Three Short Shorts
Save the Whales
Of all the t-shirt shops in all the tourist spots in Alaska…he had to walk into that one. There I was, holding a Starbucks no-fat-triple-venti-latte, wearing a white baseball hat with “Moby Dick Rules” stitched in bright red letters on the front.
We’d both come a long way from the Exxon Valdes oil spill and the days when nobody even knew what an eco-terrorist was. And here I was defending the rights of the Inupiat Eskimos to hunt whales, because that’s what they’ve always done, and here comes Mister holier-than-thou and cuter-than-all-get-out to find just how far away from the “church” I fell.
Jerk. What did he expect anyway? It’s easy to say I love you when you think you’re going to get run over by a logging truck, but get back to the real world and you find out that he picks his teeth at the dinner table, leaves the seat up in the bathroom and expects you to clean up after him just like his mother did. And then he discovers that sometimes you take plastic, not paper and you’ve been known to throw a plastic soda bottle in the garbage instead of the recycling bin. I dare you to take two months of dirty laundry, snoring and separate checking accounts and mix it with two fanatical idealists and see what’s left at the end of it.
So there he is standing right in front of me. Then he goes “hi” … like he just left me this morning, …and I just melt and can barely mumble “hi” back, and then he says – really quietly – “I’m here to save the whales.” And all I can say is “I figured …how have you been?” And he looks down in that sexy way he always did, and then looks up and into my eyes for what seems like an eternity, as if he’s searching for something he lost – and then he finally says “Not bad…and you?” And I sort of roll my eyes like an idiot and say, “O.K, I guess.” Then neither one of says anything for another eternity until he says, “Well, gotta go. See you around.” and I say, “Be careful” …and he turns to go… and then looks back and touches his hand to his head… and with the smallest smile in the corner of his mouth says… “Nice hat.”
The Director’s Wife
Her ring was so big that you knew he must have had a lot to apologize for.
She was tall and thin and dour, as if she had spent a lot of time chewing on bitter pills. She interrupted him when he spoke – as no one else dared – patronizing and condescending – managing the bad boy, pointing out his lack of control, which from the belly that spilled out over his belt, was obvious. He was the genius. She was the clerk. He oozed and spilled and flowed over the table.
She tidied him up and made the budget balance.
A Perfect Moment
We were on our backs with our feet facing the open French doors. We had put the mattress on the floor of the stone cottage perched high on a hill above the Spanish sea. A haunting Tunisian melody playing on an oud seemed to float above us in the night. From the exquisitely white sixteenth century church the bell rang – just once. The light from the church spilled down over the ancient cobblestone streets – where lovers had walked in its shadows – for so many years. We could see the thick clusters of stars and planets – the yellow, blue and red lights which had shone for thousands of years… and yet still on us. The sea air swept over our bodies and our faces… and we held hands… and were happy …and were at perfect peace… and we were free.
Tucked away in the magical attic of her family’s Baltimore home, Jeanne
started writing when she was just a little girl. Born in New York, she
returned to attend NYU, and then landed her first job as a junior copywriter at a major advertising agency. She moved up to become a Senior Creative Director, creating many award-winning campaigns along the way, and then spent twelve years as a Worldwide Creative Director for the Estee Lauder Companies. But she is most proud of having written “Who Says Women Can’t Run the World” for the NYC L’eggs Mini Marathon, which became a much-loved rallying cry for women everywhere.
While raising her wonderful son, Jac, and working full time, she continued
to write whenever she could. Some of her poetry was published online in
Fling Quarterly, which began at a Sarah Lawrence Writers Conference. Most
recently, she’s been writing about women’s issues on her blog,
www.etyand.com, which she launched to celebrate ‘Women Who Won’t Take Old For An Answer’.™
An insatiable techie, and always on the hunt for the next big thing, she is
thrilled to be part of e-Chook’s publishing revolution.
She dedicates “A Perfect Moment” to her late husband, Charlie Mullen,
with whom she learned that a relationship is life’s true great adventure.