I didn’t want to go to the party. I knew I would run into him and I knew he would bring her. My replacement. How could he move on so soon when I still hadn’t filled his side of the closet?
Daily Post
The Simple Truth
You were my world. The sun rose and fell on you. My eyes reflected the goodness and the light that I saw in you. You were everything to me. And I was just an afterthought to you. It was simple. You didn’t love me the way that I loved you. In fact, you didn’t love me at all.
Hide-And-Seek
A Gods of P B & J Story
Hiding behind a bush, I felt my knee joints stiffen in the crisp late March air. I had somehow gotten roped into an early (annoyingly early) Saturday morning game of hide-and-seek with my children, Noah and Hannah, and my bestie Adam and his daughter Katie. Adam and I had forged a platonic bond since my ex-husband practically disappeared from our lives and Adam stepped in to guide me through the early stages of single parenthood, being a widow himself. The five of us spent a lot of free time together. Which I didn’t generally consider a bad thing. Adam was quite unaware of his attractiveness. All the moms in Noah and Katie’s kindergarten class admired his broad shoulders, his muscular build, his Romanesque features, his perpetually tousled, slightly longish brown hair, his chocolate colored eyes framed by thick, dark lashes. These were things I, of course, had never fallen victim to, being besties and all. I mean – awkward, right?
A cascade of water droplets from an overhanging tree branch rained down on my purple and grey beanie and broke me from my thoughts. “Gotcha mommy. This was so easy. You’re it!” Noah danced around while his animated voice rang out, calling everyone else from their hiding spots. I stood slowly, stretching my groaning muscles. Apparently, every single part of my body was in open rebellion because my first morning cup of coffee was still sitting on the kitchen counter, likely cold and the cream congealed. I silently mourned the loss of caffeine. The gods of peanut butter and jelly were clearly not smiling on me today.
We all gathered around the large oak tree in the middle of the park – base camp. Noah continued his dance, pleased with himself for getting the jump on me. I let him have his victory, telling him what a good hunter he would make. “You know kid, you could be an FBI agent. Track down the bad guys, find their hiding places. You’re a natural.” I playfully ruffled his hair and he beamed a bright smile at me. “Okay, I’m it. Everyone find a place to hide. And this is the last round. Then we go for breakfast.” Cheers erupted from the girls, who were already bored after the first round.
I closed my eyes, leaned into the tree and began to count. “One, two three.” I could hear footsteps scurrying away from me. There was no use in trying to figure out where the sounds led. Without my morning dose of caffeine, my mind was in a fog so concentration was pointless. “Four, five.” I let out a deep sigh and rested my forehead against the tree, wishing I was back in my warm bed, snuggled under the comforter. I loved my kids with all my heart but this single parenting gig was taking its toll. Doing it all, all the time, alone – that wasn’t in my life plan. “Six, seven.” Adam had been kind enough to watch my kids a couple of nights to give me some ‘me time’. Still, it wasn’t so much about having time to myself as having only myself to lean on. Well, except for my bestie. But I couldn’t impose on him forever.
“Eight, nine.” I jumped when I felt strong hands grasp my sides. I turned and, in one smooth movement I found myself encircled in Adam’s arms. “Shhh.” He put his finger to my lips and grinned then bent his head down and softly kissed me. My immediate reaction was to freeze. No wait, wrong game, this was hide-and-seek. Wait, this wasn’t a game. Was he serious? His lips felt warm and soft against mine, pressing gently with no sense of urgency. He was serious. I relaxed into it and my lips parted slightly, allowing the kiss to deepen. I let out a soft moan and felt a crimson blush creep over my face, which thankfully he couldn’t see since he was kissing me. I’m not certain how, but my hands ended up resting against his chest and for just a moment everything in the universe felt right. For just a moment.
“Mommy, you gotta count all the way to ten.” Noah’s voice called out from his hiding spot. Adam and I tried to fight the laughter. He kissed me again. “I’ll go hide. Come find me.” He winked and trotted away. I closed my eyes, silently thanking and cursing the gods of peanut butter and jelly. I wasn’t sure what kind of trouble they had just gotten me into but I was certain I was in for a wild ride.
A Force of Nature
He came into my life like a soft spring rain, calm, refreshing, a new beginning of sorts – and left with the force of a late summer hurricane, strong, deadly, leaving nothing but devastation in his wake.
The Race
I thought love was a marathon.
He looked at it more as a sprint.
Is it any wonder we never crossed the finish line together.
Torture
The way you looked at me, it was as if you could see into my soul. When you touched me I felt shock waves travel through my skin. It was both exhilarating and terrifying to allow someone to get so close. Loving you was such exquisite torture.
Kryptonite
I stood against the wall holding a glass of wine in my right hand, my left hand resting between the wall and the small of my back. My legs were crossed at the ankles and now I wish I’d been brave enough to wear the three-inch raspberry heels that would have set-off the silver scoop neck dress I wore to the fundraiser. Staring across the room I saw him, my kryptonite, Alexander Jenkins. No matter. To him I was unseen. A fly on the wall so to speak. After a very casual encounter eight months earlier it was clear to me that I would only fall prey to his deadly charm and love-em-and-leave-em ways. Still, a girl must hope to be noticed, admired, desired. Even if there’s a snowball’s chance in hell it will lead anywhere.
I continued my unabashed visual assault on his perfect body. Jesus. It was as if Adonis himself had passed his genes along. His dark blonde hair was long enough to run his hands through – a subconscious habit that left him with tousled looking after-sex hair. Sapphire blue eyes that were no doubt plucked from the heavens. Perfect facial features that were the envy of every plastic surgeon on the Upper East Side. He had a rigorous pre-dawn work-out schedule that kept him looking more like a superhero and less like a business savant. My mouth did it’s half wolfish grin thing just when he turned and caught my eye and my heart skipped a beat.
He locked eyes with me, returning a devilish grin of his own, and strolled over to where I stood. “Victoria, you’re looking,” he took more than a moment to look me up then down then up again, “scrumptious.”
“It’s nice to see you too, Alex.” I tried to keep my voice even, sipped from my wine to steel my nerves.
“What are you doing standing here on the fringes? A gorgeous woman like you should be the very center of attention.” He took my hand and led me forward into the crowd. Whispering into my ear, he gave me shivers. “I’ve missed you darling. Eight months I’ve looked for you. You’re quite the mystery. Don’t think I’ll let you slip away that easily this time.” I smiled with a mixture of apprehension and gratitude.
Stepping Back
The last few days I haven’t been capable of stringing together more than a few words, maybe a sentence at most. Every futile attempt has ended in a puddle of frustration. I struggle to find a story at every turn. So I give up today and look forward to tomorrow with hope that I will find my inspiration. Perhaps like a butterfly, if I give up the chase and just sit still, it will alight on my shoulder.
Home
I’ll let the porch light shine just a few weeks more. Maybe he’ll return in the middle of the night. I won’t ask him where he’s been or why he left. I’ll take his hand and lead him to the bed and show him how much I’ve missed him.
Infinite
There are infinite ways to love me.
But only one way to capture my heart.
Liar
“Where were you last night?” I heard his voice as I tip-toed across the living room floor in the early dawn hours. I thought I had been quiet when I came in the door at 5 am. I took off my red stilettos before I entered our apartment. The sun had yet to break the eastern horizon and his alarm wouldn’t sound for another 45 minutes. I thought I would be safely in bed by then. Until I heard his gravelly voice call out from across the darkened room.
I stalled for time, searching my mind for an excuse. “Can you be more specific?” Standing still where I had frozen when I first heard his voice, my heart raced with fear. I had come close to being caught before and the feeling had been exhilarating but this, this was something altogether terrifying.
“How much more specific shall I be?” His voice sounded calm on the surface, but I detected the razor’s edge on his words. “You went out with Margo and Jillian at 8 last night. It’s 5 am and you’re sneaking in the door holding your heels in your hands. You look like you don’t want to get caught. The question is, what have I caught you doing?”
My eyes had adjusted to the darkness and I could just make out his face with the moonlight through the window dancing off his profile. He was classically handsome, with short brown hair and green eyes. His face looked almost as if it had been carved of marble by one of the masters, but had enough flaws to make him human – relatable. The stubble on his face was amazingly sexy and, were it not for the circumstances, I might have crawled to him on my hands and knees and allowed him to take what he wanted.
This was a damn fine time to decide he was worth staying for. Lie or truth? Which would better work to my advantage? “Margo had way too many. I took her home and she was sick. Everywhere. I stayed to hold her head while she was sick, cleaned her up, tucked her in bed then cleaned her house.” I made a mental note to talk to Margo as soon as possible. Crossing the room, I knelt before him and stroked his thigh. “I took off my shoes because I didn’t want to wake you. I’m sorry if I worried you.” As I laid my head in his lap I closed my eyes, the flash of guilt tearing through me like a knife. I’d learned my lesson. This time.
Waves
I float on a sea of emotions. Untethered, anchorless, tossed about on the waves. Powerless, I ache for calm but only get caught in the swells. An endless swirling vortex from which there is no escape.
Adventures in Plumbing
A Gods of P B & J Story
“Mommy, there’s water in the toilet.” Noah came running from the bathroom, crashing into my legs as I rounded the corner from the kitchen. “Of course there’s water, silly goat. There’s supposed to be water in the toilet.” I ruffled the short blonde hair on his head playfully.
“No, I mean LOTS of water. It’s going over the sides.”
No. No, no. This could not be happening. Not again. I ran full speed to the bathroom to see the toilet overflowing, water puddling on the tile floor and creeping perilously towards the doorway where the new wood floor started.
Think Kim, think. Trying not to panic I strained to think of what to do first. Normally I would yell for my husband. Except he had moved across the country with his colleague-slash-girlfriend, leaving me alone with our 8-year-old daughter and 6-year-old son. Bastard. Okay Kim, focus. I bent down and gripped the shut-off valve. It was stuck so I grabbed a towel and put all my force into it, falling forward on my knees and soaking my last pair of clean jeans in the process. At least it moved and, thankfully, the water stopped spilling over the edge of the bowl.
I sighed a quick breath of relief before I realized the lake on the floor was millimeters from the wood floor. Reaching into the cabinet, I grabbed a stack of freshly washed towels and threw them at the advancing pool. Once I had used my supply of towels the bulk of the water was gone, leaving only a slick sheen glossing the tiles. Careful not to slip, I went to inspect the toilet. I was tempted to stop and call Adam.
Adam had been a godsend. His daughter Katie was in Noah’s kindergarten class and he was a widower. Having been unexpectedly thrust into single parenthood, Adam had stepped in and helped me navigate the rough waters early on. Several times I had thanked the gods of peanut butter and jelly for sending him my way. But it was time for me to stand on my own two feet so I fought the urge and peered into the swirling waters of the clogged toilet.
Luckily Noah hadn’t gone Number 2 so I could stomach what I saw. Which was water and toilet paper. A lot of toilet paper. An awful lot of toilet paper. Again. I looked down at the empty roll on the holder. Taking a deep breath, I counted to ten before I screamed his name. “Noah!” There was no response. “NOAH ALEXANDER PIERCE, you better get your butt in here now!”
His innocent angelic face peeked around the corner and he held up one hand as if to signal STOP. “Mommy, I can esplain.” I bit my lip to keep from laughing because he was kind of adorable but he had nearly destroyed my floors and my toilet so he wasn’t getting a pass. “Go get the plunger from my bathroom.”
“Um, about that mom.” Was he serious with this? Adorable would only take him so far. “Noah what did you do?”
He defiantly put his hands on his hips, a habit he had recently picked up from his older sister Hannah. “We were playing Avengers and I was Thor and I needed a hammer and my stupid cheap toy hammer that Kyle sent at Christmas broke so I took the plunger and then it broke when Ben turned into the Hulk and tore it apart.” I tried to keep up with his run-on sentence and didn’t know where to start – calling his father by his first name (Kyle), insulting his father’s choice of toys (which I secretly kind of enjoyed), taking the plunger without permission or ruining it without telling me.
Of course, this left me in quite a pickle. I had no plunger, but I had already consumed a glass – okay, maybe two glasses (a tad bit oversized) of wine that evening so I clearly couldn’t drive to the store to buy a new plunger. I was going to have to call someone. Shit. The gods of peanut butter and jelly hated me.
I picked up my cell phone and scrolled to his name. Adam. My finger hovered on the call button. I really didn’t have much of a choice. I counted the rings. One. Two. Maybe he wouldn’t answer. Three. Four. I could call Kelly’s husband. Five. I let out a breath of relief. “Hey Kim, what’s up.” Shit.
“Adam. Hi. I wasn’t sure you’d answer. I’m not bothering you am I? Are you busy?” As usual my mouth just kept making words. “I’m not busy. Is everything okay?” I could hear the warmth in his deep voice and a blush crept over my face. This wasn’t good. What had started as an innocent friendship with Adam showing me the ropes of single parenthood had evolved into spending more and more time together. I couldn’t deny his good looks, impeccable manners, respect for women, the way he smelled like he had just stepped out of the shower no matter what time of day it was, even when he was sweaty he smelled like soapy sweat. Stop Kim, focus.
“Um, well, the thing is, uh, Noah sort of stopped up the toilet and I went for the plunger only to discover that he also ruined that playing Avengers so I have a toilet full of water and toilet paper and God knows what else.” I was grateful he couldn’t see the crimson color that was covering my face and chest. “Um sorry, too much information.”
I heard a low chuckle. “It’s okay. I was going to order pizza for Katie and me. How about I bring a plunger. I’ll fix the toilet and you can call in a pizza delivery order. I like sausage with extra cheese.”
I was glad he couldn’t see my goofy teenager grin through the phone line. “Sounds good. And Adam . . . thanks.” I looked up and thanked the gods of peanut butter and jelly for coming through once again.
Careless Whispers
I was crossing Haight Street when I saw him. Sitting next to her in the café. A younger, blonder version of me. Their bodies were angled towards each other, heads bent, nearly touching. Her hand rested on his knee and he brushed her long tresses back as he whispered into her ear; something funny because her head fell back and she laughed. I was too far to hear but I imagined a melodious tinkling sound and a lightning bolt of jealousy shot through my heart.
I stood on the street corner for minutes, only partially hidden from his line of sight. As if I wanted to be caught. I wanted to stop, I wanted to walk away, but I couldn’t stop staring. It was like I was looking at myself ten years earlier. Sitting with him, in the same café, listening to the same whispers, and laughing. Most of all I remember the laughing. It doesn’t happen often to me anymore.
Open Door
His hand closed on the front door knob. “I’m tired of fighting. It’s the same thing over and over. We never get past it.” Even though I knew his words were true, something in me still wanted to fight. I couldn’t let go of whatever stood between us.
He slowly opened the door and I felt the chill of the night air seep into the room. I turned my back in defiance, as if daring him. “If you walk out that door, don’t come back.” My voice wavered slightly with apprehension. The silence was killing me.
I slowly turned around and he was gone.
Ring in The New
Hopeful is a word
that hasn’t crossed my mind
in a very long time.
Doomed, gloomy, despair.
Morose, dejected, beaten.
These more accurately reflect
what I feel deep inside.
It’s as if a light inside me
has gone out, leaving me to wonder
if it will ever return.
Midnight begins a new year.
It’s really nothing special
except what we make it in our minds.
Just another day, another turn of the page.
Perhaps midnight is the time
when my light begins to burn again.
At least I’m hopeful.
Closure
Pushing myself off his chest I rolled onto the bed next to him, panting to catch my breath and sighing with satisfaction. Feeling completely exhausted but sated after our lovemaking, I knew it was probably a bad idea to be here with him. How many times in the past had he broken my heart? But he was like a drug to me. No, screw drugs. He was like a pair of Christian Louboutins. Expensive. Forbidden. Extravagant. Definitely out of my price range. But a soon as you slipped your foot inside and felt the soft leather mold to your skin you were hooked.
“That was amazing. You know we’re so good together. Why did we ever break up?” I didn’t answer his question, didn’t even look at him. I just picked a spot on the ceiling to focus on while his hands roamed over my breasts, my stomach, his lips dipped to kiss the soft spot on my neck, the place he knew gave me shivers. I took in a deep breath and wondered if I could forgive his transgressions. I wasn’t getting any younger. God knew, my mother reminded me on every phone call she made. I let out an involuntary shudder as he hit the sweet spot. “Baby, you know you want me as much as I want you. Why are you fighting it?” I bit my lip and closed my eyes, enjoying his teasing tongue exploring the most tender parts of my body.
With my eyes closed I should have just enjoyed the amazing feelings I was experiencing, but my mind took over and played a tug-of-war with my body. The incredible physical sensations were countered with the cognitive memories of how this had played out in the past. As his mouth nibbled at my ear I recalled the night he told me he was staying home sick, only to find him out at the same bar my friends took me to, hitting on a much younger woman who looked uncannily like me, a woman he left with and never mentioned to me. Squirming uncomfortably, he moved his focus to my breast and I shivered in delight as he sucked my nipple into his mouth, rolling it around playfully. I knew he cheated more than once. Did it matter to me now? He seemed contrite.
“Baby, you know it’s just you. It’s always been just you.” There. It was something in his tone. Insincerity. He was trying to sell it to me. I reached up and turned off the lamp, leaving the the room dimly lit, scarcely able to see his face. Maybe he was good for one more thing. “I think I can go again.”
Nativities and Pancakes
A Gods of P B & J Story
It was 6 o’clock on Christmas Eve and I was sitting in the church pew with my children, Hannah and Noah on either side of me. Next to Noah sat his kindergarten classmate Katie’s father Adam, my savior. Oh shit, I shouldn’t use that name to describe him in church. I looked at the crucifix high above the altar and mouthed the words “I’m so sorry, Jesus.” Adam chose that moment to look over at me and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He whispered over Noah’s head, “Who are you talking to?” Damn. I wasn’t good at making things up, especially with Adam. He was particularly hard to lie to. Not that I lied to him often. Only when it kept me from embarrassment. Like now. I quickly pushed my hands together in the international symbol of prayer. Adam knowingly nodded. He then looked to the back of the church where his daughter Katie was gathered with the other children participating in the Nativity. She was dressed like an angel. Literally.
I’m not certain how I got talked into going to the children’s mass at St. John the Baptist Roman Catholic Church on Christmas Eve. Adam had taken me under his wing after my husband moved across the country with his new girlfriend and left me to raise our two children alone. As a widower with a five-year-old daughter, he had more experience than I did doing the single parent thing. I hadn’t given a thought about how we would approach the Christmas holidays when Adam volunteered to climb into my attic and pull down all the boxes of decorations. He even took us to the tree lot to buy a real tree when he learned, to his shock and dismay, that we had an artificial tree. Having him and Katie around had made decorating the house a little easier and a lot less emotional. So, when he called and asked if we would be going to the Christmas Nativity at the church I of course said the first thing that came to mind, which happened to be the furthest thing from what I actually wanted to do. “Of course, we’re going, the kids are so excited, can’t stop talking about it. We wouldn’t miss it.” Really, I wanted to put on pajamas, lay in bed and watch Christmas movies on Lifetime while the kids played video games. Yet, here we were, all dressed up in church on Christmas Eve. Talk about alternate universes.
“Mommy, why are your knees jumping?” Noah’s whisper came out a little loudly and Adam tried to stifle his laugh as I pushed down on my knees and took in a deep breath. The truth was I hadn’t been in a Catholic Church since Noah was baptized. I didn’t have a problem with religion, I was a spiritual person and I believed in the power of prayer, especially in certain situations when certain men and my pride were involved at the same time. It was more a matter of the business of religion. When all was said and done, I liked it to be just me and God in the conversation, no need for an intermediary thank you very much. Nonetheless, the nuns at the Sacred Heart Academy had managed to instill a respectful attitude toward the Church that had lasted my entire life.
As the strains of the pipe organ began I felt the rush of air as everyone around me stood and my instincts kicked right in, quickly pulling myself upright with one hand on each of my children, tugging them upward. I could almost hear Sister Agnes in my ear telling me to pull my shoulders back and stand straight. As the processional passed on the way towards the altar I smelled the aromatic scent of the incense, heard the familiar clang of the chains of the thurible as the priest marched forward. Suddenly my heart began to race. Familiar words echoed in my head. “It has been six years since my last confession.” “In the name of the father, and of the son . . .” “Bless us oh Lord, and these thy gifts.” “Hail Mary, full of Grace.” A cacophony of words struck from out of the blue and threatened to overwhelm my thoughts. Was this my penance? Worse, was this my purgatory? My knees threatened to buckle and I grasped the pew in front of me until my knuckles were white. Adam noticed and put his warm hand over mine. Looking into his chocolate brown eyes I noticed the crinkles around his eyes when he smiled. I smiled back and my heartrate slowed.
I managed to get through the mass by rote. Who knew religion had muscle memory? With a little prodding, Hannah and Noah were getting the hang of the ups and downs, literally, of a Catholic mass. At one point Hannah leaned into my ear and said “I think all this sitting and standing and kneeling is ridiculous.” And although she was only seven, I swear she sounded just like my seventeen-year-old self. When the time came for the Nativity, Adam put Noah on his lap for a better look and we all clapped when we saw Katie looking sweetly angelic. I saw a few tears slip down Adam’s cheek and I reached up to wipe them away but he was too quick and beat me to it.
Finally, the hour was over. Ever respectful, we stood as the recessional hymn played and the aromatic incense flooded the room once again. We walked to the back of the church where Katie was waiting for us. She ran to Adam, “Daddy, did you see me?”
“I did see you Katie-Q, you were the most beautiful angel I’ve ever seen.” He pulled her up into his arms and swung her around. While Adam exchanged greetings with several families, I stood with my kids somewhat awkwardly since we didn’t belong to the church and didn’t know many people there. Adam suddenly turned with a red face. “Kim, I’m so sorry. You don’t know anyone here do you? I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
“Bad manners Daddy.” Katie chided her father with her fingers shaking at him.
“Well, I guess we’ll have to make it up to them. How about a pancake dinner at our house?” Adam looked at Hannah, Noah and me for approval. You didn’t have to ask twice. Hannah and Noah loved pancakes and I loved not cooking. It was a win/win. Once again I thanked the gods of peanut butter and jelly for giving me such a great friend.
I Am Not A Writer
We all have our struggles from time to time.
Whether we call it our muse or our voice or our talent, makes no difference.
The truth lies in the knowledge that the words we write are fleeting.
Some days they flow easily, like a mighty river, with limitless possibility.
Other days they stutter, we pull them one by one painstakingly, our hearts unable to speak coherently.
The words are like raindrops on the scorched earth.
For a while now I haven’t felt.
When I write, the words ring hollow.
I don’t feel the emotions flow from my fingertips as I did before.
The words I write don’t seem to have any deeper meaning than the ink on the page.
Is it true then, am I merely forestalling the inevitable truth?
I am not a writer.
Cliffhanger
The room was decorated in shades of pale ivory, cream and beige with strategic splashes of gold. As Lara walked in she felt her heart begin to beat faster, her instincts telling her to turn around but her pride telling her to keep walking. She took a flute of champagne off the silver platter carried by a passing waiter and lifted it to her crimson tinged lips, sipping slowly, appreciating the dry, crisp liquid on her tongue. Knowing her hosts, it had to be the finest vintage, likely imported. The haute cuisine on the menu she recognized from the top caterer in the city. It all seemed a bit ostentatious for her taste. Then again, she had not only divorced her cheating husband, but divorced herself from the high society of the city.
Lara had only returned at the request of her one remaining friend at the top, Candace Livingston. They had been college roommates and Candace had begged her to attend this gala fundraiser. She’d reluctantly agreed; she had to buy a new dress for the occasion because she no longer owned anything acceptable for something of this scale. When she left Peter, she vowed to change her life and she had followed through, completely overhauling, simplifying, throwing out the old and ushering in a new, improved Lara.
Her golden blonde hair was pulled back into a simple chignon, accentuating her thin neck. The scoop neckline of her black satin dress left her flawless skin on display and, with no jewelry to distract, any eyes would be drawn to the creamy soft expanse of her collarbone. The sweeping floor-length gown hid the plain black satin heels bought at the discount shoe store, which would surely stand out in a room full of Jimmy Choo’s and Louboutin’s. Not that she cared, but she didn’t want the attention. The more she could blend in the easier this night would be.
With her heart rate returning to a normal pace, she scanned the room for Candace. She’d only gotten the one phone call with a hand-delivered invitation so it felt like she was in a spy novel. Happy for the low light in the room, she had yet to be recognized by any of her old acquaintances; although it had been five years since she had left the circuit. Finally, she spotted the signature reddish-brown hair of her friend, fashioned into an elegant crown braid for the night. When Candace caught sight of Lara she discreetly motioned for her to join their table.
As she approached Candace pulled her into a tight hug and whispered, “I promise you don’t have to stay long.” They moved away from one another and Candace began introductions all around, as Lara had never met anyone sitting at the table. After fifteen minutes of polite conversation, Candace and Lara casually walked away. Keeping her voice low, Candace finally confessed why she had asked Lara to attend. “Peter is here.” Lara looked up in surprise, eyes wide open, then made a move as if to leave. Candace put her arm out in a blocking motion. “Before you decide to leave, there’s something you should know about him.”
Women
(A little late for this word prompt)
As I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, I stared at my reflection it wasn’t like me to primp for a date. I was normally the type of girl who didn’t play up her looks for attention, relying instead on my natural wit, intelligence and charm. If a man didn’t like me for what was on the inside then he didn’t deserve to be seen with the outside, which I must admit could be quite impressive with the right amount of effort.
So it was more than a little troubling that I would go to such lengths, so early on, to impress a man I barely knew based solely on my looks. I stopped applying my eyeshadow and ran through my memories. What had he said when we met? He loved the Cubs. Well, I would have pulled my hair in a ponytail and pulled on a comfy pair of sweats so that wasn’t it. Continuing with the mascara, I carefully laid down the first layer. Then, holding the wand just above my eye it hit me. He told me, “I remember when my mother used to sit at her dressing table getting ready for dates with dad. She told me that women could achieve anything, but the sign of a true woman was not one who would do anything to prove that she could, but one who would prove that she would do anything for her true love.” He went on to tell me that his mother raised four successful, well-adjusted children and died four days after his father, her true love.
This man had learned about true love from a mother who knew the value of women and still primped for her lover. That kind of love isn’t the shiny outside wrapper our eyes are immediately drawn to, but the prize inside the wrapper, the one you savor. She had achieved something that is rarely valued these days, not getting an advanced education or having a stellar career. She raised decent children, she helped create the future. If putting on makeup for date night made her any less of a woman in someone’s eyes, they’re the fool for not seeing the truth. Women are strong, not because they want to be and not because they have to be. They just are.
Friends?
She had a decision to make. It wasn’t going to be easy. Things like this never were. It would break every single fiber in her heart if she turned away and said good-bye. But what choice did she have? She could pretend it had never happened, that she hadn’t heard the malicious words said by her so-called friends, take the high road once again and pretend that being left out of their activities, something they thought was a secret, didn’t cut her to the core.
Or she could face the truth head on and admit to herself that although they told her she was a cherished friend and a vital part of their inner circle, their lies were only meant to assuage their own guilt. The irony was that she had no trouble being alone; they had insisted on including her in their group, one in which she never felt comfortable, never quite belonged.
It’s only when you open your heart that you allow it to be broken.
Second Thoughts
She was starting to have second thoughts about leaving. Could she really do this alone? She put her hand to her tender belly, just beginning to swell. It was better this way. She had to believe they would be better on their own, without him. As much as she wanted her baby to grow up with a father, she refused to risk subjecting a child to the potential emotional abuse that he had inflicted on her. So, she had lied and she ran as far as she could. It was better this way.
Fate
Those long hot summer days that stretched into warm starry nights we spent together planning, loving, dreaming. Youthful innocence gave way to the throes of first love. Lying on a blanket in a tangle of arms and legs, words seemed trivial. We were on another dimension altogether.
I relish the memories of you and me together, our whole lives stretched out before us. Before the cruel hand of fate stepped in to make a different decision.
sincerity
“I love you.” He whispered into my ear as his fingers trailed softly down my arm and his lips tenderly dipped into the space where my neck and shoulder met. I tensed slightly at his touch, hoping he didn’t pick up on it. He didn’t know that I knew about her. Perhaps his words were sincere, but I couldn’t be certain they were meant only for me.
My Words, His Truths
I opened my heart and bared my soul and poured out all of my emotions to him and he used my own words to bludgeon me with his truths.
Sisters
“I know you are but what am I?” My voice echoed my older sisters’ in a copycat singsong as I stuck my tongue out at her and disappeared around the corner to hide from her. We were staying at my parent’s house for Thanksgiving weekend and our inner children had come out to play. I heard my mom call out from the kitchen where she was pulling plastic dishes of leftovers out of the refrigerator for dinner.
“Girls, behave. I can’t believe you’re acting this way. You’re grown women.” The rest of her words were garbled as she stuck her head inside the fridge, most likely looking for the sweet potato casserole my father had finished at breakfast. He could never resist it, even in the morning.
I ducked into my bedroom and flopped onto my bed, looking around with a bit of nostalgia. My mother had left everything the same as the day I left for college six years earlier. The posters on the walls had faded, the boys in them were now forgotten, replaced by newer, younger models and revered by girls who didn’t know better and had no worries, at least as far as I was concerned. Sometimes I wished I could go back in time.
Jillian finally found me, peeking her head around the corner. “What’s the matter, you’re not gonna get all grown up on me now are you?” She nudged me over and laid on the twin-sized bed next to me, both of us squished together hanging on for dear life.
We both stared at the poster on the ceiling above the bed, very strategically placed, and I asked her, “Do you remember the time when all the tires on Danny Smith’s car went flat during the homecoming football game?” I bent my head towards hers so they were touching.
“Yeah, who could forget. The quarterback’s car got punked in the middle of a crowded parking lot during the biggest game of the year. It was legendary. I wish I knew who did it. Danny dumped me right before homecoming. Whoever let the air out of his tires was a hero to me.”
I turned to look at her and smiled. She sat straight upright. “YOU? You did that? Cara, why didn’t you tell me?” Her eyes started to get teary.
“I was afraid you would start bragging to everyone and I’d get in trouble. But nobody messes with my big sister. Not even the star quarterback. Especially the star quarterback.” I grinned at Jillian just as she pulled me up into her arms and squeezed me tight.
“Care-Bear, I love you.”
“Right back at you Jilly Bean.”
Michael
Emily walked out of the bakery with the fresh baguette for dinner and carried the bag along with the others from the market. She was cooking dinner for her new boyfriend tonight and wanted everything just right. She smiled thinking of Zac. After the death of her boyfriend, it had taken her a long time to come out of her self-imposed exile and re-enter the land of the living. Zac had been patient and allowed her to reach this level of intimacy on her own terms. It was something she not only appreciated but adored about him.
As she turned the corner at 45th Street her breath caught in her throat. It was Michael. Standing on the corner, as if nothing had happened. But Michael was dead. Her heart began to beat rapidly. The bags she held fell to the ground. The world spun out of focus except for the man on the corner. Michael. She screamed his name but he didn’t turn, then she realized it had only been in her imagination. The crosswalk sign turned green and he began to move forward. She didn’t want to lose him. She lurched forward awkwardly, pushing the strangers around her with no more than a weak “sorry”. When she reached him, her heart was pounding so hard she could hear the beats in her head, she thought everyone around her could hear them as well. She touched him on the shoulder, “Michael?”, afraid of the answer.
He turned, confused at first. His eyes were identical in feature, but lacked the spirit of Michael’s. She knew and her heart fell. It was eerie how much he looked like Michael. But it wasn’t her love. “I’m sorry, I’m not Michael. He was my brother. Did you know him?” Emily wanted to cry. She wanted to scream, to ask Michael why. Why didn’t you tell me you had a brother? But it didn’t matter now. Really, did it matter?
“No, I’m sorry. I must have mistaken you for someone else. I’m sorry.” It was easier this way. For both of them. She retreated without taking her eyes off him. He looked so much like Michael.
Decision
I thought and thought all day long then made the giant decision to not write a daily prompt today.
Bridge to Nowhere
I took a bridge to nowhere and found myself on the other side of tomorrow.
Susan Jarreau - Of Dreams and Disasters 