Between a Rock and a Hard Place

By Kaafra

Is love really blind? Was it a dream or not? In the dream she would always be packing her bags hurriedly. From a business trip he arrived to a shattered and rumbled house. She was gone and it was not a dream. Pride and self esteem had been ripped from his very existence. He had given of himself unselfishly and without question. She would return for the final blow that would stagger him between life and death, love and like. Would anyone care? Would anyone be there for him?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 19, 2014
• ISBN: 9781493165827

Book preview

Copyright © 2014 by KAAFRA.

ISBN:      Softcover      978-1-4931-6581-0

                eBook            978-1-4931-6582-7

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 02/17/2014

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FOREWORD

He was caught between an incredible past they had left him devastated and a future that was not promised. He never had to struggle for love, but time had caught up with him and now it was his turn. It was his turn to endure the pain of losing someone. His time to experience what he thought only happened to others who put themselves in harm’s way.

But fate and faith would happen along and give him hope. How much more could he endure? What would be his demise? Could he hold on any longer? What was in store for this young man? Would he be forever in limbo? Could his mental state withstand the torment and love?

Enjoy.

It was going to be a big sports weekend for me and the boys. We were going to a sports bar tonight to drink a few mugs of beer and have hot wings. The NBA west coast divisional playoffs were tonight. It was a deciding game for the semi-finals. Tomorrow was the second game of a ten game home stand for our baseball team. It was suppose to be a lot of fun, but there I sat relaxing in my favorite chair, listening to jazz on the radio and having a scotch on the rocks of course. I was holding the rim of the glass with two fingers and my thumb while the cold sweat from the glass dripped onto a magazine lying on the floor beneath it. This was becoming the highlight of my evening because I was enjoying my solitude. I was enjoying listening to the melodic song of the saxophone. But I seemed anxious within. Something was bothering me and something was about to happen. I didn’t have an idea of what was to happen, but I can truly say it was about too.

My loft apartment was clean and neat. The sunset was still glowing through the tall sheer draped windows. The windows were open on both sides of the apartment and the wind blew through one side of the room and out the other. If the white sheer curtains were colorful they would look like huge flags waving in the breeze. The atmosphere of the city filled the room. It was Friday and the city sounds different than any other day of the week. The early evening was alive. People weren’t uptight. They were happy, feeling good and romantic. I could smell the fried rice and shrimp cooking at the near by Chinese restaurant. The car horns honked because everyone had to get somewhere and get there fast. I liked where I lived. The facility was secure and had a guard twenty-four-seven. There was really no need to lock your door until you went to sleep. My friends who came regularly were familiar with the guards and had no problem getting in when I was home.

It was now about that time in the evening when the city traffic was slowing down and my best friend (a.k.a. 1-5-1) knocked and entered through the door while I was refilling my glass with scotch.

Dorian, what’s up? he said in that Cajun voice of his. What’s wrong? What’s that you’re drinking? What’s with the long face? We’re suppose to be have fun this weekend and you’re standing there looking all out of it.

I had not had a chance to answer a single question he asked. I hadn’t said hello. It seems as though he was reading questions from a list.

He continued. We’re still going out right? This place, it has a lot of ladies there huh?

On and on, then he stopped.

Hey man, how are you? Nothing… scotch… I’m a little tired from work. We’re still going out and yes there a lot of ladies there. There… I’ve answered all your questions. I didn’t want to seem rude but maybe I was. I’m just a little tired. It’s been a longer week than usual. It has been questions, questions, questions each and everyday. Sometimes I think I’m the only one whoever uses their brain. It’s so frustrating. Some people I work with don’t have a good command of the English language. Say one thing and mean another. It’s so simple to me. Sorry man, I didn’t mean to vent like that. Before I refilled my glass I was sitting down letting the jazz debrief me from this terrible week.

Well don’t worry about anything, we’re going to have fun tonight, said 1-5-1. By the way, you have anymore Crown?

Yeah, look over behind the mini-bar. There was some left from the last time you were here. Did you ever hear from Mother? Mother was another good friend of ours. It was a nickname we gave him because he was the cook in our apartment. The three of us were roommates at college and Mother was the cook of the house. That boy could cook. He would always keep 1-5-1 (who I will call Boz from here on out) and I on the straight and narrow. He was coming over for the fun weekend. He was having a little problem with his girl. The boy was in love and didn’t want to let us know for fear that we would tease him. But being in love was cool. It was cool if you could handle it. I mean, love is good, but when your girl is 500miles away. Hello! Every weekend is not a traveling weekend no matter how much you want it to be or to see her. They had to make some decisions and soon or this relationship would be over.

Dorian, Mother said he was coming, but he had to make a stop first to see about his SUV.

Okay, he’s coming. This will be good for him also. He needs a change, I said.

Time was moving slowly. Boz and I were just chilling, listening to some jazz and having a cocktail here and there.

Dorian seriously, what’s with the long face you had when I came in? he asked.

I was thinking about my ex-girl and trying to figure out what she was so confused about. We’ve been apart for six, going on seven months and it still bothers me. But I can tell you this, I’m moving forward. I moved two weeks after her disappearance and hadn’t looked back. I left no trace of being there. She doesn’t know where I live. I got a new cell because she took the one I had. My house phone is unlisted because of the telemarketers. I’m the closest person other than her few family members that she has here. It’s just strange. Are you feeling me? I asked.

Well yes… a little, Boz replied. But where do you go from here? You can’t go into a slumber every weekend or everyday over her, she’s gone. You’re young and have a lot to do, a lot to see, places to go and people to meet.

I know I have places to go and things to do. I know that I will meet other people. [silence] I did meet someone else. Believe it or not, she didn’t look confused about anything. Well maybe she was confused about calling me Dorian or Big Daddy, ha-ha. I don’t have any problems when it comes to her. But before she came along I did have a problem finding the right girl. What could be wrong with me?

Only you can answer that. Maybe you’re looking for too much in a young lady. No one is perfect he answered.

He was right because I had been looking for Miss Perfect and should have been just trying to find Miss Just Right. I’ve found her.

You know what? My new acquaintance Jill is really nice. She has pretty eyes, shoulder length dark brown hair, a smooth caramel brown face and lips that seem to have been drawn on. She’s hot man and gorgeous. Enough of this, it’s not making me feel any better. Where are the guys?

Just about that time another one of the boys knocked and entered. It was Keith, the joker in the bunch.

Hey fellows, what’s up?

Dude! said Boz. How’s it going with you? I haven’t seen you in a couple of weeks. Where have you been hiding?

Man I have been out there working hard. My job sent me out of town for a couple of weeks and I didn’t return on the weekend because I was having too much fun. I was in Atlanta and you talk about pretty ladies. Damn! Everywhere you looked. I knew that I couldn’t get hung up on anyone so I just partied with a couple of co-workers there. I had a blast… had a blast. I may consider moving there. If I’m asked to relocate I may consider. It’s a thought. It seemed like all the ladies drove BMW’s. They even rode motorcycles. I didn’t realize how hot they looked on bikes and we’re talking the crouch rockets.

Sounds great man, I said. That boy could talk. I better ask him a closed question or this could go on all night. Do you think that they will be asking you to relocate soon?

No, but I will be traveling there more often. You know, like every six weeks I’ll have to make that trip there to do follow up work. But for now, it’s our night and Atlanta isn’t moving away from the face of the earth. Where’s the beer?

It’s over on that back wall in the fridge. It’s the old refrigerator with the sprout on the front. Oh, you hadn’t seen my latest contraption. I have beer on tap now. I found an old refrigerator, pasted and varnished sheet music onto it and drilled a hole in the center face for a sprout. I even made a little drip tray for it. I thought it was a clever contraption. What do you think? Oh! The glasses are in the freezer section.

This is cool man or should I say cold, he said as he smiled from ear to ear. Fill it up! Well, tell me what’s been going on with you guys?"

Nothing much man… work, chilling and having a good time in the city, said Boz. I’ve made a few trips myself, but nothing like yours. I seem to only go away for three days at a time, during the middle of the week and then to some little town where livestock are more plentiful than the citizens. The highlight of my trip is leaving to come home.

It was my turn to enter the conversation. I hadn’t gone anywhere either, that is, since I left seven months ago and was gone for a [Knock, knock, knock]. Someone was at the door pounding it like a crazed person and had interrupted my uneventful last seven months story.

Who is it? I asked.

It’s me, Sam. Open the door clown.

It’s open and we have your clown, fool, I said. Sam was a good ole boy. The boy could dress that little frame of his. He was sharp all the time. I don’t think he owned a single pair of tennis shoes. He had casual, dressy, and formal shoes, but no tennis shoes. That was strange to me. What did he wear when he went to the gym or played ball or went jogging. Oh, I forgot he didn’t do those things. He despised sweating. He’s a strange one, but good people. He would give you his last dime if you needed it.

How’s everybody? What on the agenda? I thought there was suppose to be women here? What are you knuckleheads doing? Getting drunk? Ah come on now, Sam said. We’re suppose to be going out

Hold your horses now and don’t get your boxers all bunched up. For once in your life you’ve been on time and now you want to rush everyone else. Chill, have a beer or a cocktail or jump out the window if you like. We’ve got time to spare. I had to calm him down. He was hyper.

The four of us sat around in the entertainment area reminiscing about the past. We laughed so hard when we thought of some of the foolish things we did and didn’t get hurt. Then the conversation turned to sports. Now we bickered back and forth on who was the greatest from marble shooting king to sport fishing finest. We talked for no reason, just talked. It was probably to hear our own voices. It was about that time the cocktails started working their magic on us. The time when all of our strengths turned to weaknesses and our demeanor became silly. We were just trying to out talk each and no one was winning and no one lost. So we became subtle and just listened to the jazz and thought to ourselves. Good vibrations filled the apartment. We were glad to be together. It only took one person to say the magic words.

Boz said it, I love you guys like blood brothers.

Not an Indian among us. Where did that come from? The rest of us chimed in affirmatively. We were chilling when a knock, knock, knock was upon my door again, but lightly this time. I wasn’t expecting anyone else. I got up from my seat and walked towards the door.

"Who is it?’ I asked.

It’s me, Dorian.

I had heard that voice before, but didn’t recognize it. Who, me?

Me. Eve.

Eve? I was stunned and yet knocked to my knees to the reality of who it really was at my door. It’s Eve. My heart was pounding. I was squinting and blinking my eyes trying to come around from a K.O. that had knocked me to the mat again. Eve, what are you doing here? What do you want? I thought. I can’t let her back in my heart, but it’s Eve. The door was still closed.

Open up and let me in, she said from the other side of the door.

Was this a setup? I didn’t know. Besides, security had an eye out for all the residents and they were watching to see if the resident would let them in. Why had my thoughts gone there with a simple knock on the door? The boys hadn’t heard who I was talking too they were still talking amongst themselves.

Who’s at the door man? someone hollowed.

I’m opening it now, I