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Chapter Ten:
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It’s early Saturday morning.
I’m lying in bed. My chest feels heavy.
It’s because Max’s head is on it.
I open my eyes and he’s staring at me.
I wait for the explanation.
He sits up. “I was listening to your heart.”
I get up from the bed and go into the bathroom. I lock the door.
The last time I woke to him doing that was last year. He said then that he wanted to make sure my heart still beat for him.
I know better this time.
We have two sinks in the bathroom, the left is mine, the right is his. They both look exactly the same. Why are there two?
There’s a knock on the door.
“Liz?”
I don’t answer.
He stops asking.
My face is washed. My teeth are brushed. I am up.
I change and it’s early, but it’s okay. I’ll start my jogging early today.
Max is sitting on the bed when I get out.
He sees my clothes and stands up. “Wait and I’ll get dressed.”
He goes into the bathroom.
I don’t wait.
I go to the park.
It’s Saturday morning. I need to run. I need to feel my heart beat faster. I need to get back into the routine.
The week is almost over. And nothing will change.
The week is almost over and everything will be the same.
The park is empty. I jog alone.
It’s Saturday morning.
The wind is blowing. It’s cold.
The trees have changed colors but everything is the same.
The park is empty.
I feel empty.
Nothing has changed.
My heart catches up to me and I stop jogging. I walk. I don’t last as long as I used to anymore.
Will Max look for me?
Will Max find me?
The sun is coming up, but the air is cold.
There’s someone else running in the park.
I should leave.
He’s running up to me, I can see him.
He stops. He’s smiling. “Liz.”
Alex.
“Hi.” He hugs me. “Your mother said that you run in this park on Saturdays, but I never see you. Usually no one is here at this time.”
The sun is still coming up. It’s early. I’m early.
“Come on, come sit with me.” He keeps smiling. He walks over to a bench.
I should leave, but I follow.
“So, how have you been?” He’s still catching his breath.
I shrug. I smile. I’m being pleasant.
“So where’s your husband?” He leans back, still smiling.
I shrug again.
I feel for my ring. I look at it. It’s not as big as the one Alex had offered me.
“So have you thought about the job offer?”
I look at him.
“Nancy said she told you. I need a receptionist. And the position is still open if you want it.” He smiles again.
I stand up. “I should get going.”
He stands too. “Come on, Liz. I haven’t talked to you in ages. I miss us.” His hand goes to my cheek.
I close my eyes. “I’ll think about it.”
I turn and leave.
It’s Saturday morning.
It’s cold.
I walk back.
Max isn’t there when I get home.
There’s a note next to the answering machine.
Something came up.
I’ll be back tonight.
-Max
I turn off the heater and go out to the balcony.
Nothing has changed.
Everything is the same.
Life is routine.
Empty.
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Empty (AU, ML, MATURE) (Complete)
Moderators: Itzstacie, Forum Moderators
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Chapter Eleven:
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The doorbell rang later that night. Max hadn’t come home yet. He hadn’t called yet either.
I was on the balcony. I could see the blonde woman walk up the stairs from where I sat in my folding chair.
She had her hair pulled back and a black trench coat on, looking prim and proper. And out of place here.
Max and I weren’t poor. We live in an upscale apartment complex. Eddie is our neighbor. He’s a professional poker player. He’s a millionaire. Or so he tells me.
“Are you going to answer that?” he asks, smoking another cigarette in the balcony next to mine.
I wait for the doorbell to ring a second time before I stand up to go inside.
She’s looking impatient by the time I open the door for her.
We stand there. She looks at me expectantly. I look at her the same way.
“Is Maxwell home?”
“Maxwell?” I shake my head. I’ve never heard anyone refer to him as Maxwell before. If not by Mr. Evans, then only Max.
Her hand goes into the pocket of her expensive black coat. She has on matching gloves.
She pulls out a piece of paper and shows it to me. It’s a paper copy of my husband’s driver’s license. “Is this not the right address?”
I nod my answer. “But he’s not home.”
“When will he be back?” she asks, putting the paper back in her pocket.
I shake my head. “He didn’t say.”
She looks impatient. “May I wait inside?”
I open the door for her and she steps in. She looks around and takes a seat on the sofa.
I close the door. She has yet to tell me who she is. And why she’s here. Other than that she’s waiting for my husband.
She waits for me expectantly.
I stand.
She takes off her gloves. “May I have a cup of tea?”
I nod and walk into the kitchen. I’ve never made anyone a cup of tea in the apartment before.
I only have tea on Sundays.
I set the kettle on the stove and walk back out.
She’s standing now. She has her gloves back on. “Does he always keep the place this cold?”
I walk over to the thermostat. I don’t feel the cold. I’ve been out on the balcony all day. I’m used to the cold. Apparently, this woman likes warmth.
She hasn’t told me why she’s here. Or who she is.
“Does he have a cell phone you can reach him at? He never gave me his number.” Some type of emotion enters her eyes.
I don’t want to know what it is.
I turn to the phone to call him. I know his number by heart.
He picks up after one ring.
“Liz? What’s wrong?” he sounds worried. I don’t usually call. “I’m almost home.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he hangs up.
I put the phone down and turn back to her. She’s seated on the sofa again. “He’s almost home.”
She nods and sits.
The kettle whistles.
I make her her tea.
I walk over and hand it to her. Her gloves are off again. The apartment is warmer.
She takes it from me with a nod.
She has yet to tell me who she is. Or why she’s here.
“Don’t let me interrupt you,” she sounds pleasant, but is cold. It’s a snobbishness.
I go out to the balcony.
Eddie is still smoking his cigarette.
“So who was your guest?” he’s curious and smiling.
I shrug. She didn’t say.
“She’s pretty,” he says. We saw her walking up from the balcony. She came in a taxi.
I nod. She is.
Max pulls into his parking space. He looks up at me.
Eddie waves at him.
He runs up the stairs.
I stay seated.
Eddie looks at me. “What’s going on?”
I shake my head. I shrug. She didn’t say who she was. Or why she’s here.
I don’t want to know.
He pulls out another cigarette and lights it.
I hear the front door open. I look at Eddie. “Can I have one?”
His eyebrow goes up. “Sure.” He lights it for me.
I stand up and reach over for it.
He smiles. “I didn’t know you smoke.”
“I don’t.” The first drag hits me.
I hear them talking inside.
Eddie’s eyes go to my balcony door. He looks at me. “Do you want to come over?”
I take another drag. I shake my head.
“Okay,” he says, leaning further on the rail. “I’ll stay out here with you then.”
I nod.
I hear the front door open and close.
I watch Max walk to his car, the woman a few steps behind him.
Eddie’s quiet.
He opens the passenger door for her. She gets in.
He looks up at me.
I take another drag and drop the cigarette.
I go inside.
Her cup of tea is still on the table, a line of lipstick on the rim.
She didn’t say why she was here. Or who she was.
But she left with my husband.
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Chapter Eleven:
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The doorbell rang later that night. Max hadn’t come home yet. He hadn’t called yet either.
I was on the balcony. I could see the blonde woman walk up the stairs from where I sat in my folding chair.
She had her hair pulled back and a black trench coat on, looking prim and proper. And out of place here.
Max and I weren’t poor. We live in an upscale apartment complex. Eddie is our neighbor. He’s a professional poker player. He’s a millionaire. Or so he tells me.
“Are you going to answer that?” he asks, smoking another cigarette in the balcony next to mine.
I wait for the doorbell to ring a second time before I stand up to go inside.
She’s looking impatient by the time I open the door for her.
We stand there. She looks at me expectantly. I look at her the same way.
“Is Maxwell home?”
“Maxwell?” I shake my head. I’ve never heard anyone refer to him as Maxwell before. If not by Mr. Evans, then only Max.
Her hand goes into the pocket of her expensive black coat. She has on matching gloves.
She pulls out a piece of paper and shows it to me. It’s a paper copy of my husband’s driver’s license. “Is this not the right address?”
I nod my answer. “But he’s not home.”
“When will he be back?” she asks, putting the paper back in her pocket.
I shake my head. “He didn’t say.”
She looks impatient. “May I wait inside?”
I open the door for her and she steps in. She looks around and takes a seat on the sofa.
I close the door. She has yet to tell me who she is. And why she’s here. Other than that she’s waiting for my husband.
She waits for me expectantly.
I stand.
She takes off her gloves. “May I have a cup of tea?”
I nod and walk into the kitchen. I’ve never made anyone a cup of tea in the apartment before.
I only have tea on Sundays.
I set the kettle on the stove and walk back out.
She’s standing now. She has her gloves back on. “Does he always keep the place this cold?”
I walk over to the thermostat. I don’t feel the cold. I’ve been out on the balcony all day. I’m used to the cold. Apparently, this woman likes warmth.
She hasn’t told me why she’s here. Or who she is.
“Does he have a cell phone you can reach him at? He never gave me his number.” Some type of emotion enters her eyes.
I don’t want to know what it is.
I turn to the phone to call him. I know his number by heart.
He picks up after one ring.
“Liz? What’s wrong?” he sounds worried. I don’t usually call. “I’m almost home.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he hangs up.
I put the phone down and turn back to her. She’s seated on the sofa again. “He’s almost home.”
She nods and sits.
The kettle whistles.
I make her her tea.
I walk over and hand it to her. Her gloves are off again. The apartment is warmer.
She takes it from me with a nod.
She has yet to tell me who she is. Or why she’s here.
“Don’t let me interrupt you,” she sounds pleasant, but is cold. It’s a snobbishness.
I go out to the balcony.
Eddie is still smoking his cigarette.
“So who was your guest?” he’s curious and smiling.
I shrug. She didn’t say.
“She’s pretty,” he says. We saw her walking up from the balcony. She came in a taxi.
I nod. She is.
Max pulls into his parking space. He looks up at me.
Eddie waves at him.
He runs up the stairs.
I stay seated.
Eddie looks at me. “What’s going on?”
I shake my head. I shrug. She didn’t say who she was. Or why she’s here.
I don’t want to know.
He pulls out another cigarette and lights it.
I hear the front door open. I look at Eddie. “Can I have one?”
His eyebrow goes up. “Sure.” He lights it for me.
I stand up and reach over for it.
He smiles. “I didn’t know you smoke.”
“I don’t.” The first drag hits me.
I hear them talking inside.
Eddie’s eyes go to my balcony door. He looks at me. “Do you want to come over?”
I take another drag. I shake my head.
“Okay,” he says, leaning further on the rail. “I’ll stay out here with you then.”
I nod.
I hear the front door open and close.
I watch Max walk to his car, the woman a few steps behind him.
Eddie’s quiet.
He opens the passenger door for her. She gets in.
He looks up at me.
I take another drag and drop the cigarette.
I go inside.
Her cup of tea is still on the table, a line of lipstick on the rim.
She didn’t say why she was here. Or who she was.
But she left with my husband.
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Last edited by Evelynn on Sat Feb 10, 2007 5:46 am, edited 4 times in total.
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Chapter Twelve:
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Max didn’t come home last night.
But Max called three times on the house phone. Once on my cell phone.
He left one message.
“Liz, damn it! Pick up the phone! I know you’re there ... … Look, something has come up. I’ll be back … tomorrow night ... … We have to talk.”
I heard the message being left last night.
I erased it the next morning.
I grab my purse and my keys.
It’s Sunday. The week is almost over. And I’m late for tea.
My drive to my mother’s house was slow.
Her car isn’t parked out front.
The front door is locked. I haven’t used my house key in years.
I go inside and close the door.
The kitchen is empty.
My mother is on the sofa, asleep.
I walk in and turn the kettle on. Mother hears me. She sits up.
“I must have dozed off waiting for you,” she yawns out and stretches.
I know. I’m late.
“Normally, I can set my clock by you. What happened?” she asks, taking a seat at the kitchen table.
Apparently, I’m preparing our tea this Sunday. I don’t usually.
“It’s Max, isn’t it?” she knows something’s wrong. She always knows these things.
I pull down two tea cups. “Where’s your car?”
She doesn’t bite. “He’s having an affair, isn’t he?” she shakes her head. Mothers always seem to know these things. “Well?”
I take out the sugar. “Where’s your car?”
She yawns. “Richard’s car is in the shop so I let him borrow mine for the day. I don’t really use it.”
Richard.
I shake my head. “You play bridge on Sunday evenings.”
“If Richard doesn’t come back by then I thought you could take me,” she yawns out again.
“Long night?” I ask. The kettle whistles.
She looks at me. “Not really. Why do you ask?”
I shrug. She’s yawning. My mother isn’t usually the tired type.
I look through the cabinets for the tea leaves.
My mother comes in and pulls them out of the pantry.
I take my seat at the kitchen table.
“Maybe you can come and play with us tonight. We’re not sure if Debbie can make it,” she says from the kitchen.
Debbie is Alex’s mother.
She walks out and puts a cup in front of me.
She sits down and looks at me.
“I can’t.” The cup warms my hands. “Max is coming home tonight.”
Or so he said in the message. He wants to talk.
“Oh,” she comments, one of her eyebrows going up. “I thought he said he was taking the whole week off.”
I nod. She knows.
“Where was he last night then?” she’s prying.
I sip my tea.
She taps on the kitchen table. I watch her pick her cup up and blow at it. “Is she pretty?”
I put my cup down. “Mother-”
She sips her tea and puts it back down. “Alex wouldn’t treat you this way.”
“Mother-”
“I’m just saying,” she’s raising her voice at me. “You aren’t happy, Liz. You haven’t been in a long time.”
I was. I was happy.
“I don’t like seeing you this way,” she’s breathing hard.
So am I.
“You never should have married him. If your father hadn’t died …” she’s shaking her head. She’s getting emotional.
So am I.
Our teas forgotten.
“I could see why you were so attracted to him. He could charm the pants off of anyone. But look at you now, Elizabeth. You’re empty. You’re going through life like nothing matters. You shouldn’t be this way.”
I stare down at the table. “I loved Max.”
“And I loved your father!” she’s yelling. She takes a deep breath. “But things happen.” She’s staring down at the table too. Her voice is quiet. “And I’ve moved on.”
Richard.
My father is gone. But Max isn’t.
My mother has moved on. But I can’t. “I can’t.”
“Don’t do this to yourself,” she’s yelling once more. “You’re so young. You had so much going for you.”
She’s wiping at her tears.
I’m doing the same.
Her voice is strained. “You could be so happy.”
If it weren’t for Max. She doesn’t say it. But I hear it all the same.
I shake my head. “Max made me happy.”
There’s silence. I look at her.
She’s staring back. “Are you happy right now? Honestly.”
I don’t answer. I can’t answer.
“It isn’t too late to start over, Liz,” She’s whispering.
It’s hard to breathe.
“Listen to me for once.” She’s looking straight at me.
I stare at the kitchen table.
The front door opens.
Richard walks in.
He’s intruding.
He watches from the living room. “Did I come at a bad time?”
I stand up and leave.
It’s cold outside.
The drive back was slow.
The apartment is empty.
It’s cold inside.
There’s one message on the machine.
It’s Max.
“Honey … … I’m sorry. I’ll see you tonight.”
I stare at the machine.
It wasn’t Max’s fault.
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Chapter Twelve:
-------------------------------------------------
Max didn’t come home last night.
But Max called three times on the house phone. Once on my cell phone.
He left one message.
“Liz, damn it! Pick up the phone! I know you’re there ... … Look, something has come up. I’ll be back … tomorrow night ... … We have to talk.”
I heard the message being left last night.
I erased it the next morning.
I grab my purse and my keys.
It’s Sunday. The week is almost over. And I’m late for tea.
My drive to my mother’s house was slow.
Her car isn’t parked out front.
The front door is locked. I haven’t used my house key in years.
I go inside and close the door.
The kitchen is empty.
My mother is on the sofa, asleep.
I walk in and turn the kettle on. Mother hears me. She sits up.
“I must have dozed off waiting for you,” she yawns out and stretches.
I know. I’m late.
“Normally, I can set my clock by you. What happened?” she asks, taking a seat at the kitchen table.
Apparently, I’m preparing our tea this Sunday. I don’t usually.
“It’s Max, isn’t it?” she knows something’s wrong. She always knows these things.
I pull down two tea cups. “Where’s your car?”
She doesn’t bite. “He’s having an affair, isn’t he?” she shakes her head. Mothers always seem to know these things. “Well?”
I take out the sugar. “Where’s your car?”
She yawns. “Richard’s car is in the shop so I let him borrow mine for the day. I don’t really use it.”
Richard.
I shake my head. “You play bridge on Sunday evenings.”
“If Richard doesn’t come back by then I thought you could take me,” she yawns out again.
“Long night?” I ask. The kettle whistles.
She looks at me. “Not really. Why do you ask?”
I shrug. She’s yawning. My mother isn’t usually the tired type.
I look through the cabinets for the tea leaves.
My mother comes in and pulls them out of the pantry.
I take my seat at the kitchen table.
“Maybe you can come and play with us tonight. We’re not sure if Debbie can make it,” she says from the kitchen.
Debbie is Alex’s mother.
She walks out and puts a cup in front of me.
She sits down and looks at me.
“I can’t.” The cup warms my hands. “Max is coming home tonight.”
Or so he said in the message. He wants to talk.
“Oh,” she comments, one of her eyebrows going up. “I thought he said he was taking the whole week off.”
I nod. She knows.
“Where was he last night then?” she’s prying.
I sip my tea.
She taps on the kitchen table. I watch her pick her cup up and blow at it. “Is she pretty?”
I put my cup down. “Mother-”
She sips her tea and puts it back down. “Alex wouldn’t treat you this way.”
“Mother-”
“I’m just saying,” she’s raising her voice at me. “You aren’t happy, Liz. You haven’t been in a long time.”
I was. I was happy.
“I don’t like seeing you this way,” she’s breathing hard.
So am I.
“You never should have married him. If your father hadn’t died …” she’s shaking her head. She’s getting emotional.
So am I.
Our teas forgotten.
“I could see why you were so attracted to him. He could charm the pants off of anyone. But look at you now, Elizabeth. You’re empty. You’re going through life like nothing matters. You shouldn’t be this way.”
I stare down at the table. “I loved Max.”
“And I loved your father!” she’s yelling. She takes a deep breath. “But things happen.” She’s staring down at the table too. Her voice is quiet. “And I’ve moved on.”
Richard.
My father is gone. But Max isn’t.
My mother has moved on. But I can’t. “I can’t.”
“Don’t do this to yourself,” she’s yelling once more. “You’re so young. You had so much going for you.”
She’s wiping at her tears.
I’m doing the same.
Her voice is strained. “You could be so happy.”
If it weren’t for Max. She doesn’t say it. But I hear it all the same.
I shake my head. “Max made me happy.”
There’s silence. I look at her.
She’s staring back. “Are you happy right now? Honestly.”
I don’t answer. I can’t answer.
“It isn’t too late to start over, Liz,” She’s whispering.
It’s hard to breathe.
“Listen to me for once.” She’s looking straight at me.
I stare at the kitchen table.
The front door opens.
Richard walks in.
He’s intruding.
He watches from the living room. “Did I come at a bad time?”
I stand up and leave.
It’s cold outside.
The drive back was slow.
The apartment is empty.
It’s cold inside.
There’s one message on the machine.
It’s Max.
“Honey … … I’m sorry. I’ll see you tonight.”
I stare at the machine.
It wasn’t Max’s fault.
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Last edited by Evelynn on Sat Feb 10, 2007 5:52 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Chapter Thirteen:
-------------------------------------------------
Max was home by six that evening.
I wasn’t there waiting for him.
But he was home by six.
I know this because he called my cell phone. From the house phone.
“You aren’t going to pick that up?”
I shake my head. It stops ringing.
I’m at Eddie’s apartment.
He’s in the kitchen.
I’m sitting at his kitchen table. He lets me smoke inside.
He takes his oven mitts off and sits down beside me.
He lights up a cigarette too. “So what’s up with you and Max?” he asks after taking a drag.
I shake my head.
“Is it that blonde?” he keeps prying.
I shake my head again.
Eddie’s apartment is nice. It’s simple, but nice.
My sweater is off in the chair beside me.
Eddie likes to keep his apartment cooler than Max does.
“Thanks for coming over, Liz,” he smiles at me.
I smile back.
I take another drag.
We sit for a while longer.
I finish my cigarette.
Eddie finishes his.
My phone rings again. Eddie looks at the number.
I know who it is.
“It’s Max,” he says, looking at me.
I nod and stand up to go into the kitchen. I open up the oven. I look inside and nod at him.
He takes over with the oven mitts and takes the tray out of the oven.
I walk back over to the kitchen table.
“What now?” he asks from the kitchen.
I light up another cigarette. “Wait for it to cool.”
He nods. He puts the tray on the stove and sits back down with me.
“Thanks again for doing this, Liz,” he’s not smiling any more.
I smile at him. I nod.
He sighs.
He’s sad.
His mother is in the hospital. She went in for a check-up and they kept her overnight. Twice.
He’s worried.
I’m teaching him how to bake cookies for her.
This is his third try. I could smell the burning from the balcony after his second attempt.
He came out and asked me over to help.
Max wasn’t home yet.
I said yes.
The week is over. Tomorrow, things will go back to how they were.
My cell phone rings again.
Eddie looks at me.
Max is home. The week is over. He wants to talk.
It stops ringing.
I put out my cigarette and stand.
Eddie walks me to his door. “Thanks again, Liz.”
I nod.
He smiles.
My phone rings again. Max is calling from his cell this time.
I walk back to my apartment.
Eddie closes his door.
I enter to see Max pacing, phone to his ear.
I close the door behind me.
He puts his phone down.
“I’ve been calling you,” he says from the living room.
I nod. I know.
I put my purse down and sit at the kitchen table. Max wanted to talk.
Our house phone rings. I stay seated.
Max just stares at me from the living room.
The machine picks it up.
“Liz. This is Alex. I’m just returning your call. Call me back at three eight nine, zero three one four. Bye.”
My eyes go to the machine. I didn’t call Alex.
“I called him.” Max sighs, stepping over to push the delete key on the answering machine. “I thought maybe that was where you were.”
I shake my head.
He nods.
He wanted to talk.
I’m waiting.
“It’s Sunday,” he says.
I nod. The week is over.
He wanted to talk.
It’s near six thirty.
I’m sitting at the table.
He’s standing in the living room.
He wanted to talk.
I’m waiting.
“Let’s go out to dinner,” he says, looking at his watch.
I go into the room to get a coat.
The doorbell rings.
I walk out to see Eddie leaving. He waves at me.
Max closes the door. He’s holding my sweater.
“You left this at Eddie’s,” he says, watching me.
I nod, taking the sweater from him and throwing it on the sofa.
I leave out the door.
Max follows.
He wanted to talk.
I’m still waiting.
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Chapter Thirteen:
-------------------------------------------------
Max was home by six that evening.
I wasn’t there waiting for him.
But he was home by six.
I know this because he called my cell phone. From the house phone.
“You aren’t going to pick that up?”
I shake my head. It stops ringing.
I’m at Eddie’s apartment.
He’s in the kitchen.
I’m sitting at his kitchen table. He lets me smoke inside.
He takes his oven mitts off and sits down beside me.
He lights up a cigarette too. “So what’s up with you and Max?” he asks after taking a drag.
I shake my head.
“Is it that blonde?” he keeps prying.
I shake my head again.
Eddie’s apartment is nice. It’s simple, but nice.
My sweater is off in the chair beside me.
Eddie likes to keep his apartment cooler than Max does.
“Thanks for coming over, Liz,” he smiles at me.
I smile back.
I take another drag.
We sit for a while longer.
I finish my cigarette.
Eddie finishes his.
My phone rings again. Eddie looks at the number.
I know who it is.
“It’s Max,” he says, looking at me.
I nod and stand up to go into the kitchen. I open up the oven. I look inside and nod at him.
He takes over with the oven mitts and takes the tray out of the oven.
I walk back over to the kitchen table.
“What now?” he asks from the kitchen.
I light up another cigarette. “Wait for it to cool.”
He nods. He puts the tray on the stove and sits back down with me.
“Thanks again for doing this, Liz,” he’s not smiling any more.
I smile at him. I nod.
He sighs.
He’s sad.
His mother is in the hospital. She went in for a check-up and they kept her overnight. Twice.
He’s worried.
I’m teaching him how to bake cookies for her.
This is his third try. I could smell the burning from the balcony after his second attempt.
He came out and asked me over to help.
Max wasn’t home yet.
I said yes.
The week is over. Tomorrow, things will go back to how they were.
My cell phone rings again.
Eddie looks at me.
Max is home. The week is over. He wants to talk.
It stops ringing.
I put out my cigarette and stand.
Eddie walks me to his door. “Thanks again, Liz.”
I nod.
He smiles.
My phone rings again. Max is calling from his cell this time.
I walk back to my apartment.
Eddie closes his door.
I enter to see Max pacing, phone to his ear.
I close the door behind me.
He puts his phone down.
“I’ve been calling you,” he says from the living room.
I nod. I know.
I put my purse down and sit at the kitchen table. Max wanted to talk.
Our house phone rings. I stay seated.
Max just stares at me from the living room.
The machine picks it up.
“Liz. This is Alex. I’m just returning your call. Call me back at three eight nine, zero three one four. Bye.”
My eyes go to the machine. I didn’t call Alex.
“I called him.” Max sighs, stepping over to push the delete key on the answering machine. “I thought maybe that was where you were.”
I shake my head.
He nods.
He wanted to talk.
I’m waiting.
“It’s Sunday,” he says.
I nod. The week is over.
He wanted to talk.
It’s near six thirty.
I’m sitting at the table.
He’s standing in the living room.
He wanted to talk.
I’m waiting.
“Let’s go out to dinner,” he says, looking at his watch.
I go into the room to get a coat.
The doorbell rings.
I walk out to see Eddie leaving. He waves at me.
Max closes the door. He’s holding my sweater.
“You left this at Eddie’s,” he says, watching me.
I nod, taking the sweater from him and throwing it on the sofa.
I leave out the door.
Max follows.
He wanted to talk.
I’m still waiting.
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Last edited by Evelynn on Sat Feb 10, 2007 5:58 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Chapter Fourteen:
-------------------------------------------------
We’ve been seated. We’ve ordered and our wine has been poured.
Everything seems fine but they aren’t.
Something is wrong with Max. I can tell. Two years of marriage will do that to you.
If this talk is as serious as he is making it out to be, it’s not like him to talk over dinner.
Not that we couldn’t discuss whatever this is in a formal restaurant with other people around. Max will be calm. Max is always calm. He’s not one to raise his voice. Especially not at me.
“Liz,” he starts. He’s contemplating. He’s watching me. Something is wrong. “You look beautiful,” he finishes and sips his wine.
Something is wrong.
Is it our marriage?
Is it that woman?
Is it me?
Our food is served and he doesn’t speak for the remainder of the meal.
I don’t eat.
Neither does Max.
Something is wrong.
He finishes his wine.
I finish mine.
What does he have to talk about that he can’t say? Max has always been good with words. Max has never had a problem speaking. He’s eloquent. He’s charming. Is that why I married him? Because he charmed me?
The waiter comes our way again. Max waves him off again.
It’s Sunday. The week is over. Whatever he has to say, he should say now.
“So,” he starts again.
And for all of the faults of our marriage, I never ever once thought that Max would ever divorce me … until now.
“I um …” he’s fumbling with his words. Something’s wrong. This isn’t like Max.
He couldn’t divorce me … could he?
He wouldn’t leave me … would he?
I can’t live without Max … can I?
“It’s Sunday.” He stares at me while the words leave my mouth. The week is over. Did he find out what he wanted to find out? Is that what’s leading to this talk?
“I know,” he nods and sighs and sits up. I think he’s done fumbling. I think he’s getting back to being Max again. “I know last week I told you that I was taking a week off,” he waits for confirmation.
I nod.
He leans forward, watching me, “I’m not going back.”
I sit.
“I quit the law firm,” he talks slow and he pauses every now and then, still watching me. “Something has come up. But I,” he sighs, “I wasn’t sure how to tell you because it’s a big decision and I didn’t know how you’d take it.”
I sit.
“I have to move to New York as soon as possible,” he’s still watching me.
I sit. I nod. My eyes drift downward.
“I want you to come with me,” he says it like an afterthought.
I feel him reaching for my hand.
It’s Sunday.
The week is over.
I pull my hand away.
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Chapter Fourteen:
-------------------------------------------------
We’ve been seated. We’ve ordered and our wine has been poured.
Everything seems fine but they aren’t.
Something is wrong with Max. I can tell. Two years of marriage will do that to you.
If this talk is as serious as he is making it out to be, it’s not like him to talk over dinner.
Not that we couldn’t discuss whatever this is in a formal restaurant with other people around. Max will be calm. Max is always calm. He’s not one to raise his voice. Especially not at me.
“Liz,” he starts. He’s contemplating. He’s watching me. Something is wrong. “You look beautiful,” he finishes and sips his wine.
Something is wrong.
Is it our marriage?
Is it that woman?
Is it me?
Our food is served and he doesn’t speak for the remainder of the meal.
I don’t eat.
Neither does Max.
Something is wrong.
He finishes his wine.
I finish mine.
What does he have to talk about that he can’t say? Max has always been good with words. Max has never had a problem speaking. He’s eloquent. He’s charming. Is that why I married him? Because he charmed me?
The waiter comes our way again. Max waves him off again.
It’s Sunday. The week is over. Whatever he has to say, he should say now.
“So,” he starts again.
And for all of the faults of our marriage, I never ever once thought that Max would ever divorce me … until now.
“I um …” he’s fumbling with his words. Something’s wrong. This isn’t like Max.
He couldn’t divorce me … could he?
He wouldn’t leave me … would he?
I can’t live without Max … can I?
“It’s Sunday.” He stares at me while the words leave my mouth. The week is over. Did he find out what he wanted to find out? Is that what’s leading to this talk?
“I know,” he nods and sighs and sits up. I think he’s done fumbling. I think he’s getting back to being Max again. “I know last week I told you that I was taking a week off,” he waits for confirmation.
I nod.
He leans forward, watching me, “I’m not going back.”
I sit.
“I quit the law firm,” he talks slow and he pauses every now and then, still watching me. “Something has come up. But I,” he sighs, “I wasn’t sure how to tell you because it’s a big decision and I didn’t know how you’d take it.”
I sit.
“I have to move to New York as soon as possible,” he’s still watching me.
I sit. I nod. My eyes drift downward.
“I want you to come with me,” he says it like an afterthought.
I feel him reaching for my hand.
It’s Sunday.
The week is over.
I pull my hand away.
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Last edited by Evelynn on Sat Feb 10, 2007 6:01 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Chapter Fifteen:
-------------------------------------------------
The clock reads five thirty AM, Monday morning. I’m not usually up at this time.
Did I even sleep?
No.
I’m sitting on the bed, on the edge, watching him pack.
He’s quiet. He’s watching me watch him while he goes back and forth packing shirt after shirt after pant after suit.
He already has one suitcase packed.
He’s working on his second.
I stare at him and he glances at me … like there’s something he wants to say.
Or am I just being hopeful?
He touched me in the middle of the night.
I wasn’t asleep. I couldn’t sleep. But I pretended. And Max knew. He always knows.
I felt his fingertips leaving trails of warmth down my neck, my shoulders and lower. Light touches that I wouldn’t have felt burning my body if I was asleep. But I wasn’t. And he knew. Even with my back to him, he’s always known.
My breath shallow, my mind gone, and my body on fire … just like the first time, like every time. Even after two years. The shameful way he can make me respond to him with just a touch, a kiss, a caress. He’s always known.
So when his fingers were content with what they’ve done, knowing only he could make me feel this type of want … need … he stopped. And my heart fell.
But I wouldn’t turn to him, wouldn’t beg him to stay.
Until his arms went around me, his breath burning me while his lips branded my skin, reminding me that I was his. Until I could think of nothing but the feel of him, and what he was doing to me.
If I had been asleep, he would have slowly teased me to my senses by now. But I wasn’t, so the heat was ten-fold. And he knew this. Has always known. Always will know how to turn my body aflame and make me lose all thought, all morals, and decency until it was too late.
Until breathing wasn’t even a necessity. All that mattered was him. Having him all around me and wanting more. A passionate greed to drink his kisses, burn for his touch, and feel his body with every inch of mine.
My body tingled and my senses were overfilled, yet craved more and more love from this man more than anything else. Needing him to feel complete. On the brink of insanity because I couldn’t have him until he was willing to give himself to me. Would only give of himself at his slow and agonizing pace.
So that time froze with him.
When he stopped, my body still ached for him, but my mind churned to wake from the haze he put it under.
He didn’t move. He just waited, watching me while I stared up at him, making out his features from the dim light shining through the window.
Uncertainty filling my heart while my body screamed for his possession. I could feel his want for me. I knew my need for him. But he kept waiting, his hand caressing my cheek, “Liz?”
I knew what he wanted. He knew what I needed. Has always known, as he stared down and I looked back at him, giving in, like he knew I would. Would always know, “I love you.”
His head lowered beside me. I could feel his jaw grinding together at my cheek, could see the muscles tightening at his neck. But he still waited, still wouldn’t give in to his want or my need.
Why?
“Say my name,” his voice rough and tight in my ear.
My body trembled. My brain couldn’t keep up. He’s never done this before. This isn’t like him. “I-”
His hands started caressing and teasing my body again. Blanketing me in the haze that made me yearn for more. More that he wouldn’t give. Unrelenting, “say it.”
My body aflame, my mind hazed, my need heightened. “Max.”
Until he finally gave in. Until he claimed me, my body trembling against his. Until I lost all my senses and he lost all his.
Until hours later when I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him pack his bags.
He’s quiet.
So am I.
He watches me.
And I stare at him.
He zips up his suitcase.
A sense of finality in the air.
His shoes are on, his bags are packed, keys in hand.
He’s staring at me and I’m watching him.
He steps closer to me.
I don’t move.
“I have to go,” he says.
“I’ll be back in a few days,” he says.
A few days is three to four, according to Max.
He stares. I watch, but I don’t move.
His hand reaches out to me, but I stay still, his fingers, warm against my cheek.
“Think it over,” there’s finality in his voice. “We can go or we can stay. It’s up to you.”
One kiss and he’s gone.
With me still sitting on the edge.
Finality in everything.
Mondays are lonely. Quiet. Cold.
-------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------
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Chapter Fifteen:
-------------------------------------------------
The clock reads five thirty AM, Monday morning. I’m not usually up at this time.
Did I even sleep?
No.
I’m sitting on the bed, on the edge, watching him pack.
He’s quiet. He’s watching me watch him while he goes back and forth packing shirt after shirt after pant after suit.
He already has one suitcase packed.
He’s working on his second.
I stare at him and he glances at me … like there’s something he wants to say.
Or am I just being hopeful?
He touched me in the middle of the night.
I wasn’t asleep. I couldn’t sleep. But I pretended. And Max knew. He always knows.
I felt his fingertips leaving trails of warmth down my neck, my shoulders and lower. Light touches that I wouldn’t have felt burning my body if I was asleep. But I wasn’t. And he knew. Even with my back to him, he’s always known.
My breath shallow, my mind gone, and my body on fire … just like the first time, like every time. Even after two years. The shameful way he can make me respond to him with just a touch, a kiss, a caress. He’s always known.
So when his fingers were content with what they’ve done, knowing only he could make me feel this type of want … need … he stopped. And my heart fell.
But I wouldn’t turn to him, wouldn’t beg him to stay.
Until his arms went around me, his breath burning me while his lips branded my skin, reminding me that I was his. Until I could think of nothing but the feel of him, and what he was doing to me.
If I had been asleep, he would have slowly teased me to my senses by now. But I wasn’t, so the heat was ten-fold. And he knew this. Has always known. Always will know how to turn my body aflame and make me lose all thought, all morals, and decency until it was too late.
Until breathing wasn’t even a necessity. All that mattered was him. Having him all around me and wanting more. A passionate greed to drink his kisses, burn for his touch, and feel his body with every inch of mine.
My body tingled and my senses were overfilled, yet craved more and more love from this man more than anything else. Needing him to feel complete. On the brink of insanity because I couldn’t have him until he was willing to give himself to me. Would only give of himself at his slow and agonizing pace.
So that time froze with him.
When he stopped, my body still ached for him, but my mind churned to wake from the haze he put it under.
He didn’t move. He just waited, watching me while I stared up at him, making out his features from the dim light shining through the window.
Uncertainty filling my heart while my body screamed for his possession. I could feel his want for me. I knew my need for him. But he kept waiting, his hand caressing my cheek, “Liz?”
I knew what he wanted. He knew what I needed. Has always known, as he stared down and I looked back at him, giving in, like he knew I would. Would always know, “I love you.”
His head lowered beside me. I could feel his jaw grinding together at my cheek, could see the muscles tightening at his neck. But he still waited, still wouldn’t give in to his want or my need.
Why?
“Say my name,” his voice rough and tight in my ear.
My body trembled. My brain couldn’t keep up. He’s never done this before. This isn’t like him. “I-”
His hands started caressing and teasing my body again. Blanketing me in the haze that made me yearn for more. More that he wouldn’t give. Unrelenting, “say it.”
My body aflame, my mind hazed, my need heightened. “Max.”
Until he finally gave in. Until he claimed me, my body trembling against his. Until I lost all my senses and he lost all his.
Until hours later when I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him pack his bags.
He’s quiet.
So am I.
He watches me.
And I stare at him.
He zips up his suitcase.
A sense of finality in the air.
His shoes are on, his bags are packed, keys in hand.
He’s staring at me and I’m watching him.
He steps closer to me.
I don’t move.
“I have to go,” he says.
“I’ll be back in a few days,” he says.
A few days is three to four, according to Max.
He stares. I watch, but I don’t move.
His hand reaches out to me, but I stay still, his fingers, warm against my cheek.
“Think it over,” there’s finality in his voice. “We can go or we can stay. It’s up to you.”
One kiss and he’s gone.
With me still sitting on the edge.
Finality in everything.
Mondays are lonely. Quiet. Cold.
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Last edited by Evelynn on Sat Feb 10, 2007 6:07 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Chapter Sixteen:
-------------------------------------------------
I couldn’t hear my father’s voice in my head today.
Coffee Mondays are filled with silence. But this one wasn’t calm or peaceful.
Things are different, but they are the same.
It’s Monday.
I was up at seven. I left the apartment by seven thirty. Two black coffees to-go. And here I am, sitting on a cold, hard bench, clouds all around me.
It’s routine. It’s comforting.
But the two cups of coffee are now getting cold, his and mine.
I can’t hear my father’s voice anymore.
He wasn’t the forceful type. He would only ever ask me questions. Would only ever help me solve my problems on my own.
But I couldn’t hear his voice.
My father has left me.
My mind is troubled. Confusion is everywhere. No answers are in sight. But he’s not here to help.
He’s always been there for me, even when he was gone.
His presence has always lingered.
But I can’t seem to find him.
I’m lost.
Where do I go from here?
The sky gets darker.
The wind blows harder.
I don’t stay for much longer.
There’s no point in staying when there’s no one here to listen, to comfort, to be with me.
Coffee Monday is lonelier than ever.
The apartment is cold by the time I get back. Cold and empty.
There are three messages on the machine.
“Liz, it’s your mother. I’m going with Richard out of town. I won’t be back for a while. I’m just calling to tell you because I didn’t want you to worry. And to let you know that I won’t be back for tea on Sunday.”
I hit the delete button.
Even my mother has left me.
For Richard.
“Liz … um, it’s Alex. I thought we could talk. I’m sorry about Saturday. I was … out of line. Let me apologize in person. Call me. Same number.”
Alex.
I hit the delete button.
“Liz, it’s your mother again. I need you to take care of your father’s plants while I’m out of town. Bye.”
I hit the delete button again.
I try not to think the thought. But it comes anyway.
Max didn’t call.
I half expected him to. Or I half hoped.
Either way, Max didn’t call.
Why would he? He only left me this morning.
Mother left to be with Richard.
Father left as well.
But Max leaving hurt most of all.
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Chapter Sixteen:
-------------------------------------------------
I couldn’t hear my father’s voice in my head today.
Coffee Mondays are filled with silence. But this one wasn’t calm or peaceful.
Things are different, but they are the same.
It’s Monday.
I was up at seven. I left the apartment by seven thirty. Two black coffees to-go. And here I am, sitting on a cold, hard bench, clouds all around me.
It’s routine. It’s comforting.
But the two cups of coffee are now getting cold, his and mine.
I can’t hear my father’s voice anymore.
He wasn’t the forceful type. He would only ever ask me questions. Would only ever help me solve my problems on my own.
But I couldn’t hear his voice.
My father has left me.
My mind is troubled. Confusion is everywhere. No answers are in sight. But he’s not here to help.
He’s always been there for me, even when he was gone.
His presence has always lingered.
But I can’t seem to find him.
I’m lost.
Where do I go from here?
The sky gets darker.
The wind blows harder.
I don’t stay for much longer.
There’s no point in staying when there’s no one here to listen, to comfort, to be with me.
Coffee Monday is lonelier than ever.
The apartment is cold by the time I get back. Cold and empty.
There are three messages on the machine.
“Liz, it’s your mother. I’m going with Richard out of town. I won’t be back for a while. I’m just calling to tell you because I didn’t want you to worry. And to let you know that I won’t be back for tea on Sunday.”
I hit the delete button.
Even my mother has left me.
For Richard.
“Liz … um, it’s Alex. I thought we could talk. I’m sorry about Saturday. I was … out of line. Let me apologize in person. Call me. Same number.”
Alex.
I hit the delete button.
“Liz, it’s your mother again. I need you to take care of your father’s plants while I’m out of town. Bye.”
I hit the delete button again.
I try not to think the thought. But it comes anyway.
Max didn’t call.
I half expected him to. Or I half hoped.
Either way, Max didn’t call.
Why would he? He only left me this morning.
Mother left to be with Richard.
Father left as well.
But Max leaving hurt most of all.
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Last edited by Evelynn on Sat Feb 10, 2007 6:11 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Chapter Seventeen:
-------------------------------------------------
He’s gone.
Wednesday came and left.
Max didn’t come home. He didn’t call.
A few days is three to four according to Max.
Thursday came and left.
Will he come back at all?
On Fridays, I meet with Laurie for coffee and cigarettes.
She was early. It wasn’t like her.
I sat down across from her.
She has three cups in front of her.
She’s reading a newspaper
She has a cigarette in her mouth.
She looks giddy
She’s blonde again.
“Being a brunette was dull. I like being a blond better,” she says without me having to ask the question.
“So … I have something to show you, Liz,” she says in this conspiratorial tone.
She downs one cup and drops it on the ground.
The girl behind the counter, Tess, will have to come out later to clean up.
“So, where’s Max?” she asks. She makes me tell her everything.
“Business trip,” I say, as I take a cigarette from the pack on the table, lighting it up and taking a drag.
“Really?” Her eyebrow raises.
What is she getting at?
“Well, check this out. Front page of the business section, pretty big news,” she says, sounding sarcastic, handing me the newspaper.
I stare at the picture.
He’s wearing one of his expensive suits, shaking hands with another man in a suit.
“It’s Max,” Laurie states the obvious. “I’ve already read it,” Laurie keeps talking, letting out a puff of smoke that blows my way.
“Rightful heir to multi-million dollar shipping company returns,” she says, but doesn’t need to. My eyes are already busy reading the text.
“Big news, huh?” she’s taunting me. “And earth to Liz, that blonde looking adoringly beside him is quite a hottie, isn’t she?”
I stop listening to her, my eyes staring at a picture of my husband, wearing his expensive suit, the blonde woman standing behind him, another man shaking his hand.
“You’re going to have to tell me your secret, Liz. How is it you manage to have these millionaires banging down your door?” she says, going on and on. “I mean Alex and Max.”
I don’t finish reading. I can’t finish. I hand her back the paper.
She pushes it back my way. “No, keep it. I have another copy.”
Laurie laughs an ugly laugh. “Multi-millionaire,” she’s smiling. I think she’s enjoying the word too much. “I can’t believe he never told you he came from a rich daddy like that.”
Max said his father passed away years ago. He said his mother passed away years before that. I didn’t question him about it. I didn’t think I had to.
“So what are you going to do now?” she drops her second cup on the ground and gulps at her last coffee.
Max … what’s going on?
“Earth to Liz,” she says that a lot. “He never told you about this. I mean, your marriage is pretty much based on lies.”
I thought our marriage was based on love.
“Divorce him!” she’s shouting. I sit. “Can you imagine how fat your alimony checks are going to be?”
Max … what’s going on?
“I mean, Earth to Liz, you’re wasting all this potential in your life. If I were you, I’d hire a good lawyer, divorce Max, take all his money, and hook up with Alex. Then I’d butter Alex up until he proposes, say yes this time, and after a year or so, when you’re bored with him, divorce him and take all his money too. And then go find yourself another millionaire because they seem to flock to you like a pack of seagulls,” she finishes her speech and gulps her coffee.
I shake my head.
Laurie is conniving.
She’s vindictive.
She’s my best friend. Or so she says.
I know different.
She rolls her eyes and I’m done. “God, you’re so unbelievable! If I were you-”
“You aren’t me.”
I’m done.
“Okay, fine,” she says, standing up. I think she gets the point. She drops her last coffee cup on the ground. “You know what? I have better places to be.” And she leaves.
I sit.
Max … what’s going on?
The girl behind the counter, Tess, comes out seconds later.
“Is she gone?” she asks.
I nod.
She sighs in relief. “Thank god. She’s such a bitch.”
Laurie left her cigarettes on the table.
She left her newspaper too.
“Hey, is that Max?” Tess asks, pointing at the paper.
I stand up to leave.
“Hey Liz,” she says, picking up the empty cups off the ground, “Max didn’t pay the tab yet and it’s the end of the month, not that the boss is worried or anything, but he just wanted me to remind you.” She smiles.
I nod. “Okay.”
From the moment I met Max, I never had to even think about money.
But Max isn’t here.
Max … what’s going on?
-------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------
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Chapter Seventeen:
-------------------------------------------------
He’s gone.
Wednesday came and left.
Max didn’t come home. He didn’t call.
A few days is three to four according to Max.
Thursday came and left.
Will he come back at all?
On Fridays, I meet with Laurie for coffee and cigarettes.
She was early. It wasn’t like her.
I sat down across from her.
She has three cups in front of her.
She’s reading a newspaper
She has a cigarette in her mouth.
She looks giddy
She’s blonde again.
“Being a brunette was dull. I like being a blond better,” she says without me having to ask the question.
“So … I have something to show you, Liz,” she says in this conspiratorial tone.
She downs one cup and drops it on the ground.
The girl behind the counter, Tess, will have to come out later to clean up.
“So, where’s Max?” she asks. She makes me tell her everything.
“Business trip,” I say, as I take a cigarette from the pack on the table, lighting it up and taking a drag.
“Really?” Her eyebrow raises.
What is she getting at?
“Well, check this out. Front page of the business section, pretty big news,” she says, sounding sarcastic, handing me the newspaper.
I stare at the picture.
He’s wearing one of his expensive suits, shaking hands with another man in a suit.
“It’s Max,” Laurie states the obvious. “I’ve already read it,” Laurie keeps talking, letting out a puff of smoke that blows my way.
“Rightful heir to multi-million dollar shipping company returns,” she says, but doesn’t need to. My eyes are already busy reading the text.
“Big news, huh?” she’s taunting me. “And earth to Liz, that blonde looking adoringly beside him is quite a hottie, isn’t she?”
I stop listening to her, my eyes staring at a picture of my husband, wearing his expensive suit, the blonde woman standing behind him, another man shaking his hand.
“You’re going to have to tell me your secret, Liz. How is it you manage to have these millionaires banging down your door?” she says, going on and on. “I mean Alex and Max.”
I don’t finish reading. I can’t finish. I hand her back the paper.
She pushes it back my way. “No, keep it. I have another copy.”
Laurie laughs an ugly laugh. “Multi-millionaire,” she’s smiling. I think she’s enjoying the word too much. “I can’t believe he never told you he came from a rich daddy like that.”
Max said his father passed away years ago. He said his mother passed away years before that. I didn’t question him about it. I didn’t think I had to.
“So what are you going to do now?” she drops her second cup on the ground and gulps at her last coffee.
Max … what’s going on?
“Earth to Liz,” she says that a lot. “He never told you about this. I mean, your marriage is pretty much based on lies.”
I thought our marriage was based on love.
“Divorce him!” she’s shouting. I sit. “Can you imagine how fat your alimony checks are going to be?”
Max … what’s going on?
“I mean, Earth to Liz, you’re wasting all this potential in your life. If I were you, I’d hire a good lawyer, divorce Max, take all his money, and hook up with Alex. Then I’d butter Alex up until he proposes, say yes this time, and after a year or so, when you’re bored with him, divorce him and take all his money too. And then go find yourself another millionaire because they seem to flock to you like a pack of seagulls,” she finishes her speech and gulps her coffee.
I shake my head.
Laurie is conniving.
She’s vindictive.
She’s my best friend. Or so she says.
I know different.
She rolls her eyes and I’m done. “God, you’re so unbelievable! If I were you-”
“You aren’t me.”
I’m done.
“Okay, fine,” she says, standing up. I think she gets the point. She drops her last coffee cup on the ground. “You know what? I have better places to be.” And she leaves.
I sit.
Max … what’s going on?
The girl behind the counter, Tess, comes out seconds later.
“Is she gone?” she asks.
I nod.
She sighs in relief. “Thank god. She’s such a bitch.”
Laurie left her cigarettes on the table.
She left her newspaper too.
“Hey, is that Max?” Tess asks, pointing at the paper.
I stand up to leave.
“Hey Liz,” she says, picking up the empty cups off the ground, “Max didn’t pay the tab yet and it’s the end of the month, not that the boss is worried or anything, but he just wanted me to remind you.” She smiles.
I nod. “Okay.”
From the moment I met Max, I never had to even think about money.
But Max isn’t here.
Max … what’s going on?
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Last edited by Evelynn on Sat Feb 10, 2007 6:17 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Chapter Eighteen:
-------------------------------------------------
The doorbell rang at five Saturday evening.
It wasn’t who I expected it to be.
She walked in the moment I open the door.
“So my trip was cut short,” she says, dropping her bag on the floor. “Make me a cup of coffee, Elizabeth.”
She only says my name like that when she’s upset.
She only drinks coffee when she’s upset.
She sits at the table.
I go to the kitchen.
“So my trip was cut short,” she repeats.
I start the coffee maker.
She’s waiting for me to ask the obvious. So I do. “What happened, mother?”
“Well, where to start?” She’s being overdramatic.
She’s only this way when she’s upset.
I put the creamer and sugar in front of her.
“How about, Richard Pierce is one arrogant, lying, cheating bastard?” she says.
I wait for her to continue.
Her coffee is brewing.
“Turns out, he has a woman in about every area code. And one of them followed us on our cruise.”
I pour her the coffee and place it in front of her.
“When the cruise ship stopped in the Bahamas, I took the first flight back here,” she just stirs her coffee, not really drinking it.
I sit and listen.
I only drink coffee on Mondays.
“I knew I never should have given in to him. I knew it.” She’s berating herself. “Men like that, with their charm and class and sophistication and money … men like that are never the faithful type.”
I sit and listen.
“I knew. I told myself to never get involved with that type. I’m smarter than this. I should know better. And to think I met him at a church social.” She’s shaking her head. “But he just … he just swept me off my feet.”
She spoons sugar into her cup.
I sit and listen.
“Your father would never have been like this. Small town men are always better than those sleazy, uptown, upscale, filthy rich, good-for-nothing, too handsome for their own good, bastards.”
She downs her cup of coffee.
And I sit. And I listen.
“But I guess everyone has to fall for one of those types once in their lifetime until they learn their lesson,” she sighs. She puts her cup down. She’s watching me.
I know what she’s thinking.
She won’t say it.
But I know.
“Where’s Max?” she asks the question, but she knows.
I stand from the table to refill her cup.
“Away on business again, is he?” She knows.
I set the cup down.
I sit.
“Have you talked to Alex lately?” she asks, spooning more sugar into her cup.
I sit and I listen.
“You know you’re lucky he’s still so interested in you.” She sips her coffee this time. “That’s the thing about small town men, they’re loyal. Maybe my mistake will teach you something.”
I stand from the table. I can’t listen anymore. “I’ll see you tomorrow, mother.”
She stands. She picks up her bag. “I should go home and unpack.”
I walk her to the door and watch her leave.
I head to the balcony fifteen minutes later.
Eddie smiles at me with a cigarette in his hand.
He waves.
The door bell rings.
I hear it from outside.
“Gentleman caller,” Eddie says, raising his eyebrows. “I saw him walking up with flowers.”
Max’s car isn’t in his usual spot.
I can see that from the driveway.
Eddie takes anther drag. “He took a taxi.”
I nod.
He smiles.
I go inside.
The doorbell rings again.
It isn’t who I expect it to be.
He’s dressed in an expensive suit.
He’s holding flowers in his hand.
He has a smile on his face.
“Hi, Liz.”
Alex.
“Can I come in?”
Alex.
I nod.
I step aside.
I open the door wider.
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Chapter Eighteen:
-------------------------------------------------
The doorbell rang at five Saturday evening.
It wasn’t who I expected it to be.
She walked in the moment I open the door.
“So my trip was cut short,” she says, dropping her bag on the floor. “Make me a cup of coffee, Elizabeth.”
She only says my name like that when she’s upset.
She only drinks coffee when she’s upset.
She sits at the table.
I go to the kitchen.
“So my trip was cut short,” she repeats.
I start the coffee maker.
She’s waiting for me to ask the obvious. So I do. “What happened, mother?”
“Well, where to start?” She’s being overdramatic.
She’s only this way when she’s upset.
I put the creamer and sugar in front of her.
“How about, Richard Pierce is one arrogant, lying, cheating bastard?” she says.
I wait for her to continue.
Her coffee is brewing.
“Turns out, he has a woman in about every area code. And one of them followed us on our cruise.”
I pour her the coffee and place it in front of her.
“When the cruise ship stopped in the Bahamas, I took the first flight back here,” she just stirs her coffee, not really drinking it.
I sit and listen.
I only drink coffee on Mondays.
“I knew I never should have given in to him. I knew it.” She’s berating herself. “Men like that, with their charm and class and sophistication and money … men like that are never the faithful type.”
I sit and listen.
“I knew. I told myself to never get involved with that type. I’m smarter than this. I should know better. And to think I met him at a church social.” She’s shaking her head. “But he just … he just swept me off my feet.”
She spoons sugar into her cup.
I sit and listen.
“Your father would never have been like this. Small town men are always better than those sleazy, uptown, upscale, filthy rich, good-for-nothing, too handsome for their own good, bastards.”
She downs her cup of coffee.
And I sit. And I listen.
“But I guess everyone has to fall for one of those types once in their lifetime until they learn their lesson,” she sighs. She puts her cup down. She’s watching me.
I know what she’s thinking.
She won’t say it.
But I know.
“Where’s Max?” she asks the question, but she knows.
I stand from the table to refill her cup.
“Away on business again, is he?” She knows.
I set the cup down.
I sit.
“Have you talked to Alex lately?” she asks, spooning more sugar into her cup.
I sit and I listen.
“You know you’re lucky he’s still so interested in you.” She sips her coffee this time. “That’s the thing about small town men, they’re loyal. Maybe my mistake will teach you something.”
I stand from the table. I can’t listen anymore. “I’ll see you tomorrow, mother.”
She stands. She picks up her bag. “I should go home and unpack.”
I walk her to the door and watch her leave.
I head to the balcony fifteen minutes later.
Eddie smiles at me with a cigarette in his hand.
He waves.
The door bell rings.
I hear it from outside.
“Gentleman caller,” Eddie says, raising his eyebrows. “I saw him walking up with flowers.”
Max’s car isn’t in his usual spot.
I can see that from the driveway.
Eddie takes anther drag. “He took a taxi.”
I nod.
He smiles.
I go inside.
The doorbell rings again.
It isn’t who I expect it to be.
He’s dressed in an expensive suit.
He’s holding flowers in his hand.
He has a smile on his face.
“Hi, Liz.”
Alex.
“Can I come in?”
Alex.
I nod.
I step aside.
I open the door wider.
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Last edited by Evelynn on Sat Feb 10, 2007 6:25 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Chapter Nineteen:
-------------------------------------------------
Alex stares when I step back into the living room, the flowers sitting on the coffee table.
He seems upset.
He isn’t upset often.
At least, he didn’t used to be, when he was around me.
“Your phone rang while you were in the bathroom,” he says, nodding toward the counter. “It was Max. He left a message.”
The light on the answering machine is blinking.
I nod.
He stares.
I sit on the couch. With Alex.
There’s space between us.
He scoots closer.
My cell phone goes off.
Alex watches me.
I know it’s Max.
He knows it’s Max.
I sit.
The ringing stops.
Alex stares.
There’s silence until he breaks it.
“Don’t you think that’s telling you something, Liz?” he says. He seems upset. “If you aren’t even willing to answer his calls?”
I shake my head.
Max hasn’t called all week.
“It tells you something is wrong with your marriage,” he keeps talking.
I don’t agree.
I don’t dispute.
I sit.
“Open your eyes, Liz,” he says. He seems upset. “You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve to be treated this way. Can’t you see that he’s probably cheating on you? That he’s probably been cheating on you? And you’re making it so easy for him to? Just sitting at home while he goes on his many business trips?”
I shake my head. Alex doesn’t know that-
“Nancy told me,” he interrupts. “How he’s always going out of town and how you’re always just here, just waiting for him to come back.”
Is that what I do? Wait?
“You’re better than this, Liz. You’re …” He’s breathing hard. He seems upset. “I just … I don’t like him. He isn’t good for you.”
I shake my head. “You don’t know him.” They’ve only met once. In passing.
“Play the damn message back!” he’s yelling. He’s upset. He’s pointing to the answering machine. “You can hear another woman laughing in the background, Liz. Put two and two together, baby.”
When we were together, Alex was nicer.
When we were together, Alex never yelled.
We aren’t together anymore.
I shake my head. “You don’t know him.”
He laughs. “And you do?”
I sit.
“You married him after two weeks!” Alex breaths hard. “We were together for two years before I proposed to you and you turned me down. But he asks you after two weeks and you say yes?!”
I sit.
I don’t speak.
There’s nothing to say.
“Things could be so different right now, Liz,” he whispers. “Your life and mine.”
He’s quiet.
He’s upset.
He’s hurt.
Because I said no.
“Why?” he keeps whispering, not looking at me. “After your father died, why didn’t you come to me? I would have helped you through it. I would have comforted you, taken care of you. Why him?”
He stares at me.
I don’t speak.
There’s nothing I can say.
Alex smiles a sad smile. “Things could be so different right now, Liz.”
I shake my head. “I need Max … to love me.”
He takes my hand. “I love you.”
I know.
I pull my hand away.
“I’m sorry.”
It’s all I can say.
The phone rings.
I take the call in the kitchen.
Alex watches me.
Max’s voice is on the line. “Liz?”
I nod. “Max.”
“I’ve been trying to call you. I was half expecting to get the machine again. I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier this week,” he’s apologizing. “And I’m sorry I didn’t come home. I know I said a few days, but it’s just been so busy. It’s been frantic here. There’s so much to do. I’ve been working non-stop …”
He takes a breath. I can hear him smiling over the phone.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner,” he apologizes again. “There’s just … so much to be done.”
Alex walks into the kitchen. I watch him. He stares at the phone.
Max’s voice picks up again. “Are you feeling okay? I mean … I had this weird dream … and … it freaked me out …”
Alex smiles a sad smile.
I watch him.
I can hear Max sigh. “I know, you say you’re fine, but … Liz, you really should go see-” Max cuts off.
Because Alex says loudly, “Lizzie, baby? Who are you talking to?”
I stare at him.
He’s playing with fire.
And he knows it.
There’s silence on the line. “… Liz? … … Who is that?”
I close my eyes. My throat is dry. “Alex.”
More silence. “… It’s late. … What is he doing there?”
It isn’t late. It’s only seven.
I stare at him.
Alex smiles a sad smile.
“What’s he doing there, Liz?” Max repeats.
I stare while I talk into the phone. “He’s visiting.”
More silence. “… … … I’m coming home.”
The phone hangs up. The line goes dead.
I put the phone down on the counter.
I stare at him.
He smiles a sad smile.
“Alex …”
“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” he says, and walks away.
He holds the door open, turning back toward me.
“I accept that … that maybe Max Evans has something that I don’t. But … for whatever reason it is that you said yes to him and not me … I hope it’s worth all this pain that you’re putting yourself through.”
I don’t say anything.
There’s nothing I can say.
There’s nothing to say.
Alex smiles a sad smile.
“I won’t bother you anymore.”
He leaves.
-------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------
Chapter Nineteen:
-------------------------------------------------
Alex stares when I step back into the living room, the flowers sitting on the coffee table.
He seems upset.
He isn’t upset often.
At least, he didn’t used to be, when he was around me.
“Your phone rang while you were in the bathroom,” he says, nodding toward the counter. “It was Max. He left a message.”
The light on the answering machine is blinking.
I nod.
He stares.
I sit on the couch. With Alex.
There’s space between us.
He scoots closer.
My cell phone goes off.
Alex watches me.
I know it’s Max.
He knows it’s Max.
I sit.
The ringing stops.
Alex stares.
There’s silence until he breaks it.
“Don’t you think that’s telling you something, Liz?” he says. He seems upset. “If you aren’t even willing to answer his calls?”
I shake my head.
Max hasn’t called all week.
“It tells you something is wrong with your marriage,” he keeps talking.
I don’t agree.
I don’t dispute.
I sit.
“Open your eyes, Liz,” he says. He seems upset. “You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve to be treated this way. Can’t you see that he’s probably cheating on you? That he’s probably been cheating on you? And you’re making it so easy for him to? Just sitting at home while he goes on his many business trips?”
I shake my head. Alex doesn’t know that-
“Nancy told me,” he interrupts. “How he’s always going out of town and how you’re always just here, just waiting for him to come back.”
Is that what I do? Wait?
“You’re better than this, Liz. You’re …” He’s breathing hard. He seems upset. “I just … I don’t like him. He isn’t good for you.”
I shake my head. “You don’t know him.” They’ve only met once. In passing.
“Play the damn message back!” he’s yelling. He’s upset. He’s pointing to the answering machine. “You can hear another woman laughing in the background, Liz. Put two and two together, baby.”
When we were together, Alex was nicer.
When we were together, Alex never yelled.
We aren’t together anymore.
I shake my head. “You don’t know him.”
He laughs. “And you do?”
I sit.
“You married him after two weeks!” Alex breaths hard. “We were together for two years before I proposed to you and you turned me down. But he asks you after two weeks and you say yes?!”
I sit.
I don’t speak.
There’s nothing to say.
“Things could be so different right now, Liz,” he whispers. “Your life and mine.”
He’s quiet.
He’s upset.
He’s hurt.
Because I said no.
“Why?” he keeps whispering, not looking at me. “After your father died, why didn’t you come to me? I would have helped you through it. I would have comforted you, taken care of you. Why him?”
He stares at me.
I don’t speak.
There’s nothing I can say.
Alex smiles a sad smile. “Things could be so different right now, Liz.”
I shake my head. “I need Max … to love me.”
He takes my hand. “I love you.”
I know.
I pull my hand away.
“I’m sorry.”
It’s all I can say.
The phone rings.
I take the call in the kitchen.
Alex watches me.
Max’s voice is on the line. “Liz?”
I nod. “Max.”
“I’ve been trying to call you. I was half expecting to get the machine again. I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier this week,” he’s apologizing. “And I’m sorry I didn’t come home. I know I said a few days, but it’s just been so busy. It’s been frantic here. There’s so much to do. I’ve been working non-stop …”
He takes a breath. I can hear him smiling over the phone.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner,” he apologizes again. “There’s just … so much to be done.”
Alex walks into the kitchen. I watch him. He stares at the phone.
Max’s voice picks up again. “Are you feeling okay? I mean … I had this weird dream … and … it freaked me out …”
Alex smiles a sad smile.
I watch him.
I can hear Max sigh. “I know, you say you’re fine, but … Liz, you really should go see-” Max cuts off.
Because Alex says loudly, “Lizzie, baby? Who are you talking to?”
I stare at him.
He’s playing with fire.
And he knows it.
There’s silence on the line. “… Liz? … … Who is that?”
I close my eyes. My throat is dry. “Alex.”
More silence. “… It’s late. … What is he doing there?”
It isn’t late. It’s only seven.
I stare at him.
Alex smiles a sad smile.
“What’s he doing there, Liz?” Max repeats.
I stare while I talk into the phone. “He’s visiting.”
More silence. “… … … I’m coming home.”
The phone hangs up. The line goes dead.
I put the phone down on the counter.
I stare at him.
He smiles a sad smile.
“Alex …”
“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” he says, and walks away.
He holds the door open, turning back toward me.
“I accept that … that maybe Max Evans has something that I don’t. But … for whatever reason it is that you said yes to him and not me … I hope it’s worth all this pain that you’re putting yourself through.”
I don’t say anything.
There’s nothing I can say.
There’s nothing to say.
Alex smiles a sad smile.
“I won’t bother you anymore.”
He leaves.
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Last edited by Evelynn on Sat Feb 10, 2007 6:31 am, edited 2 times in total.