** NOTE: The following was inspired by Saturday Night Live and a Playboy magazine.   Enjoy as best you can. **




For Ollie.   If you`re reading this, my debt to you is paid.

Thank you.

       I find it odd that, at least as far as I know, we learn the most about ourselves when we least expect to.   It`s rare that we solve our own greatest riddles amongst bouts of self-reflecting soul searching.   Yet some day someone says a single word, or you maybe think you spot something outside your patio window, that suddenly reveals to you a part of yourself that had until then remained always hidden.
       I had one such moment, about three years ago.   It wasn`t a singular moment, really, or if it was, it was a singular moment stretched out over an entire night.   It all started, when me, my husband and hid daughter were on our way back to our condo in Centwerp after attending my grandmother`s funeral.   It was early mid-afternoon and the sky was painted a most joyless gray, which combined with the wind more or less signaled that a cruel winter storm may be in the wings.   It was unanimously decided we should stop for the night -- my husband was tired, Adele was getting restless of the car, and I was a bit emotionally drained.   So we pulled into a cozy looking middle range hotel bearing the name Comfort Lodge that was conveniently located right off an interstate exit.   I had no idea what distant suburb of Centwerp we had landed in, nor did I care.   I was tired, and I was honestly ready to just pounce on a bed and pass out for a while.
       The first few snowflakes had started to fall as we pulled into the thirty minute parking lane just outside the hotel`s front door.   Rollin looked at me tentatively, as if expecting me to run into the lobby to check us in (and in actuality, I was closer to the lobby entrance).   It took me a few moments to notice his asking stare, and when I did I made a tentative bookmark out of my finger to keep the place in the book I was reading before taking one glance outside.   The large flecks of white snow were enough to convince me that I did not want to leave the warmth of the car unless it was to go straight to our room.   "I`m sorry, honey..." I said quietly, turning back to Rollin, "but   I`d rather not run out there.   You go do it."
       My husband grumbled something under his breath, but he obeyed my request.   I thought I heard Adele shifting in her seat, probably preparing some scathing comment about my laziness, but something silenced her.   Probably for the best, as I was in no mood to tangle with her.   I reopened my book and did my best to read the fine print, but the sun was almost completely blocked out by the gray clouds above.   It was just as well -- I hadn`t really absorbed a single word I`d read since we left the small graveyard where they put my grandmother to rest.   I just stared at the pages, letting the words run through my eyes and feeling them dully bounce against my brain.
       When Rollin returned, I dropped my book in my lap and fumbled through my purse for a cigarette.   As I was lighting it, Rollin stuck his head into the driver side door, dropped one of the room keys on the seat, and issued a clipped order for me to drive the car to the west side of the building and park it there.   I nodded and slid into the driver seat, and waited for Rollin to finish unloading our one suitcase before shifting the car into drive.
       After parking the car, I wrapped myself up in my long black coat and practically sprinted for the side door into the building.   I fiercely tugged the metal handle to the door, but the door didn`t yield an inch.   I started searching the numerous pockets of my coat for the keys my husband had given me, but my search proved fruitless, so I turned to Adele who was directly behind me.   She hardly looked ready for the weather, with her legs bare from the end of her short skirt to the top of her boots.   Even her leather jacket, slit in the back to allow freedom to her sprouting wings, seemed too flimsy for the biting cold.   It was a getup that not only seemed inappropriate for the weather, but seemed utterly unsuitable for the funeral. Yet, as if only to spite me, she stood there as still as a statue, looking completely unaffected by the cold.
       "Adele, could you grab the keys?   I think I left them on the driver seat."
       She huffed, of course, and rolled her eyes in that way that all teenage girls seemed so practiced at.   She walked back to the car, which was only   few strides away, and grabbed the keys from within, making sure to make a great dramatic production of it all.   I held my hand out to get the keys from her, but she marched right by me and to the door.   I felt a bubble of anger well up in my stomach, but I suppressed it.   As usual, Adele was trying to goad me, and I wasn`t going to give her the satisfaction.   Not today.
       I welcomed the warmth of the hotel hallway as we stepped through the door frame.   "What room are we in, Adele?"
       The girl looked at the number etched into the key indifferently.   "312."
       It actually wasn`t that long of a walk, just two floors up (I refused to wait for an elevator), but it was just one more obstacle that the world placed in my path to make this day as long and miserable as possible.   As we rounded the corner to our room, I noticed it was propped open slightly, meaning that Rollin had beaten us to the destination.   As I walked in, I was greeted with the sight of him already sitting on one of the two twin beds, leaning against the headboard, flipping through channels on the television quietly with the remote control.   I sighed and, without saying a word, started sorting out our suitcase.   There wasn`t much in there -- we were actually expecting to get back home tonight -- but I had packed enough clothing for everyone just in case we did end up retiring for the night somewhere.   For myself, I had a loose pair of jeans and a sturdy old t-shirt, and I couldn`t wait to change into them from my thoroughly uncomfortable black mourning dress.   I slipped into the bathroom to make the change and, in only a couple minutes, returned to the large, serviceable room of our hotel and plopped down on the other twin bed opposite my husband and Adele.
       One glance at the television revealed we were sitting through none other than another episode of "Weapons of War."   This meant that my husband had, in a move that shocked no one, taken up the remote control and immediately set it on one of the available educational channels.   This was a common practice at our home, and I actually grew quite sick of it.   "Honey.." I began protesting.   "You watch this all the time at home, do we really need to see it now?"
       "Oh, just leave me alone."   Rollin whined.   I actually didn`t feel like pursuing the matter any further, so I went back to where I had hung my coat and fished the book I had been reading earlier from one of the pockets.   It was actually a cheap romance bought at a gas station. It was the kind of book I normally loathed, but it had kept me company on the long car ride, and it seemed it would be my confidant again today.
       The tale was a frighteningly material one, a story of an artificially beautiful woman who had an oh-so terrible life, who was rescued and swept away by a dashing and gallant young man.   Still, I couldn`t help but be reminded of my Rollin and I when flipping through the pages, though I must admit that Rollin was neither dashing nor gallant, and while I suppose I was myself a pretty enough woman, when we first met poverty had made me too thin, and now the the luxuries of life had made me a bit plump in places that are better looked upon trim.   These parallels with the book were enough to entertain me for some time, time enough that I had no idea how long I had been reading when Adele stood back up from where she had been resting on her father, stretched noisily, and started sifting through our suitcase.
       "What are you after, Adele?" I asked.
       "I`m going swimming."   She reported.   She made it sound as if answering me was a great annoyance to her.
       I remembered that Adele had put her sole swimming clothes in the suitcase in the vague hopes we might end up staying somewhere.   She`d get her father to spring for a hotel with a pool.   She always did have Rollin wrapped around her finger. "You be careful not to leave too many feathers in the pool."   I said as I flipped to the next page of my book.   "I don`t want to hear from management."
       "I know, I know."   She muttered as she disappeared into the bathroom.   I read my book a while longer, and when Adele came back into the room I made sure to get a good look at her.   She was dressed in a rather skimpy two piece, a swimsuit I had tried my best to keep her from buying.   She had told me it was necessary, so as to give freedom to her fledgling wings, but I was insistent that a low back one piece would have done just as well, or at least a bikini that used more than shoestrings to attach itself to its owner.   Still, the girl was a stubborn as ever, and before I knew it I was paying far too much for a swimsuit I didn`t even want little Adele to be seen in public with.   Looking at her now, I realized she was a bit too close too that which men desired -- curves, breasts, and barely a lick of fat.   A flower defaced by a lack of subtlety.   Her sproutling wings, now only half the size they would be in time, gave her an added layer of exotic appeal.   It worried me a bit that she was going to the pool alone, almost like it worried me whenever she left the condo by herself.   But I wouldn`t say anything today, or I`d get the usual teenage rebuttals, and I was, frankly, not in the mood.
       She gathered her long, strawberry blonde hair into a ponytail and then flung a towel over her shoulder before waving goodbye to us.   "Seeya later, guys."   She said.   "If you want me, you know where to find me."   And with that, she disappeared out the door.
       After I heard the sound of the door closing behind her, I turned to my husband and frowned.   "You really are too easy on her, you know."
       Rollin looked to me, and a frown twisted his large face.   "What do you mean?"
       "Well..." I put my book down on the night stand between the two beds and sauntered over to where my husband was laying.   I put myself down next to him and twined my arms around him softly.   "...that swimsuit.   Honey, I`d really appreciate it if you`d take a stand with me on some of these issues."
       "What`s wrong with that swimsuit?"
       I sat up a bit and looked at Rollin with an expression akin to how I would look if he asked me what was wrong with murder.   "What`s wrong?   Rollin, that thing makes her look easy.   I don`t want her getting preyed on by some.."
       "Luriana..."   Rollin began.   His voice had a whiney tone to it that I always associated with him quite plainly not wanting to talk about a subject anymore.   "Girls will be girls.   If we try and control her, she`ll just do something more drastic to piss us off."
       I sighed and sunk my head till it was resting against his chest, docilely accepting the fact that the conversation was probably over.   With my face near my husband, his familiar scent of cheap cologne mixed with sweat.   It wouldn`t be considered a pleasant smell by most, but then most people also wouldn`t consider my Rollin a handsome man.   I loved that he was stout, I loved how his face was broader than normal, and I loved the scent of him.   Being this close to him as my mind was searching desperately for something pleasant to occupy it woke some yearnings in me.   I roped the arm that lying on top of Rollin to his head and tenderly brushed through his hair.
       "You know, Rollin.." I whispered softly. "It`s been a long while since we..."
       "Since we.. what?"
       I kissed his chest lightly.   "You know.   You`ve been gone a lot lately.   I really missed you.."
       "Luriana..."
       I kissed his chest again.   "Come on.   I miss you.   Can`t we..."
       Rollin shifted a bit and put a little separation between the two of us.   He gently grabbed my hand, dwarfing it in his huge palm, and held it to his chest, though I couldn`t help feeling that he was pushing me away rather than bringing me closer.   "I`m sorry, Luriana, but.. not right now.   I`m tired.   I mean, I could fall asleep right here.   And..."
       Despite myself, I couldn`t help but feel more than a little bit rejected as I wiggled a bit further away from my husband.   His eyes never seemed to leave the television screen.   So he had chosen the television, with its black and white footage of destruction, repeating like a broken record, over me.   It seemed the rule rather than the exception as of late.   "Oh, well.. I`m pretty tired myself.   Maybe we should just turn in for a nap."   It was only the afternoon, but I certainly felt like I could sleep for a day.
       "Yes..."   Rollin said.   He rolled over and sat up at the edge of the bed, where he could grab the plaid pants I had packed that he usually used for his night clothes.   I watched him change for a bit, and then remembered Adele, who was still at the swimming pool alone.   "Before we drift off to slumberland," I said, "I want to go check on Adele."
       Rollin sighed.   "Would you just relax?"
       "No."   I sat at the foot of the bed and put my shoes back on my feet.   "Rollin, we don`t know anybody here, and we just sent her to that little swimming pool dressed like an underage stripper."
       "But Luriana..."
       "No buts." I said, taking my turn at authority.   "Just lay in bed and watch your war shows.   Knowing you, you`ll be asleep again before I get back."
       WIth that, I stepped out of our cozy hotel room into the hallway outside.   Directly outside our third story room was a window that offered a wide view of the world just across the street of the Comfort Lodge, starring a tall hill covered with yellow grass whose natural splendor was spoiled by an eight lane interstate highway cutting through it.   The vision was slowly being obscure, however, as the large snowflakes that were falling from the sky started to fall heavier.   Already a thin sheet of snow was building on the ground below, and I was sure by the time I woke up from my planned nap that the world outside would be a perfect, unmolested blanket of snow.. except, of course, for that familiar highway stretching off towards Centwerp.
       I always did love the snow.   I wasn`t quite sure why.   In my younger days, snow was a complication, another obstacle to survival.   It was cold and unpleasant, and when surrounded by city buildings and the stench of civilization, it became filthy, cruddy, blackened, innocence made unclean.   On its way to the ground, however, snow was pure.   And when it was left to itself on the earth, it became an almost blinding spectacle of serenity.
       My thoughts on this calmed me, and I couldn`t help feeling a little less anxious as I navigated the maze of the hotel hallways until I found the swimming pool, which was on the first floor.   It was a pathetic little thing, maybe as large as the living room back in our condo, and only eight feet at its deepest point.   To my relief it was sparsely populated, with only a few children splashing about in the shallow end with their inflatable toys, all being watched over by hawk like mothers.   One glance at the deep end revealed little Adele swimming back and forth.   She didn`t seem to be taking much mirth in the water, but then again it was probably better, in her mind, than staying in the room and watching a never ending stream of war documentaries on the television with her father.   I have to admit, I agreed with her.
       I walked down the edge of the pool aways until I was nearly standing above where Adele was swimming.   She didn`t notice me for a couple of laps, and even then she waited a few minutes before she honored me with a reaction.   When she did choose to speak to me, she stopped swimming mid-stroke and started to tread water in the center of the deep end.   "Did you come to join me, Luriana?   The water`s fine."
       "No.   I just wanted to tell you your father and I are probably going to lay down for a spell.   We`re very tired.   I don`t want you to get off anywhere while we`re sleeping."
       "Fine, fine."   Her quick response probably worried me more than it did soothe me.
       "I mean it.   Stay out of trouble."
       "Don`t worry about me, Luriana."   Adele huffed, and without another word she continued her swimming.
       It`s her funeral. I thought to myself as I left the swimming room.   If the snow managed to calm me, than Adele had managed to rile me up a bit again.   To be honest, I was in no mood to sleep anymore, especially not with both Adele and Rollin acting like such shits.   A harmonic family indeed.

       I decided I`d just walk through the hotel to amuse myself in the meantime.   As I meandered around, it actually looked like I wasn`t in store for the most fascinating journey.   There was a small gift shop that sold overpriced candies and some disgusting saccharine greeting cards, a dining room that looked suitable to housing buffets and little else, and a small arcade that nearly blew my ears out with its loud blips and resounding booms (not to mention the little ones inside, squealing as they slammed on the buttons).   I was surprised, however,   when I turned a corner just past the lobby and was greeted with the sight of a little bar that was built right into the building.   The place looked like little more than a lounge, plastic and yuppie, but the smell of nicotine laced smoke reminded me that it had been some time since I smoked my last cigarette, and that a drag would probably be much more pleasant in a warm bar than it would be in the only other smoking zone available -- outside, in the frigid air.   Before I knew it, my feet were carrying me inside.
       I almost immediately regretted the decision -- the place was more fake than I had envisioned.   The place was an unforgivable eyesore in desperate need of a renovation, combining a short green and orange carpet with a gaudy, off white/cream color pain on the walls.   Glass tables were scattered about the room, each one graced either by elderly people who were probably young when this look might have been in style, or naive looking married couples who probably ended up here on some family function of their own.   I found myself wishing I were back in the rundown bar that my husband and I often frequented, and I really was not a fan of that place.
       I decided I would stay long enough for a smoke, and then I would return to my room and to the bed.   I managed to get a cigarette from my back pocket, found an empty table, and then lit the coffin nail tentatively, feeling the cursed itch of my addiction subside to the first deep breath of smoke.   I let the cigarette dangle from my lips as I leaned back and took a closer look at my surroundings -- there was a bar near the west wall.   Good, if I wanted a nightcap (or in this case, a late-afternoon-cap) to help me find sleep a little more easily.   At the front of the room was a lifted platform that was probably used for a stage.   Right now it was almost completely bare, except in one corner were a couple pieces of black equipment.   One looked like a speaker connected to a PA, the other a large keyboard.   hanging from the speaker was a piece of notebook paper, and scribbled on it, in black letters large enough for all to see, were the words "BE BACK SOON."
       Great.   Entertainment.   And by the look of things, we were all in for one hell of a show.   (And that, dear readers, should be interpreted as very thick sarcasm.)   Of course, even a small town lounge show would have to be more interesting than whatever it was my husband was watching, if only for novelty reasons, so I decided to stick around and give the show a chance.
       My patience was rewarded, for before I could even finish my first cigarette, two men walked on stage.   One was a small wiry man, almost completely bald, dressed in nothing more spectacular than a white shirt and some black slacks.   His appearance and his mannerisms reminded me of a very shy child, and as he sat behind they keyboard I was given the impression that he was trying not to be seen, to blend into his gaudy surroundings like a chameleon.
       If the keyboard player was unremarkable, than his partner in crime easily made up for it.   The second man who walked out had such a swagger in his step so pronounced that couldn`t help but look.   His head of hair, thin and frizzled, seemed to stretch off everywhere, held up in a way that only thick hairspray   and a touch of insanity could achieve.   Completing his look was a polyester suit in the most horrible shade of brown.   Whereas one could effortlessly avoid looking towards the keyboardist, this second star, who took up a microphone, seemed to demand attention, and one simply couldn`t look away, almost like passing a car accident.
       "Hello, Ladies and Gentlemen, and welcome... to the beautiful Comfort Lodge!   My name is Murray, and I`ll be your entertainment today.. no, no.. please, hold the applause!   Hold the applause, ladies and gentlemen."
       Nobody was clapping.   Murray must have been doing an excellent job of keeping everyone`s excitement in line.
       "Winter is on its way, Ladies and Gentlemen..." The shy looking keyboardist plunked a few keys down, and the large speaker emitted a soothing little melody that acted as a backdrop for Murray`s asinine monologue.   "...and you know, when winter`s on its way, it makes me think of... well, it makes me think of the season, Ladies and Gentlemen..."   The lounge singer Murray stepped off the raised platform and walked to the table nearest him before he started to belt out a tune.   "I`m... dreaming.. of a white.. Raineremas!"
       He was awful.   I found the whole sight so despicable that I couldn`t look away.   In fact, I decided I had to get a drink to better enjoy the show.   Trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, I snaked my way over to the bar, ordered a glass of Roan bourbon on the rocks, and after getting my drink and tipping the bartender I sat back down at my table and watched the tragedy that was Murray the Lounge Singer continue.   As Murray finished his opening song, he drifted ungracefully towards a table about two strides away from mine.   Seated there was a couple, the first a pretty woman who looked thoroughly angry, the other a well dressed man who looked like he was thoroughly lost, and also that he wanted to be anywhere at that moment but in that room.
       "Well, what do we have here?"   Murray asked.   He leaned against the table and brought his face down far enough that the microphone was within speaking distance of the lady seated there.   "You two look awfully cute.   What`s your names?"
       "Rayne."   The woman said.   When spoken, her monosyllabic title was short and clipped.
       "And you?"   Murray asked, leaning the microphone towards the lost looking man.
       "Umm... Neil."
       "Neil and Rayne, how nice.   And what exactly brings you two to our cozy little lounge this fine evening."
       The woman crossed her arms beneath her breasts and turned away from the microphone.   The man looked around him, desperately seeking escape.
       "Well, well well.   What`s this?"   Murray said.   As he spoke, he turned around to look at everyone else in the room, plastering the most ridiculous expression on his face.   "Looks like the honeymoon is over, ladies and gentlemen."
       "Actually..." The woman said, leaning forward to make sure she could be heard in the microphone.   "This is supposed to be our honeymoon."
       "Oh, no, my dear.   Is your wondrous new husband not living up to your expectations?"
       "Look at this place."   The woman snorted.   She banged her glass against the countertop, and the poor fellow sitting next to her visible jumped at the loud clang.   "Does this look like the kind of place a man should take her newlywed sweetheart?   Well?   Does it?"
       "Oh, ho ho... looks like you`ve got your hands full, Neil."   Murray said, winking at the man at the table.   And, sensing that he was probably treading in dangerous waters, Murray moved on towards the middle of the floor and started, out of nowhere, his next song, which was a rendition of some Seltaeb`s song that was probably better left alone.   I just lit another cigarette and followed along in blissful stupidity.
       About halfway through the song, I was surprised to find myself joined by another individual.   He stood at the side of my table and, after getting my attention, asked with a grin if the seat was taken.   Before I even had a chance to answer him, he pulled a seat down and plopped into it and then started looking at me as if though I were some long lost lover of his.
       "Do I know you?" I asked.
       "No, I don`t think so, but I was hoping we could fix that."   He grinned more broadly.
       I arched an eyebrow in doubt and tapped some ash free from the end of my cigarette.   "Excuse me?"
       "My name is Deuce."   He said.   He smiled even broader yet, so that I was sure his face might split in two.   To be honest, he was actually quite a handsome man, even to my unorthodox tastes.   He was tall and well built, with a thick head of blonde hair and eyes that were somewhere between blue and gray.   He had a variety of features that seemed to be molded from clay towards the typical stereotype of what some women find attractive -- a strong chin, a thick neck, a barreled chest, and of course a winning smile.   But the smile seemed fake from where I was sitting, almost like he was painting it on.
       "Luriana." I replied to him, nodding my head a bit.   I thought about turning the guy away right away, but I took another sip of my cigarette and decided to give him a chance, if only to entertain myself.
       "Well, here`s the deal Luriana."   Deuce began.   "I was sitting over by the bar when you came in, and I watched you sit down here at this table, and I must be honest with you, the sight was almost enough to break my heart."
       "Oh really?"   I asked sarcastically.   I think the effect was lost on him.
       "Really.   What is a beautiful woman like yourself doing sitting all by yourself?"
       I blinked.   "Are you.. for real?"
       I think he once again misinterpreted my meaning, because his grin never wavered.   "You better believe it.   I thought maybe we could go somewhere else, somewhere a bit quieter, and maybe get to know each other a little better.   You know, I have a few bottles of fifteen year old Doman wine.. that`s a bit hard to find these days, you understand."
       I was speechless.
       "I`m in room 313."   He said.   He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, one of which he detached from the key ring.   He slid the freed key towards me, across the table.   "I think I`ll just leave right now, and you can stop by if you`d..."
       "And what do we have HERE?"   The sound of Murray boomed through the PA, and it wasn`t until then that I noticed the lounge singer had drawn near my table.   "Another cute little couple.   Tell me, what are your names?"
       "Deuce."   My companion said quickly, and without hesitation.
       I paused to finish my cigarette before I spoke into the mic.   "Luriana."        
       "That`s a beautiful name, little miss."   Murray said, bowing his ridiculous head a bit in regard of me.   "And what do you all do for a living?"
       "I`m a housewife." I said, being sure to look at Deuce as I stressed the word "wife."   Apparently this message was potent enough to get through his big skull, as he visibly paled at my words.
       "And you sir?"   Murray said, shifting the microphone towards Deuce.
       "I`m.. uhh.. I was just leaving, actually.   Not feeling so well, actually... ha ha..."   He stood up from his seat, pushed the chair back in, and almost tripped over himself as he hastily walked away.   I couldn`t help but grin.
       "Well, it looks like your friend just left."   Murray said, forcing a chuckle.
       "I think you scared him away, Murray!"   I exclaimed, trying to match his melodrama.
       The lounge singer actually laughed, but he decided his performance at my particular table was probably over and so he started to step away as he prepared a monologue to lead him into his next song.   "You know, a scene like that reminds me of..."
       I laughed, shook my head, drained the last of my drink, and decided it was finally time for me to leave.   As I was leaving, I noticed the poor young man, Neil, getting absolutely reamed by his newlywed wife near the door.   His desperate eyes   locked with mine for a brief moment, and the stare he gave me was absolutely begging for a merciful death.   I smiled a bit -- he was actually quite a handsome man, and suited to my tastes a bit, though a little young -- and I sympathized with him for whatever twist of fate had landed him with this shrew of a woman.
       I felt my spirits lift a little bit, and I started the journey back towards my room.   On my way I walked through the lobby and was stopped when I spotted a television playing back an episode of my favorite show, a TV drama about a broke kid living in poverty in Scande, doing his best to get by as a musician.   It was half way through an hour episode, and I found myself dawdling about until the episode was over, never actually sitting down on one of the numerous pieces of furniture strewn around the television.   By the time I finally left, a glance out a nearby window showed that the sun was fast disappearing and night would soon take the place of day.   The snow was falling harder now, and the appearance of a brisk wind assured me that we had made the right choice in staying in a hotel for the night.

       I was nearly to a stairwell that would take me up to the third floor when I heard a loud thump on the wall next to me.   I jumped a bit at the sound and looked at the wall queerly, wondering for a moment if the knock had been meant for me, and then realizing that the wall that had emitted the sound was a wall that did not border a room, but in fact was one of the outside walls of the building.   I started to push the memory of the sound to the back of my head when another thump, this one louder and more violent than the first, resounded against the barrier, and after that I thought I could make out the sounds of muted shouting.   Curious, I strode over to one of the nearby windows in hopes of getting a better look at what was banging against the building.   The snow was coming down hard now, making it difficult to see anything even directly outside the building, but I thought I could make a few muted shapes out in the white blizzard.   It looked at first like three men, and then one of those three men knelt down and picked up a fourth who had been laying in the snow.   After this fourth man was back on his feet, the three men pushed him (with enough violence to make me cringe) into the wall, where he hit with yet another thud.
       Now, perhaps, would be a good time to mention that I`m a little headstrong.   Because you see, dear readers, instead of doing the smart thing and looking for help, I decided to venture out into the cold blizzard on my own, with nothing more than my jeans and my t-shirt to protect me from the elements, to get to the bottom of this flagrant public beating.   I burst out of the first door I could find, which was unfortunately just a few yards away (for if it had been further away, I might have had more time to come to a more sensible decision), and immediately started to jog towards the beating.   I felt excited as I stepped lightly through the snow, so much that I noticed the satisfying crunch of the fresh snow under my feet more than the severely cold weather that was already biting at my skin.
       The three men didn`t notice me until I was nearly close enough to talk to them, and when they did they turned away from their prey (whom they had no begun taking turns kicking as he laid out in the snow) and sneered at me.   Actually, these weren`t even men, they were little more than boys.   One was quite short and stalky, another a head taller than me and gangly, and the third was a regular butterball of a kid who couldn`t have been older than Adele.   The shortest kid, ironically, must have been their leader, because he stepped in front of the other two as I drew near.
       I placed my hands on my hips and frowned, trying to look like an authoritative figure.   "What do you kids think you`re doing?"
       The short kid smiled.   I realized that these three well dressed youths outnumbered me three to one, and that I had every reason to be scared, but the face of this short child, awkward and freckled with acne, did not exactly inspire fear.   Still, he did his best to sound older than he was.   "What are you doing out here, pretty?"   He said with a slight lisp.   "This isn`t the best weather to be running around like that."
       I gestured towards the man writhing on the snow laden ground.   This close I could tell he was actually an older man   "I`m out here to find what you`re doing to that poor man there.   Did he do something to you three gentlemen that warrants this?"
       "No..."   The boy said snidely.   I couldn`t help but noticed that the cold had gotten his nose running, and he was in desperate need of a kleenex because of it.   "We don`t need no good reason to pick on the old man here.   And we don`t need no reason to pick on you either, pretty."
       The three boys smiled, though the little fat one looked a bit nervous, and the short one started to jump towards me.   Quickly (it was more of a reaction than a prepared blow) my hand lanced out and crushed his face.   My palm connected with his nose, and I felt the satisfying crunch of something breaking beneath it.   He fell back squealing like the child he was.   In the meantime, the porky kid fell back a step, obviously smitten by the sight of a thirty-something woman knocking a surly little kid to the ground in one blow.   The tall one was still on me, however, but he was so uncoordinated (not to mention unpracticed) that I was able to throw him over my shoulder and on to the earth without any real effort.
       Unsurprisingly, when the three boys recovered, they were in a panic.   I continued to stand before them, hands planted at my sides, doing my best to look like some kind of demi-god.   Whether it was my overbearing presence or the blood spurting from the leader kid`s nose, the three unanimously decided that a second attack might not be worth the effort, and cowardly ran away from me without the need of further bludgeoning.     Satisfied that I had nothing more to worry about from that little juvenile gang, I started helping the elderly man, who had been struggling to his hands and knees during the quick tussle, to his feet.
       "You okay, sir?"
       The man coughed as he brought himself to near his full height, using my offered arm for support.   He looked to me, and through the snow I could see a face that, despite the beating its owner had just received, looked genuinely happy.   It was an old man, with uncountable wrinkles and a big saintly beard.   He grinned and nodded stiffly.   "Where did you learn to fight like that?"
       "Growing up on the streets."   I smirked.   The adrenaline in my system was wearing off now, however, and the cold of the outdoors that I had avoided so adamantly earlier that day started to soak into my skin.   "Are you okay?"
       "Oh, sure, I`ll live.   I`ve tussled with those three before."   He took a few steps experimentally, and it seemed he could indeed walk on his own.
       The wind refreshed itself, blowing twice as hard now as it had just moments ago, and the resulting cold made me anxious to get back indoors.   "Well, sir..." I said, hugging myself tightly.   "Sorry to make things so abrupt, but I really need to..."   The words died on my tongue as I realized my fatal error.   "Shit."   I whispered.
       "What`s that, dear?"   The old man said, a look of genuine concern washing away his happy countenance.
       "I forgot my key."   I said, patting my pockets a few times just to be sure.   I realized, dumbfounded, that I would have to walk all the way to the front door of the lobby to get back inside.   As luck would have it, I was on the opposite end of the building.   "Well, I better start jogging..."
       "Oh, please miss, if it`s not too much trouble... I would like you just to come with me.   I have a little place just a ways from here, I do, and you can stay there and warm yourself up until this wind dies down a little."
       "Oh, that won`t be necessary."   I said, waving his offer off with my cold, cold hand and doing my best to smile convincingly.   "It`s really not that long a walk..."
       "You`ll suffer."   The old man sighed.   "I can get you a coat too.   Come, now, it`s the least I can do to repay your kindness to me."
       My brain was, of course, telling me how bad an idea it would be to follow this little old man, a perfect stranger, to some equally strange place.   But, my dear readers, I must now admit that there was something about the man that my mediocre talents in writing cannot convey, some saintliness to his face, a hint of wisdom to his voice, that told me I could trust him.     That, and I was certain that if I stayed outside for another moment in my condition that I was going to become a Luriana-sicle.   So when the man renewed his asking glance, I finally nodded.
       He turned away and started to jog towards a nearby building.   He moved surprisingly fast for an old man who just gotten the tar knocked out of him -- I actually had to work to keep up.   His destination, apparently, was a garage building that looked like it was made to hold trucks and other heavy machinery -- it was covered with aluminum   and didn`t look the least bit appetizing.   I was starting to wonder if it wouldn`t have actually been a short walk after all to just go back to the hotel lobby when we came to a pair of closed cellar doors adjacent to the building that were still being covered with snow.   The old man leaned over to open them, and I was beginning to think this wasn`t such a good idea after all, until he finished opening the doors and I was immediately taken by a blast of warm air.   Now presented with the options of following this old man into the dark basement of a dark, murky, and oh-so-warm garage, or walking back to the Comfort Lodge in the unbearable cold, I decided once again to continue taking my chances with the irresistible old man.
       Things only got curiouser and curiouser as we descended down the steep, wooden stairs into the stony depths of the basement.   I had deduced that this man probably was a homeless fellow who had made an arrangement with a compassionate land owner to sleep in this cellar.   But when we finally finished descending the stairs, I was surprised to hear soft music drifting from behind the thin, beat up door that was hiding the rest of the basement.   The old man reached forward with his bony hand unlocked the door with a key that looked as brittle as the door.   He then turned the doorknob, stepping to one side as the door opened in order to give me a "ladies first" entrance, and I was graced with a look at the interior to this man`s home.
       Upon entering, so far as I could see, there were merely two rooms to this makeshift home and one of them housed the equipment for heating the garage (probably explaining why the place was so toasty).   The "entrance" room, however, was completely furnished, though chaotically so.   There was no carpet, no wallpaper -- the walls were bare, in fact, prominently displaying their stoney gray color.   But the room, which was no larger than our hotel room at the Comfort Lodge, was littered with a wide spectrum of unrelated items -- a music box, a chipped mahogany desk, a refrigerator, a couple of bookshelves crammed with books, a handmade quilt, an old tape deck connected to a couple of huge speakers (one of which looked blown), a guitar, and a variety of other scattered knick-knacks and assorted items.   There was no rhyme or reason to match any of them, but they all looked especially fine, far too fine for a homeless man.
       "Admiring my collection?"   The old man chuckled, as he hobbled towards a cushy looking leather covered office chair.
       I was understandably speechless.   Of course, now that I was warm and safe again, sense had returned to me and I realized fully that I was in a strange place with a strange old man.   How, exactly, does one start a conversation in this predicament? Actually, I decided on a pretty good start -- I had no idea what his name was!   I posed the question, and he chuckled that old grandpa chuckle again.   "My name is Oliver, but most people call me Ollie."   He looked like he was going to sit down, but he then looked towards the heater room as if remembering something.   "Are you hungry?"
       Despite the oddity of the situation, I didn`t feel as strange as I thought I should.   Still, I didn`t want to impose.   "Oh, don`t worry about it.. I won`t keep you long.   If I could just borrow a coat and leave..."
       "Nonsense, nonsense, nonsense.. you`re chilled to the bone, just like me."   The old man stroked his beard and shook the last of melting snow free from its hairs.   "I`ve actually got something cooking.   I don`t know if you like it... rice and broccoli, that is.. but it`s hot, and you look like you could use it.   I`d get you some clothes too.. dry ones.. but I don`t think I have anything that will fit you."
       "Don`t worry about it, really.   You`ve already been too kind."
       "Nonsense, nonsense."   The man smiled again and smacked his wiry hands against the back of the office chair.   "Sit down and stay a while."
       The elderly man`s overpowering appeal won me over once again, and before I knew it I was seated in that chair, which I had to admit was incredibly comfortable.   The old man, however, retreated back into the heating room, and left to myself I found I was so weary I probably could have dozed off then and there.   After coming within a tiptoe`s distance of slumberland, I was brought to my senses again as the old man hollered a question from where he was cooking.   "So, what brings you here?"
       I felt unsure if I should share too much with the old man, but I had decided by now that there wasn`t a more harmless living thing in the whole of the Web of Worlds, so after a slight hesitation I answered him.   "Sadly, we stopped here on our way back from a funeral."
       "A funeral?   I`m sorry to hear that.   Someone close to you?"
       The snow on my clothes had melted and was now evaporating off my skin -- it sent a peculiar chill through my skin, and I closed my knees to my chest in an effort to ignore it. "Not really.. I suppose.   It was my grandmother."
       "Your grandmother?"   As he spoke, Ollie`s voice seemed to grow louder, as if he was drawing closer.   Then he suddenly appeared before me and offered me a bowl that was steaming prolifically. I took it, half surprised to find that the contents smelled not only edible, but appetizing.   "You weren`t close to your grandmother?   That`s a pity, a pity.   I never knew my grandmother.   I would have liked to, though.   Heard she was a hell of a woman.   Wrestled bears, things like that."   As he finished speaking, he retreated back into the heater room, probably to get his own food.   I took a tentative taste of my bowl by dipping the spoon into it and licking it.   It was well seasoned, and without another thought I started to shovel spoonfuls into my mouth.   I hadn`t eaten since I had that microwave burger at a gas stop in the same town where my grandma`s funeral was.   This simple concoction of broccoli and rice beat that awful thing hands down.
       For some reason, I felt compelled to continue speaking however, and as the elderly man returned with his food I spoke again.   "Well, I didn`t have the chance to meet her often."   I explained.   "So I never got to know her that well."
       "Ah, but how can that be?"   There were no other chairs present, but Ollie made himself comfortable by leaning against the large, solid desk that was pressed against the west wall.   "If I was a grandparent, I`d see my children often all right.   I`d demand to see them, every day or so at the very least, and I`d spoil them rotten."
       "Well... she was my father`s mother."   I blew on the hot rice to cool it off a little, and swallowed the bite before I continued.   "And my father went off to the Great War while I was very young.   My mother passed away without him knowing..."
       "Ah, so that`s how it came you grew up on the streets?"
       I nodded.
       "Well, you look fine for it."   Ollie winked.   "You`re a very pretty lady, for all you`ve been through, I must say, if you don`t mind the compliments of a man at least twice your age."
       I laughed softly.   "No, I`m very flattered Oliver."
       "Call me Ollie, little lady.   Though here I am with half your life story, and I don`t even know your name.   What do they call you, miss?"
       "Luriana."
       "Luriana.   A fine name.   Reminds me of a song.   Or a poem.   I can`t say which exactly."   The old man took a large spoonful of rice into his mouth.   "Well, I`m sorry it`s such a sad affair that brings you to this little corner of the Web of Worlds, I really am.   But you bring an inspiring tale, and I do enjoy a good story."
       "I`d hardly call it a good story.   I`d hardly call it a story at all."
       "Ah.   Well, you can tell me more of it, if you want."
       "I`m really not much of a storyteller."
       Ollie smiled that timeless smile and pointed his spoon at me.   A fleck of rice fell off of it unceremoniously.     "You`ve made a curious badger of me now, miss Luriana, and I won`t let you go anywhere until you`ve told me a little about yourself.   I`m an old man, without enough friends, so you`ll have to excuse me if I wring my guests for all their worth, you`ll have to."
       I grinned.   "I`ll do my best."
       "Ah.   Well, what then, of your father?   A good girl should never be without her father.   Did he die at war?"
       "No, he lived.   Though by the time he came back, I was nowhere near where I had grown up.   We didn`t find each other for a while, though I don`t think that he looked too hard when he came home."
       "Oh, yes?   So you`ve met each other since?"
       "Briefly.   I found him after I got married."
       "Married!"   Ollie chuckled, as if it was a delightful surprise.   "So you are blessed in marriage!   Ah, that`s great, truly great.   Any children?"
       "Yes.. well.. no, not really."
       "What?"
       "Well, my husband has a child, from a previous affair."   I admitted solemnly.   "A girl, she`s about sixteen now, though she might not even be her daughter."
       "Oh really?   How come you say that?"
       "Her wings."   I said, pantomiming their presence with my hand.   "She has two wings.   The affair was with a Winlan actress, and empty headed seductress you see and.. well, she`s growing quite a set of wings, and those are getting rarer among full-blooded Winlanese, I find it hard to believe that if poor Adele were only a half breed that she`d have such magnificent appendages."
       "Ah.   For shame.   But still you care for her?"
       I smiled.   "She`s not my daughter, and I`m not her mother.   But I care for her as much as I can.   Rollin seems to love her plenty."
       "Rollin is your husband?"
       "Yes."
       "Ah.   So the whole family is here then?"
       "Yes."
       "They may be worrying about you.   Perhaps, perhaps I should let you go after all."
       Suddenly, it was I who felt compelled to stay.   "No, it`s quite all right.   Rollin is by now fast asleep, and Adele.. well, she`ll not worry for me, and she`ll keep herself busy well enough, though I should check on her later."
       "Oh.   Delightful then.   Your life is rather interesting."
       "You think so?"
       "I certainly do."
       "I never thought it so."
       "Really?   Well, it is.   So you became married.   That is good.   And what.. what since then?"
       "What.. do you mean?"
       "What have you done since then?   You`re life has been full of tragedy, but it has been a fascinating life to witness.   I would think you happy now, but your eyes are still full of sadness.   There must be more to your life, to tell."
       "Well, I did put my grandmother to rest today."
       "But you said you were not that close to her.   Her death must have effected you somehow.   You`re quite the solemn creature, right now."
       "You`re very observant for a man who lives under a garage."
       Ollie grinned broadly.   "I have my hobbies.   I`m a good listener.   You learn to be when you value company as much as I do."
       "There are other reasons to be sad, I suppose.   It`s been a long day.   And a funeral is kind of a downer."   And my husband seems utterly uninterested in me.   But I wasn`t about to mention that to poor old Ollie.
       "Was your father at the funeral?"
       "Well, sure."
       "How was he?"
       I shrugged.   "Fine, I guess."
       "Did you talk to him?"
       "We had an exchange.   He seemed preoccupied."
       "Preoccupied?   With what?"
       "His mother passed away."
       "He was close to his mother?"
       I tilted my head and looked at Ollie questioningly.   "What is this, twenty questions?   Because you`re about out, if my count is on."   Ollie only continued to smile, and my resolve vanished.   Sighing, I continued.   "Father was close to his mother, I guess.   I mean.. he cried.   It`s weird.   I`d never seen him cry before.   Not even when we would talk about mom.   I didn`t think he could cry."
       "Every boy cries for his mother.   I cried for mine, Gods rest her soul."
       "I guess.   He also told me he wished I knew more of her.   I always used to write her letters, and he said she always enjoyed them very much.   He said she would keep them around, show them off to friends, and always anxiously await the next one.   I guess... that makes me feel a bit guilty about never seeing her.   But I had no idea she valued my letters so much.   I just sent her a few when I got bored.   Dad too."
       "Ah.   You have a talent for writing letters?"
       "Not really.   Unless you`re my grandma."
       "Oh.   Shame.   Shame."
       "Well.. I guess it`s been on my mind. Or not.   I`ve been trying not to think about it."   I looked at Ollie, amused.   "Though I guess that`s not working now."
       "Sorry if I`m drudging up these awful thoughts, I`m sorry."   Ollie said, bowing slightly.
       "No, it`s okay."   I sighed.   "I think I needed someone to talk to.   My husband hasn`t exactly been the best company lately, and..." I abruptly laughed.   "Look at me, Ollie, you`ve practically gotten my life story."
       "Yes.   Except, I still don`t know what you`ve been doing since you got married."
       "What?   Oh, nothing.   We`re pretty well off financially -- my husband, he`s a stockbroker back in Centwerp, so I`m not in need, and so I`ve never had to work or anything..."
       "So you just.. what?   What do you do all day?"
       "All day?"   I thought.   Well, nothing. That was the truth, but I was stubborn and prideful enough that I didn`t want to admit it.   But it seemed like I could hide very little from this elderly man.   "Nothing."   I finally said.
       "Well, that`s sad.   That`s awfully sad.   Your story isn`t so interesting any more."
       "You think so?"
       "I do.   Certainly I do."
       "Well..."   It was true, but... well, there is that piece in all of us, dear readers, that would rather not fess up to our worst faults.   But I`ll ignore that part now, and tell you plainly that it is true I became a lazy thing since marrying Rollin.   The energy, the freedom, of poverty and the constant struggle to survive, the days of my youth, these I associate with misery, but sometimes with happiness.   I am happy with Rollin, I always had been, but it was a comfortable yet unfulfilling existence I had fallen into.   I felt now that my husband was disenchanted with me while I was stuck raising a child that wasn`t really my own, and myself not even able to have any children (though I honestly never wanted a stinkpot of my own).   But none of this I said to Ollie.   I merely sat in silence, which perhaps spoke the truth of my life just as loudly as my words would have.
       "Sounds like your stuck."   Oliver finally said, breaking the silence.
       "Well.."   Again, I fell into a lapse of silence.
       "Do you see all this stuff in here, sweet Luriana?"
       "Well, yes."
       "Do you know where it came from?"
       The question had come to mind, but Ollie seemed to have done an excellent job of keeping the conversation focused on me up until now.   "No, I have no idea."
       "My daddy died when I was right young, you see, a lot like your mother, `cept I didn`t have a mother, least not that I knew of.   I cried for her anyways.   Well, my daddy, he always taught me as best he could.   He knew he was going to die and leave me all alone without anything, but he did his best to prepare me for this hard life.   My daddy believed that we are all masters of ourselves, and that you should always treat others like you want to be treated.   My dad said that if I remain determined and strong and pleasant, that I could get through anything.   So when I see someone in need, do you know what I do, miss Luriana?"
       "..you help them?"
       "Exactly.   And all I ask them for in return is something in their power -- something in exchange that is of no great cost to them... but which is considered endlessly valuable to those without the talent."
       "I don`t understand.   You`re saying you got all of this.. through favors?"
       "Not merely favors."   Ollie pointed out.   "Exchanges.   A favor for your trade.   I`ve helped craftsmen and musicians, artists and tinkers, just by wandering about and offering a hand where I could.   You`d be amazed what such artisans will offer you in return for simple favors.   Well, look around you for instance.   None of this was bought with money."
       "I.. don`t understand."
       "Well, miss Luriana, it`s about your bill, you see.   Because you may have saved me a few bruises from a few bored thugs, but I`ve given you warmth, food, and company.   And I`ll give you a coat to get back to your room.   So I say you still owe me something.   I`d like a favor.   But it sounds like you don`t have a trade to offer me."
       I was nearly struck speechless by this demand.   Nearly.   "I`m sorry, Ollie, but I don`t know that I   have anything great to offer you.. I`m a woman without any real talents..."
       "Your grandmother seemed to like your letters well enough."
       "You want.. letters?"
       "Well, that`d be nice."   Ollie said, considering.   "But maybe something a bit more.   Maybe you have more talent with the pen than you give yourself credit for.   I`d maybe like you to give me a book, or at least a story.   You have such nice stories to tell."
       "A Book?"   I said incredulously.   "You can`t possibly be serious."
       "Oh, but I am."   Ollie chuckled.   "You must have something in you.   Grandmothers don`t get that excited over letters.   Trust me, old women are fickle things, the whole lot of them, every single one.   You must have some magic in your hands, miss Luriana, for a grandmother who has so rarely seen you to love you so."
       "But.."
       "And you could do it for her too.   She`d enjoy it a whole lot, from wherever she is right now, hopefully resting just fine,   I`m sure."
       "I..."
       "There was another saying my daddy always told me, miss Luriana.   It was like this: "Men at some time are masters of their fate."   The same is true for women too, I`m guessing.   Or you, specifically.   I`ve gotten as far as I have believing that.   But you, you don`t need to live this life of mediocrity you`re living.   You`re capable of more.   And you`re not even trying?   For shame, Luriana.   For shame."
       I felt guilty now, like a child being chastised by a parent.   Likewise, when I looked on old Ollie, I couldn`t help but think of how much I wanted to please him.   I felt that angering him would be like injuring myself.   So I nodded, did my best to smile, and made him a promise:
       "I`ll write you, Ollie.   And I`ll take my turn at a keyboard.   I`m not promising any smashing successes... but I`ll do my best."
       It felt good to say that.   Ollie`s smile returned in earnest as I made this pledge, and he nodded as though I lived up to his expectations, expectations he had always been sure I would step up to.  
       Miraculously, after this promise was made, our conversation managed to shift towards other topics.   The old man finally imparted a few stories of his past, including a few amusing anecdotes on how he acquired some of the more interesting items in his menagerie.     To be honest, I could fill a book with them, and maybe some day I will.   It must have been at least an hour, probably more, before I finally felt at liberty to leave poor Ollie alone to his underground home.   He gave me a coat as promised, a long black trench coat that was a little worn but surprisingly sturdy, and I promised him he`d hear of me again.   I gave the man one kiss on the cheek before I left back into the chilly outside world, my head full of speculation and amusement.

       The world outside had grown quite dark while I was visiting with my new friend, and the heavy winds had not changed, or if anything they had grown more heavy.   But the cold did not seem to touch me as I trudged through the snow blanketed earth towards the front door to the hotel.   As I entered, I brushed the snow that had clung to my coat off and on to the muddy welcome mat and then started up the nearest staircase to get back to my room.   About two steps up, I remembered that I had meant to check on Adele.   I hadn`t seen her for a couple of hours, so she might actually be back upstairs with her father by now.   Still, it would be better for me to check the pool now rather than later.   Luckily, the pool was right down the hall from the lobby, so it would be a short walk.
       On the way to the pool room I passed by the lounge, and I couldn`t help but slow my steps a bit to perhaps hear Murray`s latest method of making himself out to be an ass.   I was disappointed to find that neither the sounds of a keyboard nor a crooning middle aged man could be heard from within the smoky hall.   I continued on my way, but immediately stopped again in mid-step when I thought I heard a very familiar sound.   I backed up a bit, practically straining my ears, trying to hear that same sound again.   I had nearly dismissed it as my imagination when suddenly it sounded again.   A laugh.   A shrill sound that pierced my temples and made my brain rattle in its skull.   The laugh of someone too young and too naive to be in that smoky lounge.   The laugh of Adele.
       I stalked into the lounge like a predatory tiger -- the look in my eyes must have been intimidating, because the two people closest to the door seemed to jump at my entrance.   My eyes scanned through the smoke at the lounge`s numerous customers, hunting out that   one singular trespasser whom I knew was present, without a shadow of doubt.   It didn`t take much searching, because she was the only person in the entire lounge with wings protruding from their back, and nevermind that she was seated with an older while wearing nothing more than her flimsy bikini top and a towel wrapped around her bottom.
       I stormed over to where she was seated with such energy that no one who saw me could ignore me.   Adele`s back was facing me, so for the time being she was spared the harbinger of my wrath.   The man she was speaking to spotted me though, and I got a better look at him now.   I felt the anger in my swell even larger as I stared down at that smug face: it was the man who called himself "Deuce", the same lecher who had tried his hand at me earlier that day.
       "Can I help you, beautiful?" He asked.
       Adele had been laughing like a bubble-headed floozy up until she noticed Deuce wasn`t looking at her anymore.   Curious to see who or what was stealing her spotlight, Adele looked up over her shoulder.   When she saw me, she leapt up to feet in a flash, almost like someone had lit a U-Bomb underneath her cute little behind.   "Luriana!" She exclaimed.
       "Do you two know each other?"   Deuce asked, smiling broadly.   "Sisters, maybe?"
       I turned my eyes back down to Deuce.   I tried to will him dead, hoping that if I stared hard enough I might bore holes into his head.   He shrank away into his seat a bit.   "Leave." I said simply.
       "Excuse me, ma`am."   Deuce said, bowing slightly.   There was a hint of nervousness to his tone that he was trying to hide.   "But this is an open lounge, and I don`t think that you..."
       "Leave." I repeated.   The mold of my voice was loud and commanding, the tone of parenthood, and a voice that had lost its effect on Adele years ago.   However, it seemed to break the last of Deuce`s lingering will, and he retreated out of the lounge without saying another word.   I was happy to see him go, both because his presence was annoying, and now because I could focus all of my anger on to Adele.
       "What do you think you`re doing here."   I said, and I looked her up and down.   "Especially dressed like that."
       She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and rolled her head to one side -- all of it a practiced routine designed to irritate me.   "Don`t make such a big deal out of it, Luriana.   I checked on dad, and he was just laying in bed watching his documentaries.. which are boring.. so I came down here to.."
       "You shouldn`t have been in here."   I growled.
       "Oh, come on, Luriana, it`s an open lounge!   Anyone can come in here.."
       "And make eyes with a man twice your age?" I demanded, throwing my hand behind me.   "I can`t STAND it when you make such a tramp of yourself."
       "Oh, who asked you?   I was doing fine.   I can do what I want."
       My fists were clenched so tightly that my knuckles were a pale white.   She was goading me, but I wasn`t going to give her the satisfaction.   I wasn`t going to let her win.   "No, you can`t.   Adele, as long as you live with your father and I, you will have to adhere to our rules, and we expect you to make more of yourself than a flirty, empty headed..."
       "Look who`s talking!"   Adele said, suddenly screaming.   "Who do you think you are?   My mother!?"
       I slapped her.   It wasn`t a gentle slap, or even a slap meant to shut her up.   The force of the blow nearly knocked her over so that she had to catch herself on a nearby table to keep from falling.   It would probably leave a bruise.
       I had crossed the line.   But so had she.   Still, pangs of guilt screwed my face up almost immediately, and I wished I could take it back.   I could feel the weight of all the other eyes in the room upon me -- we had taken center stage.   Adele stood motionless, her injured cheek still turned to me.   Silent tears were slowly streaming down her face -- she was determined not to give me the satisfaction of seeing her sob.
       "Go back to your room."   I said softly.   "And stay there.   For the rest of the night."
       Adele said nothing, and retreated away quietly.   I started to glance around the room, at the various people looking at me, sometimes openly, sometimes trying to hide their own stares.   I grunted and walked towards the bar and looked at the bartender squarely.   "Why did you let her in here?"
       "It`s an all ages lounge."   The bartender said, shrugging indifferently.   I could have slapped him too.
       Unfortunately, he was right.   And I found that the only thing I wanted more than getting out of that room at that very instant was a drink.   So I asked the bartender to fetch me another glass of Roan bourbon, and as he returned a few moments later, I dropped a few ones on the counter and sat down to sip at my drink, trying to ignore the eyes that were still settled on me.
       I was alone at the bar, for the most part, as I sat with my drink, staring into nowhere, slowly draining my glass as the ice inside continued to melt.   I just sat, drinking and thinking, wondering about what Ollie had said, about my wonderfully disjointed family, brooding about Rollin`s lack of interest in my as of late.   It was a wondrously effective means of bringing my mood back down a notch or two.
       When I was nearly done with my drink, some fellow came and sat a stool away from me, though I had the feeling the only reason he sat there was because all of the other tables were taken.   He quietly ordered himself a beer and then began to drink it with equal hush.   Something about him caught my attention -- at first I thought it was simply because I regarded him as a remarkably handsome man, but then I recognized him as the man with the shrew for a wife who had been in this lounge the same time I had.   I forgot his name -- N something.
       The guy looked how I felt -- absolutely miserable.   Misery loved company, or so they said, and I wanted someone to talk to.   Rollin was being a shit lately, and I didn`t want Ollie, who had revitalized me, to see me in my current state.   So, this handsome man who was a bit in the dumps was as good, if not better, than anyone.   Maybe we could share a little sympathy.
       "Hey."   I said, scooting over to the stool that had previously separated us.
       "Huh?"   I must have pulled the man from his own wandering thoughts, for he looked a little lost as I spoke to him.   "Oh.. hi."
       "Where`s your wife?"   I asked.
       The man blinked.   "Oh, do I know you?"
       "No.   I just saw you two earlier, when the lounge singer.. well, you know.   You didn`t exactly look like the happiest newlyweds."
       "Oh."   The man chuckled darkly and took another swig of his beer.   "Yeah.   I don`t know where she`s off to, she just left.   To go shopping or something.   She wouldn`t tell me."
       "Ah.   Hey, my name is Luriana..." I offered my hand for a shake.
       "Neil." The man said, grasping my hand firmly.
       "Ah." I didn`t say anything -- I didn`t want to seem a snoop.   So we sat in silence for a few moments, staring into our respective drinks (I was seriously considering getting another).
       It was Neil who broke the silence, and when he did, he sounded as though he had wanted to speak for days and could never find anyone to listen to him.   "You know, I didn`t want to get married."
       "Oh yeah?"
       "Yeah."   Neil said.   He took another drink. "I... ahhh... I got her knocked up."   It sounded like the admission hurt.   "A one night stand thing, you see.   I didn`t even know about it until a month before the child was due.. and.. well, my parents..."   The man sighed.
       "I get it."   I grinned.   "One mistake, right?   And now you feel like a prisoner."
       "Yeah.   I mean.. she`s a nice enough girl..."
       "No she`s not.   She`s a total bitch.   I would never put my husband through that scene like you two had."
       "Ah.   So you`re married too?"
       "Yeah." I said, and I fidgeted with the band on my ring finger.   "Though I wasn`t forced into it.   Not really, I suppose.   But I love my husband."
       "Heh.   Well, good for you."
       "Yeah, I guess."   I stopped playing with my ring and drained the last of my drink down my throat.   I then tapped on the bar a few times until I had the bartender`s attention, at which point I ordered another round of the same.   "Things seem different now." I said as the drink was coming.
       "How so?"
       "I`m not sure... it`s just.   I don`t seem very free now.   Trapped, maybe.   Like you.   Though not as bad, I think."
       "Did you two come down here for a vacation, too?"
       I couldn`t help but smile at that question.   It was hard enough to drag Rollin out of the condo for a vacation, but if you did, it was a fat chance he would come to nothing more than a budget hotel in an unremarkable suburb to spend his time off.   "No." I said simply.   "No, we`re just stopping here, on the way back from somewhere else."
       "I see."
       "So.. what do you do for a living?"
       "Me?"   Neil said.   "Heh.   This is going to sound bad, but... I sell computers."
       "Oh yeah?   That`s not so bad."
       "It is, because I got a four year degree in computer science."
       "Ah."
       "What do you do?"
       "Me?   Not much.   Try and play the mother role at home, clean up, stuff like that."
       "You have a daughter, too?"
       "Well, not really.   She`s my husband`s, from a previous love interest."   I realized as I said that that Rollin`s position with Adele was probably very similar to what Neil was going through.   I wondered what was the worst fate -- being chained to marry a woman you didn`t love, or for her to abandon her child to you.   "What about your kid?"
       "My kid?   We had a son.   Basically a fleshy bag of poop right now.." Neil chuckled.   "But he`s cute.   And smart, too.   Rayne`s sister is watching over her right now."
       "Ah.   Our precious offspring is here with us.   It`s too bad you weren`t here earlier.   You might have seen us talking."
       Neil said nothing.   I took a few more sips of my bourbon, switching my eyes from Neil to my glass and back again.   I felt like I was finally with someone who could empathize with me, but unfortunately we were destined to be miserable in our stretch in time.   We both fell into a lapse of silence, left to our own thoughts.   I saw in Neil the kind of man that I could have fallen for as a child, the same kind of man I saw in Rollin.   I couldn`t help but wonder, if Rollin had not scooped me out of my poverty life, if I had found my own way out... I wondered how different life would have been, if I was left to my own designs.
       Men at some point are masters of their fate.
       Well, not me.
       But why not?
       Was I not free?
       Yes, I was.   Maybe it was time to prove it to myself.   It was time to stop living for other people.   It was time to start living for myself.
       I grinned and put my hand softly on top of the one Neil had rested on the counter.   "Neil?"
       I felt him tense a bit under my touch, but his voice was calm as a lake on a sunny day.   "Yes?"
       "Do you find me attractive?"
       He hesitated.   "Yes, very."
       "Likewise.   What do you say we go somewhere and get lost for a while?"
       The corners of Neil`s mouth tugged with a smile.   "I would be delighted."   Suddenly gaining confidence, Neil stood up and offered his arm.   I twined mine in his, and we walked out of the bar, almost unnoticed by the snoopy customers who had watched me like a hawk earlier.
       Neil directed me towards the stairs in the lobby, but I held him back.   He looked startled and confused when he looked to me, but I merely smiled broadly and shook my head.   "My husband is in my room, and your wife could come back at any time.   I think we need to find a place a bit more.. private."
       Neil smiled, curbing his excitement just enough so that he could also see my good sense.   "Very good point.   Here."   He redirected me towards the lobby counter and leaned against it until the portly man on the other side noticed our presence.
       "Can I help you?" he said.
       "Yeah, I was hoping we could get a room."
       "A.. room?" The man said, curious.   He was no fool - I was wearing my "new" coat, but Neil wasn`t, and he may have recognized us as guests who were already registered.   But the customer was always right, and it wasn`t his place to ask questions.   This must have been his resolution, too, because in another moment he was typing away at the computer in front of him.   "Your name, sir?"
       "Neil Brooks."
       "I.. ah.. have you on record as already having a room..."
       "Then I need another."   Neil said.   We knew we weren`t fooling anyone -- the clerk probably already had his guess as to what was going on, and this entertained us, so that both Neil and I were smiling broadly as the exchange continued.
       "Okay.. sir."   The portly man continued.   "We have three rooms left.. one with two twin beds, another with a queen size bed, and a third that includes a queen size bed as well as a hot tub."
       Neil looked down at me and raised his eyebrows.   I shook my head.   "I really don`t think a hot tub will be necessary." I stated.
       "The queen size then."   Neil said, as he placed his checkbook on the counter.   "One night only.   Is that okay?"
       "That will be fine, sir."   The clerk said.   He sprouted off a price and Neil wrote the check.   The clerk took the check and, after it cleared, handed us a new set of keys.   Etched on to the front of one was the barely readable number "212."
       "Shall we?"   Neil asked.   I nodded, and we climbed the staircase to our awaiting adventure.   The door was actually down a couple of hallways, and I could barely contain my anticipation as we turned each corner and passed each window.   I watched the numbers on the doors climb higher and higher anxiously -- 210.. 211... and finally, 212.   I let go of Neil`s arm as we came to the door as, smiling like a gentlemen, he unlocked the door.
       I entered first, and Neil came close behind me and shut the door.   The room was almost exactly like the one Rollin had gotten, except with a larger bed.   I was in no mood to waste time -- before Neil could utter a single word, I wrapped myself around him and stood on my toes to kiss him.   It was no innocent kiss, and if Neil had any lingering reservations, they disappeared in that instant: my intentions were clear.
       Before then, Rollin had been the only man I had ever made love to in my life.   Rollin was a gentle, patient lover.   Neil on the other hand, quite the opposite of his personality, was both passionate and aggressive.   It might have been our situation, both dangerous and delicious, or it may just have been Neil himself, but our sex was like no sex I had ever had, and like no sex I`ve had since.   We rolled violently across the bed, tore its carefully laid garments asunder.   We toyed with and teased each other, and just when we both collapsed, sure that we could drink of this delight no further, we were at it again like wildcats a few minutes later.   Time was dead, it did not exist to us there.   Only after we were both finally exhausted did I find room in my mind for anything not carnal or possessed.   Somehow, we had managed to fall underneath the blankets, facing each other, subdued as we had been in the bar, but significantly more satisfied.
       "Thanks."   Neil said, after he caught his breath.   "I needed that."
       I smiled and snuggled closer to him.   I gave him a light kiss on the neck.   "I did too.   More than you."
       "I doubt that."
       I smiled at him, held him closer, and then laid my head down upon his chest.   He was big, but leaner by far than my Rollin.   He softly brushed through my hair with his fingers.   "You know..." he said quietly.   "I have the keys to our car.   We could just get in.. maybe jump through a gate somewhere.. start all over."
       "All over, huh?"
       "Yeah.. we could go somewhere nice.   Somewhere where no one knows us.   Live in space.   Something new.   Something different."
       "That`s very sweet of you." I said lightly into his chest.   His sweat smelled good.   "But I already trapped myself once, acting on a whim.   And it`s a pleasant, boring life that I`ve trapped myself in.   But I shouldn`t give up on it."   I snuggled a little closer to Neil.   "Not yet."
       "I understand."   Neil sighed.   "I want to see my kid grow up too.   But you can`t blame a guy for trying: you`re a hell of a woman, Luriana."
       "You`re a very sweet man, Neil Brooks."
       And so I finally got my nap.   I have no idea how long I slept there, pressed against Neil, lost in my world of blissful ignorance and childish puppy love.   When I woke up, the world around me was pitch black, and the red quartz alarm clock on the nightstand indicated what I feared -- it was rather late.   5:00 AM, to be exact.   Rollin, if he was awake, was probably wondering where exactly I had gone off to.     Doubly so after sending a bruised Adele back to the room.
       And then there was Adele herself.   I owed her an apology.   She owed me one as well.   But that was no excuse for me to withhold my debt.
       I sat up in the bed Neil and I shared, careful not to awake my company.   I looked down at Neil, sleeping softly in the bed.   I felt like I knew him too well to call him a stranger, but that`s exactly what he was.   I could go off with him, sure, but probably to another prison, a life full of waking up every day, wondering what happened to Rollin, what became of Adele without me to keep her in line.
       We weren`t much of a family, sure.   But that didn`t mean I could run away from them.   "Starting over" was tempting.   But one could not fly with ten cent wings.
       My mind was set.   I stood up out of the bed, careful to make as little noise as possible as I slipped back into my clothes.   Before I threw my coat back over myself, I walked to the side of Neil`s bed and kissed his sleeping cheek lightly.
       "Thank you." I whispered.
       And I disappeared from Neil, probably never to see him again.

       I walked quietly through the hallways and up the stairs leading to my room, certain that one false move would wake up half the building, who would then relay the truth of my absence to Rollin.   As I approached the room, the perfect silence of a five AM hotel was ruined by what sounded like the muffled scream of a young woman.   The scream was followed by two dull thuds, and I quickened my pace, realizing that the sound was coming from near our room.   Another blood curdling scream sounded then, and certain it was Adele I felt my brow moisten with sweat.   I came to my room in a few more strides and opened the door violently.   I flicked the lights on and strode into the room, ready for battle, calling out Adele`s name.   The winged girl bolt upright in her bed and looked at me, wide eyed but still confused by sleep.
       "What.. is it, Luriana?"   She called out.   Rollin, too, by this time was awake and sitting up in his bed.   He was a much harder sleeper than Adele, and did not even have enough sense in him to ask a question.   I simply stood there, looking from one to the other, my mind trying to sort out what was happening.   Had my ears been playing tricks on me after all?   In that case, I would have even more explaining to do than I expected.
       But my the honesty of my hearing was once again proven, for I heard another muffled cry through the wall to my left, followed by what sounded like the angry voice of a man.   I looked to Rollin, concern apparent on my face, but he was still muddled, and probably a good five minutes away from exiting his tunnel of confusion.   Adele actually looked frightened when she heard the sounds next door, perhaps wildly speculating that they were a threat to our room somehow.   I wasn`t sure what the sounds were, but I had a guess, and I had come this far, I might as well finish my investigation.
       Without another word to my family, I exited the room, walked to the next door over, and placed my ear against the wood.   I was dismayed to find I could hear nothing at first -- the situation was looking more and more unpleasant for me.   I remained at the door for a few minutes longer, and I was rewarded with what sounded like a whisper, barely audible through the door.
       What should I do?   Storm in?   It was none of my business, really.   It could be one large misunderstanding on my part, even.   I stepped away from the door and scrutinized it, perhaps willing it to give me some advice somehow.   I didn`t really expect the door to respond, but it did nonetheless.   The door neither said nor did anything, but there was one clue to my mystery prominently displayed just above the peephole:
       313.
       My memory had not exactly been a steel trap that day, but I remembered that number as surely as I had heard it five minutes ago.   My mind became set, and in this instance my reasoning was lightning quick.   I didn`t wait for another sound.   I certainly didn`t knock.   Instead, I opened the door, which was thankfully unlocked, and stormed inside.   I was repulsed but unsurprised by what I found -- Deuce, that smug womanizer I had already had a couple of run-ins with that day, straddling a young woman, with one hand tightly clamped on her mouth and the other harshly squeezing her left breast.   The woman was doing her best to fight the man off, pushing him with one hand and trying to remove his hands, each one alternatively, with her other hand.   I must have come in time -- they were both still fully clothed.   Deuce`s eyes snapped to me like magnets as I walked through the door and, seeing that now familiar look of rage in my eyes, he immediately stepped off his victim.   The woman said nothing, but simply scattered off the bed and out the door.   I could hear her, half sobbing, half shouting, as she ran down the hall.
       Deuce looked at me like a kid whose hand had been caught in the cookie jar, and who was about to receive a serious spanking from his father.   It would have been amusing to me, if I wasn`t so angry -- Deuce was at least a head taller than me and quite a bit larger to boot, but as I stepped nearer to him, it was like I was a semi truck bearing down on a deer.
       "W.. what are you doing in my room?" He stuttered.   I said nothing, but just kept drawing closer and closer to him, until his back was up against the window on the other side of his room.   "What do you want?"   He demanded, his words clipped.   It looked like he was trying to muster the bravery to make a move against me, but his cowardice was so deeply rooted that I had supreme confidence in my safety.
       "What do you want?"   He said against, almost screaming.
       I kneed him in the balls.   Probably hard enough to break something, or better yet, hard enough to cause some permanent damage.   He dropped like a sack of wheat.
       I stood above him, looking down with satisfaction as he coughed, gagged, and grasped at his crown jewels.   I crouched to one knee beside him and lifted his pathetic head by the hair, and stared into his eyes with that same cold gaze I had used to turn him into a sniveling dog twice that day before.   When I spoke, my tone was cold and distant, and my mouth curled into a frightening smile as the words passed through it.
       "I saved your life by taking Adele off your hands.   Because if you would have tried that with my daughter, I would have killed you."
       His eyes widened.   He looked like he believed I might actually carry out that threat.   His fear was delightful, the vengeance sweeter than any candy.   I stood up and watched him roll about for a few seconds more, wondering if I should kick him again for good measure.   He deserved more than that, Great Rainere he deserved more than that.
       But it had been a long day, and I was ready to end it.   I turned my back to that despicable creature and walked back towards the door.   Waiting there for me, dressed in her sweatpants and oversized sweater, slit in the back to make room for her wings, stood Adele.   She was peering into the room, her eyes settled on the quivering man on the ground like an autumn leaf settled on the ground.   The bruise on her face stood in stark contrast with the rest of her pale skin, and the pangs of regret returned to me as I looked upon it.   As I left the room, I shut the door behind me, hiding Deuce, and further evidence of my violence, from Adele.
       "Shouldn`t we do something more?" Adele said.   Her voice was quiet and a bit hoarse.
       "No.   He won`t be bothering anyone else tonight."
       Adele looked up to me.   Her eyes weren`t shining with their usual defiance, but something more detached, something almost surreal.   "Where were you?" She asked.
       "I made a few new friends."   I said, rubbing my new coat lightly.
       Adele looked back down at the ground.   We stood there in the hallway, saying nothing, but for some reason lingering, not returning to our room.   Finally, Adele looked up to me and spoke.
       "Thank you."   She said.
       I sighed heavily and looked down at her, looked at her beautiful face, perfect save one discoloration that directly resulted from me.   "I`m sorry." I whispered.
       "Me too."
       I smiled sadly and rested my hand on her small head, brushing her hair lightly with my fingertips.   "Let`s get some sleep."
       We retreated back into our room, and I was sure to lock the door behind us.   Rollin was finally coming to his senses, and looked to the two of us with that waking expression that was typical and perfectly charming of him.   "What`s going on?" he asked.
       "Just a little vigilante work."   I reported, and I immediately began to undress.   I was worried Rollin might notice my coat, which would have lead to another line of questioning, but he was apparently still too out of it to notice.   "I`ll tell you about it tomorrow, honey.   Right now you have nothing to worry about."
       "Well... okay.   Where have you been?"
       "Out.   Met some people.   Had some fun.   That`s all."   I was surprised at how accurate my summarization was.
       I crawled into bed beside my husband, realizing I probably smelled like a mix of booze, cologne, and sweat.   But I found this no reason to keep away from my husband.. indeed, I actually cuddled up closer to him as I laid down, draping my arm over his body and resting my head on the same pillow as his.   If Rollin had any more questions, they died in his sleep, because in another breath he had returned to his world of deep sleep and dreams.
       I lay awake a while longer as my mind reviewed the events of the day.   I thought I should feel more guilt, or at least more surprise, at the circus that comprised my night.   But in retrospect, it just felt like another day.   Except for one exception.
       I couldn`t wait for tomorrow.

       The morning came early.   That`s why I chose to sleep through it.
       Adele and Rollin got up and left for breakfast.   Or something.   I`m not sure.   At any rate, I absolutely refused to be roused from my sleep.   It wasn`t until nearly lunch time that I finally woke up and felt good enough to seize the day.   I snaked out of bed and looked at the wonderful world of white outside our window, perfect blinding white, undisturbed (except for that confounded highway) and stretching on as far as the eye could see.   I retired to the shower, a nice long shower under a soothing, hotel-standard massaging shower head.   When I came back out into the room, I found Adele and Rollin patiently waiting for me.
       "Good morning, sunshine."   Rollin said.
       I smiled back at him while I dried my hair.   I thought about digging up some of the hairspray, to make myself look a little more presentable, but I decided: Why bother?   I was going to spend the better part of the day inside a car.   In the end, I simply allowed my hair to hang loose, down to my shoulders, straight as toothpicks.
       I quickly dressed myself in the same pants I had worn yesterday, along with the only other shirt I had packed, a nice big turtle neck sweatshirt.   As I pulled the shirt over my head, I heard Rollin ask me a question.   The words were lost to me under the sounds of fabric being pulled over my head, so I asked him to repeat it.
       "Shouldn`t we be leaving soon?" Rollin asked.   "If we stay any longer, we`d almost have been better off just going all the way home yesterday."
       I grinned.   If Rollin would have had his way, we would have been out the door and in the car as soon as the sun started peaking over the horizon.   "Yes, we can leave."
       Though we were still a little slow getting out of town.   I was hungry as all hell, and demanded a meal before we left.   We ate at a nice breakfast place a few blocks away from the hotel.   It was odd -- the conversation we had that morning, though I can barely remember a fig of it, was elated and delightful.   Rollin was animated, while Adele seemed more pleasant than ever, not once stooping to take a sarcastic shot at me, an action that almost always dampened the conversation for all three of us.
       I couldn`t help but stare at Adele`s bruise, the one I had given her, a couple of time throughout the meal.   It was already starting to fade away, but its presence was a harrowing reminder to me.   I wondered if Adele had told the truth to her father -- but no, I decided, she couldn`t have.   Adele was Rollin`s little girl, and if he knew I had done that to her, our breakfast wouldn`t have been nearly so pleasant, not nearly so peaceful.
       At last, my meal was over.   We paid our modest bill and walked back out to the car.   Rollin, by tradition, started to walk to the driver side door, but as we reached the hood of the car I looked towards him and held my hand out.
       Rollins regarded my extended limb curiously.   "What?" He asked.
       "I made you drive all day yesterday."   I told him.   "Let me drive."
       Rollin chuckled and half-grinned, apparently convinced that I was only kidding him.   I bent the fingers of my hands a few times, making it earnestly obvious that I was serious.   Finally, Rollin surrendered the keys, and I entered the car, for once, in the driver side.   Rollin, who was not used to my driving, looked at me as though he were afraid I`d throw the car into reverse, smash us into the building, and kill us all.   I took one look at his concerned expression and then patted him on the knee reassuringly.   "Just relax." I laughed, shifting the car into first.   "I know what I`m doing."
       And he did relax.   Before we were out of town, he had reclined his seat and was already dozing off.   Adele, sitting in the back, was quiet as usual, but her presence felt different somehow.   Calm, maybe.   Unaggressive.   I had to peer back a few times as I drove on to see if she had fallen asleep.   She never did, but every time I looked back at her, she smiled back shyly.
       I didn`t turn the radio on.   I didn`t even want to hear myself breath.   I just wanted to sit there, in the quiet, experiencing a kind of peace that I had never had before or, if I had, I had always taken for granted.
       Because, I decided, there was little in the world to match happiness such as this -- driving home together with my husband and daughter on a quiet winter afternoon.   Returning home to the unexpected, for who knew what awaited us tomorrow?



All the lives we`ve ever lived
And all the lives to be,
Are full of trees and changing leaves,

Luriana, Lurilee

--Charles Elton