Story-Time Tuesday - Living Fiction

If you missed where this story started just click here to read it or simply click on the Story-Time Tuesday link at the top of my blog to take you to previous chapters.

Living Fiction - Chapter 53

Here's where Chapter 52 left you.

Jay looked a little surprised. And a little uncomfortable.

I continued, “When my husband…died…I…”

“Wait, wait a second. Pearl? Your husband is dead? I thought you were divorced. What happened? Don’t tell me he was in the war, too.”

And while you might think I never, actually shut-up, I sat quietly for a few long moments. It’s true. I didn’t even know how I really wanted to answer. It felt odd, talking to another man who was kinda/sorta holding my hand on a park bench about my … ummm… deceased husband.

“You know what, Jay? Let’s talk about him another time, but he wasn’t killed in the war so at least you don’t have to thank me for my sacrifice.”

“Okay, we’ll talk about this next time, then. Pearl. Maybe…gee..well…next time could be dinner? Yeah. Ummm… could I take you to dinner?”

AND NOW, CHAPTER 53 CONTINUES

Dinner? Like a date? Do you think he meant a date? Or just going to dinner?

I thought for a moment and then astounded myself by nodding my acceptance. Jay smiled in return and we settled on a time he would pick me up on Friday night.

Gosh. That felt like a really big deal. Getting picked up at the house on a Friday night, no less. That was probably a date, right? Jay and I sat in quiet contemplation for a few minutes longer and then Princess and Spedgar let us know they were ready to call it a day.

Both exhausted and happy, there was a lot less barking and running on the short journey back home.

Jay and I walked quietly together,side by side, and I was surprised at how comfortable the quiet was. I didn’t feel the need to talk. It felt like we had all the time in the world to finish our conversation of the afternoon. At one point in the walk our hands bumped together and I felt a little jolt…like electricity, but not.

A jolt of awareness perhaps. Or perhaps a jolt of recognition that my life was changing…and I was ready for it to happen.

We dropped off Princess first. Millie’s husband, Myron, answered the door. I raised my eyebrows at Jay and pantomined a sigh of relief. It was an omen. Nothing was going to distract me from concentrating on this feeling of finally being wide awake, although Millie might have stood a good chance.

Spedgar ran all the way across the yard to my house. We laughed and followed and when Jay stopped outside the kitchen door, I thought for a moment he wanted to kiss me. Instead he said, “So…should I take Spedgar with me or just get him Friday night after we ummm…go out to dinner?”

“Which would be easier for you, Jay?”

“Well… if it’s okay with you I’ll leave him here and take him home on Friday. After. After our …ummm…date. Yeah, I came straight to see you…ummm…I mean Spot…Spedgar… from the airport and I don’t have any groceries or dog food in the house.”

“Okay, that’s great then.” The moment stretched out into ackwardness and finally Jay patted Spedgar and headed toward his car. He turned back once and waved. I was a little embarrassed to be caught watching him go, but I waved gaily in return.

Wow.

Wow, wow, wow.

This whole thing was so weird. I wasn’t really sure what to do with all of my emotions. I kind of felt the need to cry, jump, laugh, clap and cower…all at the same time.

Spedgar, however, was not so confused. He was absolutely, totally and completely certain that he needed fed or he would die of starvation. His jumps and whines proved it. I left my jacket on while I fixed a big bowl of food for him and then I went back outside to sit on the steps.

Darn.

Darn, darn, darn.

It was a date. Or at least Jay thought it was.

Was this the right thing for me to do?

This would be only the second ‘first date’ of my life. I’d dated my husband since I was a young girl and never gone out with anyone else.

Everything was changing. What in the world was happening?

A date with Jay? Jessie dating Griffin? Going to dinner with a guy who wasn’t my husband?

Did I really want to go on a date? And what would that even mean? I’d seen a lot of the magazines at the checkout counter…did ‘dating’ mean ummm…well… sex? Did people do ‘that’ on the first date? I hope Jay didn’t think I was going to. I wondered if he did. I wondered what I would do if he did. I wondered what I would do when that time eventually came…with or without Jay.

Darn.

Darn, darn, darn.

This could get complicated.

This could get messy.

When I was married, everything was clear. And for me, the clarity of black and white was so much easier to deal with than the ambiguities of gray that defined my life after my husband had died.

I leaned back a bit and looked up at the star-studded sky. “Give me a sign,” I said to the universe. “Give me a sign that it’s okay for me to move on.”

Sadly no meteorites streaked across the sky. No shooting stars gave me the answer.

But I guess I didn’t really need them to.

I already knew the answer.

All the things I’d been doing and trying to do…blogging, dealing with my son, buying expensive coffee… had been leading up to right now.

Letting go of my grief didn’t mean that I had forgotten my husband.

It didn’t mean I was throwing away my memories.

Letting go of my grief just meant I was ready to start living again.

Today. Right now. In this moment.

“Man the torpedoes, Pearl. Full speed ahead,” I declared into the crisp autumn evening.

Torpedoes? Me?

That didn’t feel like the right battle cry at all.

I thought for a moment and then stood up. “Darn! Darn, darn, darn! Pearl! No ‘cupcaking’ out girl!”

Yes. That felt better.

I peered across the yard to see Millie’s kitchen lights still on.

I took a deep breath.

If I was going on a date on Friday night I think I needed some wardrobe consultation.

NOT that I was planning to wear anything sparkly, furry, animal printed or neon colored. On second thought, maybe asking Millie for advice wasn’t such a good idea.

I thought again for a moment. “No ‘cupcaking’ out, Pearl. Go knock on that door and ask for help.”

And I did.

(c) 2010 Jennifer R. Matlock
This publication is the exclusive property of Jennifer R. Matlock and is protected
under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws. The contents of this post/story may not be reproduced as a whole or in part, by any means whatsoever, without consent of the author, Jennifer R. Matlock. All rights reserved.

Story-Time Tuesday - Living Fiction

If you missed where this story started just click here to read it or simply click on the Story-Time Tuesday link at the top of my blog to take you to previous chapters.

Living Fiction - Chapter 52

Here's where Chapter 51 left you.

Jessie opened the door and Princess waltzed in. Edgar practically swooned. Griffin and Jessie looked at each other…all googly eyed and ran out the door.

Millie strolled calmly into the kitchen. She took one look at my new, improved, make-up and clothes. Her hand raised dramatically to her forehead. It’s a wonder she didn’t gouge her eye out with her long, bright orange fingernails. I wondered briefly when she had time to change the polish color. I wondered briefly if she had actually changed the polish color so it would match her day-glo orange, skin-tight track-suit edged in zebra fur.

And seriously, did you know that athletic shoes actually come in cheetah print with glittery pink laces?

“Pearl,” she said dramatically, “Don’t blame me when your ‘boyfriend’turns right around and leaves when he sees you looking all frumpty-dumpty.”

“Frumpty, dumpty? Millie. I think I look great…and if I’d wanted to walk around looking like you I would have…boyfriend? What do you mean boyfriend?”

“You know? Boyfriend. That guy that you’re babysitting adorable little Edgar for. That boyfriend. The one who was sitting on your front steps for about an hour waiting for you!”

And now, Chapter 52 Continues.

Stuttering in surprise, I puzzled, “Waiting on my steps? For an hour? You mean Jay?”

Millie looked at me intently, “Ummm…yes…Pearl…that…guy…was…”

“Knock if off, Millie! I’m not a moron! I can understand English, you know? What is with you anyway? You barge in here and act like…”

Fate had an uncanny way of protecting Millie from my wrath, because right when I was possibly verging on saying too much, I saw Jay framed in the glass of the door.

Waving his hand in a tentative greeting, he reminded me of a little boy…

…and in a moment of clarity do you know what I realized? Jay was kind of cute.

Millie raised one eyebrow at me and I noticed for the first time ever that Millie didn’t really have any eyebrows. At all. She had just drawn a frown in black brow pencil over each eye. The weirdness of it kind of mesmerized me.

I was momentarily torn between asking Millie if something had happened to her eyebrows (Bonfire? Tweezers run amuk? Fright?) and answering the door.

When Jay tapped lightly on the glass, though, answering the door won the debate.

I sucked in my stomach, put a welcoming look on my face, and gracefully opened the door.

“Hey…um…hi! I would’ve called first but I sort of lost your number,” Jay said in a subdued and slightly embarrassed tone. I noticed right away that his face and voice were much more relaxed then the last time I had seen him.

A millisecond later Edgar…ummm…I mean Spot…came skidding around the corner following by a yapping Princess.

Jay dropped down on one jeans-clad knee just as the wiry little dog catapulted himself across the last three feet of my no-wax vinyl flooring.

“Oh man, Spot! Oh, buddy! I missed you, bud. Have you been a good boy? A good boy? And who’s this pretty little gal?” I thought for a moment he was talking about me, but I quickly realized my mistake when he held out a welcoming hand to Princess who quickly became enamored of Jay’s talented scratching fingers.

“Well, I’ll be!” Millie exclaimed, “Princess is usually so, so, so afraid of men and, oh my goodness, just look at her now, will you? Well, I declare, Mr. Jay, you certainly seem to have a way with the females.”

Millie wiggled her drawn-on eyebrows at me and lowered one set of black widow spider mascaraed eyelashes in an innuendo filled wink.

Jay and the dogs continued their mutal admiration love-fest for a few more minutes. Finally he straightened up and looked at me, “Pearl…so…yeah…thanks for watching Spot. Thanks a lot.” Then he fidgetted awkwardly from foot to foot.

Millie took the awkward silence into her own bossy hands. “Obviously you two have some catching up to do…soooo…here!”

She thrust Edgar’s leash into my hands, dug through her voluminous canary yellow patent leather purse (obviously her style sense was vastly superior to mine…I would personally have never paired that bag with a day-glo orange, skin-tight track-suit edged in zebra fur) until she finally located a rhinestone encrusted hot-pink dog leash. Jay looked slightly surprised when it ended up in his hands. I wasn’t surprised at all. Did I ever tell you how pushy Millie actually is?

Well, she certainly pushed us right out the kitchen door. “You two kids go for a walk. Just drop Princess off at my house when you’re done. She will so, so, so enjoy having some more time with her sweet little princey-poo Edgar.”

Princey-poo?

Seriously?

Jay and I stood on the little porch and watched her as she gaily blew us a kiss and closed the door in our faces.

We had only walked about three steps before the door flew open again. “Wait!” Millie commanded. She ran down the steps and handed me several of my dog poo pick-up bags decorated in paw prints. “Pearl! These bags are so, so adorable! You’ll have to tell me where you found them! Now…shoo! Take these good little puppies for a walk!”

A moment later the door slammed shut again.

Millie blew me a second kiss right before she turned away from the window.

Holy cow. That woman is just totally out of control.

I debated whether it was worth trying to talk my way into my own home. I decided it would take a little too much effort and, after all, the weather was nicely brisk for dog walking.

I took a few steps and realized Jay wasn’t walking with me. I turned back to see his puzzled face. He raised an eyebrow. “Ummm…Pearl? Isn’t that where you live? And who was that anyway? She was very…well, gosh…colorful.”

I sighed.

“You’re right, Jay. That is my house and that’s my neighbor, Millie. Colorful is a bit of an understatement. I’m sorry I didn’t even introduce you to her. I gather you figured out that this is her dog Princess. Princess and Edgar…ummm… Spot…ummm… Spedgar are pretty good friends now. Millie thinks they’re in love. Millie is kind of an idiot.”

“Spedgar?” Jay stopped walking and turned toward me. “Spedgar! Pearl! That’s really a funny name…I like it! If Spot has no objections I think we should definitely change his name to Spedgar!”

“Spedgar!” he said loudly.

And Edgar stopped.

He tilted his wiry little golden head.

“Spedgar!” I repeated.

And Spedgar barked happily.

“Spedgar it is!” Jay said cheerfully, and we continued on our merry way.

The dogs pulled this way and that way, sniffing and barking and barking and sniffing.

We finally arrived at a little dog park, and let them off their leashes so they could add running around to their barking and sniffing routine.

We sat on a little park bench. We weren’t sitting right next to each other, but I could tell we were sitting together.

It felt…odd.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had sat on a park bench with a man.

But the sun was golden and lovely and touched my face with warmth. I felt comfortable. Something inside of Jay had changed, or maybe I had changed. Jay was almost starting to feel like a friend.

Or something.

“So,” I hesitated, “How was your time away? It looked like it did you some good. You look a lot more relaxed.”

“It was tough at first. I just kept thinking about everything and getting madder. I mean, Pearl, all those people around town THANKING me for my sacrifice. Geez. They acted like I was the hero. I wasn’t the hero, at all, ever. It was always my son. Do you think I would have willingly sacrificed my son’s life even for my country? Hell, no. I might have sacrificed mine, but I wouldn’t have given up my son for anything. If it would have saved him, I would have moved to Canada. Or New Zealand. Or some island without a fucki...freakin' name. I wasn’t a hero. I wasn’t noble and wonderful and proud of my son for dying for his country. Are you freakin’ kidding me? I would have done anything for him not to have died.”

I surprised myself and reached out and covered Jay’s hand with mine. His hand was so warm. And it was much larger than my husband’s had been.

“And every stupid year all these stupid people come up to me and say the same ridiculous stupid thing…’thank you for your sacrifice’, ‘oh, God bless you Jay’. Yeah. Right. God blessed me, didn’t he? He totally blessed me. He took my son. He took my marriage. He took my life. Yeah. That was a blessing, right?”

He turned his hand over and squeezed mine, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t even say this stuff out loud. Especially to you.”

“Why not?” I asked him. “Sometimes you have to talk to somebody. And I’m a good somebody to tell stuff to. I think I understand part of what you’re saying…about God anyway.”

Jay looked a little surprised. And a little uncomfortable.

I continued, “When my husband…died…I…”

“Wait, wait a second. Pearl? Your husband is dead? I thought you were divorced. What happened? Don’t tell me he was in the war, too.”

And while you might think I never, actually shut-up, I sat quietly for a few long moments. It’s true. I didn’t even know how I really wanted to answer. It felt odd, talking to another man who was kinda/sorta holding my hand on a park bench about my … ummm… deceased husband.

“You know what, Jay? Let’s talk about him another time, but he wasn’t killed in the war so at least you don’t have to thank me for my sacrifice.”

“Okay, we’ll talk about this next time, then. Pearl. Maybe…gee..well…next time could be dinner? Yeah. Ummm… could I take you to dinner?”

To be continued on Tuesday, September 27.

(c) 2010 Jennifer R. Matlock
This publication is the exclusive property of Jennifer R. Matlock and is protected
under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws. The contents of this post/story may not be reproduced as a whole or in part, by any means whatsoever, without consent of the author, Jennifer R. Matlock. All rights reserved.

Story-Time Tuesday - Living Fiction

If you missed where this story started just click here to read it or simply click on the Story-Time Tuesday link at the top of my blog to take you to previous chapters.

Living Fiction - Chapter 51

Here's where Chapter 50 left you.

I returned quickly to my thoughts. Maybe the sayings quit working for me because I wasn’t really using them for me. I think I was always saying the words in my heart as a prayer for my son. The words were never for me.

Maybe for today I would try applying them to myself. I straightened my shoulders, “Okay, Pearl. One day at a time…one day at a time…”

I walked to Millie’s repeating the words over and over again in my head.

She wasn’t home. Edgar seemed depressed. I wasn’t.

I left the make-up on the welcome mat where Millie would be certain to see it.

On the short walk home, Edgar lagged behind. “C’mon, Edgar, one day at a time! We’ll try and see Princess tomorrow!”

I think my pep talk cheered him up. Or maybe he just perked up when we got into the kitchen and he saw Jessie and Griffin seated at the table looking at my blog!

And now, Chapter 51 Continues.

“Hey!” I said a little too loudly, causing them both to jump a bit. “Wow, I’m excited! You’re already looking at my blog!”

But they weren’t.

That probably explained Griffin’s shy and slightly guilty smile.

Instead of my cute sky and grass background, they were looking at movie schedules. Movie schedules? That had absolutely nothing to do with my blog. Grrrrr.

Jessie looked up with an odd look on her face, “Well…Mom, we are going to look at your blog and then we’re going to the movies?”

“We are?” I inquired.

“No…we are, you … aren’t…unless … I mean, well, you really want to go to the movies. With us. You don’t, right Mom? I mean you don’t want to go with us. Right? You have lots and lots of stuff to do Mom, right?”

Gosh. I thought my daughter was a bit more subtle than that.

“Oh, Jessie. I’d loooove to go with you to the movies…but I have all kinds of stuff to do. Lots and lots of stuff. You understand, right?”

Jessie rolled her eyes at me and gave me the death glare.

There is no pleasing daughter’s somedays, you know?

In an effort to salvage an uncomfortable situation, Griffin cleared his throat and said, “Pearl, of course you can come to the movies with us if you want.” He gave Jessie ‘that look’. I let him off the hook. “That’s nice, Griffin, but seriously…I have lots and lots of stuff to do…you understand, right?”

Jessie rolled her eyes again.

Whatever.

Quickly they finished up their movie discussion and then Griffin asked for my blog name. He looked started for a moment when I told him, ‘Mylifeinsideanoyster’. When his eyes glazed over halfway through my explanation of how I had chosen the name, I think he finally understood.

He looked around on my blog, and finally turned to me, “You don’t have much content here, Pearl. And I kinda don’t actually understand what your blog is about.”

“You don’t?” I was puzzled.

“I don’t. You say you’ve been doing the same things for a long time and you’re ready to ‘shake up your life’. I’m not sure if that’s really a ‘theme’, Pearl…you know?”

“It isn’t?”

“No, not really. So what are you going to write about? What do you want to learn about? What do you know the most about? What do you want people to know about you?”

“Well, geez, Griffin. I already said all that.”

“Actually, Pearl, you didn’t. Okay, think about what happens when you meet somebody new. Like Jay, for example. What did you and Jay talk about?”

Holy moly. I just realized that Griffin thought that Jay and I were like…ummm…you know…a couple or something.

“Griffin, Jay and I aren’t like…ummm…well…you know…”

“Like what? Pearl, I’m having a hard time understanding what you’re trying to tell me here. Okay, it’s like this. When you and I talked at the coffee shop I told you about school and you told me about starting a blog..and, oh yeah…now I remember…you told me you were going to do a stream of consciousness blog. I’m not seeing any streaming here. And I’m certainly not seeing any consciousness stuff.”

“Okay, Griffin. Tell me what that means exactly. What am I supposed to do…EXACTLY?”

“I can’t tell you EXACTLY ‘cuz it’s not my blog. But like…ummm…okay…what did you do today before you came to the coffee shop?”

I launched into the story of my makeover with Millie and how I had ended up squeezing into too tight clothes and could hardly recognize myself and…blah, blah, blah.

Griffin started laughing halfway through the story.

“That! Pearl, write about that stuff! You’re actually really funny. Just write what you told me and do that whenever you want to post…but…”

“But what?” I said.

“But…here’s the problem with those kind of blogs, Pearl. You don’t have anything specific…I mean some blogs do a lot of recipes or crafts or all that stuff women do…you know…making cards and … ummm… sewing things with little squares…so if you like to do that stuff you can actually google ‘blogs about crafting’ and then you can find other blogs like yours. Then when you visit them and they visit you back, it’s like visiting with people that you have a lot in common with. Right?”

“I kind of see what you mean…but…”

Griffin continued, “And then you can learn more about what you like to do and you can show off the things you do and then everyone is all happy and it’s like a little on-line club!”

Jessie jumped up. “Okay, Griffin. I think she’s got it. That was a great explanation. Mom? All set? I think we’re gonna run to the movies now and…”

“Wait! No! I’m not all set. I don’t actually ‘do’ anything, Griffin. I mean I am an okay cook and I’ve dabbled a little bit with crafty stuff but I’m not a card maker or a quilter and…”

Griffin glanced at the wall clock again, anxious to join an impatient Jessie. I wasn’t going to let him off the hook. This was supposed to be about my blog…not about seeing a movie with my daughter.

“Pearl, think for a second. What do you know the most about?”

I thought. And I thought. And in a small voice I said, “Loss. Grief. Being lost.”

Jessie stopped fidgeting by the door and Griffin looked at me very intently.

“Pearrrrlll…geez…here’s the thing. You CAN write about that stuff, but you can’t write about it all the time. You have to mix it up. Otherwise it’ll just be too depressing.”

“Well, geez, Griffin. Thanks a lot. This isn’t helping me at all. I need you to tell me what to blog about. I need you to help me with this and not just brush me off because you want to go to the movies with my daughter!”

Griffin looked very uncomfortable. I seemed to be developing a knack of doing that to people. He cleared his throat. Jessie looked pointedly at the clock. I wasn’t going to back down. This was supposed to be about my blog.

I waited.

I think I waited a little too long, though, because just then Millie knocked on the kitchen door and Edgar went crazy.

Oh for heavens sake.

Jessie opened the door and Princess waltzed in. Edgar practically swooned. Griffin and Jessie looked at each other…all googly eyed and ran out the door.

Millie strolled calmly into the kitchen. She took one look at my new, improved, make-up and clothes. Her hand raised dramatically to her forehead. It’s a wonder she didn’t gouge her eye out with her long, bright orange fingernails. I wondered briefly when she had time to change the polish color. I wondered briefly if she had actually changed the polish color so it would match her day-glo orange, skin-tight track-suit edged in zebra fur.

And seriously, did you know that athletic shoes actually come in cheetah print with glittery pink laces?

“Pearl,” she said dramatically, “Don’t blame me when your ‘boyfriend’turns right around and leaves when he sees you looking all frumpty-dumpty.”

“Frumpty, dumpty? Millie. I think I look great…and if I’d wanted to walk around looking like you I would have…boyfriend? What do you mean boyfriend?”

“You know? Boyfriend. That guy that you’re babysitting adorable little Edgar for. That boyfriend. The one who was sitting on your front steps for about an hour waiting for you!”

To be continued on Tuesday, September 20.

(c) 2010 Jennifer R. Matlock
This publication is the exclusive property of Jennifer R. Matlock and is protected
under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws. The contents of this post/story may not be reproduced as a whole or in part, by any means whatsoever, without consent of the author, Jennifer R. Matlock. All rights reserved.

Story-Time Tuesday - Living Fiction

If you missed where this story started just click here to read it or simply click on the Story-Time Tuesday link at the top of my blog to take you to previous chapters.

Living Fiction - Chapter 50

Here's where Chapter 49 left you.

Griffin laughed again. I was starting to dislike him a little bit. Nobody should be quite that happy. “Pearl, listen. When I bring your daughter home I’ll take a look at what you’ve got going on and see if I can help. Okay?”

“Okay?” I blurted, “That’s more than okay. That would be great!”

My voice might have gotten a bit loud in my enthusiasm because Jessie looked a little embarrassed.

I didn’t care! Griffin was going to help me with my blog.

The jingle of the bell made me smile as I almost skipped to my car.

As I glanced at the happy face in the rearview mirror, I almost didn’t recognize myself. It had been a long time since I’d seen a reflection with a happy smile.

And now, Chapter 50 Continues.

Grinning all the way home, I unlocked the door and ran inside to tell Edgar the happy news.

Edgar had some news of his own to share with me…and none of it was happy.

First of all, Edgar very clearly let me know that I had left him inside too long. The puddle of yellow in the middle of the kitchen floor spoke very definitely of his unhappiness.

The shredded couch pillows also gave testament to the fact that Edgar was NOT happy with my dog-sitting skills.

Throwing a wad of paper towels onto Edgar’s little ‘accident’, I quickly grabbed his leash and a poo bag and hustled him out the kitchen door. I gave him some privacy and let him do his business, then I rushed him around the block as quickly as I could since I wasn’t sure what time Jessie and Griffin arrive.

When we got back to the house, I picked up the soggy paper towels (can I just say ‘ewwwwww’) and quickly mopped the floor with disinfectant. I vacuumed up the shredded foam from the massacred pillows and then sprayed the whole downstairs with air freshener. Edgar watched me quizzically from the living room doorway.

I realized, belatedly, that I should have chastised him for his transgressions but my half-hearted scolding seemed to go right over his head. I didn’t even feel right scolding him at all, though, because it was really my fault both things had happened.

Patting his head, I apologized and told him I would do better! He wagged his tail and looked happy I understood the situation so clearly.

I debated with myself about putting a pot of coffee on. It seemed like the last thing Griffin would want is some of my badly made coffee so I put some cider on the stove to warm and added some spices and the rind of an orange.
I had to think for a moment where I had left my laptop. After I finally found it, I put it on the kitchen table and turned it on. Password? Password? Aha! I remembered. I had written it on the outside of my laptop in silver sharpie!

I typed in the magic word and I was into my blog.

It was so cute. I liked the little happy background of green grass and a bright blue sky. The white dandelions looked really sweet, too. I read what I had written:

At a certain age everyone needs to take inventory of where they are in life. Right now, I have been at the same place doing the same things for way too long. I am ready to shake up my life with new friends, new foods, and new things to do. My name is Pearl, and this is my blog.

I’d also like to shake up my life by getting new comments on my blog. Please leave one for me.

And you’re probably not going to believe this but THERE WERE STILL NO COMMENTS! None. Nada. Nyet. Ummm… zero.

While I was waiting for Jessie and Griffin to arrive, I sat in my spicy, cider-scented kitchen and looked at other blogs. Some of them had comments, but now I realized that some of them didn’t. I ran across some blogs where there were thousands and thousands of comments. The only thing they seemed to have in common is that they were tied to giveaways. One blog in particular, was giving away huge prizes…like kitchenaid mixers and Le Creuset pans. I thought about leaving a comment so I could be entered, too, but I wasn’t sure how good my chances were against 27,362 other entries.

I wondered how those blogs could afford to give away those big prizes. And why did they do that anyway? If I got a brand new kitchenaid mixer, I wouldn’t give it away.

After awhile Edgar wandered out into the kitchen looking bored. “I know, buddy,” I told him, “I don’t know where those two kids are.” Edgar sat down and tilted his head at me. “So, do you want to go for a another walk? We could leave a note?” Edgar tilted his head the other way and looked distinctly unexcited.

Noticing a few errant make-up items Millie had forgotten on the counter, I asked, “Should we take these over to Millie? Maybe you can see Princess for a minute?”

I’m not sure if ‘Millie’ or ‘Princess’ was the magic word, but Edgar jumped up and gave a few happy barks.

I grabbed the leash and my jacket. Edgar jumped around like a crazy dog. He was so cute.

I quickly scrawled a note to Jessie and put it on top of my laptop, and then we headed out the door.

The weather had gotten cooler since I’d been out with Edgar an hour or so ago. The breeze smelled faintly of leaves burning. Autumn had always been my favorite season, but now the fragrance and the low, golden sun made my heart hurt.

This was hard.
It seemed like the only time I felt like me anymore was when I totally immersed myself in a distraction. I would feel hope and possibility fluttering around in my soul and then, BAM!, reality would just slam me in the face, grab me around the throat and shout, “You moron! This is your life now! Quit trying to make it any different!”

Was this ever going to get easier?

I paused for a moment and turned my face toward the glow of the sun. Back in the days when I still thought I could ‘save’ my son, I had immersed myself in his rehabilitation programs and their mantras…’one day at a time’, ‘today is a new yesterday’, ‘God grant me the serenity…’. I had sat through all the meetings but somehow, after awhile, the hope the sayings gave me originally went away.

Edgar whined and tugged at the leash. “Hold on, bud. Just a second.”

I returned quickly to my thoughts. Maybe the sayings quit working for me because I wasn’t really using them for me. I think I was always saying the words in my heart as a prayer for my son. The words were never for me.

Maybe for today I would try applying them to myself. I straightened my shoulders, “Okay, Pearl. One day at a time…one day at a time…”

I walked to Millie’s repeating the words over and over again in my head.

She wasn’t home. Edgar seemed depressed. I wasn’t.

I left the make-up on the welcome mat where Millie would be certain to see it.

On the short walk home, Edgar lagged behind. “C’mon, Edgar, one day at a time! We’ll try and see Princess tomorrow!”

I think my pep talk cheered him up. Or maybe he just perked up when we got into the kitchen and he saw Jessie and Griffin seated at the table looking at my blog!

To be continued on Tuesday, September 13.

(c) 2010 Jennifer R. Matlock
This publication is the exclusive property of Jennifer R. Matlock and is protected
under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws. The contents of this post/story may not be reproduced as a whole or in part, by any means whatsoever, without consent of the author, Jennifer R. Matlock. All rights reserved.

Story-Time Tuesday - Living Fiction

If you missed where this story started just click here to read it or simply click on the Story-Time Tuesday link at the top of my blog to take you to previous chapters.

Living Fiction - Chapter 49

Here's where Chapter 48 left you.

“Bob, I’m fine, thank you. What a good memory you have. This is my daughter, Jessie. Jessie…meet Bob. Bob runs…well, he runs one of the grief support meetings at the Carnegie Library.”

“So listen, Pearl. Let me give you my card. You can give me a call if you want to find out about upcoming meetings, or…well…just call me if you need to talk.”

I thanked him and pocketed the card.

“Jessie, it’s no big deal. I promise I’ll go back to a meeting there soon.”

“It’s not that,” Jessie replied solemnly, “I thought you had lied about the grief meetings, too.”

Obviously the girl DID think I lied about everything.

“Look, can we just get one thing clear here?” I asked her in a firm voice. “I didn’t lie about everything. I already explained that I was trying to protect you. Can we just let this go? Can we just quit with the inquisition and have a conversation?”

“That’s all I ever wanted, Mom. I just want to know how you are. Really. Do you want another coffee?”


And now, Chapter 49 Continues.

You might not be surprised to hear that it took Jessie a mighty long time to get her second coffee. In fact, she didn’t get one. And she didn’t come back to the table either. I glanced over a few times and she and Griffin were deep in a conversation about something that involved a lot of hand waving and giggling.

While my daughter was NOT getting me a coffee, I remembered the ‘things I’d like to do list’ I’d written a while back. I dug through my purse to find it.

I finally discovered it scrunched up underneath a tissue and wedged behind an empty sample bottle of buttercream scented lotion.

I unfolded it, and smoothed it out carefully on the table:

1. Quilt?
2. Write?
3. Take a writing class
4. Volunteer. With kids? Little kids?
5. Research what had happened to Jay.

I looked over my list a few times. Then I dug around in my purse and found a pen so I could scratch out number ‘5’ on the list.

Thinking of Jay made me remember I had left the dog alone in the house. How long can dogs wait to go outside, anyway? I’d only been gone a few hours. Surely Edgar could wait a little longer.

If I knew Jay was going to be gone a long time, I could get someone to come and install a doggie door, but I wasn’t really sure what his plans were.

Hoping Jessie would return to the table soon, I went over the rest of the list thoughtfully.
I crossed out number one. I just didn’t see myself quilting. Maybe I would someday, but right now I suspected it would be just another stress.

Number two still appealed to me. How hard could it be to actually make myself write? I know my blogging had not gotten off to a rousing start, but still…

Maybe I should actually do number three on the list first, though. Do you suppose they have classes aboug blogging? I doodled a note to ask Griffin about it.

Volunteering still seemed like a good thing to do, so I doodled about twelve question marks around that item.

I looked over my little list a few more times and then I crossed out number four. Maybe later I’d find a place to volunteer, but for now I was going to start small.

Jessie and Griffin were still chatting away. I decided that since she was never going to return to the table, I might as well head home.

Before heading up to the counter, I stuffed my list into my purse and then found some cash to leave on the table for a tip. Jessie seemed a little surprised when I tapped her on the shoulder.

“Sorry to interrupt you, sweetie, but I think I need to go home and check on the dog.”

“The dog?”

“Yes, Jess. The dog. Edgar. Remember him? He’s been alone at home for a long time. I don’t want him to be scared or to have an ‘accident’.”

Jessie started to argue with me, “But Mom, we’ve only been here a few…” She stopped talking and looked a little startled when she saw what time it was. “Mom! I didn’t realize! I’m so sorry…I…”

“Jessie,” I said interrupting her again, “It’s fine. Really. Take your time. Call me when you need a ride and I’ll run right back and get you, okay?”

Griffin immediately volunteered that he was off work in an hour and would be happy to give her a ride home.

I was not surprised.

“Sure, Mom, go on, and I’ll just grab a ride.”

As I turned to go I remembered my little doodled reminder. “Griffin? Do you know where I could take a class on blogging?”

The poor guy looked slightly bewildered for a moment. “You mean like how to set up a blog? I thought you had a blog?”

“I do have a blog. I mean more like what to write on it. Can you help me with that?”

Griffin laughed. “Pearl, you can write whatever you want about anything you want. There aren’t any rules. Just write whatever you like.”

Geez, Louise. Does everybody think I’m a moron? “I know that! But I need to know how to write a blog so that someone will want to visit and … you know … leave me a comment.”

Griffin laughed again. I was starting to dislike him a little bit. Nobody should be quite that happy. “Pearl, listen. When I bring your daughter home I’ll take a look at what you’ve got going on and see if I can help. Okay?”

“Okay?” I blurted, “That’s more than okay. That would be great!”

My voice might have gotten a bit loud in my enthusiasm because Jessie looked a little embarrassed.

I didn’t care! Griffin was going to help me with my blog.

The jingle of the bell made me smile as I almost skipped to my car.

As I glanced at the happy face in the rearview mirror, I almost didn’t recognize myself. It had been a long time since I’d seen a reflection with a happy smile.

To be continued on Tuesday, September 6.

(c) 2010 Jennifer R. Matlock
This publication is the exclusive property of Jennifer R. Matlock and is protected
under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws. The contents of this post/story may not be reproduced as a whole or in part, by any means whatsoever, without consent of the author, Jennifer R. Matlock. All rights reserved.

Story-Time Tuesday - Living Fiction

If you missed where this story started just click here to read it or simply click on the Story-Time Tuesday link at the top of my blog to take you to previous chapters.

Living Fiction - Chapter 48

Here's where Chapter 47 left you:

“Mom, seriously. C’mon, let’s go get coffee and celebrate anyway.”

She started to open her car door. I put my hand on her arm and stopped her. “Did you even hear a single word I just said? There is nothing I feel like celebrating right now!”

“Yes, Mom. I heard every, single world you said. But we are going inside. We are going to order coffee and when it comes we’re having a toast.”


She was really starting to irritate me. I don’t think she had listened at all. “Jessie? Why would we have a toast? There is nothing to toast, believe me.”

She looked me straight in the eye.

“Oh yes there is, Mom. For starters, we’re celebrating the first honest conversation we’ve had since I became an adult!”


And now, Chapter 48 Continues.

I sat in the car. I was a grown woman and I certainly wasn’t going to let my daughter boss me around like this. “I’ll teach her,” I thought and reached down to turn my car back on. Drat! I forgot she had taken the keys.

From the corner of my eye, I saw her digging in her purse. She rapped on the window to show me my keys (what a brat!) and then motioned for me to get out of the car.

Fine! Just fine! I’d go into the coffee shop but I wasn’t doing any celebrating…first honest conversation or not. The bell did its irritating merry jingle as I went through the shop door a few steps behind my daughter. It was crowded in the sunny little space. Jessie was already at the counter looking over the menu board. She turned toward me, “Mom? Whatta you want? My treat.”

“Well give me a second and…” I started to say, when all the sudden the guy behind the counter turned around. It was Griffin! And he gave me a big smile! “Pearl? Right? How’ve ya been? What’s going on? How’s your blog going?”

Geez. I was shocked. How had he remembered all that stuff? I must have looked surprised, because he quickly explained, “I never forget a face…and, besides, any friend of Jay’s is a friend of mine! How’s he doin’ anyway? I haven’t seen him in here lately?”

Before I could answer, Griffin motioned to the short line that had formed behind Jessie and me. “Listen, ladies, go ahead and have a seat and I’ll bring your coffees over.”

Jessie just stood there. I pulled her arm. “C’mon Jess, let’s get a seat, it’s getting crowded in here.”

“But Mom? Who was that? He didn’t even take an order from us. How can he bring coffees to our table if we didn’t order?”

“That,” I said, “Is Griffin. He is going to school from something like…ummm… well…media…ummm…Social…ummm…okay, I can’t remember exactly what he’s going to school for. He likes to guess what people like to drink and…”

“Mom?”

Oh my gosh. Was she already back to repeating my name over and over again?

“Just wait a second, okay. You watch. I bet he’ll pick a coffee drink you’ll love!”

“So…Mom. I really thought you had made up the whole thing about coming to the coffee shop and everything.”

I was offended.

Did the girl think I lied about everything?

Thank goodness Griffin approached our little table then with two steaming coffee drinks and a little plate of tiny muffins. Yum. “Pearl, for you I made a caramel pumpkin latte with a little extra spice,” he said with a wink and an exaggerated bow. I really liked Griffin. If he was older and didn’t have all those tattoos and…well…silly me. Just never mind.

Griffin, however, seemed to be flirting with my daughter, “And for this beautiful lady I prepared a cappuccino with an extra shot of expresso AND one packet of sweetener. And for both of you I brought a selection of our mini-muffins…blueberry, pumpkin and lemon poppyseed.”

He laid our check on the table and gave us another wink. “I’d love to stay and chat, but there’s a line…so just give me a whistle if you need anything.”

Without even glancing at my daughter, I said, “Close your mouth, Jessie. Don’t look so surprised. I know a few people around this town. Is that what you usually order?”

Jessie was still staring after Griffin. “Mom, he’s kind of cute, isn’t he? Does he have a girlfriend? How old is he anyway? What do you think of those tat’s?”

I stirred my latte and spooned up a bit of the frothy topping. Delicious! That spicy pumpkin aroma just made my mouth water. I found one of the bite-sized pumpkin muffins to enjoy with it.

“Mom?”

“I heard you, Jess. I was just thinking. He is cute. And I think his tattoos are kind of pretty. He seems really nice and for some reason I don’t think he has a girlfriend…but I could be wrong. Is that your usual coffee drink or not?”

Jessie grinned and nodded.

We sipped and munched and just enjoyed the murmur of the crowded coffee shop. The sun cast a golden glow over the wood tables.

It was nice to sit quietly. It was especially nice to not have to explain myself. I glanced around the coffee shop and noticed a thin, younger man with chaotic brown hair looking back at me. He certainly looked familiar, but I just couldn’t place him.

As I watched him push his chair back and approach our table, I struggled to remember where I had met him before.

“Pearl? Is it Pearl?”

“Well…hi…ummm…gosh, it’s been so long since I’ve … ummm…”

“You don’t remember me, do you?” he asked in a gentle voice. “I’m Bob. We met at the Carnegie Library. You left in a hurry and I never got a moment to talk to you. How are you?”

“Bob, I’m fine, thank you. What a good memory you have. This is my daughter, Jessie. Jessie…meet Bob. Bob runs…well, he runs one of the grief support meetings at the Carnegie Library.”

“So listen, Pearl. Let me give you my card. You can give me a call if you want to find out about upcoming meetings, or…well…just call me if you need to talk.”

I thanked him and pocketed the card.

“Jessie, it’s no big deal. I promise I’ll go back to a meeting there soon.”

“It’s not that,” Jessie replied solemnly, “I thought you had lied about the grief meetings, too.”

Obviously the girl DID think I lied about everything.

“Look, can we just get one thing clear here?” I asked her in a firm voice. “I didn’t lie about everything. I already explained that I was trying to protect you. Can we just let this go? Can we just quit with the inquisition and have a conversation?”

“That’s all I ever wanted, Mom. I just want to know how you are. Really. Do you want another coffee?”

To be continued on Tuesday, August 30.

(c) 2010 Jennifer R. Matlock
This publication is the exclusive property of Jennifer R. Matlock and is protected
under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws. The contents of this post/story may not be reproduced as a whole or in part, by any means whatsoever, without consent of the author, Jennifer R. Matlock. All rights reserved.

Story-Time Tuesday - Living Fiction

Gud murninga.

Iz Pearl.

I hab a bewwy, bewwy bad colda.

Miss Jenny cud nod unnerstanda me so I cud tell you my stowwy.

I'ma nod 'cupcaking outa' hewe, I'm just sick as a dod.

I'll be backa nexth week.

(c) 2010 Jennifer R. Matlock
This publication is the exclusive property of Jennifer R. Matlock and is protected
under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws. The contents of this post/story may not be reproduced as a whole or in part, by any means whatsoever, without consent of the author, Jennifer R. Matlock. All rights reserved.

Story-Time Tuesday - Living Fiction

If you missed where this story started just click here to read it or simply click on the Story-Time Tuesday link at the top of my blog to take you to previous chapters.

Living Fiction - Chapter 47

Here's where Chapter 46 left you:

I must have admired myself for longer than I thought, because the next thing I knew Jessie was knocking on the bathroom door.

“Can I come in?” and without waiting for my reply she opened the door.

“This is crazy, Mom. You look really good. I’m going to get ready and then we’ll go out to celebrate!”

“What are we celebrating, Jessie?”

“We’re celebrating the new you, Mom. And while we’re at it, we’re going to talk about some of the things the old you lied about.”

That girl can really take the wind out of my sails sometimes. Couldn’t she just let me enjoy my moment of glory?

“Okay, fine. Get dressed. Let’s go get some coffee. I know just the place.”

And now, Chapter 47 Continues.

“If we’re going out in public, I’m taking a shower first,” Jessie said, before wandering out of my bedroom.

“Hurry up!” I yelled after her, “I need caffeine BIG TIME!”

The closing of the guest room door was her only response.

I went back into my bathroom to admire my makeover again. Wow, Millie had really done a job on me…I looked pretty good. Okay, I’m just being modest. I looked darned good. So good that Jessie thought we should go out to celebrate the ‘new me’!

Narrowing my eyes at myself in the mirror, I took a harder look at my transformation. I poked at my hair. The reflection in the mirror showed no movement. I shook my head. Yes, indeed, my hair was petrified.

I looked at myself again.

Suddenly I knew what I needed to do.

I quickly slipped out of my clothes. What sweet relief as my fluffiness exploded from the confining garments. Ahhh… I could finally breathe again.

It took only a moment for the water to get warm in the shower, but it took much longer to undo Millie’s handiwork. I’m certain removing all the spray and styling product from the helmet on my head involved at least fourteen shampoos. Finally my fingers could slip through my hair without feeling like they were caught in steel wool. Then I scrubbed and scrubbed at my face until the washcloth was covered in beige, red and black streaks. That washcloth was definitely a goner.

When I wiped the steam away from the mirror I was both surprised and relieved. I was back. Was that a good thing?

I put a little styling mousse in my hair and blew it dry. It looked okay. Better than usual, but not nearly as spectacular as what Millie had done. I applied a little foundation and blush, some eyebrow pencil and mascara. A touch of lip gloss was my final step. I looked at myself again. I looked okay. Better than usual, and that was fine with me. At least I looked like myself.

I slipped on a clean set of underwear. Realizing that the other undergarments did a lot better job tightening and lifting, I dug through my lingerie drawer (Who am I kidding here? Sadly I just have a plain, old underwear drawer!) to find a slightly more comfortable underwire bra and a somewhat larger pair of control top undies. The black set had always been a destination for me…never an actuality.

When I donned the sweat suit I’d been wearing lately, it seemed downright sloppy, so I dug until I found a pair of jeans with that stretchy stuff woven in. Sure, they were snug and I had to leave the top inch of the zipper unzipped, but I’m pretty certain they were more flattering. A loose, bright red sweater covered the gap at the top of the jeans and made my face look brighter.

I was all set.

Just as I started down the stairs, Jessie opened the guest room door, “Mom! MOM? What happened to you? What did you do?!?”

I stopped on the top step and turned around. “I didn’t do anything, Jessie. I actually just ‘undid’ everything…,” and I continued down the stairs.

Still looking shocked, Jessie followed me to the kitchen. “Seriously, Jessie, stop. You look like a goldfish. Close your mouth! Get your coat! Let’s go! Chop, chop!”

“Mom?”

I ignored her and grabbed my keys. “Should we take Edgar out before we leave?” I gestured toward the little fella sound asleep in his dog bed. I think Princess had worn him out. “Oh, never mind, he looks okay, let’s just go!”

“Mom?”

“Jessie, come on! Get your coat! Why are you so surprised? I just did what you told me to do. Let’s go!”

“Mom?”

“Oh for heavens sake, girl. Get in the car. We’ll talk on the way.”

Finally she started moving. The second she got into the passenger seat she started up again, though. “Mom?”

“Jessie, stop. You sound like a broken record…Mom, Mom, Mom! You’re the one that got mad because you said I was lying about everything. That woman with all the make-up and hair spray wasn’t me. That was just me trying to hide, AGAIN, by lying about my life. That was me…living fiction like I have for months now.”

Jessie was silent as she digested my statement. “But Mom, putting on makeup and changing your hair doesn’t mean you’re living fiction!”

“Jess, trust me. When I saw myself in the mirror I didn’t even know who I was. Since your Dad…ummm…died…I’ve been hiding. Hiding from myself. Hiding from my pain. Hiding from what my life became when I was finally, totally alone.

“I didn’t want you to worry about me…but…honestly…I’ve been scaring myself…I’ve been so lost. Lost in my loss…in my losses…

“And I don’t think I can stand my life being defined by loss anymore…it feels like everything has been about loss for so long for me.”

“Mom, I know losing Dad has been so hard…”

“Jessie! You don’t know! You have no idea! And I’m not just talking about your Dad! You grew up! Your brother grew up! And then I had to deal with all the mistakes I made with your brother…Oh. My. God! How am I supposed to fix this? How am I supposed to turn back time? Where do I even start?”

My daughter looked aghast, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. After all, she’d been begging me and begging me to talk to her. I should have told her, “Be careful what you wish for,” but it was too late for that now.

“And here’s the thing…it’s now or never for me. If I don’t change things now, I’m afraid I’ll never be able to. I think I’ll just keep falling into this…this…abyss of despair until I can’t find a way out of it at all!”

“Abyss of despair? Mom! You’re scaring me. Why are you talking like this?”

“I’m talking like this because it’s true. This is my life and I don’t want it anymore. I don’t. I need to change. I have to change or…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know…abyss of despair.”

“Jessica Rose! Don’t be cruel. You asked and you asked and now I’m telling. My life isn’t always the perpetual smiley face that I’ve tried to wear for you since you were a child. I’ve always hid my worries and fears…didn’t want to upset you…didn’t want you to worry. And now…and now…” I stopped suddenly.

What was I doing? I started to back-pedal. I wanted to apologize.

But then I stiffened my spine. I was ‘cupcaking out’ again and I was tired of doing it. I think being the rah-rah Mom and wife for so long had made me invisible to my family. I’d always put a happy spin on even the grimmest situations and been everyone elses cheerleader.

It was only now that I realized that my selfless devotion to my family was not always reciprocal. It was in that moment that I recognized that the problem with always being everyone elses cheerleader meant that maybe, after awhile, people forgot to cheer for you.

For years I’d minimized what I wanted and needed. “Oh, it’s okay, don’t get me anything for my birthday,” I would say, and after awhile they had stopped. “No, no, don’t fuss over me. I can take care of myself,” I would tell them, and after awhile they didn’t bother to try anymore.

Maybe you could be too nice. Maybe being too nice really meant that eventually your expectations of everyone else lowered in direct proportion to their expectations of you.

I pulled up in front of the coffee shop and without turning my car off, I turned toward my daughter. “Jessie, it’s like this. I need to be selfish now. I need to save myself. You know how even the airlines tell you to put your oxygen mask on first so you can help other people put their masks on safely. I need to put my mask on now so I can breathe…so I can function. I’m not going to protect you from how I feel right now. I love you, and I understand if you don’t want to be a part of this. I do. I do understand. But, Jess. I’m a person, too, and right now I don’t have anything left in me to give to you or to anyone else.”

I paused with my hand on the keys. “Let me just take you back to get your car, honey. I don’t think I want coffee anymore. I just really need to think. I’m definitely not feeling like a celebration.”

Jessie reached across the front seat and turned off the keys. She pulled them out of the ignition and tossed them into her purse.

“Mom, seriously. C’mon, let’s go get coffee and celebrate anyway.”

She started to open her car door. I put my hand on her arm and stopped her. “Did you even hear a single word I just said? There is nothing I feel like celebrating right now!”

“Yes, Mom. I heard every, single world you said. But we are going inside. We are going to order coffee and when it comes we’re having a toast.”


She was really starting to irritate me. I don’t think she had listened at all. “Jessie? Why would we have a toast? There is nothing to toast, believe me.”

She looked me straight in the eye.

“Oh yes there is, Mom. For starters, we’re celebrating the first honest conversation we’ve had since I became an adult!”

To be continued on Tuesday, August 16.

(c) 2010 Jennifer R. Matlock
This publication is the exclusive property of Jennifer R. Matlock and is protected
under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws. The contents of this post/story may not be reproduced as a whole or in part, by any means whatsoever, without consent of the author, Jennifer R. Matlock. All rights reserved.

Story-Time Tuesday - Living Fiction

If you missed where this story started just click here to read it or simply click on the Story-Time Tuesday link at the top of my blog to take you to previous chapters.

Living Fiction - Chapter 46

Here's where Chapter 45 left you.

Before I could even be embarrassed, she had stretched the neckline on the sweater and inched it down over my hair and make-up.

She held each arm opening up like I was a small child, and I slid my arms through obediently.

After tugging at the hem of the sweater I looked up to see Millie’s face. She had an expression I could not identify. After a moments silence she bellowed, “Jessie, come see for yourself!”

Jessie popped around the corner immediately. Her eyes grew wide. “Oh Mom,” she said, “Oh, Mom.”

And now, Chapter 46 Continues.

“Oh Mom, what?”

Jessie didn’t answer for a moment.

“JESSICA ROSE! You answer me right now…oh Mom, what?”

Jessie finally closed her mouth and replied, “Okay. Really, Mom. I think you need to see this for yourself.”

Which meant, of course, that I had to waddle up the stairs. Jessie and Millie followed so closely behind me, I know for certain they had to be aware of the dangerously taut fabric on my butt. The tight black underwear was trying valiantly to compress my…ummm…fluffiness, but frankly I was worried that any motion at all might cause the rear seam of the slacks to explode.

Apparently Edgar and Princess wanted to see the ‘big reveal’, too, because as I led the unlikely little parade to the floor-length mirror behind my bathroom door, they joined the entourage.

It was crowded in my little bathroom. Jessie picked up the dogs and put them into the tub.

Millie stopped my turn to the mirror. “Close your eyes, Pearl! Quick, close your eyes and I’ll turn you around,” she insisted.

“Fine,” I told myself, thinking I’d just go along with the nightmare makeover. After all she had spent a long time doing it. The least I could do was let her have a grand reveal. I’d just play along, try not to gasp in horror, thank her and then wash all the goop off my face.

Millie turned me around and squealed, “Okay, Pearl! Look! Look! Open your eyes! Oh, don’t be a chicken! C’mon…open your eyes now.”

So I did.

Just a tiny bit.

And then I opened them wider.

You’re not going to believe this, but I didn’t even recognize the woman in the mirror. I glanced around quickly to see if someone else had snuck into the bathroom with us…but, no…it was really me.

And I have to tell you, I actually looked good.

No, not good.

Great.

Somehow the five inches of make-up that Millie had applied didn’t look like five inches of make-up. She had made my face look brighter, my eyes bigger, my hair healthier and fuller.

I looked…

I looked…

Natural! And younger. And brighter.

“M..M…Millie?” I stammered, “What did you do?”

“Well, Pearl. You probably don’t know this about me but I used to be a professional make-up artist. I used to win so, so, so many awards for making those movie star people look like they had spent the night at home getting eight hours of beauty sleep instead of spending the night…ummm…well…just never mind. What do you think? I think you look so, so, so much better. And see how that pink makes you look all glowy? And that bra? See where the “girls” are? That’s where they’re supposed to be…not hanging down to your belly button…and...”

“Millie,” I interrupted, “My ‘girls’, as you so eloquently call them, were NOT hanging down to my belly button and…”

“Oh, whatever, Pearl. You can’t even see how much better you look. You are totally hopeless. I’m going home!”

As Millie turned to flounce away, I grabbed her arm. And pulled her into a hug. “Millie! I CAN see how much better I look! This is amazing. This is remarkable. I would never in a million years have dreamed that this is what I was going to look like. I was totally certain I was going to open my eyes and see another version of you.”

Millie looked puzzled. And then just a bit hurt. “What’s wrong with the way I look, Pearl? I like the way I look. I didn’t put this style of make-up on you because you couldn’t HANDLE IT!”

“What do you mean, I couldn’t HANDLE IT? I couldn’t handle looking like a…”

I should have known I couldn’t get along with Millie. She was so obnoxious. She was such an annoying little…

Jessie must have read my mind, because she stepped forward. “Mom, you look really good. I think you should just thank Millie and I’ll help her pack up her things and go on her way. We can’t take up any more of this good woman’s morning.”

While Jessie was talking, she opened the bathroom door, shooed the dogs out of the way, took Millie’s arm and started leading her toward the bedroom door.

I stayed in the bathroom staring at my face in the mirror over the sink. Good heavens, this woman was a make-up wizard, obviously. Who would have ever suspected that tacky, old Millie…

Jessie’s authoritativevoice interrupted my personal admiration society.

“Mom? Thank Millie now, so I can help her get her things home.”

Did I mention how bossy that girl had gotten?

Seriously.

I walked to the top of the stairs. Millie and Jessie were standing at the bottom looking up at me. “Millie. I don’t know how you did this, but thank you, thank you! Maybe when you have time you can give me a lesson in putting on make-up.”

Millie narrowed her eyes at me. “Oh, I don’t know, Pearl. I wouldn’t want you to look anything like me!”

Jessie gave me the evil eye and quickly followed Millie into the kitchen.

Geez. Some people are so sensitive.

Slamming the bathroom door, I looked at myself some more.

How had Millie done this? She had spent what felt like forever, making me look like I didn’t really have a lot of make-up on at all. I touched my skin tentatively and leaned in closer to the mirror. She had put just a tiny bit of eyeliner on that didn’t even look like eyeliner. It looked like I actually had eyelashes. And eyebrows. My hair was shiny and full instead of dull and flat. There was an awful lot of hairspray on it. At least it wouldn’t move in the wind. Other than the stiff hair, I loved everything Millie had done to me. She had somehow made me look 10 years younger, 10 pounds lighter and happy.

And if you promise not to tell her, I’ll admit to you that my ‘girls’ had been getting a little bit droopy. The black bra was amazing.

Plus, if I held my stomach in very tightly the muffin tops didn’t look very muffin-y at all.

I must have admired myself for longer than I thought, because the next thing I knew Jessie was knocking on the bathroom door.

“Can I come in?” and without waiting for my reply she opened the door.

“This is crazy, Mom. You look really good. I’m going to get ready and then we’ll go out to celebrate!”

“What are we celebrating, Jessie?”

“We’re celebrating the new you, Mom. And while we’re at it, we’re going to talk about some of the things the old you lied about.”

That girl can really take the wind out of my sails sometimes. Couldn’t she just let me enjoy my moment of glory?

“Okay, fine. Get dressed. Let’s go get some coffee. I know just the place.”

To be continued on Tuesday, August 9.

(c) 2010 Jennifer R. Matlock
This publication is the exclusive property of Jennifer R. Matlock and is protected
under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws. The contents of this post/story may not be reproduced as a whole or in part, by any means whatsoever, without consent of the author, Jennifer R. Matlock. All rights reserved.

Story-Time Tuesday - Living Fiction

If you missed where this story started just click here to read it or simply click on the Story-Time Tuesday link at the top of my blog to take you to previous chapters.

Living Fiction - Chapter 45

Here's where Chapter 44 left you.

“Exactly! You’ve so, so, so got the idea, Pearl! And start today.”

I hesitated. Sure this all sounded like it could work, but I was pretty tired out. And I really felt like I needed to plan this out a little more thoroughly, and…

“Pearl! Stop it! You can make excuses. You just have to do it. Don’t think so much about it. I’m not telling you to get a boob job or something…”

I spit the coffee I was just about to swallow out all over the table.

Boob job? I had to ask, “Millie, did you ummm…”

Millie easily deflected my question. “Boob job or not, now is the time, Pearl. Carpet diem!”

I started to say, “Millie, you mean carpe…not carpet diem,” but it was too late. Millie had rushed out the door.

Chuckling to myself, I turned to Jessie. Jessie didn’t look like she was finding any humor in the situation at all.

“Mom,” she said, “Do you think Millie might be right? Maybe we’ve both just been making excuses for our lives right now. I think I’m going to take Edgar and Princess for a walk. Do you have an extra leash?”

And now, Chapter 45 Continues.

So there I sat. Abandoned in my own kitchen. Jessie had taken both excited dogs for a walk. Who knows where Millie had disappeared to.

While I nibbled on the pecans I had scavenged off the top of the coffeecake, I thought about what Millie had said. Maybe she was right, but part of me felt pretty disloyal to my husband. The odd thing is, though, that the person I’d turned into after he died had never felt like me. Sure, I had my babbling, blundering, vague moments in the years of our marriage, but it wasn’t every waking moment of every blessed day. I don’t think so, anyway. And even though I’d never been a bra burning kind of woman, I hadn’t let my husband control every single aspect of my life. I don’t think I had, anyway. And my husband had never been one of those ‘cave men’ other women complained about. I don’t think he had been, anyway.

Honestly. I didn’t even know what I thought any more. Millie was right. It was time to just do something, anything to get out of this hell I’d been inhabiting for too long. It would be nice if someone would show me what the right ‘something’ was.

As I wondered who that ‘someone’ might be, Millie breezed back into the kitchen, arms laden with an overflowing laundry basket. In her absence, she’d repaired her mascara and reapplied her nuclear pink lipstick. She’d also taken a “Millie pill” because she was only in the door two seconds before she started, “Oh Pearl! I was just MORTIFIED when I saw myself in the mirror at home! I was so, so, so ashamed to see how horrible I looked. Even poor Myron looked surprised when I walked into the kitchen. So before I came back to help YOU, I had to take a moment to repair myself! And here I am! Voila! Now! Let’s get to work. Do you need to pee first?” She plunked the basket onto the kitchen table and looked at me impatiently.

Then Millie tapped me under my chin and said, “Close your mouth, Pearl! A fly is gonna get in there! If you don’t have to pee, let’s just get right to work!”

As she tapped her hands together in glee, I felt the first frisson of fear run down my spine.

Millie pushed me back into one of the kitchen chairs. She tipped her head to the right and then to the left. Then she made me stand up and move to another chair. “Better lighting here,” she said. “Better lighting for what?” I replied.

“Oh never you mind now. Just close your eyes and relax,” said Millie in a reassuring, peppy voice. I sensed resistance would be futile, so I just leaned back into the chair, closed my eyes, and sighed my consent.

Disregarding her instructions, I opened one eye at the sound of many objects being placed on the table. I tried hard to hide my reaction. “Pearl, Millie is trying to help,” I told myself. I think closing my eyes tightly again helped more than my inane little pep talk, though.

I felt Millie rubbing things onto my skin. I felt her wiping things off. I felt her doing something to my hair that involved funny scritch scratch noises and the aeresol ‘sssssssss’ sound and fragrance laden smell of two or three cans of hair spray. She tugged at the corners of my eyes. She told me to purse my lips for a kiss. She tapped her fingers on the bags under my eyes.

After some time went by, I heard Jessie come into the kitchen. The dogs lapped water…loudly. Jessie gave a short intake of breath, and then pulled out a chair.

I started to open my eyes.

“Ahhh…ahhhh…now Pearl, no, no, no…just keep your eyes closed. There’s nothing to be worried about, right Jessie?”

Jessie didn’t reply.

Millie tapped and patted some more. She fiddled with my shirt color. She pulled here and there on my hair and muttered something about ‘roots big enough to hold up an oak tree’.

After a few more minutes, she told me to open my eyes. My kitchen table looked like a clearance sale at a make-up warehouse.

“Not quite done here, Pearl. But now I so, so, so need you to just keep your eyes open for me while I finish up.”

I tried to catch Jessie in my pheripheral vision, but it was impossible.

Millie poked around my eyes a little bit and it felt like she was writing on my eyelids in number two pencil. I saw the mascara wand approach each eye not once, not twice, but three times each.

“Now make sure when you put your mascara on, Pearl, that you do the top of the lashes, too. That’s really important when eyelashes are as pathetic…ummm… I mean…as thin and delicate as yours are.”

Millie stepped back and looked me over.

Her mouth opened into a perfect little “o”. Jessie slid her chair back and joined her. She looked really surprised, too.

“Now,” said Millie decisively, “You are going to stay right there and I am going up to your closet to get you something to change into. I don’t want you to see the ‘after’ wearing that horrible, tacky … ummm… I mean comfortably worn bathrobe. Promise me you’ll stay right in the chair until I get back.”

“Yes, of course, Millie, I promise.”

She squinted her eyes and looked at me carefully and then she held out her pink taloned little finger.

“You know what, Pearl? I just don’t believe you. I want you to pinkie swear with me that you’ll sit in that chair until I find something for you to change into.”

Pinkie swear? Did she think we were in first grade? Seriously.

My pinkie hooked into hers and I agreed. “Pinkie swear, Millie. But hurry up! I can’t wait to wash all this goop off my face.”

Jessie gave me the evil eye. Something she’d been doing quite a bit of all morning.

“Okay, okay. I’m just going to sit here until you find something for me to wear.”

Millie must have given Jessie some kind of signal, because she grabbed a chair and sat down to guard me.

“Jess? Do I look ridiculous?”

Jessie didn’t answer.

“Jessie? C’mon. Just tell me how bad it is?”

“Mom, just be patient. Trust me. You are going to be…ummm… surprised.”

I heard some distant slamming coming from upstairs. I think I heard a few swear words, but I couldn’t be certain.

After what felt like an eternity had passed, Millie clomped back down the stairs with an armload of clothes.

“Pearl, your clothes are pathetic. Absolutely totally so, so, so pathetic. I would just go home and get an outfit for you to wear but you are so much fatte…I mean…more voluptuous than I am.”

She held up a hot pink sweater that I hadn’t worn in forever. “How about this?”

“Well, it’s awfully bright Millie and I think it kind of shows off my muffin tops a little too much and…”

“Muffin tops? What do you mean muffin tops?” Millie demanded.

“You know…muffin tops? Ummm… well… ummm… that bulge that kind of gets pushed up when you put your pants on and…”

“Muffin tops? You mean fat, Pearl? Seriously, girl. I can’t fix everything about you in one day.” She tossed a black bra at me along with the sweater. “Put these on…and no, you can’t go into the bathroom. We’ll just turn around.”

“Millie, first of all, where did you find this black bra? I never wear this. It is totally uncomfortable and pushes my…ummm…chest so high up I think I’m going to get black eyes if I come down the stairs too fast.”

Pearl gave me an icy look. “Put. It. On. Put these control top black underwear on. Put on this sweater. Wiggle your muffin tops into these slacks.”

I hesitated.

“Now!” Millie barked.

Now I understood why Myron always walked around looking slightly shell-shocked. Millie was like a drill sergeant with PMS.

“Fine. You’ll see how ridiculous I look,” I gritted out. “I am going into the living room to change. There are no mirrors in there so I can’t peak. This is ridiculous. And after I change and you both laugh at me, I want you to leave. Both of you. I’ve had enough of this. Really. I wanted your help and all I get is ridicule.”

I grabbed the clothes and flounced into the other room.

Checking to ensure the curtains were completely drawn, I pulled on the underwear. I hated those underwear. They felt like I had wrapped saran wrap around my stomach. I pulled on the pants. They were way too tight. I struggled to pull up the zipper. I felt like a sausage. I wanted to cry. I finally got the zipper up but when I tried to fasten the button, it popped off and flew across the room like a hostile little projectile. The bra felt even more uncomfortable. There was so much wire in that instrument of torture I could have made a fence for Edgar. I tugged and prompted my breasts up so they were encased in the black lace. Seriously. My boobs had not been that high up on my chest cavity since I was 16 years old. Just as I was getting ready to put the hot pink sweater over my head, Millie ran into the room. “No, no, no! Let me help,” she cried, “You’ll mess up your hair!”

Before I could even be embarrassed, she had stretched the neckline on the sweater and inched it down over my hair and make-up.

She held each arm opening up like I was a small child, and I slid my arms through obediently.

After tugging at the hem of the sweater I looked up to see Millie’s face. She had an expression I could not identify. After a moments silence she bellowed, “Jessie, come see for yourself!”

Jessie popped around the corner immediately. Her eyes grew wide. “Oh Mom,” she said, “Oh, Mom.”


To be continued on Tuesday, August 2.

(c) 2010 Jennifer R. Matlock
This publication is the exclusive property of Jennifer R. Matlock and is protected
under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws. The contents of this post/story may not be reproduced as a whole or in part, by any means whatsoever, without consent of the author, Jennifer R. Matlock. All rights reserved.

Story-Time Tuesday - Living Fiction

If you missed where this story started just click here to read it or simply click on the Story-Time Tuesday link at the top of my blog to take you to previous chapters.

Living Fiction - Chapter 44

Here's where Chapter 43 left you.

All three of us let out a collective sigh of relief.

“Now, what were we talking about?” Jessie said in a perky voice after she had thrown the soggy pile of napkins into the sink, “Oh, yes! We were talking about the weather. Right, Mom?”

I almost took the easy way out. I almost just said, “Why, yes, Jessie. Yes, we were talking about the weather.” Millie had quit crying while Jessie and I had cleaned up the coffee. When I glanced at her mascara smeared face, I almost remarked on the barometer but I couldn’t do it. I’d spent too much time ‘cupcaking’ out of my emotions for far too long. And I knew from past experience that seeing a teary face wouldn’t stop Millie from steamrolling over ME!

“No, Jessie. We weren’t talking about the weather. I was asking for Millie’s help.”

Millie leaned forward on her chair looking like she was planning to flee. Jessie leaned forward on her chair like she was ready to stuff a piece of coffee cake into my mouth to shut me up.

I leaned forward on my own chair and continued.


And now, Chapter 44 Continues.

“Millie? Jessie? I need your help.” I straightened my shoulders and took a deep breath. “Since my husband … ummm… passed away… No! Wait! I mean since my husband DIED, I’ve been lost. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat…okay, I can eat…I can’t eat HEALTHY stuff, I mean. Millie, I know you lost your first husband and now here you are with Myron and perfectly happy. Jessie, you just keep doing what you need to do despite … well, despite everything. I can’t seem to do that. I can’t seem to be happy or even know what it is I’m supposed to be doing. Millie, you get all dolled up every day and go to bridge and go shopping and do all kinds of fun things; and Jessie, you are just so strong…you just keep up with your life…no matter what. And I’m…I’m…well…I need help. Even getting out of bed in the morning is too much work. How do you do it? How do you manage everything perfectly?”

Millie looked at Jessie with wide eyes. Jessie looked at Millie with the same expression. They both started talking at the same time.

Jessie stopped talking and motioned for Millie to continue. That girl is all kinds of polite, you know?

“Pearl! Are you crazy?” were the first words out of Millie’s mouth. “I don’t have anything together. In fact, you make me feel rotten about myself because YOU’RE the one that has it all together. After Jimbo, my first husband died, I thought I’d died, too. I didn’t do anything. I couldn’t even leave my house. I just stayed inside and hid from the world. Or I tried to. But even when I was hiding and not answering the doorbell, not going out at all, it didn’t work because I couldn’t hide from me. I was so, so, so unhappy Pearl. I think I spent years dressing in a black bathrobe and not combing my hair.”

I was fascinated. This was certainly a side of Millie I couldn’t imagine.

“Then one day I looked in the mirror. Oh Pearl! It made me feel sick. I couldn’t even see the woman that I was when Jimbo and I had been married. I didn’t even know who I was. All of sudden, I couldn’t stand being who I’d become. Sure, I know you think I’ve always been this glamorous and fun…but if you’d have known me then, Pearl…oh, I’m tellin’ ya. I was really just a mess.”
Pearl leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes before continuing, “So that very day, I made myself get dressed. Jimbo had never liked bright colors; he was a very conservative man. Don’t look so surprised, you two. It’s true. When I dug through my closet, all I found was black,navy blue and brown. And do you know what? I’d never, ever, ever liked those colors. If I brought home a bright pink sweater, Jimbo would roll his eyes…just a tiny bit. No, really. He was a good husband, you know? And I always figured that if my wearing hot pink made him uncomfortable, it wasn’t worth it. Pearl, should we check on the dogs? They’re mighty quiet. Princess is always so, so, so well behaved but I’m not sure…well…I just think we should check on the dogs.”

Jessie jumped up. “I’ll check ‘em…but Pearl…don’t start talking again until I get back.”

I figured I’d take a minute and put on some more coffee. I wanted to be sure Millie had enough caffeine to keep her going through her fascinating little story. Just as I put the pot on to brew, Jessie stuck her head in the kitchen doorway and motioned for me. She held her finger to her lips, warning me to be quiet and then showed me Princess and Edgar curled up together taking a nap on the couch.

When we returned to the kitchen, Millie was standing by the back door. “Pearl, Jessie…can you grab Princess for me? I really need to get home and I’m so, so, so certain you don’t want to listen to my little blast from the past…”

“Yes! Yes, we do!” Jessie and I chorused in perfect stereo harmony. “And besides,” I continued, “Let me show you what Princess is up to.” I led her into the living room.

“Oh Pearl. Look at them. All cuddled up together…you’re right…we’ll just chat some more while we let them take their little nap…besides, you just brewed up that new pot of coffee…”

I dumped out our cold coffee and refilled everyone’s mugs. Jessie cut a few more pieces of the coffee cake.

Millie looked down at the steam rising from her mug. “I don’t know, my story really isn’t all that interesting …and I just…well…I just don’t even remember where I was.”

“Hot pink sweater!” I said. “Jimbo was conservative!” Jessie said at the same time.

Millie reluctantly started her story again. I was surprised she was being so reserved. Normally you could not shut that woman up.

Jessie and I sat entranced for the next hour as Millie continued the story of how she had reinvented her life. That woman went from a wardrobe of brown and black to wearing all the colors she’d loved as a child, the brighter the better. She made herself try new things and meet new people. She told us that her goal every single day was to make herself do something different, even if it was just driving a different way to the grocery store.

“But how did you do it, Millie?” I asked.

“I just did it, Pearl. I knew if I didn’t, I’d spend the rest of my life wearing that ugly black bathrobe and feeling sorry for myself.”

“But how did you even start?” Jessie asked.

“I just did. Everything has to have a first day, you know? Everything.”

“Okay, but, Millie…” I interrupted her again, “How did you know what to do? Did you make a list? Did you read a book? How did you do this?”

“Pearl, you’re making too big of a deal about this. Just do something. Do something different that you didn’t do the day before. Anything. For instance…” she narrowed her eyes at me, “Try putting some make-up on…”

“Millie, my husband was not a big fan of make-up, I just never…” All of the sudden, a light bulb went off in my head. “You mean, just do things I might have wanted to do, and didn’t? Or do things I never got around to trying? Right?”

“Exactly! You’ve so, so, so got the idea, Pearl! And start today.”

I hesitated. Sure this all sounded like it could work, but I was pretty tired out. And I really felt like I needed to plan this out a little more thoroughly, and…

“Pearl! Stop it! You can make excuses. You just have to do it. Don’t think so much about it. I’m not telling you to get a boob job or something…”

I spit the coffee I was just about to swallow out all over the table.

Boob job? I had to ask, “Millie, did you ummm…”

Millie easily deflected my question. “Boob job or not, now is the time, Pearl. Carpet diem!”

I started to say, “Millie, you mean carpe…not carpet diem,” but it was too late. Millie had rushed out the door.

Chuckling to myself, I turned to Jessie. Jessie didn’t look like she was finding any humor in the situation at all.

“Mom,” she said, “Do you think Millie might be right? Maybe we’ve both just been making excuses for our lives right now. I think I’m going to take Edgar and Princess for a walk. Do you have an extra leash?”

To be continued on Tuesday, July 26.

(c) 2010 Jennifer R. Matlock
This publication is the exclusive property of Jennifer R. Matlock and is protected
under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws. The contents of this post/story may not be reproduced as a whole or in part, by any means whatsoever, without consent of the author, Jennifer R. Matlock. All rights reserved.

Story-Time Tuesday - Living Fiction

If you missed where this story started just click here to read it or simply click on the Story-Time Tuesday link at the top of my blog to take you to previous chapters.

Living Fiction - Chapter 43

Here's where Chapter 42 left you.

How do you learn that skill?

How do you learn to talk so people listen? And to get your own way in almost every circumstance? How do just steam roll over everyone like that? Up until now, I’d always thought of Millie as an irritant, but maybe Millie actually had something to teach me.

But I still wasn’t going to go around wearing bright yellow bird feathers and sequins. No matter what.

I turned around and knocked loudly on the door. If I was going to learn from Millie, I needed to fortify myself with caffeine before she arrived. I knocked again, even more loudly.

Edgar’s happy bark let me know Jessie would soon be there to let me back inside my own house.

And now, Chapter 43 Continues.

A moment later I saw Jessie walk into the kitchen with a quizzical look on her face. She looked even more surprised when she saw it was me framed in the window of the kitchen door.

Her incredulous, “Mom?” accompanied the opening of the door, as Edgar added his barking query.

“Thanks! I just locked myself out and now Millie is on the way over with a coffee cake! Quick! You still have about two minutes to escape!”

“Mom, how did you lock yourself out…again?”

Obviously, she had missed my panicked instructions to flee. “Well…it’s like this…I went outside and I forgot to UNLOCK the door, which means when I closed it behind me I got locked out.” Geez, that girl is so nosy. She always has to question every little detail.

She rolled her eyes at me.

Nosy AND disrespectful. Or maybe I was just taking her personally because I was crabby and a little embarrassed.

“Did you hear me? Millie is coming over in a few minutes…you need to make a break for it while you still …”

The knock at the door made the words ‘have a chance’ unnecessary. Escape was now out of the question. Jessie was trapped in the vortex of Millie’s irritating personality right along with me.

I plastered a smile on my face and invited her in. Princess yipped and yapped at me and then leapt nimbly from Millie’s arms to go terrorize Edgar. Have you ever noticed how dogs seem to take on the same characteristics of their owners? I don’t know too much about canines, but even I could see that Princess was really a mini-Millie.

Oddly, Jessie and Millie seemed almost happy to see each other. I was surprised to see the warm hugs they exchanged. Millie took the foil off the coffee cake and Jessie squeaked with delight. “Thank heavens you brought this over, Millie. I called off work this morning so I could finish a conversation with my Mom, and I was starving.”

When Millie turned to set the coffee cake pan on the counter, Jessie gave me a narrow eyed glance that I was certain translated to, ‘Yeah, try to wiggle out of this Mom.”

With great strength of will, I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at her. After all, maybe she wasn’t really giving me the stink eye. Perhaps her eyes were just tired or something.

I set out the container of fat-free half and half and three mugs, including the ‘From Texas with Love’ one that had been the catalyst for this morning’s circus. Throwing some plates, forks and napkins onto the table along with the glass carafe of fragrant coffee was the least I could do as the hostess of this impromptu get together.

Millie asked for a knife to cut her cake, and when I got up to grab one, she rudely took my Texas coffee mug.

It figures.

But at least her selfish act of grabbing the best mug reminded me that I was going to try to learn a few lessons from her about being assertive.

I took a bite of Millie’s cinammon fragrant coffee cake which was almost, but not quite, as good as my own recipe, and then I dove right in.

“Millie? You always seem like a person who knows what she wants…”

Millie looked up from sipping her coffee and seemed a little surprised. “Heavens, Pearl. I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Welllll…I guess I mean…ummm…okay…like this morning, when I said it was too early for company and you just ignored me and…”

Jessie looked surprised.

Millie looked hurt. “Pearl? Didn’t you want me to come over…I so, so, so remember asking you if you wouldn’t like to share my coffee cake and…”

I interrupted her, and tried to soften my observation. “No, no, I did want you to come over…well…okay…maybe I didn’t, but then I thought of how darned bossy you are and…”

Jessie’s startled, “Mom!” stopped me for a second, but then I remembered I was trying to learn to say what I mean and mean what I say.

“Okay, Millie. I didn’t really mean bossy…what I meant to say is that you always know what you want and you don’t care who you have to steamroll over to get it and…OUCH!”

Jessie had kicked me, hard, under the table. She made a slashing motion across her throat. It took me a micro-second to realize she wanted me to shut up.

I started to back down and then I told myself, “No, Pearl. You need to be more assertive. Quit letting people tell you what to do!”

Despite the throbbing in my shin, I continued fearlessly, “Millie? Listen. I don’t think I’m saying this right. What I want to ask you is…well…I think I need some help. You just seem to have everything all together. You know your style! You know what you want! You know how to talk so people listen! You know how to get your own way! You know? Millie? Millie! Are you…oh my gosh, are you crying? Millie! No, no! I’m complimenting you…oh Millie!”

But Millie’s tears continued to drip, which given the sheer volume of mascara she was wearing was not a pretty sight.

I jumped up to get some Kleenex and in the process knocked my coffee cup over. It spread across the table like a tsunami heading for Millie’s yellow rayon clad lap! Frankly, I was worried. What would happen if the hot coffee made contact? Spontaneous combustion? Fortunately, I didn’t find out because Jessie, with the quick reflexes of youth, threw a pile of napkins onto the hot liquid.

All three of us let out a collective sigh of relief.

“Now, what were we talking about?” Jessie said in a perky voice after she had thrown the soggy pile of napkins into the sink, “Oh, yes! We were talking about the weather. Right, Mom?”

I almost took the easy way out. I almost just said, “Why, yes, Jessie. Yes, we were talking about the weather.” Millie had quit crying while Jessie and I had cleaned up the coffee. When I glanced at her mascara smeared face, I almost remarked on the barometer but I couldn’t do it. I’d spent too much time ‘cupcaking’ out of my emotions for far too long. And I knew from past experience that seeing a teary face wouldn’t stop Millie from steamrolling over ME!

“No, Jessie. We weren’t talking about the weather. I was asking for Millie’s help.”

Millie leaned forward on her chair looking like she was planning to flee. Jessie leaned forward on her chair like she was ready to stuff a piece of coffee cake into my mouth to shut me up.

I leaned forward on my own chair and continued.

To be continued on Tuesday, July 19.

(c) 2010 Jennifer R. Matlock
This publication is the exclusive property of Jennifer R. Matlock and is protected
under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws. The contents of this post/story may not be reproduced as a whole or in part, by any means whatsoever, without consent of the author, Jennifer R. Matlock. All rights reserved.