Welcome to the intro video
and an excerpt from the ninth post of my weekly serial, “Sketches from the Café
Confictura.” If you’d like to share a comment, please use the comment option at the end of this excerpt. To follow the mystery of Applewood, and get recipes
from Mrs. Creaverton, writing advice from Roscoe Belesprit, and fashion tips
from the Fastionista, please visit www.ClarissaJeanne.com for new posts every
Tuesday at 2:30 p.m. EST.
While Mrs. Creaverton’s been
warring with Nessie and now the Merchants Association, and Violet’s been
running hot and cold on Doc Graham’s invitation to dinner (she’s rescheduled
twice now), Roscoe’s had a bit of a mystery on his hands. We still had no idea
who the strange man was who’d eavesdropped on his salon last week. Mr. X had
lurked in the shadows, curled like a vulture’s talon over his tea. Even more
unsettling than that? He didn’t just go away. He’s been circling.
Anytime Roscoe’s seen him
it’s been a quick glimpse--while Roscoe’s in line at the grocery store he’ll
see Mr. X dash through the sliding exit doors; when Roscoe goes out for his
brisk morning walk he’ll see Mr. X walk even brisker around a corner up ahead.
Each time, Roscoe calls out to the strange man, and then the man disappears.
Sometimes, it seems, literally. This is how Roscoe’s been able to rule out at
least one possibility of who this guy is.
“He’s not the government,”
Roscoe told me yesterday over lattes and Mrs. C’s trial recipe of vegan
blueberry cake.
“Why would the government be
following you?” I asked.
“I said he’s not the
government.”
“Yeah,” I said, “but why
even consider the possibility?”
“My teaching style might be
construed as anarchic at times.”
“Anarchic?” I said. “Hey, I
wouldn’t put it past you to overthrow one of those blogs on writing that just
regurgitates the same bad advice over and over--and, in fact, I’d commend you
for overthrowing them--but I don’t think you’ve got the government too
worried.”
“No?”
“Roscoe,” I said, “you’re
teaching twenty-two-year-olds the difference between writing literature and
writing whatever comes into their heads. No one’s going to DEFCON 1 over you.”
I love Roscoe, but sometimes it’s evident that growing up with a Civil Rights
activist mom who saw the shadowy side of government took its toll.
“Sure,” he said, “because
those in power have never tried to silence literature or teachers of it.”
Well, okay. He had a point
there.
He added, “Then there’s my
ex-wife.”
“You think she’s worried
you’ll overthrow the government?”
“She wishes I would.”
“I don’t think I knew you
were married.”
“Oh, yes. It was a civil
separation. I saw her at our daughter’s wedding a couple years ago. She left me
because I wasn’t politically active enough. She’s been on more than a few
lists, I’m sure.”
“I see,” I said. “Well,
then, in that case how do you know this guy isn’t from the government?”
Roscoe shook his head as he
sipped his coffee. “He’s too quiet. They like there to be a to-do when they
take in a rabble-rouser,” he explained. “My mother taught me that. Rather,
those who arrested her, gave her trouble with the IRS, harassed her, they
taught me that. They make a show of their strength. Making a to-do gives the
public a sense of security, whether it’s really there or not. ‘We’re looking
out for you, we caught the bad guy.’ At the same time, they can deepen divides
in the masses. Inevitably, some will side with the activist, some against him.
It benefits the establishment to make a show of their arrests. I’m fairly
certain that’s the only explanation why Cops has been on the air for so
long.”
“The government does like
its secrets, though,” I said. “They’ve got their dark corners.”
“Yes,” he said. “But those
corners are so dark, few people know they’re even there. Those operatives don’t
chance coming out from the shadows to get you. They pull you in.”
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