Sitting alone in the darkness, the silence ringing in her ears, she tasted the bitter pain of loneliness and regret.
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Modern Day Warrior
She had to learn to shed the armor of perfection. She was her most authentic self when she was vulnerable and flawed and exposed. It was raw and scary and terrifying and brave all at once. It takes a true warrior to wear the beauty of imperfection.
Yin and Yang
I had a lengthy, semi-humorous post about Google searches, the word “lifestyle” and condoms. Long story short, my snarky and sarcastic sense of humor does not translate well to the written word. I’ll leave that to the expert humor bloggers. If you don’t follow any, I can recommend a few. After all, everyone needs a little humor in their life. And perhaps tomorrow’s word will better lend itself to my melancholic and angsty style of writing. Life is all about balance. Humor and angst. Yin and yang.
False Start
I stirred
slowly at first
then startled wide awake
heart racing and gasping for breath
panicked again at the thought
of another day without you.
Fool’s Gold
I was such a fool, looking for a reason to stay when there was none.
Opaque
Her heart felt like the opaque windows in the living room; openings to the world which didn’t allow any light to shine in.
She’s A Head Case
A Gods of P B & J Story
I stood on the top rung of the ladder holding the garden hose in one hand while the other hand pulled gunk out of the gutters. My face contorted in disgust at the mushy mixture of decomposed leaves, pollen and what looked like deceased insects; although, I didn’t try very hard to confirm the last one. My children playing in the yard below me were the only thing keeping me from vocalizing the string of curse words circling in my head.
This was a job my ex-husband had normally taken care of, and one I couldn’t afford to outsource. I had already relied too heavily on my BFF/single dad partner in crime/angel of mercy Adam, (whose daughter Katie was in my Noah’s kindergarten class) to help with these “manly” chores. As a newly dedicated feminist I was determined to do this one on my own. I just had to keep from puking my lunch up and I’d be fine. Or at least I would eventually recover from the emotional trauma of dead bugs under my fingernails. In a day or two. A week tops. SO GROSS!!
“Mommy, can I ride my bike?” Noah had recently gotten a new bike for his birthday and I could barely keep the kid off it. I also considered buying stock in whichever company makes band-aids. I was pretty sure they would make a killing on me by Noah’s eighteenth birthday.
“Sweetie, you have to wait until I’m finished and I can watch you.” I yelled the words over my shoulder since I was somewhat precariously balanced. “Hannah, are you down there?”
“But I don’t need to be watched. I’m a expert.” He yelled back at me and I heard the sound of his feet on the concrete driveway and pictured him running to get his helmet. Hannah hadn’t answered me so I wasn’t certain if she was watching him. “I promise to be careful.”
“Noah Alexander Pierce don’t even think about riding that bicycle!” I turned slightly on the step to get a look at him, forgetting about the water gushing from the hose in my hand. I lost my traction and my feet slipped off the ladder. I let out a shriek as I free fell a few rungs down before grabbing onto the ladder for dear life.
My heart raced and I took in a deep breath. Whew, that was a close one. The gods of peanut butter and jelly must have been looking out for me. I almost . . . unfortunately that thought never got completed because my wet hands couldn’t maintain their grip on the ladder and I fell the rest of the way to the grass below.
I woke up in the ambulance, groggy and confused and strapped to a backboard. I felt wrapped up like an Egyptian mummy. Minus the cool makeup. I still managed to put up a good struggle and the paramedics had to subdue me. “Where are my kids? They’re alone. I need to be home.”
“It’s ok ma’am. (Ma’am?!?!?) Your neighbor has your kids. You took a nasty fall and we need to get you checked out. Just relax.” I fell from a ladder, lost consciousness and I was in an ambulance alone while my children were home with Jessica, probably scared out of their minds. It’s not like I was in a freaking day spa. Relax? Seriously? What kind of pep talk was that?
Five hours, one CT scan, one MRI and 3 X-rays later and the doctors boiled it down to a concussion and a sprained wrist. A $6000.00 concussion and sprained wrist. The nurse brought the discharge papers and trailing behind her was a tall figure, my angel of mercy, Adam. “My babysitter is at your house with the kids. We’ll get you out of here and safe at home.” His voice was soothing and comforting and I was relieved he had come to my rescue – again. Then I realized I was in a flimsy hospital gown that didn’t leave much to the imagination. I pulled the sheet a bit higher across my chest. “Right, I’ll just wait outside while you get changed.” I noticed the red tinge on his cheeks as he ducked out of the room.
Once home I changed into a comfy pair of pajamas and brushed my teeth. Adam got me settled in my bedroom. “The kids are sleeping. Katie is in Hannah’s room. The doctor said I should wake you every hour to check on you. I’ll be on the floor in Noah’s room if you need me.”
“Adam, you shouldn’t sleep on the floor. You should . . .” my voice trailed off since I couldn’t think of exactly where he could sleep. My mind was too fuzzy to come up with an alternative.
“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me, just get some rest.” He reached down and his hand brushed my hair. Waves of warmth radiated through my veins. “I’m glad you’re okay Kim. When Jessica called, I was so worried. It’s a good thing you have such a hard head.” I smiled at his attempt at a joke and the actual distressed look on his face. It was kinda nice to know he cared.
“Goodnight Adam. And thank you.” He turned off the light and I drifted off to sleep dreaming about ladders and bicycles and dead bugs and angels dressed like dads.
I woke up with a jolt, feeling a large presence next to me. Slowly turning my head, I saw the chiseled features of my very own angel of mercy, softened by the early morning sun peeking through the window. Holy peanut butter and jelly. I sat straight up, instantly regretting the rapid movement. What was I doing in bed with Adam? And why was my head throbbing so much? It started to come back. A ladder. An ambulance. A concussion. But why was Adam in my bed? Or actually, on my bed.
Next to me, Adam stirred and his eyes slowly opened. “Morning. Kim. Oh no. Kim.” He rolled off the bed, easily since he had only been lying on top of the comforter, and stood over me, face flushed and absentmindedly running his fingers through his tousled hair. “Kim, I’m so sorry. I came to check on you and I must have fallen asleep. Sleeping on the floor all night wasn’t very comfortable, well I thought I would just rest a bit on the bed before I went back to Noah’s room. I didn’t intend to fall asleep. I’m so sorry. Nothing happened I promise. I would never take advantage of you in this situation.” He was rambling which I might normally find adorable but with my throbbing head I just wanted him to stop so I lifted my hand in the universal STOP sign.
My voice came out very quietly. “It’s okay. Really. Just, could you get me some aspirin?” He nodded and rushed to the bathroom and I heard him rustling through the cabinets. I didn’t even care about the messy room or what he might find in the cabinets (except maybe the flavored condoms that Heather gave me as a joke when my divorce was finalized). I let out a silent prayer of thanksgiving to the gods of peanut butter and jelly. I was alive and for the first time in over a year I hadn’t slept alone.
Sweet Cheat
Daily Prompt – Cheat
The children’s voices called out in the hot summer air. “Marco”, then a chorus of “Polo” from scattered places across the pool. The water provided little relief from the steamy heat of the south Texas heat wave, but the kids seemed oblivious as they continued game after game in the water to pass the day.
“Marco”, the tow-headed boy called yet again. It had been his turn for hours it seemed and he was getting frustrated. He heard the cacophony of voices again, as if taunting him. “Polo”. Eyes closed he moved in one direction then another. He decided he’d had enough. “Marco”. He waited patiently. “Polo”. The sound came from directly in front of him. He opened one eye, just slightly and saw Madison looking right at him.
In a hushed voice she whispered, “No fair. You cheat.” She kissed him squarely on the lips and swam away, leaving him with a lopsided grin and a renewed spirit. “Marco”!
Loving You
Daily Prompt – Mistake
I sit idly flipping through old photographs of you and me together. I’m flooded with the memories, good and bad. I remember when we took the trip up the coast and I insisted we keep the top down even though it was February. My teeth chattered and I shivered against the damp, frigid air, but I refused to admit I was cold. Then at the Inn you quietly lit a fire and pulled me close against you until my insides had thawed and you never said a word.
I remember the time you scattered wild flower seeds instead of grass seed in the backyard without telling me. That summer our yard came alive with color and we would sit on the back porch on the swing, toes skimming the wood floor, as we swayed in time to the song of the crickets and cicadas, drinking in the sweet smell of the blooms.
And I remember when the fights started. Small in the beginning, over inconsequential things. Then more intense, where had I been all day (with Andrea on a shopping spree), why had you not answered your cell phone (your lunch with a client ran very late). Seeds of doubt were planted then.
I remember when you fell out of love with me. “It wasn’t your fault,” you told me. “We’ve been drifting apart for months.” I had to agree. But I didn’t have to like it. “Is there someone else?” I didn’t want to ask but I had to know. Your silence was all I needed.
I remember the first time we met. You said “Molly, I have a feeling you’re going to change my life.” I’d like to think I did.
Loving you was the best mistake I ever made.
Narcisissm
Daily Prompt – Dramatic
“Don’t be so goddamned dramatic.” He spat the words out as if they were poison.
His words were poison to me. I had caught him again. This time before he had a chance to do anything, but he was still caught. It was an email with directions to a hotel room where she should meet him. While I was away on a business trip. Again. At least he was predictable.
When I confronted him with the evidence of course he deflected the conversation to me and my so-called insecurities. “Don’t be so goddamned dramatic.” He said that the first time I accused him and so I, in my shame, retracted my accusation. Then later learned it was true. He back-pedaled and told me it was my fault for smothering him, and I believed him. Each time, each story, each shameful reproach I believed.
This time I caught him before he cheated. Still, he was ready with the deflection. He was prepared to shame me into submission. “Don’t be so goddamned dramatic. It was nothing. Just a meeting. You’re so fucking paranoid.”
I took a deep breath and looked at his face. Suddenly he didn’t seem so handsome, he lacked the charm of our first meeting. The shiny new version had been replaced by this dull, tedious, tiresome person I no longer recognized.
I stood to face him. “No drama.” I kissed him on the cheek and walked out the door, smiling.
Opening Line
It was the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. The temptation had been there for months, festering like an undressed wound. She tried to ignore the flirtatious smiles, the lingering stares, his fingers grazing her skin as he reached past her on the park bench to tie the shoelaces of the toddler in front of them. Her husband traveled during the week, his wife was trying to make partner, leaving them long afternoons tending to three children, his son and her two daughters.
They met in the park. She, a stay-at-home mother, found relief at the park. Fresh air and time when she could pretend to be alone. He, a writer who worked from home, found inspiration at the park. His senses were on overload picking up every nuance and storing it away in his mind.
They didn’t mean for it to happen. A look turned into a smile. A smile turned into a “hello”. Soon small talk turned into meaningful conversation. They took solace in one another. It started out innocently enough. He complained that his wife didn’t listen to what he had to say. She complained that her husband didn’t provide emotional support. Soon complaints turned into accusations. His wife didn’t care, her husband didn’t love her.
Each step brought them closer and closer to this day. The first time. It was at least a fancy hotel room. He spared no expense. She left her daughters with a neighbor, feigning an unexpected appointment. He hired a babysitter leaving no explanation.
They sat awkwardly on the bed wondering if they would be able to go through with it. It was their first time. It was good. It was very good. It wouldn’t be the last.
Susan Jarreau - Of Dreams and Disasters 