New fiction: Sunrise in the North

Daniel Baumgarten sat in the radio booth, talked over the airwaves and pretended he was Big Daddy Guru B. It was a special treat for the Guru. On Sunday Mornings he would talk about life as a philosophical concept. He would talk about Love. The big Love. The capital L-O-V-E, Love. He would also play Jazz, The big Jazz. The capital J-A-Z-Z. Jazz.

It was different than his regular show. late nights from midnight to 4am, he would play Grunge, and alternative, a little Emo by bands that never got air play. That show was for late night cynics. misanthropes, and folks who listened to a skosh too much Tom Waits.

Sunday Mornings were about Dexter Gordon, Cannonball, Trane, and Art Blakey. On Sunday Mornings, Guru B. turned off his troubles and renewed his faith in an undeserving humanity.

That thought was punctuated by a PSA for rescue animals and a smiling face at the booth window. Looking up, Guru saw that North had changed her hair color again. It was cut short and accented her perfect cheek bones and oversized glasses.

North was the kind of beautiful that most men never notice. Most men are impressed with the natural look that comes from spending 3 hours at a makeup table and wearing painful high heels. North had woken up 45 minutes ago, showered, put on a tee and a pair of cutoffs, some hi top Chucks and went to score coffee and cigarettes.

Sometimes Guru wondered if North were a manifestation of an oncoming psychotic break. A figment of his Imagination. North had never been to the bar, never met any of his friends. She just appeared when Guru needed to keep the shadows at bay.

Slipping a cart into the slot, the sounds of Diz and Bird from a live show filled the air, and Guru left the booth to meet north on the balcony that the radio management called the smoking lounge.

North lit two cigarettes like the heroes in old movies and handed one to Guru.

Guru nodded and took a long drag.

They never spoke on Sunday mornings. They smoked, drank coffee, watched the sun rise, but never a word of conversation. Epiphanies and observations were for breakfast at the 24 hour diner in Greektown. That was later.

Guru often wondered if this was Love, The big Love. The capital L-O-V-E, Love. The thing he often talked about on the radio, the thing he never had known. He put it out of his head. He wasn’t even sure that North was real, even if he had pictures to prove it.

He turned his attention from the sunrise and just looked at her. He was about to speak when his lips were met by her finger and a soft. “Shush”

“Don’t ruin it.” she said and snuggled up closer to him. “can’t you see, this is perfect.”


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