{"id":825,"date":"2017-02-08T21:12:05","date_gmt":"2017-02-08T21:12:05","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/?p=825"},"modified":"2025-04-21T13:40:35","modified_gmt":"2025-04-21T13:40:35","slug":"for-lack-of-a-hat-part-ii","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/index.php\/2017\/02\/08\/for-lack-of-a-hat-part-ii\/","title":{"rendered":"For Lack of a Hat Part II"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"galaxynotesept2016<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Lady takes a cursory look around the room; even without direct eye contact she can see the wrinkled faces and craning necks over the high back chairs, stretching toward her… She smiles apprehensively and backs away. She had no intention of making a spectacle of herself.\u00a0 She doesn\u2019t know where that came from. But it did.\u00a0 She was compelled. It must have been the Muzak and the waiting.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood luck all\u201d she says apologetically, slinging her bag around her shoulder.<\/p>\n

\u201cHope Mr. Jones can find his way. I\u2019d like to say it\u2019s been a pleasure, but.\u201d\u00a0 And she turns for the door.\u00a0 This is pointless, a hoax. Rude and effective. But, effective first. Fenton Jones is a genius.<\/p>\n

She glides through the hallway letting the day\u2019s events sift and fall through her head like fairy dust. She\u2019s practically floating and mentally dims each peach sconce light as she retraces her steps. Out, out, out- with her invisible wand.\u00a0 It was upside down, this; something you can\u2019t know until a thing\u2019s done; to come in through the back door and know a secret first, that\u2019s the ticket-like the way you cheat a maze.<\/p>\n

She slips past Marla Beans who is still bent over the flowers, primping and poking- one way and the other; frowning and doting.\u00a0 Lady has the urge to grab the vase and slap the woman\u2019s hands but doesn\u2019t.\u00a0 She\u2019s glad Miss Beans doesn\u2019t notice her.<\/p>\n

\u201cWait, Miss Lady.\u201d Mr. Jenkins calls after her, catching up,<\/p>\n

\u201cHow about a bite to eat? Or a coffee? I know a place.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lady looks him over. A ruddy faced man taller then she and much thinner.\u00a0 The \u201crats\u2019 ass\u201d man. No thank you kindly.<\/p>\n

\u201cI really must go. But thanks…\u201d She wriggles out of his sight and discovers the rest room.\u00a0 The room is immense- the size of a bowling alley.\u00a0 My god.\u00a0 How many stalls in here? She says aloud. Her words echo.<\/p>\n

\u201cForty, Ma\u2019am.\u201d Someone answers from behind a potted fern.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s quite a lot for a building this size, don\u2019t you think?\u201d<\/p>\n

She asks, not surprised that someone answered. Adding,<\/p>\n

\u201cWhoever you are…\u201d<\/p>\n

The man\u2019s head appears out of the fronds. He\u2019s wearing a baseball cap and green pea coat, wiping his hands on a paper towel.<\/p>\n

\u201cName\u2019s Fenton. I counted them myself when I came in. Forty stalls in all, hard to believe, and there\u2019s a locked door down at the end.\u201d He says, tossing a wad of wet paper into a basket.<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess this is unisex.\u201d Lady\u2019s voice is sour. So, this is Fenton the genius.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can leave now- if you\u2019ve finished.\u201d She says softening her tone, her confidence waning.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo problem.\u201d He says reaching for the door knob.<\/p>\n

She watches him turn the handle but nothing happens. For a moment she\u2019s distracted by the dark green wallpaper with giant orange poppies and long black stamens threaded through.\u00a0 She thinks Fenton blends in nicely with the paper and skitters to the far end of the stalls, against the wall. Mr. Jones wipes his hand on his pant leg and tries the knob again.\u00a0 It doesn\u2019t budge. He turns and shrugs.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you kidding me?\u201d Lady drops her handbag and leans back. She cracks her gum and the sound is swallowed by the hum of the fluorescent lights. It\u2019s like being in a tin can tapped with a fork. It makes her teeth hurt.<\/p>\n

They stand looking at each other from across the room and the door opens.<\/p>\n

And closes.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo!\u201d Fenton Jones turns in disbelief as Mr. Jenkins saunters past, waving at Lady and pushing into a stall.<\/p>\n

Lady laughs. \u201cThis is rid…\u201d she starts, and then the door squeaks open and slams shut behind Delia May and Mrs. Leeds.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, hello dear.\u201d Mrs. Leeds addresses Lady who is still leaning against the far wall- between the rows of stalls.<\/p>\n

Lady simply nods. This is like a bad dream where nothing happens and you can\u2019t wake up.<\/p>\n

\u201cAh we having the meeting in heeya, Mr. Fenton?\u201d Delia May asks, drifting to the sinks.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd will you look<\/em> at this wallpaper?\u201d She glows, pulling a comb from her bag.<\/p>\n

There\u2019s a loud knock on the door from the outside.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho\u2019s there?\u201d Mr. Fenton is closest to the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s Miss Beans! Let me in!\u201d She\u2019s yelling.<\/p>\n

Fenton tries the knob again but it\u2019s no go.<\/p>\n

\u201cLook here, Miss Beans, we\u2019re locked in. Can\u2019t you open it?\u201d<\/p>\n

The handle jiggles.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt won\u2019t turn. Maybe the tumblers have fallen.\u201d\u00a0 Miss Beans shouts.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s your<\/em> tumblers that have fallen, Miss Beans\u201d Lady can\u2019t stop the words; the buzz-hum of the lights has made her mouth numb and uncooperative. She walks toward the door, her heels click clicking on the tiles. She checks her hair midway, by the sinks, with just a casual turn of the head. She feels good. Delia May gives a two finger wave into the mirror- applying eyeliner.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m going to be the head clerk. The thought plants itself in Lady\u2019s head. The moment we leave this room, I\u2019m going to speak to someone in charge. Oh that\u2019s funny. She feels as bright and large as the poppies.<\/p>\n

Fenton is seated near the door in the small lounge area with the overstuffed chairs and potted ferns. He wonders why they have these sitting areas in bathrooms- although, he guesses, if you\u2019re waiting for the Pepto to kick in its useful. Or if you\u2019re locked in. He checks his calendar for the next lecture date and place.\u00a0 He makes good money with no effort.\u00a0\u00a0 It was a scheme derived quite by accident. Taking charge was taking charge of him. And it was working.<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Jones,\u201d Lady sits beside him.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you have a paper clip?\u201d Her eyes scour a wooden table littered with magazines- they\u2019re fanned out so you can read the titles; Paranormal<\/em>, Edinburgh<\/em>, Alfred Hitchcock<\/em>, Ghost Hunters<\/em> and Mad <\/em>comic.\u00a0 How odd.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat will you do with a paperclip? You can\u2019t pick the lock with that.\u201d He frowns but hands her a paperclip from his jacket pocket.<\/p>\n

\u201cI can and I will. It can be done with gum and a paperclip- go ahead and u-tube it.\u201d She says confidently, loading her mouth with Doublemint sticks.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s no Wi-Fi in here- or reception, I tried my phone already.\u201d Fenton grunts into his chest, watching her chew out of the corner of his eye.<\/p>\n

The smell of the mint gum makes him nauseas. He needs to throw water on his face.<\/p>\n

The door is suddenly pummeled from the other side.<\/p>\n

\u201cMiss Beans?\u201d Lady calls out.<\/p>\n

A picture of the building labeled Johnson House circa 1810 falls from its hook on the wall and tumbles to the floor.\u00a0 It lands at Lady\u2019s feet; she picks it up and holds it.<\/p>\n

The pummeling gets louder and more intense. Now the pounding of a wrench on the pipes. Clanking, clanking. The lights flicker (how could they not?) and the faucets begin to drip.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy word!\u201d Delia May misses her eye and draws a black line straight down her cheek.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s all the commotion?\u201d<\/p>\n

Suddenly the toilets flush. All of them.\u00a0 Mr. Jenkins bolts out of his stall, grabbing at his pants and buttoning up.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s doing this?\u201d He looks around for an explanation.<\/p>\n

Lady looks at the picture in her lap- it\u2019s a black and white photograph; a three story building, with lace curtained windows and faces that peer out. One of the faces winks at her from behind a curtain.\u00a0 She doesn\u2019t notice right away but one of the windows is open and the curtain has blown inside; sucked in. The front door is wide open; also blown in by the wind. Lady strokes the frame and feels a rumbling at her feet. The bathroom begins to shake from its core; flushing toilets and dripping faucets echo throughout.\u00a0 A metallic drone of fluorescent tube lights hum and the black stamens race for the door. It blows open.\u00a0 By itself. Slammed against the orange poppies that wince and shrink back into the green.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cHere you go.\u201d Lady sighs and hands Mr. Jones the paper clip.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t need it now.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mr. Jones shakes his head and his hat slips off rolling onto the tiles.<\/p>\n

\u201cThese old houses are drafty.\u201d Lady assures him and walks out.<\/p>\n

She collects her thoughts and marches to the front desk where Marla Beans is waiting.<\/p>\n

Marla Beans looks up and hands Lady the vase of mums and her badge.<\/p>\n

Lady looks at the flowers, gives the vase a turn and gently sets them down. \u201cThere,\u201d she smiles at Miss Beans and takes her place behind the desk.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s lovely.\u201d<\/p>\n

The wind feels good on her neck, and the cold rush of air combing through her hair is refreshing. Mr. Jones\u2019 hat comes spiraling into the street and is scooped up.\u00a0 It lands, teetering on a tree limb.<\/p>\n

Marla Beans turns and looks up at the lace curtained window on the third floor. And waves goodbye.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

    Lady takes a cursory look around the room; even without direct eye contact she can see the wrinkled faces and craning necks over the high back chairs, stretching toward her… She smiles apprehensively and backs away. She had no intention of making a spectacle of herself.\u00a0 She doesn\u2019t know where that came from. … Continue reading For Lack of a Hat Part II<\/span> →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":true,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[15],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-825","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-short-story"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p7zCq3-dj","jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":666,"url":"http:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/index.php\/2016\/11\/21\/for-lack-of-a-hat-part-i\/","url_meta":{"origin":825,"position":0},"title":"For Lack of a Hat- Part I","author":"L Dewender","date":"November 21, 2016","format":false,"excerpt":"\u00a0 It\u2019s an old building, a refurbished hotel - circa 1800\u2019s. It must have been quite the place back when. It\u2019s a good day to duck in for a lecture; the autumn leaves are rushing around the trees like dirt devils.\u00a0 It\u2019s blustery and grey. Lady pushes on the door\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Short Story"","block_context":{"text":"Short Story","link":"http:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/index.php\/category\/contents\/submissions\/short-story\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"galaxynotesept2016-110","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/11\/galaxynotesept2016-110-809x1024.jpg?resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":641,"url":"http:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/index.php\/2016\/11\/17\/she-fled-him-down-the-days\/","url_meta":{"origin":825,"position":1},"title":"SHE FLED HIM DOWN THE DAYS","author":"James Crafford","date":"November 17, 2016","format":false,"excerpt":"(with a nod to Francis Thompson)\u00a0 \u00a0 She ran She fled \u00a0 He was Maleness to her He was Strength He was deep sexual Lust \u00a0 She ran from him She rented a cottage near Misquamicut Beach* And stayed there the entire off season \u00a0 He was Intellect to her\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Poetry"","block_context":{"text":"Poetry","link":"http:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/index.php\/category\/poetry\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/11\/nov162016-485.jpg?resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/11\/nov162016-485.jpg?resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/11\/nov162016-485.jpg?resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/11\/nov162016-485.jpg?resize=700%2C400 2x"},"classes":[]},{"id":1028,"url":"http:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/index.php\/2019\/04\/27\/for-lack-of-a-hat-part-iii\/","url_meta":{"origin":825,"position":2},"title":"For Lack of a Hat Part III","author":"L Dewender","date":"April 27, 2019","format":false,"excerpt":"\u00a0 Lady feels liberated. She glides through the hallway.\u00a0 The day\u2019s events sift and fall through her head like fairy dust.\u00a0 Blue carpeting ripples under foot like a rising tide. She rides it like a wave while grasping at green papered walls; its texture, wrinkled like old skin, supple and\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Prose"","block_context":{"text":"Prose","link":"http:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/index.php\/category\/prose\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"10292017 galaxy 079","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/10\/10292017-galaxy-079-1024x681.jpg?resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":1163,"url":"http:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/index.php\/2019\/10\/21\/witchcraft-a-vignette\/","url_meta":{"origin":825,"position":3},"title":"Witchcraft- A vignette","author":"James Crafford","date":"October 21, 2019","format":false,"excerpt":"The characters: A young girl of about twenty. A pastor of about fifty. SETTING: We are in colonial Massachusetts circa 1690. AT RISE: The young girl bounds on to the stage running in horrified grief. She wails and cries, howls and trembles, screams into the air and then slowly composes\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Play"","block_context":{"text":"Play","link":"http:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/index.php\/category\/play\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"Note9 Pics 908","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/10\/Note9-Pics-908-300x216.jpg?resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":467,"url":"http:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/index.php\/2016\/08\/04\/not-what-it-seems\/","url_meta":{"origin":825,"position":4},"title":"Not What It Seems","author":"Jeff Ginsburg","date":"August 4, 2016","format":false,"excerpt":"\u201cEthan, it\u2019s Delilah.\u201d \u201cHi Delilah. I\u2019m almost there.\u00a0 Are you?\u201d I ask as I walk briskly through the cold winter night. \u201cI\u2019m gonna be late. \u00a0Don\u2019t worry my friend Rachel will be there.\u201d \u201cI thought it would be an evening of just you and me.\u201d I reply. \u201cHa ha.\u201d\u00a0 She\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Fiction"","block_context":{"text":"Fiction","link":"http:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/index.php\/category\/fiction\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"googSquareC","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/07\/googSquareC-300x284.jpg?resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":320,"url":"http:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/index.php\/2016\/07\/23\/what-happened-out-back\/","url_meta":{"origin":825,"position":5},"title":"What Happened Out Back- Part 1","author":"Kathy Follett","date":"July 23, 2016","format":false,"excerpt":"\u00a0The South Onnamaqua police rescue team responding to a call on September 8 discovered a local resident up to her neck in what was described as wet mulch after an accident on her property at 11 Breakfront St.\u00a0 Sheila Redmond (47) said she had\u00a0been hosing leaves off her barn when\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Fiction"","block_context":{"text":"Fiction","link":"http:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/index.php\/category\/fiction\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/07\/studioandroid7142016-035.jpg?resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/07\/studioandroid7142016-035.jpg?resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/07\/studioandroid7142016-035.jpg?resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/07\/studioandroid7142016-035.jpg?resize=700%2C400 2x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/07\/studioandroid7142016-035.jpg?resize=1050%2C600 3x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/07\/studioandroid7142016-035.jpg?resize=1400%2C800 4x"},"classes":[]}],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/825","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=825"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"http:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/825\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":857,"href":"http:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/825\/revisions\/857"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=825"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=825"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/wordpress.talesfromthelake.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=825"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}