Things to not say during prostate exam

• This usually costs extra.
• Is that a ring?
• Your knuckles are huge.
• What are you doing later?
• Sprinkle the infield while down there.
• Don't forget the taint.
• Is this what giving birth feels like?
• That's my spot.
• Lower.
• No, lower.
• Seriously, lower.
• Hold it right there.
• Mmmmmm.

Farewell

He watched as she talked. He wondered how it could have been missed? It was right in front of him all those years - the one friendship that never wavered. Those lips, those eyes, that face, but the most important thing required a closer look.

"Are you okay?" She smiled before sipping the girly drink in her hand.

"Yeah, sure, finish your story." He waved in her direction as she didn't miss a beat while explaining the boring details of her day, but he didn't find them boring. In fact, he had never found anything she said boring.

His eyes followed the curve of her arm up to the neck and rested on her face. The misfires and mistakes melted away as the realization of how much he loved this woman permeated his soul. He wondered how he had overlooked the obvious for so many years.

"He walks right up to me and asks me what the hell I am doing. Well, I didn't back down like the others and gave it to him straight. He fumbled while apologizing and then left me alone." She leaned forward and took another sip while looking in his eyes.

"You have to get in some people's face to get them to understand. I'm sure you surprised him." He wanted to reach out and touch her soft skin, but the past left him cautious.

"You are so right. Hey, check out the guy wearing the cape in the corner." She leaned closer to whisper the information - as if anybody could hear her above the loud lunch crowd.

"Where?" I turned and met the strange man's eyes.

"Gawd, don't, geez, I didn't mean look straight at him!" She reached over and slapped him while laughing.

"Why would anybody wear a cape? Besides, it is so fucking hot outside." He shook his head in disbelief awaiting her next sentence.

"Exactly. Oh, crap, I have a meeting in twenty minutes. I need to go." She grabbed her purse and quickly stood while waiting for him to follow.

"Wow, I didn't realize it was so late. Time seems to fly when we're together." He smile hoping the statement didn't sound as stupid to her as it did to him.

"Yes, it is always great to see you."

He held the door as she exited to the overwhelming afternoon heat. The sunglasses covered her eyes as she gave him a hug and said she hoped to see him again soon. He told her to call or send an email and he'd meet her whenever and wherever. He knew he was being transparent, but she was too busy to notice.

He leaned against his car and watched her drive away. A sense of loss formed in the pit of his stomach. He knew he had thought he knew love for so many years and then again with a brief fling, but those were no match for what he felt now. He never missed those like he now missed her, but he knew he was doomed.

Raising black

When I was 13 years old, I showed off a new blue and chrome stick shift Schwinn 5 speed bike that dad mysteriously arrived and delivered the previous morning. It was complete with banana set and chrome finders - a thing of beauty. I showed everybody - even the older kds. Jeff, one of the olders, smiled broadly as I demonstrated its features. He was the coolest black kid in the nightborhood.

"Hey, I'm having some problems with the breaks and the right shifter." I casually let him know that is was basically a piece of chunk.

"<nice>, wellI think I can handle the break fix, any chance I could is? My black mongoose is having some timing issues.I bring it back as soon as finished.

There was an eerie silence as to figure out what to do.

"Deal?" His pearly whites flashed my way (compliments of Dr. Thressenger.

'Well, I dunno, I just got it and would get in trouble."

"Good points indeed, come to the debate club room one day." He sped away.

I was downtrodden, how could i let down my friend.

Great idea

"You shouldn't answer a question with a question, that is rude."

"Well, you didn't answer it." I steal a glance at my watch while he clumsily searches a shoulder bag. I sit with arms folded, waiting for a response.

"Touche." He smiles as a pack of chewing gum emerges from the bag. He folds a piece like a ribbon and tosses it into his mouth.

"What? Are you high?" I lean across the table and jerk the sunglasses from his face - the eyes do not betray him.

"No, stoppit." He grabs the glasses and places drops them in the bag. look, I think it is a great idea. And, to answer your question, no, I am not crazy. You never support me." His jaws move vigorously while working the gum.

"This may be the dumbest idea you've ever had. You're going to buy people's secrets and sell them back? What the fuck?" I slap the table with both hands and force a laugh. I know there were better ways to spend my time. The pile of work on my desk floats in my mind.

"No, fuck, you never listen to me. See, people will sell me information - secrets they have on other people. I'll store the information and then sell it to the target person - the person whose actual secret it is. They'll have to pay since they don't want anybody to know. Shit, it is a can't miss." He mockingly slaps the table as a manic smile crosses his face. His stares at me with eyes bulging and jaw frantically working the gum.

"Blackmail? You're going to blackmail people? Uh, you do know that is illegal? How will you keep track and how can you guarantee ths information is true and how do you keep the people from telling anyway?!" My lips curl at the corners as I shake my head. My brother never ceases to amaze me.

"Duh, I think I know what is legal - I've been in jail, you haven't. Anyway, I won't threaten them with the information. And, I'll keep a database of the secrets - I thought you could help with that. Plus, I'll make the sellers sign a document to guarantee they won't spread it." He wavew me off and nods his head at my obvious stupidity.

"They will sign a contract? You'll have a lawyer on staff to take people to follow-up and procesute?"

"Yeah, you see, now you get it. My frind Tommy knows a guy. Plus, I'll give the persons who buy their secrets a guarantee that it won't be revealed!" He clapps his hands together to signify his excitement.

"So, what if somebody besides the person who sold it to you reveals it? What if the person themself reveals it? What if they deny it? What if it isn't true?"

"Good points, I appreciate it, that is valuable feedback." He leans down and opens a manilla folder and scribbles notes in a obviously old notebook. I'll have to change the langauge on the paper. And, if they deny it, I'll reveal it. Duh."

"Duh? Are you fucking crazy?"

"There you go again, why you always gotta step on my dreams?"

"Look, I'm sorry, it is a good idea. I'm sure it'll be a success, just don't forget me when you're a big shot." I decide to give it a rest since none of his ideas ever lead anywhere. I place two twenties on the table to cover the check and stand up, preparing to leave.

"Whoa not so fast." He motions for me to sit down as the waitor grabs the money and disappears.

"What's up?" Car keys twirl on my index finger while waiting for his next idea.

"Well, you're my first customer." The sheepish grin on his face slowly fades as he slides a document towards me.

"What?"

Haunting

"Is there anything I can help you with?" Susan noticed the cut vegetables as she approached the counter. She wanted to jump in, but she was a guest and her sister's orderly household always left her disoriented.

"No, get yourself some wine; I've got everything under control." Cathy waved her away while adjusting the blue flame under the pan. She grabbed the oil when the flame met her expectations. She smiled at her blurry reflection in the silver pan while dropping a few splashes of oil in it. "There, that is three tablespoons, or close enough." She forced a smile and turned to face her sister.

"You sure I can't help?" Susan sipped her wine while observing the perfectly laid out rows of cut vegetables and chicken. She felt a stab of guilt at her less than tidy approach to cooking, or anything.

"No, don't worry; this'll be ready in a min...” Her words trailed off as James moved around in the adjacent family room. She absently turned and scooped the pile of vegetables into her hands and dropped them into the pan. She jumped back and grimaced as the pan sizzled and a drop of oil landed on the back of her hand.

"Are you okay?" Susan sat her wine on the counter and rushed to her sister. She grabbed the hand and surveyed the damage - a small red patch was immediately visible.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay." Cathy mumbled while slowly pulling her hand from Susan's hold and gently rubbed it while watching her husband fumble with something in the corner.

"Is he okay?" Susan couldn't hold back the question any longer. The normally friendly James had barely recognized her arrival, and his disheveled appearance was a sharp contrast to his usual neatness. She had noticed papers, books, and more scattered around his office when she greeted him. The one thing she couldn't forget was the faraway look in his eyes when he did finally notice her standing in the doorway of his office. His empty stare had pushed her away and up to the kitchen.

"I really don't know, but honestly I don't think so." Cathy looked down at the place on her hand but didn't see it. Her mind drifted to the past when his behavior had taken such turns. She remembered the time he disappeared for three days and she tried to forget the incident with the gun. She knew a few days with the doctor and her old James would return and treat her like a queen. Nobody had ever made her feel as good as he did, but then again these bad times were unmatched as well.

"Oh, did something happen?" Susan's mind recalled her own memories of his previous troubles - at least, the ones she knew about. His disappearance for a few days two years ago had been her introduction to his problems, but she never believed the diagnosis. She, and the rest of the family, assumed he had another woman. After all she thought, we all have our crazy moments but we don't act like him.

"Not yet, but I can tell, the warning signs are there. It is something to get to know after a while, you know what I mean?" She knew her sister had no clue about it or anything else. She had never seen him lying on the floor in a fetal position crying. She had never seen him sit at his desk and do nothing all the while trying to will himself to get better. No, she had never told her those stories, or the one with the gun that still made her shudder. She knew her family belittled him, and she regretted telling them anything.

"Yeah, I guess so." Susan leaned back against the counter. She drained her wine glass and turned for the bottle when she was startled by the sound of the smoke alarm. The glass shattered against the wood floor as she watched her sister pull the pan from the stove.

"Shit, it looks like we'll be ordering a pizza." She grabbed the pan, swung open the back door and tossed it into the tall green grass. She held the door open and rocked it back and forth as smoke rolled into the night air.

"Oh, I'm sorry; I should've been watching it." Susan felt a sting of guilt as she knew this could have been avoided with her help. She turned on the ceiling fan and joined her sister on the back porch.

"Look at this yard." Cathy motioned to the tall grass while dropping her small body in a metal chair. "He usually takes such good care of everything, it is just another sign."

"Yeah, the yard usually looks so nice." She felt like she had said the wrong thing by agreeing with her, but it did usually look good - too good as her husband like to say. In a way, she knew the family liked to see the perfect James go down. It made them feel superior since they were not crazy, or it had never been diagnosed.

"Yeah." Cathy's reply was mumbled as her mind was obviously elsewhere.

"So, what will you do?"

"Well, I'll call the doctor shortly and we'll go from there. It is best to get him to the doctor or hospital as soon as possible, before he does something dangerous." She knew she had said too much.

"Dangerous? Do you think he would hurt you?"

"No, don't be silly. I was talking about him doing something that causes him to lose his job." She waved off her sister's astonishment with a small lie. He had never done anything to her, and she never thought he would. The gun flashed in her mind and chills swept across her body.

"Are you cold? C'mon, let's go in, I think the smoke has cleared. I'll take care of the pizza if you still want to eat, and you can make your phone call." Susan stood and grabbed her sister by her shoulders and guided her into the house. They both stopped once inside as they watched James on the couch - Susan squinted to make out what was in his hand.

"James!" Cathy screamed while wriggling out of Susan's clutch and running to her husband. She dropped to her knees and slid to his side. Her fear retreated as she spotted the tweezers in his hand.

"Who the hell broke a glass?" He shook his head while pulling the shards of glass from the soft part of the foot. Cathy pulled the weapon from his hand and finished the job while telling her sister to grab some paper towels.

"Oh, it is my fault; I dropped the glass when the smoke alarm went off. I'm really sorry, I forgot about when we went outside." Susan handed the towels to her sister while staring at the large butcher knife in his other hand. She felt the sweat on her neck as his hand maintained a grip on its wooden handle.

"What's with the knife?" Cathy pulled the last visible piece from his food and patted it with the towel. She remembered what she had seen and turned and pulled the knife from his hand.

"Oh, I thought I might need to push the pieces out." He leaned back on the sofa as his wife laid his foot on a towel covered spot on the coffee table. She flipped on the television to ESPN and told him to watch as they ordered the food.

"What the hell was this for?" Susan now had the knife and she waved it randomly while waiting for a response from her sister.

"He said it was for the foot." She fumbled in her purse without looking up. Finally, she found the paper with the number. She grabbed her cell phone and returned to the deck to make the call while her sister nervously talked to her brother-in-law - mostly about what kind of pizza he would prefer. She had the sudden urge to run; she wanted to go home to the insanity of her own home.

Lunch

"I hope she doesn't show up today. She is so disgusting." Joseph propped his feet on the small filing cabinet while leaning back in his chair. He stared at her empty cube diagonally from his own.

"What? She'll be here, she said so yesterday." I felt awkward disagreeing with my friend, but I saw no problems with her - she was different, not like the rest of the drones.

"Did you see what she wore yesterday? God, it was disgusting."

"It was just jeans, yeah it was jeans and a t-shirt, right?" I was sort of mumbling while responding as I reflected - I looked over at Joseph in his jeans and shirt.

"Yeah, her mom jeans, her hair pulled back, looked like a dude, disgusting."

"Oh," I didn't know what to say. She had looked fine with me, nothing out of the ordinary. I turned and watched him from behind as he logged on his workstation. I began to ponder the source of his anger, the source of his resentment.

"I bet she pulls her hair back like that when she sucks him off." He laughed loudly before acting ashamed while looking around to see if others had overheard.

"Nice, suck the chrome off of a bumper." I immediately felt a stab of shame as I had fallen into man mode while making a joke.

"Disgusting, her vag probably drags the ground. She's disgusting."

"Geez, easy." I regretted it as soon as I said it. Joseph swiveled and eyeballed me. There was a long silence before he laughed and returned to his computer.

"When she shows, we're not going to lunch, she's not going with us."

"Ah, she usually brings her lunch anyway." I didn't loathe having lunch with her, she always had interesting conversation while Joseph said the same things over and over - none interesting outside the discussion of who we'd like to fuck.

"You see the way she always looks at us, wants us, wants to go with us, not this time."

"Well, we can't, well, it'll be fine." It all makes sense as I scroll through emails, something happened with them as they were chatty only a couple weeks prior.

Say what?

"Is this it?" I stand and stare down a dark sidewalk leading to an even darker porch and loudly ask myself the question.

I hesitate, looking to my left and right, searching for a sign of where I should go. I glance down at the address scribbled on the yellow post-it note in my hand - it matches the numbers to the left of the front door so I casually walk down the sidewalk, up the stairs and gently knock on the door.

"Where have you been?" Familiar faces greet me as the door swings open and the house swallows me leaving the darkness undisturbed.

"Sorry, I'm not familiar with this neighborhood. You'd think there would be a porch light or something, an open door? Geez." I roll my eyes, looking at the owner and back at the door. We don't like each other. I turn and chat with Hugh, my co-conspirator in the office.

"Get a load of Jen's dress." Hugh nudges me as he eyeballs the body in the low-cut, black revealing dress. His fascination with Jen is no secret, not even to Jen. The way he stares is embarrassing, so I steer the conversation to his wife.

"Kim didn't come with you?" I know the answer, but I am just trying to right the ship.

"Hey you, we figured you would not show." Emily slides between us and obviously has been drinking.

"I said I was coming, here I am."

"You say a lot of things." She stands with an uneasy grin.

"Hey, what are you guys talking about? Have you seen the movie?" Margie saves me from answering the grin.

"Nothing, yeah I saw it long ago, but I've never really been a fan like you guys." I'm trying to remember the plot and characters from The Big Lebowski.

"The Dude!!!!" They all chant, nearing a scream as I stare.

"That rug really ties the room together." Hugh points a the area rug and they all laugh uncontrollably - Hugh is obviously proud of his remark, but I am lost.

"Why don't you ever go to lunch with us? You're so antisocial." Emily returns the gaze in my direction.

"I've gone a few times. I dunno sometimes I have stuff to do."

"I guess, but you never really seem to be with us."

"With you? You're so unapproachable, so not sure what I'd say."

"Unapproachable? What the fuck? What does that even mean?" She takes a step back as her voice rises. All attention focuses on me as I pivot from foot to foot.

"You know, just closed off, you don't say much, that's all I meant." I regret ever showing up.

"I'll show you unapproachable."

She is in my space before I can react. I taste the lipstick as her tongue parts my lips, her hand grabs the back of my neck. I am stunned, laughter fills the room as she steps back and bows. They clap as I contemplate tasting the lipstick again. She shoots me a knowing glance as she turns and plops on the couch as the movie begins.

Everything must go

It is an overcast day as the threat of rain looms. I am apprehensive as we approach the  house - it is only a few blocks from our own. A middle age blonde sits behind a card table to the right as we step into the garage. Tools from many years of gardening rest against the back wall: hoe, shovel, spade, rake, hedge trimmers .... $5, $4, $6, $8, $12. How do you decide what to charge for a used shovel? Shovels don't wear out, they rust but this one has no rust. They do need some care, sharpening, and so forth. Do you visit the nearest hardware store and gather prices for comparable tools? Do you search ebay? Is there a blue book price guide for gardening tools?

"I can let you have that for three if you really want it. It has a lot of life left in it." The blonde has snuck up behind me - only a couple feet away as I turn to meet her frantic gaze.

"Ah, oh, uhm, well, I appreciate it, just looking, I think we have plenty." I quickly replace the shovel where I found it. 

I suddenly feel like I made a mistake - like I did something wrong. She notices the odd look on my face and returns to her table. 

I wonder her connection to this house, to this stuff. Is there her relatives? Parents? 

"These picture frames are still in the package." She beams while showing me the treasures discovered inside the house. I want to run.

"Nice, anything else in there?" I motion towards the inside of the house with one hand while my feet step to the garage door opening - to freedom.

"Some dishes and coats, nothing we need, lots of old stuff. You want to look around?" She motions to the blonde with the frames.

"Nah, I'm good." I feel ill, I really do want to run and I want nothing to do with the contents of the house. They are watching, I know it, I feel it.

I slowly return to the car as she chats with the blonde before making her purchase. 

The slamming of the passenger door jars me from a stupor. My head is covered in sweat - it is humid, but not that hot. 

"Are you okay?" She leans in and touches my shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good. " I collect myself while turning the key as the truck roars to life.

"You're paler than usual, is it the heat? You want me to drive?" 

"No, anywhere else you need to go?" I navigate the side streets with home the destination.

"Nah, let's head home."

"I'm not going to another one of these." I finally reveal the decision just reached.

"What? Okay, you don't like these sales? You can find some good stuff sometimes, some of it dirt cheap." 

"I don't care. I'll pay full price anywhere, I'm not going to any more estate sales. I feel like a grave robber. That's how life ends? All of our stuff laid out and marked with price stickers - going to highest bidder and the rest discarded. It's horrible."

"Okay, calm down, you can stay home next time." She surveys the frames while mumbling about putting baby pictures in them.

Tin bucket

I glance into the rearview mirror and watch the bills disappear into the night. The bills flow like a trail of smoke from the car. A quick mental checklist reassures me that we have them all.

“Wait, only the hundreds!” I shout while grabbing her arm before the stack of twenties disappears through the sunroof.

The car jerks to the right before I return my full attention to the wheel. She falls into my lap as we swerve to the left and then the right again as I regain control. I wonder if the reports detailing the tendency of SUVs to roll over are true and quickly decide no.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell is your problem?” The car shakes as she shoves away from me and regains her kneeling perch in the passenger seat. The hairs on my neck stand tall as I steal a glance and notice the wild look in her eyes.

“Sorry, but those are real, just get rid of the hundreds.”

“Oh,” she slowly rubs the twenties with her thumb while looking back and forth between them and the hundreds. She leans against the dash and pulls the duffel bag into her lap.

“Are there more?” She speaks into the bag while rifling through the numerous bundles.

“A couple, so be careful, just take them out and dump the rest.”

“Why the hell did you mix’m up? Jesus, you’re such an idiot.”

“Yeah, like I had a lot of time to plan and pack after getting that call.” I calculate how quickly I could get to the door and shove her out. I’m afraid she’d survive the fall and sing like a bird. I’ll take care of her later.

“Whatever,” she mutters as I glance at the bundle of twenties on the floorboard. She laughs uncontrollably while removing the rubber bands from the hundreds. She pokes a stack through opening and slowly releases the bills one by one.

I wonder how quickly they will be discovered. There are better ways to be rid of them, but nothing quicker. I convince myself that it is a necessary decision, because we can’t have them with us when we arrive.

The dashboard clock shoots four-fifteen in my direction. I smile thinking of Tommy saying the green glow of the clock resembles a devil. I wonder if I’ll ever see my son again. A loud thud breaks the trance. I put all of my weight on the brake pedal as the car screeches to a stop.

Burnt rubber fills my lungs as I step from the vehicle. The smoke slowly clears as I stand in front of the headlights and look down on a coyote as its final breath escapes. My heart races as its eyes slowly close.

“What is it?”

“Stay in the car!” I plot her out of the corner of my eye as the top half of her body protrudes from the sunroof - like the car is eating her.

“Yeah, like I’m coming out there.”

I suddenly feel exposed in the heavy night air. I’m a kid again as I scramble back to the car, slam the door and quickly lock it. The fear is unfounded, but the safety of the car is reassuring. I take a deep breath and rub my face.

“So?”

“A coyote, shit, I never saw it.” I shake my head thinking of the loss.

“Oh, big deal, they are a dime a dozen out here.”

“Yeah”

“What’s wrong with you? You act like we just hit your dog. Be a man!” She slaps my arm.

“Nothing, it’s nothing; I’m just a bit tired.”

“You want me to drive? You know, I got my license.”

“No, no, that’s okay. Thanks anyway.” The car jerks forward as I push the gas. The ride is smooth after the initial bumps.

“Are they all gone?”

“I think so.”

I jerk the bag into my lap and perform a review of its contents and follow with a quick scan of the interior.

“What, you don’t believe me?” The hurt in her voice is obvious.

“No, I mean yes, I didn’t say that, but everybody makes mistakes.”

“Yeah, you should know.”

“What the hell does that mean?” My patience is reaching its end.

“Well, I’m not the one who passed one of the bills. No, that wasn’t me.”

“Yeah, okay.” It stings.

“Jesus, what were you thinking? You know who runs that place.”

“It was an accident, okay? I thought I had one of the real ones.”

“And now we have to try to get to Mack before they do. Do you think we’ll make it?”

“Yeah. Hey, give me one of those sandwiches.” I desperately want to change the subject – there’s no need to talk about our painfully obvious situation.

She tosses a sandwich in my lap. I tear the paper away and savor the mix of bologna and cheese. It takes me back to grandma’s house - the only thing missing is the mustard.

“Hey, stop, I need to pee.”

“There’s a bucket in the back.” I motion with my hand to the back seat. I have no desire to stop again.

“What, are you insane?”

“Maybe, but just fill it up and send it into the night.”

She sits quietly while examining the tin container. She turns it in her hands before sitting it down and unbuttoning her jeans.

“Don’t look.”

I shrug as my mind wanders to her taught body in bed this morning. The thirst for her body is unquenchable. I shift at the familiar movement in my shorts. The sound of the urine hitting the tin bucket echoes through the interior as we speed through the night.

Tell me

"I am not sure I understand." The leather chair squeaked as he leaned back. He removed his glasses and held them up to the light before wiping them with his tie. He slapped them back on his face and sat very still.

"I am sorry if I was vague, but I need an answer - the sooner the better."