THAT OL' CERTAINTY

2019 AGELESS AUTHORS CONTEST FINALIST

WHO AM I?

     I swear to God I did not go into that honkey-tonk in Austin looking for that old certainty. Honestly, I just like country music... oh, yeah, and the women. They can even be asymmetrical! And the beer, I like the beer. 'N I just like to dance the 2-Step. That’s all. 
     Just exercising my emotions, okay passions, and my Sentient Soul and I’ll ask a pretty woman to dance. Hold her real close, left hand in her right hand, slightly cupped; my right hand on her lower back - maybe her back belt-loop. Catch a beat or two... and we Texas 2-Step. Slow-Quick-Quick; Slow-Quick-Quick; repeat.

     Some gals don’t like to be held tight and kinda try to wiggle away. Some don’t like to be led and resist for a moment. Then I ask them if they REALLY want to dance. Some want to be independent, but the 2-Step, well when you 2-Step and you twirl, go open-style and cut your way through the traffic, somebody BETTER lead so it will be less loco and more motion in the locomotion.

     So there I was 2-Steppin’ and Swing Dancin’ and the band was stylin’ George Jonesn’, Ray Price n’ and Willie ‘n Merle and George Strait, Clint, Hank Jr. and, Lord knows who else.

     There were layers and layers of lights and boots and hats and glitter and see-through blouses, and sounds. Layers and players. And more than a few nay-sayers. Some drunken pals. Some suffering gals. Winners and losers. Just a Friday night in Austin.

WHY AM I HERE?

     I swear I do not EVER look for Dame Adventure. I do not WANT Dame Adventure. I have a deviated-septum, a Collies fracture and trashed knees - and do not NEED more adventure. I was just there to dance. Hold a woman real close, right hand on her lower back. Slow-Quick-Quick; Slow-Quick-Quick...  Say a word or two. Ask her name. Concentrate on the dance moves. Step back and twirl her, catch her eye and smile, real polite like. Asymmetrical is fine.

     But the thing about Dame Adventure is that she whispers. Honest to God, she whispers. It’s like you hear someone calling your name but it would be absolutely impossible to be boot-scootin’ and hear a whisper when the band is playing Hank Jr.’s “Family Tra-dition!” But, there it was.

     So, I began cutting behind her and side stepping and scanning the tables at the edge of the dance floor and we made a full circle around the room.

     Where in the WORLD did that whisper come from? WHO in the world is whispering my name?

WHAT DO I WANT?

     It was like I was Moses and the red-neck sea parted and there She sat. Right there at the end of the table. I was certain she whispered. She had a coy, knowing look in her eyes.

     Her mother, about my age, sat beside her. Her mother was no rodeo rookie. She had Dolly hair, a flouncy, low-scooped blouse, bare-midriff, skin-tight jeans and a tooled belt which read “BITCH”. She had Botox, lipstick, dentures, and defenses. On the table in front of her was a small clutch. I guessed a 2-Shot Derringer.

     Her was the mother of She. She had whispered to me. This was the third time in my life that I’ve met such a She. I felt whatever in me that was solid turn to liquid and what was liquid turn to air. My heart started racing. Other men started to look, too. My chest trembled. I smelled the competition.

     I stopped. Still. My dance partner didn’t know what was going on but she followed my eyes and saw they were riveted on She - the one for me. I had to have her. I didn’t know what it would take, divorce, money, bass boat; but that didn’t matter. I didn’t care about what I was going to lose.

     She was just the most perfect woman. A wild abundance of sunlight and femaleness glowed around her. Young, fresh, untapped, spontaneous, waiting for a decisive move.

     That old certainty. Yeah, I felt it. Then the Planet Saturn kick Macho Mars out of the way and showered me with historical memory forces. This was my third She! I already knew how this was going to end. I touched my deviated-septum. Why do I always wind up with losers like She, I asked Mars?

“Excuse me, ma’am.” I said to Her mother. “Would you like to dance?”

Her eyes lit up, her Botox levitated, she popped up, slung the tiny derringer clutch over her low-scoop flouncy blouse and held out her hand.

I was just there to dance. Hold a woman real close, right hand on her lower back. Slow-Quick-Quick; Slow-Quick-Quick...  Say a word or two. Ask her name. Mmm, she smells NICE. Concentrate on the dance moves. Step back and twirl her, catch her eye and smile, real polite like. Asymmetrical is fine.

As we say in Texas: “It’s better to aim at a star and hit a stump than aim at a stump and miss.”

© Copyright 2015, Jean W. Yeager

All Rights Reserved

ON SALE NOW

"Th3 Simple Questions: Slice Open Everyday Life" 
Softbound & Hardbound

Available at Internet Retailers 

eBook - via Kindle
or from the author @3.99

============================== 

REVIEWS:

JACK MAGNUS / Readers Favorite Review:  http://ow.ly/Xrogz

     5-Stars

BRENDA HAMMOND / GoodReads Review - http://ow.ly/Xrp2Z
    "You should buy this."
MARK KRAUSMAN  / GoodReads Review - http://ow.ly/Xrp0G
     5Stars

==============================

WHERE TO BUY: TH3 SIMPLE QUESTIONS: Slice Open Everyday Life

AMAZON AUTHOR SITE: http://tinyurl.com/jk9a6e7

AMAZON BOOK: http://tinyurl.com/zxa8v8a

AMAZON KINDLE: http://tinyurl.com/hcgszn3

BARNES & NOBLE: http://tinyurl.com/hzsyxun

NOOK: http://tinyurl.com/h7td54a

APPLE iBOOKS: http://tinyurl.com/hfexmsl

KOBO: http://tinyurl.com/zoxzb2c

LOVE IS A TONE (A HEART TO HEART)

WHO AM I?

     When I was a college student, I was a wannabe guitar player when I met a tone. I met her one night as I was passing a party and heard a guy run a riff - just a quick riff- that ended with this tone - a very special, life changing tone. I looked over. She hung in the air, like a beautiful atmospheric, full of longing and passion and well, lushness. She was so intimate, and entered my heart, I was touched. I thought to myself, "Man, who IS THAT TONE!?"  What I meant was that I had to have her.

     A tone, like a woman, is independent, easily desired but totally free which means they man not to be with you - choice is involved, her choice.  The longing to actually attempt to meet her, went on for days. I practiced. I searched for her on the guitar. But how do you meet a tone so smooth, polished and beautiful; so refined when you're a crude player, a beginner. Nothing tough in your fingers. All childishly, soft and sloppy? A tone, like woman, knows a lover with sensitivity.  Still, the desire lingered in my mind.

     A month later, at a party, I heard a girl laugh and in her laugh and the lilt of her voice, was THE tone. It caused me to snap my head around but when the girl saw the searching look in my eyes, her eyes grew questioning, then playful and I didn't know what to say. But I did say to the girl I was with, "Who IS that girl?" Which meant that I had to have her.

WHY AM I HERE?

     I was pursuing the tone and now and was confused about the girl. In my dreams I saw the girl's face but felt in my heart the emotions I first felt when I experienced the tone. I was practicing my guitar and searching for her. But I was not sure she wanted me to come near or even touch her at all. What chance did I have? I was not as experienced a player as the guy who was with her when we met - a better man than I. All lovers want to be worthy of their beloved.  I wanted to transform myself to be worthy of the tone. But what if I was not able to play up to that level of expertise? That I fell short and lived my life with the sound in my head and the feelings in my soul which I was not able to bring into existence? What if I got distracted by other music?

     What about love? Was love beyond the single tone? Was my search for this tone a fantasy that lived in my head - not even a conscious desire? And for which I was hoping to someday create myself as a player? Should I give up this tone stuff?

WHAT DO I WANT?

     Are tones embodied in people?  Could the same feelings which I found in that note or music be incarnated in a  person? Could the tone which touched my heart and released an effervescence like crystal clear water running over iridescent pebbles and brightly colored autumn leaves - a rippling under-tone that bubbled up into my soul and filled me with joy - that put me on weeks of searching, longing and sleepless nights - could that tone be alive in a person that I could invite to go get a cup of coffee with me?

     Amazingly, yes. There was an excitement in just being with her. Just hearing her talk. Just having that tone wash over my soul was, ecstasy. My, I could listen to her for hours!

     Still can.

     It was as if we ran away from the world into the deepest woods and were the only two people for miles and miles. Life stayed crisp and young as when we first went for coffee. All experiences were new and everything was possible.

     Still is.

     We are there in that instant for one another.

     The tone of a voice moving a heart. Then two hearts vibrating together. It's a resonance. A conversation. A heart-to-heart.

(c) Copyright 2014, Jean W. Yeager
All Rights Reserved 

ON SALE NOW
Jan – June 2014 threesimplequestions Blog Posts
Are Available In Book Form 
"Th3 Simple Questions: Slice Open Everyday Life" 
Available at
http:/www.th3simplequestions.com

Available at Internet Retailers 

By WestBow Press

6x9 Perfect Bound Softcover @ $11.95

ISBN: 978-1-4908-7124-0

6x9 Dust Jacket Hardcover @ $28.95

ISBN: 978-1-4908-7125-7

E-Book @ $3.99

ISBN: 978-1-4908-7123-3