lot younger and more energetic. Be-
sides, when I first came up from uniforms, I, “I know who you are. I’m Sheila Krueger’s
too, was young, slim, eager to please; had landlord. Name’s Gilmore. Jerry Gilmore.”
lots of hair, now, I’m fat, bald and lazy.”
Krueger. She has a last name.
“Listen, I’m giving you a missing person’s
case. It’s a layup for a guy like you. And it “Okay, Jerry. Let’s go look at her apart-
shouldn’t take you three weeks to find her. ment.”

“A long time ago, I remember a case you Langham followed Gilmore up the
solved in about a week. It was ruled a homi- narrow staircase to the upper floor. Gilmore
cide, but you had a feeling it wasn’t.” had the key on a ring of three others and
opened the door.
“Yeah, I remember,” Langham dismissed
the comment with a wave of his hand. “Jerry, I want you to stand guard outside
the door and don’t let anybody in.”
“You figured out that it was a suicide. The
woman was right-handed and was shot in the Gilmore crossed him arms and puffed
left temple. It’s a fact that women don’t usu- out his chest. He imagined that he had an
ally commit suicide by shooting themselves, important job to do.
but that didn’t stop you from investigating
further. You found her right thumb-print on Langham noticed that the plush carpet
the trigger and deduced that she was trying to was fairly new and carpeted all the rooms
frame her left-handed ex-husband. Brilliant!” except the kitchen and bathroom. Not very
much else to see; the bed was unmade, —-
It was true that Langham was batting people living alone do this —- the top of
about .650 in cases solved and the Captain a mirrored dresser displayed a myriad of
wanted him to retire with just one more. perfume bottles, makeup and face cream
jars. In the bathroom, the sink spigot was
“Okay, Paul, just give me the address to dripping. He turned it off with the back of
her apartment.” an index finger.

Langham grabbed a set of keys to one of The extra bedroom was her TV room.
the two unmarked cruisers and drove to the A few DVDs were on a shelf under the TV.
other side of Winona. Langham picked one up. The cover looked
like it was a romantic comedy with actors
Only three weeks to retirement. No more he’d never heard of.
cheap, baggy suits; no more neckties and
no more chunky, rubber-soled shoes. From He told Gilmore that he was leaving, now.
now on, it’s gonna be topsiders, Hawaiian
shirts and jeans. And I’m gonna finally take “Didja find anything, Detective?” as he
my wife to the Bahamas. locked the door.

He pulled up to the duplex. Sheila’s “No. You reported her missing. Have you
landlord was waiting outside. He was about kept track of her comings and goings?”
twenty-years older than Langham with
more hair, even though it was white and “I didn’t hafta. She told me what her
wispy, see-through hair. schedule is … busy gal. Sometimes when
I’m in bed, I can hear her walkin’ around up
there.”

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“Does she ever have visitors?” patrolman, no more shift work, he’d always
be home for dinner and there was actually
“Oh, yeah. A big guy. He’s a bartender at less work to do in a community where work
the Horseshoe.” as a detective wasn’t exactly dangerous or,
labor-intensive. He was happy just being
“I’ve heard of the place. Does she work a sergeant. That way, he would supervise
there, too?” fewer people than he would as a lieutenant,
or captain.
“No, she’s a waitress at the Welcome Bar
and Grill.” He was met at the door by the manager.

“You mean the greasy spoon out on the “I was expecting you. Detective Langham,
highway?” is it?”

“Yeah. She works two early morning “Yes. What’s yours?”
shifts and three night shifts.”
“Jim Dolan.”
“You seem to know a lot about her. Tell
me, when that guy is over here, do you ever “I guess you know why I’m here. It’s to
hear them arguing?” investigate the disappearance of your em-
ployee, Sheila Krueger.”
“Nope, not a peep.”
“Like I explained to your Captain … “
“Does he stay overnight?”
“Yeah. I know. You’re short-handed.”
“That’s none of my business.”
“Well, that’s not all. She hasn’t shown up
“It’s my business. Does he stay over- for work in a week. She’s never late. It’s just
night?” not like her. You don’t suppose she was kid-
napped, do you?”
“Only sometimes.”
“If she was, it wouldn’t be me talking to
Langham’s cell rings: “Jack? It’s Paul. I you, it’d be the FBI.
just got a call from Sheila’s employer.”
“Mr. Dolan, did she seem stressed lately?
“The Welcome?” Was there anything bothering her? Did she
confide anything to you about her personal
“Yeah. She hasn’t come into work for a life?”
week and all they’re bitchin’ about is how
short-handed they are. Can you go over “No. She’s a good waitress … seemed to
there and talk to ‘em?” always be happy with her work. But, be-
cause she’s pretty, some guys would pay
Gilmore and Langham stepped outside. her unwanted attention, if you know what
Langham asked Gilmore that, just in case, I mean.”
he needed to talk to him further, would he
be available? Gilmore nodded. “I know what you mean. How would she
handle those situations?”
As Langham drove to the Welcome Bar
and Grill, he thought about the chances “She’d give them the coldest stare I ever
he’d had for promotions. He’d routinely saw in my life and they’d back off. I can’t
decline without offering much of an ex- figure out how she does it.”
planation. The truth was; his wife was less
worried about him than when he was a

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“Do you know a Jerry Gilmore?” “Oh, are you here about the missing
woman?”
“Yeah, Sheila’s landlord. Comes in every
so often when she’s working the morning “Yeah. Sheila Krueger.”
shift. They exchange pleasantries, he eats
breakfast and leaves.” “She used to come in here, like clockwork,
every Monday and Tuesday afternoon.
“So, nothing special about their relation- Rumor has it that she’s got a thing for my
ship?” bartender. His wife left him … poor sap! He’s
gotta work six days a week, to keep up on
“Nope. Not really. He seems like a nice, his mortgage payments.”
old guy. That’s all.”
“Is he here now? Can I talk to him?”
“One more question: Why does she go to
The Horseshoe to drink?” “Yeah, I’ll get him. You can use my office.
I’ll take over the bar.”
“I don’t mind if they eat here, but I dis-
courage my employees from drinking here.” You’ll take over the bar. Big hairy deal!

“That’s all the questions I have, for now. “I’m Jeff. If you’re a cop nosin’ around,
Thank you for your co-operation, Mr. Dolan.” let’s see some tin. And what’s it hafta do
with me?”
Langham phoned his captain: “Paul, I
got some good information and now, I’m Langham sighed, flashed his badge and
headed over to The Horseshoe Bar.” wondered how many more times he’d have
to do it, that day.
“Hey, Jack, before you go, I gotta tell ya
this. I just got a call from Sheila’s mother. “Sheila Krueger seems to be a friend of
She lives in West Saint Paul. Hasn’t heard yours. Do you know where she might be?”
from her daughter for a long time … doesn’t
return phone calls … blah, blah, blah. Now, “Got no idea, pal. Haven’t seen her in
brace yourself. She asked if Sheila was in about a week. Maybe she went on vacation
trouble, again. Get that? Again! Apparently, and didn’t tell anybody.”
she got into some trouble with Saint Paul PD.”
Langham convinced himself that per-
“What kind of trouble?” haps Jeff was concealing more than what
he was telling.
“I’ll tell ya more about it, when you get
back from The Horseshoe.” “Do you remember what she was wearing
the last time you saw her?”
Anxious to hear what the Captain had
to say, Langham first had to follow his own “What she usually wears … the black uni-
step-by-step investigative process. form she wears at The Welcome. That night
she had on a pink sweater.”
Arriving at The Horseshoe Bar, he asked
to see the manager. Langham made a mental note.

“I’m the manager. Can I help you?” “Your manager told me that your wife left
you. Tough break.”
Langham flashed his badge. After he re-
tires, he promised himself that he’d never “Thanks. If it’s any of your business, were
again be that officious. separated … temporarily.”

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“Temporarily?” Well, he dropped the charges! Embarrassed,
I guess. Of course, the file is closed, but they
“Yeah. We’re tryin’ to get back together.” still have her fingerprint card and I want you
to get a copy.”
“When was the last time you talked to
your wife? Does she live here in town?” “Okay. Then, I’ll go see Sheila’s mother.
Where’s West Saint Paul?”
“We talk on the phone almost every day.
She’s got an apartment in town and we saw “East of downtown.”
each other about a month ago. Just what’re
you gettin’ at, anyway?” The next day, Langham hoped that none
of the roads, leading into Saint Paul would
“Just doing my job … covering all the be closed. He reasoned that it was hard
bases. So, you think you might reconcile enough to negotiate the puzzles that were
with your wife?” the city’s tangled street system.

“Yeah. What’s it to ya?” When he entered the plain, red-brick
building of the First Precinct, he was met
“Oh, nothing. I was just wondering. by a female, uniformed desk clerk. She had
Thanks for your information.” a blond, buzz-cut which contrasted sharply
with her dark complexion. Latina maybe?
“I noticed that you wasn’t writing any-
thing down.” “You must be Sergeant Langham. How
can I help you?”
“I usually don’t. I was blessed, or cursed
with a good memory.” Langham asked for Sheila’s fingerprint
card and was told that it had been scanned
Is Sheila, the girlfriend, getting in the to Winona, two hours before.
way of Jeff’s and his wife’s reconciliation.
Was this why she did the disappearing act? “I don’t know why my boss didn’t tell me,”
Langham said, “it could’ve saved me a lot of
* time. How did she behave, what was her de-
meanor, I mean, while she was in jail?”
“Jack. Glad you’re back. Tomorrow, I want
you to go to Saint Paul PD headquarters “She wasn’t in jail very long … just acted
and then go see Ms. Krueger’s mother in normal … very quiet. She was quite the ce-
West Saint Paul. Sheila used to live with her lebrity around here for a while after that
‘til she got into trouble in Saint Paul. Take incident.”
your own car.”
“What happened to the officer she at-
“Are you gonna finally tell me what kind tacked?”
of trouble?”
“He was so depressed that he almost
“She beat up an undercover cop. They quit the Force. They gave him some more
were trying to bust a prostitution ring.” training and put him back on the undercover
detail. He continued to play the part of a
“Is she a pro?” businessman, only with his arm in a sling.”

“No, that’s just it. She didn’t take too “Did that detail do any good? Were any
kindly to someone thinking she was. So, she arrests made?”
did some judo or, karate moves on him and
broke his arm. She was arrested and booked
for assaulting a police officer. Serious, right?

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

“Only two.” “I’m here to ask you a few questions re-
garding your daughter.”
“Do you happen to have a description of
Sheila?” “Of course. Come in and have a seat.”

“It’s on the fingerprint card. I’ll get that Langham made a beeline for an easy-
for you. chair by the window.

“It says here: ‘five-feet-seven, one-hun- “That was my late husband’s favorite
dred-twenty-three pounds, forty-seven chair.”
years old, blue eyes, dark-brown hair, fe-
male, Caucasian.’” “Sorry, I didn’t mean to …”

“Thank you, ma’am. How do I get from “Oh, please. Don’t be silly. Let’s get down
here to West Saint Paul?” to cases, Detective. I was told if anybody
could find Sheila, it would be you.”
“Go back to Winona and start over.
Just kidding. Take Robert Street … go south “Well, I’ll try.”
…“
“You can’t believe,” she said, blinking
“South? Let me get this straight. I go back tears, “how incredibly anxious I feel
south to go east to get to West Saint Paul? since Sheila’s gone missing.”
What kind of a crazy town is this? Can you
draw me a map?” “Yes, I can believe it.”

On his way to Sheila’s mother’s apart- She sat on the sofa and went on to tell
ment, Langham thought that he wouldn’t Langham that Sheila used to live with her
get much more information regarding her until she got divorced.
daughter’s whereabouts, but he felt that
personal contact was essential to the solu- “She was married?”
tion of any case.
“Yes … for about a year. He turned out to
Arriving at the apartment, she buzzed be physically and emotionally abusive. Then,
him in without asking who he was. When she started taking karate lessons. He, being
she opened the door, in his mind, Langham the coward he was, filed for divorce. Of
was expecting to meet, certainly an older course, she went back to using her maiden
woman, but not quite what he’d envisioned. name. Then, there was the trouble with the
She was tall, slim, straight-backed; with St. Paul police … that’s why he moved away.”
curly, gray hair the color of steel wool and
it seemed, the same texture. Accentuating “Do you want her to come back and live
her slenderness, she wore a black, pencil with you?”
skirt with an ivory colored blouse.
“Yes. She could help me pay the rent.
“Mrs. Krueger? Is this a bad time, ma’am?” She’s been down in Winona for almost two
years. She could be a waitress right here.
“No, I was expecting you.” She’s so pretty that she could live on her
tips alone.”
“You look like you’re dressed to go out.”
Langham looked around the room. One
“I always look like this. I don’t like to walk window had a nice view of a park across the
around in pajamas all day.” street, the other had a view of the neigh-
boring building.

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“Nice place you’ve got here, Mrs. Krueger. Langham’s phone rang, as he was lifting
Is it a one-bedroom?” a forkful of scrambled eggs. It was Captain
Mattson.
“Yes.”
“Oh, merde! —- pardon my French —- I
“When Sheila comes back, where would wonder what the hell he wants?”
she sleep?”
Nancy laughed at that, as she was
“I’m sitting on it. It’s a hide-a-bed.” carried the coffee pot, about to refill his cup.

“Mrs. Krueger, I’ll make finding your Mattson explained that there was an
daughter a top priority. I just want you to abandoned car was found at “the point” by
know that.” the river, near Lions Park. It was registered
to Sheila Krueger. Langham was instructed
While wringing her hands on her lap, she to proceed immediately to the scene and
couldn’t hold back tears, “Oh, I hope you meet with three uniformed cops.
do. And I hope and pray that she’s all right.
She’s never gone anyplace without telling “Gotta go, Nanc. No time for a refill.”
me. Do you think she’ll be all right?”
The quickest way to get to “the point”
“Of course, she’ll be all right. I know she’s was to take East Front Street.
a woman who can take care of herself. By
the way, do you have a recent picture of “Hi, Detective. The car’s all locked up.”
her?”
Langham looked first to the dark, green
“Yes, but it’s just a snapshot. I’ll give you Toyota sedan and then at the short distance
one where she’s smiling. She has a beautiful to the narrow boat launch.
smile.”
“Okay, one of you, break the driver’s side
“She does have a beautiful smile. Thank window.”
you. I’ll see that you get it back. I hafta get
back now. It was nice meeting you, Mrs. One of the officers said, “I could go back
Krueger.” to the station and get a LockAid lock-release
gun …”
She extended her hand and said, “Like-
wise.” “No,” Langham answered, “that would
take too long. Break it now!”
*
As soon as the window was smashed,
Another week passed without any new in- showering flat hailstones of safety glass on
formation regarding Sheila Krueger. Lang- the car seat, the wailing siren of the alarm
ham sat at the kitchen table eating break- was set off.
fast and talked with his wife, Nancy. He
rarely discussed his cases with her, but had “Somebody, turn that goddam thing off,”
to ask her, why a woman would just disap- Langham shouted over the din, “pull some
pear like that. wires!”

Nancy answered, “She probably ran off One of the cops put on gloves, opened
with some guy and she didn’t want anybody the door, reached under the dash for the
to know.” toggle switch and silenced the alarm.

It can’t be that simple. “I wanna look in the trunk. Open it,”
Langham directed.

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

“Sir, there’s a safety switch on the inside “Oh, no you won’t. She ours! Keep her on
of the trunk so that nobody accidently, or ice and I’ll send our County ME down there
on purpose, gets locked-in.” to pick her up.”

“Dead people can’t use it,” Langham ca- When Langham returned, Mattson
sually replied. brought him up-to-speed on the latest de-
velopments.
There had been a body in the trunk.
There was a large, dried blood stain on the “I had a bad feeling about this, Paul. It’s a
inside left. whole new ballgame.”

“Massive head wound, judging by the “Do you wanna continue on this case?”
amount of blood,” Langham noted. The
body must’ve been taken about twenty “Yeah, of course. I’m too deep into this
feet to the boat launch and thrown into the to quit. I think I figured out a motive, but
river.” I’m not completely sure … not yet. The first
thing I’m gonna do is talk to that stupid
The other cops assured him that the as- clown at The Horseshoe.”
sumption was correct. “Have the city tow
this car to our garage,” Langham said, “so “Jack, you don’t hafta go over there. I
the forensic guys can look at it.” looked into the case and got a court-order
for Jeff and Gail Wilson’s phone records.”
Langham got another call from his Cap-
tain, Paul Mattson, who informed him that “Well, why dincha tell me this before?
the police in La Crosse had received a report You think they killed her?”
from the National Crime Information Center,
regarding the missing person: Ms. Krueger. “I’m absolutely certain. Their phones
tracked them to The Point at about 0300 on
The Medical Examiner in La Crosse called Wednesday, August 11th, the day after she
the Winona Captain of Detectives and said supposedly disappeared. We’re gonna bring
the police found the remains of a woman in them both in for questioning. She works in
the Mississippi River. Her pink sweater had the admissions office at Winona State. I’m
snagged on a tree branch close to shore. sending two uniforms there and to The
She wore a black nametag with white let- Horseshoe. You and Lieutenant Hartmann
tering on a black shirt: “Sheila.” will switch-off interrogating them.”

“Captain,” the caller said, “she’s been in “You gonna have them arrested?”
the river for a couple of weeks and is badly
decomposed … lost an eyeball. Looks like “No, they won’t be told that. Being that
a homicide. There are three gashes, about they’re at their workplaces, I don’t think
an inch in diameter, six inches long and in- they’ll want to cause a scene in public.”
dented in the middle, smashed into her skull.
It suggests that the weapon was a tire iron.” “I get it, Paul. Even though it’s a slam-
dunk, we’ve gotta find out who did what.”
“Aw, shit! Did you take her prints?”
“Exactly. Let ‘em think that we don’t know
“Nope, they’re gone. When there’re as much as we do … like we’re still fishin’.
warm days, decomposition is accelerated.
We’ll do the autopsy pretty soon.” As planned, Jeff Wilson arrived first and
Langham had him seated in interrogation

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Revista Literária Adelaide

room number one. “Mr. Wilson, I’ll hafta to “We dated … yes, I did love her. There I
take your cell phone … for security reasons.” said it! Happy, now?” Perspiration dotted
his forehead.
“What’s the charge, Langham? I want a
lawyer.” “You had told me that you and your wife …
Gail, wanted to get back together. And that
“It’s Sergeant Langham and you haven’t tells me that both of you were motivated to
been charged with anything. I only wanna remove Ms. Krueger, one way, or another.”
ask you some questions that I forgot to ask
you before.” “I already told you I didn’t do it!”

Glaring at Langham, “Go ahead. I got “Listen carefully, Jeff. There’s a standard
nothin’ to hide.” light post out on The Point and on the post,
under the light is a surveillance camera …”
Langham returned his menacing glare he lied about the camera.
with a blank stare.
“I didn’t see … I didn’t know there was a
Jeff Wilson held onto his angry veneer, camera there.”
as he looked around at the blank walls. No-
ticing no two-way mirror, he saw a heat vent “If it was dark and you looked up into the
in the corner of the ceiling, guessed that light, you wouldn’t be able to see it. The im-
it was fake and thought there might be a ages in the video are not the best, but are
camera inside it. good enough to make out Krueger’s car and
two people getting out of it, a woman and a
When Langham shifted in his chair, his large man. They opened the trunk, removed
9mm poked him in the side, causing him to a dark object, the size and shape of a body,
wince a little. Wilson noticed and smirked. carried it down the boat launch and threw
it into the river.”
“Mr. Wilson, when was the last time you
saw, or talked to Sheila Krueger?” “You can’t prove that it was me and my
wife. Show me the video!”
“Oh, a coupla weeks ago. Why? Is she still
missing? I thought you guys were smart, but Ignoring Wilson’s comment, Langham
I guess I was wrong,” he laughed. said, “Supposing one of you actually com-
mitted the murder and the other one was
“No, we found her. Would ya like to see a only an accomplice. You know that we always
picture of her?” go easier on the accomplice,” he lied again.

Wilson couldn’t help looking surprised. “I don’t hafta testify against my wife. It’s
“Sure, show it to me.” the law!”

The photo had been scanned from La “You would if you were the one charged
Crosse, showing a ghastly post-mortem with murder.”
portrait of Krueger. Wilson glanced at it. His
eyes widened and he quickly looked away. At a predesignated time, Langham and
“She’s dead and you think I did it? I didn’t do Hartmann switched places. Langham was
it! I couldn’t have!” The smugness was gone now going to question Gail Wilson.
from his voice and demeanor, replaced by a
semblance of panic. “What the hell are you two jack-in-the-
boxes doing, waltzin’ in and outta here?
“Did you love her, Jeff?”

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

Whatever you’re doing, hurry up and let me She looked away and tried her best to
get back to work.” conceal the surprising revelation. “You don’t
have anything on us. It’s all circumstantial.”
“My boss gave you the rest of the day off.”
“Everything’s circumstantial, Mrs. Wilson.”
“What? This is ridiculous!”
Langham phoned Hartmann. “Bob,
Langham repeated the same lie that he could I see you out in the hall?”
told her husband about the surveillance
camera, adding some changes regarding “Listen, Bob, tell Jeff that his wife gave
the camera’s resolution. He said that the a full confession saying that her husband
images identified both she and Jeff carrying killed Sheila and that she was only an ac-
Sheila Krueger’s body to the riverbank. cessory.”

“You probably didn’t see the camera be- Hartmann relayed the lie to Jeff. “What?
cause it was raining.” The goddam bitch threw me under the bus?
I didn’t do it! She’s lying! I only helped her
“It wasn’t … “ get rid of the body!”

“Well then, why were you wearing rain- “So, you’re saying that she did it?”
coats? Was it because of all the spattered
blood?” “Yeah, she hid her car in my garage and
… attacked her from behind with a tire iron
Gail Wilson’s shoulders slumped as she … she kept on hitting her. I told her to stop.
leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms Then we put her body in the trunk of her
and balling her fists. own car. We walked back to my house. Gail
stayed overnight.”
“Look Mrs. Wilson, I’ve got your phone
records and it shows that early Wednesday “What happened to the raincoats and the
morning, Jeff called you. Not even five min- tire iron?”
utes later, he called Sheila. Where was she
lured to?” “We threw ‘em in the river.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. “It doesn’t matter. We have the body.”
‘Lured?’”
Langham sat down with Mrs. Wilson
“Where do you suppose she would go again. “Look, you’re both in this … it’s called
if her boyfriend wanted to see her? I’ll tell first degree murder. We’ve got some good
you. She’d go over to his house. And that’s public defenders and everybody knows they
where one of you killed her. go lighter on accomplices,” he lied, “I can
see why he would commit murder. Did you
“As we speak, forensic technicians are ever meet Sheila?”
looking for bloodstains in the grass, or the
driveway at his house. And there would’ve “Yeah. When Jeff first told me about her,
been lots of blood.” I went over to the Welcome Bar and Grill,
where she worked, to get a look at her. You
Her eyes narrowed, as she slammed a know, I was the other woman or, one of us
fist on the desk. “You’re grasping at straws! was. I wanted to see what she had that I
You think I’m stupid?” didn’t. She was pretty, had a nice smile and
a nice body. And,” she dropped her head,
“Frankly, yes. Do you know we’ve been “she had Jeff.”
talking to Jeff? He’s in the next room.”

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Revista Literária Adelaide

“Had there been other women before Then he slid the picture of her dead body
Sheila came along?” in front of Gail. She brought it closer and
bent over to carefully examine it, then slid it
“Yeah, there were. Those women were back. “How could he do such a thing?”
helping Jeff cheat on me. I kept on forgiving
him and I don’t know why.” “Mrs. Wilson, I don’t think he did. I don’t
believe he’d be capable. I do think that you
“Well, why did you want to stay with would be.”
him?”
“This is all bullshit!”
“It’s the other way around. He wants to
stay with me. I’ve got a steady, good paying “Oh, I don’t know about that. We should
job. It’s about the money!” see what a judge and jury would say. In the
meantime, we’re gonna put both of you
Langham slid a picture of a smiling Sheila, in jail … for a few days. You probably don’t
across the table. “See that smile? I imagine want to spend a lot of money on lawyers,
that she smiled at Jeff like that every time but we’ve got some good public defenders
she saw him.” … I guess, that’s all for now.”

About the Author

JP Johnson’s writings have been previously published in the following literary magazines:
Adelaide, Whistling Shade, Ramingo’s Porch, Lost Lake Folk Opera and two books published
by Shipwreckt Books Publishing.

41

ZANZIBAR

by Robert Gamer

“Do you mind if I sit down?” Kit Evans waited until the bartender had
resumed his former position to return to
Although, nursing a drink, the woman his come on. “Well Nelly, you were sitting
sitting at the bar did not stir, the man pro- all by your lonely self so I thought that you
ceeded to plop himself down on the adja- can use someone like me to brighten up the
cent stool. “Hi, I’m Kit Evans,” he introduced evening.”
himself.
The woman called Nelly continued to
The woman made no sign that his words stare listlessly at her drink.
had registered.
Nonplussed, Kit Evans edged his stool
“Can I buy you a refill?” the man offered. closer. A financial representative at Alle-
“Bartender, can you give this smashingly gor- giance’s Danvers location, it had been one
geous creature another drink?” long day. On the phone pressurizing would
be customers with the standard spiel had
The bartender, a thick shouldered hulk not been without grinding stress. Nowhere
with a ruddy complexion, who didn’t ap- near his quota, he had a lot to blow off. As it
pear to be a day older than thirty, gazed happened, hooking up would be the perfect
over. With these two stragglers the last of tonic. “What shall we drink to?” he raised
the younger set lingering in the place, this his glass.
fellow was obviously taking the last scrap
to hit on. “Dude, I appreciate the business, Finally showing some sign of life, Nelly
but I think the lady’s already had her share.” lifted herself off the stool. It took her a
few moments to balance herself when she
Kit Evans smiled equitably. Taking out got to her feet. Not paying her courter any
his billfold, he removed a twenty dollar bill. mind, she lurched off in the general direc-
“Why don’t you bring her that drink and tion of the facilities. When she had made
keep the change?” her way safely out of sight, the bartender
strolled back over. “I might as well tell you
“Coming up,” the bartender shrugged. that you’re not going to get anywhere - not
with Nelly.”
In a few moments, the bartender re-
turned with the drink and set it down on a “Oh forgive me! I didn’t know that you
house napkin, removing the twenty dollar were the resident gatekeeper.”
bill. “It’s a Seven and Seven. Her name by
the way is Nelly.”

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Revista Literária Adelaide

The bartender grinned solicitously. plaintive look on what normally would be a
“Look, do as you please. Just a word to the most fetching face. Arriving at the bar, she
wise: you’re wasting your time.” picked up the fresh Seven and Seven and
gulped it down. Placing the drained glass
“Just out of curiosity, how do you figure back on the bar, she placed her hand sug-
that?” gestively over Kit’s. “Can you give me - a
ride home?” she got out.
“If you have never seen a totally broken
hearted loser in a romantic attachment, “Sure, sure,” Kit Evans at once agreed,
now’s your golden opportunity.” lighting up. Taking the last sip of his own
Perfect Cosmo, he stood up. Nelly clasped
“Nelly-heartbroken?” him under the arm. “I guess that you were
wrong this time around,” he winked at
“The same. You see Nelly got the sack by the bartender, very much agog over this
the dude she planned on marrying…some pleasant stroke of good fortune.
Bantu buck from Zanzibar.”
The bartender remained stationary as
“Zanzibar?-Where the fuck is Zanzibar?” the couple walked off together. When they
were out the door, he peered about. There
“You didn’t do well in geography section, was only one middle-aged foursome re-
either. Zanzibar’s in Africa somewhere.” maining at a table. Twenty minutes before
closing time, in a little while they would
“Whoa! She was going to hitch up with a have to clear out, too.
black skinned, spear carrying savage?”
Figuring that he may as well start wrap-
“Look, when you reach the age of 35, ping it up, there were the lemon peels to
and all your girlfriends are already married dump, the olives and maraschino cher-
and have kids, you take what you can get. A ries to put away, the glasses to put on the
surfing instructor from what I hear, he was racks-the usual odds and ends. At one, he’d
10 years younger, too.” begin cashing out. When the waiting staff
forked over 10% of their tips, he estimated
“Wait just a moment! This story sounds that he’d net a clear hundred and fifty
implausible. How’d they ever meet?” non-taxable dollars. After helping himself
to a complimentary shot of Johnny Walker
“She went to Zanzibar-wherever that Black out of the manager’s sight, he’d hop
is-on a teacher trip that was supposed to into the leased Wrangler Jeep and head
last only 10 days. She wound up staying back to his crib. He had that league soccer
over a month.” game over at D & R Sports Arena in Tops-
field to get ready for the next afternoon.
“Shit! Did she come to her senses?”
Nothing really untoward had taken place
“She did when she discovered that her during this evening’s shift. There had been
future matrimonial partner already had not no loudmouths, no one he had to muscle
one, but two wives. As it turned out, the as- out, no suspicious underage drinkers he had
shole mercenary was only after her for the to card. Altogether speaking, it had been
entry papers… What a hard luck story for another night in a nice, clean place.
her! By all accounts, she truly loved him-or
believed she did.”

Unsteady on her feet, Nelly was ca-
reening back from the lavatory. A full figured
woman, there was no mistaking the utterly

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

About the Author

Robert Gamer currently resides in Danvers, Massachusetts. Learning from such masters as
Chekhov and Turgenev, he is working on a novel. When not writing, he continues to push for
protecting the environment and fixing the immigration system.

44

THE DYER’S
DAY OUT

by Nageen Rather

Reclining against the mud-plastered wall, Khan sat comfortably in a corner, took his
Gulzar Khan’s soft-natured wife Noor cup and sipped the first mouthful. Mean-
opened the copper lid of the samovar and while, he threw his wistful gaze all around
blew a mouthful of air into its chimney. Af- the kitchen.
ter adding a pinch of salt in the boiling tea,
she dropped the lid back with a shrill clank. The kitchen had been partitioned with
The steam that leapt out spread a milky a knee-high brick wall into two halves—
smell across the kitchen. the sitting side and the cooking side. On a
white-tiled shelf, over the mud oven, were
The birds were cheeping outside while the spice-filled glass jars. Steel, aluminum and
morning sun peeped through the window copper spoons hung on rusty nails driven
panes in the kitchen and caressed the sam- into the wall. At the centre of the kitchen,
ovar, scattering the light in all directions. dangling from a wooden rafter was a naked
The samovar, with the carvings of the chi- Surya electric bulb, its wire smeared with
nar leaves glittered as if it had been embed- the droppings of house flies. A dull grey
ded with diamonds. carpet covered the floor. Some textbooks,
a pen and a stub of a pencil lay sprawled
Noor dispensed the tea from the sam- on it. Large pictures of Nishat and Shalimar
ovar into two cups for herself and for her gardens were pasted on the mud walls. A
husband Gulzar Khan—a man of around J&K Bank’s calendar hung near the door.
fifty, a clothes’ dyer cum cleaner by pro-
fession, and a gentleman by heart— who When Noor saw the sixteen year twin
had just returned from the village’s kander daughters, Zainab and Zara enter, she
waan with freshly baked hot lavas. poured them the tea. They sat next to her.

It was just a single-storey house at Gu- Noor then sent her stare to the pressure
labgam, a small village in Pulwama, where cooker that rested on one side of the mud
they lived with their children. hearth; on the other side the burning twigs
crackled and flames from the dung cakes
Noor stood silent, waiting for the chil- continued to cook rice in a cauldron.
dren to serve them the tea while Gulzar

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

In a moment the lone son of the family, gate at midnight,” Gulzar Khan broke the
Sameer entered. He sat opposite the door, news, munching the bread.
still rubbing his puffy eyes. He had stayed
awake till late night because his college “Oh please, Baba! I get scared,” Zara
exams were going on. Noor strained the tea peeped, her eyes blanched with fear.
into a blue cup and put a few crackly and
puffy lavas, in the tray for him. “It could have been dogs. Sometimes
they batter the gates,” Noor said, guessing.
“Baba, did you pay the last month’s
money to the kandur?” Sameer asked be- “No, not dogs. He said he heard footsteps
fore soaking the piece of lavas in the teacup. too,” continued Gulzar Khan.

“Not yet, dear. Will do it on Friday.” re- “Thieves then. They must have come for
plied Gulzar Khan, tearing the lavas. the cattle,” Sameer said, slurping the tea
thoughtfully.
Right, but pay him on the promised date.”
Sameer said, concerned. “He too needs a “Shut up!” Zara exclaimed. “Keep your
lot of money for his son’s treatment. Or vil- wild guesses to yourself. You always talk crap.”
lagers will talk bad about us.”
Noor poured one more cup of tea to
“Dear, will surely do, on Friday. By then Zainab. She took a sip. “Army men, I think.”
only I would have made some money.” she said,
Gulzar Khan said with a tinge of helpless-
ness. “Who can say? But Akbar said that he
heard them talk in a language that he could
“Ok, Baba!”Sameer said and fidgeted not understand,” said Gulzar Khan.
with the cup.
Swallowing the lavas Noor said, “That is
Such a concern shown by Sameer, for the why I tell you to put off the lights early and
reputation of the family added to Noor’s sleep.”
worry. She stole a glance at Gulzar Khan and
they exchanged a gesture of inadequacy. “She is right,” Gulzar Khan said, turning
to his children. “It is not safe to linger long
“You know well, dear, we still owe ten in the dark.”
thousand rupees to the cow seller, Karim
Goor. His date is already due.” Turning to “If only we had enough money! Then we
Sameer, Noor said while stirring her teacup. could have erected a tall concrete wall all
around the yard,” said Noor, her voice tilting
Gulzar Khan sighed and everyone fell si- with anxiety.
lent for a moment.
“Baba, at least get the wooden
“If everything runs smooth at shop I will gate repaired. Its hinges are broken.” Zara
pay every debit in a month or two. Only demanded. “Even  a dog could knock it
if there are no killings, no protests.” said down.”
Gulzar Khan reassuringly.
“I will tell Majeed Chaan. He will come
“But it seems like in a dream. Such happen- and set it right,” Gulzar Khan assured her.
ings will never abate here.” Zara chipped in.
“Hell with this life here!” Sameer grunted.
“You know, at kander waan, Akbar Dar “Isn’t it better to die? One can’t study peace-
told me that somebody had knocked on his fully either outside or at home.”

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Revista Literária Adelaide

Hearing this, Gulzar Khan frowned at she knew that he was the lone earner in the
him; he wanted to say something, but he household.
didn’t.
“There is a lot to do in the shop these
“It is far better to be in some jail and live days,” Gulzar Khan said, wiping his hands on
at ease.” Sameer said and stormed out of a torn towel.
the room.
“First, get the news from someone.” Noor
As everyone finished the tea, Gulzar said.
Khan drew his jijeer,near him and stocked it
with tobacco. Zainab rose and, walking to- “Why? About what? Did you hear any-
wards the mud oven, fished out a spoonful thing?” asked Gulzar Khan.
of charcoal embers and brought them in
the kanged to her father. Then she and her “I mean, confirm whether all is well out
sister left to their respective rooms there. Is there a hartal in Pulwama? I wish
first you learn from somewhere,” she in-
Gulzar Khan collected the burning em- sisted.
bers from the kanged and placed them on
the chilim. He placed the pipe between his “No, there is no hartal today in the town
lips and took a few draughts. Smoke from as far I know,” Gulzar Khan denied.
the jigeer and steam from the samovar
seemed to be clinging to one another. The “Okay, then leave.  Naer khodayas ha-
air in the kitchen grew cloudy and pungent. wala; may God be with you.”

“How many times have I asked you to quit *
smoking? But nothing seems to affect you.
My God, when will I get rid of this damn Gulzar Khan boarded a Sumo, which ferried
jijeer from my house?” Noor nagged Gulzar local passengers, to reach Pulwama town
Khan. which was around ten kilometers away
from Gulabgam. He perched himself next
“Don’t curse it. It has been my solace, my to a man sporting brown beard who was
friend, in hard times.” Gulzar Khan teased. reading a newspaper. Gulzar Khan looked
out of the half-open window, murmuring
“Don’t you see on TV ads how injurious “God make my livelihood simple and easy.”
this is? But nothing seems to affect you as He was relieved to see children walking to
you watch anti-smoking shows with the school. The Sumo was moving at a mod-
pipe in your mouth,” Noor said bitterly. erate speed and a stereo with a blue light
blinking on its face was playing a Kashmiri
Gulzar Khan didn’t respond. Taking a song.
few more drags he looked at his watch and
stood up. He reached for the bottle of  P Gulzar Khan turned his head right and
Mark mustard oil on the mantelpiece and his glance fell on a bold headline in the
poured some of it into his left hand and newspaper spread over the brown bearded
gently applied it on his thin, dry and untidy man’s knees: “Another youth injured in
hair. firing succumbs” read the news.

“Keep the lunch box ready?” he said. “Oh my God, have mercy on Kashmir. You
are benevolent!” Gulzar Khan prayed under
“Okay, I will pack it.” Noor replied gently. his breath. He ran his hands over his head
She cared much for her husband because and kept quiet.

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

The driver suddenly braked with an abra- exception of some dupattas and two pairs
sive screech and waved to stop a car coming of pants hung on wooden pegs. A few piles
from the town. of badly stacked clothes awaiting their turn
in the large red plastic dying-tub added to
“Is there any danger in the town?” asked the unkempt appearance. The shop was
the Sumo driver after turning off the stereo. narrow and long, with shelving spanning
both sides. To the left stood the cash desk in
“Not now, but yes, there was little trouble the belly of which Gulzar Khan would keep
an hour ago—some stones were hurled and his customer register.
people were scared. But everything is ok
now. Go on.” the car’s driver replied. The “Asalamu-Alaikum, Khan sahib.”
Sumo drove on.
“Walaikum Salam.” Gulzar Khan returned
“What has happened?” asked one pas- the greeting from a regular customer.
senger from the back seat.
“Are you fine?” enquired the customer.
“Nothing. No need to worry.” replied the
driver. “Alhamdullillah. Alright. Kar sa hokum; tell
me what can I do for you?”
As the Sumo neared the town, Gulzar
Khan insisted the driver to let him off a few “I was waiting for you outside. But then I
hundred yards before the main market, as entered the barber’s shop and waited there.
that would be safer. You know there was a chagg a moment be-
fore.” informed the customer.
Gulzar Khan’s heart beat with a strange
feeling when he began walking briskly “Yes, we heard about that in the Sumo.”
through the market towards his shop on a said Gulzar Khan. “No one knows what will
road lined with shops selling antiques and happen the next minute here.”
art, jewelry, dry fruits and accessories. He
crossed the road and passed by the green- “Really, nobody knows. And, yes, are you
grocer’s shop full of fruits, the butcher with done with my clothes?”
his bloody lumps of meat on display, and a
book seller. “Yes. The pants are ready. I dyed them the
day before yesterday,” Gulzar Khan replied.
As he reached his shop, he looked
around. There were fewer people than Gulzar Khan slipped the folded pants
usual and only a few cars parked near his into a white polythene bag and handed it
shop. His shop was small, and wedged be- to the customer who in return gave him two
tween larger shops it looked as if it had hundred rupees and left.
been squeezed in. The peeling blue paint
on the signboard spelt out ‘Bright Colours’, After checking his day’s schedule, Gulzar
and beneath it, almost illegible, ‘Dyer at Khan pulled down two dupattas from the
Your Service’. shelves. But before he could roll up his
sleeves and pull up his shalwar to begin
Gulzar Khan unlocked the shutter. The soaking them, he saw a nearby shopkeeper
air inside smelt of chemicals and the walls pulling down his shutters. People were
were grimy with years of dirt, the cement scampering in all directions, some crying
floor streaked with different colours. The and some blowing whistles. Children too
clothes were crammed together, with the were wailing. Gulzar Khan stood bewildered
for a moment before he hurriedly put his

48


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