Fore Square

By Jessica Leatherman

—-E.R.M.—

“You’re just an Epi Retinal Membrane. A film. A clear tissue that grows over the fovea, the center most part of vision, without cause. Removed in eye surgery.” What I say to myself, when I see them with him.

At only 19-years-old, Rose Manleather met and fell in love with a rich married innovative business man. She told herself if she met him twice, it was destiny.
But after their second meeting, she saw in her minds eye that she needed to improve her own life and that love would find her again. After she had her life on track and both were single. She let El. Even Long go, feeling confident that life would bring them back together when timing was appropriate. Rose then meets and inspired by 7th Day Adventist, Dr. Rancheros and his family. She begins doing sled work to clean up her way of living.

But locker room talk and misinformed rich women gossip rips and isolates Rose from her community and her chosen family.

From unfortunate and unfair beginnings, Rose just thought life was always hard. But after parting ways with El. Even Long, life got substantially worse. An over 20 year mystery proves dark and sinister secrets that are keeping Rose’s life on hold and preventing her from achieving her goals.

What the group of people do to Rose and her children, Morgan and HRB, will shock you!

A cover up in epic societal proportions involving flash mobs, hidden cameras, a pop music singer, phone stalking, forgery, subliminal sound and imagery, NDA’s, messages hidden in the media, and hired health care professionals. All tactics used to force Rose Manleather to shut up!

And all along the way, a cruel pattern named Agent Orange continues in Rose’s life.

Will Rose ever see El. Even Long and Dr. Rancheros again? Can she expose the truths and get her voice back? Can Rose get free from the bondage that has her in misery and on hold? Or has her life been so ruined by lies and corruptness that Rose Manleather and her children are stuck hidden and controlled forever?

A life’s story told by a collection of short stories involving many characters starting in Rose’s childhood to present day. All this weaved together for the reader to come to their own conclusion on what happened to and will become of Rose Manleather.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 16, 2022
• ISBN: 9781669839934

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Copyright © 2022 by Jessica Leatherman.

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.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 07/26/2022

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

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Contents

—St. Even’s Hair Spray—

—Boom Bloom Day—

—Penny Postcard—

—Mrs. Graft—

—Chocolate Milk—

—The Grieving Mother—

—Aunt Miriam Miscarried—

—Dr. Patchwork—

—Aerial’s Baby—

—Justice Department—

—Rubber Band Grand AM—

—End OS Copy—

—Adma Unrein—

—4th Pillar—

—Uncle Hatter—

—Mrs. Gravy—

—Closing Cash—

—Chest Protector—

—E.R.M.—

—The Hereford Queen—

—Oil Change—

—Faceless—

—Footprints—

—Jump—

—Paternity Results—

—InstaPots—

—Uncle Hatter the Car Mechanic—

-—EARTHQUAKE!!—

—Skunks, I have known—

—Uncle Hatter the Wedding Coordinator—

—Type B or A—

—V Knows—

—Mr. Ewe—

—Crocodile Wallet—

—Love Box—

—Year of the Dog—

—Locker Room Liar—

—Hippos—

—Mel Doorsee—

—Yay Hidey!—

—Exotic Dancers at Your Service—

—Rose’s Ice Cream Social—

—Lousy Louise—

—Stinky Pinky Trick Truck—

—Eye See You—

—Spider Beef—

—Retrack—

—Turkey Demir—

—It’s just a Glitch—

—Kit Car Clock—

—Frik—

—Schooling—

—Cook’s Family Funeral Home—

—MonteRey—

—Refrigerator Raider—

—Sub Dom Sound—

—Password—

—Annulled—

—Uncle Hatter the Parking Lot Attendant—

—Soccer Mom—

—I.S.S.—

—OS—

—Epi phany Day—

—Uncle Hatter the Phone Operator—

—Colleague—

—Mouse in the House—

—Hotel Horror—

—LuLa Roe Leggings—

—Haircut HRB—

—Sony—

—Supreme Pizza—

—6 Foot 7—

—Fur Elise—

—It’s a sheet—

—Trip Trap—

—Uncle Hatter the Marriage Counselor—

—POW WOW—

—Dragonfly Lawn—

—Over It!—

—Empty Vases—

—Jane—

—Grandpa Lollipop Died—

—ATM College—

—Flew the Coop—

—Gravel Gavel—

—Problem Solved—

—Rico Suave—

—Fibromyalgia—

—Satel-late—

—Costa Rico Ram Wrestling—

—Stella—

—Spencer’s Son—

—Morgan’s Landing—

—Alopecia—

—Lollipops are for licking 101—

—Lollipop—

—Plus Shipping—

—Colored Pencils—

—It’s on the House—

—Cuckoo Call—

—Prince Tuesday—

—Bell’s Pal Sy—

—Earbud Pro-gaming—

—Lollipop’s Apartment—

—AZO...ABC—

—Tis but a Scratch—

—Show me the money—

—Anonymous Donor—

—RoSx Cataract Dinner—

—Nefertiti Graffiti—

—The Scrambled Egg District—

—Sundown Touchdown—

—Snap That—

—Alter—

—Pontiac, Eh?—

—Reflected back at Ewe—

—Deaf Leopard—

—Phone Number—

—Miser Diva—

—On My Oats—

—Potty Break—

—PollyAnna Wanna Cracker?—

—Exupery—

—When in Brazil—

—Kilo—

—Dirty Bird—

—Kevin, Kevin, Kevina Bacon—

—Turn Over—

—Boot Strap—

—Dead Leopard Print—

—Grounded—

—Purse Rose—

—Face the Facts

—Dis Dyslexia—

—If at first you don’t succeed—

—Hole in One—

—Devil went down to Georgia for a wedding—

—Leggings Aren’t Pants Ladies—

—You’ll need to Pay for that—

—Fortune 500—

—Pickle Ball—

—Caught Ya! —

—Three’s Company—

—Ante Up—

—Stained Glass—

—Pilot Light—

—Ellen G. White of the 7th Day Adventist Church had amnesia.—

—Droid—

—Concrete Safari—

—Journalist Journal—

—Mercury—

—Subliminal Sound Apps—

—Supermarket Squares—

—Rey Skywalker—

—Moscow Mule—

—That’s Her! —

—Kitchen Scissors—

—The Jethrow’s—

—Tamoxifen—

—Space Peanuts—

—Baby Alopecia—

—Morgan—

—Blue Leotard—

—Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease—

—Scholar’s Bowl—

—Dr. Kevin—

—Dahlia—

—Stupid is as Stupid does—

—Sunglasses—

—Family Reunion on the Ranch—

—The Host by Stephanie Meyer—

—Golf Handicap—

—All Yeast Rise—

—Stupid in Training—

—Judge Judy—

—Legend—

—Religious Rose—

—My son made a friend—

—Bazil—

—Card is in the Mail—

—Car Shopping—

—High Gene—

—Russian Roulette—

—First Class—

—Don’t be a Jan—

—Invite—

—Four ladies and a Funnel Cake

—Carpet Cleaners—

—Anthony Bourdain—

—Nora Red A Line—

—7 years—

—After While Crocodile—

^—By Nature’s Way and Sting—^

—Gypsy Eve—

—Construction Paper—

—AAA Baseball—

—The Vault—

—Blessing Box—

—Retirement Age—

—Heirstylist—

—Slithered to the Pulpit—

—Little Red Hen—

—Dancing Naked Women—

—Chinese Restaurant—

—OS Door Scratches—

—Bowl-cut HRB—

—OSawatomie—

—Pizza Slut—

—Tackle on the 50 Yard Line—

—Betty can Read—

—Blue Healon / Blue Heron—

—Pavlov’s Bell

—Guess Who—

—Wells Fargo—

—Cobbler—

—Ukulele—

—Hotel Files—

—Main Characters—

— A scan B scan—

—Thrift Shop Hopping—

—Hall Mark—

—Brazilian Witch Braille—

—Not Playing Games—

—Short Term Memory—

—Frank and Beans—

—Hat—

—Soda Pop Fizz—

—Rest or Nots—

—1Federal Offense—

—Odd OS—

—Earnest Echo——

—Photo Dynamic Therapy—

—Lime Disease—

—RRR—

—Your Ho’Nor—

—Abuse Victims—

—Las Vegas—

—Cucumbers 2 for $1.00—

—Atheist Dad—

—Molecule the 4th—

—Confessions Jan. 2016—

—Lemony Sled Work—

—Blurb Visions—

—Space Balls—

—Words by Mr. Worldwide—

—Momma Small Frame—

—Chip Monks—

—Days Post Operation—

—Hog Wash—

—Life in the Fish Bowl—

—Ruptured Globe—

—Slap Stick Comedy—

—Gym Rat—

—Branding—

—Surgical Hands—

—Independence Day— 7/4/2022

—(Hugs)—

—Ladder Day—

—Prom King—

—Taking the Droid— 7/14/2022

—St. Even’s Hair Spray—

St. Even had a drivers permit. The convenient store was just around the corner. I teased him with my truck keys. He couldn’t get into any trouble, I thought. I kept getting ready to go out. 10 minutes go by. I hear my brother open the front door and run up the stairs. He tossed me 2 bottles of hair spray and said I didn’t know what to get you. So I grabbed Raven and Salon Selections. I laughed. He stalled and then said, Sis, I got pulled over.

I freaked, You were only gone 10 minutes!

Yeah, but I don’t know how to drive a manual.

Oh shit, I forgot I haven’t taught you that! How did you even make it there? St. Even is a few years younger than me. That was my first apartment. He came over to spend the night.

I’ve been watching you drive. He says. The gears kept grinding and your truck died a bunch. I told the cop I was getting my sister hair spray. The cop followed me back here to your apartment. He was laughing so hard, sista.

Oh my god! All that in just 10 minutes. I said

Yeah, he told me to not to drive again until I get my license. We both laughed.

What are you gonna do while I’m out tonight? I asked.

I don’t know. Guess watch Tommy Boy over and over. You don’t have cable and it’s the only movie you own. St. Even said.

—Boom Bloom Day—

My boss told me to sit in the corner station for her event that night. Said if she needed me, she’d let me know. Otherwise, it was my job to stay out of the way. She was having an open house showing off all the new cash registers that she had recently acquired. There was food, drinks, reps and patients. My coworker Pinta laughed and oddly teased, You think some rich man would walk in here and fall in love with you? I just looked at her. I’ve never been one to kiss and tell. My personal life has been private. Until they stole my phone journal. The story that Locker Room Liar and his wife Ms. Diva blabbed all over town repeatedly through the years sounded familiar. But one major league detail was wrong. But nobody ever asked me what that was. So I never told. And no rich man walked in that night. The night does remind me of my baseball diamond days, as a teen. I went to watch my late brother play a game. I was talking with some friends of mine on the other team. Laughing and making plans for after the game. A female relative yelled at me to get back to the family and sit with them on the other side. I did as I was ordered.

—Penny Postcard—

The stands were full and I had to sit on the bottom step. My relative and her husband were sitting at the top. I started to feel wet droplets on my skin. I looked to the sky but there were no clouds. I felt it again and saw a wet sunflower shell on my arm. My relatives were spitting sunflower seeds on me. She then heckled at me that I acted like I was too good for them. The people next to me got up disgusted to leave. She sat with me in the bleachers. I was only 13 that summer. Cindy gave me a job as an umpire. It was dark and only the field lights were on. We were alone. She was a stout woman. Told it like it was with no filter. Nothing offended her and no joke was off limits. I was the only girl she ever hired. I really didn’t fit in around the ball diamonds. I’m not sure why she gave me the job. But she kept me under her wing. She asked me what happened during the baseball game. I told her there was a parent that got upset about one of my calls. I threw out all the people from both teams in the stands. Told them to wait in their cars until the game was over. She laughed. We sat there letting the mosquitos eat us for a while longer. Cindy wasn’t mad but she told me I couldn’t throw out all the fans anymore. Only the person that was the offender. I understood. A few years later, I was on summer vacation and wanted to get Cindy a gift. I needed something clever for Cindy. A Penny Postcard. I wrote on it. Cindy, I wanted to get you a bikini but I couldn’t find a box big enough. So I got you this Penny Postcard. When I saw her at work that next week, she was quieter with me. More than usual. When she went to close up the recreation building, Cindy said to me, I got your mail. You’re funny. Know what else? You’re jail bait. But I’m not going to explain that to you. And that’s what makes you extra funny. Have a good night.

—Mrs. Graft—

Rose was 6 years old and in elementary school. The counselor, Mrs. Graft, told Rose that she could write to her about anything and put it in her mailbox outside her office. Mrs. Graft told her that everything she wrote would be kept safe. She would then go get Rose and invite her to sit in her classroom on carpet squares to talk about her letters. Rose told Mrs. Graft that her father had hit her with his belt. She asked Rose if she had any bruises? She said that she didn’t have any visible bodily marks. Mrs. Graft then told Rose that if her father had been hitting her, that she would have proof. She then made it clear that Rose was not to write anymore letters. But Rose kept writing to Mrs. Graft and telling her the same story. Mrs. Graft then took all of Rose’s letters and read them to all the other students to prove to Rose that she had not been beat by her father’s belt.

—Chocolate Milk—

Rose was walked down to the principal’s office by Mrs. Westfield. Her and Mr. Kost told 6-year-old Rose to have a seat and they handed her a chocolate milk. They told Rose that they knew she had been writing letters and talking to Mrs. Graft. Mr. Kost told Rose that it was time for her to learn to hug herself in times of trouble. He showed Rose to outstretch her arms and then then wrap them around herself and (hug). Rose did as she was instructed. She embraced herself and then looked out the window and saw some kids raising the American flag in the school yard. Rose took her chocolate milk and left the principal’s office.

—The Grieving Mother—

She said that Pinta’s’s baby didn’t wake up. I had just seen her last week. Healthy and happy. Brought her to the office to show her off. I broke down to tears instantly. Everyone else stayed composed. My boss was the one to tell us. She had lost an infant too and seemed to handle it well. Almost too well. I told her I didn’t think I could go to the funeral. I’m a sensitive person. My boss insisted, saying that if it had happened to me, that I would want the support. I agreed, she was probably right. I went home that night, feeling sad. I got on my phone and ordered a black jumper from the local boutique. The lady told me that she would deliver the clothes to my home, special. As she had heard what happen to my friend. Then I ordered flowers to be delivered to the church. I go the funeral and my boss has on the exact same black jumper I just bought. And the florist hands me the flowers I ordered with a card en scribed To the grieving mother.

—Aunt Miriam Miscarried—

Morgan came home from his grandparents and shared with me this morning, that he feels terrible for his aunt. He’s too young to really understand. But he knows that she’s lost something. I’m surprised to hear she’s trying again, to have more babies. She’s 39. When I expressed to her, 6 years ago, that I’d like to be in a relationship and try again; I was told my baby making days were over. That I needed to let it go. Aunt Miriam then asked for the breast pump that she had given to me at my baby shower. I was never able to use it and Aunt Miriam told me she knew I couldn’t. And since she had been the one to buy it for me; she wanted it back. No amount of vitamins or supplementation gave liquid gold. Their family then asked me back for their crib. The one I used for Morgan. The same one they all used for their babies. I kept it stored in the hoarding garage. As it was not so secretly called.

—Dr. Patchwork—

He was always in the break room at the hospital during my lunch time. It didn’t matter what shift I was working. There would be Dr. Patchwork. As always, he’d be happy to see me and would come ask how me and my son had been doing. He’d ask if he could sit with me. We didn’t work directly together but everybody knew who Dr. Patchwork was. He worked around the clock delivering babies. Amazed me how he could remember me and my baby after all the patients he’d helped over the years. He always told me we were a special case to him. I had gone to him for Clomiphene Citrate Acid prescriptions. Dr. Patchwork even remembered my sons name, Morgan. He would recall that during my delivery he ordered extra bags of Pitocin to assist me in delivery. More than the average requirement. And that I needed lots of IV fluids to prevent dehydration. He’d always ask if I kept the monthly sonograms that he performed on the house. He’d laugh and refer to the pictures as the family album where it showed my baby transitioning from a tiny heart beat to a string of pearls spinal column to an alien blob that finally took hold of human formation.

—Aerial’s Baby—

A few weeks post-delivery and the baby was good. Easy. Never needed much more than his bottle and snuggles. This was Aerial’s first baby. Had everything she needed and was on schedule to go back to work. Aerial and her baby both liked the radio on. With so much alone time, she became aware of the sounds to her apartment. The creaks of the floor, the coos and cries of her baby, the stomps and schedule of her upstairs neighbor. But also the weird static noise that seem to come from her radio. She ignored it at first. But as the days passed, the static seem to grow more audible. Aerial wondered if she needed to get outside or call a friend. She loaded up her newborn and went to lunch. She did this several times to show off her new bundle of joy. But each time she came home, the radio seemed to have that same speech. Ordering directives on how to behave and what to say and not say. The voices told Aerial to drop her baby. She threw out the junk and bought a different radio. Her baby and her danced to new music. Until the talk came back to trumpet. She turned it off. But this time the static came through her phone speaker. As Aerial’s baby grew, she would tell him stories of the whale Shamu. Her son would be in the car seat and she’d tell him how sad the whale would be that she couldn’t swim in the ocean. She’d play music in the car for her son. She would also tell him about the story of the children’s book The Whale’s Song. And then the weird static would come through her car radio and interrupt her from speaking. The static would tell her to shut up.

—Justice Department—

I would like to apologize to the justice department for driving while intoxicated. I was of legal age and within legal limits. I had my ID. I knew what I was doing when I got into my car. I appreciate your fair judgement and leniency in the ruling against my case.

—Rubber Band Grand AM—

The engine sound was that of a rubber band popping in his new Pontiac Grand AM. It was a full day’s drive to Georgia to my cousins wedding. I was 6. More curious and talkative than most kids my age. Grandfather would tell me to have a contest with myself to see how long I could hold my breath. Each time seeing if I could beat my longest record. All the guests were bragging that the groom’s mother was well known in Germany for her bakery and had catered the wedding. Cakes, cookies, pies, breads, and custards had been specially flown in. I had never seen so many creations and designs displayed. All so beautiful and extravagant. I watched the groom and his mother walk the reception. Speaking only in German, smiling. Obviously proud.

I took a bite of my first cookie. But it wasn’t right. I spit it out. My Grandfather was a little upset with me. I grabbed another treat. Again, I spit it out. My Grandfather told me that if I did it again, I wouldn’t be allowed to have treats. I tried a pie. It too was sour. I couldn’t hold it. I spewed it out. My Grandfather took the napkins and discreetly covered all my treats. He threw them all away. But I wasn’t disappointed he took the desserts away, they were awful and I was telling the truth. We sat there silently while the other guests ate their reception treats. Soon though, everybody in the room began to do the same. Covered their treats with napkins and threw their desserts away. My Grandfather leaned in and whispered, Rosie, it looks like everyone is beginning to agree with you. A person asked the groom and his mother for the recipes. It turned out, the part of Germany her bakery was located did not have sugar.

—End OS Copy—

The elevator doors opened and the nurses carted off a tall gray haired man. I recognized who he was immediately. The same man I caught rummaging my kitchen a few years ago. I had just got home from night school. Let myself in the front door and James darted out my back door. I chased after him to my Grandma’s house, who lived next door. Once we got inside, he denied everything. Offered me a slice of pecan pie. Told my Grandma he had never been to my home and that I was lying. We sat at her kitchen table eating pie together and I questioned myself on everything that had just happened. I went back to my place and found my cupboard doors all opened and the knives on the counter. Today, I’m covering the endoscopy unit. And as James laid in the hospital bed he sat straight up and with glee said Wow, Jesse you have really came up in the world! You work here now? He told me he had a piece of steak stuck in his throat that needed sucked out. I asked how he it was possible he could talk to me. He told me he didn’t know. But he was glad to see me.

—Adma Unrein—

He was the gifted class and wore button down shirts, my friend Adma Unrein told me I should get tested too. We were in the 5th grade. Adma wrote me letters daily. One was asking me if I knew what the yellow greenish stuff was when he woke up one morning. I told him I didn’t know. He was always eating pork rinds. He had one leg shorter than the other and bounced when he walked. Adma needed a tibia transplant. The doctors used a pig bone and he told me that one day it would grow to full size. Adma helped me study for the gifted test. I was struggling to pass. I’m dyslexic. The teacher told me if could get one more answer correct, that she’d let me into the class. She showed me a picture of a thermostat. I told her that was what it was. The teacher told me I was incorrect and that it was called a house thermometer. Adma would follow me all over the playground and make me and our friend Shauna Pilgrim laugh until she fell out of her chair. This was the same year I read Diary of Anne Frank, even though I promised my Grandfather I’d wait until I was older.

—4th Pillar—

"I keep working the show Hereford at the feed lot. She’s my fav’rit. And Dad keeps rebrand’n her at the grain elevator in the park’n lot.

We’ll train her up. If we cain’t brake her, them there tree frogs will hit her. That’ll learn her!

—-Brand’n

—Uncle Hatter—

Rose went to visit her uncle for the weekend. He had gifts for her boys. He was so generous since her divorce a few years ago. He got them toy guns. They played with them in the back yard. He told her to make herself at home. Said he had errands to run and will be gone all day. She had nothing to do. So she sat outside and watched her kids play like soldiers. She scrolled her phone and looked at social media. She started to get anonymous messages. Always happened while she was alone. Nothing new. This behavior has been going on for a couple of years. Always the same dialogue. Slut shaming, bad mom, fat pig, ugly, whore, stupid. The usual stuff. The only thing that changes is the account and name of the person messaging her. Sometimes there are a few accounts messaging her at the same time. A few people behaving the same way. Rose always does the same routine and apologizes for not being good enough. The anonymous account suddenly blocks her and is deleted. As if it never existed. She cries and and tells herself the person will eventually move on and stop abusing her. She looks up from her phone and watches her kids playing with their toy guns. Rose’s stomach starts to hurt and she needs to use the restroom. She turns to go inside and just then in walks her uncle to say he is taking them all on a surprise trip to Italy.

—Mrs. Gravy—

Her oversized nose was always in a good book. Mrs. Gravy was the wife of a doctor who could afford all the cosmetic procedures to keep up with the Jones’ gossip. Mrs. Gravy would always talk to me about her son, John. She made it clear he wasn’t allowed to visit her anymore. She said the problem was his state of mental health and fits of rage. And that he blew up too many things. She told me that while John is very smart and can figure anything out, that I shouldn’t talk to him. I told her I understood. Mrs. Gravy congratulated me on my recent artwork competition and brought in blue ribbon ice cream for the office to celebrate. I was too busy working and it melted before I could make it to the breakroom. Mrs. Gravy later