New Beginnings

I’m moving to Miami in two days and I have yet to pack so I’ll keep this short and sweet. The blogs that will commence from now until next year will be chronicling my first year as a secondary English teacher. Every Friday at 12 pm I will post a blog with updates about the week. Hopefully you guys tune in! Be ready for next week!

Month of May Short Story Madness - "The Road to Carlisle"

There is nothing more uncomfortable than driving down a deserted stretch of highway with a full bladder. Guys have it easy. They can pull over anywhere, discreetly pull it out and go. Women, on the other hand, have a production of untying, zipping, pulling and who knows what else. Not to mention we have to worry about some freak jumping out of the bushes, but I couldn't hold it anymore. In hindsight, I should have just peed my pants and kept going, but how could I know that he’d come my way when I hadn’t seen anyone or anything for the last fifteen miles?

He stopped just about a yard from my opened car door as I crouched next to it holding onto the door through the opened window to keep steady as I relieved myself. “Having car trouble?” He asked, seemingly oblivious to what was actually going on.

“Um, no.” My face reddened and I hoped he didn’t notice the puddle of urine forming at my feet.

Upon realizing that I was peeing on the side of the road and not having car trouble, he respectfully turned so his back was to me and he continued talking. “My car broke down about two miles back. I was hoping to find some sort of service station on this road, but it seems nothing is within close walking distance.”

I wiped myself with napkins from my glove compartment, stood up and fastened my jeans quickly. “There isn’t anything on this road for miles,” I said to his back. Although he was wearing a dress shirt, I could tell his back was muscular. I knew where this conversation was going. He wanted a ride somewhere. I briefly thought of all the stories about people who ended up dead picking up hitchhikers on this stretch of road growing up as a young girl, but the hopeless romantic in me thought this could be the start of some sort of happily-ever-after love story so I took the bait. “Where are you headed exactly?”

I closed my car door and he turned around. “I’m headed to Carlisle. It’s at least another hundred miles from here.” He tugged at the corner of his shirt that was carelessly hanging out of his slacks and I noticed his hands looked rough and there was dirt caked under his fingernails which seemed out of place for a man dressed in business attire.

“I guess you’re in luck. So am I. You can ride with me.”

“I just need a ride to a service station. You don’t have to take me that far.”

“Well, most of this area is deserted so the closest working service station would be in Carlisle. Guess you’re stuck with me,” I laughed and extended my hand, “I’m Blanche Tonto.”

“Russell Schwindler.” His hand felt like sandpaper in mine, yet there was gentleness in his touch that was welcoming.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Schwindler. Hop in. We have a long ride ahead of us.”

“You may call me Russ. Thanks. I’ll definitely fill your tank up once we get to Carlisle.”

I suddenly felt nervous as I got back into my car to travel with a stranger I met on the side of the road. I nestled into my seat while fastening my seat belt as Russ did the same on the passenger side. I studied him out of the corner of my eye while pulling out onto the road. He had this quiet confidence about him as if his disheveled appearance was deliberate rather than a result of a two mile trek along the road. His jawline was beautifully structured in a masculine way and covered in facial hair that seemed to not have been shaved in at least a week or two. His hair was cropped short and a dusty blonde color that perfectly matched his deep-set green eyes. “So are you from Carlisle? Only people from Carlisle travel this road. Everyone else uses main highways.”

“Not exactly.” His response was short, indicating he didn’t care to elaborate, but that just made me want to know more. Who was this ruggedly handsome man sitting just inches to my right? He looked out the window as we whizzed by trees and shrubbery, but it seemed as if he wasn’t looking at them, but through them. It was as if there was something heavy on his mind and I wanted to get inside his head.

“Not exactly? What does that mean?” I took a quick glance to my right to see his reaction to my question, but he seemed not to be bothered. His demeanor was calm so I didn’t feel too bad about prying further.

“I’m originally from Redford. I lived in Carlisle for five years before leaving a few months ago…” His voice trailed off as if there was more he could have said, but he got caught up in some painful memory that caused him to stop speaking. The distance in his eyes returned and I could tell there was more to his words than what appeared on the surface. The more I wondered about him, the more I felt myself drawing closer to him as if I knew him my whole life.

“You don’t have to continue if you don’t want to,” I put my right hand on his forearm and squeezed. The exchange was rather inappropriate for strangers, but I felt he needed it and in a strange way, I did too. Unexpectedly, he put his hand on mine and squeezed as if to say thank you. His touch was electric and caused a smile to form on my lips. There was an undeniable chemistry between us; at least, it was undeniable to me.

After a few moments of silence, he continued, “I loved her.” I instinctively retracted my hand and placed it back on the steering wheel. A wave of jealousy flashed through my body, but he didn’t seem to notice. “I think I loved her more than she ever loved me and that was my mistake. I moved my whole life to Carlisle just to be with her. We were happy. Well, I was happy and she pretended to be.” He clenched his fists and it was like I could see the anger surging through his fingers which didn’t match the despair on his face.

“What brings you back to Carlisle?” It was the only question I could think of. The only thing I could say without my feelings becoming so transparent that he’d regret ever saying a word to me.

“To be honest,” he began rubbing the back of his neck, “I shouldn’t even be headed to Carlisle, but I heard that she gave birth to the baby and I had to be there. I have to see her.”

“You had a baby? Congrats!” My enthusiasm at the revelation was borderline sarcastic and I was hoping he didn’t pick up on it. The little pieces of his life he was sharing with me made me desire him even though his heart belonged to another. The idea of his unavailability made him all the more desirable.

“Not exactly. The baby isn’t mine. Well, she says it isn’t, but I don’t believe her. I won’t believe her until I see that baby.” His voice wavered as if he were on the verge of tears, but from what I could see out of the corner of my eye, his face was eerily stone-like. He looked straight ahead at the stretch of road in front of us which seemed to go on forever into nothingness. “Love is funny; sometimes a cruel joke even. You go through life looking for someone you can grow as a person with; a person who can look at your flaws and quirks and still see beauty. Someone who is understanding, open, honest, and secure in who they are. That one person who you can look at each day and marvel at who they are and who they have yet to become. I used to think that she changed. That she was different than the woman I had fallen in love with, but she hadn’t. I just woke up from the ignorant slumber I blissfully rested in and saw her for the first time in the entire stretch of time that I knew her.”

I could feel in my gut that he was on his wits end. He was a broken man and I wanted nothing more than to fix him. It was a weird mix of feelings swirling inside me that I hadn’t felt for anyone ever and here was this stranger making me push good judgment to the side for what may be nothing more than a cheap thrill. I felt I owed him something. Some sort of consolation to let him know that he’d be okay. “In life you’ll meet people who say one thing and mean another. You’ll meet those who are full of themselves and do nothing, but crush others. However, in the midst of all those low quality personalities, there are the few that’ll come into your life that make you believe your ‘one’ is out there going through the same crazy search you are.”
It was the most I said the entire car ride and it seemed to be the first time he actually noticed me. “You’re beautiful.”

I blushed at his words. So simple a statement, but it meant so much to me. “Thanks.”

“What’s in Carlisle for you?”

The question took me by surprise. We spent the entire car ride talking about Russ and where he was going that my own plans were forgotten and pushed off to the side. I suddenly felt exposed and naked as if telling him my reasoning for going to Carlisle will reveal my innermost thoughts. “I used to live in Carlisle as a little girl. My grandmother passed away recently and left me her house.”

“Sorry for your loss Blanche.”

“Thanks. I didn’t know her well. Now that I think about it, that’s sort of sad because we lived in the same town. She was like a stranger, though.”

“That can happen sometimes, you know,” Russ said leaning back in his seat, “The people who should be the closest to us are the furthest away.”

I felt bad all of a sudden. I didn’t even have the decency to go back to Carlisle for the funeral and here I was, headed back now, to claim a house I barely visited when I used to live just across town. I felt as if Russ could see my thoughts and he was judging me for my past transgressions. “I’m not a bad person, you know. Life just happens so fast sometimes that you don’t realize it’s moving so rapidly until it stops.”

“I don’t think you’re a bad person Blanche. We sometimes lose sight of what’s important when we’re focused on other things. We can get tunnel vision. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re human.” I appreciated his words, but I still felt horrible. I was embarrassed. “So are you moving back to Carlisle or are you going to see what you’ll be doing about the house?”

I pondered over his question unsure of how to answer. Originally, I had no intentions of keeping the house, but now it seemed like something I must do. “I’m not exactly certain if I’m moving back just yet, but I will be keeping the house. Do you know what you will do if the baby is yours?”

“I’ll be moving back to Carlisle. No doubt about that.” That was the answer I thought he’d give and I found myself secretly hoping the baby was his. “We’re not that far from Carlisle now. It’s just another forty miles or so.”

My heart sank when I realized how close we were and that the ride would come to an end. While I hoped we would see each other again, I didn’t want to fool myself into believing this was more than just a car ride shared between strangers. Once we reached our destination, though, something in me knew we’d part ways and remain just that, strangers. “I bet you’re anxious.” I hoped he didn’t notice the hint of sadness in my voice.

“Part of me is dying to know and another part of me is hoping I never find out. There is a certain comfort and security in not knowing.” I nodded my head unsure of what to say. The closer we got to Carlisle the further away I seemed to get from him.

The rest of the ride happened so quickly and the conversation was more cordial than anything else. We were in Carlisle within an hour and I was pulling up to an apartment building I used to pass on my way to school every day as a young girl. “I can’t thank you enough for this Blanche.” Russ said, unbuckling his seatbelt and preparing to get out of the car.

“It was a pleasure Russ. You were great company,” I grabbed a scrap piece of paper and pen from the console and scribbled the address of my grandmother’s house and my cell phone number. “If you’re ever in town again or need a ride just give me a ring or stop by.”

“Will do,” He flashed me a smile, took the paper and got out of the car. “Bye Blanche.”
I waved, unable to form the words that would be a proper goodbye to such an alluring man. He disappeared into the building and a piece of me went with him. I watched another minute before pulling away and headed to my grandmother’s house.

***

A week had passed and still there was no sign of Russ. I’d driven past the apartment building I dropped him off at multiple times, but I never caught him going in or out of the building. Maybe he had already left Carlisle. I couldn’t help, but feel sad that nothing more came of our encounter. I was certain there was something between us. He consumed my thoughts and I knew I had to let it go, but I didn’t want to without seeing him at least one more time.

I sat on the couch in my grandmother’s living room and turned on the television to get my mind off of Russ and his mesmerizing green eyes. The news was on and I stared at the screen blankly, barely paying attention until a familiar face flashed across this screen. Could it be? I picked up the remote control and turned up the volume.

“Residents of Green Oak Apartments described a man looking like the sketch you see on the screen being the last person seen leaving the apartment where the young mother and her new born baby were found slain. Police are asking if anyone has any information on this man, please call 914-345-9876” the newscaster’s voice become nothing more than muffled sounds as I dropped the remote control in complete disbelief. The sketch was a dead ringer for Russ, but he couldn’t have done this. I refused to believe it. I was dumbfounded and, in a sense, I felt betrayed. He was a good guy. He had to be. I needed him to be.

I snatched up the remote and turned the television off. I looked at the coffee table where my cell phone sat and stared at it. I once looked at it as a beacon of hope that one day Russ would call and put me out of my misery of wondering whether he thought about me at all. Now I wanted nothing more than for him to lose my number and address. I got up from the couch, suddenly paranoid, and began locking windows and doors. How could I be so stupid? Happily ever afters didn’t exist. They were simply stories that weren’t finished yet.

There was a huge weight on my shoulders that felt heavier as time ticked on. Should I call the police? What did I really know about him? What if he didn’t do it? After thirty minutes of going back and forth with myself, I decided to sleep on it.

***

The next morning I had decided against calling the police. I felt slightly responsible for the two lives lost. If I hadn’t given him that ride, maybe he wouldn’t have made it to Carlisle. Maybe that young woman and that innocent little baby would still be alive. I felt like I had blood on my hands, but I was too much of a coward to come clean. I didn’t want to be involved.

I opened the front door and picked up the newspaper waiting on the front porch and quickly shut the door, locking it. On top of the newspaper was taped a folded piece of white paper. I opened it up and the color drained from my face as I read:

Beautiful,

The baby wasn’t mine.

- R. S. 

Month of May Short Story Madness - "One of the Lucky Ones"

I love you were the last words I said to him although he never heard them. I sort of whispered them to his back as he boarded the train away from this town, away from this life, and away from me. I stood on the platform watching the future I dreamed of ride away into the arms of the military and a future I never imagined unfolded right before my eyes. My insides screamed for him to take another look back and realize he was making a mistake as I stood there smiling and waving like an idiot, but he never did. Probably because the mistake was mine and not his, although I’d never admit that to him. I wanted to believe he was leaving on his own accord and maybe, somewhere deep down inside, this was the decision he would have made even if I told him the truth about the way I felt, but I’d never know.

His failure to look back was characteristic of him. Gary was never one for sentimental gestures. I, on the other hand, was often dramatic and forthcoming, but I lost myself on this platform. I swallowed up myself to allow Gary to grow beyond everything we knew and everything we were. It just couldn’t be good enough for him anymore. I wasn’t good enough for him anymore. I could tell long before he first mentioned the possibility of the military being a plausible career path for him. I cannot pinpoint exactly when my love for him overshadowed the lukewarm reception I would get from him in return and I cannot even tell you if his indifference was real or imagined, but either way it was a sentencing for the death of the only thing I wanted more than anything in this world.

Gary and I grew up together and anyone in the small town of Spring Hill, Connecticut would tell you we were destined for one another. I sure believed it and I like to think Gary thought so too, but that’s just wishful thinking. He was always above the simple life we grew up in and I was never quite more than this town. In fact, my mindset may have been even a bit smaller and Gary knew this, although he never said it. This is how I knew when Gary wrote me from basic training asking if I’d marry him, I had to say no. That was the end of September. Here I stood now, after weeks of not speaking, bidding farewell when I wanted nothing more than to say hello again to my love. And he left without so much as a goodbye, giving a quick handshake and a small, awkward smile more fitting for strangers than once-upon-a-time lovers. Then again, maybe we always were strangers after all. If not to each other, we were to ourselves.

Long after his train departed, I stood cemented in the same spot on the platform staring at the space it vacated. It once held everything and now it left nothing. My heart beat violently as I kept staring and hoping his train would reappear and he’d come running toward me, swooping me in his arms, holding tight as if he never wanted to let go; as if he’d never see me again. His scent lingered in my nostrils and caused a smile to dance on my lips that gave way to an involuntary fit of the giggles. To anyone else on that platform I must have looked like a damned fool, but to me it just felt right. The memories flooded my mind as I inhaled him deeper and I could see everything so much clearer now that he wasn’t in my sight. I laughed because I was happy for him and also because I was sad for me. It was the least I could do to keep from crying.

“What’s so funny, Lily?” Little Tommy Sabio asked. He had been watching the trains come and go all day, as customary for him to do on a weekend day, and came running up to me just as I was wiping away the tears of my laughter.

“Nothing really,” I giggled into my hands as if to keep the laugh inside.

“Then why are you laughing?” Tommy placed his hands on his chubby hips and tilted his head to the side as if sizing me up.

“Just because, I suppose”.

“My mom says ‘just because’ isn’t a real answer. Hasn’t your mom ever told you that before?”

Just as suddenly as the laughter began, it stopped. I stared at Tommy and wanted to pluck him in his round, pudgy nose. “I haven’t had a mom since I was fourteen years old, Tommy. If she has told me that before, I must have forgotten.” I tugged at the loose strands of my hair falling from my otherwise normally well-coiffed bun suddenly aware of myself and ashamed of my behavior following this bitter farewell.

“Well, where did she go?”

“Somewhere only the lucky people get to go,” I sat on the bench of the platform staring at my large shadow on the wooden planks.

“Oh, to heaven. I’m so sorry Lily.”

“No, no, no. Not heaven. Away from here. Out of Spring Hill. She moved with her new husband.”

“And she didn’t take you with her? That’s awful!”

“Oh she wanted to,” I said, “but I refused.”

“Why would you do a thing like that?”

“I stayed for Gary.”

It was Tommy’s turn to laugh now and he made a big production of it, slapping his turkey-like thighs and snorting like a fat, little pig. “That’s pretty funny considering now Gary has gone and you’re still here!”
I looked up at him, tears stinging my eyes. I looked once again at the empty train tracks that I had temporarily forgotten about and felt the urge to jump aboard the next train that stopped. I had no idea where I would go, but anywhere had to be better than under the observant eye of Tommy. I stood up and then sat back down, only to stand up again filled with a resolve I hadn’t felt since I decided to stay in Spring Hill many years ago. “When is the next train coming?”

“It’ll be at least another thirty to forty minutes from now. It’s the weekend, you know. They come far apart. Want to know where it’s going?”

“No. I just need to know it’s coming.”

“What are you going to do when it comes Lily?”

“Get on it, of course.”

“But Lily, where will you go?”

“I don’t really know Tommy.”

“Won’t you be afraid? What about your life here?”

“I’m more afraid than I’ve ever been in my life. I’ve been sheltered by this town Tommy. Not from the outside world, but from myself.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Oh that’s neither here nor there. You may someday.”

“But still, Lily, how can you leave everything behind?”

“Because everything just boarded a train about forty minutes ago and I should have been on that train too.”

Tommy looked at me with questions still written on his face, but he didn’t say anything else. He just slowly walked closer to me, grabbed my hand, and squeezed it. I looked down at him silently thanking him for the small gesture. It was all the affirmation I needed to know that I was doing the right thing. So we stood there, Tommy and me, at the edge of the platform looking down the tracks for the train that would carry me away from this town, away from this life, and away from myself.

Month of May Short Story Madness - "Spilled Coffee"

Eva hurriedly scrubbed her carpet, tears streaming her face. She didn't want the stain to set and ruin her tan carpet. It truly wasn't worth the effort if you took a look around her ratty apartment with the dingy wallpaper that was curling in the corners, the patchwork sofa adorning the tiny living room and the multitude of other stains already set into her carpet, but this particular stain had to go. Her daughter, Molly, would be waking up soon and she didn't feel like explaining to her that sometimes mommies made mistakes; sometimes mommies did bad things. No, she couldn't engineer an adequate response for her inquisitive five-year-old so early in the morning, so she continued to scrub with haste.
           
A few strands of hair escaped her tightly pulled back ponytail, falling into her face. Oddly enough, that is exactly how her life turned out. She used to be the type of mom that would taxi around children when it was her turn for carpool duties, making snacks for seemingly famished young children, and settling disputes between friends. She lived a sad existence now that she couldn't have imagined just a year prior, but the proof was in her current surroundings. The proof was in this nagging stain.
           
Eva sat up on her knees, wiping sweat that beaded up on her forehead with the back of her gloved hand. The stain was more stubborn than she anticipated. Looking straight ahead at nothing in particular she thought back to the cause of it and wept. She was a mess and it was evident in the way she approached life in a disconnected manner. Last night proved she had reached her wits end.
           
He came in the middle of the night, much like a stranger coming to steal her meager belongings, but his condescending nature was all too familiar and he had already taken from her so much more than any material possession was worth. Her ex-husband, Paul, came rushing to her apartment under the pretense that Molly was ill around 3 am. She had practiced her speech a million times prior to calling him and asking him to rush over, but when he was in her presence, nothing came out.

            
"Is Molly okay?" he asked, rushing into her apartment heading in the direction of their daughter's bedroom.
            
"She's fine. Sleeping, actually," Eva responded coolly. Paul turned to look at her and his eyes lit up in recognition of what was going on as if a battery were inserted into his back and his brain just started to power up.
           
"Eva, you can't keep doing this. We agreed things would be this way long ago. Stop fighting it!"
            
"I didn't agree Paul. You tricked me with your fancy words I couldn't understand. And those ridiculous clauses in the prenuptial agreement," she said. Eva thought of the agreement she signed and shook her head. Paul owned a small coffee franchise in their small town and wanted to protect everything he had acquired. So much so that he included clauses which said Eva would be entitled to nothing if she publicly defamed or embarrassed his business. She didn't care about the money. It was their daughter she was concerned with. The agreement also stated that in the event they ever divorced, she'd relinquish full custody to him of whatever children they had and she'd have them for one day a week. She hadn't known that when she stupidly signed, but she was made aware of that during their divorce proceedings. "I was only eighteen!"
            
"You were an adult."
            
"You can't keep doing this to me Paul."
            
"What are you going to do about it Eva? You have nothing."
            
"I was afraid you'd say that," Eva said, pulling a small handgun out of the pocket of her tattered, blue robe. She shot him right in the head without blinking. It was as if she had a conjugal relationship with the gun and it did her bidding faithfully, as it dutifully vowed upon their union.

           
"Mommy," Molly called, jarring Eva from her thoughts, "are you okay? What happened?" Eva smiled at her daughter pulling Molly close to her side, shielding her from the blood stain on the carpet right near her tiny feet, knowing that their exchanges would soon be nothing, but one consecutive lie after another. She hoped her daughter would someday understand and would maintain her jubilant nature.
           
"Yes baby. Mommy is okay. I just, uh, spilled some coffee."

Month of May Short Story Madness - "Water for the Soul"

"He left everything to her?" Jonah spat vehemently, pacing the floor. "This must be some kind of mistake. I'm his son." I watched Jonah in his expensive tailored suit and Italian leather shoes. If he kept pacing the way he was, he'd burn a hole in the floor.
           
"It says so right here," Jameson, the family lawyer and long-time friend, said. I could hear the uneasiness in his voice. This was difficult news for him to give. He watched Jonah grow up and now he had to tell him that he had nothing coming to him, but the trust fund he was eligible for in one year when he turned eighteen.
           
"This has to be a mistake! He wouldn't leave her anything!" Jonah's voice began to waver and my heart ached for him. I wanted to reach out to him and hold him, but it would only upset him more. He didn't want that kind of comfort from me. He stared at me with daggers in his eyes and fists clenched so tight that his knuckles were turning white. "You did this, didn't you?"
           
I looked at Jonah with a pained expression on my face. Couldn't he see that his disdain for me hurt me? Couldn't he tell from the moment I laid eyes on him I loved him? It couldn't be that hard to tell, could it? I averted my eyes for a split second, trying to think of something to say to trigger some sort of compassion in him. "No, I didn't. I loved your father very much. I love you too, Jonah."
           
"Yeah, that's a likely story. You tell a lot of stories, don't you? Trying to fill my head with lies, the way you did my old man, huh?" Jonah finally sat in the chair adjacent to mine and looked at Jameson, "What am I supposed to do now, man? Where am I to go?" He rubbed his hand over his face and I could see his eyes glistening with tears.
           
Clearing his throat, Jameson offered, "You could stay with Veronica. After all, she is your -"
           
"No!" Jonah jumped up from his seat again. "Don't you dare say that Jameson!" By this time, real tears escaped Jonah's eyes and every fiber in my being wanted to console him, but I remained quiet and still. "My father is dead and you think she will take care of me?"
           
His words hurt me. He referred to me as if I were just some random person off the street trying to take money that belonged to him. I could care less about the money to be honest. The one thing I really wanted, I couldn't buy. "Jonah, please listen to me for a second," I spoke carefully and pointedly, "I know you may never want me as a part of your life, but let me take care of you. It's the least I can do."
           
"The least you can do? Really, Veronica? Let me save you the trouble. Don't do anything. You're good at that." He began to pace again.
           
I looked at Jameson who was looking at me expectantly. Our relationship was always a rocky one and I could tell whose side he was on. Legally, his hands were tied and he had to follow Parker's wishes as outlined by the will. "Veronica, you need to get a handle on this. Jonah needs someone and that someone should be you."
           
Jonah stopped in his tracks and turned to face Jameson. "You have got to be kidding me? Once she gets her hands on my father's money, she'll be off in some tropic somewhere, getting high or something. She doesn't need me holding her down. Isn't that right, Veronica?" Jonah had this weird look on his face that I couldn't quite place. It was like a mixture of malice and delight. It was as if he was pleased he slipped in that comment about me getting high in front of Jameson.
           
"Jonah why don't you step outside and let us adults talk amongst ourselves for a while," Jameson suggested. While doing without Jonah's outbursts would be less heartbreaking, it is hardly a reprieve. Jameson wouldn't skirt around the issue at hand with Jonah out of the room.
           
"Whatever man," Jonah turned and left the room, mumbling curses under his breath obviously meant for me. My heart felt as if it were breaking into thousands of tiny pieces.
           
"Well, I guess we can't avoid the pink walrus in the room any longer," I chuckled nervously.
           
"Elephant," Jameson corrected.
           
"What?"
           
"You mean elephant. The phrase is pink elephant."
           
"Oh," I rubbed my hands nervously on my thighs. "Look Jameson, I know you don't particularly care for me, but you have to believe me when I tell you I loved Parker and I most definitely love Jonah. Coming back here was not for money, it was to get my family back."
           
"Veronica, I do believe that you loved Parker and you love Jonah, but I'm not the one you have to convince of that. Do you know what that boy has been through these last sixteen years of his life? You know nothing about him except the fact that you do love him and he knows nothing about you except what Parker chose to tell."
           
"But he's my son."
           
"Biologically, yes. That does not make you his mother though. He longed for you growing up Veronica and where were you? They both needed you. You show up again last year after all that time and think all is forgiven and forgotten. It does not work that way."
           
"With all due respect Jameson, there is a lot about me you don't know and Parker forgave me. I can never give those sixteen years back to Jonah. Never! If it is all right with you, I am going to take my son to the beach house and try to talk to him. Maybe I can get through to him."
           
Jameson threw his hands up in the air. "Veronica, you're a real piece of work. That boy is fragile and so are you. When things get tough again and you're ready to run, what is going to become of Jonah?"
           
"There is nowhere to run this time." I stood up smoothing wrinkles from my creme colored skirt and turned quickly to avoid more conversation. Once out the door, I motioned to Jonah to come on. I could hear him suck his teeth, but he really had no choice so he reluctantly followed me, sulking.

***

I sat in the beach chair smoking a cigarette watching the waves rush toward the shore. There was something calming about the sea that made the beach house my favorite place to be. It was as if maybe the sea could wash over me and cleanse me of my past transgressions. The ride home from Jameson's office was awkward. Jonah refused to talk to me and I really didn't know what to say to him. Truth be told, I had no idea how to be a mother.
           
Running is what I did best. When things get tough, I run. When I was younger, I ran from home at fifteen because my mother was an abusive drunk. I turned to the streets for the love I didn't get at home and let drugs become my lullaby at night. When I met Parker, he cleaned me up and made me his wife. Things were okay for a while. We'd spend many nights on this very beach, watching the stars and listening to the waves. He used to tell me stories of how the sea was made from the tears of God. All those tears were for all the suffering His people went through. Swimming in the ocean was a way to become clean from all the wrong we've done and come close to God. He assured me if I went in the water, I'd be cleansed forever of the stigma that followed me because of my drug use.
           
I never did though. While the sea called me, I ignored its calls. Parker would fuss at me, saying that I wanted to hold on to a piece of an old life I needed to leave behind. When we had Jonah, I had enough. There was something inside me that knew both Parker and Jonah needed something more than what I was capable of being or giving. My soul was unclean. So I ran. I didn't think about consequences then. Life was tough out there for me. Sleeping in parks, eating out of garbage cans, sharing needles. That's the kind of life I left this paradise for.
           
"Veronica," Jonah began, standing over me, "the telephone is for you. It's the doctor's office."
           
"Thank you. Tell them I'll call them on my cell phone." I didn't want to talk to them in the house when Jonah would be in ear shot nor did I want to risk the chance that he'd listen on another extension.
           
"Yeah okay. Um, Veronica, can I ask you something?"
           
"Yes dear. You may ask me anything."
           
"Is there something wrong with you? You've been staring at the ocean forever."
           
"Not in the least. Don't you worry. I'm just thinking of cleansing my soul."
           
"Oh I'm not worried. I was just wondering in case you wanted to do me a favor and go drown or something."
           
"Have you ever been afraid of anything Jonah?"
           
"What do you mean?"
           
"Well, I'm afraid that one day I'm going to wither away and die and people will just go on and live as if I never existed. Everyone will just forget me."
           
"I think you caused that yourself Veronica."
           
I sat quietly and pondered over his cruel words. Maybe I deserved them, but I'd never know. He left me sitting here to lick my wounds without any thought to how I might feel. Maybe this was his way of showing me what it felt like to be abandoned. I couldn't ponder on it too long because I had to call the doctor's office back.
           
Punching in the numbers on my cell phone, I felt a chill run down my spine. This would be one of the single most important phone calls I'd make in my life to date. "Yes hi. This is Veronica Davis calling back."
           
"Oh hi Mrs. Davis. Dr. Shaw wanted you to know your test results are in. When would you like to come in to discuss them?" the receptionist responded. Her cheerful tone almost seemed unfitting for the particular conversation we were having but I ignored it.
           
"I don't want to come in. I want them over the phone, now."
           
"Oh, um, Dr. Shaw normally doesn't do that, but I can see. Please hold."
           
I drummed my fingers on the arm of the chair, with my cigarette still in hand. The anticipation made the wait seem longer than it actually was, but hopefully the results of this test would lift a tremendous weight off of my shoulders. I needed to know.
           
"Hello, Dr. Shaw here," I heard the doctor's baritone voice sound over the phone. "Are you sure you want your results over the phone?"
           
"It'll save me some gas and I'm just anxious to know. So yes I do. Give it to me straight please."
           
"Well, first I just want to let you know that I'll do everything in my power to -"
           
"Dr. Shaw, please. Positive or negative?"
           
The doctor let out a long sigh before saying, "Positive, I'm afraid, Mrs. Davis. Believe me though, it's no longer a death sentence."
           
"I'm HIV positive." I couldn't think of anything, but all the time I spent away from my son. The years I couldn't give back to him and all the time I wasted running. "Thank you, doctor."
           
"But Mrs. Davis, please come in so we can discuss what to do next. It's imperative that we start treatment as soon as possible."
           
"Not right now. What I really need to do is cleanse my soul." I hung up the phone before he could get in a word edgewise and dialed Jameson's number.
           
When Jameson answered, I said quickly, "I need you to draw me up a will and leave everything to Jonah." I hung up just as quickly. Standing up and putting out my cigarette, I dropped my phone beside me in the sand and started running towards the ocean. I picked up speed as I got closer until my feet grazed the wet sand and rushing waves. I went deeper and deeper into the ocean until the water reached my belly button. Then I stood there, staring out into the seemingly endless sea and did something I haven't done in a very long time. I cried. I cried for Jonah. I cried for Parker. I cried for myself. I allowed my salty tears to fall off my face into the ocean, ridding my soul of the poisonous thoughts and feelings I kept bottled inside, allowing my soul to be cleansed. For my late husband, for my son, and for me.

Month of May Short Story Madness - "The Fruit of the Garden of Eden"

Eden nervously drummed her fingers on the kitchen table, nursing an already cold, black cup of coffee in her favorite orange coffee mug. She had a bad feeling about today, but she couldn't place her finger on it. She just knew something wasn't right. "Would you quit that?" Wendell asked, peering from behind his newspaper at his wife.
         
 "Oh, sorry," she said, flashing him a weak smile, "It's just, I have a bad feeling, Wen."
         
 Never taking his eyes from the paper, he asked, "What is it Eden?"
           
"I don't know. It's just...we've never done anything like this before."
        
She pushed the center of the newspaper down with her index finger, commanding his attention. Reluctantly, he folded the paper and placed it on the table beside his untouched breakfast. "Eden, look, I know you're nervous, but honestly, we need the money. There isn't much more to it."
           
Eden rolled her eyes. It was just like Wendell to say that they needed the money, but she had to do all the work. That was just how their marriage worked. Wendell was the brains and she was the brawn, so to speak. "But isn't this sort of illegal?"
           
"Sort of," Wendell laughed in a questioning tone, "Of course it is and that's why no one can know Eden. Not one soul." He stared into Eden's hazel eyes hoping she understood the seriousness of his statement. Eden nodded, taking another sip of coffee to hide her doubt. Wendell couldn't know that her faith in him was wavering.
           
Wendell picked the newspaper back up and continued reading where he left off, while Eden got up from the table abandoning her cold coffee in hopes of finding some other mindless task to focus her energy on. She had to get a hold of her nerves. Women did this every day, but something about her doing it just didn't sit right with her. Something about today made their plans - Wendell's plans - seem more threatening to her sanity than any other day.
         
 Looking outside the bay window of the living room, she stared out at the perfectly lined homes with their perfectly manicured lawns housing seemingly perfectly happy families. Each decorated with patriotic paraphernalia to celebrate the Fourth of July. Her home appeared as if it was haphazardly placed there by mistake with her overgrown lawn and sad excuses of spider web decorations made from stretched out cheesecloth from Halloween nine months ago. What she wouldn't give to swap lives with one of the other wives on her street. They had normal lives and marriages, and to her normalcy was a valuable asset to be desired.
         
 "Would you quit worrying," Wendell asked walking into the living room with his car keys in hand, "you're going to do great. Just remember, stroke his ego a little and see if you can get him to pay a little more."
         
 "Wait, Wen. You won't be staying here with me?" Eden instinctively put a hand on her round, pregnant belly. "You've got to stay here with me."
         
 "Eden I can't. I've already agreed to barbecue for the Coopers today for a little money. You'll do fine honey. I promise."
         
 "But it's a holiday. Why can't he come another day?"
         
 "That's just the way it is. Got to go." Wendell kissed her forehead and turned quickly on his heels before she could get another word in edgewise. From her position near the window, she could see Wendell pulling out the driveway and disappearing down the street. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she forced herself not to cry.
         
 Life with Wendell wasn't always this way. At one point in their marriage, maybe even if it was just the beginning part, they were very happy. A change occurred about twenty years ago and she never understood why, but she accepted it because she loved Wendell. She married him when she was only sixteen years old and was certain their life would be the fairy tale she had hoped it would be. This part of their marriage must have been the story that happens once the fairy tale ends.
           
Holding onto her belly, Eden felt the urge to cry again. From the beginning of their marriage, Wendell made it very clear that he did not want to have children and he was still firm on that stance. She always assumed that as they lived their lives together a change of heart would be inevitable, but she was wrong. Wendell never felt that intrinsic desire to father his own children; not even when she announced five months ago that she was pregnant and not even when they found out she was pregnant with a baby boy. He just came up with another scheme to make money off of an undesirable circumstance and somehow convinced her to go along with it.
           
Wendell found a single man, who had no plans of marrying, but wanted children and offered to sell their baby to him. Her baby. He couldn't do a simple adoption, and she refused from the beginning to have an abortion. Somehow Wendell was always able to dodge a bullet, even in friendly fire.
         
 "Don't worry baby," Eden spoke out loud to her unborn child, rubbing her stomach, "no matter what happens, just know your mama loves you. Although it may not seem like it, it's true." She felt horrible, selling off her child like people do to the young of an animal. It was unnatural, but she loved Wendell and she wasn't strong enough to raise a child on her own. Not now anyway.
         
 She looked at her watch, waiting impatiently for this man to arrive. Wendell didn't tell her much. He just let her know that he was young, single , and successful. He'd be able to afford to give the baby everything Wendell wasn't willing to and everything Eden wasn't able to. It was as if fireworks exploded inside of Eden as the reality of her situation began to sink in. Eden was an unfit mother. At least, that's the way she saw herself after living with Wendell.
         
 Jarring her out of her thoughts, an expensive looking vehicle she never seen before, looking more like a spaceship than a car, pulled into her driveway. She ran from the window to the mirror in the foyer, wiping any remaining tears from her face. She waited at the door until she heard the doorbell ring and opened it, pasting a fake smile on her face. "I'm so happy you're finally here. I've been dying to meet you. I'm Eden." She extended her hand and shook his. "Please come in." She stared at the man's brown eyes, curly hair, and bronzed skin as if kissed by the sun. He was definitely handsome and eerily familiar.
         
 "Thanks. I'm John. He told you about me?" the young man asked with a quizzical expression on his face.
         
 "Of course Wendell did," Eden replied, leading John to the living room and motioning for him to take a seat on the love seat as she sat across from him on the matching beige, leather sofa. "Why wouldn't he? He wouldn’t be able to place our baby in a home without my consent." She laughed playfully.
         
 "Baby? Why would he give me your baby?"
         
 "Well, he isn't giving you our baby. He's selling him to you. Why do I feel this is your first time hearing all of this?"
           
"I don't know what he told you about me or what you guys have going on here, but he doesn't even know I'm here today. Is he even home?" John asked, looking around the modestly decorated living room.
           
"No, he had to step out and what do you mean he doesn't know you're here?"
           
"Well, he doesn't. I haven't spoken to him in about a month. I came to make amends."
           
"Well if you aren't here to buy our baby, then who are you?" Eden asked confused and slightly embarrassed at how much she revealed to a stranger.
           
Looking equally uncomfortable, John shifted his weight and then delivered a blow Eden wasn't prepared for. "I'm his son."

Digging Up the Past - Part II

Another post from my old blog.

The Author Platform

The author platform is possibly the hardest thing for a novice to create for themselves when starting out. Generally speaking, if your name is not big enough, it is hard to get people to get interested in you and what you’re saying. I know how hard that can be because that is what I am currently working on at this point in my career. I know most of my readers are not writers and if they are, they’re hobbyists, who do not plan or want to gain a career from their writing. Therefore, this post and any subsequent posts that appear on Wednesdays will be geared towards introducing readers to my world as an aspiring published author. Additionally, any posts that appears on Sundays will be geared towards my personal life and introducing readers to my life outside of writing.

Being an aspiring published author, I do a lot of reading on how to catch an agent or publisher’s attention. I must admit that when I first decided I wanted to published, I was convinced I did not want an editor nor did I want to go through the process of snagging one. I did keep my options open, however, because I am still new to this world and any valuable piece of information I can get is valuable to me, I decided to look into what a literary agent can do for me and how I can one. Apparently, an agent is an author’s best advocate and has relationships with many different editors in many different publishing houses. Basically, having an agent can mean the difference between being read by an editor and being put into the slush pile.

Getting a literary agent is not an easy task though. It should be taken as serious as getting a publisher. Given the enormous amount of queries agents receive on a daily basis it is important for an author to have a platform that can show an agent that the author has the means to promote their book to a large audience. This is the stage that I am currently at in my career. I am in the process of building an author platform. I underestimated how hard it could be to get people interested in you and what you’re doing (including family and friends). To begin this, I have created a Facebook page and I am working to beef up my blog. I’m learning as I go and while it is hard, it is an enjoyable process. In addition to have an established audience, having publication credits can also grab an agent’s attention. Therefore, I am entering short story contests and submitting work to literary magazines and journals. As I continue to embark on this journey, I hope you all will be there with me. It’s a tough road to travel alone and I can use all the help and support I can get.

***Special Note***

For the five Fridays in the month of May, I will be posting 5 of my old short stories. One story for each Friday. Be sure to come back to the blog Friday May 2, when the first story will be started, and every Friday after that @ noon.