Mixed Metaphor.net

The Letter (Chapter Twenty-Seven)

Jenn — Sun, 22 Mar 2009 20:48:34 +0000

As always, Dennis knew exactly what she needed and provided it. As she stood on the deck of the little cottage at the top of the walkway leading to the shore, she marveled at how well he understood her. Leave it to Dennis to arrange for them to enjoy an end-of-summer vacation on the coast. The cottage was charming — just right for the three of them. It was located a scant mile or so outside a quaint village that tourists had yet to discover. Dennis learned about it from a colleague who rented the same cottage a couple of summers earlier. The little town was per se Americana, complete with a Labor Day fireworks display heralding the end of the summer season.

“It’s absolutely perfect,” she sighed, as Dennis walked up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist.

“We already met the next-door neighbors when we were unloading the suitcases.” He nuzzled her neck and whispered “the kids are all playing over there” seductively, as he took her hand and led her down the hall. “Let’s see what the master bedroom is like. I hope it has a firm mattress.”

“So are you ever going to tell me what happened at the reunion? . . . Why you came home early?” They enjoyed a delicious lunch and were lying on a blanket on the beach, relaxing as their son and the four children from the cottage next door ran up and down near the water’s edge, chasing several beach balls and the other family’s dog. Their shrieks of sunny afternoon joy assured her that, even when she was not looking directly at them, they were safe.

“Nothing happened. Nothing at all,” she shrugged. “I told you. The reunion was a dud. After I spent some time with the people I cared about seeing, I had no desire to hang out just to get a glimpse at people who were never really my friends to begin with. I missed you guys, so I came home. No big deal.”

“So you’ve said at least a dozen times in the last month-and-a-half.” The kids were moments away from breaking ground on a sand castle. Dennis watched in fascination as they negotiated the final details of the design.

“How is everyone doin’?” a voice boomed behind them before Dennis could press the issue. “Man, what a perfect day this turned out to be!”

“It sure did,” Dennis responded, jumping to his feet and extending his hand to the inhabitant of the cottage next to theirs. “Sweetheart, you haven’t met the Knutsons yet. This is Jeff and his wife, Marge.”

She stood beside Dennis, extending her hand, as well. “Oh, it’s lovely to meet you. Your children have been keeping our boy busy. They’re having a great time over there working on their sand castle.”

“I see that. Thanks for keeping an eye on them for a little while,” Marge smiled warmly. “Do you mind if we join you? We brought more blankets, some sunscreen. A couple bottles of our favorite wine, too.”

“By all means!” Dennis and Jeff spread out the blankets and they all made themselves comfortable, as she and Marge uncorked the first bottle of wine. “A toast to the end of summer and some new friends!” Jeff declared as they all raised their glasses and settled in for the afternoon.

Just then, her son stood up from the sand and turned around to check on his parents’ whereabouts. When he saw that the Knutsons had joined them, he said something to their children, all of whom stood and began jumping about and waving wildly, pointing to their work-in-progress.

As she called to her son, assuring him that they would all inspect the castle as soon as he and his fellow architects deemed it ready, she felt as contended and at peace as she ever had in her life. She glanced over at Dennis who was speculating enthusiastically with Jeff about the upcoming football season. He caught her staring wistfully at him and smiled lovingly as Jeff opined about his favorite players’ draft by a new team.

“Jeff could talk sports all day every day if somebody would listen to him,” Marge said shaking her head in amusement. “And our oldest is turning out to be just like him, so at least they have each other! How about your boy? Is he into sports?”

“Somewhat,” she replied. “He isn’t quite as athletic as his father, but he’s really been enjoying soccer and basketball.”

Before they knew it, the sand castle had been completed and declared a masterpiece by all four adults just in time for the afternoon tide to begin nipping away at the grounds and moat surrounding it.

“Show me the pictures,” Dennis said, as he poured two more glasses of wine and sat next to her on the couch in the living room of the cottage. “You know my theory. If a camera can handle fireworks, it can take great photos of any subject.”

She connected the camera to her laptop computer and as they surveyed the images, Dennis signified his approval with enthusiastic “ooohs” and “aaaahs.” She giggled at his silly commentary, in part because the several glasses of wine she had enjoyed throughout the afternoon and evening were making her light-headed.

“That’s my favorite,” he declared as they considered the splash of white and red captured bursting over the water. “I love the way you shot this through the trees. Will you frame a copy of that for me? It would look great in my office. My new office,” he added slyly to see if she was paying attention.

“What new office? You didn’t tell me you were getting a new office.”

“I’m telling you now,” he grinned. “The new office comes with my new title. I got the promotion.”

She remained focused on the laptop screen, refusing to look at him.

After a few moments of awkward silence, he pushed. “Aren’t you going to congratulate me?”

“I thought we agreed.”

“We did,” he said somewhat gleefully. “That’s why, when George first offered me the job, I turned it down. But he was very persistent — which allowed me to negotiate.”

She continued looking straight ahead.

“Don’t you want to know the details? You’re going to like them.”

“No. Because I already told you I don’t want you away from home on business trips any more than you already are. And if you’re going to be the Regional Manager, I know you’re going to have to be gone more. You told me that when we first talked about this. So we agreed that you weren’t going to seek the job.” She added sarcastically, “Now you’re decorating your new office.”

“I told George that I was only interested in the job if he guaranteed me that I wouldn’t have to travel any more that I have been. And he agreed.” Dennis was clearly a bit tipsy — and proud of himself. “He is going to allow me to conduct quarterly meetings by teleconference. It will save the company a lot of money, so he loved the idea. In fact, we’re going to be implementing teleconferencing pretty much across the board. So I have secured the best of both worlds — the promotion with no additional travel — for us! How ’bout that?” With one arm around her shoulders, he reached over and gently placed his hand on her cheek, tenderly urging her to face him. “You know I would never break a promise to you.”

“Swear to me you won’t be traveling more.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” he teased, making an “x” over his chest with his right hand.

“Dennis! You know I hate that expression.” With both hands on his chest, she feigned an attempt to push him away, but he held her in his arms.

“Yup, I do. That’s why I say it. Just to annoy you. Lovingly.”

“When do you start?” She couldn’t help smiling at his playfulness. In all the years they had been together, she had never managed to stay angry at him for more than a few minutes and tonight was no exception.

“October 1. The salary increase is significant. We will be able to put more money into his college fund,” Dennis said with sudden seriousness. “And our retirement accounts. I really couldn’t bypass this opportunity. I don’t know when such a solid offer will come my way again. This is for all of us. It will work out just fine. You’ll see. Trust me?”

She fell into his arms, as she always did. Safe, secure, loved. Those were the three emotions she had felt with Dennis from the moment she met him. He stroked her hair as they leaned back on the couch, their embrace familiar, comforting. “Do you really have to ask?”

“No. Just like I haven’t really pressed to know what happened at the reunion. Because if something had happened, you would have told me by now.”

Sitting up, she looked into his eyes, finally read to talk about that night. “He was there. I tried to sneak out of the ballroom without talking to him, but just as I was about to walk out the door, there he was. He said he wanted to ‘catch up,’ so I asked him to get us a couple of drinks while I used the ladies’ room. Then I got in the elevator, went up to my room, packed, and caught a cab to the airport. That was it.”

“So you left him in the ball room with a drink in each hand?” Dennis asked incredulously.

“I guess. I never went back into the ballroom so I didn’t see what he did after that. I didn’t want to speak to him. All I wanted to do was come home — to you and our son. That’s all that happened.” She added, “I swear to you,” as she studied his expression.

Dennis burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Dennis’ shocking reaction caught her completely off-guard.

“That poor son-of-a-bitch.” Dennis continued laughing until tears rolled down his cheeks. “I almost feel sorry for him. Almost. Talk about being stood up. I’m picturing the look on his face as he stood there with a drink in each hand, asking people where you went. Oh, honey, that’s priceless. Brava!”

For the first time since returning home, she envisioned him standing in the ballroom, completely bewildered, and surveying the hallway of the hotel in search of her. She had been so wrapped up in her own desire to avoid interacting with him that she had never stopped to consider his reaction, his befuddled expression when she failed to return. Because logically, he would have been confident that she was as anxious to see him and, as he put it, “catch up” as he was to converse with her. After all, she had never, ever said “no” to or denied him anything — not even herself. Why would he expect her to do anything other than breathlessly return to the ballroom to hang on his every word?

“Wow, I hadn’t thought about it like that. I guess I totally dissed him, didn’t I?”

“You sure did! Oh, that made my whole night. I wish you had told me sooner.” Dennis stood up, dried his eyes, and held out his hands to her. “He’s probably still trying to figure out what happened. I love you and I’m very proud of you.” He kissed her passionately before whispering, “Let’s call it a night.”

To be continued . . .

Inspired by A Thousand Words Prompts Twelve and Three.

Valentine’s Day Carnival of Family Life

Jenn — Mon, 09 Feb 2009 08:01:09 +0000

Welcome to the Valentine’s Day Edition of the Carnival of Family Life! Love is definitely in the air and there are many wonderful articles included in this special edition. So get comfortable, cuddle up with someone you love, and spend some time enjoying them. (Be sure to leave a comment letting the participant know that you enjoyed his/her contribution to the Carnival.)

Cooking & Recipes

Abel Cheng presents Food for Toddlers: What Every Parent Needs To Know posted at Parent Wonder.

Rani presents Mirowave Peanut Brittle posted at Christ’s Bridge. Need to give a gift? This peanut brittle might be just the right thing.

Family Crafts & Activities

The Smarter Wallet presents Organize Your Home With These Space Saving Ideas posted at The Smarter Wallet.

knittsings presents Top 100 Knitting Blogs With Public Traffic Stats posted at knittsings, based on publicly available stats.

Erika Collin presents 25 Safe, Fun & Educational Virtual Worlds for Toddlers, Kids, and Tweens posted at eLearning Gurus.

Josanne Anthony presents Every Child Should Read These Books!!! posted at Delightful Domestications.

Education

Fiona Lohrenz presents Encouraging Diversity At Day Care posted at Child Care Only.

Shen-Li Lee presents 5 Ways to Raise a Smart Kid posted at Babylicious.

Alvaro Fernandez presents Learning about Learning: an Interview with Joshua Waitzkin posted at SharpBrains.

Donald Latumahina presents A Simple Tip for Finding Good Ideas posted at Life Optimizer.

Family Finance

One Family presents Holiday Shopping – A peek at our Spending in the 2008 season posted at One Family’s Blog.

Lauren Rose presents Never Use Copy Paste for Your Credit Card Number and Internet Explorer posted at No Debt Anymore. “Under certain circumstances, your clipboard contents from a copy and paste command can be stolen from the Internet,” Lauren warns. “That includes your credit card number.”

Tom Tessin presents Side Job Ideas posted at FSC Blog. Looking to make a little bit of money on the side?

Raymond presents Second Stimulus Check For Obama 2009 Economic Stimulus Package? posted at Money Blue Book.

Silicon Valley Blogger presents High Yield Savings Account Interest Rates: Changes Ahead? posted at The Digerati Life. “How are you handling your family’s finances now that interest rates are going down? Silicon Valley Blogger offers some suggestions regarding your family’s emergency funds and short term reserves.

Mr. Banker presents High Interest Savings Accounts posted at Best Interest Rate Banks.

Finance Tips 101 presents The Pros And Cons Of Personal Loans posted at Finance Tips 101.

jim presents Preparing Financially for a Baby posted at Blueprint for Financial Prosperity.

Family Health and Wellness

Carole Fogarty presents 10 Tips To Grab On The Run For Staying Hydrated posted at Rejuvenation Lounge. “One of the most important roles of water is to keep your brain hydrated,”Carole writes. “Research has also shown that children learn and understand new information far more easily when their brains are hydrated.”

Aparna presents Puff out puffy eyes posted at Beauty and Personality Grooming. A lot of people experience puffy eyes during different phases of their lives, cause by a variety of factors such as strenuous hours of study, water retention, salt, improper sleep, liquor, medications or even inadequate ventilation.

Parenting Tips & Advice

Concerning Kids presents Tips And Idea To Help Child Proof Your Home posted at Concerning Kids.

Paul Kipnes presents Sibling Rivalry: Can’t Kill ‘em so Try to Love ‘em posted at Or Am I?, a discussion about moving children beyond sibling rivalry.

Riley presents Getting Back on the Bike posted at All Rileyed Up.

Kakie presents Discussing tolerance & differences in biracial families posted at Bur Bur & Friends: Community Park, a story based upon an experience Kakie had with her son.

Natalie Fox presents How to get your kids to bed early posted at All Sleep Info, offering seven tips for getting your kids in bed on time.

Emma presents My miserable failure at brushing my toddler’s teeth posted at Baby-Log.

Lisa Mitchell presents Britax Marathon Review posted at Let’s Talk Babies.

Kevin presents Weekly Parenting Tips – Building Self Confidence posted at More4kids.

Pets

Matt M presents Pricey Pet Food Not Necessarily Better posted at The Pet Haven, providing tips on choosing the best food for your pet.

Relationships & Self-Improvement

JHS presents Tuesday’s Tribute: Clint Ritchie posted at Colloquium in memory of her friend, the “Clintessential” actor who brought “Clint Buchanan” to life on “One Life to Live” for more than twenty years.

Broderick Allen presents No Need to Defend Your Point of View posted at Personal Growth and Enjoying Life’s Journey.

Susan Gaissert presents Shocking Your Mother posted at The Expanding Life.

mavlar presents Picture of Nolan posted at Knowing Nolan.

Travel

Gary R. presents Traditional vs. Rustic Camp Sites posted at Camping Tips, explaining that an increasing number of campgrounds are offering visitors the choice of both traditional and rustic campsites.

Next week, the Carnival will be On the Horizon. Click here to submit the link to and relevant information about your post. Should you have questions, be sure to review the Carnival guidelines before submitting your post.

Would you like the Carnival to pay a visit to your site? Check out the hosting schedule, select a date, and then drop a line advising what week you would like to host.

The Consequences

Jenn — Sun, 08 Feb 2009 08:00:34 +0000

As she approached the small chapel, she heard voices speaking in a hushed tone. Checking the name in the placard on the wall in the hallway just outside the doorway, she confirmed that she was, in fact, in the right room. Quietly, she noted that a small group of five people, none of whom she recognized, were standing near the front of the chapel, talking quietly, so she turned and went back to the reception area to wait.

“May I help you?” a kind young woman in a conservatively tailored black suit asked.

“No, thank you,” she replied. “I’m just waiting for the other folks to leave so that I can pay my respects privately.”

“All right then,” the young woman said with a slight, knowing smile, nodding toward a small room just inside the lobby. “I’ll be in the office. Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will. Thank you,” she responded.

A few minutes later, when she heard the other folks coming down the hallway, she rose from the chair in which she was seated and strode toward a rack of pamphlets and other reading material mounted on the opposite wall, her back to them. She waited as the young employee emerged from the office and saw them out, only turning around after she heard the front door shut. “You can go on in now.”

As she entered the chapel, she felt slightly light-headed, so she sat in the back row near the door for a few moments while she regained her composure and strength. Finally, she rose and began slowly walking up the aisle toward the front of the room. She stopped several times, hesitating as so many emotions threatened to derail her journey. Eventually, however, she found herself standing before him.

She gasped involuntarily when she finally looked down at his face. Had his name not been posted just outside the doorway, she would have sworn she was in the wrong room. The old-appearing man in the casket bore no resemblance to the handsome young man she had loved for so many years. Putting her hand to her mouth, she fought to regain her composure, mindful that other mourners could arrive at any time to pay their last respects. She began to quietly sob as she studied the profound changes that time — and alcohol — had wrought. His once-thick, chestnut hair was gone, replaced by a thin spate of receded silver strands. Despite the mortician’s best efforts to make him appear youthful and at peace, she noted the deep-set wrinkles, especially around his eyes and mouth.

She reached into her pocket and retrieved the envelope containing the page that bore her final words to him, scented by the expensive perfume he used to buy for her. She quickly lifted the edge of his jacket and slipped it between the fabric of the coat and his shirt so that it would forever lie on his chest just above his now-stilled heart. Then she carefully rearranged the lapel so that no one would notice the envelope’s presence.

Half-staggering backwards, she sat down hard on a chair in the first row directly in front of the mahogany casket and let the tears fall for the first time since she had read of his death two days earlier. Her face in her hands, she did not hear his sister, Annette, enter the chapel and was completely oblivious to her presence until she felt Annette’s arm slip around her as Annette seated herself on the chair next to hers.

“I knew you’d come,” Annette said softly. The two women sat in silence for a few minutes as she strove to regain her composure while Annette absent-mindedly rubbed her shoulder.

Finally, she raised her head, took a deep breath, and said, “I didn’t even know if I could come.”

“I knew that you would come to pay your respects and say good-bye . . . again,” Annette replied gently. “I put you on the list of approved visitors that I gave to the funeral director,” she smiled wryly. “Just in case.”

“Such a waste,” she said plaintively.

“He drank himself to death. Nobody could stop him,” Annette said virtually without emotion. “Nobody. The last couple of years, he just gave up completely. He withdrew. He wouldn’t leave the house. He just wanted to be by himself all the time. We all brought him food, cigarettes. I refused to buy his alcohol, so he paid his employees to bring that to him, I guess. He got it somewhere because every time I went to see him, he had a drink in his hand. He tried to push me away, just like he did everyone else.”

“So many people loved him,” she replied.

“I know,” Annette sighed. “The media started calling just a couple of hours after he died. I don’t know who told them.”

“Probably a hospital employee,” she answered. “That’s how those vultures find out everything that should remain private, like which star is the latest to check into rehab.”

“I’m sure,” Annette said resolutely. “Well . . . they would have found out eventually, anyway. At least they haven’t descended upon this place. It’s obscure enough that they haven’t tracked it down. By the time they do . . . ” her voice trailed off.

“Will he be buried on the property?” she asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s what he wanted,” Annette confirmed. “We’ll have a public memorial service later. I don’t know when. I can’t even think about that now. There are a lot of details that I have to take care of, starting with straightening out his finances. What a mess,” she shook her head sadly. “At the end, he wasn’t taking care of anything — not his businesses, not his finances. Not himself, obviously. I have to try to figure everything out.”

“Did he have a will?” she inquired tentatively.

“Yeah,” Annette said with sorrowful disgust. “He finally had his lawyer draft it. But . . . ”

“He never signed it,” she finished the sentence.

The two women looked at each other knowingly before sitting in silence for a few more minutes, each lost in their own memories. Finally, she stood up, walked to the casket and gazed down at him, the tears flowing again. Annette joined her.

“Why couldn’t he believe it?” she sobbed. “Why couldn’t he believe how loved he was?”

“It was the disease,” Annette said resolutely. “He knew he was loved, but for whatever reason, he couldn’t feel it. I’ve always believed that’s why he began drinking in the first place. And then, as the years went on and . . . ” she let her voice trail off, hesitant to finish the sentence.

“Go ahead and say it,” she said. “After I left him.”

“Nobody blames you,” Annette responded sternly. “Nobody. And you can’t blame yourself, either. He is right where he was going to end up, no matter what. If you had stayed with him, he would still be right here, right now. Nobody could save him. And he refused to save himself. It was his tragic flaw. Of Shakespearean proportion.”

“When I heard that he retired, I really thought that things would get better,” she explained. “I spoke to Josh and he said that he was going to take some time off — ‘get some rest’ were the words he used. I thought that meant that he was either going to rehab or he would get interested in things again, spend more time outside . . . get healthier.”

“We all did, but just the opposite happened,” Annette sighed. “Instead of getting busy with all of the projects he claimed to have planned, he became more and more of a hermit, isolated. And the drinking escalated. You can’t drink more than a fifth of vodka every day for that many years without there being consequences.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, my God,” she said, the tears beginning to fall again. “I had no idea it was that bad . . . ”

“At least,” Annette said. “We’ve started going through the house and grounds, but I don’t think we’ve found all of the empty bottles yet. They’re everywhere. I think it actually might have been closer to two fifths. We’ll never really know, of course.”

Just then they heard the young woman entered the chapel and they turned back toward the door.

“No rush, ladies,” she said. “I just wanted to let you know that the appointed visiting hours have concluded so no one else will be allowed to enter. But you take all the time you want.”

“We’ll be leaving in just a few moments,” Annette said.

“No problem,” the employee replied. “As I said, take your time.” She turned and walked back toward the office.

“I need to get going, anyway,” she said to Annette as they turned back toward the open coffin. “I have a flight to catch.”

The two women collected their belongings and walked down the hallway arm in arm. After being shown out, they walked quietly toward the parking lot. When they reached her car, she stopped, looked Annette squarely in the eyes and said, “I need to tell you something.”

“All right.”

“I loved him. I’ve always loved him; I never stopped,” she explained.

“Sweetie, I know that,” Annette assured her. “We all know that. Nobody ever doubted that for a moment.”

“And I didn’t leave him,” she continued, needing to purge the secret she had maintained for so long. “I would never have left him. But when I tried to talk to him about his drinking, he got so enraged. He was completely unreasonable, so I usually just backed off. But I decided that no matter what the consequences, I had to help him. I was determined to convince him that if he would just go into rehab, I would stand by him — we all would — and our lives would be so much better.”

“That night, I decided that we were going to talk about it, but . . . ” she continued. “I didn’t know he was capable of that much anger. He stomped out of the house and didn’t come back for hours. When he did, he was sober, but he wouldn’t even talk to me or look at me. The next day when I left for a few hours to run some errands, he put all of my belongings on the front lawn and changed the locks. He refused to let me back in, and wouldn’t take my calls. I had no choice. Fortunately, I had some money so I was able to get on my feet fairly quickly. But that was the last time we ever spoke or saw each other. I just told everyone that we split up, but the truth is that he threw me out.”

Annette continued listening intently.

“The only person who knows the truth is Josh. I told him, but swore him to secrecy. I didn’t want you or anyone else to get angry and try to intercede on my behalf because I was afraid that he would cut you out of his life, too. His ability to hold a grudge was unbelievable. I figured that even if he turned his back on me, at least he had you. And Josh, of course. Josh assured me that he never let on that he knew the truth.”

Tears were streaming down her face, unabated, now. “I never would have left him, Annette. You have to believe that.”

Without saying a word, Annette put her arms around her, hugged her close, and allowed her to cry for a few moments before whispering in her ear, “I knew.”

Pulling away, she stared into Annette’s eyes, her mouth hanging open. “What? You knew?”

“He told me,” Annette said softly. “I never believed for a moment that you had left him.”

Now it was Annette’s turn to rid herself of the secret she had carried with her for too long. “I waited until just the right moment. You know how he was . . . you had to wait for the opportunity, when he was in precisely right right frame of mind, and then seize the moment because it might never come again. I went over to the house a few weeks later and, as it turned out, your name came up. I sensed that would be my only chance to talk about it, so I confronted him then and there. He confessed what he had done.”

She continued staring at Annette in utter disbelief. “Then . . . ”

“Then why didn’t I call and tell you? Why didn’t I convince him to call you?” She nodded as Annette continued speaking. “I tried. He refused. And he absolutely forbid me to call you and let him know that I knew. He swore me to secrecy. He made it very clear that the two of you would not be getting back together under any circumstances. He huffed and puffed like he always did. And, as you say, I was afraid that if I crossed him, he would cut me out of his life completely, too. Then who would he have? Josh meant well, but he was in no position to take care of him. And his employees were just a bunch of enablers.”

“Besides,” she added, “I knew what was really going on.”

She searched Annette’s face.

“Don’t you see? He loved you, too. He loved you so much that he wanted to save you. He knew he couldn’t save himself. No one will ever convince me that he didn’t have a death wish. He couldn’t overcome it, so he was determined not to take you down with him.”

Tears continued rolling down her cheeks and her stomach churned as the import of Annette’s revelations overtook her.

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” she mumbled nearly inaudibly.

Annette gently grabbed her upper arms and looked her squarely in the eyes. “He didn’t want you to watch him kill himself slowly. He loved you too much,” Annette said matter-of-factly. “Sweetie, he loved you far more than he loved himself. He did the one thing for you that he was incapable of doing for himself.” They remained motionless for a few more moments, each processing Annette’s words in their own fashion. Finally, Annette released her grip and broke the silence. “How is Jerry? And the kids?”

“Fine. They’re all great,” she said. “Jerry thinks I had to go on a brief business trip out of town which is why I need to get back home. The kids have a lot of school activities . . . Kevin is playing basketball and loving it. Hoping for a scholarship.”

“I’m so glad,” Annette replied genuinely. “All right then, I’d better let you get going so that you don’t miss your flight. We’ll stay in touch?”

“Of course,” she said. “We’ll speak soon.” They hugged again before she got into the rental car and began driving in the direction of the airport, ready to return to the happy life she had made without the man who would always be the one true love of her life.

Inspired by the Cafe Writing February Project: Love Letters:

What can I tell you by letter? Alas! nothing that I would tell you. The messages of the gods to each other travel not by pen and ink and indeed your bodily presence here would not make you more real: for I feel your fingers in my hair, and your cheek brushing mine. The air is full of the music of your voice, my soul and body seem no longer mine, but mingled in some exquisite ecstasy with yours. I feel incomplete without you.

Oscar Wilde (in a letter to Constance Wilde)

The New Year’s Eve Party

Jenn — Sun, 01 Feb 2009 10:02:59 +0000

She felt the throbbing before she opened her eyes. She was disoriented and uncomfortable, but the sound of Arnie softly breathing next to her assured her that she was at home. She opened her eyes slowly as she sat up. He was lying on his side, gazing at her, a couple of noisemakers and some confetti streamers strewn about. The bottle of champagne she had bought a few days earlier — nearly empty now — stood upright in silent testament to the previous night.

She pulled her knees up and propped her elbows on them in order to massage her temples as she tried to remember why she had slept on the living room floor rather than in their bed. When she extended her left arm to pick up the noisemaker nearest Arnie, she noticed the red stains. Pulling her arm back and raising her right hand to inspect it as well, she saw the dried blood caked on both hands and under her fingernails. Panic overtook her.

“What the . . .?” she whispered frantically as Arnie stood up, came over to her, and nuzzled her elbow with his nose.

As her restored memories overtook her, she collapsed back onto the floor in slow motion, Arnie instinctively lying down with her as she absently rubbed his ears and stroked his head.

“Oh, Arnie,” she sobbed as she realized that she had actually lived the sequence of events that seemed like just a terrible nightmare.

They had dressed hurriedly for the party because they had both left work early and come home to enjoy a couple of hours alone before going out for the evening. They dozed off, satisfiedly wrapped each other’s arms, and awoke to realize that they had less than an hour to shower, dress, and travel uptown to their friends’ home for the New Year’s Eve dinner and celebration.

“Oh, my gosh! Sam! Wake up! We’re going to be late,” she warned after she contentedly rolled over and glimpsed the clock on the nightstand. “It’s six o’clock!”

“How ’bout if we just stay here tonight?” Sam mumbled, reaching to pull her back to him as he burrowed deeper under the covers.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” she chided, pulling the covers back. “I’m getting in the shower. You promised me that we would go to the party tonight and I’m holding you to it. I’m wearing my new dress and you’re wearing your tux. So get moving!” she playfully slapped him on the rear end as she got out of bed and strode toward the bathroom.

“Hey!” he yelped. He groaned dramatically as he grabbed the covers and pulled them up over his head. But when he heard the faucet creak as the water began surging out of the shower pipes, he couldn’t resist the temptation to join her.

Thirty minutes later, they were dashing around the apartment as they finished getting ready for the evening. She was still putting her earrings and bracelet on as they hurried down the hall to the elevator. His tie hung around the collar of his half-buttoned shirt, and he finished hooking and straightening his belt as they exited the elevator car on the first floor.

“Would you like me to get you a cab?” the doorman asked as they stepped out of the building into the cold New York City air.

“That would be great!” he responded, putting his jacket on. He quickly finished buttoning his shirt as she began assisting him with his tie.

“You look beautiful in that dress,” he whispered as he lightly kissed the end of her nose. “Are you sure you don’t want to just go back upstairs and have a private celebration?”

“Thank you,” she beamed. The taxi pulled up just as she was adjusting the bow to assure that it was straight. “And you are unbelievably dashing in this tux. But no. I intend to wear this dress for at least a few hours.”

They hurriedly hopped into the back seat. Sam announced their destination to the driver and urged him to drive as quickly as possible because they were running late.

“I’ll do my best, sir,” the driver replied, “but there’s a lot of traffic this evening, you know.”

Sam sighed as he grinned slyly and leaned toward her. “It was worth a late arrival, don’t you think?”

“Behave yourself,” she whispered, feigning displeasure.

“I love you,” he mouthed silently as he draped his hand over her legs and kissed her gently, his lips lingering on hers.

“I know and I’m very lucky,” she said quietly as she reached up and tenderly stroked his cheek with her right hand. As she did, she felt the cab slowing. Glancing forward through the windshield, she noted that they had entered an intersection and the cab driver was waiting for oncoming traffic to pass before making a left turn.

Sam leaned back on the seat, his right hand remaining over her legs as she turned her attention to her handbag lying on the seat to her right. She reached for it, intending to pull on her gloves when she felt the impact and Sam seemed to be ripped from her side in slow motion.

The next thing she knew, she was leaning over him on the pavement. She removed her coat and placed it under his head, holding his face in her hands and urging him to hang on as the wail of the sirens grew louder and louder. She never stopped talking to him, gently stroking his face and telling him how much she loved him, assuring him that everything would be fine as the paramedics carefully placed him on the gurney and lifted it into the ambulance, helping her up the steps so that she could remain by his side. She did not stop whispering in his ear until they reached the hospital and the paramedics forced her to remain in the waiting room while several medical personnel took control of the gurney and whisked Sam away from her.

“No, no,” she repeated over and over when hospital staffers asked her repeatedly if she was sure there wasn’t someone they should call to come and stay with her in the waiting room. “No. No one. All of our family live out of state. I’ll call them later after I see Sam,” she insisted. “I don’t want to alarm them unnecessarily.”

She still would not provide them with the name and telephone number of someone they should call to accompany her home after they let her sit with Sam’s body. The social worker who had informed her that Sam would not be going home with her and accompanied her into the room where the medical personnel had tried desperately – but unsuccessfully – to revive him had practically demanded that she either provide a name or remain at the hospital herself to rest and recover from the shock. Still she refused. All she wanted to do was go home. There she would figure out what needed to be done and who needed to be called, she explained.

Eventually, the social worker relented and summoned a police officer and chaplain to drive her back to their building and escort her into their apartment. After greeting Arnie and searching the premises to assure that nothing was amiss, they finally took their leave after providing her with several telephone numbers to call if she felt that she needed assistance.

It was 2:00 a.m. A new year had begun but not in the way she and Sam had planned.

Her parents, Sam’s parents, her sister . . . they would all be asleep by now, she told herself, unable to face the task of dialing their numbers and telling them about the accident.

So she went to the refrigerator and retrieved the champagne that she had purchased a few days earlier — just in case Sam convinced her to stay at home instead of going to the party. Just for fun, she had also bought a couple of silly hats, noisemakers, and some confetti, knowing that Sam would try to beg off going out and want to celebrate quietly at home, alone with her and Arnie.

She popped open the champagne, blew bitterly into one of the noisemakers, and threw some streamers around the room as she sat down on the floor next to Arnie and began drinking the champagne right out of the bottle. Arnie stared at her questioningly in his perpetually forlorn manner as if to ask, “Where is he?”

“He’s not coming home, Arnie,” she cried. “He’s not coming back to us.” She repeated the words, “He’s gone, Arnie,” over and over, drinking the champagne to numb her pain between the sobs that wracked her entire body as she wished she had let him convince her to crawl back into bed with him instead of insisting that they go to the party.

Happy New Year Carnival of Family Life

Jenn — Mon, 29 Dec 2008 07:01:19 +0000

In many different respects, 2008 was a challenging year for most. But on New Year’s Eve, we pause to remember the good things that happened during the past year. On this night, we forget our problems and cares, looking hopefully to the future. Precisely at midnight, we’ll be singing and toasting the arrival of 2009!

Hope you brought your family and good friends along, because the party is just getting underway. The champagne has been on ice all day and the waiters are popping the first bottles now. The hors d’ oeuvres will be served momentarily. Grab a few noisemakers and select a silly hat! The orchestra is tuning up and will begin playing in just a few minutes.

You look wonderful in your most festive attire! Grab your dance partner because the New Year’s festivities are getting underway!

Family Cooking & Recipes

Myscha Theriault presents Cooking with Canned Pumpkin: Fresh Ideas for a Frugal Super Food at Wise Bread.

Emma presents How to get away with cooking once a week for your baby at Baby-Log.

Family Crafts and Activities

HowToMe presents How To Make an “Angelic” Kitchen Towel Set at HowToMe.

Catherine Eagleson presents Games for the Brain – Perfect for Rainy Days! at Crosswords For Fun. “If the weather decides to put a dampener on your family holiday,” Catherine writes, “games for the brain are the perfect solution to keep your kids occupied for hours at a time.”

Family Finance

Polly Poorhouse presents Drama For a Song at Economic Crunch, suggesting that you “comparison shop for kids’ activities, as well as for peanut butter and soap.”

Jim presents Total Cost of Owning A Dog at Blueprint for Financial Prosperity, taking a detailed “look at the cost of making a new furry addition to the family.”

Credit Shout presents TrueEarnings Card from Costco and American Express Review at CreditShout. If you shop at Costco, there is now a credit card with which you can maximize savings.

Raymond presents The Best Online High Interest Savings Accounts at Money Blue Book.

freefrombroke presents You Are Richer Than You Think at Free From Broke, reminding us that “family and friends are our richest resource.”

Renae presents When Circumstances Squeeze Wish Lists at Life Nurturing Education.

Terri Mauro presents Teaching Money Management With a Credit-Card-Free iTunes Account at Terri’s Special Children Blog.

Silicon Valley Blogger presents Ebates Review: Online Rewards, Double Cash Back When You Shop! at The Digerati Life, recommending an online shopping site that features savings and cash back rewards.

Family Health and Wellness

Matthew presents Allergy to Milk at Fast Medical Information. He explains that “lactose intolerance” is the term used to describe an allergy to milk which prevents digestion or absorption of lactose, the sugar in milk.

Peter Garant presents Cool Mist Humidifiers: Important Traits at Humidifier Reviews, offering tips about selecting the cool mist humidifier that is safe, clean, and efficient.

Aparna presents Tips for dry winter hair at Beauty and Personality Grooming. Aparna explains that “the sebaceous glands in the scalp produce oil to lubricate hair but are less active in cold weather and slow down production with age.” She offers suggestions for keeping your hair lustrous in the winter months.

Alvin Hopkinson presents Acid Reflux Diet at The Best Way to Be Acid Free, listing foods to avoid in order to prevent acid reflux or heartburn.

Isaac Yassar presents You Are Your Habits at Isaac Yassar .com.

Super Saver presents The Bright Side for my 2008 at My Wealth Builder.

Matthew presents Allergy to Latex at Fast Medical Information.

Family Spirituality/Belief/Worship

Leticia Velasquez presents Merry Christmas from Connecticut at cause of our joy.

luvmy4sons presents Just Think… at Do You Weary Like I Do?. “Just think — He came to us,” she writes.

luvmy4sons presents Mary at Do You Weary Like I Do?, observing, “To be Mary . . . wow!”

Family Travel

Ruth presents Camp For Free or Nearly Free! at Camping Tips. “There are more places than you’d think where you camp for free or nearly free,” Ruth writes.

Marilyn Terrell presents Jenss Family Travels: Harris Hill Farm at Intelligent Travel Blog, detailing “the Jensss family’s stop in New Zealand on their year-long round-the-world adventure.” They had fun on a farm!

The Smarter Wallet presents Plan Your Vacation Well: Travel Tips For The Early Bird Traveler at The Smarter Wallet.

Parenting Tips and Advice

Chief Family Officer presents Review: Graco Nautilus at Chief Family Officer.

Kevin presents Family New Years Resolutions at More4kids.

Brip Blap presents how to soothe a crying baby at brip blap, describing “how our crying babies taught us about learning to back off.”

Well, it’s certainly hard to believe that 2009 is here so soon!

Carnival of Family Life 2009

The Carnival will kick off 2009 at Domestic Cents on Monday, January 5, 2009! Click here to submit your family-related posts.

The guidelines and other information about the Carnival is available here. Would you like to host a future edition? The hosting schedule can be viewed here. Then drop a line advising which week you would like the Carnival to visit your site.

THANK YOU for coming to the party so that we could all ring in 2009 together. Hope you had a great time and enjoy a healthy, happy, prosperous, and gratifying New Year!

Simply the Best: Group Writing Project

Jenn — Mon, 29 Dec 2008 06:22:00 +0000

Confident Writing sponsored an end-of-the-year Group Writing Project to which authors were asked to submit a single post representing their best 2008 work. I selected An Unexpected Independence Day Celebration because I believe it is one of my best-crafted short stories. It is based not upon one particular person, but, rather, several people who are dear to me, including a special couple in whose honor I wrote the piece as a way of demonstrating my affection for them upon the occasion of their wedding. My second choice for 2008 is The Keys to Her Future.

Worlds Apart (Chapter Two)

Jenn — Sat, 29 Nov 2008 19:04:43 +0000

Nearly every morning, he managed to be in the parking lot at the precise moment she arrived for work. And even though she worked on the third floor of the ten-story building, and he was assigned to the fifth, he not only walked into the building with her; the last few mornings, he had gotten off the elevator on the third floor, walked with her down the hall and opened the door to the office for her before ducking into the nearby stairwell and bounding up the final two floors to his cubicle. The last few nights, she had also encountered him in the lobby and they walked to their cars together.

“How ’bout lunch tomorrow?” he asked as they arrived at her vehicle. He reached over, took the keys from her hand, placed them into the lock just under the handle, and popped the door open for her before handing the keys back to her. “I can meet you in the cafeteria at noon, if that’s all right.”

She had been wondering when he was going to make good on his luncheon invitation. Involuntarily, she shivered slightly as his fingers touched hers lightly when he placed her keys back in her hand. “Sure,” she responded without thinking. “That would be fun.”

“Great!” he smiled broadly, causing her to reach out for the top of the car door in order to steady herself. “Have a great time at school and I’ll see you in the morning!” he said as he turned and strode toward his own car.

She got into her vehicle and drove quickly out of the parking lot without glancing over in the direction of his vehicle, eschewing her usual custom of waving at him as she exited the premises.

“You did not,” Cheryl said in a hushed tone barely above a whisper, her eyes wide. The two women stared at each other in silence for a few moments, neither knowing what to say next.

Finally, Cheryl took a drag on her cigarette before throwing it down on the sidewalk, grinding the half-unsmoked cylinder with the toe of her platform shoe. Finding an announcement posted on the classroom door saying that their professor was ill and there would be no class that night, they had decided to take advantage of their night of freedom.

The pub was the university crowd’s favorite by virtue of its location: It was adjacent to a large shopping center accessible from the campus via a footbridge over the local highway. It was originally approved for construction by the city council in order to allow students who did not own vehicles to shop for groceries, clothing, and other necessities. But the club’s owners recognized that the footpath also allowed students to walk back to their dormitories and fraternity houses after an evening of beer-drinking and dancing. Before long, their marketing efforts paid off. The club became known to the student body as simply “the pub” — and evening and late-night traffic on the footbridge increased.

Leaning on the railing with her left arm, Cheryl leaned into her friend as she said sternly, “You need to be careful.” Surprised by Cheryl’s reaction, she refused to meet her friend’s penetrating stare, instead continuing to gaze absent-mindedly at the cars whizzing beneath them.

“You agreed to have lunch with him in the cafeteria? Where everyone will see you? Why don’t you just post a flier on the company bulletin board?”

Finally, she turned to face Cheryl. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about gossip, girlfriend,” Cheryl responded, placing her right hand on her hip to emphasize how exasperated she was by her friend’s naivete. “You’re the one who constantly complains that all those old biddies you work with ever do is gossip about everyone and everything. So you’re going to make yourself into a gigantic target. Why don’t you just hang a bullseye on your back? If you have lunch with him in the cafeteria at noon, you’ll be the talk of the company by one o’clock,” she practically hissed.

She knew Cheryl was right. Without thinking, she had set herself up to be the object of the corporate gossipmongers’ chatter.

Stubbornly idealistic, she refused to concede. “You know what? If somebody wants to spread rumors about me, that’s their problem. We’re just friends. There’s nothing wrong with friends who work for the same company having lunch together in the cafeteria,” she argued.

Cheryl shook her head in disbelief. “Are you crazy?” she pushed. “Look, I know you come from a small town, but things aren’t as different here as you seem to think. Not in this county, anyway. Most of the people here are still very narrow-minded. They haven’t progressed very far in their thinking.” Pausing to consider her friend’s expression, Cheryl understood for the first time just how inexperienced and innocent she really was.

“Look,” she continued gently, “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know,” she replied. “I appreciate your advice. I do.” As they both leaned on the railing and considered the traffic below, she chose her words carefully. “But I’m not going to let a few busybodies dictate to me who I can and can’t be friends with. I picked this school to get away from that kind of thinking.”

She felt Cheryl’s palpable disapproval, but forged on. “It’s not a date and I am going to make that clear by paying for my own food. It’s just lunch. Just two friends sharing a table and some conversation. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Cheryl protested softly, turning to face her.

“i know what I’m doing. I’m not going to let this get out of control,” she assured Cheryl. “Jeez, you’d think we were announcing our engagement or something!”

“Oh, my gawd,” Cheryl exclaimed as she reached into her bag for her cigarettes and lighter.

“Can you imagine?” she laughed cryptically.

“Don’t go there,” Cheryl said as she took the first long drag. “My nerves can’t take it.”

“I can just see the look on my father’s face!” she said, shivering emphatically for dramatic emphasis.

“O.K. That did it. Now I really need a drink!” Cheryl said, linking her arm in her friend’s as they continued across the footbridge toward the pub.
To be continued . . .

Inspired by A Thousand Words: Prompt Number Sixteen.

In the Morning Light (Chapter Three)

Jenn — Thu, 27 Nov 2008 21:24:30 +0000

When she walked into her new apartment for the first time, she burst into tears as a plethora of emotions rushed over her. Alone with Timmy in a city with which she was completely unfamiliar and where the only person with whom she was acquainted was the kind stranger who had met them at the bus depot and escorted them to the housing project, she considered her sparsely furnished new home.

Sitting down in the overstuffed chair next to the living room window, she took a deep breath and quickly dabbed her face with a tissue so that Timmy would not see her cry. A huge black cloud hung over the city, just moments from unleashing more pounding, bitterly cold rain. As she gazed through the dirty, wet windowpane, all she could see in every direction were more apartment buildings as ugly and nondescript as the structure in which she found herself now residing.

Pulling Timmy onto her lap, she held him tightly as they sat quietly for a few moments watching the rain begin again in earnest. She could barely believe that the two of them would be spending Christmas in this drab, rundown building in this dreary city on the opposite side of the country from the only home she had ever known.

The first time Jake hit her, she was shocked, but convinced that it was her fault. She truly believed that had she not insisted on discussing her frustrations and anger with him on that evening when he was tired and had spent several hours at the local bar after work — which was the crux of the problem, of course — the conversation would have proceeded very differently and not culminated in his slapping her across the side of her face. He apologized profusely for striking her, promising that it would never happen again. She knew that he was genuinely ashamed of his behavior. Still, she cried and asked for his forgiveness, insisting that the argument and ensuing violence had both been her fault.

When they met, she was young, inexperienced, and naive. On their wedding day, she moved out of her parents’ house and established a new home with him. Her father was a quiet man, her mother a soft-spoken bookkeeper. The only child of two only children, she grew up in a quintessentially unremarkable American household where she was the sole focus and recipient of her parents’ love, attention, and hope. Because she had no uncles, aunts or cousins, she was extremely close to her parents and grandparents — they were everything to her — as she was to them.

In the blink of an eye, Jake had swept her off her feet, much to her family’s disappointment. Eight years her senior, he was ruggedly handsome, charming, and driven to be a “self-made” man, forging a successful San Francisco construction company from nothing more than a beat-up pickup truck, charisma, and determination. He was well aware that many of his female clients hired him even though his bids were not the lowest they received. He flirted with them and worked the fact that he was unmarried into discussions about how they wanted him to remodel their dining rooms in time for the holidays or build them a backyard gazebo before the first bar-b-que of the summer. Before long, he had built a thriving business on referrals from one bored society housewife to another. From that foundation, he was able to expand, purchasing equipment, hiring employees, and winning increasingly-valuable and high-profile bids.

They met when he was overseeing the renovation of the historic building in which her mother worked. The large accounting firm had acquired the Victorian-era home and sought to convert it into an office while retaining its original architectural design. For his young company, winning the bid over larger, more established firms was a major coup. He knew that the successful completion of this job would catapult his company — and him — into a completely different league of successful construction companies.

She stopped by after her classes at the local university to see her mother. Jake was inspecting his employees’ work on the front facade of the building and, when he turned to see her running up the steps, was instantly mesmerized. She was the most exquisite young woman he had ever seen and, in that instant, knew that the universe had just assigned a finite number to the days he would remain a bachelor. Before that day, he had never given any thought to whether or not he believed in love at first sight. Later, he would tell friends and family that the sight of her on that spring afternoon made him a believer.

Her family did not approve, but refrained from giving voice to their concerns lest they drive her away from them. They were dismayed when she dropped out of college, but outwardly supported her decision and, of course, doted on Timmy. They suspected that something was terribly wrong, but she never told them above Jake’s increasingly-serious drinking or abuse so they maintained their silence.

But eventually, she knew that if she stayed with Jake, he would inevitably start hitting Timmy, too, and she could not let that happen. She was determined to protect him, no matter the personal cost.

She no longer believed Jake’s apologies. She knew that he loved her, but could not control the rage that overtook him when he drank. She had given up hoping against hope that he would either quit drinking on his own or seek help. Instead, he began spending more and more time hanging out in the neighborhood bar after work with his employees — and less and less time with her and Timmy. She dared not mention his behavior for fear of igniting his anger. But over time, it didn’t matter whether she broached the subject or not. They fought anyway. Jake knew how unhappy she was because he was even more miserable — with himself.

One summer night, after a particularly brutal disagreement during which she sustained a black eye, as well as numerous scrapes and bruises on her arms, legs, and upper torso, she accepted the knowledge that she and Timmy had to leave Jake. She was calm and unemotional as she gazed at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, trying to cover the marks with makeup before Timmy awoke and saw them. She was neither distraught nor sorrowful. In fact, she was surprised by the matter-of-fact manner in which she made her decision, only later understanding that she felt, at that moment, as nothing more than a casual observer of her own life because she was already emotionally spent. She made up her mind that the next morning, after dropping Timmy at school, she would go to the local shelter for battered women and seek their assistance.

To be continued . . .

Inspired by A Thousand Words: Prompt Number Seventeen

Worlds Apart (Chapter One)

Jenn — Tue, 18 Nov 2008 07:01:19 +0000

“He’s flirting with you,” Marilyn whispered as she leaned toward her coworker’s side of the long reception counter where they worked side by side each day.

“Stop it. He is not,” she protested through slightly clenched teeth as her gaze again wandered to the intriguing stranger seated on the couch near the door to the interior office suite.

“Oh, yeah, he is,” Marilyn pressed. “He is checking you out.”

She could feel heat radiating from her flushed cheeks and the inside of her mouth had suddenly become dry. If Marilyn only knew, she thought to herself.

Just then the intercom buzzed. “Yes, Mr. Bascom, I’ll send him right in,” she said politely before replacing the receiver. “Mr. Bascom is ready to see you now,” she advised him, standing and coming around from behind the counter in order to escort him down the hall to the office of the company’s Vice President for his job interview.

Neither of them spoke as he followed her down the corridor. When she stopped in front of Mr. Bascom’s closed office door, she tapped lightly with her right hand as she turned the doorknob with her left and then gestured to him to enter. She mouthed the words “good luck” to him as he walked past her before gently closing the door and returning to her work station. There, she began her morning transcription.

An hour or so later, her headphones on, she was typing furiously and did not hear him re-enter the foyer, so she nearly jumped out of her chair when she turned to find him leaning on the counter watching her. He was smiling broadly.

“Oh, my gawd,” she shrieked. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Just a few seconds,” he said grinning mischievously. “I’m sorry that I startled you.”

Scrambling to regain her composure, she asked, “Well, how did the interview go?”

“I think it went well. He said I would be hearing from him in a few days, so keep your fingers crossed,” he replied earnestly.

“All right, I’ll do that,” she responded just as Marilyn returned and took her seat a few feet away. “Good luck and hope to see you again.”

“Me, too.” He winked as he took his time to turn away from the counter and walk to the door, glancing back one more time and nodding his head slightly before exiting.

She continued to stare at the door for a few seconds after he closed it, primarily because she could feel Marilyn’s piercing stare and did not want to turn and face her.

When she could avoid doing so no longer, Marilyn rolled her eyes dramatically as she placed her headphones over her ears and mumbled, “Oh, no, he wasn’t flirting with you. Nah. That wasn’t flirting . . . that was just . . . I don’t know . . . conversation. Yeah. That’s what that was. Just conversation. Right.” She continued shaking her head in amusement as she began typing.

A few weeks later, she was exiting her vehicle in the company parking lot when she heard a voice she did not recognize greet her. “Good morning,” he said as she spun around to find him standing by the rear corner of her car. He grinned sheepishly, realizing that he had again startled her.

“Do you enjoy doing that to poor, unsuspecting women?” she said with mock exasperation.

“I’m sorry. I thought you saw me as I was walking over here. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he responded with genuine kindness. It was at that moment she realized that he had the most beautiful brown eyes she had ever seen — deep-set and warm.

“I take it you got the job?” she inquired.

“I sure did. Today is my first day,” he said proudly.

“Well, congratulations!” She was trembling slightly.

“We’d better get to work then,” he said as they began walking toward the building together. “How long have you worked here?”

“Oh, only about six months. I take night classes at the university,” she explained. “This is my second semester there. I decided that I wanted to be completely independent from my parents and support myself, so I switched to evening classes. I work all day and have classes four nights a week.”

“Wow, that’s a rough schedule, isn’t it?” he asked.

“It’s not bad. It just doesn’t leave much time for outside activities. I pretty much spend all of my weekends studying,” she shrugged.

“No time for a boyfriend then,” he said gingerly as he waited for her reaction.

“No, I guess not,” she laughed lightly. “Not that I have to worry about that.” She again felt the heat rising in her cheeks as she wondered what he would think if he knew that she had never really had a boyfriend. Not that she hadn’t been interested in several young men during her high school and college years. But none of them had ever reciprocated her feelings.

“Oh, I don’t believe that.” He smiled softly as he held the door to the building open for her.

“Well, this is where we go our separate ways,” declared in order to change the subject. “You need to go up to Personnel and check in. They’ll have about a million forms for you to fill out, and will give you your security badge,” she explained as she pulled hers from her bag and showed it to the security guard posted near the bank of elevators.

“Then I guess I’ll see you later. Maybe we can have lunch soon.”

She was dumbfounded. Was he asking her on a date? “Um . . . ah . . . sure. That would be nice,” she stammered as she pressed the button to summon an elevator even though it was already illuminated.

“All right then. You have a good day now.” Her knees felt wobbly when she realized that he was looking right at her, smiling broadly.

“Yeah . . . you, too. Congratulations again,” she said as she stepped into the elevator and the doors closed behind her.

For a few moments, she stood frozen, facing the back wall of the elevator. “What are you doing?” she asked herself aloud. “What are you thinking? Are you crazy? You can’t go out with him.” Just then she felt the elevator stop so she quickly turned to face the door, slightly out of breath and thoroughly rattled by her brief encounter with the good-looking stranger who had indeed been flirting with her, just as Marilyn observed. She sighed regretfully as she reminded herself that she could not, under any circumstances, date or become involved with the intriguing gentleman who was increasingly seeming to be the first man who ever pursued her. She knew that, no matter how strong their attraction to each other, any relationship they might enter into would inevitably and inescapably end very badly.

To be continued . . .

Inspired by the Sunday Scribblings prompt: Stranger

Included in:

Just Write Blog Carnival at Incurable Disease of Writing

Presenting the finest of the writer’s blogs by the bloggers who write them: Top 5 Picks as chosen by the December 26, 2008 WOOF Contest contestants.

Prose:

Fiction:

Jenn – Worlds Apart (Chapter One)
Jennifer M. Scott – Dear God

Opinion / Nonfiction / Nonfiction Rant:

Harneet Singh – Life With an Aim
Amritbir Kaur – The Yardsticks of Life — Success and Failure

About Writing:

Khaye Cardenas – Please Excuse Me, I am Writing Again

Poetry:

Khaye Cardenas – The Woman’s Silent Prayer
Dragon Blogger – Two Sides to Every Tale
Dragon Blogger – Why Does Mommy Cry?
Daisy Bookworm – Breath
Exquisite Corpse – Great is the Morning

Brought to you by PlotDog Press, featuring the serial suspense screenplay, Intervention. Want to participate in the next WOOF? Submit a link to your best writing of the past two weeks using the form at the bottom of this page.

The Sentence

Jenn — Sun, 16 Nov 2008 10:49:38 +0000

It was more like a plaintive howl than a scream. Visceral and primitive, the sound filled the small room and echoed down the hall, but she did not hear it as it emanated from somewhere deep in her soul. It wasn’t until a couple of weeks later that she asked her good friend, as they sat at the dining room table writing “thank you” notes, “Did I scream that night?”

Her friend put down the pen with which she was addressing an envelope, reached over and squeezed her hand as she said gently, “Yes, honey, you did.”

“I keep hearing this horrible sound in my head,” she said. “I didn’t realize what it was until just a few moments ago. Isn’t that odd?”

“Not really,” her friend assured her. “It was a horrible shock. People react all sorts of different ways when they receive such terrible news.”

“I guess,” she said absent-mindedly as she stared at the blank envelope in front of her.

“How about if you let me finish doing this and you go take a nap?” her friend suggested.

“No, no,” she replied. “I’m fine. I need to keep busy. I’m just glad I finally figured out what that sound was because it’s been very perplexing.”

“All right then,” her friend said as she picked the pen up and resumed writing.

“You’re early, Ms. Carlisle,” the deputy said as she placed her handbag on the conveyor belt to be xrayed and walked through the metal detector in the courthouse lobby. “The hearing’s not for another hour,” he said kindly as he retrieved her purse and handed it to her.

“I know, Seth. I wanted to get here before the newspaper people and. . . ” her voice trailed off as the deputy looked at her knowingly.

“Well, Judge Humphreys is still hearing his 8:30 calendar. You can sit in the courtroom if you’d like. There are only a couple of folks in there,” he said.

“Thank you,” she smiled softly as the two of them walked down the hallway. When they reached the second of three sets of double doors, Seth opened the door for her and gestured toward the back left corner of the courtroom, gently closing the door behind her as she took the seat she had occupied every day during the three-week trial. Judge Humphreys was on the bench and there were two lawyers standing behind the tables placed on opposite sides of the aisle, one flanked by a female client and one by a male. They were taking turns arguing about bank accounts and a visitation schedule as the female client kept her head down, her long hair falling over her shoulders as she self-consciously dabbed her tears with a pink handkerchief. The man at the other table was staring at the judge, his hands clasped as they rested atop the table, while the lawyers’ exchange grew increasingly animated.

It was a crisp autumn morning and the air in the drafty courtroom was cool, so she kept her jacket on as she settled into her usual seat. She had listened to every scrap of evidence introduced throughout the trial, committing most of the details to memory. She had studied the young defendant, her son Sean’s best friend, as he listened to the details about the speed at which he was navigating the car down Main Street when he lost control of it, the velocity with which it struck the light pole, how the boys driving the car against which the defendant and her son were racing sped off without stopping after the crash, and the details concerning her son’s fatal injuries. The District Attorney had tried to convince her to leave the courtroom when he showed photos of the vehicle to the jury, including the poster-size color shots of the jaws of life tearing off the roof of the vehicle in order to extricate her boy so that the medical personnel could try to save him.

But she remained in her seat, diverting her eyes from the photos. She considered the defendant’s parents while the jury stared at the photos in disbelief, several of whom were visibly shaken and wiped away tears. She watched the defendant’s mother sob quietly, her face buried in her hands. She watched his father try to comfort his wife, choking back his own tears, and wondered whether they were crying primarily for the loss of Sean’s life or the loss of their own son’s once-bright future.

She had not spoken to them since Sean’s funeral. She wanted to, but their son’s attorney would not permit them to speak to her. She telephoned their home a couple of times, but they did not answer. A few days later, a letter arrived from the boy’s lawyer in which condolences were expressed, but she was firmly instructed not to call again because they would not converse with her until after the conclusion of the trial — if then.

Each day of the trial, as on this morning, she walked the few short blocks from her modest home to the courthouse and sat in the same seat, rarely speaking to anyone except the deputies who helped her navigate the security checkpoint and escorted her down the hallway. During breaks in the proceeding, they stood near her as if to signal to the reporters and local townspeople who dropped in from time to time to see how the trial was progressing that she was not feeling up to speaking with anyone. A couple of the dputies pressed her to let them give her a lift home at the end of the day, but she declined appreciatively, preferring to walk back home, taking in the cool afternoon air as the sun slipped behind the gently rolling hills just beyond the city limits earlier and earlier with each passing day.

Sean and the defendant had been friends all their lives. They grew up together, participating in Boy Scouts, sports, and church activities before graduating from high school. Her son, a dedicated student determined to become an architect, won a scholarship to the state university, while his friend continued living at home with his parents and attended the local community college before transferring to the university. The two became roommates in their junior year and came home together for holidays and school breaks. It was during the break between semesters last winter that the two had decided to go out with some of their other friends for pizza and a movie. They were scheduled to begin the spring semester of their senior year in just a couple of weeks. Sean had already been accepted to the most prestigious graduate program in the state and offered a summer job with a large architectural firm.

The defendant had always had a wild streak, but had never been in any serious trouble. His parents told her many times over the years that they were grateful for the boys’ friendship because her son was a stable, responsible influence in their son’s life.

None of them had any inklin that the boys had ever engaged in street-racing. So nothing prepared them to learn that the defendant had been driving his car 110 miles per hour down Main Street that night, as conclusively established by the vehicle’s data recorder.

That night, the phone startled her when it rang at just after midnight. She had dozed off while watching television and was momentarily disoriented. But when the deep voice on the other end of the phone asked if she was the mother of Sean Carlisle, she knew something was terribly wrong. The gentleman advised that two officers should just be pulling up in front of her house to take her to the hospital because her son had been involved in a motor vehicle accident. He claimed not to know any details about Sean’s condition. Just then, the doorbell rang and the remaining events of that night unfolded as though in slow motion.

The officers escorted her into the emergency room where her priest was already waiting for her, along with the police chaplain and her long-time friend. Immediately, she was taken into the small examining room where Sean’s body had been prepared for her viewing. When the door opened and there was no sound of a respirator or other medical equipment working to sustain her son’s life, she instinctively knew that her only child had been taken from her. It was at the moment when she caught the first glimpse of her dead son that she involuntarily screamed in agony. She learned later that he died instantly at the accident scene as a result of blunt trauma.

The litigants and their attorneys exited the courtroom separately, the woman still wiping her eyes, and Judge Humphreys turned his attention to two different lawyers who were debating the details of a contract for the sale of computer equipment as the court clerk scribbled notes furiously. Townspeople were beginning to filter into the courtroom and the deputies warned them to remain silent so as not to disrupt the proceedings. Before long, the judge entertained argument from a fifth pair of attorneys about the disposition of a decedent’s assets, including several Arabian horses. A little while later, as the judge finished arraigning several prisoners wearing yellow jumpsuits and exited the courtroom, she observed the defendant’s parents enter the courtroom, accompanied by a dozen or so friends and relatives. Both wore sunglasses and looked down at the floor as they quickly took their seats immediately behind the railing separating the gallery from the table where their son would be seated in a few moments. None of them looked at or acknowledged her.

Moments later, the door to the right of the judge’s bench opened and Sean’s best friend was escorted into the courtroom by his attorney and a couple of deputies. Wearing a black shirt, grey tie, and black suit, he nodded slightly to his supporters as he took his seat next to his lawyer. Six weeks earlier, he had been convicted of vehicular manslaughter with gross negligence, as well as driving recklessly, but was allowed to remain free on bail pending this sentencing hearing. In the intervening weeks, a recommendation had been prepared and submitted to the judge for his consideration.

“All rise,” the bailiff commanded as Judge Humphries returned to the bench. Following the usual formalities, he turned to the defendant, who stood alongside his attorney to hear his fate.

“Young man, this is an enormous tragedy because the lives of two young men have been ruined — Sean Carlisle’s and your own — solely as a result of your reckless behavior,” Judge Humphreys began. He then discussed the details of the recommendation that had been submitted to him and asked the defendant if he wanted to make a statement prior to learning his sentence. On behalf of his client, the defendant’s attorney declared he would forego the opportunity to address the court.

“Very well,” the judge replied before announcing that Sean’s best friend would spend the next 16 years in state prison, followed by four years of parole following his release, for a total of 20 years.

Although the defendant neither flinched nor showed any emotion in response to the judge’s pronouncement, which was followed by a directive to the deputies to take him into custody immediately, she heard a strange, but eerily familiar sound. As the deputies pulled the young man’s hands behind his back and placed handcuffs upon them, her attention was drawn to his mother. The scene seemed to unfold before her in slow motion. His mother was being restrained by her husband on one side and, on her other side, a man she recognized as the defendant’s uncle. His mother was trying to rise from her seat, extending her arms toward and calling for her son. As she did so, the sound she emitted was more of a plaintive howl than a scream. Visceral and somewhat primitive, the sound filled the courtroom and could be heard echoing in the hallway of the courthouse by the small crowd gathered there.

Inspired by A Thousand Words: Prompt Number Eleven

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Inspired by A Thousand Words: Prompt Number Eleven

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