About it and About

About it and About

Selected Short Stories

by

William C. Morley

Published on Smashwords.com by

© 2017 by William C. Morley

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedication

David A. Seed, author and philosopher, fisherman and athlete, my friend for very many years, once proposed a title for a book we would jointly write but never did. I use this title now and dedicate it to him, hoping he will not be wounded at my temerity in using this title. I am indebted to him for having continually offered me encouragement in everything I undertook. Thank you David Seed.

Epigraph

Myself when young did eagerly frequent

Doctor and Saint, and heard great Argument

About it and about: but evermore

Came out by the same Door as in I went.

THE RUBÁIYIÁT OF OMAR KHAYYÁM

Introduction

In his introduction to Trigger Warning, a collection of his short stories, Neil Gaiman tells of his early reading preference for short stories. In a short story the reader doesn’t commit to a long connection: if one story doesn’t please, there are others.

Mr. Gaiman also reveals that most publishers want the stories in a collection to be connected or similar in theme to one another. In my reading of short story collections, in which I have long nourished a delight, I have not found that to always be the case. Authors generally don’t confine themselves to that kind of similarity. As a matter of fact, for me, collections maintaining a continuity of theme are often too similar to be interesting after having read two or three of them.

Short stories are often those in which the author has found a theme that he or she wants to explore but does not want to expostulate on that topic for longer than a short story can handle. The result is a collection of varied styles and themes. The reader is free to move on to the next story or to skip around throughout the volume, marking preferred stories and crossing out others. I encourage the reader to do just that and that’s why I have set the price at the lowest level permitted by Smashwords with a very short free sample (I want you to read this introduction before you spend your money and once you have bought the book I want you to be able to move around through the stories as your heart desires).

The time span covered by the stories collected in this volume is broad, spanning more than fifty years. Hence the title: About it and About.

The names of characters used in these stories are fictional; while some comments and actions by characters may have been derived from the author’s actual experience; there is no connectivity between persons or events that is not a part of the fictional nature of these stories.

In other words, the reader should avoid any attempt to relate any of these stories to actual persons or events. As Thomas Wolfe wrote in the To the Reader forward to Look Homeward Angel, an author, as is everyone, is the part of her or his life. Even when writing fantasy or science fiction, the imagination that works to form the ideas and words is part of the clay of life. The stories in this volume were written without rancor or malign intention.

Table of Contents

Dedication

Epigraph

Introduction

The Ice Cream Cart

Feet

What he Didn’t Know

Time Fails to Live up to our Expectations

The Half Dome Hike

PAX

How Mamie Got Her Start

Mirriam

Domestic Disturbance

Santa Margarita

Five Two

From Georgia to the California Central Coast

Young Mrs. Anderson

Premonition

About the Author

Other Works

The Ice Cream Cart

If he had closed the windows when the east wind came up, his apartment would have stayed cooler. Instead, he opened the curtains and the hot air swept through, quickly subduing all memory of the night's coolness. It all started with not closing the windows.

With the apartment as hot as outdoors, Rick decided to get out. Maybe go to the beach where he would walk barefoot near the water and watch the people. Especially watch people, meaning watch the tempting, but forbidden, nearly naked females lounging and playing there.

When he thought of the women he noticed his mouth was dry and he went to the kitchen to grab a drink of water. Once there he decided a gin and tonic sounded better.

He sipped the drink and contemplated what to wear. Momentarily he thought about putting on a swimsuit, but he felt ashamed of his pale skin and thin frame and he convinced himself Levis and a tee shirt would be just fine for a walk on the cool sand near the water's edge.

While he laced his shoes it occurred to him he might pick up a hitchhiker on the way to the beach. That could be interesting, he thought, if he picked up girls that were hitchhiking. When he thought of what might come of that, his breath came a little quicker; he adjusted the crotch of his Levis. Girls who hitchhike are different -- more against tradition, not so timid; perhaps... well, who knows?

He gulped the rest of the drink to wash away the powdery feeling in his mouth, put on his dark glasses, and left the apartment. Dark glasses are good when you go to the beach; you can look around and the women don't notice. They might think you're looking at a wave or someone building a sand castle but you're really caressing their flesh with your eyes.

His Mustang wasn't new. Far from it. But it was in top shape and he kept it clean and polished. Girls, he thought, don't care so much if the car is old. They might think an older car is cool. They just don't want to ride in a dirty car.

He backed out of the garage and headed down the street.

As he neared the on-ramp to the freeway he saw a couple of girls at the side of the road, showing a lot of leg with the shorts they wore. He slowed. He scanned the area carefully because sometimes the girls stand out to hitch a ride but they have some guys with them hiding in the bushes. He saw no one else and when he got just past the girls he pulled over and stopped. His pulse pounded strongly in his throat as he reached across and opened the door.

Where are you going? he called as the girls came up to the door. His voice felt thick, he thought, and he hoped he didn't sound strange.

To the beach, one of them said as they both leaned over to peer in at him. They carried rolled towels, suntan lotion, and wore shirts with the tails tied around their waists. He was disappointed to see they were only about fourteen or fifteen.

Which beach? He thought that was good to ask. He didn't want them to think he would say just anything in order to have them jump into his car.

North Beach, the closest one said. They appeared to have accepted him.

Fine. I'm going right by there. Hop in.

The girl he thought cutest tugged the seat back forward so the other girl could get into the back. Then she slipped into the front seat and he put the car into motion. When he was comfortably onto the freeway the girl in front turned toward him, halfway around in her seat, so she could talk with the one in back.

These girls in this age group! He thought their behavior was provocative. This girl for instance: the way she was sitting, half turned around. Her full, firm breasts tightened her shirt against its buttons and her left knee nearly touched his thigh. Her bare legs were spread so suggestively that when he looked at her he momentarily envisioned her taking his hand and placing it against her crotch.

He felt the pressure of his heart beating, as if near his throat, move and press against his Levis. He forced himself to look back at the traffic.

The two girls talked about the different really super cars their boyfriends have and he couldn't think of anything at all to say. He just drove toward the beach and thought how nice it might be if the girls persuaded him to drive to a deserted place. But he couldn't think of what they would do after that without becoming preposterous. How experienced could these girls possibly be, he wondered. If anything were to happen it would have to be up to him and he couldn't even think of anything to say. He knew he had to at least say something; a person can't just do things without discussing them first. That is, he thought, not unless you do stupid things like rape and murder and he had no interest along those lines. None whatsoever.

What do your parents think about you hitchhiking to the beach? He