Tag: writing Page 5 of 6

Lying on our backs in the grass, my best friend and I contemplated the clouds, letting the sun and the breeze bathe us in warmth.

“Tell me the plan again?”

I rolled onto my side and propped my head on my hand. “Kelly, it’s really not that complicated. I need to talk to the other men I was in love with –“

“Boys.”

“What?”

Kelly flipped onto her side so she could face me. “Boys, Lex. They were all boys. Don’t kid yourself.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Well, they’re men now. I have a list. It’s not long, but it’s significant. Each name on this list was an important part of my love life, of my growth. I only know my side of things. I want to know theirs. The idea is to find each of them and talk about what went wrong, like John Cusak did in Hi Fidelity. But without the massive ego and the obliviousness to other people’s feelings.”

Laughing, Kelly rolled to her back again.

“Am I the Jack Black character in this scenario, or the Joan Cusak one?”

We both laughed and I told her, “Definitely Joan! It is your duty to be my sounding board and to tell me when I’m being an asshole.”

She paused for just a beat. “Alexis?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re being an asshole.”

I swatted at her, but she rolled out of my reach and splayed out on her stomach while we laughed. She was my best friend for exactly that reason. She saw through my bullshit and wasn’t afraid to call me on it.

She had been around for every name on that list. Starting in 6th grade, when we shared a locker and sat by each other in the flute section of the band. Kelly had shared my joy and dried my tears – and I had done the same for her. When her mom died our junior year and she couldn’t stand being in their empty house all alone, she lived with me until her dad moved back to town just to take care of her. While we weren’t at the same college, we stayed in constant contact and no one ever took her place. She was the one who encouraged me to talk to Jamie one night at a karaoke bar and for that, I would be forever in her debt.

“Do you think this is honestly the best way to go about things?”

I started pulling blades of grass out of the ground, one by one.

“Kell, I don’t know. That’s the worst part – I don’t know! I love Jamie. So much. The idea of not being with him is terrifying to me. But the idea of marrying him, of thinking I’ll be with him for the rest of our lives, only to watch things fall apart is eating me alive. I have to do this.”

Kelly didn’t say anything for a minute, her brow wrinkled as she mulled over my words.

“What did Jamie say about all this?”

I shrugged.

“You know. The same amazing Jamie things he always says: he’d be here when I was ready, that he’d give me all the time I needed to be sure. That he didn’t have any doubts about marrying me. God, he made me so mad!”

She sat straight up and turned an annoyed look on me.

“You need to be medicated, you know that? You need drugs and therapy. LOTS of therapy.”

I grinned up at her.

“That’s why I keep you around.”

Up. Down. Twist, twist. Up. Down. Twist, twist.

I watched the rhythmic motion of the coffee sleeve as Jamie fiddled with it. He still hadn’t looked at me.

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

“No.” His gaze flicked to my face for a millisecond as I answered. “But I think it’s what I need.”

He nodded absently.

Up. Down. Twist, twist.

“I can’t say I understand why you want to postpone the wedding. I thought you wanted to get married. I thought you wanted to marry me.”

His voice was so quiet I could barely make out the words over the sound of the patrons around us. God, I was hurting him, and it was shattering my heart in my chest.

I really was a monster.

“I do want to marry you! I really do! It’s just…You know I love you, right? More than anything?” His hands stopped moving as I paused, then resumed their steady, distracted activity. “I can’t explain it. I just want to see…I need to make sure…it’s not that…”

I raked my hands through my hair and slammed against the back of the seat. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go down. I clasped my hands in my lap, pulling every muscle in tight and I held very still. I was losing control of the situation.

“Shit! This is coming out all wrong. I practiced what I was going to say a hundred times and it came out so much better than this!”

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk, the closest thing to a smile I’d seen since we sat down here thirty minutes ago. Maybe since he heard I climbed out that window.

“Only a hundred?” He flicked his eyes up to me then back at the table. I released my hands and relaxed  just a little.

“Well, maybe not a hundred times – but that’s not far off!”

How could I make him understand? I wanted to marry him. I loved him. But over the course of the last month, since he proposed and I accepted, I started worrying. It’s a thing I did, all the time, over everything. I had been in love before – at least I thought I had been. Why hadn’t those other relationships worked out? I had fallen out of love with other men, or they with me. Who was to say that this relationship, this love, wouldn’t fall to the wayside, just like the rest? In line with my regular prep work and checking and double-checking, I needed to find out why my previous loves had fizzled out – and how to ensure this one wouldn’t. Jamie was the best thing in my life and I couldn’t stand the thought of  finding out too late I wasn’t the best thing in his.

I watched him for a few minutes, neither of us speaking. I didn’t know what else to say. Finally, he sighed and shrugged.

“I mean, I can’t make you marry me. If you need some time to figure things out, to make absolutely sure this is what you want, then time is what you’ll have. And you know I’ll be here whenever you’re ready.”

He was so accepting, so matter-of-fact, that I was immediately angry. One of the traits I had always adored about him was, at this moment, pissing me off. I wanted him to yell at me, to tell me not to go. I wanted to hear that he was scared, too, that his feelings weren’t so indisputable – and that we’d be okay anyway.

Leaning forward with both palms flat on the table I hissed, “Aren’t you at least a little bit afraid?”

At that, his head snapped up, his expression placid, his eyes like steel.

“No. Not at all.”

This is a new series I’m working on that I want to share with all of you. Each week, I will post another chapter. I hope you enjoy it!

I am not known for wild behavior. I don’t think anyone has ever described me as “unreliable,” “reckless,” or “flakey.” When I say I’m going to be somewhere, you can count on me. I am ten minutes early to all appointments. I prepare a “just-in-case” bag when I meet up with people, filled with things someone might need based on the situation. I plan meals for two weeks ahead of time and have Christmas presents purchased and wrapped before Thanksgiving.

Responsible. I have no doubt that will be etched into my gravestone.

So when I climbed out the window at the bridal boutique and disappeared, my family was frantic. I refused to answer my phone. I checked into a nondescript motel on the opposite side of town with nothing but the clothes on my back and whatever was in my purse. The only contact I accepted was from Jamie. My fiancé.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“People are worried about you. Your mom is about to call the police.”

I groaned. Of course she was. Overdramatic, as per usual.

“God, I’m sorry to have put you in this position, Jamie. It’s not fair. But could you…”

He chuckled.

“I’ll tell her I talked to you and that you are definitely NOT dead in a ditch.” There was a slight pause. “Do I get to know where you are?”

I slid from the bed to the floor, the phone pressed against my ear. “Jamie…”

He immediately backpedaled. “No, right. I understand. You need some space. That’s cool. I’m cool. Take whatever time you need.”

“Thanks,” I sighed. Good old Jamie. He was my rock and my favorite person. I knew he’d never push me. He would let me have my nervous breakdown and would cover for me for as long as I asked him to. If I needed clothes or money or even my passport, he’d find a way to get them to me, no questions asked. There had never been a better man on the planet than my Jamie. He was my ride-or-die.

And I was a monster for treating him like this.

“Just promise you’ll talk to me about this when you’re ready, okay?”

After a few more assurances, a few more apologies, and a plethora of thank yous, I told Jamie I loved him and hung up the phone.

I stared at the cell in my hand for several minutes. He didn’t deserve this. Everything about him was perfect for me: He was funny and kind. He loved to cook and was excellent at it. He loved animals and kids and old people. We’d been together for two years and when he asked me to move in with him – and I declined – he didn’t bat a lash. It wasn’t a major crisis and he didn’t automatically assume I didn’t love him. Where I was tightly wound and had to have a color-coded list or schedule for everything, Jamie was content to go with the flow. He even talked me down from the ledge whenever my intricate plans went off-course and I was convinced my whole life was ruined. Like I said, he was my rock. But he was also my soft place to land when things went off the rails.

So why was I afraid to marry him?

This is a new series I’m working on that I want to share with all of you. Each week, I will post another chapter. I hope you enjoy it!

I can’t do this.

Alone in the dressing room, my heart was racing and my palms were sweating. What made me think I was ready for this? I was 25 years old – barely an adult – and yet here I was. Trying on dresses for a wedding.

For MY wedding.

I stared at the woman in the mirror, knowing she looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place her. Dark curls stifled in a French knot, lacy veil cascading over her shoulders, a sleek white dress hugging her curves. She was frozen in space and time, unable to move forward but unable to go back. Trapped in this room, trapped in planning a wedding, trapped in a life she wasn’t ready for and wasn’t sure she wanted.

Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.

Squeals of delight filtered through the door, snapping me out of my trance. I had to get out of here. This was all wrong, this was the personification of my nightmares. I tore the veil off my head, painfully pulling some bobby pins out in the process. I continued to yank at the rest until my hair was free and wild down my back. Then I twisted and contorted myself to reach the clamps holding the too-big dress on my frame so I could shimmy out of the lace and satin straightjacket. I left it pooled on the floor as I tugged my jeans up over my hips and zipped my hoodie.

Slipping into my shoes, I tiptoed to the door. God, I hoped the saleswoman wasn’t on her way back with more dresses. I didn’t want to knock her down like a linebacker, but by god, if she got in my way that’s exactly what was going to happen! Opening the door barely a crack, I peeked into the hallway. Another party of excited young women were gathered around a mirror, oohing and aahing over the teary-eyed bride-to-be in her enormous white flounces. My stomach clenched, trying to suffocate the terrified butterflies trying to burst free.

When I felt the coast was clear, I slid out of the room, pulling the door closed behind me. I strolled down the hall, my hood pulled close over my head. The exit sign was right in front of me, just at the end of the hallway – I was almost out! I was in such a panicked state that I hadn’t stopped to think about my mom, my sisters, my best friend, waiting in the lounge for me. They’d be so freaked out when they realized I was gone.

Eh, they had champagne to entertain them – they wouldn’t miss me for at least another hour.

Three feet from the exit, I heard Janice, the sales attendant, calling my name.

“Alexis! What are you doing out here? Can I help you find something?”

Shit. I was SO CLOSE. I spun around with what I hoped was a pleasant expression.

“I was looking for the bathroom…?”

Janice forced a smile and inclined her head to my left. “Right there.” The smile didn’t reach her eyes and her voice was falsely upbeat. I didn’t blame her. She was nearly buried in a pile of new dresses for me to try on after putting up with my shenanigans all morning. I had been pretty difficult: One dress was too big, another was too slutty, the next accentuated my many lumps and bumps. I had shown my entourage one dress in more than an hour.

Janice probably hated me, and with good reason.

I shrugged an apology and ducked into the bathroom. Leaning against the door with eyes shut, I waited, counting to ten. That should be enough time for Janice to get back to the room so I could escape without her seeing me.

A sudden rapping on the door made me jump.

“Oh, Alexis? I brought five more dresses to the room – I know THE ONE is in this batch! I’m not sure if you remember the room number so I’ll just wait here for you!”

Great.

Opening my eyes, I glanced around, deciding to make myself comfortable until I could come up with an excuse to cut this torture short. Diarrhea? For sure. She’d probably shove me out the door herself. I just needed to give it a few more minutes to make it believable. Then my eyes landed on the window and another idea started to form.

It didn’t take much effort to pry it open – I just hoped it wasn’t hooked up to some security system that would give away my hasty retreat. There wasn’t a whole lot of room to squeeze all my parts through, but at least the window opened into a deserted alley. Over a closed and fairly clean dumpster, no less. With a little effort, I was able to shimmy through the opening onto the lid. Once on the ground, I straightened my sweatshirt, fluffed my hair, and slipped my purse over my shoulder.

Then I ran like hell.