Name Changes

 

The dawn of a new year is upon us which always causes a time of reflection mingled with the air of celebratory mirth.  Increasingly this year 2021, I have found myself in a phase of evolution, moving further away from who I once thought I was and what I allowed to impact, including the labels I chose for myself and others deemed appropriate, now looking inward and discovering more truths that need to be revealed at last, no longer hidden.  Thus, the evolution stirs a decision to formally change my identity, not just of the words attached towards me that identify but that of my business, Cafe-Girl Productions, Inc.  

As a child, I had a great love for the show, Night Court, as mentioned many, many times, at length, in a variety of capacity.  Once again, when I was a mere young thing, I wished so intensely that the actor, Harry Anderson, was in fact my father, imagining that my name was Elizabeth.  Not sure why I chose that name as a youngster, it just came to me and I claimed it.  Throughout all of my life, I have returned to Elizabeth, even presently, as I go about my day outwardly as Lia, inwardly I feel what life would be like as if I am her, as if all of my life I lived as her and not in the world I did outwardly.  Its as if I can see everything she did, her childhood home, her friends, each memory is vivid and understood within me, somehow.  Parallel universe, perhaps? Who can tell.  But, what I am starting to understand is that as I begin to heal more, I find myself uniting with her more deeply, so that it's less an escape from reality into safety, but rather we are both one.  Thus, I have decided to adopt her identity within mine by adding the name "Elizabeth" to my moniker.  In a very real sense, I am fully engaging every part of me and bringing to the surface, no longer needing to hide or flee.  

More than the inner need of my heart to be true to myself and my calling, I have discovered the powerful truth of the meaning of names and the vibrations heard linked together to impact my soul's truth more deeply.  I have yet to make the official change, for now, legally I am still "Lia Rose Dugal", but the legality of its fullness will come intime.  For now, the change has been made official on social media alone.  

The next revelation came as a shock to me but when it arrived in its fullness I was surprised that I had not recognised outwardly its need.  Over the last two years, I have discovered and am clearly defining the brand and emphasis of my business and entrepreneural endeavors.  It came upon me as a deep revelation that I always knew within that the focus of my business is that of the thriving artist, rather to help artists of every variety seek and love their thrive.  Working with a business advisor, I have discovered that the "productions" name, once fitting for a film company alone, does not fully encompass all that Cafe-Girl seeks to achieve.  My business partners and I have been tossing ideas back and forth that feel more fitting and have narrowed it down to either "Cafe-Girl Thriving Artists, Inc" or "Cafe-Girl Artists, Inc".  Our brand slogan is simply, "Love Your Thrive" so we were debating whether the usage of "thriving" needs to be within the main name itself.   

So, first I want to be a person and businesswoman that hears and takes into consideration those she works and cares for, honoring their input and seeing its validity.  So, in a sense, we decided upon "Cafe-Girl Artists, Inc", but in my head I kept referring to "Cafe-Girl Thriving Artists, Inc", without any effort it flowed from within and then without.  

Throughout these last two years, I have entered fully into recovery, through private therapy as well as self help books galore.  A large facet of this is in committing to fully love and honor myself, being able to receive love from others without feeling an obligation to give back.  Being free to receive is not selfish as I am still a person that gives and loves freely.  Furthermore, there is a necessity within myself to honor my inner voice.  I have toyed with this, feeling that if I voiced my desire for the "thriving" within the name, I would discredit the input and voice of my business partners.  However, the resounding truth kept echoing within my heart, these are true friends, who love, honor, support, and, above all, truly see me, as I truly love, honor, support, and, above all, see them.  Thus, by me laying out my heart to them on this issue, they will not feel unheard or devalued, but will see the need to continue to assure I am valued by them.  Nothing is set in stone as far as the business name change, nor does it have to be deciding upon in this moment, the appropriate name will make itself known in its perfect time.  

In the synchronicity of the changes of identity for myself and business, I have discovered once again the fullness of knowing and being true to oneself within and allowing that to spill outwards.  That, in fact, is the true pathway towards being a thriving artist.

                                                        Rise

    I won't just survive
Oh, you will see me thrive
Can't write my story
I'm beyond the archetype
I won't just conform
No matter how you shake my core
'Cause my roots, they run deep, oh

Thoughts From A Burgeoning Producer

www.patreon.com/cafegirlproductions

www.cafegirlproductions.com

Now, I know that I'm new at this whole film and media producer, running your own business type of thing, (like only 3 years) as well as working as a or towards being a professional actor, of sorts (like only 7 years).  BUT!  But, I have read a lot of books, observed a lot of the greats,ie the professionals in my local area, and spent a fair amount of time in and out of the audition circuit to understand how this whole thing works.  AND!  And, I know that all situations and circumstances are different, people have differing views on the right and wrong ways to do things, and that I still have a lot of learn (well, don't we all?)

But, here's the thing...

We recently held a casting call for our feature film, Guilt, to be filmed next summer.  At the call, we had an assortment of the usual fair of talent in my local area, mostly young twenty-something female actors, as the main cast is made up of just that.  However, we did have a smattering of male actors show up to audition for some of the smaller yet supporting parts.  Underline "supporting" because there are no small parts, as they say, only small actors.  All parts included in a screenplay should have some value and as I learned in my acting classes every character, whether the lead to the supporting, has an interesting, valuable inner life that colors his or her experience in the story.  

So, we had one male actor make a snide remark in front of the director about the role he was reading for, that the part didn't have a name, etc.  It left a bad taste in my mouth towards that particular actor.  

Here's why: as an actor myself, I have always read and experienced that the notion of being nice and respectful goes further in an audition setting than anything else.  The protocol at an audition, that I have witnessed personally, is to go in, smile, slate your name, do the reading, answer any questions that are asked, say thank you, and walk out the door, not knowing whether the part will be offered or not.  Furthermore, even if the part isn't offered this time around, the high likelihood of being offered another role based on this audition experience is ensured if one facet occurs: were you a nice person?

Its really that simple.  Did you act like a jack-ass and appear entitled or were you just all around a nice guy/girl/nonbinary human?

Over the last year, what I have experienced in my life is an influence of the toxic element of humanity that has at times left me running for the hills, or rather, the comfort of my own abode and/or those individuals whose love I have assured I can trust.  These experiences have not only left a sore spot in my heart but have left me leery in my interactions, not just personally, but also in a business mindset.  

So, what's the take away here? How can you win favor with not just me but also those you are applying for a job or auditioning for a role?

Be a nice human.  Its just that easy.  Try it sometime. 

www.cafegirlproductions.com

www.patreon.com/cafegirlproductions 

Life On My Own Terms

Photo Credit: Laura Irene

So this is me now: I am an actress, writer, model, and film producer.  I took a risk and auditioned for a play in 2012 and was offered a part, an experience which awakened me to my truest purpose and calling.  For years before, I had been floundering, feeling that I was meant for more than the 9-5,  the "American Dream", you know, the job, the house, the two kids, and the two car garage.  No, deep down it was always clear to me that whole thing was not my jive.   And, try as I meant to conform and try to merge with the status quo, it never worked but always left a deep dissatisfaction within my soul.

 So, I took a risk and went against the status quo, against the standard of normalcy and appropriate life goals, in short, I reached for my highest ambitions and as I stretch, my faith and love for myself increases, I leap forward.  No matter the setback, its momentary as I keep moving forward.  

I started Cafe-Girl Productions, Inc after tipping my toe into producing a script I had written, loosely based on a Doctor Who Fan Fiction web-series entitled "HomeSick".  But, it was the previous summer, while on set working as a production assistant, that a friend sat down with me and said, "I think you would make a good producer, Lia."  I thought he was crazy and had no clue as to where he was getting that idea or why he even thought that.  Turns out though, he was right, I mean, he's a pretty smart guy, he is my friend after all.   Throughout those early days of HomeSick, I discovered he was right, I did have skill in setting up locations, gathering props, crew, actors, food, filming, and then editing the short youtube video episodes.  Not only could I begin something like that, I could and did finish it.  It was on set filming HomeSick that I asked the cast and crew, what do you think of Cafe-Girl Productions?  "I like it," said my friend, Susie, with an encouraging smile.  And, that was all the confirmation I needed.

However, the term "Cafe-Girl" did not just appear out of nowhere.  No, it most certainly did not.  The phrase originated with me, coming from a year way back when I spent way too much time at a cafe, which you can guess it, was populated by way too many boys and scant amount of girls.  In fact, at times I was the only girl amidst those boys.  But that one year set me on a course of life that would color and define the rest of life, truly helping me to finally discover who I am and what is my highest purpose.  Ultimately, that purpose is to be true to myself as a human, in my art, and to help other people to find that truth in themselves and to be able to create art that fulfills them.  That is my personal reasoning for starting and continuing Cafe-Girl Productions, Inc. 

There are a myriad of productions both in theatre and film that have been notable and life-affirming for my growth as an actor and artist.  One that stands out that was somewhat difficult while doing a production of "A Christmas Carol" at a local community theatre.  During the show, in the dead of winter, the roof was leaking and we were rehearsing, performing during a major rain and snow storm.  However, the cast and crew, including myself, chose not to complain against these harsh conditions.  In actuality, we were happy and that joy warmed our hearts.  We joked, in our 19th Century English garb, how we were method actors truly understanding the reality of life in the 1800s.  In fact, at one point during a big song and dance number, I slipped, graciously sliding to my knees, never missing a beat, and getting up continuing on with the dance.  It was that togetherness and determination to create art that made audiences love our show and the theatre.  It was that experience that has shaped my determination to continue and persevere no matter the challenge or hardship that arises.  

I recall the summer I spent in Eugene, Oregon acting as one of the leads in "In Her Blood", a low-budget independent film.  All of my life, I have felt this inward unworthiness and disbelief that anyone could love me.  As I was on set, I'd look around at the cast and crew, full of love and admiration, but truly doubt the validity of their affection for me, believing that they were just tolerating me for the sake of the project.  That turned out to be false and it was their involvement in my life during that time, creating and seeing the final product together, that helped me realize my worthiness of love.   During that summer, I also spent the majority of my time at work within my own production company filming the next installments of the Doctor Who Fan-Fiction webseries, this time with Hearts-Sick & Homesick.  I had never felt that I had successfully fulfilled the ultimate vision for HomeSick when we filmed it previously and so this gave me the opportunity and ultimately the lesson to 'never settle' for myself and for my art.  Furthermore, it also helped me to realize my worth as a human and as an artist as I developed deeper friendships with the cast and crew, feeling their love, respect, and appreciation.

In addition to all this, there have been some very dark times.  Times where I have felt severely betrayed and wounded, where I felt like throwing in the towel of Cafe-Girl Productions and even my life.  One time was in the end of 2016, when working on the production of "Daggers In Men's Smiles".  I initially tried to do as a play but felt the backlash and wounding of many of the actors, as well as director and stage manager with the ultimate betrayal of breaking up with me, backstabbing me, and walking away from not only the production but from me.  After that wounding, I hit pause for a week, examined myself thoroughly, and once I had re-set myself, I got back up and decided to continue forward with this project as a film.  My heart will ever be grateful to the cast and small crew that joined me in helping to bring my vision to fruition, under at times harsh winter conditions or while under the weather they stayed true to me and to the film.  I had a similar experience with the first season of "Nate & Laura & How They Met" with the first attempt at filming.  I had hired a very green, new director and director of photography who proved to be extremely manipulative and abusive.  It shattered me horrificly and almost led to my removing myself from this planet, if it hadn't been for the love and belief I had from the previous cast and crew of Cafe-Girl, my ongoing family.  But, beauty from ashes, I watched as the majority of the cast and crew of Nate & Laura stayed with me and along the way new faces began flocking to me, faces that I now call family.  With this cast and crew, I have witnessed the most professional and hard-working bunch which has set the standard for productions moving forward with Cafe-Girl Productions, Inc.

Starting out, I feel the foundation for Cafe-Girl Productions, Inc that has been laid and which I am truly grateful for, is that of self-care and compassion, building one another up to help each other see their strengths, total teamwork as we work together focusing on our mutual end goals of creating beautiful, meaningful productions, lifting each other up and holding space for those of us that struggle in whatever way without casting judgment.  These components have long since been my core values for myself and for others, it fills me with warmth that it has extended forward into my business and all my professional dealings.  In addition, to our passion projects, our film and media productions, we give out these values in our dealings with the community, by helping to film quality audition videos for up and coming talent, in addition to headshots, and working with local businesses to film educational videos raising awareness about their company.  In addition, we look forward to renting out our equipment to other local film companies and producers.  We also are excited about other future community based products and services such as film reels for actors, directors, and more, acting classes, fun merchandise items that will bring a smile to many, and are excited about our newest media venture, The Raccy Podcast Network.  With the podcast, we will engage the audiences with fun radio theatre style plays, interesting interviews, and more.  Furthermore, as always I, as well as my colleagues, and those who work for Cafe-Girl Productions, Inc are committed to bringing forth productions that truly benefit society by raising awareness of a variety of social issues, such as mental health, #MeToo movement and women's rights, and political and environmental concerns.  

I believe that my history as a professional actress in theatre and film, but also as a person with a mental health condition can influence Cafe-Girl Productions, Inc in a positive manner by not only moving the business forward productively but by keeping the focus on the relationship.  For it is in relationship that we heal, create, and thrive!

Audition Video Commercial

For more information on me, check out my facebook page at: https://www.facebook.com/liarosedugal/

Also, find out more about Cafe-Girl Productions, Inc at:

www.cafegirlproductions.com

www.patreon.com/cafegirlproductions

Cafe-Girl: A Girl Conquers World Novella

“Here's my phone number, if you ever want to call me when you can't sleep,” Deborah's voice rang over and over through Matthew's excited brain. He stood holding the napkin with her name and phone number scribbled across it loosely. This was it, this was his in, the initiatory step into whatever was going to be between them. He could toss the napkin in the garbage, a likely story, or pocket it and wait until he got off work to call her. Happily, he moved through the coffee shop to the patio to brag to his friends when the door swung open, letting the cool air blast in and upon him. In a flash, all time seemed to stop, everything that was slipped away into momentary oblivion. Before him, framed in the doorway, the cool air flowing around her, stood Deborah, dressed in completely different clothes than the ones she had just left in, and quite inappropriately dressed for this fall weather, a tanktop and short pants.

“Deborah, what the...?”

She quickly moved into the coffee shop, her eyes aghast and full of wonder, as if this was the first time in a long time that she had been in this place. She moved past him, brushing slightly against his shoulder with her arm, a tingly sensation overwhelmed him with infatuated desire. She moved through the coffee shop, touching each table, running her hands over every chair, warming herself by the fire as she stared mysteriously into the flames for what seemed like a very long time.

“Deborah, I'm confused,” Matthew said, breaking the silence. “How did you...come back here...with different...”

Deborah turned to face him, resolute.

“I don't have a lot of time here, in this place, this moment, Matt,” she said at last. “Let me explain. Let's sit down.”

She sighed with melancholy, moved to a table by the window, and sat. He sat across from her, his hands folded before him on the table.

“You want a cup of coffee or something?” he asked, after a moment of silence where she stared at him in quiet disbelief.

“That would be...so amazing,” she began and then shook her head. “But, there isn't any time, I don't think...” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I can't believe I'm here now, I never thought I'd see it again, never believed, always hoped...”

“Um, weren't you just---”

“No, Matt, not like that,” Deborah started to explain. “I mean, yes, I was but not me here now. That was then, in the past when...oh my god, its only for the beginning for you...she, I mean, I just gave you my number and its the moment after...”

“Wait, hold on, what are you saying?” Matthew blurted out, starting to become worried about the mental state of this girl he liked. “Why are you wearing those clothes? What the hell?”

“Matthew, I'm not the girl I was, the girl that was just here...I'm from a time after...that's why my clothes are different,” she tried haltingly to explain, her eyes pleading for him to understand, hoping that he would.

“Wait, are you saying...like time travel, like you are from the future or some shit?” Matthew asked, pushing his chair away from the table and starting to get up. He had had it with these crazy girls.

“Wait, please, Matthew,” Deborah was pleading, reaching for his arm. “The number I gave you, on the napkin, where is it?”

He pulled it from his pocket and held it out to her.

“And...and your phone, call it now, please,” Deborah begged. He stood there and stared down at her, searchingly. What the fuck is this shit, he thought.

Deborah blinked rapidly, searching for some way to make him see.

“Look around you, at the other people in the coffee shop, the patio,” she thrust her arms around her to get him to look and her eyes welled up again with agonized tears as she saw the rest of the boys on the patio.

Matthew looked around and then looked around again. Suddenly, he saw what she was saying.

“They're...not moving,” he said at last. “Like at all. What the hell?”

He sat down again heavily in the chair and she sat across from him.

“So, call me, her, me,” Deborah said. He pulled his cell-phone from his pocket and looked over at the number, slowly, deliberately he began to dial. It rang once and then the voice of Deborah rang out from the other end of the line.

“Hello? Hello?” Matthew looked up at Deborah before him and then at the phone with her voice coming through. The phone went dead as Deborah on the phone hung up.

“Now you see,” Deborah said with a sigh. “I am at home, in my room, anxious that you aren't going to call, and when the phone rings I've just thrown it across the room, spilling coffee all over the place and when you call me, I don't know who it is, but I'm trying to clean up the mess and...”

Matthew stopped her by touching her arm. “It's okay,” he said soothingly.

“You'll never talk about this, the two of you, we never do,” Deborah responded.

“So, we become a we,” Matthew said with a hopeful smile. Deborah stared out the window wistfully. “So, if you are from the future, then right, what do you want? Why are you here?”

“Huh?” was all Deborah said as she stared outside lost in thought.

“Well, you came back for a reason so...,” Matthew urged her to speak.

Deborah looked around at the cafe and sighed.

“This place is so cozy. I've missed it so much...no matter how hard I try, I can never find another place like it...but...its not the place that makes it so special, really, I just realized that.”

“Deborah?” Matthew looked over at her. “What happens to this place?”

She looked over at him and into his piercingly warm blue eyes.

“Everything's going to change and fast,” she began, a tear trickling down her face. “You know back when I was younger, when I was here, I lived in this magic little bubble of my own little world, my own little reality, and I thought, I really wanted it to go on forever and ever...but what I have learned is, nothing ever lasts, you've got to hang onto those moments of happiness for as long as possible, hold those shreds of peace in your heart before...”

Matthew opened his mouth to speak but then shut it, remaining silent, watching her, waiting for her.

“And even now, its not what it seems, not as perfect as I thought,” Deborah smiled sadly. “I went into this cafe seeking....seeking love, answers to all my doubts, solace from the world's scariness...and it...it found me here, even here.”

Matthew's eyes flew open.

“What are you talking about?” was all he could say.

“I just wanted to...be here one last time, with you, with everyone,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “Just to feel the fire's warmth and crackle, absorb the atmosphere of this place, see you as you are before...Matt, don't trust what you see on the outside, all is not what it seems now.”

With that, she started to fade right before his eyes. He reached for her, calling her name.

“Deborah, Deborah, wait, don't go!”

She responded to his calling, her voice trailing off further and further into an echo.

“Matthew, come and find me whatever you do.”

And, then she was gone. The rest of the world around him in that cafe returned to normal. He sat back and let out a huge breath. Did that really just happen? He stood up and moved down towards the patio, pushing the door open.

“She gave me her phone number!” he exclaimed.

“Nice,” said James yet Matt thought he heard a hint of jealousy in it. Yet he shook it off. This was good news and nothing was going to damper his happy moment.

Deborah pulled out her keys from her book-bag and stuck them into the lock of her small apartment. She unlocked the door and pushed it open, revealing her small one bedroom apartment, the living room a-mess with dirty dishes on the coffee table, books strewn about, nail polish and left over clippings from her last self-imposed beauty night. She sighed, she had never been this much of a slob in past years, but with the onset of grad school and the weight of the three years had brought on a sense of lethargy and impassive care for her surrounding environment. She set her bag down in the hallway and reached for the keys to her mailbox, hanging on a hook on her hall table.

She moved through the open hallway of her apartment complex, down to the first floor where the mailboxes were located. Unlocking the small door that opened to her mailbox compartment, she expected only to find the usual bills and ads that she would most likely toss in the garbage, well, the ads not the bills, she'd get in trouble if she did that. But, what she found as she pulled out the mail, standing there shivering in the half-cold of October leafing through, yes, the bills, ads, was a personal letter from him...from Matthew. Her heart skipped as she read his name again, how long had it been since they had spoken to each other, let alone seen each other? Deep inside herself, she felt a stirring within, the emptiness that had so consumed her in recent years started to dissipate with a sense of longing...and could it be...perhaps, love, at least of some sorts. She hurried back up the stairs to her apartment.

She sat on her sofa, a mug of tea in both hands, her legs pulled up to her chest, staring at the unopened letter sitting atop her coffee table. She'd cleaned up a bit, the dirty dishes were in the sink, the nail polish and its sundry items were placed back in the bathroom so merely before her was the letter sitting alone by itself. As she stared at it, she took it in fully, its loneliness resting there on the coffee table echoed the loneliness within her. In her mind's eye, she saw Matthew alone at a coffee shop, lonely like her, staring down deep into his coffee mug, his hands wrapped around it, not unlike hers around her tea, a cigarette dangling out of one hand, waiting, hoping, longing, maybe.

It had been three years since that night at the bar. Three years since Matthew had called the police and the investigation and subsequent trial. The police having disregarded her re-telling of her visions as evidence but had discovered that the necklace itself with DNA evidence of both James and Eve was sufficient enough evidence for booking. Deborah had not been able to attend the trial, work was her excuse but really it was due to her not wanting to acknowledge the truth of the state of James, that even though she had witnessed per her vision the murder, she could not, did not want to, believe he was capable of such atrocity. The jury had found him guilty, a psychiatrist had found him mentally unstable and labeled him with paranoid schizophrenia. He was up north in jail now in a psychiatric unit. Shortly after the trial had concluded, Deborah moved closer to her parents house for graduate school, in none other than, psychology, leaving all of them behind, trying to run as far as possible from them which was proving to be impossible. The faces of Shaggy, Thomas, Ray, Matthew, and even James swam up at her. The happier times, hiking, drinking at the bar in the crow's nest, the long talks and joking days over their coffee mugs and cigarettes at the cafe...it all refused to disappear from her thoughts but was there like an ever present and insistent companion in every moment of her days, waking and otherwise.

Alone in her apartment, a tear trickled down her face. She had managed, she rationalized, to stem the tide of emotion on this whole matter as far away from the fore-front of her heart as possible but now with the letter before her the emotion began to flow. Slowly, she set the tea mug on the table before her and picked up the letter. Holding it, the envelope felt heavier than what it should, heavy with the weight of memory. Reluctantly, she opened it and pulled the sheets of paper from within.

“Dear Deborah,” Matthew wrote. “Its been awhile since we talked and I just thought I'd reach out, say hi, see how you are doing...I am not sure why but I think about you from time to time, a lot. Anyway, Shaggy, you remember, he went up north to Portland for college and then randomly he ended up getting up an internship for NASA. Its true! You remember how he used to rail away about the government, all those conspiracy theories with NASA...Life is ironic, huh? He says that sometimes the best way to fight is by joining the ranks, or something like that. Ray joined some gay hippie commune, doing fine, me and Shaggy visited him a few times when he last visited. Thomas even visits him sometime, which is weird, because...well, they had a thing for awhile, I suspect. Yeah, random, huh? Anyway, he got married again, is living up in northern Idaho or something like that, and calls me almost every weekend railing against his wife...Feel like I'm going to have to go on a rescue mission to save him!! And, me, well, I got a job as a waiter at this local restaurant and I've been seeing someone new...”

Deborah gasped at that, unconsciously threw down the letter into her lap, picked her tea up, took a long sip, and wiped a tear from her eye. She picked the letter up again and although her eyes were wet with grief and resignation began to read again.

“I'm not sure where it is going, if its anything serious,” Matthew continued. “But she's a fun girl, her name is Denise, you'd like her, I think...I hope. So, what else? Yeah, James is still up in prison, heard he's doing fine, they got him on meds and he's seeing a therapist, that's what I heard. I guess Thomas visited him a few times, until he got married and moved. And, the coffee shop, well, I guess you were right when you predicted it would close...after the arrest and everything that happened, people didn't come in as much, I guess they didn't want to associate themselves with controversy or something, so we had to shut the place down...but the city, they tore the whole building down after they bought it...and you know what is going in there now, I've heard a fancy new restaurant. Wonder what the restaurant next door thinks of that! Like my city needs a new tourist trap...city improvement at its possible! Ha, ha, maybe I should try to get a job there! Anyway, that's pretty much all the updates up in these parts, what's new with you? Still in school? Please keep in touch. Much love, Matthew.”

Deborah put the letter gently in her lap, half noticing the tear stains where her wet fingers had smudged some of the words. She pushed any thought of what that sadness and regret could mean. She clasped her mug in both hands again and stared straight ahead, wanting to silence the thoughts swirling in her head, memories calling back to old times she wished she could forget. Times that were filled with joy and love but then shadowed with heartbreak, fear, agony, and painful good-byes.

It was if the times before that night at the bar when the police had been called and the gang of them had been ushered down to the station to be sequestered in separate rooms before James had been booked was the last time she felt truly happy and free. The times when her and her boys sat drinking their coffee, laughing over Shaggy's crazy conspiracy theories, commiserating over crazy exes, pontificating on the meaning of life and the possible existence of God, and all the while trying to figure themselves out and to find a sense of direction for this life were the last shred of her youth now gone in the painful memory of the realization that it hadn't exactly been true. That at least one of her companions, a man that she believed to have been her soul-mate and first love, had proven to be false, hiding a darkness that left her reeling with a sense of distrust ever since. And, now with the confirmation of the demise of the coffee shop, she felt even more a sense of loss, was there anything left for her to believe in this world? Was there anymore love, faith, connection to be found anywhere? She sipped her tea and let her eyes stray out the sliding glass door of her porch to the grey skies and waited...waited on a prayer and a wish for some answer to the darkness crowding into her neat little world.

Deborah woke with a start. She was in her bed, it was late at night and she thought she had heard something in her living room. Cautiously and quietly, she got out of bed without turning the light and moved down the hall. In the living room down the hall, she saw the blue light of the television. 'I must have just left it on, that's all,' she thought trying to calm and reassure herself. She moved with a little more determination and strength into the living room and stopped at the end of the hallway, frozen and speechless.

Before her, standing directly in front of the TV, was James.

“Deborah,” James said in a soft whisper. He opened his arms, inviting her to come to him. She stood, unable to move, stupefied and speechless.

“Are you really here?” She asked at last.

James smiled at her, understandingly.

“Remember I used to say to you, I'll meet you in my dreams tonight,” he explained reassuringly.

“You look like you used to look...so long ago,” was all Deborah could say as a sob caught itself in her throat.

“It's how you wanted to see me,” he said with a sad smile. And, the dam broke. Deborah collapsed onto the couch, sobbing.

Brokenly, she said, “Right here. You are still right here in my heart. Even after everything that happened, you are still right here. Even if I tried to forget you, I can't forget...that I love you. You once told me that I needed to find a love more than fire, bells, and whistles. I needed to just know that I am loved. With you, I have that, when its all said and done. Even when you are far away...I still know. But, there is still this loneliness because I can't see you---

James crossed over to her and sat by her side on the couch, not touching her. But, she felt him and it wasn't fear like she was used to, like she thought it would be. It was just as it had been before, she felt a sense of peace restoring itself to her life. She looked up at him then and their eyes met, studying each other, taking each other in again.

“When I look into your eyes, I see the reflection of my own soul,” James exclaimed with a contented sigh.

“I do too,” Deborah admitted. She looked down at her hands, twisting in her lap.

“What are you thinking about?” James wanted to know, placing his hand atop hers and gently stroking her fingers.

“Just thinking about...,” but Deborah couldn't go on. She looked down at their hands entwined with each others.

“Just say it,” James said. She looked up into his eyes and saw that he did truly know her thoughts.

“The old times, what life was like, how simple it was. I can still see it, in my mind, almost like I'm still there but its just starting to fade...the cafe. And you. And all of it. I don't want to let go but still...Thinking of what I wanted back then, the foolish young girl I was, trying to paint the picture of my life and love. The fairy-tale life, you know. And its just that...I'm angry, when it comes down to it. Angry at myself for believing in that, and not seeing. But, we can never really see. We only see what we want to, with rose-covered glasses. Its not black or white, bad or good. It just is. I'm angry at you because you left me and said you wouldn't. Couldn't,” She spoke quickly, letting all the years of pent-up emotion and unanswered questions full of doubt pour forth out of her.

James thought a moment and then soothed the hair out of her eyes.

“I still can't. Remember, "Love will last forever," was all he said.

“James!” Deborah exclaimed and turned away from him.

James laughed to himself and then said, “You know, I looked up the meaning of our names recently, in the library in jail. You know what my name means? Supplanter. But, your name, Deborah, means Honey Bee. And, your middle name, Ruth, means loyal friend.”

“So?” responded Deborah, glaring at him.

“You are a loyal friend that brings sweet things,” he explained at last. He smiled and pushed her hair out of her eyes again, stroking her hair down her back.

“Tell me what to do now...I'm tired of...fighting,” Deborah pleaded haltingly, tears began forming in her eyes.

“Me too. Deborah, my honey bee,” James agreed reassuringly. He took her hand. “I'm sorry that I never believed in you. Maybe there is one soul-mate for all of us, maybe there is more than one, pushing us to the great love. Who knows? I only know that, you have to go on and you will...without me.”

“But--”

James silenced her by placing their hands on her heart.

“Deborah, don't let me go, no matter what. I"ll be right here, always,” he soothed. “I'll live on forever in your heart, your eyes, your dreams. Write my story, our story. And, Cafe-Girl, I love you. And, good-bye.”

He leaned over and kissed her, sweetly, serenely, and for the last time. When she opened her eyes, he was gone. Deborah looked frantically around the room before she said out loud,

“Will I ever see you again?”

The rest of the night she barely slept but tossed and turned as she went over and over what had just transpired. What would the psychiatrists think of this? Would they call her crazy too? What would all the good little Christians friends of hers say? Would they call her demon-possessed?

The next morning she stumbled out of bed early, brain foggy more from the confusing jumble of unresolved emotions swarming up inside of her. She dressed quickly in warm outdoor clothes and laced up her hiking boots. Grabbing her backpack, she stuck her wallet, water-bottle, and journal inside of it. Out the door, she swung, keys in hand, down to her car. But she passed it and just started walking, heading to the nearest trail that would lead her outside of the cement confusion that was the town she currently resided.

She stopped at a local coffee shack and bought a cappuccino, hoping that the taste of that would quiet the painful memories. She kept walking when she found the trail as high and as far a she could go. After about twenty minutes, she stopped, catching her breath, and turned to face the city, awash with the morning sunrise of pinks and fresh yellows. It was a new day, could it be, at last? She looked around her, and suddenly realized she had no idea where she was or really how she had gotten there. Directly above her was a large rock. She climbed up to it and sat down, pulling her journal out of her backpack, rummaging around inside she located a pen. She turned the pages to find a blank page and stared hard down at it:

“So, what's the story about?” She asked aloud to the trees, plants, valley below. “A story of what...of too much caffeine?”

From somewhere far back in the reaches of her memory, she heard Thomas's voice echo through to her core:

“Seen you at the coffee shop, sometimes, Deborah.”

“Youth? The Golden Road?” Deborah asked, looking around to see if he had heard her. In response, she heard Ray's voice echoing back to her from the past:

“King of the lawn gnomes, they call me.”

She looked out over the city and screamed, imploringly:

“How does the story end? A story of a journey? Of friendship? Tell me please.”

She fell silent then as the next voice rang through her entire being shocking her completely.

Matthew said, “First snows are the best times for walks.”

She collapsed inside herself, wrote something in her journal, then read it aloud:

“A story of regrets? A story of the search for true love?”

“I'll meet you in my dreams tonight,” James responded as clear and present as the rock she sat upon and the birds awaking from their nightly revelries.

She wrote again in her journal and without thinking, read it aloud:

“A story of pain, or strength?”

She looked around, hoping for an answer from some place, someone.

“You're all right, yourself, Deborah,” came the reassuring answer from Matthew.

Again she scribbled in her journal, then spoke these words in a whisper:

“A story of hope, or nothing?”

“Live your life, Deborah, and be happy, no matter what, be that,” was Matthew's answer from the far away distant past.

She cocked her head and felt the wind push back her hair. For the first time, she realized she had been crying, so used to it she had become, with the wind touching the tears stained against her face.

“A story of truth?” she asked the universe or the city below her, hoping somehow for an answer.

“Never give up the fight,” Shaggy chimed in from far away in the distant past. She laughed out loud, then wrote in her journal, reading it as she wrote:

“A story of forgiveness, of letting go? a story of redemption? "I started going to a coffee shop recently, never thought I'd be a cafe girl, you know, but I always wanted to be....I just wish there was some book, something to explain and help navigate. I just wish it didn't hurt so bad. Endings."

She looked up from her journal, taking it all in and felt a presence beside her, on the right side. Turning, she saw no one, nothing. Then, came the voice of James:

“When I look into your eyes, I see the reflection of my own soul.”

She looked outward over the city and beyond, she sighed resolutely, at last beginning to understand. In her mind, she heard her boys that one night at the lithium fountain chanting:

“One of us, one of us, one of us!”

She smiled and whispered, “A story of love.”

She sat watching as the sun rose higher into the sky, watched as the city became alive with cars and people just starting their day, their lives afresh. Resolved, she put her journal into her backpack and stood up, looking around her. She remembered that she didn't really know where she was or how to get back. Reflecting back, she remembered all those hikes with them, her boys from the cafe, how she always trusted that no matter how high and how far, they'd get her home. She shivered because now she was alone, all alone. With as much determination as she could muster, she hopped off the rock and began cautiously heading down the mountain, hoping to come out near where she could make herself home.

As she made her way down the mountain, the path became more and more clear to her, she was going in the right direction. The laughter of hikes long ago echoed back to her and kept her moving forward. Pushing through a low hung bush, she emerged outward on the street and before her was the street leading to the little coffee shack and her apartment beyond.

“Oh,” she exclaimed. She had done it, she had made it back home and all by herself. With a sudden relish and revelation, she understood that this was all they had ever wanted for her. To be herself, to be brave, to be unabashedly fully alive and true to herself, without apology. It was then that she knew what she must do and do quickly.

It took awhile, the drive backwards into time always did. She made it back into her old town where it all had happened in mid afternoon. Checking into her hotel, she dropped her bags on the bed and sat with a thud beside them, hugging her knees to her chest. Was she really going to go through with this? Was it, in fact, at all a possibility? Was this really how it would end? She picked up her phone and willed herself to dial but then set it back down on the bed.

The rest of the day and into the night she wondered aimlessly through the town, looking into the store windows, into the faces of tourists and the locals as the darkness descended both outwardly and inwardly. As her stomach began to grumble with hunger pains, she realized how lonely she in fact was.

She found herself quickly entering into the town bookstore and noticed the lights of the coffee shop upstairs still lit. She hurried up the stairs in search of a bite or a drink or...maybe. When she reached the top of the stairs, she stood motionless in the doorway. Directly across from her, he entered the coffee shop from the other entrance, stopped, and stared at her.

Without seeing anyone else, they crossed to face each other, not taking their eyes off of each other.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, breaking the still silence.

“I think I'll have a cappuccino if..,” she began.

“If?”

“If only you would read my fortune please,” she said laughing. They moved over to the counter and she ordered her cappuccino from the much younger barista (she realized). Matthew flung down some money on the counter before she could get her card and said, “Make that two please!”

“So---” they both said at once. Matthew nodded for her to continue politely.

“You from around here?” She joked.

“Yeah, I'm a townie,” He chided her.

“Ah, my first townie!” She played along.

“Yeah,” he said, suddenly serious. “Yeah, I was.”

The barista took the money, handed back the change, and deposited their cappuccinos onto the counter before them.

Deborah looked into her drink and then up at Matthew, teasingly.

“Well?”

He looked down at her drink and smiled, “Well, looks like you are in need of a walk--”

“It looks like snow,” Deborah noted musingly.

“Its the first snow,” Matthew informed her.

“First snows are the best time for walks, or so I have heard,” Deborah smiled back.

They crossed down to the exit that Matthew had entered in previously and out into the inky darkness descending onto the town. Deborah reflected that she felt a lightness that she hadn't felt for a very long time. They walked beside each other quietly through the city, into the park, the snow starting to fall softly in drifts around them, sticking to their hair, their clothes, the ground beneath them.

In the park, their shoes crunched gravel thrown down to ensure the safety of pedestrian travelers. They kept walking side by side, Deborah looking up and all around her, a calm sense of peace erupting throughout her whole being. They stopped by the creek and looked down over the rushing cascading water, the fullness of the winter river healthy with the fall of rain and snow. Deborah breathed it all in, looked at him, released everything. His piercingly warm blue eyes caught hers and she saw for the first time:

“Sometimes you fall in love at first sight, sometimes it takes awhile.”

Falling In Love at a Coffee Shop

Cafe-Girl: A Girl Conquers World Novella

Deborah leaned back and stared up at the starry sky above her, the chattering voices of those around her mingled with the light breeze. Her eyes started to blink closed, slowly then assuredly shut themselves. She found herself drifting, drifting above herself, her body floating above and outside herself. Looking down, she saw herself and her friends about her, talking in the idle chatter of drunken mirth of close friends, but she floated above, flying higher and higher until her friends, the crow's nest, the bar itself, were a dark memory firmly below on the earth's surface. Suddenly, she found herself in the upper stratosphere, surrounded by the inky night and star lights, floating, floating like a magical carpet softly through the air. Slowly, and without warning, her body began to drift downward, then picking up speed she shot towards a small house on the outskirts of town. Downward she flew, fear overtook her as she found herself plummeting faster and faster towards the roof of the house. She screamed an echoless scream, searching for ways to stop herself, save herself. Suddenly, the roof was upon her and she braced for impact, her life and all that it was flashed before her as she prayed to a God she hoped existed that she would be saved, rescued, or even taken up to heaven, if it too existed.

As she came upon the roof, she inhaled nervously but then found herself carefully and mysteriously drifting through the roof, the attic, the pink gooey inner lining of the wall, and came out clean and fresh upon the floor of a small living room, filled with boxes, self-painted art work, a tattered and worn couch, an older TV set, and music station. She stood righting herself and looking around anxiously, trying to figure out where she was, how she had got there, and preparing for herself for what could happen next. Looking around, she saw a small bookcase, filled to the brim with books of various sizes and shapes, pushed here and there inside of it. On the top was a picture frame, Deborah moved towards it and picked it up, examining it. There were two people pictured, one she saw was James whose arms wrapped around the girl from her dreams...

“Eve,” whispered Deborah. Light footsteps sounded behind her and a soft voice spoke.

“Yes, its me,” and Deborah turned and faced a girl that looked so much like herself. The girl from her dreams and her visions, standing before her fully formed and fully alive.

“But, you're dead, I thought,” Deborah shook her head in confusion.

“This is only the moment before,” Eve explained.

“The moment before...,” Deborah echoed.

“Yes, it is about to happen, you'll see it all, just like I told you,” Eve explained. “These are my last moments of being alive.”

Eve moved close to Deborah, who could smell her sweet aroma wafting over towards her. Eve brushed Deborah's hair back from her eyes and leaned in close.

She whispered, “Never give up the fight and always remember, I believe in you.”

Eve kissed her on the forehead just as the door pounded behind her. Eve pulled back, looked deep into Deborah's eyes, horror filled her eyes. Deborah felt that horror in her heart. She gripped Eve's wrist tight and whispered back,

“Be strong, I'm with you.”

The door swung open and in the frame stood James, an angry frown across his face, his eyes burning with rage. Deborah gasped, she had never seen him like this nor thought he could ever have been like this, so sweet and gentle he had always been. James moved into the room and scowled at Eve. His eyes flickered over at the bookshelf, Deborah froze in terror at his angry glare, but he seemed to look through her, unseeing. She was invisible to him then, she realized, not here in his perspective. This was something that had happened already, a moment in the past...

“Um, you want to sit? You want a drink or something?” Eve was saying, somewhere in the distance.

“No,” he said gruffly and stared at her hard. She sat on the edge of the sofa and sighed heavily.

“James, I have something to tell you,” she began slowly. He continued staring at her, trying to read her thoughts and to her it felt like he was trying to intimidate her.

“Yeah?” he said at last.

“The paperwork came back from the DA's office,” she began and sighed again. “Um, its official.”

“Aha,” he said, nodding. “You happy?”

“Not really, I mean,” was all she said and stared hard at the ground. Absentmindedly, her hand reached up to her neck and she fingered a necklace. He saw a glint of silver hanging from the chain and then recognized what it was, their wedding rings hanging side by side. He grunted at that. She looked up at him, smiling sadly, he thought, mockingly. Then, she unclasped the chain from around her neck and held the necklace out to him, the rings dangled off the chain between them, somewhat symbolically. “Maybe you should have this.”

She stood holding it out to him and he stared at her, penetrating her with his eyes. He moved towards her slowly, slowly, slowly. She inhaled hard and held her breath, then released it, as if gasping for air.

Deborah's eyes grew wide with terror, watching as James snatched the necklace with the two rings away from Eve's outstretched hand and moved towards her. He leaned over her on the couch, the necklace dangling in one hand.

“I'll give you something to be sorry about,” he began, his fist clenched towards her. Eve screamed silently, raising her hands to her face in fear. He pulled her arms away from her face and held the necklace up to her eyes. “You want this? Come on, wear it, bitch.”

He wrapped the chain around Eve's neck and pulled. Eve gasped, clutching the air for oxygen, her eyes bursting from her face. He shoved a knee into her stomach and pushed her down on the couch, all the while pulling harder and harder. Unthinking, Deborah moved to the couch, behind James, and screamed for him to stop.

“James, stop it, don't do this, James!” She grabbed at his arm and felt it move through his skin, through the muscles, sinews, veins, arteries, bones. She pulled back in shock over the sensation and realization that she could no nothing, that there was nothing she could do to save Eve, it had already happened.

James dropped Eve's lifeless body onto the couch, pulling the chain from around her neck, and turned to face Deborah, not seeing her. He held up the chain in front of his face, scanned it wordlessly and without emotion, then placed it around his neck, quickly clasping it. He stepped forward, passing through Deborah. She felt a coldness and an emptiness she had never imagined existed, especially from someone she loved so much. He hesitated at the door, as if he too had felt something, but then he opened the door, letting the cold, harsh sunlight of November spill into the house, before slamming it shut behind him.

Deborah looked down at Eve's body, wilted against the fabric of the couch. A tear escaped from her eyes and a muffled sob from her throat. Then, slowly she began ascending upwards, back through the roof, up into the starry sky, then down into her body laying prostate on the deck of the crow's nest at the bar, her friends gathered around her nervously calling her name over and over.

Her eyes flickered open to see the faces of Matthew, Shaggy, Thomas, Ray, and James framed around her.

“Deborah, Deborah,” Matthew was saying and she was touched by the concern in his voice. If only, she thought to herself but couldn't find the rest of the thought to follow only a sense of loss and longing mingled together. James face swam into view and she bit her lip to restrain from screaming, panic rising to the forefront of her brain, pushing away the sense of comfort that Matthew exuded. A chain dangled from his neck catching the moonlight, two rings fell across his chest. Deborah saw and remembered. With horror, she pushed James away and panicking cried, “Matthew, Matthew, where are you? I need you.”

Matthew pushed the others aside and reached for her, pulling her into his arms. She collapsed into them and frantically whispered,

“Call the police, I know who did it.”

November Rain

Cafe-Girl: A Girl Conquers World Novella

Deborah sat in the dark between Matthew and James, the irony not lost on her. The words left silent hung thickly in the air between them. It was her choice, then, she realized, always her choice. But there they sat, waiting for the silence to be distilled in some fashion. Deborah took a deep breath, exhaled, and turned her attention to James. Was this a pattern forming? Why did she feel such a pull to James that distracted her from any other aspect of her life? This all consuming force that drove her to reach out to him, endlessly longing, endlessly being refuted.

“Hey,” was all she said. He turned towards her, a warm smile spread across his face but pain deeply embedded in his eyes.

“Hey,” was his response. Deborah inhaled again, swept away in her heart by the magic pull of his eyes, understanding her completely.

“So, I have been having these dreams, like the other night,” she began. James nodded for her to continue. “And, I think I figured out who that girl is, the translucent one in the dream.”

She hesitated, waiting for his response, for him to give her anything. Distracted, she went on,

“I was at church the other day with Mari and I passed out during the worship part of it, the singing part. I had this experience, like a trance, and the girl came to me, then and there and...”

She fell silent, the rest of the sentence hung in the air, waiting to be spoken.

“Yeah, what did she say, what did she want?” James encouraged her.

“Yeah, so, I think that...I think that the girl is...is Eve,” Deborah said, nervously. Then, she bit her lip, waiting for James' response.

“Really?” was all he could say.

“I mean, I don't know really, because I never really met her in life but the thing is, it was pretty convincing in the dream and you know, she looked kind of a lot like me, so...,” Deborah tried to explain, hoping for some answer to break forth.

“Yeah, you guys do kind of,” James mused. Silence descended between them again, awkwardly. Finally, he looked over at her, deeply focusing in on her eyes, hypnotizing her. “So, what did she want? Why is she visiting you?”

“I don't really know the answer for that,” Deborah began. “But she did say that she wanted me to find her killer and that...I don't know, she showed me something but I can't remember really all of it right now.”

“Huh,” was all James would say. He turned away from her then, lost in his own thoughts, and sipped his Guinness. Deborah hesitated and turned towards Matthew. The light from the streetlamp above them hit his red hair and gave him a halo effect, a magical aura hung about him. She caught her breath in her throat, uncertain of what to say, uncertain of her feelings. She released her breath, steadied herself and said,

“Matthew,”she said, catching his attention. He turned to her, smiling slightly, his eyes open and free.

“Yeah,” he said, completely open to her then, always open to her, always would be.

“Look, I just wanted to apologize about what happened with---”

“Yeah, its okay,” Matthew interrupted her.

“Really?” Deborah was confused.

“Yeah, I thought about it and it was kind of inevitable between you two, there is something you two have that we never did, so I get it,” Matthew tried to explain.

“Are you okay?” Deborah wanted to know, touching his arm. Matthew took her hand in his.

“I will be,” he said holding her hand in both of his. “Live your life, Deborah, and be happy, no matter what, be that.”

Deborah smiled at him gratefully and he kissed her fingers, then released her hand.

“I will be,” Deborah said, catching his eyes. “Thank you, Matthew.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y2SfmcNg8js