Bobby, Carolina. The Novel

By Anthony Marchese

Returned from Afghanistan and Iraq, he is physically fine but suffering emotionally.

She has recently arrived from her war torn home.

Together they remind each other of the strength within and the possibility of Love in every moment.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anthony Marchese
• Release date: Aug 11, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386226765

Anthony Marchese

Anthony Marchese is a writer and filmmaker. Originally from Detroit, he traveled and lived outside the US for ten years. Having returned his life revolves around his son and his work.

Book preview

Reveilly

She seemed to be rummaging around in the other room.

Do you mind if i rinse a bit before i go?

Was that a voice speaking.

Mumbling.

Scattered words slip through the mist of post coital bliss.

Pussy

Clean

Water

Hot

rinse

Sink

Kitchen

Toothbrush

I hope she did not want to clean her vagina in the kitchen sink with my toothbrush.

The shadow appeared in the door.

A whisper

Is it cool if i rinse off a bit?

Yeah.

Which sink do you want me to use?

Bobby pondered the question.

Anywhere but the kitchen sink. Was that the saying?

No

Everything but the kitchen sink.

What the hell was that supposed to mean

A basic statement.

Blurted out

mentally

A rhetorical thought.

You wanna use the tub, a question an offer

shit

now she is going to be here for hours.

She will use the loofa on her stretch marks.

Honey can you buff my stretch marks. Darling.

My conditioner for her pubes.

Though I do not recall any getting in my teeth

as there seems to be a noticeable lack of hair.

There

Where

normally would be covered in

under

wear.

Use the tub if youd like.

She will remember me as one of her more civilized shags.

Ok. A whisper.

That is thoughtful.

If she is in the tub she will be less likely to use my toothbrush to scrub her punahny.

God forbid if she found the electric toothbrush with the gum attachment

she would be in there all day rubbing on her cervix.

Is that even a pleasure spot.

Who knows

G spot.

Clitoris

A man can not be expected to know every secret pleasure spot on a lady he has only known for assorted hours.

Though show and tell can be fun.

It has been so long since we had a partner that was at a place where we could play show and tell.

Nowadays it is all

question

answer

location

now

hard

quick

everyone gets off the express

and then to scotland

one takes the high road and one takes the low road

anything to avoid human interaction.

The water was still blasting.

It is a great shower.

That shower head is one thing that actually stays with me.

What else

the skillet.

the hand carved wood spatula.

my coffee cup.

Grinder.

The simple things.

The little things.

life is in the details.

Coffee.

I would love a coffee.

as always.

Just let her leave.

Be patient.

Try to be a gentleman.

Even in this world of faceless

nameless

soulless shags.

One night stands.

Fancy a root the one said.

She knew her pleasure.

We are all here together.

Forever

No matter what the weather.

The forest

The jungle.

The snowy mountains

the dry parched desert.

Dont.

Just relax until she is gone

then we can make some coffee.

Maybe write a bit.

It is not like we ever sleep

anymore.

Dreams are not the happy place.

Too many faces.

From all of the many and varied locals where i was blessed to bless in my travels.

Travails.

Contrails.

Christmas sales

The grinder was what

10 bucks.

With an adjustable grind wheel.

So i can cowboy.

I can drip.

I can one cup

I can stovetop espresso.

The sock method.

Soap.

Do not go there.

Just fuckin leave that shit.

OK she can be gone now.

Just let her rinse.

You would appreciate it if the roles were reversed.

A moment to cleanse.

I would take a year.

Perhaps a hundred.

Those old gray criminals sending the lambs to the slaughter.

No sending the lambs to slaughter.

Go kill our enemies.

The water is cleansing her.

I hope it is working.

Just a girl.

Who knows if she is nice or not

––––––––

The moment

when you wish

with every ounce of your being

that she would be gone.

No matter whom she is.

Should I tell her how delicious she was.

Fantastic nipples.

Lightning in a swimming pool.

A mouth like a pizza oven.

lava flames shooting out as from a flowing volcano.

and when I feasted on her.

brown sugar cinnamon

smooth and creamy

skin like a speckled hen.

a leopardess.

though she moved like a cheetah.

and cheetahs do cry black tears.

that was interesting.

to deliver a real pounding

and hear a whisper

more.

a little girl oliver

a wild cheetah.

ensnared in the lions grasp.

and the lion took her

and left his mark

and not just his teeth marks

everywhere

every inch a delight.

with or without illumination.

I ruminate

while she tries to collect and dress in the dark.

just leave. and I will be alone.

leave and I can close my door

and lock it.

and finally close my eyes

to see once again if sleep will come.

shuffling of feet.

things being gathered.

a door opens.

a door closes.

close door

close eyes

after a night of open

everything

close that book

eyes closed

will sleep come

please.

please let me sleep.

let me dream

as a boy

before

i learned so much

better not to know.

the rising sun

creeps

in a crack

in the drapes.

morning already

darkness not longer.

Shadows flee.

A motionless figure lying arrow straight on back.

Light seeps in.

Forms begin to escape from shadow.

a man lays on a bed.

On his back.

Motionless.

bare walls.

spartan dwelling

More light seeps in.

Just as the mans face is determinable.

readable.

visible.

the eyes open.

no sleep.

no dreams.

a whisper

Reveilly

Rundown

A run down section of street.

a wide avenue

car moving in one direction

hanging street signs

weeds growing out of the cracks

broken

cracked square of sidewalk

uneven

an unused fire hydrant

a long fire truck

with a driver in the back goes

sirening

by

work to do

lives to save

a large steel roller gate covers the front of a building

a glass door next the the steel wall

a beauty salon

large egg shaped hair dryers lined along

and going deep into the space

figure going to the left

and figure going to the right

a figure

shadow

starts to come out of the back walking towards the front window

the shadow gets larger

and walks to the door

the door opens

she steps out

a striking face

with a huge head of curlers

literally curlers

every curler a different color

on top of her head

on each side of her head

head covered in curlers

she walks a few steps in front of door

places herself smack dab in the middle of the sidewalk

steps hip to a side

arms crossed in front

she looks in front of her

A wide avenue

broken sidewalk

weeds

streetsigns hanging

bricks cracked

a huge steel gate wall

a girl stands in the middle of the broken sidewalk

arms crossed

hip to the side

staring straight ahead

not looking

not turning

not smiling

not frown

just standing completely motionless staring ahead

with a huge head of curlers

she shifts her weight and her arms hang by her sides

she hold one elbow with the other hand

neck goes bent a bit

she stares straight ahead

a person texting that is staring at you and you think they are taking a phone photo of you

a crazy person pretending to speak into the cellphone

a smoker

ignoring the world

in their addiction of poison

funded researched frauded

manslaughter

but this female figure with the huge head of curlers does not have a cell phone in her hand

she does not seem to be crazy nor speaking into anything

her mouth is not moving

and she has never smoked

a relative

or she had positive reinforcement to be strong and not fall for peer pressure

or madison avenue pressure

its toasted

fucking murderer

she stands there motionless.

in her meditative state of siege

my liege

A dusty tumbleweed rolls down the street.

To rest at her feet.

Beat.

Yet beautiful.

A passive face. Unmoving looks into the distance. Staring into nothing.

Hands hang at sides.

As we watch her we begin to realize an over whelming sense of tranquility.

No movement. Thus no wasted moves. A calm setting.

Setting over us as we watch her.

Ruddy complexion. Clear eyes.

though tired.

At peace

though exhausted.

Legs

long thin legs.

Sandals.

Short shorts. Not too short. She does not care.

A black tank top.

Everything skin tight.

Showing everything

though she is completely oblivious to any overt affect this might have.

Freckled.

Long neck.

Long arms.

Long torso.

Long legs in her sandals.

Morning.

Bright.

Huge curlers in her hair.

Different colors. Making her head huge.

As she stares impassive ahead.

Into nothing.

Bliss.

She is standing in front of a beauty salon.

Hair dryers in windows.

Women milling around inside.

She stands immobile on the sidewalk.

A huddled figure approaches from the side.

Sonrisa de sombra

el recuerdo

amor

un amor tan lejano

un amor tan sensible

mi amor

A shadow as she smiles

The remembrance of love

A love so far away

A love so powerful

My love

The hint of a shadow behind her smile

The woman with the curlers shows a sign of recognition.

Curious

eyeing the tiny figure.

¿Carolina? Is that you? ¿eres tu?

The figure hesitates then turns towards the voice.

The female with the curlers staring perplexed at her.

Excruciating turn of the head as the tiny figure turns to be face to face with curlers.

The tiny figure smiles and comes in for a hug. Slow embrace.

No words as they squeeze each other. A kiss on each cheek.

I didnt see you Luna. A whisper. No te vi Luna.

In a long while. Luna says. Years. Mucho tiempo. Años.

I just got back. Carolina glances down at her feet. Hace poco tiempo que yo regresé.

Casi no te conocí. Almost didnt recognize you. She says. A happy lilt to her voice. toda cobierta. all covered up.

¿estás bien?

How are you?

el tiempo pasa . . . Carolina with a sigh. Time passes . . .

. . . y nos vamos poniendo viejos. Luna finishes with what seems like the lyrics to a song. Te pareces mi abuela.

. . . And we all grow old. You sound like my grandma.

Luna comes close to Carolina and caresses Carolinas cheek.

She looks her up and down.

il babushka también. ¿porque estás covered up like a nun? ¿como una monja? join the cloister?

Carolina matches the appraisal as she looks Luna up and down.

Commenting on what Luna is wearing.

I am a bit