SPAM Excerpt

7/31/2019 SPAM Excerpt

1/25

SPAMA NOVEL

BY

ARNOLD GREENBERG


2/25

All Rights Reserved Clayfield Books 2011


3/25

For Diana


4/25

SPAM

CHAPTER ONE

Every morning at eight oclock Id make a cup of coffee and rye toast

with raspberry jam, go into my bedroom and turn on my computer. Id sit at

the little desk Lillian bought at a yard sale several years before she got sick.

I hardly used my computer except for e-mail, writing letters or the syllabus

for my courses at the university, but other than that I was pretty ignorant.

Facebook or youtube were not part of my universe, even though I often heard

people talking about them before I retired from the university.

Sipping my coffee, Id listen to the chimes, watch all these icons come up

and wait to sign in for my email. I had a plastic desk organizer with paper

clips, a stapler, rubber bands and several pens. I also had a small black filing

cabinet Lillian found at another yard sale and a cork board on the wall for

tacking up e-mails I had printed out to remind me of one thing or another. I

dont recall how it all started but somehow, every morning, I found myselfvery busy responding to the barrage of messages.

A photograph of Lillian was on a shelf just above my desk and Id look up

at her for a minute or two and sigh, feeling this pang of missing her, then

close my eyes and look away. It was my favorite picture of her taken when

she was in her thirties and there was something about her smile--as if she

had some private thought that delighted or maybe mystified her. It was her

smile that made me remember how full of life she was. She had large brownsparkling eyes and her long, dark curly hair fell below her shoulders--that

was before she cut it. Thinking about how she faded as the Alzheimers slowly

took her away was impossible to comprehend and I tried not to think about

it.


5/25

Finally, when the computer was ready Id write in my password Merlin125,

and get started responding to all the messages that had come in. Rarely was

there anything personal--sometimes an invitation for a gathering or lecture

by a visiting professor at the university but I always responded that I would

not be attending.

I had no interest in social gatherings and was content to stay home and

watch TV at night, not really caring what I watched. The only show I liked

was Jeopardy because I remembered how much Lillian had enjoyed that

show. She had such a good memory for facts. I didnt, but I liked how excited

she got when she answered before the guests. I found it was still fun to

watch, even though it often made me miss her more.

While watching TV I would serve myself two scoops of vanilla ice cream

in the little green bowl Lillian had made for me at the Adult Ed. pottery

class. I used the same bowl for oatmeal on the rare days I actually made

breakfast.

Sometimes Id drift into my old office down the hall, pick up a book and

then put it back on the shelf, but I rarely visited that room. I had taughtliterature for over thirty years but my interest in books had faded and I just

couldnt concentrate. In bed at night, Id try to read the New Yorker but

within five minutes, it would fall out of my hand and Id turn off the lamp

and go to sleep. They came each week and I had a large pile of unread New

Yorkers. Im not sure why I renewed my subscription. I also would glance at

the AARP Magazine cover on the day it arrived but never read any of the

articles.

I rarely went out except to go to the Save-Way Market for groceries--

mostly frozen dinners, cans of soup, a loaf of rye bread, a jar of raspberry

jam and I always treated myself to a container of vanilla ice cream,

something Lillian would have discouraged. Other than my excursions to the


6/25

market, my 93 Subaru sat in the driveway. I would glance at my horribly tall

grass as I got in and out of my car, remembering how Lillian loved to garden

and take care of the lawn but I just had no interest in taking care of it or

anything--thats how out of it I was.

This brings me to the day everything changed, the day I got the angry

note from my neighbors about my overgrown lawn and the day I met Emma.

It started out like a typical day. I watched the messages come and shook my

head when I saw I had twenty-five messages and could see it was going to

be another busy day. There they were--a message from Vista Investments and

the tin mine in Venezuela then A & G Mortgage Company with their 4.5%

interest and something about reverse mortgages. I always wrote back tothese companies, printed out all of our correspondence and kept them in the

filing cabinet. I even got calls from the A&G Mortgage representative, Stanley

Miller. I remember his pleasant voice and we often had pleasant

conversations. He told me about his sailboat and his two children but he also

seemed concerned about my finances after I told him about Lillians death and

the unpaid medical bills. He told me about reverse mortgages and how I could

use the money to pay my hospital bill, go on vacation or fix up my property.

Hed always end the conversation with, Youre missing a really good deal.

Another e-mail was from Cheaper Drugs, Inc. giving me the opportunity

to get all my medications at tremendous savings. This particular e-mail had a

special deal on Viagra. It said if I acted immediately I could get twenty

Viagra pills for $2.00 each. They were persistent and sent me messages every

other day with different offers. I sighed knowing I had no use for Viagra and

doubted I ever would. I glanced up at Lillian and then back at the computer

screen. Several other drug companies contacted me. Fortunately, the only

medication I was taking was for my enlarged prostate, but none of these

companies had the drug my doctor prescribed.


7/25

There was another e-mail from a company called Peek-a-Boo that said

they could put me in contact with sexy young women and gave an 800 number

to call. On the screen was a woman with long blond hair in a bikini with her

big barely covered breasts. Below the photo it asked, Do you like blonds,

brunettes or prefer young women who like older men? I also got an e-mail

from someone named Connie that said, Im new in town and horny. Give me a

call.

Somehow, I knew it was a way to get me to sign up for a dating service.

I received a lot of messages like that but for some reason, I wrote a reply to

this one telling her how sorry I was but my wife had died recently and I was

not ready to start dating. I felt a little foolish responding but it wassomewhat enticing to get that message. I even wondered if she would write

back. What was I thinking?

Again, I looked up at Lillians photograph, sighed and then skimmed the

list of messages. I saw one from the Dutch Bulb Company. They offered spring

flowers like daffodils and tulips and were offering a special gift of four free

day lilies if my order was over fifty dollars and I wouldnt have to pay until

after they arrived. I remembered how much Lillian loved to garden and eachyear added more bulbs, but that stopped when she started losing her memory

three years ago. Suddenly, the thought of planting flowers made me miss

Lillian and I deleted the message.

I glanced at the time at the bottom of the screen and saw it was

already 11:19. I was tired and sat back in my chair, rubbing my eyes. I looked

back at the screen and saw I still had many messages to read and respond

to. I closed my eyes and thought about how my corresponding to all these

messages made the time pass faster since the funeral.

I remembered the day all our friends had come and we had so much

food--corned beef, roast beef, pastrami, salami, coleslaw, Russian dressing,


8/25

pickles, all kinds of pastry and we sat around my living room eating, drinking

soda or whiskey, reminiscing--sitting Shiva--but then, a day later, the house

was quiet. During the first week, a few friends called to see how I was, but

after that, the phone was quiet and so was the house. I would sit at the

kitchen table feeling the emptiness, not knowing what to do with myself.

Thats when I started with the computer and my correspondence. I responded

to one email and then another and another, and there I was spending most of

the day on the computer reading and responding to the messages.

Now, on this particular day, tired of reading messages, I stared at the

screen and the messages but didnt move. Suddenly the screen went blank,

hibernating and I remember staring at the blank screen and thinking, Whatam I doing? I hadnt asked myself that question out loud, though occasionally

I felt the question lurking. But I managed to ignore it and shove it aside and

just came to my desk everyday with my toast and coffee and fill my time

with the email messages. A part of me knew I should stop but it was easier

to shove the thought aside then to actually stop. After a minute of staring at

the empty screen, I pressed one of the keys and the email messages came

back up. I shook my head at them and sighed deeply--thats what I do when

Im weary, take deep sighs. I glanced at the screen then looked back up atLillians photograph. This is nuts, Lillian. Why am I doing this? Im working too

hard. I need to take a break.

I picked up my cup and the plate with the pieces of crust from my toast,

wiped a few crumbs from the desk and walked out of my bedroom towards

the kitchen saying out loud, I wish I werent so damn busy. I need more time

for myself, and thats when I saw the envelope on the floor by the front

door.

Startled, I stared at its whiteness before reaching for it, getting down on

one knee. Someone must have shoved it through the mail slot. I picked up the

envelope then held onto the door knob to pull myself up. From your


9/25

neighbors was written on the front. The envelope was unsealed. I remember

trembling as I opened it, wondering why I would be getting a message from

my neighbors. At first I had trouble focusing but then read the typed

message.

We are your neighbors and are asking you to do something immediately

about the appearance of your property. It is an eye sore and you should be

ashamed of yourself.

The word eye sore was in large capital letters. The words, You should

be ashamed of yourself was also written in capital letters with several

exclamation marks. Ten signatures were under the words, Your neighbors. Ididnt recognize any of the names because I had never met them. They all

had moved in over the last three or four years. I remember the For Sale

signs going up as gradually all our old neighbors moved away.

I stared at the note and couldnt move. I was stunned and read it three

times. I felt attacked. After a minute or so I went to the large picture

window in the dining room and looked out at the lawn and knew they were

right.

It looks abandoned, I said. The grass was three feet tall and

dandelions and patches of grass were coming up between the bricks of the

pathway up to the house. I stared out the window, holding the angry note

suddenly remembering how friendly the neighborhood used to be when we

had backyard barbecues, birthday and graduation parties when the children

finished high school then college. I looked across the street where one of my

best friend, Max Rubin used to live then looked past his old place to where

Esther and Harold once lived and noticed the For Sale sign on the lawn. Now,

all of my former neighbors were living in Center city or moved to Florida or

to various parts of the country to be closer to their grandchildren. I didnt

know anyone on this street anymore except Charlotte and Morton next door.


10/25

He was chief of staff at the hospital and they still lived here, but I never

saw them. All the others were new arrivals and I would occasionally watch

them leave their houses in the morning, come back at night, carry in their

shopping bags, or on Tuesdays, take the trash cans to the curb. On Saturdays

or late afternoons, Id see them mowing or watering their lawns. They were all

much younger with small children and I knew nothing about them nor did

they know me or Lillian when she was alive. All they knew about me was that

my lawn was an eyesore.

I walked into the kitchen, holding the note and put the coffee cup and

dish in the sink and looked out the window at the backyard. The grass was

waist high and the flower garden that Lillian had spent so much time withbefore her illness was so overgrown with weeds that no flowers could be

seen. The small patio where we used to sit in the sun was now littered with

leaves, broken branches and twigs from the maple tree by the side fence that

shaded us from the late afternoon sun. I couldnt remember the last time I

sat out there.

I do remember sitting on the patio earlier in Lillians illness, admiring the

flowers. I remember how she smiled when I mowed the grass and weeded the

flower beds for her, but then I stopped when it was clear she didnt

remember she even had a garden. Now after two years of neglect it was a

mess.

Theyre right. I should do something but Ive been too busy, I thought,

suddenly feeling disgusted for ignoring the grass and other things. How

could I let Lillians garden get so ugly? Shed be so upset if she saw this

mess. I sighed again. I wish I werent so lazy, I said out loud looking at the

tall grass in the back yard.

I glanced around the kitchen at the large pile of mail on one of the

kitchen chairs and several other piles on the table--none of it personal, all of


11/25

it catalogues of various sizes filled with merchandise ranging from clothing to

swanky looking furniture. They covered the rear of the kitchen table and

were piled high on the floor along the wall, over a hundred of them.

I have to admit I often enjoyed glancing through the catalogues while I ate

because it took my mind off of the emptiness of eating alone. I had separated them

from the bank statements, telephone and electric bills and the invoices from the

hospital and doctors. I always put the bills in a pile and then thumbed through

the catalogues. It was the pharmacy bills that upset me the most because in

spite of my insurance I still owed them over twelve thousand dollars for

drugs that did no good and then the nurses that came to the house and

hospice. Once a month when the pharmacy statement came I called theinsurance company to question the billing but after being told my call was

being monitored for quality control and to hold for the next available

representative and listening to the music they were playing and then be told

how important my call was to them for the fifth time, Id either hang up or

get disconnected. I knew it was impossible to pay them the small fortune I

still owed, so each month Id wrap the bills in a rubber band and when the

next statement came I would call again hoping that one of these days Id get

to talk to someone.

Looking at the catalogues and remembering how nicely Lillian kept the

kitchen only made me feel worse. I felt stuck. What can I do? I have to do

something. I have to get my act together, I said out loud. I put the note

down on the counter and went to the pantry, got down another can of

chicken noodle soup and opened it with the white can opener weve had for

years. Im so busy with my correspondence I dont have time to mow the

grass. I shook my head and closed my eyes again. This is horrible. I need

help.

Suddenly, the door bell rang. Thats the doorbell, I said, startled by the

strange sound. I couldnt remember the last time I heard the doorbell. I have


12/25

to admit, I wasnt sure what to do but then I heard the chimes again and got

up and walked into the dining room. Glancing out the front window, I saw a

small blue pick up truck. When I opened the front door, there stood a smiling

young woman.

Hi, I see your yard is in trouble, she said, pointing to her truck. Im a

gardener and I do landscaping.

I glanced at the truck and saw the rakes, shovels and the top of a lawn

mowerthen looked back at her, surprised to have someone come to the door,

someone other than the mailman. Still stunned, I looked at the small woman

with long dark curly hair standing in the doorway wearing a red tank topthat revealed her stomach and slender waist, faded jeans, a green baseball

cap worn slightly to the side and dangling silver earrings. I noticed her brown

eyes, dark olive colored skin and could not help but notice her breasts

straining the tank top.

Yes, I guess you could say my yard is in trouble, I responded, moving

my eyes away from her breasts to the tall grass that covered the front yard.

Hey, youre Dr. Horowitz. I took your Shakespeare course about eight or

nine years ago. I loved it, she said, smiling at me.

Yes. Im Dr. Horowitz and I used to teach Shakespeare, I said,

surprised that she was a former student.

Oh wow! This is so cool, she said, shaking her head.

Whats so cool? I asked, repeating the word cool, feeling odd saying a

word I never used.


13/25

This. Being here, remembering. Oh, wow! This is so amazing! She looked

into my eyes. I couldnt wait to come to your class. Your class was my favorite

by far. She paused. Im Emma Langley.

I looked at her, bewildered by her excitement. You do look a little

familiar, I finally said, studying her face. But Ive had so many students. Im

not sure I remember you.

I came to your office a few times with questions. I loved your

interpretation of the sonnets. You just opened them up. I never liked

Shakespeare before your class. It was really special, she said.

Well, thank you Emma. A teacher always likes to hear that kind of

response, I said, noticing Emmas brown eyes sparkle as she spoke. I looked at

her, still surprised that she was there and how enthusiastic she was about my

teaching, especially after just getting such a horrible insulting note.

So, Emma, youre doing landscaping now, I said looking at her and then

glancing at the truck.

Yeah, just starting out--thats my friend, Joshs truck. I just moved back

here a few days ago from California and I have to do something to make some

money. Im broke!

Right, I said looking down at her petite body. She must have been about

five two and Im five-eight but I felt much taller than her. Well, lets talk

about this job. Take a look and tell me what you think.

Emma turned and stepped onto the brick path and surveyed the waist

high grass that covered ever inch of the front yard. Walking along the front

of the house, she moved the grass aside. Wow, theres an Azalea bush in

back of the grass, she said, turning to me in the doorway.


14/25

Yes, my wife loved Azaleas, I said

Emma looked up at me and nodded, Ok, let me see the backyard, she

asked.

She died eight months ago and Ive been too busy to keep up with the

lawn, I said, opening the door wider, inviting her to come in.

Well, sounds like you need me, she said, smiling at me. And I certainly

need the work. Sorry to hear about your wife. You must miss her.

I do, I said, nodding then quickly continued, The backyard is a mess,

too, so come, Ill show you, I said, closing the door and leading her through

the dining room to the kitchen.

Yeah, I loved your class, Dr. Horowitz and was going to take the second

half the next semester but I was having a hard time and dropped out and

went to California. I love to read but was always afraid of Shakespeare, she

added as we walked into the kitchen. But you made it all make sense. And Iremember how beautifully you read the poetry. I loved it. You were so

passionate, she said, looking at me, smiling. I never forgot your classes.

Thank you, Emma, I responded, noticing again how her brown eyes

sparkled when she said that. Its nice to hear that, I added, enjoying her

flattering compliments and her radiant energy as she spoke.

When we entered the kitchen and headed to the back door, Emma

stopped and looked around, Looks like you like catalogues, she said, glancing

at the piles on the kitchen table and floor.


15/25

Not really, I said feeling embarrassed. But they come in the mail and I

just like to look at them when Im eating.

She looked up me and then back at the catalogues. Scrunching up her

eyes, she frowned at me, Why? Its such a waste of paper and getting people

to buy things they dont need. Theyre disgusting, she said, shaking her head,

all those trees.

Youre quite opinionated, arent you, I said, stunned by her blunt

reaction to the catalogues.

Yes, I am. I say what I think, thats for sure, she said looking at methen back at the catalogues.

Well, I hope you will keep some of your thoughts to yourself when you

see the backyard, I said, glancing at the letter on my counter. Ive already

heard my neighbors thoughts about the front.

I opened the backdoor and we stepped out onto the patio. My

goodness, she said, looking out at the tall brown grass, the broken branchesand piles of dried leaves all over the patio. She glanced at me then stepped

into the yard, pushing the grass aside, trampling it as she walked over to the

side fence, slapping her arm at an insect as she moved the tall grass aside

with her hands.

Hey! There are all kinds of flowers here being choked out, she yelled,

frowning as she looked back at me, shaking her head in disbelief. She walked

along the brick edging buried in the grass then turned after reaching the

rear of the yard, brushing aside the tall grass. She continued walking, looking

down, stopping to get a better look at what was being smothered. A few

times, she got down on her knees, pushing the grass aside, studying what she


16/25

was seeing, while I stood watching her, wondering what she was thinking and

enjoying how intensely she was looking at everything.

I was fascinated by her and it felt strange, but refreshing to watch this

pretty young woman wading through the tall grass back to the patio. Standing

next to me, she turned to look back at the yard then took a deep breath and

looked at me.

It could be very beautiful here, she finally said.

Really, you think so? I responded looking at the wild tall grass.

It will take a lot of work, but I can do it, if you want me to, she

paused, looking up at me. I love to garden and I worked on a small farm in

California.

How much will it cost? I asked. I just have social security and my

retirement from the university. My savings all went to pay for Lillians illness.

I dont know how much it will cost. Its a big job and I will be chargingyou by the hour, she said, biting her lower lip, as she looked out the grass. I

was going to charge fifteen an hour but let me think about it, she added.

Well, Emma, I have to get it cleaned up. I dont have a choice. I want

you to do it. I paused, looking at her and could see she was thinking. Her

eyes were closed and she continued biting her lower lip.

!Im not a good business person, she said, shaking her head, looking at

me. Damn this is hard. I hate dealing with money.

Why is it hard? Charge me what you want. You need money and I need

my yard taken care of. Its pretty simple, I said.


17/25

Can I have something to drink? Emma asked.

Sure what do you want? I was surprised at her request. Do you want

water? Ive got some ginger ale, milk, opps, no the milk is sour. I threw it out

yesterday.

Waters cool, Emma said.

When we went back into the kitchen, I walked to the cabinet, got a glass

then went to the sink and let the water run before filling up the glass. I

glanced out the kitchen window at the backyard and wondered what it wouldlook like when the job was finished. While I was lost in my thinking, the

water spilt over the edge of the glass. I turned off the spigot and emptied

some of the water from the over flowing glass then picked up a coffee mug

from the dish drainer and poured myself some water.

Here, Emma, I said, handing her the glass.

Thanks, she said, lifting her glass up to click my mug. LChaim, she saidand smiled.

!LChaim, I repeated, chuckling, surprised at hearing her say that but

didnt say anything.

After taking a big gulp of water, Emma put the glass down on the

counter, looked at me then looked around the kitchen.

This could be a really nice kitchen with a little paint and sprucing up,

she said.


18/25

I glanced around the kitchen too, remembering how Lillian had kept it so

neat and how she was always making soup, baking bread, canning tomatoes or

making jars of strawberry jam from the pick-it-your-self farm we went to

every July.

!A nice yellow would brighten it up, Emma said. It could be really

sweet.

Guess so. I just dont have the time or energy after working all day on

the computer, I said, looking around at the walls.

What kind of work? Emma asked. Are you writing a book orsomething?

No, Im not writing a book, I said. Its hard to describe what I do. Its

mostly correspondence with different businesses. I get a lot of offers from

various corporations and agencies and I spend a lot of time keeping up with

all the details.

I see, Emma said.

Maybe one day I will write a book but right now, its all I can do to

keep up with my correspondence, I said.

Say, I have an idea, she said. How about when I finish with the outside

work, I clean your house and maybe paint some of the rooms, how about it,

Dr. Horowitz?

I looked around the kitchen again and then back at Emma. Good idea, I

said, nodding. Let me think about it.


19/25

Emma looked at me but didnt say anything. I could see she was thinking

about something, studying my face, squinting slightly. I wondered what she

was thinking but didnt want to interrupt her thoughts. She nodded as if she

knew what she wanted to say and was forming her words, getting ready to

speak.

I bet you were a good looking guy when you were younger, she said. I

mean, youre still not bad looking but you must have had lots of women after

you before you got married.

I chuckled, shaking my head, not having expected what she said. Thank

you, Emma but youre wrong. I didnt have lots of women chasing after me. Iwas pretty socially awkward, very shy and didnt date much.

Really, well, I remember when I took your Shakespeare class and

listening to you read the sonnets I thought you looked handsome. Your hair

was just getting grey and your beard, well its still just as shaggy as it was

then except its greyer now.

Well, thats very flattering. I never thought of myself as particularlyhandsome, I said, surprised.

Im embarrassed to say this now, but I think I had a crush on you, she

said, looking at me and then closing her eyes, took a deep breath.

Really, I said, surprised. I had no idea.

How could you? I was just one of your students. You didnt even know

me. Thats why I came to your office. I wanted you to notice me, but obviously

you didnt. She shrugged her shoulders. You were kind of oblivious.


20/25

Just then the phone rang and I raised my finger, Excuse me a moment,

I said, walking towards the phone on the wall. Who could that be? I asked

myself turning back to Emma and shrugged.

!Hello, I said, looking into the other room, Oh, hello Stanley. How are

you?

!I glanced over at Emma walking around the kitchen, looking at

everything, running her fingers over the counter.

No, I havent made up my mind about the reverse mortgage idea. Not

yet, anyway. Ive got a lot on my plate, these days, I said, watching Emmatouching the shelves, pushing the white curtains on the window aside, looking

at Lillians old green shirt still hanging on a hook by the side door, glancing at

the old photographs on the refrigerator, leaning forward to look closer. Emma

then stopped at the kitchen table, picked up one of the catalogues, thumbed

through the glossy pages, looked up at me and put her fingers on her nose,

holding it as if to keep a horrible odor away and formed the words phew on

her lips. She shook her head at me in disbelief.

Listen, Stanley, I have company now. I cant really talk now but please

check back in a few weeks and well see where we are. Thanks for calling, I

said, watching Emma toss the catalogue back on the pile.

When I hung up I walked to the table where Emma was standing. Sorry

for the interruption. Thats one of the business deals I am considering--

reverse mortgage. I get so many calls these days, its driving me crazy.

I dont believe you have all these stupid catalogues, Emma said, glancing

at the piles on the table and on the floor. You must have over a hundred

catalogues. She shook her head. Yuck!


21/25

They come in the mail every day, I said looking at the pile.

That guy Stanley, the reverse mortgage guy--did you respond to

something on the internet? she asked and I could tell she was thinking, her

eyes narrowing as she looked at me.

Yes, I answered, feeling a need to explain, A and G Mortgages had 4.5

percent mortgages and because of my financial situation, I thought it would

be wise to investigate refinancing.

I see. I bet this is why you get all these catalogues too. Theyre from

all the goddamn spam on the internet, she said.

Spam, what do you mean spam? I asked.

Are you serious? You dont know what spam is? she asked and I could

see her eye brows rise, her eyes widening, looking at me in disbelief.

Isnt it a breakfast food that comes in a can? I answered.

No, but its just as bad for you, she said. Tell me, Dr. Horowitz, is this

how you spend your days reading spam?

There are some really good opportunities offered and in todays

economy and with my financial situation, I have to be looking for ways to save

money and maybe even make money. My social security and pension arent

enough and now I owe thousands of dollars, I said, wondering why I was

defending myself.

Emma took a deep breath, looked at me then said, I dont know why Im

doing this, but listen up. Ill do your yards, back and front for ten dollars an


22/25

hour and if you want, Ill clean and snazzy up your house with paint and

some other things on one condition.

Really, and what is the one condition? I asked.

You stop dealing with all these spam ads and do something real. I cant

believe you are a spam addict, she said, shaking her head in disapproval.

Spam addict! Im not a spam addict. Im just working at making ends

meet and there are so many good opportunities. Im not a spam addict. Im

very prudent and I look for good opportunities, I said, feeling cornered.

Bullshit! Emma said. I told you I say what I think and if you will

excuse my big mouth, Dr. Horowitz, you are really in a bad way. Youre

screwed up.

!Screwed up, I said, stunned at her words, Screwed up! Im not screwed

up. I admit my grass needs cutting and Ive let things go around the house,

but that doesnt mean Im screwed up.

Youve tuned out, she said.

Screwed up, tuned out! What the hell are you talking about? What do

you mean Im tuned out? We just met a half hour ago. You dont have any

right to talk to me like this. Im not screwed up! I said, feeling my heart

pounding, my body tensing, my throat getting dry.

Looks like I touched a nerve, she said.

Who do you think you are? I asked looking into her eyes, alarmed that

I was having this heated discussion with someone I barely knew.


23/25

Im a gift, she said.

A gift, I responded, confused.

Yes, a gift, she said. You will see what I mean if you hire me to do

your yard and you accept my one condition.

This is crazy. I dont believe this is happening, I said, shaking my head,

looking at her, feeling completely baffled by what was happening.

So, do we have a deal? she asked.

Let me get this straight. You will come here and cut all the grass and

make these rooms snazzy. Is that what you said--for ten dollars an hour? Is

that the deal? I asked.

Yeah, but you have to give up the spam and do something real, she

said.

Something real, like what? I asked, still feeling I was being cornered.

Thats up to you--just no spam, she said.

!Okay, I guess. I just dont know what Ill do, I said

Youll find out. I know you will, she said.

Sighing deeply, I looked at her, shaking my head from side to side,

baffled by our conversation.

Emma smiled at me, reaching out her hand. Lets shake hands, she said.


24/25

I hesitated as she held out her hand but then took it and felt her firm

grip. I could feel her strength as she squeezed my hand. I looked at her

brown eyes, her long dark curly hair coming from under the baseball cap, the

dangling earrings, her smile, the dimples that formed, her breasts straining

against the tank top. Shes pretty, I thought as we shook hands. It was a lot

to absorb as I tried to comprehend her offer, her telling me she was a gift

and all that she said about the spam.

Suddenly, she stood up on her toes and kissed me on the cheek. She held

my hand when she did that and I felt her warm lips.

I was surprised by her spontaneous kiss and gasped. She didnt say aword and acted as if the kiss was a natural thing for her to do. She then let

go of my hand and looked up at me. I have to go but I will be here in the

morning to start work. Ill be here at eight on the dot, she said then went to

the sink, rinsed out her glass and put it on the drain board.

I watched her quick movements, noticed her snug jeans, her red tank top

with one strap hanging off of her shoulder and felt her youthful energy as

she turned to smile at me. A feeling of surprise still lingered from her kiss onthe cheek.

See you tomorrow, she said, walking towards the front room. I followed

her, glancing out the window at the tall grass, when she suddenly stopped

and turned to face me. Can I call you Peter instead of Dr. Horowitz?

Yes, of course, sure, I answered.

She then continued walking to the front door and opened it. I stood in

back of her. Remember, no spam.


25/25

Okay, no spam, I said, with a nod before closing the door behind her. I

went to the dining room window and watched Emma walking to the truck. She

walked quickly down the brick path looking at the tall grass. She then

stopped, kneeled down to pick the grey puff ball remains of a dandelion,

raised it to her mouth and blew, her breath causing the grey fluff to float in

the air like a bubble from a bubble pipe. She watched for a second and then

continued to the sidewalk. With a final glance at the tall grass, she got to

the truck, turned and saw me at the window then with a wave and a smile

she hopped into her truck and drove off.

Date post:	05-Apr-2018
Category:	Documents
Upload:	clayfieldbooks
View:	234 times
Download:	0 times

SPAM Excerpt

Documents