Unexpected Turns

  One of the many adages that my mother taught me as a child was to expect the unexpected. It was her way of making it clear to her daughters that life is unpredictable. We should not be surprised when it throws us a curve ball.

In previous posts, I have talked about being a widow and going through periods of grief, change, sadness, growth, and loneliness with more bits of change mixed in here and there. In 2018, I was reminded of another adage my mother has always used, “Never say never again.” Last year will always be the year that I added poetry to my list of writing genres.

  Poetry and I have never been close. I look at things at bit differently than most people, poetry became evil to me as a child when my interpretations of elements and symbolism used in great poetry were never what the teacher wanted to hear nor were they deemed acceptable as an answer. I read poetry, learned about poetry, and interpreted poetry for one reason and one reason only, because it was required of me. I befriended others who loved poetry and admired their skill with understanding and creating it but in the words of Austin Powers and yes I use them a lot, poetry wasn’t my bag Baby. It still wasn’t my bag when after having exhausted my woes of being a widow through journal writing that I began exploring other mediums. I managed to squeak one out every now and then. As I explored various aspects here and there more poems came squeaking out.

  One night, after a terrible work day, I did something that I had not done in a while, I wrote one that followed specific guidelines. It was an exercise. I was a nervous wreck that night. It seemed like a better option than other coping mechanisms that people typically use. The poems were being collected to wish someone well, I love turning negatives into positives, what could be better?

  “Meet Me In Morocco” was a romantic homage to the film “Casablanca.” I was pleased with how it turned out. I have to admit that there is a part of me that will always feel like I was meant to write it for some unexplained reason. A copy of it hangs in my living room to this day.

  Several weeks later, I got down with some rainy day blues. It was the first bad weather weekend of the fall and I was not ready for it. I wrote several more poems. Sad, lonely, dark poetry that was filled with despair. While reading them over, I realized that I had been writing similar poems for quite some time. I took a look back at the files on my computer. If there was a more unexpected turn for me in my writing life I couldn’t begin to say what it would be.

It occurred to me there could be enough poems to publish a small volume of work some day. Why would I do that? Then I thought to myself, “why not?” I had done this much writing. I have nothing to lose. So I added another project in progress to my “Under Construction” list.

  I do have a couple of challenges ahead of me. First and foremost, the title piece. I tend to title books when they're in their infancy as a result, “Wild Card” was born. I decided that I want the book to be a volume of poetry that will begin with a dark sadness to it, I am also determined that no matter what, it has to have a happy ending. The poems at the end of the book are going to be poems of love, joy, happiness, and hope. 

  In recent weeks, when I wanted to dip a toe into writing without staying long, I would draft out a poem.

   My last two poems have been closer to the positive end of the spectrum. I have several more happy poems that need to be added in coming months. As for “Wild Card” well, there are stirrings of what that poem might be cooking in my brain as I am typing this.

  Remember, adages are adages for a reason. “Never say never again,” because you might just find that never again comes all too soon.

The Order of Operations

Pen took the lead and headed for the door to the stairs. Scotch assumed the decision had to do with the pint that she was carrying and followed, nodding to the security guard in his bouncer attire.

Scotch stopped when he noticed Pen headed down the back stairs. “Where are you going?”

“Downstairs.”

“We’re meeting with McLeod.” Scotch said.

“Yes, I know.” Pen agreed. “In the conference room.”

“The conference rooms are upstairs.”

“Not all of them.” She said as she continued to the basement.

“That’s true.” Scotch said, as he fell into step next to Pen. “It’s only used for meetings regarding the most highly classified missions.”

“I know.”

“Our mission was standard low tier work. A simple task. No physical threat. It was a babysitting job.”

Pen stepped down on to the landing in front of her. “Babysitting?” She asked raising a brow.

“It was a basic run of the mill mission. Nothing about it was marked classified.”

“Meaning?”

“What happened does not belong in that conference room.”

One side of Pen’s mouth turned up in a smile. “Are you sure?” She asked as she continued down the stairs. “Is it possible that you were wrong about leaving the target the way that you did? You’re looking a little nervous.”

Scotch followed, sped up and stopped in front of Pen at the base of the stairs. “I have been doing this job for nearly tw...for a long time. The only reason anyone goes into that conference room...” he said pointing to a door across the hallway, “...is because something serious is going on.”

Pen took a sip of her stout and smiled. “Then relax, it probably means we’re getting an upgrade.”

Scotch does not respond.

“You’re tired of babysitting me aren’t you? Let’s go see what Mr. McLeod wants.” Pen responded. “Excuse me.” She skirted around her escort and crossed the hall, leading the way outside of her usual lab setting for the first time since primary school.

Mr. McLeod was waiting for them in the conference room. He rose from his chair, greeting both warmly. “Scotch. I see that Clive passed along my message. Thank you both for meeting me here.” He turned to Pen. “Agent Pen. Lovely to finally meet you. How are you getting on with your escort?”Mr. McLeod was of average height. He wore formal attire, had a professional demeanor and a friendly smile.

Pen looked at Scotch. “Okay so far.”

Scotch studied the Head of Operations. He knew all of Mr. McLeod's various moods and approaches to engaging with his agents. But this level of affability and warmth was a new one. “What’s going on?” Scotch asked.

“Scotch, I can always count on you to get to the point quickly.” Mr. McLeod looked at Pen. “He is quite the straight shooter as you Americans call it, isn’t he?”

Pen looked at Scotch and thought for a moment before she answered. “Yes and a bit of player as well.”

“He hasn’t?” Mr. McLeod asked.

“No, not that kind of player. I’m sure he does that from time to time as well but in this instance I think that I chose the wrong word. A bit of a...gambler?”

“Ah yes. That too.” He agreed smiling. “It looks like she knows you fairly well already.” Mr. McLeod leaned in and whispered to Pen, “It takes people much longer generally, especially the ladies.” Pen nodded. “Do sit down.”

“I appreciate you both agreeing to meet with me down here. There was a bit of a mishap in the computer lab and all of the activities in the conference rooms are being broadcast on desktops across the office. It’s a bit of mess up there.”

“You seem relaxed about the breach.” Scotch pointed out. “Twenty years ago you would have been alternately firing people and tearing at your hair.”

“I have twenty years’ experience with computers and how they work within this agency. We were able verify that the problems are contained within a small area of the system and originated from the computer lab. Gunny was able to identify the author of the program almost immediately, she is in confinement until everything is under control.”

“It wasn’t an attack?” Scotch asked.

“No. The young lady offered to assist with undoing her mistake. She’s working on her coding in one of the interrogation rooms now. Gunny will be checking over her changes and make the final decision as to whether to her corrections should be used.”

“So...Agent Pen what can we help you with?” Mr. McLeod asked.

He caught Pen drinking her stout as Scotch caught Pen’s eyes.

Pen nearly choked when his eyes met hers. The warmth that had been there earlier was gone. Only two words crossed her mind. Oh shit. “Well...um...”

“It’s okay to discuss any concerns that you are having Agent Pen.” Mr. McLeod said. “We’re all friends here.”

Pen reminded herself that if she was confident enough to reach out to Head of Operations like she had earlier, she needed to be confident enough to follow through. “I wanted to be sure that you knew there was a problem with last night’s mission.”

“No there wasn’t.” Scotch countered.

“Yes. There was.” Pen responded.

“We would have addressed that after your and Agent Scotch’s reports had been filed and reviewed per Corporate directives.” Mr. McLeod said, ignoring both declarations. “Wasn’t this outlined in your training?”

“No.”

“She didn’t go through the training.” Scotch added.

Mr. McLeod looked at Pen.

“I was fast tracked into the agency.” She explained.

“Ah yes. The Fast Track Program for our Special Consultants. I have always liked that program. Surely there were similar directives with your prior agency.”

“No. I’m not your typical consultant.”

“She’s a chemist.” Scotch explained. “You didn’t know that you were bringing a chemist who only had experience working in the private sector into the agency?”

“I glanced over her file. Everything appeared to be in order.”

Scotch looked at the Head of Operations with an eyebrow raised then looked at Pen. His eyes had changed back to something less ominous.

*This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.