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Love and other tales

Updated on December 7, 2009

The beginning of a story from one of my collections.

Have you ever loved another so much that it became a part of every little thing you are. Every morning greeted with the happy thought of your shared life, the sheer joy of having them in your life. The moments away from each other ecstasy in the knowing you will soon be in their arms again, their eyes meeting yours in matrimony. This was such a love. This was what had shattered Darren Mont's world.

For Darren love was a funny thing. Few and far between the relationships of true romance had been in his life. He'd met Paulina Hope Talir five years ago. Dancing.


The car swept through the intersection of Broadway and Grand in what constituted downtown Boulder, Colorado. "It's supposed to be eighties night tonight, man." Tony Malton turned the music down so Darren could hear. "If nothing else it'll be fun to watch."

Darren turned left at the next intersection, glancing at Tony as he pulled into a space between a new maroon honda civic and an early nineties green BMW. "Yeah, it'll be alright."

Tony turned the music off. "Damn it man, you better not run off with another wife from this or I'm going to kick your f****n as*."

Two years before Darren and Tony had gone out drinking at The Dark Horse, a two story bar, club on Boulder's south side. Darren had ended up hooking up with a cute brunette, Christine who had been celebrating her twenty first birthday with some friends. Within six months the woman had moved in with Tony and Darren, breaking the one and only rule Tony had laid down since they'd been sharing a place. Within a month Tony had, accidently, forgotten to pay the rent and they'd been evicted. Darren shook his head. Here there be tigers, he thought.

Christine had ended up being one serious mess. Having been abused (according to her) as a child she had issues. It was only after, a bit soon, they'd decided to have a baby that Darren discovered she had a way of talking with her fists when he didn't see things her way. He put up with it, trying to talk her into going to a therapist with him, until her own family members had started taking him aside to ask why he put up with her. He left for six months, moving to Alamosa, Colorado.

It was the spring of Waco and Alamosa was a crazy place. The coldest winter temperatures in Colorado and surrounded by mushroom farms. With slaughter on the front page and the smell of crap in the air, Darren kept up communication with Christine, sending her money and trying to be as supportive as possible from such a distance. Just a month before the due date he'd driven an 85 Dodge Caravan back to Boulder. He got a paying job, shuttled back and forth between staying with Tony in Boulder and some good friends in Denver. He dated a wonderful woman, Erica, but was so caught up in his emotions for Christine that he couldn't really appreciate her. He cut it off just before the baby was born.

A huge harvest moon hovered just over the horizon as he drove to the hospital. The baby, Logan, had been born with long ragged nails and tore his mother up on his trip out. Darren held her hand as she cursed him, blood over everything as the silvery sheen of the child's crown broke through the scarlet.

They tried to work things out.

Darren worked twelve hour days doing piece rate work for a construction company. Good money, but he got home beat every day. He didn't know Christine was giving the baby kool aid and solid food during the day between nursings. The child was losing weight.

Back to the hospital.....

No, he couldn't go all the way back, it was too painful. He looked over at Tony. "It'll be nice to dance."

Tony guffawed. "You look like a frikkin eileptic having a seizure."

Darren laughed. "Yeah, I know, but it 's better than sex. Almost."

"Yeah, yeah," Tony shook his head. "First rounds on me."

"Cool," Darren glanced at the parking structure they'd parked beside across the street from the club. Like all structures in Boulder it was no higher than three stories. City regulations disallowed any building from being taller,. the general philosophy being that everyone should be able to admire the view of the Flatirons as they rose jaggedly into the sky beyond the city. They crossed the street to the club.

The building used to be a movie theater about three years ago. George Standard, one of Boulder's movers and shakers, had bought the building and transformed the interior into an electronica club. Within ten months he'd sold it to Stewert Gonnaday. Stewart had gotten approval from the city, put in a kitchen and tables, and opened the Glitzy Cameroon, an upscale deli. It had bombed and been turned back into a club by the current owners, a group of land holders from Kyoto. They let the management run the place as they saw fit and the management liked mixing things up a bit. Every night of the week Air, as it was called, featured a different music style. Tony had done his home work on this one, not only was it 80's night, but from nine to midnight the first round was free for ladies.

Darren paid the cover to get inside and let his eyes adjust to the darkness after the glare of the street lights outside. Tony jostled him from the side. "Why don't you grab a seat? What you want this time, black russian or dirty vodka martini?"

Scanning the room as they walked between the velvet ropes management had put up to corral the crowd movie theater style Darren called, "Black russian, it's early." Tony nodded and took off to the bar on the left as Darren followed the rope to the right. The ropes ended in brass work attached to iron wrought stair railings leading to a raised table area looking over the dance floor. Darren found some empty bar stools further back, along a side wall, and sat to watch and wait. Psychic T.V.'s rendition of 'Are You Experienced' pounded through the club's sound sysems, shaking the floor and making conversations just barely possible.


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