Tina Eady

eadyBorn in the Bronx, Tina is one of seven children who used books as an escape. “Reading, you can go into to another space and time,” she says, “and books were a comfort to me. Books are like old friends who come to visit; when they leave, you always remember them fondly." She went to SUC- Fredonia when she graduated high school. "I picked the school farthest away from home and went there." Some years later she realized she loved the challenge of writing, and decided to try her hand at it. She took a few Journalism courses, and currently attends West Los Angeles College to develop her writing ability.


(298 words without title)

"What did he mean ‘a good time’? She tried to remember, but couldn’t."

She woke up with cotton mouth. Walking to the kitchen she was still a little unsteady on her feet. She could feel friction on her insides, still burning from the alcohol.

I’m going to have to stop drinking, she thought.

She took a glass from the cabinet and opened the refrigerator door. The cool air felt good as she poured the water and began to drink.

What happened last night? She was in the bar, the live band was playing the kind of music she could dance to all night, and she did.

The phone rings, “Hi, Terri, I had a good time last night,” he said.

What did he mean “a good time”? She tried to remember, but couldn’t.

“I had a good time, too,” she said.

She didn’t remember his name and was too embarrassed to ask. Did he bring me home last night? she wondered. No, she remembered walking the eight blocks home, wearing just one boot.

“Hey, Terri, do you want to get something to eat later?” he asked.

“Well maybe, I have some work to do, so let’s talk later,” she replied hurriedly.

“Okay, you have my phone number?” he asked.

“Hmm,” she said, trying to remember what she wore.

“It’s in your phone,” he said.

Under what name? she wondered.

“You don’t remember?” he asked.

She felt hot. “Vaguely,” she said.

“We sat outside the club, you couldn’t walk and you wouldn’t let me drive you, so we just sat talking,” he reminded her.

She remembered sitting, slurring some words.

“By the way, my name is Jon,” he said cheerfully.

“Hi, Jon,” she said with a sigh of relief.

Now, if only I could find my other boot, she thought, as she went outside to re-trace her steps.

Wrong Place

(295 words without title)

"Staring at him, her brown eyes as wide as nickels against her cinnamon skin."

The high tide crashing on the rocks woke her from a nap. She took a deep relaxing breath and sat up in the bed watching the tide leaving.

Dexter walked up the stairs and peeked in. His face was unshaven and his somber eyes were red.

“I brought you some tea Gina,” placing it on the nightstand.

She sighed deeply; her brown eyes glanced over the room past him. She abruptly got up from the bed and jumped into the shower in as if to shake off a flea. The warm water felt like a blanket wrapping her body in its comfort. She let the water wash over her hair and on her face, something she didn’t normally do. She wished he would leave.

“Do you need anything?”

She appeared in a heavy terry-towel pink bathrobe, the water still dripping from her hair. Staring at him, her brown eyes as wide as nickels against her cinnamon skin.

“Yes, I need you not to have slept with that girl, but you did, didn‘t you?”

He put his head down and in a low voice, thinking to himself, but speaking aloud, “ I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You were thinking about yourself, and your little penis.”

“It was a mistake. “

“Her husband—”

“—Her husband knocked on my door to tell me that she was pregnant by you! And we’re all working in the shop. I’m working my ass off.”

“I’m so sorry, we’ll get someone else to work in the store and start over.”

“Yes, get someone else to work because I won’t be there.”

He let out a deep breath and ambled, head first, down the stairs. Watching the tide go out from the living room window, he thought, she’ll never take me back.

Editor: LinckeN@WLAC.edu | West Los Angeles College | 9000 Overland Ave, Culver City CA 90230 | www.wlac.edu
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