Show 'Em What You Got

 Show 'Em What You Got

Anthony had a job lined up before they had even left New York. Two years after they moved in together, a four-day trip to Hawaii allowed him to make it happen. While Gina toured Pearl Harbor, Anthony was busy building his future. He started by calling the local head of Sears' Home Improvement Division in Honolulu. Then he walked into the man's office and waited. 

And waited.

For hours.

His persistence finally paid off. Impressed by the young man's determination, the boss handed Anthony the number of another ambitious Italian on the other side of the island.

Anthony called immediately.

The following evening, he and Gina met Sal P. and his Japanese wife, Kiki, for dinner. Sal owned the local siding company, whose 

slogan proudly proclaimed, "Steel Is for Real."

Over dinner, Anthony's confidence filled the room. He had already proven he could communicate, but Sal still had one question.

"Can you run a company?"

Anthony never hesitated.

"I can."

Sal wasn't completely convinced, but he admired the conviction.

"Come back in a few months," he said. "I'll give you a job. Then we'll see."

It wasn't a promise easily made. Sal had heard plenty of confident talk from would-be employees over the years, but few ever lived 

up to their own words.

Anthony intended to.

The truth was that he knew nothing about installing steel siding. He was a roofer by trade. But he learned quickly, worked relentlessly, and before long had impressed the hell out of Sal.

In return, Sal became more than an employer.

He taught Anthony how to sell. He patiently corrected his terrible spelling. In another life, Sal had been an English teacher, but wanderlust had carried him far beyond the classroom. Business had become his new adventure.

The partnership flourished.

Within a few years, Anthony was running the company while Sal focused on sales. Their strengths complemented one another, and the business prospered.

Eventually, Anthony felt the pull to build something of his own.

Sal wished him well, knowing that independent spirits are rarely meant to stay in one place forever.

Soon afterward, Sal moved to Saipan to launch several new businesses. Kiki had lost her battle with an aggressive cancer, and Hawaii no longer felt like home without her. Rather than dwell on grief, Sal chose another beginning.

Anthony hired a trusted local employee and continued building his own success. Business was good, and he never let anyone forget who he believed was carrying the financial load.

As his confidence grew, so did his need to remind Gina who was responsible for their lifestyle.

He often told her he was the earner in the family, as though his paycheck gave him the final word. Eleven years older than Gina, he believed age and income entitled him to authority. What had once looked like confidence was slowly revealing itself as control.

Anthony had built his career through persistence and determination. He had earned Sal's respect by proving himself, one opportunity at a time.

At home, however, he expected respect without question.

There was a difference, though Anthony rarely saw it.

 

I'll Show You the World

 I'll Show You the World

He said, I'll show you the world,
and Gina—still soft with the faith
that good hearts recognize good hearts
mistook a wolf
for a man carrying flowers.

Anthony knew every beautiful sentence
that sickness could wear.
He stitched himself from borrowed sorrows,
made every old lover a villain,
every scar a medal,
every lie sound like survival.

She believed him.

She believed tears meant truth,
that broken men only needed love,
that promises were maps,

not traps.

So they married
before the echo of warning
could catch its own breath.

He gave her rings,
stories,
and ghosts with different names.

Lola became the monster.
Laundry became betrayal.
Cold takeout became proof.

Children became witnesses
in a courtroom built from his delusions,
where Anthony was always innocent
and someone else carried the blame.

Then came the Chevy Blazer
iron crashing through the fragile theater,
truth arriving without knocking,
headlights cutting straight through
his careful performance.

Still he called.

Still his voice wrapped itself
around her hope
like ivy around a gravestone.

Still she believed
the next apology
would be the honest one.

So they crossed an ocean together,
newly married,
chasing the paradise
he'd painted in impossible colors.

Hawaii waited,
green and breathtaking,
while beneath every postcard sunset
his darkness unpacked itself
one lie,
one wound,
one cruelty at a time.

He had promised her the world.

He never mentioned
he meant
the one he had already
set on fire.

 

Blank

 Blank

Face it, Gina
you are clueless,
the perfect rube
for his brutality.
And not much has changed.

You tried to leave,
but he kept pulling you
back into the maze,
where every exit
looked like forgiveness
and every promise
turned into another wall.

You stayed mired in the bog
for years,
calling survival

something nobler than fear.

Now you're old.
The Rose of Rosendale
has wilted,
yet somehow
you're still wet behind the ears,
still believing
the next apology
might bloom into spring.

It's 101 degrees, baby.
Maybe you could cool off
in the Dunk Tank,
let the shock
wake you from yourself.

Forget the past.
It has already taken

more than its share.

Hypnotize yourself.
Plan a future.
Hop on a new freight train
one that doesn't circle back
to the same forgotten station.

Wreck what's left
in cat years,
shed every borrowed skin,
and walk away.

You do remember
how to walk away,
don't you?

Because the door
was never locked

Only your hope was.

Writing A New Book

 Writing a New Book

The process can feel like a rewrite—
a better-edited version of the past.
But who would read it?

Time is precious and fleeting, especially lately.
They say memory is unreliable.
How many people will forget these last several years?

Some say to start with an outline.
Others say to write immediately, while it’s fresh, while the anger still burns.
And over the years, I have been very angry.

But now it is late spring, and I have a remarkable story to tell—one filled with strange adventures and unforgettable characters: Katya M. Cartouche, a black cat; Tiki, an eight-foot wooden yet mobile Indonesian tiki; Gina, beautiful and innocent despite adulthood; and Anthony—the Roman with the hooded beak—from Naples. There is also a dead ex-husband and a time machine.

Tony used to tell Gina that no one is truly good.
He said it often.

What he meant was that no one is entirely bad, and no one is entirely good.
People are complicated, unpredictable creatures.

For Gina, letting go of the safety net felt like jumping from a perfectly reliable airplane. The first step was the hardest. After that, she simply had to trust that the parachute strapped to her back would open and carry her safely down.

It did.

And the book clamoring to be written could become a bestseller in some universe willing to accept the truth as Katya and Gina understand it.

Right now, though, they are knee-deep in the swamp, while the ticks cling on for dear life.

…

And soon, all the masks will come off.