Written By: carolmoye - Sep• 09•13

I am trying to reign in/channel all of my creative energy. I tried months ago, and for a while it worked. Mondays are short story writing days. I haven’t written any stories in months. It’s time to get back on track.  I don’t totally want to give this away, so here’s the beginning of the story I worked on today. It’s title for now it “Kiki”. I may change it later.


I hadn’t seen him in years and now here he was sitting at my desk asking me for help. It’s not that it’s unusual for someone to come to me for help. It’s what I do.

My name is Henry J. White. My specialty is helping people find lost pets. It’s my retirement gig. I used to be a police officer. After retiring, I wanted to use my training in a way that was far less dangerous and stressful. I am not worried about the money. I just like to help people. My office is right under my rather modest apartment. I own the building. It’s nothing fancy. Just enough space in a safe neighborhood; what I need, nothing more.  I earn just enough money for food, utilities, and a bit of travel money. I get most of my clothes from the thrift store and drive a 2007 Nissan Versa that I paid for when I was still working.  Like I said, I don’t need much money, so I don’t hustle much for clients. Most of my clients can’t pay much. I get more from seeing their smiles when I’m lucky enough to find Fifi or Fido.

My new client, it turns out was someone I almost went out with once.  He almost asked me. I almost said, “Yes”. It was 1975. We went to the same high school. He was on the football team, very handsome, popular, muscular, and had an alluring smile, dimples and all. Who wouldn’t want to go out with him?

We were both interested in that first date, but afraid our parents wouldn’t understand or approve, we both walked away with one awkward question dangling in the air.  Actually, it wasn’t even a question, it was more like a statement. “I would ask you out, but you would probably say no”. What do you say when someone does that? I sure didn’t know how to respond, so I didn’t.  He might have been right, I just don’t know.

Oh wait! You are probably thinking I am gay, aren’t you?  Guess I forgot to mention one more important detail. My full name is Henrietta Joanne. I hate that name. I shortened it to Henry J. That gives me some advantage. People assume that I am a man, and cannot identify my race, so I sometimes get in doors that may otherwise be closed. By the time they meet me, I have at least gotten the opportunity to impress in other ways.  The dilemma with Todd and I was racial. He is white. I am black. It’s that simple.  In 1975 I will admit that I wasn’t particularly interested in interracial dating, and neither  was Todd. Yet, there was a spark that surprised us both.

Todd has aged remarkably well. Hope he sees the same when he looks at me. He maintained his muscular body really well. Somehow he still has a full head of blond hair. And that smile! I love a man with dimples! I am melting as he speaks, but I try to appear unemotional. I doubt it’s really working, but I try.

Todd had a pet spider monkey named Kiki. He went away for the weekend, leaving his sixteen year old niece to house sit. Apparently, she isn’t the most attentive person in the world. Somehow Kiki escaped. His niece, Stephanie, has no idea how that happened.

Todd and I stepped into his BMW convertible and headed to his place. I am praying he doesn’t notice my ogling the car and him. I love convertibles. I don’t care much which model, as long as the top drops, I’m happy. Someday I may squeeze my nickels together and get one of my own.

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