Imitation story of "Billy's Girl" by Gordon Jackson

Weekend Plans


It was finally time to clock out and head home. I saw Susan push the elevator button going down and grabbed my briefcase and walked to join her in waiting for freedom. We exchanged glances with subtle, awkward, nods that co-works usually do when ready to leave the work place. The elevator doors glided open and I outstretched my arm, allowing her to walk on first – like gentlemen do. Thanks, was all she said to me. I nodded once and stepped on as well. I inquired about her plans for the weekend and she causally told me nothing grand, that she was planning to do some work on her garden. She did not inquire back. I let that be that and returned my gaze to the panel above the door and watched the numbers count down as we descended closer and closer to the weekend. I felt bad for Susan if gardening was to be the highlight of her weekend.

I had bigger plans. A buddy of mine from college was coming to New York on business and wanted a night on the town, like in the good ole days. I made it home and changed into something more appropriate for the occasion and met him a block down from my apartment, and another block down from where we were headed – The Pin. I hadn’t ever been there before but I’d always heard good things about it around work. Heard it was a real classy joint with live music and dim lighting and good bourbon. Once we arrived we found a nice booth tucked away in the corner to catch up and drink. The atmosphere was great and so was the bourbon – I’d have to come back here with a girl, if I ever met one. The music changed to a classic Fleetwood Mac song, Landslide. I recognized it instantly and cast my gaze to the stage to see who was brave enough to attempt Stevie Nicks. She was a pretty young thing, in a simple black dress and heels, blonde hair parted down the middle with curls throughout. She looked to fit the part, but was fit to sing the part? As soon as her mouth opened and the lyrics began to flow I knew this wasn’t her first time with Nicks.

She did, what I believed to be, an excellent job; I think Joey would agree because our conversation sizzled out after a few verses. Wow, she’s got some fine pipes on her, huh? All I could do was nod. Something seemed so familiar about her. I finished my fourth bourbon during the third chorus and got a fifth, by the time the beautiful song had come to an end, so had I. The entire joint roared for her, and all she did was smile modestly down at the stage, looked back up and said thank you before she walked off the stage.

The following Monday I found my way to my desk and sat down to begin my mellow work when I heard the soft humming of Landslide coming from the elevator door. It was Susan, and she had just finished pulling back her curly blonde hair.

Excerpt from my collection The Loved and the Loveless

When You Left


You took everything
with you. The dresser that
was solely for you was empty.
I hated the hollow sound it made
when I slammed it shut in
disbelief. Your deodorant, cologne,
underwear and shoes all
painfully missing
from my room.

You took everything:
My heart, trust and happiness,
my plans for the future.
Gone in just a few flips
of a page of a note you left
on my desk.

You took everything.
that is, except for
your toothbrush.
That’s when I knew
it wasn’t truly