{"id":731,"date":"2023-12-10T01:06:24","date_gmt":"2023-12-10T09:06:24","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/seanmiller.us\/blog\/?p=731"},"modified":"2023-12-10T01:06:26","modified_gmt":"2023-12-10T09:06:26","slug":"confessions-nears-completion","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/seanmiller.us\/blog\/confessions-nears-completion\/","title":{"rendered":"Confessions Nears Completion"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

I’m happy to announce that I finished the second draft of Confessions of a Hallway Hustler<\/em>. I’ve started in on the third draft. My goal is to publish the ebook on Amazon by the end of December. I’m on pace to accomplish this.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There are 41 chapters and almost 30,000 words.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Here’s a rough version of a later chapter:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The bell rang, marking the end of another day of brisk sales at Jerburbia Middle School. It was too soon to tell, though, if the dips and climbs of our sales figures was something more than normal day-to-day volatility. It was going to be another long night back at the clubhouse crunching the numbers. Was the shark moving forward? Hard to tell.
And I had other matters on my mind.
\u201cYou ready?\u201d Toadstool whispered in my ear, his eyes dark with purpose. He had bad breath \u2014 like rotten fish.
As I strolled down the hall with my \u201cguest,\u201d kids were in a mad dash around us, their backpacks bouncing as they raced to their buses.
We spotted Niven walking while a cluster of kids crowded around him, jamming smartphones in his face. It didn\u2019t seem to faze him at all. He talked as they walked together.
We followed a few paces behind. The group wound its way down the front steps of the school building and onto the sidewalk.
He stopped. We stopped. The kids from the school paper stashed their phones and circled back inside. He was alone.
We followed Niven blocks after blocks, careful to stay a few bus-lengths behind. I was expecting him to be worried. To shoot glances behind. But he never looked back. I strolled like a kid without a worry in the world.
He rounded a bend. We had to jog to catch up. When came round the corner, he was nowhere in sight. Did he give us the slip?
Nope. There he was, tipping his baseball cap to a lady in a blue windbreaker. She was loitering at the entrance of what looked like a fancy apartment building. A sign over the entrance read, \u201cLobby To Beyond Retirement Home.\u201d
Bingo.
The lady seemed to recognize him. She waved him past.
We walked toward her like we owned the place. I ducked behind some shrubbery and ripped some flowers from a flowerbed. We continued. As we got close, I froze.\u201cWe need a name,\u201d I whispered.
\u201cHuh?\u201d
\u201cAn old white lady name.\u201d
Toadstool caught my drift. He scratched his chin for a bit, then ventured, \u201cCourtney?\u201d
\u201cDefinitely white. But bounds middle-aged. Not old.\u201d
\u201cMadison.\u201d
\u201cNah.\u201d
\u201cHow about Doris?\u201d
\u201cNow you\u2019re cooking.\u201d
The lady in the windbreaker was watching our exchange. We straightened up and approached her.
\u201cCan I help you, young men?\u201d
\u201cWe\u2019re here to see\u2026\u201d I shot a glance to Toadstool. \u201cum\u2026 Doris.\u201d
\u201cWhich Doris? We have seven of them.\u201d
\u201cDoris\u2026umm\u2026Smith.\u201d
\u201cNo Doris with that last name.\u201d
\u201cOh, sorry. That\u2019s my Nana\u2019s maiden name. That\u2019s what I call her, Nana.\u201d
The lady crossed her arms. \u201cI see.\u201d She looked us over.
We grinned.
At last, she pointed to a desk in the entryway. \u201cSign in there.\u201d
The place smelled\u2026interesting. Imagine if sweaty socks had a wrestling match with cough syrup.
We spotted Niven. He was at the other end of a long hall, laden with old folks plodding along with walkers. You know, the kinds with tennis-balls stuck to the front feet.
We walked briskly, dodging this way and that, smiling and greeting everyone we passed.
\u201cA good day to you,\u201d I said. I tipped an imaginary top hat. \u201cAnd a good day to you.\u201d
\u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d Toadstool growled.
\u201cThe elderly, they love that stuff.\u201d
\u201cJust hurry up. We have to get to him before he goes in her room. It\u2019s probably too late already.\u201d
We doubled our pace. I almost knocked this one chap in a paisley sport coat over. \u201cThe powder room\u2019s that way.\u201d
\u201cWhat?\u201d
\u201cI get it. Nature calls.\u201d
\u201cWhat?\u201d
\u201cYou gotta pee.\u201d
\u201cI know how that is,\u201d another resident added. \u201cI have to pee all the time.\u201d He held up a plastic bag. It was half full of a golden liquid. A tube ran down from the bag into his shorts. \u201cDid you know the medical term for peeing isn\u2019t urination?\u201d
\u201cI didn\u2019t know that,\u201d Toadstool said.
\u201cWanna know what the docs call it?\u201d
\u201cI guess,\u201d he said.
\u201cMicturition.\u201d
\u201cInteresting,\u201d I said.
\u201cNever stop learning. That\u2019s my motto.\u201d
\u201cA good one,\u201d I said.
\u201cA good what?\u201d
\u201cMotto.\u201d
\u201cYou\u2019re a smart kid,\u201d he said. \u201cI can tell. You have a bright future ahead of you.\u201d
\u201cAw, thanks,\u201d I said.
Just then, Toadstool clamped down on my elbow.
\u201cOww,\u201d I said.
\u201cThere he is,\u201d he hissed.
Niven had just come out of the bathroom and was making a beeline for a door at the end of the hall. Surely, it had to be his grandma\u2019s room. We had to hustle. We juked and shimmied around the creeping bodies to catch up to him.
But just when it looked like we were going to miss him, Niven stopped dead in his tracks. A water fountain. He bent over to take a long draught.
This was our big chance. We ducked behind an orderly that was heading toward the exit at the end of the hall. When we reached Niven we peeled off of the orderly\u2019s wake.
Toadstool gave me some elaborate hand signal like he was with the Special Forces or something. I shrugged.
He pointed at me and feigned ramming his elbow into Niven.
\u201cOh,\u201d escaped my mouth. I bit my lip. \u201cSorry,\u201d I whispered.
Luckily, he must have been extremely thirsty. He was gulping down the water like he\u2019d just stubbled out of the desert.
I wandered up to Niven, whistling. I was enjoying a casual afternoon stroll. No particular destination.
When I reached, I pretended to trip and threw my back into his protruding butt. He lurched forward. The stream of water splashed across his face.
I stood up, expecting him to chew me out.
\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d he said, squeegeeing the droplets from his cheeks with his hand. \u201cWas I in your way?\u201d
\u201cSorry,\u201d I said. \u201cI didn\u2019t see you there.\u201d
\u201cNo worries.\u201d He looked at me intently. I almost felt like blushing. Like he was peering into my soul or something. \u201cDon\u2019t I know you?\u201d
\u201cI don\u2019t think so.\u201d
\u201cYou look so familiar.\u201d
\u201cI get that a lot. Must be my generic good looks.\u201d
He laughed. It was a genuine laugh, as if he actually liked my cheesy joke.
\u201cNice to meet you,\u201d he said and offered his hand.
We shook. His grip was warm and firm, not clammy or a vice grip. It was pretty much the perfect handshake.
\u201cGood to meet you too,\u201d I said and turned to go. Toadstool gave me a big thumbs up.
There it was, jutting from Niven\u2019s jacket pocket. An entire carton of cigarettes. We had him now.
Niven knocked on the door.
A frail voice behind the thick door said, \u201cCome in.\u201d
Niven opened the door. I couldn\u2019t help myself. I had to peek inside. The shades were down, so it was hard to see. In a hospital bed, covered in a white sheet, lay his grandma. Machines on stands beeped and hummed around her. Tubes ran from the machines across her lap and up her nose. Some were stuck into the crooks in her elbows. She looked so delicate, like an orange leaf about to tumble from an ancient oak tree.
Niven stepped in, and smiling warmly, said, \u201cHello, Gram.\u201d
\u201cCome close,\u201d she wheezed. \u201cSo I can have a good look at you.\u201d
He came up to the side of the bed and gave her kiss on the cheek. \u201cHow are you feeling?\u201d He cupped her hand in both of his.
\u201cDelighted. Now that you\u2019re here.\u201d
Toadstool tugged at my shoulder. \u201cLet\u2019s go.\u201d
I brushed him off. \u201cWait.\u201d
\u201cYou\u2019ve grown so tall.\u201d
\u201cGram, I saw you yesterday.\u201d
\u201cOne day? Growing like a weed.\u201d She chuckled. The chuckle quickly morphed into wheezing, then into a fit of coughing.
\u201cNow, Gram, no more jokes,\u201d Dos Matos said.
\u201cLaughter is the best medicine,\u201d she managed to get out between coughs. \u201cAnd I need a lot of it.\u201d
I couldn\u2019t take it anymore. How could we do this to him? To her? She was really sick. Some kind of lung problem. Maybe pneumonia. Or who knows, even emphysema. Any shock would send her over the edge.
What kind of monster had I become?
Looking at the two of them, huddled close to together. Seeing each other. Caring for each other.
That\u2019s when it hit me. What I wanted. What I missed. From my mom. From everyone. To see and be seen. To listen and be heard. To be fully present with each other.
I made for the door. Toadstool tried to grab me. \u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d he growled. I pulled myself out of his grip and went stumbling into the room. I finally got my feet under me and stood straight. I was at the foot of Gram\u2019s bed.
\u201cHello,\u201d she said, half a question.
For a second, Niven looked confused. Then he said, \u201cThis is my grandma. Um, I\u2019m sorry, but I didn\u2019t get your name.\u201d
\u201cAnton. Nice to meet you, Gram.\u201d
\u201cHow did you know\u2014\u201d
\u201cI\u2019m sorry to interrupt. It\u2019s just that I forget something.\u201d
\u201cYou forgot something?\u201d
There was no way around. I had to act now, before his grandma noticed what was in his pocket.
\u201cSorry,\u201d I said. I darted around the corner and lunged at Niven. He turned to face me, the look of utter confusion returning to his face. I snatched the carton from his pocket, wheeled around, and sprinted out of the room.
Neither of them had any idea what just happened.
Toadstool was waiting for me outside. \u201cWhat the?\u201d
I marched right past him, chucking the carton into a garbage bin. \u201cGet lost.\u201d
\u201cWhat?\u201d
\u201cGet out of here. Go home. If you have one.\u201d
\u201cYou\u2019re gonna pay for this, Anton.\u201d
\u201cDo your worst,\u201d I said and never looked back.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I’m happy to announce that I finished the second draft of Confessions of a Hallway Hustler. I’ve started in on the third draft. My goal is to publish the ebook on Amazon by the end of December. I’m on pace to accomplish this. There are 41 chapters and almost 30,000 words. Here’s a rough version … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_coblocks_attr":"","_coblocks_dimensions":"","_coblocks_responsive_height":"","_coblocks_accordion_ie_support":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[4,3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-731","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-craft","category-process","no-featured-image-padding"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/seanmiller.us\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/731","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/seanmiller.us\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/seanmiller.us\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/seanmiller.us\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/seanmiller.us\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=731"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/seanmiller.us\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/731\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":732,"href":"https:\/\/seanmiller.us\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/731\/revisions\/732"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/seanmiller.us\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=731"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/seanmiller.us\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=731"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/seanmiller.us\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=731"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}