Views and Mechanics Publisher's Note Editor's Note Review of Language and Mind Review of This Is My Best Review of Lost in the Void Crossword (Solution Posted in September. Printable version in pdf format of journal.) May/Jun Crossword Solution Creative Nonfiction Puttin' on My Pearls By Cathryn Braswell My Dinner with Gacy By Andy Martello Mysteries of the Shenandoah Valley By Casey Clabough Getting Lucky By Dale Purvis Poetry Your Mind and You Are Our Sargasso Sea By Lita Sorensen Midsummer By Lita Sorensen Windows By Lita Sorensen Simple Man By B.K. Birch The View from Here By Mary Hudock The Dinner Party By Ruth Mark Fiction It's in the Stars By Linda Gallant Potts An Intimate Evening with Papa By Lance Garrison Ballard The Prank By Terri L. Knight A Pocketful of Starflakes By Leslie Wolter Cover Art Photography by Seth Brown About the Contributors © 2006, River Walk Journal and respective authors and artists. All rights reserved. Do not use or reproduce without permission. River Walk Journal, Inc. Board of Directors Chairman - Elizabeth Ross Vice Chairman - Joseph Koch Secretary/Treasurer - Geri Stock-Ross Editorial Director - Patti Kurtz, DA Literacy Director - Bill Mausteller Policy Director - PA State Rep. Jess Stairs Advisory Board Chairman - Patti Kurtz, DA Asst. Chairman - Dan Lachenman, PhD Samuel Hazo Christopher Leland Edwin Yoder Joseph Bathanti Journal Staff Publisher - Elizabeth Ross Editor-In-Chief - Joseph Koch Sen. Fiction Editor - Patti Kurtz Sen. Poetry Editor - Neeldhara Misra Sen. Creative Nonfiction Editor - Brenda Coxe Contributing Editor - Robert Dittman Publicity Director (PA) - Geri Stock-Ross For information about submissions, visit http://www.riverwalkjournal.org/submission.html. Questions about promotions, subscribers' services, and advertising should be sent to publisher@riverwalkjournal.org. River Walk Journal, Inc. is a non-profit corporation run entirely by volunteers. For information about volunteer opportunities and internships, visit http://www.volunteermatch.org/results/org_detail.jsp?orgid=58479. |
It's in the Stars By Linda Gallant Potts Do you ever feel that no matter what direction you take, you’re gonna wind up in the same place, like the hands of fate are pulling the strings and setting things up to happen for you? Well, that’s the way it is for me, because no matter what I try to do to get a fresh start and change my man-lovin’ ways, destiny seems to jump right in and take over. Before you know it, Marion Cormier is a-goner again, falling hook, line and sinker for some guy with a twinkle in his eye and a promise in his pants. I swore after Joe Doucette I’d given up on men. Wasted four of my best years, worked my damn fingers to the bone to help him open the finest bingo hall in all the Maritimes. I was there from the get-go, working out details and scrimping to help him raise enough money so’s the bank wouldn’t think he was a good-for-nothin’ when he showed up for more. We were set to make a killing at Maid Marion’s Bingo Palace. Shit, I even got to dreaming about Joe popping the question. But he had no trouble forgetting me once some hoity-toity, nipped and tucked hottie from the city started showing up this summer. Might’ve known when he started to press against the back of her chair and lean over her cards that way that he had a different kind of jackpot on his mind. I got so fed up that I finally just took off. Might’ve stayed and put up with his straying if he’d been the first guy I’d known to be a whole lot less man than I’d thought, but he was the last in what seemed a mile-long line. Not one of ‘em ever turned out to be the marrying kind. Here I was again, on the wrong side of fifty, feeling so miserable that I just packed my bags, got in my old ‘79 Corolla and drove. Heck, I didn’t even know where I was headed, but when I saw that big old concrete Confederation Bridge up ahead, I dug into my wallet for the thirty-nine dollar toll and hit the gas. Figured once I was on the mainland, destiny would just kind of take over again, and my old Toyota shitbox would find me a new place to call home for a while. Halifax’s karma felt right. Had seven letters in its name too, so maybe its luck would rub off on me. Might be a place where I could start over without someone spying over my shoulder. There’d be no old ladies whispering about me behind their church bulletins on the steps on St. Anthony’s on Sunday mornings; no more Mr.Arseneault at Melvin’s Convenience store asking why I don’t give an honest working man like him a chance. The minute I arrived, I got out of my car and walked down to the wharf. The salty air felt good. I took a deep breath and started to plan my next move. I had a little money, but I knew without a steady job, there wasn’t a chance in hell someone would rent me an apartment. Instead, I checked into the nearest fleabag motel, kicked off the high-heeled sandals that were torturing my feet, and lit up a cigarette. Then I grabbed a pile of magazines that someone had left behind, and like a neon sign, there it was: a “Glamour Cosmetics” catalogue, plain as day pointing me in the direction I was supposed to go. Heck, I could sell cosmetics. I called the number on the back of the catalogue faster than a jackrabbit and before nightfall, met my distributor, Lucille Boom, and got my starter kit, complete with samples and catalogues. Lucille was a sweetheart. Not much to look at, mind you, which made me wonder how the hell she ever sold make-up to anyone, but she was mighty impressed with the way I did mine. I’ve always said, “God didn’t give us nothing that can’t be improved upon,” and I told her that, and she said she thought I’d be a natural for the job. She even covered the start-up costs for me. I figured her being so nice was another indication that this career move was in the stars. That’s how it started all over again. It was my very first day, and I planned on hitting the townhouse complex near the motel first. Lucille told me it had lots of buyers. I think she was also figuring my car might not get any farther anyway, ‘cause I caught her looking at my old wreck out of the corner of her eye in a doubting kind of way. Anyway, I got myself gussied up to look my best. Wore my black tight skirt and my off-the-shoulder pink top, and of course, my black high-heeled sandals, complete with ankle straps. For good luck, I put on my silver anklet with the horseshoe. I took extra care doing my face up, fluffed up my hair just so, and off I went. For a second I thought the old Corolla was gonna die when I pulled into the visitor parking lot. I’m only five feet tall without my stilettos but I swear right then I wished I was small enough to hide under the dashboard. Thank God no one was around. Then I checked my make-up and touched up my fuchsia lipstick so I’d be a good example of how great you could look using Glamour Cosmetics. I figured I’d start at one end of the complex and make my way round. I plastered on my best smile, grabbed my sales tote, and set out to turn the community’s housewives into domestic divas, courtesy of Glamour Cosmetics and yours truly. It was an uphill battle, and I’m not talking about the sidewalk. There was barely a woman who wasn’t in need of some beauty rescuing, but warm welcomes were as scarce as teeth on hens. Jesus Murphy, you’d have thought I was a person collecting for a cult for how fast their doors and minds slammed shut. Oh, I sold a couple of lipsticks and one woman broke down and bought some face cream she said smelled nice. There was one poor soul about seventy who made me a cup of tea and talked my damn ear off about how her kids don’t come visit her anymore. In the end, I left with no order but she promised me lemon tarts next time. It was late afternoon by then, and besides being discouraged, my damn bunions were screaming at me with every bloody step. The last few houses looked quiet, like maybe no one was home anyway, so I figured I’d call it quits for the day. That’s when Fate just jumped in with both feet and led me by the hand to the next townhouse, lucky number 7. Now, you’ll probably think I’m crazy when I say this, but as soon as I knocked at that door, I knew something special was on the other side, and there he was, a handsome devil, ‘bout my age I figured. Looked just like the King would’ve if he’d lived longer and not let himself go to lard. I played my part, of course; sucked in my gut and smiled my sweetest smile, all the while looking straight into those baby blues, and asked, “Good day, sir. Would the missus be in today?” Course, you know the answer, just as well as I did even before I asked. There was no wife, not since five years earlier when she’d passed away. My heart was nearly fit to breaking while he talked about her and how she always used Glamour Cosmetics, and I couldn’t resist putting my hand on his arm to give him some comfort. Heck, I wanted to do a lot more. We chatted long enough to exchange names, and for him to learn I was single and new in town. We even talked about how hard it was to be alone at our age, with me thinking, “Don’t worry, sweetie. You won’t be for long.” Then I gave him my Glamour Cosmetics business card. I knew I had him hooked because he stayed in the doorway as I walked away. I remembered to walk tall, with just the right sway in my hips. To clinch the deal, I made sure he got a nice long glimpse of my leg, the one wearing the lucky anklet, before I climbed into my old rust bucket and drove away. That’s how I know it’s true. Some things in life are just in the stars. I mean, the last thing I was looking for was another man, but when fate practically throws one in my path, what choice do I have but to catch him. |