"I know what a lessor Sorkin is... and I want to be one."

Ark Book IV Chapter 4, Part 1

Chapter Four

It was a little after 8 P.M. and the sun was turning red toward the western horizon. There were wispy red cirrus clouds forming a crown around the setting sun. The old nautical adage came to mind. "Red sky at night, sailor's delight" had been taught to me as a kid by my old salt grandfather. I didn't really have a chance to appreciate this painted sky because the traffic was moving, and I didn't want to be on the losing side of a rear ender. Besides, I had that twilight feeling again, living in two different worlds. This masterpiece of Nature would seep into the darkness in a half hour, by the time I got home.

I wouldn't be surprised if Genna took a nap after supper, and might still be snoozing when I arrived. I quietly entered the house, did my quick alarm trick, and then tiptoed into the dark house. I could not see, but I heard:

"Hello. Red Shoals really wiped me out. I'm just resting my eyes in the wing chair. What did you get at the bookstore?"

"A couple of tee shirts that you just reminded me are still in the car. I'm going back out to get them." In the garage, I popped the trunk, and heard that voice again.

"Quincy's next."

At this point, I didn't get any chills or weak knees. However, I didn't think Quincy Wilson would be the next of the players wanting to talk to me. He had the most success after his college days of any of them. As much of a problem for helping to solve this mystery, was how I was going to arrange more frequent trips to the Ark, without seeming strange to Genna. So far, I'd been able to finesse my excuses with elements of truth. Genna and I had agreed long ago never to lie to each other, fib, maybe, but not lie.

Returning to the house, I showed Genna my purchases. She was unimpressed.

"Genna, it was all very confusing (true). They had so much stuff; I really couldn't decide what I really wanted. Tee shirts always come in handy for me (half truth)." She accepted this, knowing what a lousy shopper I am.

I turned on a small background light to lessen the eyestrain from the TV, which I turned on next. Flipping channels, I found some news to snooze by, mostly about upbeat, human interest stories, rather than the misanthropic deeds the dregs of the world are involved with. After a half hour, the busy day was catching up with me also. The twilight feeling was drifting toward sleep. What to do about tomorrow, and an excuse to get back to the Ark. Genna was already in snooze mode when I clicked off the TV. Easing my head onto the pillow, I chuckled as I thought of Meatloaf, the singer:

"Baby, baby, let me sleep on it. Let me sleep on it, I'll give you an answer in the morning ..."

* * *

The sunlight in the room had me guess the time as about 6:30AM. A glance over at the clock radio said 6:19. Another glance at Genna lying next to me made me wonder again how she stays asleep being a nocturnal contortionist. Her left arm was over her head on the pillow, her head turned left at me, her right leg hanging off the bed below the knee, and her other leg folded together. She sure seems like an active dreamer, although she says she isn't. I hope she doesn't dream about kicking me.

I slowly slid off the bed to my feet, slipped into my walking attire, and tread lightly towards my bathroom, avoiding as many loose floor boards as I could remember. I proceeded with my morning hygienic routine, the details of which I'll spare you. After retrieving the morning papers outside, I retreated to the kitchen refrigerator to get an idea for breakfast. Oatmeal, I thought, to unclog a few arteries. I opened the breakfast island drawer to check the calendar for today's agenda.

Oh, good. Genna's got a haircut scheduled for late morning. After that, she'll probably resort to her favorite compulsion, window shopping. I'll probably be able to get lost for about two hours.

Reopening the fridge, I served myself a few prunes, a probiotic pill, and a glass of water. That combo along with my daily walk keeps me a regular guy, so to speak. I'm out the door into the development, which is still a work in progress. I hear the air driven nailers and back hoes working on a house about two blocks away from ours. Genna can sleep through these sounds. Luckily, I'm an earlier riser, because I cannot.

Briskly again, like yesterday, heal, toe, and prayers, for forty five minutes.

Returning home, I quietly re-enter the house. I hear the clock radio on, which means Genna's in the process of waking. Going directly into the kitchen, I glean the papers to see what else is wrong with the world. I don't want to come off as a pessimist; I'm really not. The world just seems to be trending that way lately. Now that my body is awake, I need to do the same for my mind, and the crossword puzzle usually does the trick. The current events can wait, since I most likely saw then already on TV or the Internet. After my best stab at the crossword, the local events in the paper get my attention.

Genna sleepily trod into the kitchen, gave me a rainbow wave with a 90 degree elbow, and a kiss on the cheek.

"Oatmeal?"

"Sure," she says.

"How'd you sleep?"

"OK, but John, you were talking in your sleep. Something about ... "Charlie ... don't worry." There was more, but I was still half asleep myself."

I feigned a quizzical look, and said, "Really. I don't remember any of that (a fib). You don't remember anything else I said?"

"No. Like I said, I was still asleep."

That was a relief. I begin to wonder at what point I'm going to spill the beans to her. Please, I hope not. I continue to wonder about this as I'm making the oatmeal, not too soupy, not too dry. When it's ready, I spoon it into separate bowls; then she does her thing to hers, and I do mine. I add granola with dried fruit, a half a banana, flax seed, and vanilla soy milk. Breakfast of champions. I'll spare you what she does with hers. Cup of green tea for me, cup of coffee for her.

As we're eating, I ask her, "Have I been talking in my sleep lately, the last couple of nights?"

"Not that I can recall, besides those few words last night. By the way, I'm getting my haircut later this morning, so I better hit the shower. What are your plans?"

"I don't know yet, exactly. I'll put together a few errands while you're gone, I'm sure."

She was off to the shower before proceeding into her "get ready" mode, which to me is akin to a moon shot countdown.

After rinsing the dishes for her to clean up later, I decided to piddle around in my English flower garden at the front of the house. This is my little piece of heaven on the property. It's just as much as I want to do in the way of gardening these days; a half hour a day is usually all that's required. There's a mixture of evergreen shrubs and perennial flowers in a semi-shade/sunny area that's on either side of the walkway to the front entrance. Actually, our "front" entrance is on the side of the house, so we have two wide side beds along the walk leading up to the entrance steps. The pink azaleas, boxwood, and burning bushes are interspersed with the dense perennials, including multicolored daylilies, pink and white astilbes, multicolored irises, coneflowers, black eyed susans, clematis, and columbines among assorted wildflowers, most of whose names escape me. The pink dogwood on the corner leads up to two giant light pink butterfly bushes, which seem to supply most of the nectar for the butterflies and hummingbirds in the county. I went over to stand on the side of my neighbor Mike's driveway about twenty feet away, which offers the best view around the corners of my little Eden. I've asked him for, and have been granted, "gazing rights" to view my garden from that spot. Just then, my ears rang:

"Are you going to see Quincy today?"

That voice again.