How would God respond to making a mistake? Would planets collide or mountains slide into the sea? Or would the ledger of all life simply remain out kilter until a series of small events forced that ledger back into balance again? It's probably the l...
A motel a few blocks from Louie's Bookstore & Café
Baltimore, Maryland
aNd SO i saY to yOu...
Alba Quisling never had much of a heart. [8]
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She did, however, have something infinitely more important. She had what some people call a "perfect bed body". Curves and cushions of flesh that seem like handwritten invitations to visit and stay a while. Great mountainous breasts with expansive brown nipples covering as much area as some small countries. So soft that they'd quiver if Alba just blinked her eyes. And her skin was so smooth that compliments just seemed to slide away from her as if all those earnest professions of desire had never been uttered in the first place. She was, in a word, breathtaking. And yet, this fact is worth citing simply because Alba's perfect bed body was her one (and only) notable attribute. In all other ways, Alba Quisling was average. She was blessed with an average mind, an average sense of humor, and had conversational skills that always hovered near the norm. Absolutely none of which people noticed. Not men or women. Not even children. They saw only her body and imagined spending memorable nights beside it.
Her sister, Jolie, frowned as Alba admired herself in the mirror. Unlike Alba, Jolie was neither memorable nor exceptional in any way. Jolie was, in fact, utterly forgettable. This was a truth she mulled over from the moment she woke up each day until the time she went to bed. There were even nights when she dreamt about her overwhelming inconspicuousness.
The Quisling sisters had lived together off and on for over four decades. Most of that time was spent in a modest home that skirted the Baltimore City/County line. Although it was just two blocks from where Charon Fanner lived, the Quislings and the Fanners had only sparse knowledge of one another. Like everyone else, Charon Fanner had always admired Alba but only from a distance. She knew nothing of the twig-thin Jolie. Likewise, the Quisling girls wouldn't have been able to pick out Charon from among all their other sad and simple neighbors. On the other hand, they did know her son. But not as Syracke. Everyone in that small north Baltimore community referred to Syracke Fanner as The Dog Boy.
At one time, there were seven Quislings. Now, there were only two and these two lived together in a single room in the Maryland Avenue Motel. The room contained one small bed, a table with a lamp, two chairs, a nicely polished vanity, and a narrow cot beside the bathroom. When they first moved to the motel, the sisters had planned to take turns using the bed but one or the other was usually out for the night. Most often, it was Alba sharing her gifts with the world.
In the years since they moved away from North Baltimore, their parents had died, two sisters had died, and even Jolie's son had died. So much death in so little time. That may sound sad, but it isn't all that sad because it mimics the lives of so many other people who were kinder, more generous, thoughtful, and selfless than the last of the Quislings. What we need to know for this story is that one Quisling was curvy and the other was slim. One was appealing and the other ordinary. One was memorable and the other would be forgotten in the blink of an eye.
