It’s late, and Larry stares at the annoying white Wordperfect screen on the desk in front of him. His elbows rest on the desk, his head between his hands. The last sentence on the screen (part-sentence, to be accurate) stares back, mocking him.

He needs a word.

On the screen, in the story, he has Frank, a government operative who works for a secretive agency, in conversation with a co-worker.

Frank looks over at Mitch and shrugs. “We’ve been dealing with these guys for awhile. We knew what they could do in a situation like what we got here. So I suppose this whole thing was

Larry starts to type “inevitable,” but pauses and backspaces it out. Frank wouldn’t say “inevitable.” He’s a big old gruff type; he reminds Larry of that guy who played Elaine’s dad on Seinfeld. He can’t remember the actor’s name, but if they ever made a movie about Frank, that would be the guy to play him.

Lawrence Tierney. It comes back to him.

But Lawrence Tierney is dead now.

Inevitably.

Larry reconsiders “inevitable,” dismisses it again. It carries a sort of “gloom-and-doom” connotation, anyway, and that isn’t exactly what he wants Frank to be communicating in this scene.

“Likely”....? No, too indefinite. “It’s likely we’ll have rain today” could mean 51%. He needs something a little stronger, but something that Frank would actually say.

Teresa walks into the room. “You’ve been looking at that screen for twenty minutes.”

He grins at her. “Yeah, just stuck at the moment. Trying to find the right word.”

She laughs. It’s that laugh he loves so much, the one that has punctuated their eight years together. He thinks if he ever went deaf, that laugh is the thing he would most miss hearing.

Wind chimes at dusk.

“Well,” she says, pulling him back into the now, “I’m going to the store. You need anything?”

He looks up at her. She’s barely changed in all this time; still recognizable as the little goth girl who walked into his life, walked up to him while he was eating lunch at a seedy little diner, trying to figure out what to do about his house, trying to deal with seeing himself on the TV over the diner’s cash register, way back when....

He can barely remember his life before her.

“I could use some more Pepsi, hun....”

She laughs again. “I know, you’re dangerously depleted. Down to sixteen cans in the fridge. I’ll get you some more.”

She bends over and kisses him on the cheek. Sparks. Still sparks....

He looks up at her and is suddenly struck with the realization that everything that matters to him in the world is here, right here, in this little house: his dog, his writing, his music....and Teresa.

He reaches toward his pocket, for his wallet, which isn’t in his pocket; but the movement is reflexive. His wallet is in the bedroom, on the nightstand. “Do you need any money?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’ve got plenty.”

It’s a little ritual they go through every time she goes to the store late at night. He asks if she needs any money; she never takes it. Old habit. Comfort.

He has never felt so much comfort.

She points at the screen and says, “OK, now while I’m gone, you better get back to work. Finish that sentence, at least!”

As she walks out the door, she stops, looks back at him, and sighs. “You and your Pepsi. Larry, you are so predictable!” She laughs again and walks down the hall.

Predictable.

Larry looks at the screen.

So I suppose this whole thing was predictable....

It works. Frank would say “predictable.”

He glances over at the doorway. She’s standing there, holding the big purse she’s used on and off for years and years.

“Back already?” he asks, ever the consummate smart ass.

“No, sometimes I just like to look at you.” She smiles. “I love you, but you’re still the most predictable person I ever met! Not that this is necessarily a bad thing....” And she’s gone again.

Predictable.

Yeah, Frank would definitely be OK saying “predictable.”

Larry realizes that, anytime he’s had an empty space, a zero, a gap, a blank, a void, something missing in his life – Teresa has always been there to fill it.

Always.

She’s so predictable that way....

“Frank, you and I are two very lucky guys,” he says to the screen, as he starts typing again.

========================================================

Merry Christmas, sweetie....

That is fantastic ...

...eagerly awaiting the rest of the novel

Dedication.

(((( Lex )))))

I too am waiting for the Novel,,, I so enjoy reading your work,,,

Ah lex...

I always knew there was something about you I liked. I still don't know what. I just know that I do...

Your the best, I wasn't kidding! Nial

Absolutely beautiful.

ohhhhhhhhh, wow Lex this is amazing, waiting for the rest my friend, wooooo hooooo....

As always Lex awesome read

....as is the one for whom it was written....

WOW.!!!! LEXMIESTER

Lex!!!

I want to by your books when they come out!!!