THE BOLAN CHRONICLES: Reading #28

28. Approximate Minutes Reading (AMR): 5

Introduction to Characters
Stanley Fanning: Husband of Doris Fanning (AKA, Missy)

THE BOLAN CHRONICLES

Chapter 3

A House

**Odd Couple**

Since the day she had personally delivered the small loaves of corn bread as a token of her appreciation for the firewood, Donna had become quite a friend with the neighbor, Doris Fanning, AKA, Missy. Missy had helped her out with Dean on many occasions, not only simple favors like changing him or rocking him to sleep, but she also made trips to the store for Donna when Dean was napping, and she carried purchased items from the truck to the house. She was a godsend. Stanley Fanning was in no way like his wife. Donna described him as weird and stuffy and always gracing a nervous smile. “And his mouth does this weird kind of shaking thing when he talks.” She had said. 

Jake warned her to stay away from him as much as possible. “But don’t offend the strange one,” Jake had said, “Cause I don’t want to have to start paying for firewood.” And he’d smiled at his cleverness.

Once, when Missy had invited Donna for lunch and to spend some time looking at the latest little picture album of Dean, a peculiar thing had happened. They had just about finished the meal, and they were sitting at the kitchen table, conversing about the news of the times, which happened to be the murder of John Lennon. The ladies were commenting on how much of a shame it was that he was taken so young, and about how much more he could have done had he not been killed. Stanley had walked in from upstairs. “It was like he appeared out of nowhere!” Donna had later told Jake. 

He had stopped at the table and had looked first at Donna and then at his wife and had said in his usual muffled and nervous manner, “Maybe you two ladies ought to join the throng of…of… fans in Central Park,” Then he smiled and continued, “It would only take a few hours to get there. I’ll get the keys for you, if…if you’d like!” Then he noticed the small picture album on the table in front of Donna and added, “Those must be magazine cut-outs of Lennon, right?” He snickered abruptly then turned around and walked back up the stairs. Missy was embarrassed beyond words, and Donna was embarrassed for her. 

Then Stanley had turned the volume up on the television in his bedroom, the one just adjacent to his wife’s. It was ABC’s World News Tonight. He had turned the volume up so high that the ladies could barely hear one another. 

They stepped out onto the front porch, and Missy insisted that Donna relax on one of the rockers while she got them some tea. She handed her the steaming cup and said, “I haven’t made my crumblies since I shared them with you a while back, Donna. Would you like for me to make some?”

Donna replied, “Oh, no, Missy. Don’t go to the trouble.”

“It’s no trouble, Sweetie,” she replied.

“Really,” Donna said. “Maybe next time.”

“Suit yourself, Honey.” She said, as she lowered her short, stout body onto the oak porch rocker across from Donna.

Following a deep sigh she said, “I have to be honest, Donna, or I just won’t be comfortable.”

“What is it, Missy?”

“Well, I’m just a little embarrassed by my husband sometimes, that’s all.”

Donna reached over and touched her wrist. “Oh, Missy, it’s really okay.”

“No,” She replied. “It’s really not okay.” She stared at her own slippered feet and shook her head.

Donna said, “You don’t have to explain anything to me, Missy. I really like you. You are such a wonderful person, and Jake and I couldn’t have asked for a better neighbor, really.”

Missy looked up and said, “But it’s such a shame.”

“What’s a shame?” 

“Your Jake and my Stanley will probably never be friends, and it’d be so nice to have you both over for dinner now and then.” And she shook her head again.

Donna finally broke the awkward silence, “They might become friends, Missy. You never know. Just give it some time.”

“You don’t understand, Honey. Stanley doesn’t get to know people,” She nervously played with the napkin next to her teacup. “And I feel just a bit ashamed that I told Jake a lie about Stanley.”

“A lie?” Donna asked.

“Well,” She paused, “I’m afraid I told Jake that Stanley had a friend that he cut wood with over near Saugatuk Reservoir.”

Donna asked, “He doesn’t have a friend that he cuts wood with?”

Missy shook her head slowly, “Stanley doesn’t have any friends.”

Donna said, “Missy, don’t worry about that. It’s not important, really. And besides,” She leaned in closely and sweetly said, “He has you, doesn’t he? Having you as a friend is more than most anyone could hope for.”

Missy sniffled then she stood up and hugged Donna. She thanked her for being so kind, and she told her how glad she was that she now had someone to talk with because life was so lonely. Missy told Donna about how her husband spent most every day in his room with the door closed and the television on. He rarely spent time with her, and when he did, it was impersonal and mostly silent. 

“Has it always been this way?” Donna asked.

“At first everything seemed fine,” She replied, “But after a year or so of our marriage, that’s when he shut down…just, shut down, that’s all.”

Donna said, “I know that it’s none of my business, Missy, but…”

“What is it? You can ask me anything.”

“Well, I was just curious about the two bedrooms.”

“Oh. That.”

After a brief pause, Missy said, “We shared a bedroom for that first year, if that’s what you mean.”

Donna replied, “And after that?”

“I’ve had my own room for going on 43 years now.”

“Oh my god, Missy.” She paused again. “What about…”

“Sex?”

Donna’s face flushed bright pink and she looked down.

“Oh, it’s okay, honey. That first year was good for it, but after, we only occasionally did that. Mostly when he wanted it, but it’s never really meant much to me.”

“I see.” Donna said. “Do you two do anything together…ever?”

Missy looked up and nodded, “We’re almost like strangers.”

Donna suddenly shook her head and said, “Okay Missy, let me make sure that I have this right. You’ve been married to the same man for forty-three years, you only spent the first year in the same bedroom together, you have almost nothing in common, and you almost never speak to one another.”

Missy gave a perfunctory nod and managed, “That’s right. That’s the sad truth,” Then she said, “But there’s more.”

And Missy had Donna’s full attention. 

THE BOLAN CHRONICLES: Reading #27

27. Approximate Minutes Reading (AMR): 12

Introduction to Characters

THE BOLAN CHRONICLES

Chapter 3

A House

**A First Birthday and Kindling**

March 30th, 1980. Donna was astounded that an entire year had passed since Dean’s birth. And though a bit discouraged that she hadn’t made many friends over the course of a year, she was happy that Dean was healthy, that she and Jake had made a home out of a once rather drab house, and that the future looked bright.

She had spent considerable time preparing for Dean’s first birthday. An array of colored balloons hung from the ceiling of their living room. She had baked a cake and had purchased a set of wooden blocks from a garage sale just up the street. Her mother had been with her, and she had purchased a gift for Dean. Donna offered to wrap it for her and to keep it at their place. 

Missy, Donna’s neighbor, had volunteered to help with the decorations. She’d also baked cupcakes, much to Donna’s surprise, and far too many. The only anticipated guests included Missy, Donna’s mom, Twila, and Twila’s friend, Dale. In all, six would attend the party. Missy had baked two-dozen cupcakes. 

It was a Sunday, and Jake had managed to get the day off. By now, Ken had become a fan of little Dean Bolan, and when Jake told him about the birthday party, he’d barely asked before Ken had insisted that Jake spend the day at home with his family. 

It was a considerably cold day, and Jake had built a fire and had asked Donna to make hot chocolate for the occasion. 

At two-o’clock, Twila and Dale arrived. Donna hugged Twila and thanked her for coming. When she offered her hand to Dale and introduced herself, Twila screeched, “Oh my goodness, me! You two haven’t met!”  And she bragged unashamedly over Donna. Dale smiled his ten-tooth smile, and Donna liked him immediately. Missy, sitting at the far end of the couch, stood and introduced herself to Twila and Dale. They all sat down, and when Twila saw the large bowl filled with hot chocolate, she smiled and said, “Oh my goodness, Donna! You outdone yourself!”

“Oh, it’s nothing really,” Donna replied. “And there are cupcakes on the coffee table. Missy baked them.”

Twila took one look at the plate of cupcakes and then at Missy. She covered her mouth and said, “Oh, my. Dare I?”

“Please do!” Missy replied.

“I been keepin’ such a close eye on this girlish figure.” And she laughed, “Oh, if you insist on twistin’ my chubby arm!” And she picked one of the cupcakes up and sniffed it. She closed her eyes and said, “Just ain’t nothin’ like chocolate,” And she slowly and carefully dropped the entire cupcake into her mouth. Missy watched in amazement as Twila grabbed another and devoured it just as quickly but with greater passion. “Missy,” She finally said, “That there is the most heavenly delicious cakes I have ever had. Thank you so much.”

Twila made small talk with Missy. When she learned that Missy had a husband and asked if he might be coming to the party, Missy replied, “Oh, Stanley is a bit shy around people he doesn’t know, that’s all.”

“Well, I understand about that shy stuff,” Twila said, “I have the hardest time getting’ to know folks,” Then she looked at Dale, and the two of them laughed. 

Dean had been in his Peace Room when the guests had arrived. Donna called him up. He walked through the door and into the living room. When he saw Twila and Dale he announced, “Oh my God! Look what the cat dragged in!” 

Twila immediately replied, “Looks to me like it dragged in a pile o’ Jake Bolan from the basement!” And she laughed loudly and pulled herself from the couch. Jake hugged her and said, “Thanks for coming, Miss Twila.”

“I wouldn’t miss little Dean’s first birthday for the world. You know that!” She opened her arms and exclaimed, “And jes look at what you two done with this place! So home-like!”

“Slowly but surely,” Donna said, and she laughed, “You should have seen it just a few months ago!”

Dale stood and reached out. “Good ta see ya’ Jake!” 

“You too, my man!” Jake replied. Then he called out, “Hey Donna! Have you met Dale yet?”

Donna held a dishtowel as she walked from the kitchen, “I just did!” 

“Isn’t he everything I said he was?”

Jake had barely mentioned Dale’s name since the day he’d met him, but she smiled and replied, “I think he’s great!”

Dale grinned and said, “Sounds like I got me another fan!”

“Indeed!” Donna replied, and she smiled and walked back to the kitchen. 

Dale shrugged and said to Jake, “Golly-geez Jake, she’s a purty one!”

Jake replied, “As you might say, my man, ‘She done met her match!’”

Standing in the kitchen, Donna looked at the clock and thought about her mom, who was rarely late. She picked up the phone and dialed. When she returned from the kitchen, she announced that her mom wouldn’t be able to make it due to uncontrollable circumstances.

Missy, sitting at the far end of the couch, sat up straight and said, “Oh, my! Is everything alright?”

The solemn look on Donna’s face gave away her disappointment, and when she attempted a smile, it was clear that in fact, everything wasn’t all right. “Oh, yes. She just had some unfortunate circumstances arise. She said to tell everyone how sorry she is.”

Missy said, “Oh Honey, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Then she added, “I’ll bet she’ll wanna come by in the next day or two. She’ll probably give little Dean another party all by herself!”

Jake was about to say something, but he looked at Donna and changed his mind. Then he directed his gaze at Missy and raised his glass, “To little Dean’s little party!”

Missy didn’t have a glass, so she mimicked a toast and looked at Jake, then at Donna, then at Twila and Dale and said, “To little Dean’s little party!”

Donna had the television tuned to a children’s program, mostly for noise, and the adults sat watching little Dean as he moved to the nursery rhymes put to music. They laughed as he suddenly fell on his bottom and looked over at his mommy. 

“Dang good thing the little guy’s got hisself some diapers on!” Dale announced. 

Everyone laughed. Twila commented on how alert Dean was; that he seemed almost to understand what was going on. She looked at Jake and said, “Honey, he definitely takes after his daddy, that’s fer sure! Can’t get a thing passed you!”

Missy added, “And he is so cute! Just look at his perfect little face!”

Jake drew in a deep, dramatic breath and said, “Yeah. He gets that from his daddy, too!”

Dale chimed, “Looks more like his momma than his daddy, to me.”

Donna blushed. She looked at Jake then at Dean then back at Jake and said, “No. He really does look a lot like his daddy.”

Jake smiled and looked out at the small birthday crowd. “It’s confirmed—like father, like son!” He grabbed Dean and held him straight out. Dean stared at his father. “Okay, little guy, you ready to be a lady killer?”

Missy eeked, “Oh, my!”

Still holding Dean in front of him, Jake looked down at Missy and said, “It’s a tough gig, this lady killer thing. Always brushin’ ‘em away,” Then he looked at Donna and said, “They just can’t seem to get enough!” And he laughed. 

Donna said, “Oh Jake! You are so funny!”

“Yep!” Jake replied, then he placed Dean back on the carpeted floor, “I’m a funny one. The funny lady killer, that’s me.”

Dale laughed his hic laugh and said, “That’s the funniest fib I done heard in a long time!”

Donna replied, “Yeah. Jake’s good at that funny fib stuff.”

Suddenly, Dale announced, “Idn’ it time ta git them gifts out fer the little birthday boy?”

Everyone agreed, so Donna sat on the floor with Dean and guided his little hands over the gifts as she gently peeled the wrapping from each. Dale had purchased a Fisher Price toy pocket radio for Dean, and he laughed hard when Dean’s eyes widened after hearing “Are You Sleeping” coming from the toy. “Look at him,” Dale screeched, “Like it’s some kinda alien from another planet!”

“Almost everything is new to Dean,” Donna replied. “It’s fun just to see the look on his face when he sees almost anything.”

Twila’s gift was an Etch A Sketch. Donna placed it on the floor in front of Dean, and he sat motionless, staring at the screen. Everyone waited for him to do something. Without a peep, Dean continued to stare at the screen. He finally looked at his mom and grunted. Donna said, “What is it, Sweetie?’ Dean looked back at the screen then quickly at his mother. 

Jake said, “Oh my god!”

“What is it?” Donna replied.

“Oh my god!” And Jake broke out in a laugh, “He thinks it’s a television!”

Everyone laughed, and Dean smiled and reached out to Donna. She picked him up and he laid his head on her shoulder. 

“That’s a kick in the butt!” Dale blurted, “Little guy thinks it’s a TV! Probly waitn fer Big Bird to show up!”

Dean smiled at the Mr. Potato Head that Twila brought for him. She’d found it at a flea market—nearly brand new—fifty cents. 

And the blocks that Donna had purchased at a garage sale were a hit with Dean, but more so with Dale. He spent more time playing with them than did Dean, who mostly sat and watched in anticipation. Dale would stack the blocks until they would begin to sway, then he’d look at Dean and say, “Uh-Oh!” And Dean would smile. When the blocks would fall to the floor, Dean would laugh and everyone would laugh with him.

Like she’d left a cake in the oven, Donna blurted, “Oh my goodness! My mom’s gift!” And she hurried to the bedroom and came out with a shoebox wrapped in newsprint. She looked at Missy and said, “I ran out of paper.”

“Reminds me of when I was a child,” Missy replied. “My daddy used to do all the wrapping, and newspaper is all he ever used. Said it did the job just as well and a whole lot cheaper!”

Donna placed the box in front of Dean. He looked at it blankly. She tore the paper off and lifted the lid to reveal a Raggedy Andy doll. Dean stared then attempted to pick it up, but before his little hand reached the doll, Jake had grabbed it. He stared at it and said, “What the hell is this?” 

Surprised, Donna exclaimed, “Jake!”

Dale said, “Looks like some kinda doll to me.”

Irritated, Jake replied, “That’s exactly what it is,” He looked at Donna, “Leave it to your mom to get my son a doll.”

Calmly, Donna said, “Jake, please.”

“Well, hell, Donna! You want our little boy playing with dolls?” Then he turned his attention to Dale. “Dale. What do you think about little pansy doll-playing boys?”

“Not sure, Jake,” He replied. “Purty clear what you think, though!” And he giggled nervously.

Dean sat quietly, staring at the doll in his daddy’s hand.

Almost mocking Dale’s accent, Jake said, “Well I gots me a new name fer this here dolly,” And he turned the doll so that it faced Dale, “Dale, meet little kindling.” Then he threw the doll into the roaring fire.

The entire party sat, stunned. After a few seconds, Dale finally chimed, “Got me a ten-spot says that little doll gonna hop right on out o’ that fire!” Then he laughed nervously. 

“Got me a twenty-spot,” Jake replied, “Says if it does it’ll find a poker up its ass in a heartbeat!”

Donna covered her mouth and quickly walked out of the room and into the bathroom. She stood motionless in front of the mirror. Then she thought about Dean and rushed back out to the living room. Little Dean sat staring at the fire. She picked him up and looked out at the guests, “I’m sorry. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”  She threw Jake a look of disdain.

After a short cry, Donna rejoined the party. Things resumed reasonably smoothly, considering the doll disruption. Dean crawled from one gift to the other. He seemed to enjoy the toy radio more than the rest. Dale spent most of his time on the floor with Dean, turning the little nob and watching, as a slight grin would make its way across his face. Dean would rock his little arms in an up and down motion, and when the song would end, he’d look at Dale and grunt. The entire party would laugh, and Dale would start the process all over again.

After everyone left, Jake descended to his office while Donna cleaned up. When she finished, she put Dean to bed, turned on the television and sat on the couch, waiting for Jake. Hours later, she awoke to the National Anthem and a waving flag sign-off, then white noise. She rubbed her eyes, stretched, then she checked on Dean. He was sleeping soundly. She walked into their room and found the bed empty. She opened the basement door and descended the steps. Jake was on his lounge chair with his eyes closed. Donna noticed an open magazine on Jake’s desk. She stood behind his chair and read the title, Girly Boys. It was accompanied by an illustration of a small boy sitting on the floor and holding a Ken doll.

“Maybe we should make your mom read that.” 

Startled, Donna turned. “Oh!, You scared me.”

Jake stood and stretched. “Let’s get to bed.” 

Donna paused, then she said, “Jake, can we talk about the gift?”

Jake froze. “What gift?”

“You know, the gift that you didn’t like.”

Then he turned and said, “I thought I made it pretty clear what I think about that. And no, we don’t need to talk more about it.”

Then he turned and began the short ascent to their room, Donna closely following.

THE BOLAN CHRONICLES: Reading #26

26. Approximate Minutes Reading (AMR): 3

Introduction to Characters

THE BOLAN CHRONICLES

Chapter 3

A House

**Garage Sale Furnishings**

Another holiday season passed, and before they knew it, Jake and Donna had been living in their little rental for over a year. The house now had a real family look to it; the makeshift furniture replaced by the real thing purchased mostly at estate sales that Jake had found. The brown leather couch and love seat were a hit with visitors, and Donna had found a couple of oriental rugs at a garage sale at a posh home near Canoe Brook Lake, an upscale neighborhood 15 minutes northwest of their house. When she had stepped out of the car to look at the rugs, a sixty-something lady wearing tight-fitting pajama bottoms and a flannel button-down shirt took one look at the baby and fell in love. Donna let her hold him, and the questions commenced; when was he born and where, does he look at all like his daddy, 'cause he sure looks an awful lot like his momma! Was he colicky at all? And she had stories about her four kids and her thirteen grandchildren. 

By the time she had left the house, Donna had purchased the two beautiful rugs for less than half of what the grandmother had originally asked--a lot less than half, and Jake could hardly believe it when she had told him. They were a perfect match, color and style, with their furniture. 

With the addition of a thick shag carpet and a full size cloth couch that Jake had received from a produce driver he’d befriended at work, the Jake Bolan Peace Room was by now a bit warmer. A rather shoddy but comfortable leather lounge chair was a payback item for having helped one of the restaurant cops who was looking for someone with a truck. He’d purchased a new curio cabinet from Eastman’s Furniture and couldn’t quite get it to fit in his panel van. 

Jake had added a stereo with two large speakers. Jake’s boss had a friend who had two ‘pretty damned good’ Pioneer speakers that were in perfectly good condition and he didn’t want nor did he have a place to store them. Ken immediately thought of Jake and called the restaurant. “You’ll have to pick them up yourself.” He’d said. Jake was happy to take them off his hands. When Ken’s friend had opened the garage door to reveal the speakers, Jake was taken-aback. They were much bigger than he’d imagined. And when Donna saw them in the back of the truck she had smiled real big and clapped her hands and ran to meet Jake as he stepped out of the truck. 

He had dragged them down to the Peace Room by just after noon, and Jake spent the balance of the day and night playing with his new toy, the Panasonic turntable receiver amplifier with the biggest speakers he’d ever seen. He had never been a music fanatic as such, enjoying occasionally some of the country music that his dad had periodically played. So Jake was happy to fiddle with the dial until he found a static-free station. When a commercial for Ball Park Franks came on, Jake laughed when Redd Foxx said, “I like the original, ‘cause I’m the original, Dummy!” And suddenly Jake remembered the comedy record albums that his father had given him. “Holy shit!” he cried gleefully. 

He pulled the box of records from the top of the half-full bookshelf. He placed a Richard Prior record called ‘That Nigger’s Crazy’ on the turntable, gently set the needle, and backed into his shoddy leather lounge chair. By the end of the first track titled, ‘I Hope I’m Funny,’ Jake was curled over in pain for having laughed so hard. The idea that he now had access to a training session in sarcasm and wit via a few dozen record albums made him happy, and as Richard Prior spewed forth more and more filthy hysterics, Jake became more and more pleased with himself for having created a personal world in the basement of his very first abode.

THE BOLAN CHRONICLES: Reading #25

25. Approximate Minutes Reading (AMR): 4

Introduction to Characters

THE BOLAN CHRONICLES

Chapter 3

A House

**Shame**

Sunlight made its way through the shades and onto the bed. Jake rolled over and opened his eyes. Donna wasn't there. He lay there quietly, expecting to hear the sound of clanging dishes coming from the kitchen, or of the baby crying. But he heard nothing. He thought about what he wished was a bad dream rather than the actual events of the previous night, and though he couldn't imagine Donna leaving him for it, he also knew that it was altogether plausible. After all, she did have her mother.

He felt like a fool. Actions of the previous day and night had put him in a position of having to apologize, something he dreaded. To Jake, apologizing was akin to driving a stake into one's own heart. But since his actions were hardly excusable, he would do it. The pain from the stake would diminish.

He forced himself out of bed and used the bathroom then walked into the baby's room. He reached over and carefully placed his hand on Dean's back. Jake looked at his face and noticed that he was moving his mouth. He pulled his hand away and looked down at the floor and sighed. The shame of the previous night revisited him.

Donna had been sitting in the living room for more than three hours. She'd woken up at just past six and had quietly slipped out of bed. When she'd seen Jake still lying on the floor, she had helped him up and into bed then she'd brewed a cup of coffee and had come back to the couch to think. 

When Jake saw her on the couch, he turned to go back to their room. Without looking up, she said, "Good morning."

Jake stopped. He rubbed his eyes and replied, "Hi," Then he turned back and stood in front of her. "I guess I have some apologizing to do."

Donna looked down.

Jake continued, "I'm not a drunk, Donna. I think you know that, right?"

Donna nodded, but she thought, how can I know?

"Anyway, Sorry 'bout last night. I don't know what happened in Dean's room, but it was an accident, and I feel horrible about it." Then he turned to walk away, and as he did, he said, "I hope you'll forgive me for it."

"Oh, Jake!" And Donna got up and ran to him. They held each other tightly, and Donna cried and told him how terrified she was and that she didn't blame him, but that she was scared and didn't want that ever to happen again.

Jake told her that it wouldn't. That it was a stupid combination of mistakes and that he didn't know what overcame him but that he was done with it. And he held Donna tightly and assured her that he was her protection and her support, and he told her how much he loved her and about how lucky he felt to be married to her and to have little Dean.

Donna melted in his arms. She absorbed everything that he said. She loved him so much, and she wanted all of the family things that he wanted. She looked up at him and kissed him. He smiled at her. Then Donna looked toward the baby's room and said, "I think we have time, Jake, and it's been a few weeks.” Jake looked surprised, so Donna breathed heavily and said, “Please, Jake. I just want to do it now. I want you now.”

They made love that late morning as the sun continued its path across their bed and into the hallway. Jake thought that his wife deserved to believe in a marriage that would work and a happy family, and so he told her all of the things that he knew she loved to hear, and he touched her in the ways that he knew she loved to be touched, and she gave herself to her husband without reservation, and he rediscovered the kind of unbridled passion that had drawn him to that bright-eyed, small-chinned beauty in high school. And Jake smiled at his luck. And he smiled at his clever devices. 

And Donna smiled at her luck. And she smiled at her belief in a happy life ahead.

THE BOLAN CHRONICLES: Reading #24

24. Approximate Minutes Reading (AMR): 10

Introduction to Characters

THE BOLAN CHRONICLES

Chapter 3

A House

**The O’Malley’s Mistake**

April 2^nd, 1979. A group named America had a Billboard number one hit called A Horse With No Name, War and Remembrance by Herman Wouk was the New York Times bestseller, an Anthrax epidemic had broken out in Russia, and home life for little Dean Thomas Bolan began in the little state of Connecticut, in a little town called Trumbull, in a little house at 11 Sunset Avenue.

Donna's mom had nearly begged her to spend the first week there all day, each day, but Jake wouldn't have it. When Donna had asked him why not, he had told her that he was never interested in having someone else do the job that he'd applied for. In his words, “We applied for it when we did the nasty.” Then he'd said, “And we certainly got the job, didn't we? Head over heals!”

When she saw the sign on the door to the basement, Donna asked Jake about it. “It’s Daddy’s cave, Donna,” Then he stared at her, waiting for her response. When she said nothing, he continued, “With a kid in the house, I’m gonna need a getaway now and again, and well, I just wanted to make that crystal clear…punctuate the issue, if you knows what I’s means!” And he laughed. 

Donna's mom did help out occasionally during the first few weeks. Mostly, while Donna was taking care of Dean, she would run to the laundry mat, wash the dishes, do the housecleaning. Donna couldn't imagine having to do everything, and it had always been her belief that family members were meant to support one another. It had been something that her mother had unsuccessfully tried to convince her father of. It was her father who had once told her that no matter what happens, taking care of oneself was more important than anything else. “How the hell can you take care of anything else without looking out for number one?” 

And Jake frequently told himself that if it weren't for Donna's mother, he would probably be the one forced to the housework, and no, that wasn't going to happen. So he bit his tongue and steered clear, spending great lengths of time in the basement or at  Ken's. Donna occasionally asked him to fetch a diaper or hold the baby, and he was willing, but there was a limit, and she was learning it.

And Jake wasn't comfortable with an infant. He would do the kinds of things that a father of a newborn might be expected to do--make funny sounds, try to get the baby to smile, pinch his cheeks and grin--but the baby didn't seem to respond as much as he did with his momma. Jake chalked it up to the fact that she spent more time throughout the day with the little guy.

Over time, Donna's mom stopped by less frequently. Whereas, in the beginning she had come by just about every day, after a few months, it became two or three times a week, and within six months, her visits were reduced to once a week, sometimes less. Donna started asking Jake more often to do things around the house. At first, he didn't complain. This is the life I've chosen, he thought, and besides, things will get easier over time. 

One day, after a long and difficult shift at work, Jake began to realize that pulling into the driveway and walking through the front door was becoming rather boring and tedious, and he needed a break from it. So he pulled into a convenience store parking lot, located a payphone, and called Donna. 

"How was my wide-eyed beauty's day?"

Donna sounded tired. "It was okay. Dean is doing good. Are you at work still?"

"No. I stopped off for gas." And he paused. "And I'm going to pay a visit to the billiards bar off of White Plains. I think it's called O'Henry's or O'Learys...something like that."

Donna replied, "Oh." And she didn't know what else to say. 

"Yeah. A cop that had lunch at the restaurant today told me about it—said it was a great place to unwind after a stressful day. And God knows it's been one of those for me."

"Okay." She replied. "I see."

"C’mon, Donna. Don’t worry your pretty little self. I’m a big boy now, right? So, don't wait for me. Go ahead and have dinner, and I'll just help myself when I get back."

"Well..." She paused. "What time do you think..."

"I don't know what time, Donna. Maybe an hour, maybe two." 

"Okay. I'll just wait for you. I look forward to when you get home. And Dean does, too."

Jake chuckled, "Yeah, little Dean still doesn't know time from a tallywacker."

Donna replied, "A what?"

"Never mind, Donna. See you when I get home."

She slowly placed the phone on the receiver and looked through the living room window. She thought about what Jake had said to her, and it made her lonely. She felt something in her gut that she didn't like. Then she looked at little Dean sleeping in his crib, and she smiled. She told herself that Jake had been so good with him and that he had had so little time out and that he deserved to do something fun. Then she began to feel guilty for not having told him to have a good time. He deserved a good time, didn't he? And when he gets home, she thought, I'm going to be happy for him, and I'm not going to complain about anything. He's so good to me.

When Jake came through the door at just past midnight, Donna greeted him with a hug and a kiss and a baby in her arms. Jake was a bit surprised, but he welcomed the attention and grabbed little Dean and lifted him up and twirled him around, and Donna smiled. 

"How was O'Leary's?" She asked.

Jake laughed and said, "Well, as it turns out, it isn't O'Leary's, and it isn't O'Henry's, either. It's O'Malley's."

Jake spent a few minutes playing peek-a-boo with Dean, and he talked with Donna about his tough day at work, and she told him about how Dean smiled for the first time, and that she knew it was a smile this time, and not gas. And she had taken a few pictures that afternoon and couldn't wait to get them developed. And Donna thought to herself that her feeling of loneliness-that impending feeling of dread-was something that she’d made up.

The O'Malley's visits increased. A large group of police officers frequented the place, and Jake was gradually fitting in. All of them knew that this kid wanted badly to be a police officer, and they believed that he would be a good one. To most of them, he was a perfect fit. And from what most of them had heard about his wife, she was a perfect fit, too, compliant, quiet, unaggressive. 

One night, after they had played a couple of games of pool and were sitting around the large oak table next to the bar, Jake told the guys that he had begun calling the O'Malley's nights 'cop stops.' And the term stuck. If an officer walked into Ken's and saw Jake, he'd call out, "Cop stop tonight, Bolan?" And Jake would smile and almost always say yes. Thumbs up.

Before he left for work, Jake had begun telling Donna when he'd planned a cop stop. So on the night of August 31st, a Thursday night, she wasn't surprised when he came home late, but on that night he came home exceptionally late, and when he walked in, he wreaked of alcohol. 

"You're late tonight." She said.

He stumbled over his words, "If I'm late, Donna, is decision it’s…” He stopped himself and tried again. “It's because I decide what I'm late…not you."

Donna had never seen him drunk before, and now she was worried. She was sure that talking to him in this condition and this late would be foolish, so she turned around and said, "I'm going to check on Dean and go to bed." Then she added, "Goodnight."

Indeed, Jake had done very little drinking in his short lifetime. In high school, he and his buddies had collectively stolen enough liquor from their parents' cabinets to get themselves good and drunk upon occasion, but it hadn't been a problem for Jake. He liked the feeling of being in control of himself, and though he'd had some laughs with his friends, when he'd regained his senses, he'd determined that it wasn't a road that he was interested in taking.

Jake smiled when Donna walked away. He hoped that she wouldn't say anything more about it. He knew that he was drunk, and he knew what his being drunk could lead to, and that it wouldn't be pretty.

Donna lay in bed that night and thought about what she should do. She wondered if she should just let it go and hope that it didn't happen again. Maybe it was just a dumb mistake and Jake would learn from it. She considered her mom and how she might help. She’d figured out a way to overcome it, hadn’t she? But Donna knew that Jake wouldn't accept advice from her mom. He was hardheaded, and the idea of listening to a woman whose husband recently left her was far-fetched.

Then Donna sat up. A loud thud came from the other side of the hallway. She shot out of bed and hurried to Dean's room. Jake was on his knees, picking the infant up from the floor. There was no cry. 

She yelled, "Jake! What happened?"

Jake looked back and said, "It's okay. I just slipped. I jus’ tryin’ I…”

Donna screamed, "Get out! Get out of the room, Jake!"

"What the hell?" Jake replied.

And before he had a chance to say more, Donna grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back. He rolled onto his side. He attempted to get up, but Donna pushed him out of the way and screamed, "Just stay down there, Jake!"

She held Dean tightly and walked to the bathroom and turned on the light. When she did, she saw his eyes wide open and his little round mouth pursed. Then his eyes closed quickly and he squinted. His little face wrinkled up like an old man's, and he started to whimper. When she realized that her baby was unharmed, she began to cry. 

And when Jake stumbled into the bathroom and she saw his face, her anger became rage. "God damn you, Jake! Don't you come into this bathroom! Get out! Get out!" And each time she said it louder and more intensely than the time before.

Jake backed out of the bathroom and shamefully stumbled to the living room and fell on the floor. He placed his hands over his face and rubbed it hard then he exhaled and moaned. "Oh, Jesus Christ almighty, what the hell…”

Donna waited in the bathroom until she felt her rage subside. She stared at herself in the mirror and cried, trying desperately to keep quiet. She didn't want Jake to know that she was sobbing, and she didn’t want to frighten little Dean any more than he had already been frightened. Then she looked down at little Dean, lying there in her arms, and she saw that he had closed his eyes and that he had fallen back asleep. And Donna knew that she had a special baby.

When she finally stepped out of the bathroom and into the hallway, she found Jake sprawled out on the living room carpet. She quietly walked over and looked at him. He was breathing deeply. Then a fleeting thought out of nowhere crossed her mind: Why does Jake spend so much time in the basement?

She quickly dismissed the temptation to go downstairs. It was his space, she told herself, and just because we've had this bad night doesn't give me the right to invade it. And then Donna thought about how it had never occurred to her to have her own space. Why would I ever need a place of my own to go to?  

She carefully walked to their bedroom and placed little Dean on their bed. Then she lay down next to him and stared at his little face. And tears filled her eyes, and she whispered, "I'm always going to be here for you, Dean. No matter what happens, I'll always be here for you." Then she touched his little cheek and quietly said to the baby, “You have a good Daddy. He just made a mistake tonight, that’s all. He’s gonna be such a good Daddy. You’ll see.”

THE BOLAN CHRONICLES: Reading #23

23. Approximate Minutes Reading (AMR): 8

Introduction to Characters

THE BOLAN CHRONICLES

Chapter 3

A House

**Daddy, Meet Your Boy**

As he drove home, Jake's mind turned over, the pictures he had seen; not of the woman with the huge breasts or of her male partner who had just finished with her, but rather with the things that disgusted him. He thought about the way the theatre had looked when he had first pulled into the parking lot, and the feel of the front door handle, and the look of the fat filth that occupied space behind the counter in the stinky lobby that nearly caused him to vomit. 

He had expected so much more. He'd wanted to walk into a theater much like the one he'd visited so many times as a child in Bridgeport, where he'd seen great movies like The Adventures of Bullwhip Griffin, Never a Dull Moment, and The Boatniks. They were clean and smelled of buttered popcorn, and behind the counter were nicely dressed pretty girls with snow-white smiles. 

It was after he'd walked through the theater doors that he'd expected to see all of the action that had dominated his fantasies since his young boyhood; since the moment he'd laid his eyes on a girl in his fifth grade class who'd told him that a friend had dared her to show her most private parts to a boy. Young Jake had walked away with a movie in his mind that would play again and again. And it wasn't until much later that he'd realized that the friend who had dared her to show the boy her private parts was not there when it happened, so who's to say that she did or did not follow through? It was then, years later, that Jake realized that girls, too, had fantasies; that girls, too, wanted the kind of things that he wanted. And it was then that Jake started to fantasize about the kind of woman that he ultimately wanted for life.

But Jake couldn't get the filth of the building and the handle and the fat slob off of his mind. The thoughts of them permeated him, and he wondered how long it would take before they went away. He had never felt this dirty before. If he could do it again, he certainly would not. And he determined that indeed, he would avoid Pussycat Theater and any other like it. He would not enter a place like that again for as long as he lived.

He pulled into the driveway at just past 6:00 AM. He felt horrible. He was tired and disgusted with himself for having wasted two hours that could have been spent in deep sleep. But what was done was done, he thought, and so he splashed cold water on his face, ate a banana from the fruit bowl that sat next to the sink in the kitchen, and drove back to the hospital. 

He took the flight of stairs this time to the third floor, and he asked a nurse--one he hadn't yet seen--if he could visit his wife. She checked Donna's file and asked Jake to hold for one moment. She returned and informed him that the doctor had ordered no visitors until further notice. But she smiled and asked, "Have you seen your son yet, Mr. Bolan?"

"No, I haven't."

Her smile broadened, "Ah. Would you like to follow me, please?"

He followed her to a large glass window. A dozen babies were in their own tiny plastic nests. The nurse asked him to wait there, then she walked into the room where the babies lay, and she grabbed little Dean and walked him over to his daddy. 

Jake saw the 'Bolan' names tag pinned to the baby's tiny white beanie. He looked at the nurse, pointed to his chest, and mouthed, "Mine?"

She nodded.

Jake studied the baby's face. There was no denying that, even though an infant, the baby had his mother's features, already. It was something about his cheeks, Jake thought. And something about his forehead, though he couldn't determine exactly what. And as crazy as it might now seem, it was something about the expression. 

Then Jake realized that all of his crazy thoughts were the result of a lack of rest and of a haphazard night and day that was only just now starting to show some hope of redemption. 

He smiled at the nurse and mouthed a thank-you. 

She returned and said, "When your wife's mom saw him, she burst into tears so quickly! I've been in this gig for almost twenty years, and I've never seen anything like it!"

Jake suddenly remembered that Donna's mom had insisted on waiting. He hadn't seen her since he'd reentered the hospital. Then he cursed her silently for having seen his son before him. 

"Thanks for bringing me here," Jake said, "I'm going to try to get some rest."

Then he turned and walked back to the waiting room. He felt badly about his afternoon, and he wanted to make up for it. Son of a bitch! He thought. If it wasn't for that fucking truck driver, I would have been there to see my own son before that bitch did!"  He sat down and determined that he would go nowhere else until his wife and son were released from the hospital. 

The nurse woke Jake at 10:00 PM. She informed him that the doctor had advised that Donna stay for one more night for observation purposes but that Jake was free to visit her now.

He stood and ran his hands over his face and through his hair. He told the nurse that of course he wanted to see his wife. So she led him to her room. 

When he walked in, Donna smiled. She looked tired. Jake held her for a moment then said, "Well, Mom. I guess congratulations are in order."

She looked into his eyes and said, "To you too, Dad."

Then she asked if her mom was still at the hospital.

"I haven't seen her." He replied, "But the nurse told me that she was here to see Dean...the baby."

Donna said, "Dean? What?"

He'd done it again, only this time under the worst of circumstances.

He did his best to excuse the slip of tongue, and though she was her usual sweet self, Donna wanted to know where the name had come from.

"It's a name I've thought about for a long time. I wanted to name our son Dean from the day I found out that you were pregnant."

Donna replied, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know," Jake said, "I just never thought it was the right time."

Donna held her arms out and smiled, "Well I love it! It sounds just perfect!”

Then she said it aloud several times, and after a while she asked Jake if he wanted to talk about a middle name.

"I really haven't thought about a middle name for him, but I suppose that we could talk about it."

Donna stared at the ground, and within moments she began to sob. Jake held her and asked what was wrong. She told him that at one time she had wanted to name her son after her father, but now there was no chance of that. Then she quieted. She paused for a moment. She looked at Jake and said, "My mom told me that if I was a boy, she was going to name me Thomas."

Jake looked up and said, "Dean Thomas Bolan." Then he said, "God, that sounds really good!"

Jake left Donna’s room and thought about the name again, and he remembered that he’d promised Twila that he’d call her when they had decided on a middle name. He looked at the clock and wondered if she might still be at the restaurant. He dialed the number and Manny answered. 

“She left about an hour ago,” Then Manny asked, “Hey! You a daddy now, yeah?”

Jake replied quickly, “Yeah, I’m a daddy now. Take it easy.” And he hung up and mumbled under his breath, “Dumb-ass Mexican.” 

Then he dialed Twila’s home phone and told her about the name. Twila said, “Dean Thomas Bolan? Honey! That is a manly name if I ever did hear one!”

THE BOLAN CHRONICLES: Reading #22

22. Approximate Minutes Reading (AMR): 12

Introduction to Characters

THE BOLAN CHRONICLES

Chapter 3

A House

**The Dream and Pussycat Theatre**

He stepped into the baby's room and stood next to the crib. He pretended that their newborn son was lying there, and he spoke aloud: Hey, kid. Welcome to my world. Yep, you've got a lot to learn here. It's not so warm and safe out here like it is where you came from. People want to take and take and take some more, and if you're the one in their way, they'll go right through you. And if you've got what they want, you damned well better believe they'll try to take it from you. Look into these eyes, son. I’m the one to listen to. You may think you're in heaven, or you may think you're in hell, but don't forget that some people are lucky enough to have a savior in this world. I'm yours. Did you hear that? 

Then he stepped out of the room and made the sharp right to the basement door. He paused, then turned and walked to the kitchen. He grabbed a small tablet and pen from the drawer next to the telephone. Then he tore off a page and wrote on it, threw the pen and tablet back into the drawer and tore off a piece of scotch tape from its roll and walked back to the basement door. He attached the note to the door and stood back. 'Jake Bolan: Peace Room' The ‘Peace Room’ part was surrounded with a peace sign, its vertical line separating the two words. 

He descended the stairs and sat at his desk then he grabbed the string from between the pieces of wood and pulled it upward until the journal appeared. He opened it to the first blank page, and he wrote. There was no hesitation, no stopping to think, no checking for accuracy. He was alive with words that flowed from him like water from a faucet. And as he wrote, he laughed and cursed, and when he finally finished and closed the journal, he cried. Then he said aloud, "Well, I have been up all night, and I am so fucking tired." 

He wiped the tears and snot from his face and slowly ascended the steps. He pulled his wallet and keys from his pockets and threw them on the floor, then he fell into his bed, and within minutes, he was asleep.

---------------

In his dream, Jake found himself walking through a dense forest, and the rain poured, but the rain wasn't water. It was a thick brown gravy-like liquid that jiggled when it landed. The ground was soaked with it, and when he stepped, it made a kind of moaning sound combined with the usual sloshing noise that mud makes when it's disturbed. He saw a ladder, maybe wooden, just ahead of him. He couldn't tell to what or where it led. Just ahead and beyond the ladder, a whitish-yellow glow pulsated from the top floor of a tall, dark building. It was the only light that seemed to be on. Something buzzed about his head, flitting to and fro, and when he batted at whatever it was, it released a kind of weak scream. 

When he reached the base of the ladder, he looked up. No end could be seen, but it was clear that at a certain point, it began to curve outward, in more of a horizontal direction, forming what looked to be a bridge. He gazed at the building far off, and he saw the pulsating light, and he wondered what to do. He wondered why he was there. 

He placed his foot on the first rung of the ladder, and as he did, it flexed downward, but he was able to lift himself. The rung held his weight. He took the next step, and the next, and before long, he was moving quickly. He was certain he was making progress. He was working up a sweat, keeping his eye on the curvature of the ladder above him. When he looked down, his eyes widened and his heart sunk. He had made no progress whatsoever. He took another step and watched the ground. With every step, each rung under his foot sunk deeply into the dense forest floor. 

Something moved in his peripheral view. He looked to his left and saw the faint shadow of a woman. As soon as his eyes met hers, sounds emanated from her mouth. They were faint at first, and he listened more intently until he knew that what he suspected was true. His mother was calling out to him. Jake! Jake! She wouldn’t stop. Jake! Hey, Jake!  As much as he tried, he couldn't say anything, as though the necessary connections between his brain and his vocal chords had disappeared. Then she began to cry, and he looked away. The crying stopped. He looked back, and his mother, this time on her hands and knees, tearing handfuls of hair out of her scalp, screamed. Jake! Don't! And she was pointing at the ladder, which had suddenly sprouted wings and had begun to fly. As it rose, higher and higher, Jake watched the silhouette of his mother fade away, and the ladder had turned into a large expanse of soil, and it was still flying, and a huge set of eyes at the front of the expanse looked back at Jake. They looked like paper mache, and his third grade teacher, Mrs. Montez, smiled at him from somewhere in the expanse. The paper mache eyes taunted him. He couldn't hear anything, but they taunted him, and he pounded the soil, and he tried to dig his way through, hoping to drop off into the thick gravy-like liquid that seemed to have begun to fall even harder. 

The light from the tall building to which he was being carried had become brighter. The paper mache eyes looked back at him, and one of them slowly winked. A voice that Jake recognized but couldn't place came from the expanse, and it suddenly made its way into his head. It was deep and scary. There it is, Jake! And you thought you could avoid it! Ha! Ha! Ha! Then the light began to penetrate his body. He looked down at his torso and saw a deep red glow, and he felt it squeezing him. He tried to grab it, but his hand went through his belly, and when he pulled it back, it was wet with the brown rain that slowly creeped off, blob by blob, and it landed on the soil. Then he fell back, and he was rolling. At first, he rolled intentionally, but when he tried to stop himself, he couldn't. And then he fell from the expanse, and he felt nothing, and he heard nothing.

When Jake awoke, he looked around. His heart was racing. The surface beneath him was covered with a soft sheet, and when he wiped the liquid from his forehead, it wasn't brown and it wasn't thick. His hair and pillow were wet with sweat. Realizing where he was, he sighed, "What the hell was that about? Geez!" And he flipped his pillow and rolled over on his side. He thought for a moment about the dream then dozed back off. 

He slept soundly until five hours later, when he heard the ringing phone in the kitchen. “Oh, shit!” he yelled. He couldn’t remember if he was supposed to have gone to work that day, and he hadn’t called Twila about the baby. 

He picked up the phone. "Hello."

"Mr. Bolan?"

"Yes."

"This is Doctor Crowley from Bridgeport Hospital. I'm sorry if I woke you."

"Oh, it's no problem, Doctor,” Jake rubbed his eyes and shook his head. “Is everything alright?"

The doctor said, "Everything's fine. It's just that I didn't see you when I finally made it out, and I wanted to congratulate you on the birth of your son."

Jake was impressed at his consideration. "Thanks, Doctor. It sounds like things turned out just fine, right?"

"Oh yes. We were concerned for a while there, but it seems the little guy has a pretty strong will already, and he hadn't agreed to be cooped up in there for one more minute." He laughed.

Jake laughed with him and said, "Well, he takes after his daddy that way, that's for sure."

The doctor replied, "Well, a happy and healthy future to your family."

Jake thanked him and asked, "Doc, do you know how long it will be before I'll need to...uh...before I'll be able to come back to the hospital?"

"You can come back whenever you like, of course, but your wife will most likely be asleep or groggy for the better part of the day," Then he added, "She'll be nursing the baby, of course, but the truth of the matter is she'll be tired for the next day or so."

"Okay, so what time..."

"I'd say it wouldn't do you much good to come back before later tonight. I won't be allowing guests until at least tomorrow. You get yourself some rest, Daddy. You're going to need it, to be sure."

Jake hung up the phone. He looked up at the clock: 3:35 PM. Then he thought about work and dialed the diner.

Twila answered the phone. “Ken’s. What can I do fer’ ya?”

Jake quickly replied, “What you can do fer’ me, young lady, is ta’ git’ me a ceeeegar! ‘Cause we got ourselves a little baby boy!”

Twila screamed like someone had been killed rather than birthed, and Jake and Twila laughed together.

Twila finally said, “Congratulations, Dad! Now tell me that new momma is doing good.”

Jake assured her that she was.

“And what kinda’ name have we got?” She asked.

“His name is Dean, Twila.”

“Ahh! Now that is so cute. Dean Bolan.” Then she asked Jake about his middle name.

“We haven’t decided on that yet, Twila. But I’ll let you know when we do.”

“Now Honey, don’t you even think ‘bout comin’ back ta work ‘till everythin’s good ‘n ready, hear?”

Jake was relieved. “Thanks a lot, Twila. That’s a load off my mind, for sure.” He told her about the shipment that would be coming in later that afternoon and apologized that he wouldn’t be there to haul the stuff in for her.

“I can call in any number o’ young fella’s to take care o’ things ‘till yer’ back. And we can’t hardly wait ta see pictures and hear all about it now, ya’ hear me!”

“I do, Twila. And thanks again. I’ll be in touch, okay?”

“Okay, darlin,’ and you be sure ‘n let me know if you need anything at all.”

“I will.”

Then she added, “And congratulate Momma for me, too!”

After Jake hung up the phone, he thought about how lucky he was to work with someone like Twila. And he determined again that his commitment to Ken’s Restaurant was the ticket to bigger and better things.

He walked toward the basement door and stared at the makeshift sign. 'Jake Bolan: Peace Room'

He thought about the sign and its message, and the more he thought about it, the more satisfied he became. It's perfect. 

And then Jake considered how he might choose to occupy his time for the next six to eight hours before he had to go back to the hospital. And his mind wandered to a few weeks prior when one of the truck drivers who had dropped off a load of dry goods had told him about the 'hell' that the first few months of fatherhood was for him, not because of the stress of the late nights followed by early morning workdays, but mostly because of the lack of satisfaction he’d gotten from his wife when he’d needed it most. It seemed that due to the trauma of childbearing and the stress of the preoccupation of a new baby, she just wasn't 'in the mood,’—ever. So he'd stopped by a local adult theater that showed the kinds of films that gave him almost all the satisfaction he'd needed.

"And all that was missin' was a little pussy," He'd said. "And for a few bucks, I found some o' that in a little room out behind the theater." He'd smiled and added, "They don't take checks, that's all." And he'd smiled again then had pulled out his wallet and had handed Jake a business card labeled, 'Pussycat Theater. Peep Shows 'n More. Open 24 hrs.' Jake turned it over and read, 'Pussycat: Where Naughty Dreams Cum True. We’ll Leave You Satisfied and Happy!’

Jake rushed downstairs to the basement and grabbed the card that he’d placed it between the pages of 'Ulysses.' He hurried back up, grabbed his keys and wallet from off of the bedroom floor, locked the front door behind him and directed Rookie to 606 Quarry Road. 

There were five other vehicles parked in the lot. He stepped out of the truck and looked at the dump in front of him. It wasn't at all what he had expected. The roof looked as if it hadn't attention for decades, and the front door paint was peeling badly, some of it having already fallen off and collected dirt and webs; piles of them. 

He grabbed the handle and cringed. It was dirty, and he tried hard not to imagine what remains might have been left on it. When he pulled it open, a stench that he didn’t recognize filled his nostrils and choked his throat for a moment. The lobby was small and simple. A bearded fat man stood at the counter, and when Jake looked up and smiled at him, the man nodded and said, "The fuckin' show's already started, but if you wanna go in, you can pay for it here. Just be quiet when you enter, and sit your ass down in the back."

Jake paid and asked for a ticket. 

The fat man snorted and said, "There's no ticket, man. This ain't no fuckin' Cinderella, right?"

Tentatively, Jake asked, “What’s playin’?”

The fat man slowly looked up and sarcastically asked, “Does it really matter?” Then he looked down at a small sheet of paper and said, “Banging In The Basement. That’s what’s playin.’”

Jake stepped through the dirty red velvet curtains that separated the theater from the lobby. A handful of patrons sat scattered throughout the small theatre, every guy sitting alone, which didn’t strike Jake as unusual. Just as directed, he sat down in the back, and he looked up at the screen. A woman with breasts larger than he'd ever seen was pulling a shirt back over her chest, and the man to whom the shirt belonged was zipping up his pants. They had been doing what they were doing in an elevator that opened up to a broad expanse of parked cars. The man and woman stepped out of it, and the woman said something to him. He smiled, and they both took off, screeching tires on the way out.

THE END scrolled up along with a few credits.

With the exception of one guy sitting in the very front row of the theatre, everyone got up and began sauntering out. Jake walked down to the lone patron and began to ask him something, but the man was sleeping, head down with a small bottle peaking out of a paper sack. Jake walked back to the lobby and asked the fat man if another film would be playing. He informed Jake that it took at least thirty minutes to get the next film ready and that if he wanted to wait, he’d have to pay first.

“I already paid.” Jake said.

Fat Man looked up at him and replied, “And you got what you paid for, little man.” Then he said, “If you want more you pay for more.”

Jake said, “Geez. I got maybe thirty seconds worth of film for my five dollar bill?”

The man grinned real big, the fatty creases of his chubby eyes nearly covering his pupils, and said, “Young feller like you…couldn’t get it off in thirty seconds?”

Jake wanted to mouth back, but something kept him from it. Leave well enough alone, he thought, and he left the Pussycat Theatre unsatisfied and angry.