Blog-a-thon 2008

Blog-a-thon ’08: Welcome Home [4]

Want to know what’s going on? Visit this page.

This an ongoing story that I’m posting over the next several hours. Though I have an idea what I want to write, it’s not written – so this story will be rough, really rough, but I thrive on this impromptu stuff so … there you go. 🙂 Thanks for reading!

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Welcome Home

“So there you are,” an attractive woman, her light brown hair perfectly lacquered in place, her dusty pink lipstick professionally applied, her light denim jacket and khaki slacks wrinkle-free, sat down beside her.

Alecia suddenly felt grubby and rumpled. She’d had a chance to take a rare shower and comb her hair, she hadn’t had time to actually fix it, so her long black hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Though her clothes were clean, they looked like she had left them in the dryer too long and then just grabbed them in a hurry to dress.

Which is exactly what happened, actually.

“Hello Margie,” Alecia said with a warm smile and leaned in close so the woman could give her a soft kiss on the cheek. “Have a seat. I think we still have a while to wait until Carter’s plane gets here.”

Alecia’s mother-in-law sat down beside her and wiggled her fingers at the baby. “Hello sugar pie.” Lisa kicked so hard at the sight of her grandma that the bottle slipped from her mouth. A small amount of milk worked it’s way out from between her lips and dribbled down her chin.

“Oopsie,” Alecia said and leaned to rip a cloth out of the side of the diaper bag. She swiftly cleaned off the baby’s chin before offering the bottle to Lisa once more.

“You’re getting quite good at juggling several things at once,” Margie said with a smile.

“No thanks to you.”

Margie waved her words aside and settled back into her seat. She took a moment to look out across the crowded room before saying, “There are a lot of people here, today.”

“That’s what I thought, too. I’m guessing there are a lot of military personnel coming home today.”

Margie continued to look straight ahead, but Alecia knew she was being watched, nonetheless. “So, are you nervous?”

She knew what she was talking about. Not so much the fact that she hadn’t seen her husband in ten months, she was more excited than nervous about seeing him, but she was nervous about presenting him with his daughter for the first time. How would Lisa react? Would she shy away from him because he was a stranger? Even though that was a real possibility, Alecia’s heart twisted at the thought that that might hurt her husband’s feelings.

Picturing that scene in her mind, she didn’t trust herself to speak without releasing a sob, so she simply nodded in response.

Margie patted her on the knee. “He is going to be so excited to see you two, Alecia.”

Alecia smiled and took the now empty bottle from Lisa’s mouth. She wiped her daughter’s face clean before tossing the cloth over her shoulder and lifting Lisa for a burp. “Where’s Vince?”

Margie’s smile faded and she reached out a hand to stroke her granddaughter’s fist.
“This is … not a good day for him.”

“I’m so sorry,” Alecia said while continuing to lightly pat Lisa’s back. “What have the doctors said?”

“It’s,” Margie paused, visibly swallowed and regained control of her emotions before continuing, “It’s just a matter of time.”

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So, the winner of this book?

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A Year of Absence: Six women’s stories of courage, hope and love by Jessica Redmond

Carolyn!!! Congratulations!!

Two people left comments for this book:

Carolyn and Alessandra. Thank you ladies!!

I know this is moving fast – sorry about that!! But that’s how a blog-a-thon works. I hope you can keep up with me! I’m having a BLAST trying to keep my head above water and I’m writing this story as I go along, so WHEW! It’s been quite a challenge! And just think, I have another 18 hours to go!!

Stay with me … you’ll have a chance to win another book shortly!

Blog-a-thon 2008

Blog-a-thon ’08: Welcome Home [3]

Want to know what’s going on? Visit this page.

This is an ongoing story that I plan on posting over the next several hours. Though I have an idea what I want to write, it’s not written – so this story will be rough, really rough. 🙂 Thanks for reading!

___________________________

Welcome Home

A warning cry from her daughter captured her attention. She knew that sound. If she didn’t feed Lisa within the next fifteen minutes, the whole building would hear her displeasure.

Alecia rummaged in the large diaper bag and pulled out a bottle. She had finished making the formula moments before they had left the apartment, so she shook a few droplets onto her forearm – it was warm, but not hot.

“All right, baby girl,” she said as she balanced the bottle between her knees, “lunch time.” She unfastened the baby from the stroller and lifted her out of the carriage. A few people passing by slowed to look at them. Alecia squirmed and settled the baby next to her breast feeling self-conscious and on display. Though she could understand people’s curiosity, she still wished people would just ignore her.

A woman, most likely in her late 40’s, stopped completely to watch. Alecia could feel her cheeks grow warm under the woman’s scrutiny. She plucked the bottle from between her knees and rubbed the nipple gently against Lisa’s lips; she smiled as the baby gave it a greedy suck.

“Someone was hungry!” she said softly. Lisa lifted a tiny hand to her mother; Alecia placed her index finger in the baby’s palm, the small fingers curled around her skin and squeezed.

“Let’s go Wanda,” the man beside the woman who had stopped said. “We’re going to be late.”

“She knows that breast milk is best, right?” the woman said with a haughty sniff.
The man shot her an apologetic look before practically dragging the woman away from them.

Alecia had kept her eyes trained on the baby, so it was most likely the woman thought she hadn’t heard her.

But she had heard and it made her sad. She sighed, her breath gently stirring the fine hairs on her daughter’s head. “Life doesn’t exactly turn out like you planned,” she murmured. Lisa blinked in response.

Alecia raised her head and squinted toward the security gate. What she wouldn’t give to be able to go inside and check the monitors. She hated being stuck outside and not knowing her husband’s flight status. She jostled her daughter around so she could once more look at her watch.

Only twelve minutes had gone by since the last time she checked her watch. She forced herself to relax and looked back down at her daughter, who was staring up at her with intense blue eyes. She smiled. The baby responded by smiling back.

“Daddy will be here soon, baby girl.”

Lisa kicked her legs in response.

_____________________

It’s time for a chance to win this book!

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A Year of Absence: Six women’s stories of courage, hope and love by Jessica Redmond

If you would like to win this book, just leave a comment on any of the posts between NOW and 11:00 a.m. U.S. central time! A winner will be announced in the 11:30 a.m. U.S. central time entry!

Blog-a-thon 2008

Blog-a-thon ’08: Welcome Home [2]

Want to know what’s going on? Visit this page.

This is the beginning of an ongoing story that I plan on posting over the next several hours. Though I have an idea what I want to write, it’s not written – so this story will be rough, really rough, but I thrive on this impromptu stuff so … there you go. 🙂 Thanks for reading!

___________________________

Welcome Home

Alecia could feel, rather than see, her baby girl tensing from the sudden, and unexpected noise and activity of the airport. They were from a small town, so their airport was smaller than most, but it seemed overly crowded to Alecia. Though she had only been to the airport a half dozen times in her life, it had never been this busy.

She muttered a smattering of apologizes as she navigated the stroller through the throng of people. It wasn’t until they had found a series of seats, all arranged in a half circle by a large window overlooking the drop-off area, did she relax her hold on the baby carrier.

“Whew,” she exhaled as she plopped down on the hard, cushioned seat. “There are a lot of people here today,” she said while dragging the diaper bag off the stroller. “I’m betting there are a lot of military people coming home today.” She pushed the diaper bag under her feet and swept a hand across her moist forehead. “What do you think, Lisa?”

The baby began waving her arms and kicking her feet at the sound of her name.

Alecia laughed and settled back in her seat. She continued to gaze at her beautiful daughter, the love she had for this little being, the creature that her and her husband had made, (she still hadn’t quite come to terms with that fact), caused her eyes to twinkle and her face to soften.

“You’ll be a good girl for mommy, right?” She nervously chewed on her lower lip. The plane was scheduled to land in two hours. She glanced at her watch and then lifted her gaze to look out of the window. Her in-laws were supposed to meet her in twenty minutes. She hoped her baby girl would behave herself until grandma got there.

“Excuse me,” a tall, thin man with a long thick scar running across his right cheek addressed her.

Alecia stiffened and pasted on a polite smile. “Yes?”

“Are these seats taken?”

He gestured to the seats on either side of her. “Actually,” she cleared her throat. “I’m expecting my in-laws to be here any minute, so I need a few of them.” She offered a smile to soften the rejection.

“Oh, okay. I understand,” he responded and glanced down at the baby. “She’s adorable.”

Lisa blinked up at the strange man.

“Thank you,” Alecia said and sat up a little straighter. Lisa was a beautiful baby. She had thick, soft hair the color of a raven’s wing and dark blue eyes that sparkled like jewels in her round face. The baby offered a smile at the stranger, a dimple, just to the left of her moist mouth deepened.

“Ah, she’s going to be a heart breaker.”

Alecia chuckled and nodded. “I’m afraid you’re right about that.”

The stranger nodded politely and moved down several seats to settle slowly into a chair.

Alecia studied the man from under her lashes. She was curious to know if this man had served in the military. Had he received that scar in service? Was his body stiff from combat? Her thoughts turned to her own husband and she wondered if Carter’s scars would be visible, or merely buried deep inside.

_____________________

It’s time for a chance to win this book!

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A Year of Absence: Six women’s stories of courage, hope and love by Jessica Redmond

If you would like to win this book, just leave a comment on any of the posts between NOW and 11:00 a.m. U.S. central time! A winner will be announced in the 11:30 a.m. U.S. central time entry!

Blog-a-thon 2008

Blog-a-thon ’08: Welcome Home [1]

Want to know what’s going on? Visit this page.

This is the beginning of an ongoing story that I plan on posting over the next 22 hours. Though I have an idea what I want to write, it’s not written – so this story will be rough, really rough, but I thrive on this impromptu stuff so … there you go. 🙂 Thanks for reading!

___________________________

Welcome Home

Alecia slammed the trunk of her ’97 Buick Skylark shut. She grunted slightly as she unfolded the huge, pink monster stroller and locked it in place. She had only had the stroller for a month, a gracious gift from her in-laws, but she still didn’t feel completely comfortable using the thing. She triple checked to make sure the stroller was properly assembled before wheeling it around the side of the car. She opened the back door and smiled at her baby.

“Hey there baby girl,” she said in a sing-song voice. “Are you ready to go inside?”

The baby waved a tiny fist as way of greeting and flashed a toothless grin. A bubble of spittle popped at the side of her mouth, leaving tiny droplets of moisture dotting her lower lip. Alecia chuckled.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

She grabbed the pink and purple pastel diaper bag and dragged the heavy bag across the seat. “For a tiny person, you sure need a lot of stuff,” she mumbled under her breath.

The baby cooed in response.

Alecia placed the diaper bag on the ground and then reached in to unbuckle her daughter. Her fingers moved automatically and she had her free in record time.

“I remember when this used to take me forever,” Alecia said while lifting the tiny girl from the car seat. “I’m getting pretty good at this mommy stuff.”

She gently placed her daughter into the stroller, buckled her in, balanced the heavy diaper bag onto her shoulder and began the trek across the short-term parking lot, her head held up high.

The day had finally come. After ten long months of short, frantic, hurried phone calls, pages of emails and countless sleepless nights, they were finally going to see him.

She hoped he hadn’t changed.

She knew he had to have changed.

Alecia blinked back tears of apprehension and lifted her chin. Now was the not the time to get teary eyed, she would need all of her strength to see herself, and her daughter, through the next two hours.

She stiffened her arm around her baby girl as she made her way across the airport driveway. Though the traffic hadn’t been bad when she first entered the parking lot, numerous cars now dotted the drop-off lane. Her large, sky-blue eyes quickly scanned the people lined up on the sidewalk. Most were busy tugging large pieces of multi-colored luggage from the trunks of cars, a handful of people stared expectantly down the driveway, their expressions tight and eager as they waited for their rides.

Alecia maneuvered her way between the parked cars and pushed her way into the airport. The blast of cold air hit them squarely in the face.

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Blog-a-thon '08 at writefromkaren.com

Prompt Fiction

Fiction: Tell the Truth

Thursday Thread
Thursday is the day I post a bit o’ fiction.

This was written in response to the Three Word Wednesday challenge. This week’s words: Avoid, Class, Sticky.

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Tell the Truth

Marta took a deep breath and stared at the screen. The bluish light from the monitor bounced off her pale skin, the worry lines around her eyes and the grooves in her forehead looked like someone had traced them with a fine-point pen – the marks looked like gruesome slashes in the dim glow.

So I went to ‘Blogger’s Unite’ this past weekend and I can honestly say I had the time of my life.

Marta frowned and continued typing.

Everyone was so nice and I can honestly say, I didn’t feel intimidated in the least.

“You’re such a liar, Marta,” a female voice sounded behind her.

Marta stiffened, but she kept her eyes trained on the computer monitor. “What are you talking about?”

Marta could feel her sister leaning over her shoulder, her warm breath, which smelled faintly of eggs, brushed against her skin.

“You told me that the conference sucked. Royally.”

Marta shrugged. “It did.”

“So why are you blogging that it didn’t?”

Marta leaned back in her computer chair and lifted her arms for a deep stretch. “Because I’ve got sponsors that expect me to gush and be all … girly about what a great time I had.”

“But it’s not true.”

“Well, not entirely.”

“Your readers will see through you.”

Marta glanced up at her sister and bit her lip. She had earned the reputation for being a pretty straight-forward sort of blogger. Granted she wasn’t as popular as the “big kids” on the cyber block but she had a pretty decent following. Though she didn’t deliberately go out of her way to be offensive, she knew that most of her thoughts and opinions were often times considered brusque and yes, even cruel at times. She hated lying to her readers, but she wasn’t sure she could be completely honest – not this time. She hated the conference from the first moment she walked in and could see nothing but lacquered hair everywhere she looked, though to be fair, there were a few moments, maybe two out of 1,000, that didn’t suck too bad.

“They aren’t going to know,” Marta insisted. She laced her fingers together and proceeded to pop them one-by-one.

“What, are you kidding me?” Calla pointed to the computer screen, her tone of voice dripping disgust. “That sounds like something a suburban soccer mom would write.” She pantomimed a huge yawn. “Boring and predictable. In other words, not you. Oh, let me guess,” she held up a hand, “next you’ll be posting pictures of all of the bloggers you meant over the weekend and talk about what beautiful, nice people they were, blahblahblah … give me a break.”

Marta arched a brow. “I didn’t take any pictures, actually, and aren’t you a bitch today.”

Calla plopped down onto a bean bag chair next to Marta’s desk and leaned her back on the overstuffed fabric. “Have you forgotten how depressed you were when you got back? Have you forgotten the number of times these so-called ‘friends’ of yours openly snubbed you?” Calla shook her head. “All I know is this, if I had gone there with you, and I’m wishing now that I had, I would have kicked some major ass.”

Marta didn’t doubt her sister. She rubbed her eyes, suddenly tired of the whole subject. “I may have exaggerated a tiny bit.”

“Marta,” Calla said softly, waiting until she turned her head to look at her. “I saw your face. I heard your voice. You did not have a good time. It was like that damn sorority disaster all over again.”

“Okay fine, the conference sucked. But I have to say, a lot of what happened was my own fault.” Marta said, her voice dipping into a whisper. “I should have known I wouldn’t fit in. I’ve never been very good at approaching people, or making that annoying small talk that no one cares about or ever remembers. In fact, if I had known the conference was going to focus more on finding the biggest, or most popular parties, dancing in the aisles of a major department store and making a fool out of yourself, consuming mass quantities of alcohol or kissing my fellow bloggers all for shock value, then I wouldn’t have gone.” She ran a hand through her short, spiky hair, her movements jerky, her features twisted into exasperation. “It was like a damn Girls’ Gone Wild video. I mean, come on, grown women? I can understand getting together and having fun, even going a little nuts, but come ON! The way some of those people acted … I was embarrassed for them. And I wasn’t even that impressed with the sessions, quite frankly. I thought they were lukewarm and slapped together in a hurry – like they were a cover-up, or an excuse, to throw a huge party, really.”

“There,” Calla lifted a hand, “that’s what I’m talking about. Talk about that.”

“But no one wants to hear anything negative, or even honest. It’s all about being the most popular.”

“Who says? You?” Calla snorted. “I bet there were a lot more women there for the same reasons as you – yes, to meet other bloggers, but to learn more about the craft, or their business, as in your case. To learn how to entice sponsors and how to write compelling entries that would leave a lasting impression on readers. I’m sure the majority of bloggers who went to this thing weren’t all that interested in how many mojitos they could drink.”

“It’s … sticky. I don’t want to alienate myself more than I already have. I’d like to be a blogger with SOME class.”

Calla twisted out of the bean bag chair, lifted up to her knees and took the mouse from Marta’s hand. “Since when did you start avoiding confrontation?”

“Since I learned that sponsors weren’t all that interested in what I had to say, as opposed to how many RSS readers I had.”

Calla’s eyes narrowed on the computer screen and Marta watched to see what she was doing. “Okay, look at those stats,” Calla said while sitting back on her heels. “Those are pretty good, Marta. Contrary to what you may think.”

Marta shrugged.

Calla placed a hand on her sister’s knee. “I’ll lose respect for you if you change. I’m betting a lot of your readers lose respect, too. Is that really what you want? To write about what everyone else is writing about and not staying true to yourself?”

“If I write about my experiences, they won’t be flattering.”

Calla continued to look at her.

“They won’t be all goody-goody and nice.”

Calla arched a brow. “But they’ll be honest.” She said after long moments.

Marta shrugged and stared at her hands for several minutes. She finally nodded her agreement. She swiveled around in her chair, placed her fingers on her keyboard and with a deep sigh, began to type.

So I went to ‘Blogger’s Unite’ this past weekend and I can honestly say, that will be the last time I attend this conference. It was a waste of my time, money, and here’s why …

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Here’s another writing prompt idea:
Fiction Friday
Don’t let the name fool you – it’s a writing exercise you can use any way you wish – everyone is welcome to participate.

Prompt Fiction

Fiction: Change of Plans

Thursday Thread
Thursday is the day I post a bit o’ fiction.

This was originally published May 16, 2007

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Change of Plans

Sherry placed the pads of her fingers just under both her eyes and rubbed gently. “If I don’t see another box in my lifetime I’ll be happy.” She chuckled and laughed up at her husband. “So, are you packed?”

Mike smiled and looped an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s take a break, shall we?”

“Ugh, sounds good to me,” She leaned her cheek into her husband’s strong arm and allowed him to guide her toward the living room. “Can you believe the time has finally arrived? I mean, who would have thought that we would be moving to New York City?” She sighed happily and thought about the editing job waiting for her in the Big Apple. She still couldn’t believe she had landed her dream job.

“Yeah, that’s pretty remarkable,” Mike said next to her. She smiled against him, soaking in the deep timbre of his voice as it vibrated against her face. “You certainly deserve it. You’ve worked hard enough for it.” He eased down onto the couch, pulling her down beside him.

They settled more comfortably into the deep cushions, placed their feet on the oak coffee table before them and gazed into the fire. “Mmm, this is cozy,” she said.

Long moments went by, each of them hypnotized by the flame’s seductive dance and deep into their own thoughts. A log cracked and the pop caused them both to jump out of their reverie.

Sherry chuckled in response. She wasn’t sure why but she suddenly felt shy and a bit on edge.

“Are you nervous?”

“Not really,” she replied. “I mean, I’ve basically been doing this type of job for the past six years so I know I can do it it’s just …” She twisted around to get a better look at him. “It’ll be hard to leave, ya know? Our families are here. Our friends…”

Mike nodded and continued to stare into the fire.

“But,” she swallowed, “we’ll make new friends. It’s just going to be …” she paused to inhale one long shaky breath before exhaling one lone gusty word, “great.”

Mike patted her shoulder before removing his arm from around her. His wedding ring nabbed a few strands of her hair and she felt her scalp jump in protest. “Ow.” She reached back to rub her head.

“Sorry.”

She waved his concern aside and settled herself more comfortably against his side. “I lied,” she began. “I am nervous. It’s all this anticipation. I mean, what if I get up there and totally bomb this? What if I’m not good enough? A lot of people are taking a chance on me, I can’t let them down.”

“You won’t.”

She sighed in contentment. “I love you, you know.”

“I know.”

A crack of thunder sounded in the distance and a sudden gust of wind rattled the windowpanes. Sherry struggled to sit up. “We better load the car before it starts raining.”

She stood up and tugged on her pants legs. She looked toward the door. “Where’s your luggage? I thought you brought it down already.”

Mike heaved a long, slow sigh and also rose from the couch. He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the floor.

Sherry shot him a quizzical look before walking over to her luggage stacked neatly by the door. Mike’s black matching set of luggage was definitely not there. She glanced through the half-circle of windows in the front door in time to see a nasty streak of lightening slash it’s way through the sky. She mentally counted to herself …

One one-thousand … two one-thousand … three one-thousand … four one-thousand … five one-thousand …

A deep rumble rolled through the house causing the crystal clock on the foyer table to tremble.

“It sounds like it’s about five miles out. We better hurry.” She reached down and grabbed a suitcase in each hand. Mike still hadn’t moved and continued to stand in the same exact spot.

“Mike,” she said sharply. Enough was enough. She was sad to leave too, but it was time to go. Their flight was scheduled to take off in just under three hours. “Earth to Mike, hello?” She tried to keep her tone of voice even but she was rapidly losing patience. “Mike come on, get your stuff and let’s go.”

Her husband continued to stand there, only now he had turned to stare into the fire. His shoulders were slumped and his head was hanging so low it was hard to see his face.

“Mike?” She struggled to lift the heavy cases and volleyed the extra weight on the balls of her feet. “Mike, seriously, let’s go. If we leave now, we can beat the storm.”

He finally turned around to face her. His face was hard and his mouth was set into a grim line.

“Mike?” She gritted her teeth. She hated that look. She always had.

“I’m not going.”

Prompt Fiction

Fiction: How to Lose a Man

“That has got to be the stupidest title for a seminar I’ve ever heard.”

Ellie and Gina continued to stare each other down. The other customers in the coffee shop began to look in their direction.

“Can you say that a little louder, please? I don’t think the hicks in the next county heard you.”

Gina broke off the stare-a-thon first. She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. “Seriously Ellie, who’s going to pay to hear you talk about how to lose their man? Don’t we have enough trouble keeping our men nowadays as it is without having to hear tips on how to get divorced faster?”

Ellie ran a hand over suddenly tired eyes. “You’re not listening, Gina. It’s not about losing your man, it’s about keeping your man.”

“Then why the crazy title?”

“To get people’s attention.”

Gina shrugged, uncrossed her arms and reached for her double-shot espresso. “I think it’s counterproductive.”

“And I appreciate your candor,” Ellie said, though the tone of her voice indicated otherwise. “But my sponsors love the idea and since they’re the ones who give me a paycheck every month …”

“Right. I understand having to go where the money talks ALL too well, thank you very much.” Gina said with a grimace. “I still don’t know how you do this though, given what happened.”

Ellie sighed and ran a finger lightly over the crust of her moist, blueberry muffin. “It actually helps.”

“How can giving out advice about relationships help you get over the fact that Jerry was an asshole?”

“It just re-establishes what I did wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, girlfriend,” Gina said with a snort. “The man had one foot out the door your entire marriage.”

Ellie reached up and tucked a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear. Her gaze landed on the pimply-faced barista behind the counter. The girl looked tired and tense. She also looked a bit sad as she worked alongside the bubbly blonde cheerleader-type girl next to her. She could relate to the tired girl. She knew exactly what it was like to be overshadowed and often times, overlooked, when next to more attractive people.

Ellie’s eyes shifted back on her friend and she heaved a heavy sigh. “I won’t dispute that. I think Jerry was just a restless soul to begin with. He didn’t know what he wanted, let alone what he wanted out of our marriage. But,” she held up a finger as Gina opened her mouth to interrupt her. “I did contribute to the problems.”

“Oh?” Gina cocked her head and looked dubious. “How so?”

“Come to the seminar and find out,” Ellie said with a melancholy smile.

Gina rolled her eyes. “You know I have that conference in Tallahassee that week. I can’t come. Just give me the highlights.”

Ellie sucked her bottom lip in between her teeth and looked uncertain. “It’s not exactly finished. It needs work.”

“All the more reason to try it out on me,” Gina insisted.

Ellie stared at her for long seconds before nodding. “Fine. All right.” She cleared her throat and reached into her over-sized handbag. She cracked her eyeglass case open and reached in for her spectacles.

“Since when do you wear glasses?” Gina asked in surprise.

“Since I can’t see two feet in front of me,” Ellie growled and pulled out a steno pad. She flipped to the correct page before clearing her throat once again.

“How to lose your man,” she began in an authoritative voice.

Gina settled into her seat and crossed her long, thin legs. “This outta be good.”

“I warn you,” Ellie said over her glasses, “it needs work.”

Gina waved a hand to indicate she should continue.

Number One,” Ellie paused. A small amount of red stained her upper cheeks. “Stop taking care of yourself or,” she paused, “in laymen’s terms, get fat.”

“What?” Gina sputtered.

“Well look at me,” Ellie said with a grand sweep over her plump figure. “I’ve gained about 30 pounds since marrying Jerry — ”

“What does that have anything to do with anything? You look great. And you’re not fat for the like the gazillionth time.”

Ellie gave her a sad smile before shaking her head. “I’m not attractive anymore, Gina. I let myself go.”

“Is that what that SOB told you?”

“No, it’s what my mirror tells me.” She lifted a hand to stop her friend’s tirade. “Think of it this way,” she paused and whet her lips, “you married a really good looking guy. You found him attractive, the sex was good and then … you woke up one morning and noticed he had a beer gut. And he didn’t shave as often, or maybe he didn’t wear as much deodorant as he needed to. Would you still be attracted to him?”

“You should love each other no matter what,” Gina insisted in stubborn tones.

“True. But being attracted to one another is a component of love. And if you don’t have enough respect to take care of yourself, how can your partner have enough respect for you? Just because you’re married doesn’t mean you can suddenly stop caring about how you present yourself to him or the rest of the world.”

“I still think that’s a cop-out excuse to end a marriage.”

“I didn’t say it would end your marriage, it’s just one of the steps that leads to that conclusion,” Ellie said.

Gina studied her friend for several seconds, “Jerry didn’t leave you because you’ve put on a few pounds, Ell.”

“Actually, he did.”

Gina blinked.

“He told me,” Ellie said. “But,” she continued, “I can understand where he’s coming from.”

“You shouldn’t have to change yourself for anyone.”

“That’s right. I agree. You shouldn’t change yourself — for better OR worse for anyone.”

Gina gave her a hard stare before saying, “We’re never going to agree on this point. Let’s skip this and move on.”

“Fine,” Ellie’s eyes went back to her notes. “Number Two, nag him. Men have a fantastic ability to completely shut us out in the best of times. Start nagging him and he’s sure to shut you out.”

“Well, I can certainly understand that one. My boss nags me all the time and I want to throttle the man.”

“Imagine living with someone who thought everything you did was sub-standard or simply not good enough. How do you think that affects your self-esteem after a while?”

“Not to mention how utterly annoying,” Gina shot back. “What’s number three?”

Ellie consulted her notes. “Number three, belittle him.”

“How is that different than nagging?”

“Nagging is always reminding him he needs to do something, or not do something. Belittling is when you make that person feel like dirt as a person. Men have huge egos, belittling them, or emasculating them, makes thim think less and less of you. Who wants to be around someone who makes them feel bad, or not good enough all the time?”

“Oh come on, you didn’t do that.”

Ellie sighed. “Didn’t I? I used to joke all the time how Jerry couldn’t cook a meal to save his life. Or how I was so thankful for Triple A because if I had to rely on Jerry to fix my car, I’d still be stuck in Iowa.”

“But you were kidding. It was funny..”

“He wasn’t laughing,” Ellie said, her facial features set into a humorless mask. “Number four,” she continued, her eyes still on Gina, “become his mother.”

Gina burst out laughing. “Now that’s just plain sick.”

Ellie allowed a small grin before continuing. “It sounds like that, but you’d be surprised by the number of women who are at their husband’s beck and call whenever he’s in dire need of guidance. While it’s great to make sure he has a good home-cooked meal or clean socks, it can get a little overbearing when it’s starting to look like he married his mother and not the woman he fell in love with. Women need to show their men they have their own talents and that they’re the sexy women they married in the first place.

Number five,” Ellie continued and rubbed her nose. “don’t trust him. Unless he’s given you a reason NOT to trust him, then chill the hell out. To learn how to trust is to learn how to take attention off of him and focus it on yourself. Do what makes you happy and before you know it, unless he gives you reasons to feel otherwise, everything will fall into place.”

“That’s easier said than done,” Gina said with a confident nod of her head.

Ellie reached across and gave Gina’s hand a reassuring pat. “You had every reason to distrust Walt, Gina.”

Her friend shrugged and stared off into the distance.

Number six,” Ellie continued, “Stay silent.”

Gina’s eyes shifted back. “What do you mean?”

“If you can’t say what’s on your mind without your man going off the deep end, something is definitely wrong. Repressing your thoughts and opinions is stifling your self-growth and before long, you’re resenting the fact that you CAN’T speak your mind. It feels like he’s controlling you because you can’t be yourself around him.”

“I agree with that to a certain extent.”

“How so?” Ellie asked and took a sip of her latte.

Continue reading “Fiction: How to Lose a Man”