Thought Wheel

From the mind of Ann Chiappetta

Pinch me, I’m Dreaming

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Since announcing the release of my first book of poems, UPWELLING, http://www.dvorkin.com/annchiappetta/, the feedback has been wonderful. Dozens of folks have pledged to purchase either the e book or printed book, much to my amazed mind. Yes, I am still adjusting to the attention. It’s a practical way on how to practice being gracious, which is also a good thing.

My publisher/editor team, Lenore and David Dworkin, www.leonoredvorkin.com, have been great, too. Other writers have agreed to help promote my book with ads in newsletters. The best was the first sale which took place yesterday.

And so, the newest thread in my own life loom begins. I’ve been giving this experience a great deal of brain energy; questions pop into my head and get me thinking them over. Questions like, why didn’t I do this before? I know it’s a bit silly but I can’t help it. Maybe it is as others have stated, that it is a little bit of luck and lots of patience. I am reminded of a Buddhist message, do nothing and all will be done. I have made a great effort to forego the worry and embrace the joy in this adventure. I do have this little voice cautioning me not to get too carried away, to stay grounded and limit the ego-boosting and remain humble.

All I need to do is go from my office into the kitchen and attack the mountain of dishes or start putting laundry away. Humble tasks for times when I need it most.

by Ann Chiappetta | tags : | 1

Here it is, Folks!

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Upwelling: Poetry
C 2016 by Ann Chiappetta
Guide dogs, death, and a disturbing dream. Marriage, memories, and intriguing mysteries. Eroticism, abortion, and a wonderfully poetic essay. In this collection of 23 of her short, highly accessible poems from several decades, Ann Chiappetta explores an enormous range of emotions and topics. Travel with her as she moves from illness, death, loss, and grief to renewed hope, security, and serenity.
For sale in e-book ($2.99) and print ($7.95) from Amazon, Smashwords, and other online sellers.
Full details and buying links: http://www.dvorkin.com/annchiappetta/

Ann Chiappetta’s poems, articles, and short fiction have been published in both print and online circulations, most notably Dialogue magazine, Matilda Ziegler online magazine, and other small press reviews. Her poetry has been featured in Lucidity, Midwest Poetry Review, Magnets and Ladders, and Breath & Shadow. She is also a contributing editor of the last-named publication.
Ann holds a Master of Science degree in marriage and family therapy and currently practices as a readjustment counseling therapist for the Department of Veterans Affairs.
She lives in New Rochelle, New York with her husband, daughter, and assortment of pets.
To read more of her writing, go to www.thought-wheel.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/annie.chiappetta
Follow Ann on Twitter: AnnieDungareesHere It Is Folks!

by Ann Chiappetta | tags : | 0

How Cool Is This?

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This is an update on the book project. I am happy to announce that my first book of poems, titled, Upwelling: poems by Ann Chiappetta will be available soon in both eBook and printed versions. It is 61 pages. The photo of the orchid in black and white for the front cover and the black and white photo of Verona, my first guide dog as well as the author pic were taken by my talented sister, Cheryll Romanek. I wish I could share them here bbut I have to save them for the book. The book is dedicated to our Mom, Mary, who died last July from lymphoma.

How did I get this far? I used the three P’s: practice, patience and perseverance. First, I wrote, re-wrote and wrote even more. I recall a televised interview with Michael Crighton which has stayed with me. When asked by a fan how to become a great writer, he said, “you have to write,”. I spent years offering up my work to other writers in critique groups and revised again. I read many poems, took verse writing classes, and concentrated on perfecting the art form. I performed each poem until I was satisfied with how it sounded read aloud as well as how it appeared on the page. This took many years.

Next, I spent a year researching possible self-publishing options, prices, and used the consumer-driven power within to call and email questions, and rejected all but one publisher. Let me tell you, folks, it doesn’t matter whether you are a Rhodes scholar or Mr. Salt of the Earth, if you can pay, you can print and sell a book.

In my inexperienced mind, I was put off by this shadow world of the vanity press at first; one didn’t need talent, only enough words to fill at least 50 pages and the credit card to foot the bill. I was turned off, to be blunt. How would my work, which I thought had merit and meaning and most of all, potential, compare and stand out against some of these other authors who had the money to pay big bookmakers?

I was disillusioned. I didn’t have that kind of money. Before that, I tried doing my own desktop publishing, but depending upon friends to “get back” to me was just unrealistic and a burden on the friendship. I could not access the software myself and had to rely on a third person to create the correct format, etc. One printer even refused to handle the black and white prints, which was frustrating to both me and my sister. Another printing company sent me a 75-page instruction book that was more like a programming guide – the techno-speak and desktop tasks were like a foreign language.
I eventually put my big girl boots on and scraped up enough money to pay for editing services and moved on. I did not want my project to interfere with our friendship, so I left well enough alone, so to speak.

I made sure the words were just how I wanted them, then I began the search for the right editor. I also did another thing that ended up being the most helpful: reading books by other authors like me who are good writers and who have already published by looking up the publishers and/or the printing companies. This was the most rewarding step and the last researching piece of the book publishing puzzle falling into place. I am a writer who is blind, I cannot appreciate the visual aesthetics of desktop publishing. I can, however, find the right kind of help to accomplish the task.

What I can say about the process is once you connect with the right people, it will all quickly fall together, so be ready. It may even seem surreal, after plowing for what may have seemed like eons searching for the right people, to be led down a path of dead ends, to expect yet another disappointment, and then be swept up and carried away is quite a pleasant shock.
Yes, it is that exciting, at least for me, but I am a thrill seeker anyway. Wheeee!

And now we are here, getting ready to announce a slim volume of poems written after I began losing my vision. The subjects are varied, just like life. Love, loss, hope, hurt, joy, faith, lust, rejection, trust, trauma, reflections of the human condition. Each poem contributes to the upwelling of emotion and feeling I have touched upon while writing the prose.
I hope you will buy the book, of course, but most of all, I want this book to help heal or change something for the person reading it. I want to hear about the transformative value this book may have upon another person.
Thanks to Lenore for her expert editing, www.leonoredvorkin.com
to David Dworkinwww.dvorkin.com
for his technical expertise and services, and to Patty Fletcher http://www.dvorkin.com/pattyfletcher/
for indirectly leading me to the Dworkins from her book, Campbell’s Rambles.

Stay tuned for other updates and the official release of Upwelling.

by Ann Chiappetta | tags : | 1

Not Lost in Translation

| Filed under Guide dogs Uncategorized

Today Bailey and I went out to run some errends. On our walk we encountered construction blocking the sidewalk. The first blockde was fairly easy – Bailey took us to it, I figured out what it was, directed him to find the way around it. He took me to the curb, then went into the street during the lull in traffic, and back onto the side walk where it was clear. A dozen steps further, however, we got stuck. Not only was there another barrier, but a huge truck was parked at the curb, so we were unable to navigate like we did the first time. As I stood at the curb, deciding on back tracking and crossing one block down and to come back up on the other side of the street, a man approached me. He spoke no English but offered his elbow. Talk about a true gift. I nodded my thanks, and he expertly guided me to the curb on the opposite side of the street. Once safely across, he babbled something as if to say, it was safe now and I smiled, patted his arm and thanked him. Thank you, whoever you are, you just made my day.

by Ann Chiappetta | tags : | 3

The Fluidity of Guide Dogs For Those Who Don’t Know

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Just the other day I was asked by a friend what was the difference between walking with a white cane versus a guide dog. I thought about it for a long time, eventually giving them a standard and uncomplicated answer: a cane detects things, a guide dog avoids them.

Later on in the week I thought about the question again, and knowing I needed to write another post for my blog, I decided to expand upon the question.
I asked myself, what are the most difficult challenges while finding my way around the environment and how does a dog help more than a cane? I will also state here that I am still a cane user. I, doo in fact use my cane at least once every day or at night to keep in practice. I do not condone giving up cane skills for guiding skills. As a person with a visual disability, I need all the tools I can acquire to be as independent as possible and having both a dog and being able to pick up a cane and use it confidently keeps in line with this personal philosophy.

Okay, now that the “I don’t Hate White Canes” disclaimer has been stated, we can now move onto the main idea of the post: what I find more natural and why.
While first learning to use a cane, I learned how much navigating I could tolerate and I was disappointed to discover I could not mentally tolerate more than an hour of independent walking and way finding with just myself and the cane. Sure, I could tap around a hotel, store, or familiar place without a serious drain on my brain power. The drain came when I was out on the street going from point A to point B and the attention it required. I would call it hyper awareness that took absolute control at all times or I would risk tripping, falling, or getting lost. I will also tell you, constant reader, that I suffer from a mild traumatic brain injury and since the injury, I do have some trouble with coordination and multi tasking. Using a cane just hurt my head.

Working a dog requires awareness, better than average way finding skills and complete trust in the dog’s ability to guide. Some of the same tools, yet also a different feeling altogether. Yes, it is different physically, but it is also freeing, once you get the hang of it. The dance is graceful, like a waltz, rather than the herky jerk of the jitterbug. The team is more than one person and an unfeeling object; the dog listens to you, you listen to the dog and together way finding becomes more accurate, relaxed and even fun. I don’t know about you, but I never confided in my cane that I had fun finding my way around that parking lot safely or thanking my cane for getting us past that broken up sidewalk without a scratch or twisted ankle. Plus, unlike a cane, working with the dog didn’t hurt my head.

Below are some examples I no longer find unsafe or anxiety provoking thanks to my canine companion that, if I used a cane, would be more difficult and even a bit of a hazard.

Hallways and corridors. Those hospital or nursing home halls sometimes cluttered with beds, wheelchairs, and food/medication carts don’t matter, we just step around it all with quiet ease. No tapping, clanging on objects or other patients’ ankles. Have you ever knocked over a blood pressure station, you know, the ones that roll around and rattle when moved? I don’t worry about doing that again thanks to my dog.

Hotel corridors strewn with those pesky cleaning carts, armed with protruding spray bottles and broom handles, vacuum cords, and room service trays. No issues here, except maybe a leave it command not to sniff the leftover food trays on the floor.

Motels are also a challenge unless your dog can find the door to the room so you don’t have to trail the wall and risk hitting someone while passing their door. Yes, folks, I was trailing the wall while in a motel and as I passed my hand across a door, it opened, and I accidentally groped a woman’s booby shelf. “nuff said. A dog will target your door and take you to it so you don’t need to trail a wall to find it.

Routes without sidewalks, while taking more practice, are much more easily traversed when the dog does the shore lining. For those who don’t know, shore lining is a phrase describing how to follow the path by finding the natural grass line or shoulder boarding a road. Cane users must keep in constant touch with it or risk veering out into traffic or other hazards. A dog will keep to the line of travel and when prompted, will also bring the team to it and remain there while traffic passes, then resume the line of travel upon command.

I have taught my dogs to find people by name, like “Daddy” and by the names of other dogs. That is handy when in a crowded room or finding one’s way back from the restroom.

Finding the checkout counter in a store is another cool thing, along with finding the steps, elevator, door, chair, bathroom and other locations that make a huge difference in the mutability of life while passing through it.

If the explanations above don’t convince you, that in most circumstances, a dog is safer than a cane, maybe these will:
Have you ever had your cane tip snapped off by a car turning right on red? I have, I’ve also had it snatched from my hand and broken by a turning car and a speeding bicycle. My dog, like many other dogs before him, have pushed, pulled, or shoved their handlers away from danger. Each time this happens, I am reminded of the first time my dog pulled me from being hit by a car and it still makes me get emotional.

A white cane can’t be thanked or petted. Or make choices that keep you safe. Or let your mind feel relaxed while walking through a quiet street. Or feel less anxious when traveling through a crowd. Or help you traverse a train platform or airport terminal filled with people, bags and strollers.

After traveling for extended periods with my cane, I’d be mentally exhausted, as if I just been through a 400 question math exam. The level of concentration, for me, was tremendous and I would often suffer from headaches and fatigue when traveling at night, too.

My dog helped mitigate all of it. The only part I work on is night travel and this is only because I now suffer from vertigo, which is worse at night.

Yes, using a cane or a dog is a skill set that takes time to learn and a good amount of practice. Either will keep one safe but in my opinion, a white cane has a more frequent user failure. What I mean is even if I think it is safe, my dog will evaluate my decision and, if necessary, divert us from a potentially harmful result. A white cane does not have this fail safe and cannot use intelligent disobedience. Who coined the phrase two heads are better than one? Simple and totally apropos for team work.

I hope you’ve learned a little bit more about what it means to live with and work with a dog. I also hope you’ve appreciated the effort and time it takes to learn to travel without the benefit of sight. Thanks for reading.

by Ann Chiappetta | tags : | 0

The Little Things in Life

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The little Things in Life

This morning I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I was feeling sorry for myself. I was frustrated about not being able to control what menopause is doing to my body, what the asthma meds are doing to my metabolism and so on. I just felt ugly and fat.
Even my husband said he wasn’t going to comfort me because I was feeling sorry for myself.

I moped around until it was time to go to physical therapy. After PT, I sat in the waiting area with my guide dog at my feet. I’d already fended off another patient who wanted to pet him saying, oh, he’s the spitting image of my dog, Ollie, etc., and was eating a granola bar while waiting for my ride to work.

A little girl about 3 years old was being watched by staff as her Mom was getting treatment. She wandered over to me and asked me the best questions a youngling could have asked. I must say, I was impressed.

She asked why the dog was there, to which I replied, he is my eyes, I am blind and can’t see. She asked what the thing was around his neck and back and I told her about the harness and how it helped me. She asked why she can’t pet him and I said he has to be able to help me and not get distracted. She took all of it in and after she finished checking us out she returned to her mom.

The woman mentioned earlier who kept asking me if she could pet Bailey bent to pet him and the girl said, “You can’t pet him he’s working,”
I almost burst out laughing. I wish I could have seen that woman’s face. Lol

I thanked the girl and said that not petting the dog while he’s working was the right thing to do. If I was her Mom, I’d be proud. It lifted my spirits, for sure.

by Ann Chiappetta | tags : | 0

Where Have I Been?

| Filed under Guide dogs Poem Uncategorized

I haven’t blogged in a while, so here’s a long awaited update. First, I want to tell you all I am in the process of printing my first poetry book. After months of researching publishing options, pricing, and technical limitations, I decided to self-publish. I cannot afford a robust publishing contract, so I turned to printing companies who specialize in copy printing and on demand distribution instead. This was much less stressful on the wallet but I am doing a lot of the set up with the help of friends who have experience in desk top printing. I have chosen the title, cover, poems, and am now waiting for the copy and formatting to come along.

The result will be a simple 6 x 9 fold over and stapled booklet, probably about 40 pages. I will be registering it for an ISBN # and it will be for sale on Amazon and other online booksellers once it is released. I will be writing the press release and selling it, another cost I just didn’t have money to pay someone else to do for me. Best of all, I will be dedicating it to Mom, who was always my biggest fan and a wonderful writer as well. Thanks to the years working on the PR committee for American Council of the Blind and other organizations, I have experience with promoting and using social media to help me.

I’m actually excited to be doing this, can’t wait to take part in a reading and meet folks.

Will people be surprised I am blind? Hopefully they will look at the back cover and see the photo of Bailey and I and not make too much out of it. I also thought of just how much I wish to use my disability as a selling point. I don’t. I want folks to want to read it based on my talent, not because I am a talented blind person. I am a poet and writer who is blind, not a blind poet and writer. Semantics? Perhaps but important to me and to the blindness community as a whole.

Okay, enough for now, I will post more when I get to the next step in the process. Until then, celebrate our Independence and have a great summer.

by Ann Chiappetta | tags : | 0

what is it about change?

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I’m not sure what I want to convey in this thread – maybe a lot to do about nothing – but something’s niggling at me and I have to work it out the writing way. I’m going to back up a little bit and preface this entry by admitting that while I am good at leading folks, I often find myself doing it because nobody else will step up. That in itself presents a troubling situation, as the project that nobody wants is also usually difficult. There is also an added element that the leader wants the change to happen and possesses the tolerance, passion and fortitude to push through the resistance. As for specifics and how all of this involves me, I think this is about the roles people play when change occurs. Finding it within myself personally to accept that no matter how responsibly one acts, there will be those who disagree is my main challenge. Tolerating these negative reactions can be uncomfortable and ugly. When disturbing the system, one must be ready for intense resistance. Being ready for it, what does this mean? In one situation it meant being able to take insults spoken about me in public with my friends and colleagues listening. In another, it meant asking for help from a strong advocate to assist me during disagreements wherein I had lost a key element of perspective. In yet another, it resulted in more insults and lies being shared in anobvious snub. How do these people sleep at night? More to the point, it took a considerable amount of self talk to not take being insulted personally and throw in the towel on the entire project.
I did persevere, though I didn’t walk away with what I thought was an acceptable compromise. There was one positive part, though, I and others also pushing for the change in the situation were rewarded with validation that the goals were worth the effort by individuals whom I respect and value. Do I want to pay back the individuals who have insulted me? I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t admit it, and I am hoping that one day those lies will one day fade in time and in intensity and folks will know the lies were meant to be a distraction from the lack of effort and due diligence of the accuser. What have I learned from the recent situation? Let’s see, now …when others refuse to accept change, it’s usually because they fear it. It is the fear, not the actual result which makes people resist it. It is taking the risk, not knowing the outcome, and pushing ahead anyway that is the reward. Change makers are risk takers. I hope one day the individuals who spoke against the changes I mention here will eventually grasp the concept and goals necessitating change. It is the change that is helping people; this is the goal, to begin a series of actions which will result in even bigger and more positive actions.

I didn’t ever consider myself a risk-taker. I’m still not sure if it’s a comfortable fit, but I’m willing to try it on now and then to find out if the shoe still fits.

by Ann Chiappetta | tags : | 1

A review of Sorts

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A review of Sorts

My birthday is coming and I thought about all the that happened since last year at this time. I also began feeling a little defeated, sliding down into the pity pit. I turned some not-so-happy happenings, like losing our Mom, fracturing my foot, getting pneumonia while training with my new guide dog and dealing with menopausal mania through it all. Before I slid into the pit completely, though, I grabbed onto safety rail and kept myself from falling in – a coping tool learned from being on the edge of that nasty pit many times – and as it happened, the damage was minimal. Didn’t even scuff my shoe.

I kept from succumbing by thinking of the good things I accomplished or experienced until now and they outweigh the sad and disappointing things I just mentioned. For instance, I did finally get my new guide dog and we just celebrated our one year anniversary. I am part of a terrific program that visits elementary schools and teaches children about people with disabilities. Through a huge effort and help from my peers, we have a guide dog users group that will be active in New York State, and I have found so many supportive people in my travels, it’s extremely gratifying.

I have also had to make some difficult decisions regarding my volunteer roles and commitments. I will be stepping down from some and doing more in others. While it bothers me that I cannot complete some of the obligations, while I was in the role, I know I did my best.
As I evaluated which volunteer roles I needed to give up, the main concern was whether I was valued in that particular role and if not, why I was still doing it. I realized I wasn’t being valued by the leadership, and this helped me make the decision to step down.

One of my clients often says, “If I can’t make money from it or it won’t make me happy doing it, I can do without it,”

I wouldn’t be able to help others by not finding gratification in doing a task, either, even if it meant not being compensated by greenbacks For me, it’s about feeding my spirit, knowing I am making a difference, and bearing witness to those changes.

by Ann Chiappetta | tags : | 0

On Writing, Again

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On Writing, Again

This will be a long post, over 4,400 words, as it includes a short piece I’ve been working on for a collection I one day hope will be a reality. I’ve tried to write within genre constraints, however, I often blur the boundaries a bit. Lately I feel a little frustrated with literary genre limitations. Who created them, anyway? The top echelons of the writing world? Doesn’t seem fair to me, but then, I am not one to conform unless there is a very good reason, at least in terms of my creative endeavors.

So, constant reader, here is a character short, the time and place set in the late 1970s. It could be considered a young adult story, a literary piece, or general fiction. You decide. Enjoy.
Summer 1977
By Ann Chiappetta

Shawna heard Bobby calling; he’d been out there for a long time, long enough to hear his voice grow hoarse. She tried to tune him out by turning up the volume on the TV. But she could still hear him through the open window. She wished she didn’t hear him. It took all she had to try and ignore it. A few days ago, one of the girls in her apartment complex said that Bobby was breaking up with Lauren so he could ask Shawna out. But it sure didn’t sound that way. It sounded like he still wanted to go out with Lauren.
“Lauren, come out, please, let’s talk, okay?”
Silence, then, a window slammed shut.
She snuck over to the window. He was still looking up at the third floor, his face red and sweaty. Shawna was peering at him from behind the house plants lining the sun dappled ledge, only a dozen feet above the slanted and terraced sidewalk.
He wore a faded Jethro Tull t-shirt that had once been black but was now a flat grayish color. He was barefoot; his cut-off jeans sagged on his bony hips.

Shawna leaned closer to the window for a better look.
“Hey there, Shawna,” said Bobby.
Shawna froze.
“Why don’t you come hang out?”
Shawna frowned,
“I don’t know,” She said, stepping away from the window.
“Aw, why not?”
“I don’t know,”
Bobby looked away, scratched a forearm, then squinted up at her,
“So, are you coming down or what?”
This was it, she thought, if she went downstairs it was almost a sure thing that he’d ask her to be his girlfriend. That’s the way Bobby did things. She’d watched him do it with the other eighth grade girls, like Denise, Liz, and now Lauren. They’d all gone out with Bobby and once they each broke up with him, the other boys were waiting to ask them out and Bobby went onto the next girl.
“Did you and Lauren break up?” she asked, just to be sure she wasn’t going to be the brunt of a bad joke.
Bobby nodded,
“Yeah, I guess,”
“I’ll be down in five minutes,” Said Shawna, running into her room to get dressed.
She shrugged off the faded t-shirt and put on a new pair of denim shorts and lime green halter top. The virgin white of her un-tanned belly peeked out from under it. She yanked on her shorts until they covered most of it. She slipped on her sandals and re-tied her chestnut ponytail as she left to meet Bobby.
* * *
Bobby looked over at the playground where Alan and a few other boys were hanging out. It was too hot to wait for Shawna on the sidewalk. He noticed the benches were in the shade. He went over to join them, taking a seat on the second bench by himself. The hot July sun was below the tree line and the air felt cooler there.
Bobby took out his Zippo and snapped his wrist to open and close it, the metallic sound echoing in the late July humidity.
Alan’s round freckled face was red with sunburn
“Got a smoke?” he asked Bobby, eyeing the lighter.
“Nope,” Replied Bobby, putting away the lighter.
Alan fished out a flip top box of cigarettes from the side pocket of his white carpenter’s pants and plucked out two, handing them to Bobby.
“Thanks,” Bobby said and stashed them behind his ear, covering them with a handful of blond curls. Alan always plied him with some cigarettes before pumping him for make-out questions.
“How far did you get with Lauren before she broke up with you?” asked Gary, who was too young to even ask. Bobby didn’t answer at first, hoping Gary would drop the subject. “She’s a prude.” Alan said, Right Bobby?”
Bobby shrugged, “Yeah, I guess,”
“Hey, here come Shawna. Maybe she’ll let you feel her up,” Alan made a kneading gesture with his hands accompanied by a lewd sound. The boys all laughed. Bobby didn’t join in, his attention elsewhere.
Shawna entered the playground and walked up to where Bobby sat. She noticed he wasn’t sitting with Alan and the others. That was good because Alan was a jerk and the other boys were his robots.
Hi Bobby,” She said, ignoring the other boys.
“Hi. New clothes?” he asked his eyes on her breasts. He didn’t know why Alan had convinced him that she was fat, because only her face was round. He admired her firm, tanned body, deciding he’d rather have a chance with her than with Lauren.
Shawna blushed.
Alan and the other boys snickered. Shawna turned to them,
“What’s so funny?” she demanded, then turned to Bobby, “I thought you
Were here alone,”
Bobby looked at Alan and the whispering stopped.
“Why don’t you sit down?” he said, patting the bench beside him. Shawna gave a final look at the other boys, and then sat next to Bobby. She leaned over,
“Can’t you get them to leave?” she whispered.
Bobby shrugged.
“Just ignore them,” He suggested his eyes on her cleavage.
“I have to go in soon.” She said, I have to be home when my Mom gets home or else,”
Bobby nodded, “Okay.”
He touched her hand, “I think you’re nicer than Lauren. She never wanted to do anything fun,” He frowned up at the other girl’s window.
“I like to do fun stuff,” Shawna said, mentally urging him to ask her out.
Bobby smiled; making sure his lips covered most of his teeth. They weren’t white and straight like Shawna’s and he didn’t want her to notice the discoloration. If anyone asked why his teeth weren’t white, his mother told him to say the asthma medicine turned his teeth yellow.
They talked for a few minutes, doing their best to ignore the other boys, who continued their snickering and whispered taunts.
Shawna looked at her watch.
“I got to go, Mom’s coming home soon,” She said and stood. Bobby caught her hand,
“Wait, I want to ask you something,” He said, standing up and facing her.
“Yes?” It came out as a whisper. She looked up into his light blue eyes. If there was a way for her to get into his brain and tell him what to ask, Shawna would have done it. But the best she could manage was a mental chant, ask me out, ask me out.
“Will you be my girlfriend?”
Shawna smiled and squeezed his hand, taking a breath. She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until she tried to speak.
“Yes, Bobby, I’ll be your girlfriend,” She looked at her watch again, “But I really have to go now. I’ll be at the pool tomorrow. Are you going to be there.”
“Yeah, I’ll be there , later.”
She said goodbye and left.

“It is balloon,” Joked Alan as she walked away. The other boys guffawed and giggled. Bobby stood up, not laughing at the F-Troop jibe aimed at his new girlfriend
“No wonder you guys don’t got anyone,” He said. He plucked a cigarette from behind his ear and lit it on his way out of the playground.

* * *

Shawna stepped into the pool at the low end, the water sending a ripple of goose bumps up her legs. She went in two more steps and sat on the first step. Once used to the water’s slight chill, Shawna sat on the second step and watched the life guard skim the leaves from the pool with the long handled net.
Lauren came in and, after setting up a lounge chair, dipped a toe into the water.
“Saw you talking to Bobby last night,” She said, lifting her foot to test the water with the other toe.
“He said you broke up,” Shawna noted, not sure how she would react, remembering that Lauren had slammed the window shut on bobby yesterday.
“Yes, I broke up with him. My mother doesn’t like him, says he’s sneaky,” Said Lauren, stepping into the water.
The bikini barely covered her pubic hair and her hip bones jutted out over the bikini’s bottom straps. Shawna scooted away to the other side of the steps to give the other girl more room. She noticed Lauren’s fleshless bottom made the back of the bikini sag and gap.
“Well, he asked me out,” Said Shawna, wondering why Lauren’s skin was so white.
“Fine with me,” She said, “Want to play some backgammon when we get out?”
“Sure,” Shawna shrugged, watching Lauren’s white body glide into the water, slipping on her nose clip before she went under.

Bobby came to the pool with Alan. By the time they showed up, Shawna and Lauren had played three games of backgammon, Shawna winning two out of three. Lauren had closed up the board and started reading a book. Shawna was in her lounge chair tanning. She wore a black one piece that tied at the neck like the halter top she wore yesterday. Her entire body was brown, thanks to her Italian heritage and spending five or so hours a day outside or swimming in the pool.

She sat up, fanning her face.
“I’m going in,” she said to Lauren and instead of wading in, she walked to the deep end and dived in, coming up a few feet from where Bobby and Alan were playing cards. She flicked some pool water near them to get their attention.
“Hey, Bobby, aren’t you ready for a swim yet?” she asked
He put down his cards and looked up at the sun. Then he looked over at Shawna and smiled, careful not to show too much tooth.
I could use a swim,” He said, getting up.
Alan shrugged and began to scoop up the cards.
Shawna watched Bobby dive in, his tall, thin body shot through the water like a torpedo. Alan wasn’t as graceful and used the ladder to ease his plump body into the aquatic depths.
Shawna waited for Bobby to swim to the far side of the pool’s deep end. He swam and surfaced next to her, catching his breath.
“Want to dive for quarters?” he asked, fishing one from his tattered and sun-bleached swim trunks. He flicked it into the middle of the deep end; tracking it down into the clear bblueuntil it hit the bottom.
“Do you see it?” she asked
“Yes, I see it,” He said, sucking in a breath and dived dolphin like his momentum driving him to the bottom. Shawna whooped when his hand shot out of the water, the quarter held between his thumb and forefinger. He sidled next to her, one arm holding on to the lip of the pool.
“Wanna try it?” he asked, holding out the coin.
“I don’t know, it’s deep,” She demurred
“Won’t know if you can or not unless you try,”
She hesitated, then,
“Will you get it if I can’t”
“Sure will,”
“Okay, then, I’ll do it,”
Shawna tracked the coin and plunged down to the bottom. She came up like a bullet, the coin in hand.
Shawna shot up from the bottom on her third dive, slapping the quarter down on the pool’s edge.
“Bobby, this is getting boring, let’s do something else.”
“I bet you can’t get down there faster than I can.” He challenged
“Bet you I can.” She replied, “I beat all the other girls at it.”
“Okay, eyes open and we gotta touch the drain.” He said, “Or it won’t count.”
Shawna nodded and got in position.
“On three.” Said Bobby and bounced a little as he counted.
The two bodies exploded off the side of the pool, cleaving straight down for the drain at the bottom of the deep end. Shawna reached it first and she turned to push off to the surface nine feet above when Bobby caught her and kissed her on the lips. They popped out of the water together, Bobby was smirking and Shawna was blushing, breathless.
“What did you do that for?” she asked wiping her mouth with a hand.
“You’re my girlfriend, right?”
“Yes.”
“That’s what girlfriends and boyfriends do, they kiss.”
Shawna dipped her head back to slick the hair from her face, and then swam out away from him.
“I don’t know if I like it,”
Bobby shrugged, and for the remainder of the afternoon, she played pool games with the other kids, careful not to let Bobby get too close.
* * *
Shawna inserted the key into the mailbox and turned it. The letters tipped out into her hand. She closed the box and turned to go back to her apartment.
“So, you’re Bobby’s girlfriend now?” asked Lauren, as she turned the corner and went to her mailbox
“I guess so.”
Lauren nodded,
“Well, when he wants to be alone with you , watch out.”
“What do you mean?” Shawna clutched the letters to her chest, crinkling them. The sound echoed in the hall.
Lauren sighed and tossed her long, frizzy hair,
“Jeez, Shawna, what do you think he wants to do with you in the dark, play cards?”
Shawna looked around,
“You mean he wants to make out …with me?”
Lauren made a not-too-nice sound and walked past her,
“Yes, with you, and not just first base, Dummy. He wants to go all the way.”
Shawna stood there, watching her leave, wondering why Lauren was being so mean. Wasn’t she the one who broke it off with Bobby? Didn’t that imply she didn’t like or want him anymore? None of her friends went all the way. That was just stupid.
“Good luck. “ Lauren called over her shoulder, “Oh, we all saw you and bobby kiss in the deep end. Gross.”
The stairway door clanged shut. Shawna waited until it was quiet again before walking to her own door. Once inside she put down the mail and thought about what Lauren said.

* * *
The water made Shawna gasp; a few days of rain and mild temperatures gave the vivid blue water a coolness that drove most of the tenants from it after only a quick dip. Not Shawna, however, she loved the cooler water when the summer heat was at its worst.
She sat on the steps in the low end, rubbing at her chilled flesh.
“Hey Shawna.”
Bobby stood on the other side of the chain link fence separating the pool and the playground.
“Bobby? Why aren’t you in the pool?” she asked.
“Got kicked out this morning for dunking Alan.”
“Shawna nodded. She’d slept late and didn’t come out to the pool until after he’d been told to leave.
“For how long?”
“Just today. Why don’t you come out and keep me company?”
“Okay.” Agreed Shawna, “Let me get my stuff and dry off.”
Her feet squelched in the damp flip-flops as they walked down the path leading to the side door of the building.
“Got anything to eat?” Bobby asked, “It’s lunchtime, right?”
“Yes, peanut butter and jelly.”
“Cool.” He said, opening the door for her.
Shawna paused before going into her apartment,
“We have to be quiet, my Mom’s on night shift this week so she’s sleeping.”
Bobby nodded and stepped inside, closing the door with a gentle push.
“I’m starving, can I make a double-decker?”
“Yes, but we can’t leave any evidence that I fed you or my Mom will kill me.”

They ate and washed out the milk glasses, dishes, and utensils’, then sat in the livingroom watching TV, the volume barely audible.
“What time does your Mom wake up?” asked Bobby, scooting closer to Shawna so that their thighs touched.
“Um. In about an hour.”
Bobby nodded and put his arm around Shawna’s sun browned shoulders. She was still wearing her bathing suit. She had tied a towel around her waist to keep the sofa from getting a wet spot.
“Kissing is quiet, you know. If we kiss a little, she won’t know, will she?”
“Um, I guess not.”
Bobby leaned in and put his lips to her ear and gave it a quick lick. Shawna closed her eyes and almost stopped breathing. Bobby whispered a laugh.
“Relax, Shawna, I won’t hurt you.”
“I know.” She said, letting him take her hand out of her lap and unclench it. They stayed like that for a few moments before Bobby placed it on his knee. He moved in again, this time kissing her neck, rewarded by Goosebumps breaking out on her upper arms and chest. Without hesitating, Bobby got in closer and kissed her half open lips. Her hand went to his chest and she tried to push him off. He probed her mouth with his tongue and she eased off, then let him put both arms around her and soon they were pressed into the couch, oblivious to everything except the mouth-to-mouth sensations.
The toilet flushed down the hall.
“Shit, that’s my Mom, Hurry, you have to leave but be quiet.” Said Shawna, squirming out from under Bobby and pulling him up with an urgent jerk on the arm. He left, slipping out the door quiet as a cat. Shawna sat back down and closed her eyes, looking as if she was napping, even though her heart felt like it would explode.
“Shawna, did I hear the front door?” asked her Mom, still in her pajamas.
“What I was sleeping.” She said, rubbing at her eyes and yawning.
“Oh, maybe it was upstairs.” She said. It sounded like someone was rolling a bowling ball in the hall in the apartment above them. Her Mom sighed,
“I miss living in a house.”
She went into the kitchen and after calming down a bit, Shawna got up to join her.
“Mom, do I have to go to Dad’s this weekend?” she asked, touching the ear Bobby had licked.
“Yes honey, I’m working doubles all weekend. Its better you stay at your Dad’s” said Mom, taking out the tuna fish and bread for her own sandwich later that night.
Shawna sighed and crossed her arms,
“But Mom, there’s been plenty of times I’ve stayed home when you work doubles. It’s not like you’re far away if something happened. “
“I know, honey, but it’s your Dad’s weekend and you know he gets upset if you cancel.”
Shawna made a dismissive sound through her nose,
“Come on, Mom, I hate going there now because of the Witch. Dad hardly knows I’m there when she’s around.”
“Shawna, that’s not polite.” Her Mom admonished, “His new wife is not a Witch.”
“Then why does she act like one Please Mom? Let me stay home. I promise I’ll call in every hour if you want and go up to Mrs. Horowitz’s for dinner, too.”
“That’s some deal, honey, but Mrs. Horowitz’s in Florida for a few weeks.”
“Please Mom? You know me and Portia just don’t get along.”
It surprised her that once admitting to it, she really did hate Dad’s new wife. It just wasn’t the same anymore. She let the frustration fuel some unshed tears and sniffed them back. Being here alone was ten times better than enduring Portia’s’ snotty remarks.
Mom finished making her sandwich and turned to Shawna,
“Okay, but you absolutely cannot bring anyone into the apartment.
Shawna unfolded her arms and gasped,
“You mean I can stay?” she asked, her voice rising with each word
“Yes, I guess so, but,” she put her hand on Shawna’s shoulder fir emphasis” No company, not even Lauren. We can’t afford to feed your friends.”
“Okay, I promise no company and no giving out food, either.”
Her Mom smiled, and then laughed when Shawna hugged and kissed both cheeks.
“Just remember absolutely no shenanigans.”
* * *
As soon as Shawna dived in the deep end, she lingered in the cool, clear water and risked a glance behind her. She smiled, releasing bubbles from the sides of her mouth. Bobby was coming; she let him catch up and try to grab a leg before stroking for the surface. They broke through together, sputtering and coughing.
He held onto the side of the pool next to her, their bodies touching.
“I didn’t know you were so ticklish.” He teased, reaching for her. Shawna giggled and moved away from him.
“Not everywhere, just my legs.”
“Oh really? Let me see.” He said, reaching for her again. She spun away, stroking for the opposite side of the pool. He followed her, catching up with long, distance eating strokes. He waited until they were almost at the wall and caught her, she came up out of the water in his arms, and then he fell back, dunking both of them. When they stood up in the low end, laughing and wiping water from eyes and noses, and the lifeguard blew his whistle,
“No dunking, bobby, remember what happened last time?” he warned.
“Come on, Tad, she wanted me to do it, right Shawna?”
“That’s right, it’s only a game.” She agreed.
Tad wasn’t impressed.
“Cut it out or you’re out, got it?”
Bobby threw up his arms, conceding.

The pool was crowded and they got out, playing cards while drying off.
“My Mom’s working late tonight.” Announced Shawna
Bobby stopped shuffling and looked up at her.
“What time do you want me to come over?”
“After dinnertime. I’ve only got enough money to get a slice of pizza. No food. Dad didn’t pay his child support this week.
“Why not?” Bobby asked, dealing out the cards for gin rummy.
“I don’t know. Maybe his new wife wants it.”
“I’ll come after we eat.”

* * *

Shawna was scrubbing out the macaroni and cheese pot when the door bell rang. She dropped the pot into the sink and went to the door, leaving the water running.
She let Bobby in and he followed her back into the kitchen. Shawna went back to finishing the dishes and he sat on the counter. “Thought you said you were getting pizza.” eyeing the leftover elbow macaroni covered in the yellowish orange powdered cheese mix.
“I found two boxes of the Mac and cheese in our cabinet so I saved the pizza money for another day.”
She placed the pot in the drying rack and wiped her hands on a dish rag. She turned from the sink and hung the dish rag on a hook.
“Don’t you ever wear shoes?” she asked, looking down at his tanned, calloused feet.
Bobby grinned without showing his teeth,
“Nah, not in the summer. It saves my folks a lot of money, not having to buy me those faggy sandals.”
He slid off the counter and took her hand, “Let’s go watch some TV.” he said, leading her from the kitchen to the living room. Shawna turned on the TV and flipped through the channels until she found something they both liked, and then sat beside Bobby. She noticed he didn’t smell like pool water and sweat and decided she liked the new smell. It reminded her of the scent that came out of the dryers in the laundry room. His hair was clean and brushed back from his face. It made his eyes look even brighter.
Your hair gets really light blond in the summer,” she said, reaching out to play with it. His blue eyes met hers,
“When I was little it was so blond it looked white.”
Shawna began running her fingers through it and he closed his eyes, leaning into her hand. Before she realized it, Bobby’s head was in her lap and she was gently stroking his entire head.
After a while, Bobby opened his eyes and licked his lips. Shawna leaned over him. He was looking at her, not staring, but like he could see inside her head
“What is it?” she asked, and was answered by his kiss. She kissed him back, then sat up, giggling.
“I never did that before.”
“Do what?” Bobby asked, sitting up.
“Playing with your hair.”
“Well, I’m sure glad you did, it felt really good.” He answered and put his arms around her. Soon they were pressed into the sofa, mouths intent on exploring not just each other’ slips and tongues but also ears, necks, and especially Shawna’s chest.
Bobby traced a hand over her breast and she jerked away, remembering Lauren’s prediction that all he wanted to do was go all the way. She sat up.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I’m thirsty. Want a drink?” She got up and waited for Bobby to answer her question.
He sighed and rubbed his palms on his ripped jeans before answering.
“No, you go ahead.” he replied.
Shawna was quiet for a long moment. Her heart raced and her cheeks burned. She waited until both feelings subsided before going into the kitchen
She really didn’t want him to go but she didn’t want him to touch her like that, either. The only thing she could think of was to get up and get a drink. It was lame but it worked.
She poured some apple juice and downed the entire glass; it cooled her flushed mind and body. Shawna finally knew what the excitement about making out was all about. Some girls thought it was gross, like Lauren, for example. Now that Shawna had a boyfriend, she realized that being alone with Bobby wasn’t such a bad thing. Shawna loved the way Bobby’s hair felt sliding between her fingers. The heat of his breath warming the skin on her thighs made her want to make him stay there. Her breasts tingled when he got near them, too. She wasn’t sure she liked it because it was as if her body and skin felt things before her brain could tell her what was happening. That’s why she stopped, it was going too fast.

Part of her, however, wanted to keep going; she wanted Bobby to kiss and touch her neck and rub her back. The need to go back in there and let him do it was so intense; however, she just had to take a break and think it over. She knew that leaving the kitchen meant taking the next step and she looked over at the threshold leading into the living room, hoping that whatever she decided, it would be a good choice.
Draining her juice glass, Shawna wiped her lips with a napkin and threw it in the trash and headed for the living room.

by Ann Chiappetta | tags : | 0
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