Taking Stick Literary Journal Vol 33

Steve and Dean had stories workshopped by the group accepted for publication in the Talking Stick Literary Journal Vol 33 and read at the Book Release Party at the Jack Pines Resort September 14, 2024.  They would like to thank the Jack Pines Writers Bloc for publishing the Talking Stick Series and providing Minnesota Writers a place to show their work.

The Singles Book Club

Dean Eisfelder

First Published in the Talking Stick Literary Journal Vol. 33

Bob had just settled into his lazy boy recliner for another evening of beer, stale potato chips, and streaming TV reruns when his phone rang. Damn! Even before he answered he knew who was calling.

“Hello mom.”

“Hi Bob. I signed you up for a book club. They meet 10 AM Saturday at the community center.”

“You did what? Why didn’t you ask me first?

“Because I thought you needed a little push. You’ve been on the sidelines long enough. You need to take a few deep breaths and get back in the game. Don’t let the past continue to haunt you and don’t waste another minute pining for Ashley. Start looking for your real dream girl.

Bob knew his mom was right. Six months ago, his 5-year relationship with Ashley had abruptly ended. He had finally proposed to her but instead of accepting, Ashley had dumped him. Within two months she was engaged to some guy she met in a bar. Emotionally, Bob was just treading water.

“But why a book club?” asked Bob.

“Because Irene says you can meet some nice people there, maybe even a nice girl.”

For years Bob’s mother had taken advice from her friend Irene, who specialized in solving other people’s problems, especially if it involved their love life.

“If I go this one time, will you stop bugging me. I’m thirty-five and perfectly capable of finding a girlfriend without Irene’s help.”

“Maybe you’ll meet someone who is interested in more than just books.”

“Good bye mother. And please, don’t sign me up for anything else.”

“Yes dear, have a good time at the book club.”

Bob knew it was just another scheme to get him dating again. In the months since his breakup with Ashley, Bob had not been on a single date.

On Saturday, Bob drove to the community center and took a seat at a long table where several nicely-dressed men and women were already sitting. Before he could ask what the deal was, an attractive woman, whom Bob guessed was in her mid-thirties, arrived.

“Hi everyone, I’m Lynda and I’m the facilitator for the book club. If everyone is ready, let’s get started.”

Lynda sat down at the head of the table and Bob glanced in her direction. The first thing he noticed was Linda’s light-brown shoulder-length hair and her enticing smile which complemented her engaging brown eyes.

Lynda was wearing blue jeans and a white V-necked knit top with front buttons. She’d left the top two buttons unfastened and Bob’s eyes immediately focused on her cleavage which left very little to the imagination.

“It seems we have some new people here today,” said Lynda. “Why don’t we go around the room and introduce ourselves. Also, tell me something about yourself.”

As the participants gave their names, Bob couldn’t stop thinking about the hidden delights partially exposed by Lynda’s low-cut top.

When it was his turn, Bob tried to be cool. “Bob Thompson here. I’m a mechanical engineer and I work for Northland Cookware. We don’t just make PANS; we make Pretty Amazing New Stuff.” It was supposed to be a joke but it aroused only a few muffled groans.

During the introductions, Bob had avoided looking in Lynda’s direction. So, he wasn’t really listening when she directed her first question at him.

“Well Bob, what do you think of my boobs?”

“What?”

“My books Bob, what do you think of my books.”

While people were introducing themselves, Linda had set up an exhibit featuring an assortment of novels with very erotic front covers.

“Well, I see you have some great ti.” Good Lord, Bob realized he had almost said tits.

“Uh, what I meant to say was, I see you have some….… very interesting titles. That’s an amazing display……. of books I mean.” Bob instantly regretted his choice of words which oddly enough, Lynda seemed to find amusing.

“Thanks Bob. During the year I hope we can explore the delectable goodies concealed behind these provocative and tantalizing covers.” Was it Bob’s imagination or was the room getting warmer.

Lynda led a discussion of the book that had been selected for the meeting. It was a mystery/romance novel about a private detective that spent most of his time scheduling romantic rendezvous with his female clients. The book was titled: The Tryst of a Knife.

When the meeting ended, Bob headed out the door hoping to avoid further embarrassment. Just as he reached his car, he felt a tap on his shoulder. When he turned, he saw it was Lynda.

“Hi Bob, I wanted to ask you what you thought of my presentation?”

“I found it quite uh….. stimulating.”

“Glad you liked it. I don’t know if anyone mentioned it but this is a singles book club and if so inclined, members are encouraged to connect. So, how would you like to grab a cup?”

“Grab what?”

“A cup of coffee, Bob. There’s a coffee shop called The Blue Kettle just around the corner. Would you like to meet me there?”

“Yes, yes I would.”

“OK. See you there in five. We can discuss various…… possibilities.” This was followed by an alluring don’t-keep-the-lady-waiting look.

As Bob got into his car, he was thinking that maybe he owed his mother’s friend an apology.

In From the Cold

Steve Linstrom

First Published in the Talking Stick Literary Journal Vol. 33

From the small table in the back of the pub, the man was able to evaluate everyone in the room.  They appeared to be typical Midwesterners but as he was all too well aware, appearances didn’t mean much in this line of work.  Were any of them carrying?  Were they watching him?

He wondered what drink the woman would order.  He’d be okay with anything except that “shaken not stirred” crap.

His story began to coalesce.  It didn’t have to be complete, he’d always been adept at improvising, but it had to be substantial enough to bear a ring of truth.  She probably already surmised most of his truths. She would simply…

‘No, no, no a thousand times no,’ he thought shaking his head. He sounded like an idiot.   He was even boring himself.

What the hell had he been thinking?  God, what had he done?  Maybe he could just quietly leave now before she arrived.  The barmaid hadn’t made it over to wait on him yet.  When he was sitting alone, barmaids never made an effort to wait on him or even notice him.  And he was almost always sitting alone.

Would there be someone sitting across from him today so he could order her a drink?

With his feet, he straightened the empty chair across the little table.  No, he had to take the chance. He’d come this far.

It had started in the checkout line at the Library.  The young women in front of him was carrying two books to check out.  Peering over her shoulder, he saw the top one, “Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy.”  A woman who reads le Carré?

Without thinking or indeed, without any awareness at all, he’d leaned forward towards her shoulder and said in a low voice, “I’m meeting Smiley in ten minutes at the White Pony down the street.  Will you join us?”

She’d straightened her shoulders slightly but then stepped forward to check out.  After collecting her books at the counter, she had hesitated in front of him, her eyes focused down and to his right.  “I can be there in twenty.  Give George my regards if I miss him.”  She glanced up and he saw her eyes were hazel.  “You can call me Mary,” she’d said.

As she moved past him, he’d said, “I’ll be Richard,” barely moving his lips.

And that was it. He never looked back as he checked out his books and by the time he turned around, she was gone.

What the hell had he done?  He didn’t try to pick up women in the library.  He didn’t try to pick up women at all.  Hell, he didn’t talk to women.  Did he have the imagination to…

A hand tapped him on the shoulder.

“Mary?” he said turning around too quickly. “Mary, you made it.”

“No Dad it’s me, Amanda,” a woman said shaking her head.  “Dad… Mom’s gone.  She’s been gone for years.”

“Mary…?”

“No Dad, listen please. I’m your daughter, Amanda.  Mom died years ago.”

It was like looking through fog.  He could just make out the drab colors of the room and heard the TV blaring.  He made out her face.  Her eyes were hazel too.  “Amanda?”

“Yes Dad, yes. It’s me, Amanda.  I came to visit you.  Are you glad to see me?”

“Yes, yes of course,” he said.  He turned his head and let himself fall back into the fog.  “I’ll just wait for Mary. It won’t be much longer.”

The nurse put a pillow beside him on the couch.  “Our Richie here is a good patient, Mrs. Johnson.  He never raises his voice or complains.  He just sits quietly most of the time.”

“But he doesn’t know where he is or who I am most of the time,” Amanda said.

“Alzheimer’s is a difficult disease,” the nurse said.  “Difficult for everyone.”

Amanda stroked the hair on the back of his head.  “I’m not sure if I should be sad to be losing you or glad that you’re in a happy place.”

The man smiled.  “I’m having a Moscow Mule. Would you like one too?”

About the authors

name: Dean Eisfelder

Dean Eisfelder is a retired technical writer who spent most of his working career producing hardware, software, and process publications. He is currently a member of the Riverview Library Writers’ Group and writes mainly for personal enjoyment. His works include historical narratives, family history, personal memoirs, short stories and a mystery novel. The encouragement he received from his fellow writers has given him the confidence to pursue his interest in creative writing.

name: Steve Linstrom

Steve Linstrom received his masters degree in Literature from Minnesota State Mankato and had two novels and several short stories published in 2013-14.  He taught writing at Southwest Minnesota State University for several years before retiring to St. Paul.  He’s active in the Westside St Paul Writers Group and has reestablished his writing efforts, recently publishing a new story in the Talking Stick Literary Journal and self-publishing a book of short stories and poetry. stevelinstromwriter.com