William Kosman Fiction

    It Hurts to Say Goodby Chapter Ten – El Siegel  How can you describe the myriad complexity of just one human being with words on a page? How can you even begin to paint a portrait with just a few brushstrokes on canvas? And how can you even begin to relate the relationship between two people in a volume?  Maybe a start is to tell this story, as I’m trying in this account. Faith Gruen was a person who gave to others. To me, she gave warmth and affection, maybe even love, but I’m still troubled with the word “love” because I was weak and I took more than I gave. She opened a new world for me, the world of poetry, and she worked to help me develop my skills and find my talent to express myself through poetry. And she placed a goal before me, to be a truly honorable and charitable human. The memories of her death and the fact that I was weak continue my pain. But it’s the positive memories that comfort me. I remember Faith in the images, the words, the touchings and ...

  Chapter Nine  It Hurts to Say Goodbye Chapter Nine – El Siegel  It was a Wednesday evening. I knew the “Wonder Words” crew was meeting at Gertie’s Pub.  I didn’t think it over, which is not exactly my character. I just grabbed a light jacket and told myself to go. I don’t know if it was the need for fresh air, creativity, companionship, or whatever, I just locked up my little Queen Village house and headed out for the twenty-minute walk.  The spring days were getting longer, and the evening half-light kissed every surface, the cobblestone streets, the historic facades, the trees that lined the streets. The lights along the sidewalks blinked on and off, as though they were confused by the time between night and day.  In my neighborhood, I walked past the bars and restaurants and shops. Even though it was midweek, throngs of people were out enjoying the spring evening. At one intersection, a miracle occurred; a driver stopped for me to cross the street. I a...

Chapter Eight  “It Hurts to Say Goodbye” Doug Boswell stood on Race Street and looked up at the massive concrete structure. This was it, the headquarters of the Philadelphia Police Department: The seat of power, The Roundhouse, not just one but two circular forms with bands of windows all around – like rings, just like jewelry.   Boswell was filled with a rush of new confidence. One telephone call from a secretary with a sexy voice did it. He was summoned to report to Captain William Cedric McAllister, the head of the department’s Narcotics Tactical Unit.  His star was rising; Boswell knew that. The bosses of the tactical unit were impressed by his last confidential memo;  he was sure. Now would come the congratulations from McAllister, known for his power within the department, maybe even ask him to join the unit. They needed him.  Boswell stepped forward, and the two glass doors rolled open automatically. There was just the slightest bounce to his step as...

  Chapter Seven "It Hurts to Say Goodbye"  Chapter Seven – El Siegel   There was loud knocking on my front door, and I felt a shot of panic. Could that be the Philly police? Jesus, I was flooded by a bunch of terrible possibilities.   It was only a few days since I talked with both of them, Boswell and Buckley, and I hoped – maybe it wasn’t realistic – that they’d give me more than a few days of peace. I could almost imagine their thinking: let the guy think he’s off the hook, and then hit him. He’ll blab everything to us.  But the knocking got louder. I had no choice.  I opened the door, and there he was. I found Patrick standing in front of me. I had a strange mixture of feelings. One was pleasure: I was struck by how handsome he was. He was dressed in a grungy way – jeans, t-shirt and what looked like an old sweat shirt. But he was looking at me with a slight smile and a kind of sideways glance, with his full head of chestnut hair and his blue ...

  Chapter Six "It Hurts to Say Goodbye"  Chapter Six – El Siegel  There’s one talent of mine I’m not proud of: I over-work things in my head. Once any kind of a troubling issue – an idea, an event or a person – enters my mind, it’s locked in there, and then it keeps working on me. Sure, I try to push that thing down, repress it so I’m not reminded of it, but it comes back, it rises up in my consciousness, over and over, like an obsession.    Like those two Philly cops: It was like a bad dream. I kept imagining their faces bobbing up in front of me, too close. And I had an idea what would happen. They said they wanted to talk to me, that was all. They said only a few questions, only a few minutes. Of course, I knew that was their sales pitch to get their foot in the door. Still, I knew I would have to talk with them at some time.  I thought, if I kept refusing to talk with them, their demand – and that’s what it was – would stay in my mind, keep coming back ...

Chapter Five  "It Hurts to Say Goodbye"   Chapter Five  It was Monday afternoon, and Lieutenant Doug Boswell had a problem: He hoped to start working his way out of the mess he found himself in. But there were just too many pieces in the puzzle – too many people and groups and separate agendas  – to hold in his head at one time, let alone to understand and organize all of the details and come up with a solution.   So, he had to follow his regular SOP: Fall back on his gut and his instincts and hope for the best.  Boswell’s first step was finding a convincing excuse for taking off without his new partner. He tried to sound serious and official when he announced he had errands to run.  Eddie Buckley’s reaction was predictable. The spunky sergeant cocked his head to one side and wore a quizzical smile. He might as well come out and said “You shittin’ me, man?” When Boswell added the admin tasks that he, Boswell, should have done days earlier, an...