E.C. Stilson's Blog, page 57

Fractured Fairy Tales: Little Red Riding Hood

LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD

SIXTEEN

To read this story from the beginning, please go HERE
This is a work of fiction based on a true story....    

Mark and I decided to hang out the following weekend. My ex-husband had the kids and so I brought Mark to one of my favorite hidden trails. The pathway started between overgrown bushes just behind a playground at the base of the Rocky Mountain Range.
    "In there?" Mark asked.
    I grabbed his hand and pulled him in. I felt as if going through the wardrobe to Narnia. But when we emerged from the tangled leaves, the two of us found ourselves in a wooded spring forest instead of an icy winter.
    I glanced back at Mark, then started dragging him down the hill to the bigger trail. Birds chirped, leaves rustled, and Mark laughed.
    I tromped along. "You are such a spitfire!" he said.
    "You're the one who does this to me! I was quiet and sweet 'til I met you."
    "Quiet, huh? I doubt that."
    "Mark, I WAS quiet—still can be when I want... The kindest person you've ever meet, like a fairytale creature, or a princess or something."
    "I can only imagine. You're a redhead for a reason, my little Gina."
    "Hold up! Your little Gina?" The fact that he'd called me "little"—well, that made me angry. "I'm not little! I'm tall, and intimidating, and capable, and…"
    He breathed in, his eyes widening before he chuckled so hard I thought he might die from laughter. "And quiet? And sweet?" he asked, merriment filling his voice.
    I wanted to wipe that grin off his face. "You, are offensive. Mark, you better make up for this."
    "And how am I gonna do that?" 
    I thought of something fast. "Tell me a story." I grabbed his hands. "Something romantic and fun! Something with us in it?"
    "You are such a kid."
    "Come on, Mark, live a little," I said, knowing he hated hearing stuff like that from me. He took the bait almost immediately as we walked along the sunlit forest floor.
    "Well, once upon a time, there was a beautiful redhead, named Little Red Riding Hood."
    "This is supposed to be about us!" I objected—sheesh—didn't he know how to stick to the plan.
    "This is about us. Didn't you hear me say little and redhead?"
    I groaned. "Fine. Go on."


    "Well, Little Red hadn't found her one true love yet. And her granny thought it was about time. So she sent for Little Red and asked her to walk through the scary forest. Granny had heard stories about a charming prince who lived in the woods nearby."
    "You're ridiculous." I scoffed.
    "Why?"
    "'Cause real princes don't just live in the woods."
    "I didn't say one did. I said Granny had heard that rumor." Suddenly Mark was right in my face. His blue eyes stared down at me as his voice went low and terrible. "But a prince did not live in the woods. It was really a big, terrifying WOLF!"
    This was getting real. "Wait a minute. If you're changing the story, you can't send me into a forest with a terrifying wolf."
    Mark turned to me so fast—I hadn't expected it—that's when a deep growl left his throat.
    "Holy shit!" I screamed and jumped without thinking about it. "You're the wolf?!"
    "You better run, Little Red! Or I'll huff and I'll puff."
    This was not the fairytale I remembered, but it was kind of hilarious because for some reason, I did feel a little scared, and silly, and young...again. Mark chased after me. We ran past a dried out stream and into a darker area of the forest. Twigs snapped and birds stopped chirping as we ran by. I treaded through some weeds and jumped over a fallen tree. 
    But Mark wasn't anywhere to be seen when I finally looked back. "Mark?" I yelled after a minute. "Mark?!" Something crunched near me and I turned, but nothing was there. The forest loomed, quiet in fear. My heart beat fast and hard, and I honestly felt like Red Riding Hood, in a forsaken forest, being hunted by a wolf. 
    I shook my head, thinking about Mark. His sense of play and the way his eyes lit up when he teased me. Where was he? "Mark?" I cried out, actually starting to worry. He should have been able to hear me.
    "Mar—"
    Another twig snapped and I turned just in time to see Mark grabbing my hands and holding them behind my back. "Are you Little Red?" he asked in an even deeper voice than normal.
    "Are you the Big Bad Wolf?" I asked, melting, feeling his strong arms against the sides of my waist as he continued holding my hands behind my back.
    "This isn't about me, Ma'am. Are you Little Red?"
    "Ummm, yes?" I giggled.
    "You're under arrest, for trespassing in the Forbidden Forest."
    "What? That's not how the story goes!"
    "Too bad. What are you gonna do about it now? You've just been taken hostage by the Big Bad Wolf."
    "Is there any way you'd let me off with a warning?"
    "Hhhmmm." He thought for a moment and let go of my hands. "How about a kiss on the cheek?"
    "Close your eyes," I said.
    He closed them. I went on tip-toes, about to kiss his cheek when I had another idea. I suddenly slapped him on the butt so hard my hand hurt. Then I ran off into the forest.
    After a second, I slowed to a walk and Mark caught up to me, limping and holding his butt as if he'd been kicked by a horse.
    "Oh, dear, sweet, Mark—I mean—Big Bad Wolf. Are you gonna be okay? Did you run into the badass of the forest?"
    He grimaced at me. "No more stories for me!"
    The farther we walked, the more I noticed how trashed the area became. "Look at all of this litter."
    "It's terrible. Looks like a lot of kids have been up here recently. Did you see the tagging up ahead?"
    I shook my head and squinted up the trail. It was a dismal sight; someone had spray painted rocks and trees, everything near a place where the canyon's runoff used to come straight from the mountains under a bridge. The water had been rerouted though, probably due to all of the trash.
    "I can't believe someone would do this," I said.
    "It's disgusting how people don't care."
    "I've been let down more times than I can say. I still can't understand how easily people can do things like this to our world, or each other. It's hard knowing who to trust these days."
    "Well, I hope you know you can trust me," he said.
    "And you know you can trust me too?" I asked. "Unless someone does something unforgivable to me, I'll have their back for life."
    "Same here," he said.
    We started walking back after that. Seeing all the litter was too depressing especially after being in the untainted Forbidden Forest.
    Mark held my hand as we walked slowly along the path. I thought of him running through the forest and chuckled without noticing.
    "What are you thinking about?" he asked.
    "Just about how much fun you are. I've never met someone like you before."
    "Gina, I'm just an average guy."
    "You…are not!"
    "Ya know, sometimes I worry. You've been in so many bad relationships, always dating the 'bad boys,' I don't think you know what it's like dating a normal, good guy. What happens when you find out I'm a dime a dozen?"
    "You are the rarest kind of man, the kind who is capable, hardworking, but can still play and be a kid. The kind of guy who is willing to spend time with me and my four kids, making me think you might care about us even though I don't have a ton to offer you right now. All I have to offer is love."
    "And that's what I want. That isn't some little thing. Gina, to love and be loved…that's the most anyone can hope for." I hugged him so hard.
    A few leaves fell around us. Birds sang. And scant light cascaded through the branches of the overhanging trees.
    "How did I get so lucky?" he whispered in my ear. "Even if things don't work out between us, I'm thankful for these moments with you. But really I hope this'll never end."
    "Me too," I whispered back, and kissed him on the cheek. "But, Mark, I'm the lucky one."
    His arms slid gently across my skin until they rested on the small of my back. He leaned down and softly kissed me.
    "You know," I said, breathless. "For a Big Bad Wolf, you aren't so bad."
    "You liked my story, didn't you?"
    "Maybe a little too much!" I smiled.

If you could think of one word to describe yourself, what would it be?

.
NINE MILE CANYON

FIFTEEN

To read this story from the beginning, please go HERE
This is a work of fiction based on a true story....   

But I didn't tell Mark about the texts. Every time I'd start, he'd say something hilarious, or snuggle with me—or something infuriatingly cute! I was so worried though: Would every guy—given the chance—really cheat? And would Mark break up with me if I told him about the texts? After all I had more baggage than he'd ever dreamed of.
    In an effort to talk with him about things, I asked him to take a road-trip with me. "It's time for you to meet my cousin, Rachel," I said as we loaded into my van. "She's like a sister to me. And she has the best intuition about people."
    Mark seemed amused. "Oh, really. So she's gonna ask me a lot of questions, huh."
    "Sure is." I smiled; this would be fun.
    We arrived in Price nearly four hours later. The drive had gone relatively fast. Mark and I had gotten to be such good friends in the previous months, we didn't need to always talk. There was a certain peace to the quiet times sitting next to him—I'd rather be quiet with him, than talking with anyone else. Too bad the silence was so comfortable that I didn't tell him about the texts.
    It was spring and as we drove through the winding desert canyon, bunches of wildflowers peaked out of the sagebrush hills. I cranked up the music and Mark and I caught ourselves singing the lyrics at the exact same time. I looked at him once and blushed—he made life feel like such an adventure.
    After we got to Rachel's, she and her three daughters hugged me hard. Then Rachel pulled her sunglasses down her nose and gave Mark a quick once-over. That's when they told us to get into their car. Mark shot me a questioning look, but I just shrugged—I had no idea either.
    Rachel and her gorgeous daughters claimed the front and very back of the three-row vehicle, so Mark and I took the middle seats. "Umm…. What's going on?" I asked Rachel as she handed each of us a packet of papers.
    "We're going to Nine Mile Canyon. You're stuck in here with me." She locked the doors and hit the gas so hard we flew into the seatbacks. "Those packets have all the cool facts about the place. But the real reason for this is so I can ask some questions."
    Mark looked at me and whispered with mirth in his voice, "I can see why you like her so much."
    "There will be no whispering," Rachel said. And I expected her to start asking questions, but she didn't for a while. Instead we drove straight into the desert where sandstone walls loomed and new petroglyphs waited around every corner.



    She pulled over at one point and we all got out to explore the petroglyphs up close. I spotted little buffalo, bighorn sheep, horses, and people painted onto the rock-faces. Mark visited with Rachel's daughters, and that's when she pulled me aside. "You really like this guy?"
    I bit my lip and nodded. "But I have so much baggage, Rachel."
    "It's that idiot you were dating before! I didn't like him from the very beginning."
    I'd brought The Schmuck down there for a wedding. "He practically met most of our extended family. Rachel—he'd been living with his wife the whole time."
    "I know," she said in a monotone, "you've told me—a million times." She smiled, teasing me. "You know why I didn't like The Schmuck at first?" she asked.
    I shook my head. "Why?"
    "Well, when I met him, I asked him if he could think of one word to describe you. Wanna know what he said?"
    I wanted to shake my head "no"—a bit scared to hear the truth. I studied my cousin. She's absolutely gorgeous with dark brown hair and green eyes. She turns heads wherever she goes, but the thing is that she has one of the best personalities out there. She can make anyone laugh. She's super down-to-earth AND you know if she has your back, she has it forever. I finally nodded; Rachel wanted the best for me, and I could handle whatever she had to tell me. "One word to describe me, huh? What did he say?"
    "He looked you up and down from across the room, then said in a really gross voice, 'One word? I'd say she's too much'…that's not love—heck it wasn't even one word! The man was a user. A narcissist. He told me all about his past. Gina, don't feel bad you believed his lies. He was just one of the jocks who never grew up past high school—his best days will always be when he was playing basketball, the star of the team, getting girls, and being the center of attention."
    I touched a petroglyph on a wall near us; it was of a horned man who held a bow and arrow, pointing it at a big buck. 
    "And Mark, what do you think of him?" I asked.
    We looked at him; he'd just said something to Rachel's daughters and they all laughed.
    "I'm not sure yet. But I want you to pay attention on the way back to my house. When he answers questions, do they sound like he cares about you, really cares? If he answers poorly, maybe he isn't the guy for you."
    So, that was pretty intense. As I watched Mark marvel over the rocky walls, climb over boulders, play with the girls, and smile at me whenever our eyes met, I hoped he'd answer the questions well when we got back into the car. But honestly, I didn't know what he'd say. Maybe Mark thought I was "too much" too.
    Copper-colored dust swirled as we opened the car's doors. Mark sat down, smiling, not knowing what was about to hit him. Rachel locked the doors and drove much slower than she had on the way into the canyon.
    "What are your intentions with my cousin?" she asked, suddenly.
    Mark's eyes widened. "Well, I'm looking for a companion, someone who's willing to experience life with me, who makes life better for me—the same way I want to make it better for them."
    She nodded as if waiting for him to go on.
    "And I feel like Gina—and her children—make life better. They inspire me. Give me more of a sense of purpose. And all I can hope is that I enrich their lives as well."
    My heart swelled. I had been through so much with my children. Somedays I felt like we couldn't take on any more stress, that one more trial would break me. My life could be a mess of chaotic moments between balancing time with my children, work, school... I didn't feel like a "catch," but instead looked at myself as a husk of shattered dreams. 
    I stared out the car window and tried keeping the tears from my eyes. I could hardly believe Mark had come into my life and that he saw me as someone much stronger and worthwhile than I felt—a companion, a life-mate, someone who could even be enriching. But his answer hadn't solely touched me because of what he said about me; tears brimmed my eyes again because I thought of what he said about my children. They needed a caring man in their lives. As much as it shocked me to admit it, we needed Mark, and maybe he really needed us too.
    Time passed. We talked about life and how strange it can be. Rachel shared some stories about her past and how people should look at relationships as a team effort instead of individual achievement. I nodded.
    "It's kind of like a two-legged race. If you're tied to someone, wouldn't you want to be tied to someone who you are the most compatible with, who makes you better, who you know you can actually finish the race with?" I asked.
    Mark and Rachel both agreed that few people look at it that way anymore, even if people should.
    Right after we pulled into Rachel's driveway, she turned off the car and asked Mark one last question. "If you could think of one word to describe Gina, what would it be?"
    I waited, terrified for the answer. This single answer wouldn't tell much about me, but it would tell nearly everything about him. It could show his true motives.
    We all waited quietly, even Rachel's three daughters. Finally Mark looked at me and said, "Indescribable." Then he paused as if that wasn't good enough. "Unbelievable."
    I hugged Rachel and told her girls goodbye. Mark said his farewells and waited for me in the van.
    "So?" I whispered, on her front porch.
    "Call me sometime next week," she said. "I think this one shows some promise, but there are a few things I'd like to talk with you about him."
    Mark and I drove home, chattering the whole way about the beauty of southern Utah. But I kept wondering about what my cousin wanted to talk with me about. Had she seen something in Mark that I couldn’t see yet?

Hard to stick to your word....

IT'S OFFICIAL

FOURTEEN

To read this story from the beginning, please go HERE
This is a work of fiction based on a true story.... 

Shortly after the interlude on the tramp, I sent out a mass message—again—to everyone I knew:
You know how I said I wouldn't get in a serious relationship for a year?
    Well, I always meet my goals, stick to my word, and try my hardest.
    When I said I'd work every day for a year straight, I did. When I said I'd lose 60 pounds after having my first daughter, I lost the weight in a few short months. I pushed and got my college degree in record time.... I pride myself on making goals and meeting deadlines.
    But suddenly I don't think I can meet my new goal—to stay out of a serious relationship for a year—'cause I met someone so wonderful that I'm actually willing to bend the rules for him...
    And that alone tells me more than anything.
    Dating is like going skydiving; it's so hard jumping out of that plane, but if you have the guts, it can be AMAZING.

    I was completely ecstatic—over-the-moon in love. Mark and I went everywhere and seemed to do everything together on his days off. And I thought my children might love him even more than I did—which was nearly impossible! It wasn't until one of his days working, that I wondered if I'd made the right choice by dating him.
    My mom and I sat at a quaint Mexican restaurant. I ate a smothered burrito oozing with cheese. I was just about to take another bite when my phone dinged, notifying me of a new text message. "It's from my friend, Tony, who knows The Schmuck," I told my mom. "I wonder what he's up to." I opened the text and read the words aloud to my mom. "Some men don't like it when a girl who was theirs starts dating someone else."
    "What is that supposed to mean?" My mom looked irate.
    "He's referring to me and The Schmuck, but what I don't understand is that he never sends messages like this. If he ever texts me he sends silly quotes and jokes. Plus, he knows about Mark and he sounded happy for me the last time I talked with him."
    "That's weird."
    "Maybe it isn't him! Wait, I have an idea…."
    "Gina, don't text him back! I really don't think you should respond—he's just as bad as The Schmuck, they're friends for a reason."
    I ignored my mom and texted back:
Where are you?
    My phone dinged with a response. It was a picture of a horse in the mountains. 



    "Oh my gosh," I gasped, "I think The Schmuck is texting me from his friend's phone! Look—remember the text I told you about back in February?"
    "How The Schmuck sent you a picture of a horse in the mountains?" she asked.
    I showed her the picture on my phone.
    "He is so weird! Gina, don't reply."
    "But what if it is his friend?"
    "You know it's not!" She looked ready to strangle me from the other side of the table. "You're encouraging him if you text back!"
    But I typed regardless….
I don't belong to ANYONE.
Why won't your friend leave me alone?

    A response came rather quickly again.
He said your cut from the same clothe, you and him.
You know his divorce will be final in two weeks?

    "It is The Schmuck—he doesn't know the difference between your and you are, but our mutual friend does. Look at how he spelled cloth!" I said. My mom gasped—because grammar is a big deal. 
    After reading the message aloud, I turned wide-eyed to my mother. "You don't think it's true about his divorce? I hope I'm not the cause of it. Once, his wife called me…a home wrecker."
    "Don't think that for a second! If they're getting divorced it's because he's a cheater. He lied to you, honey. You didn't know." My mom paused as if not wanting to say something. "I hate what a small world it is sometimes."
    "Why would you say that?"
    "You know the lady who dyes my hair?"
    "Yeah." I nodded.
    "Well, I've been telling her about The Schmuck for months. I was telling her something last week and, come to find out, she knows him—she's a good family friend."
    "Mom, you're kidding me?"
    She shook her head.
    "Why does everyone know each other in this stupid town?!" I slid my plate away and stared at the ice in my drink. "You've got me curious now; what did she tell you?" I asked, nearly breathless.
    "She didn't say much, just that The Schmuck and his wife have both gone crazy. And that he really was living with her the whole time."
    "Mom, is there something wrong with me? Why would someone do this to me? Or maybe it's just men? Maybe they're all cheaters." I thought about Mark and could've cried wondering if he'd ever cheat on me too.
    "Not all men are like that, sweetheart. You can't judge everyone just because you've had a few bad experiences. Your new guy seems like a keeper."
    "But what if he hurts me? Mom, I'm starting to care about him more than any guy I've ever been with. The way he looks at me. How he plays with the kids and spends so much time with me—we like all the same things. I can't go through all that pain again."
    "Maybe it's time for you to have some faith."
    I hadn't responded to the texts for a while, but still my phone dinged after a time.

My friend is a good man. And he knows your better
with him there to protect you.
Why would you settle for someone else?

    My mom watched me fume from across the table.
Tell "your friend" that I would never settle.
The guy I'm dating is AMAZING, a genuinely good man.
He would never cheat on anyone—unlike some people I've known.
Plus, my boyfriend seems to love me and my kids too.
    I continued typing, growing more furious by the minute….
I don't need "your friend." If he has something to talk about,
he needs to talk to HIS WIFE!!!

    The reply was unnerving.
He wants to keep you safe.
He won't leave you alone unless you promise
to see him one last time to say goodby.

And if I do this?

If you can look him in the face and tell him your really done,
if you don't have feelings for him anymore,
you'll never hear from him again.

I'm telling you now that I don't have feelings for him.
No thanks.

I don't believe you.
He'll never leave you alone,
Unless you tell him in person.
And one last thing, Sunshine,
every man cheats.
You might think you've found yourself
a nice guy,
but this "good" man your dating,
he's just putting on a "good" show.

    I read the entire thing to my mom, slammed my cell on the table, and cupped my face in my hands. "Why won't he leave me alone?"
    "I don't know, Gina. But maybe you should take a screenshot of that and send it to his wife? From everything I've heard, they're still married with no plans of getting divorced. You still have her Facebook info or email address?"
    I nodded. "I just need to unblock her. I think you're onto something." I sipped some of my diet coke. "Remember how you train dogs; keep spraying vinegar in their face and soon enough, they'll stop doing bad things? This'll be like spraying The Schmuck with vinegar."
    "Right!"
    So I quickly took screenshots and emailed them to his wife. "I can't deal with this stress! What if she responds blaming me for everything—what if she shows up at my house again?"
    Another thought must have hit my mom. "Gina, you would never meet with The Schmuck again? You don't even know if that was him for sure. For all we know, it was his wife."
    "I know—they're like freaky characters in Grimm's Fairytales! I don't wanna see him for as long as I live."
    "I'm glad," she said. "I think you have a good thing going with Mark. I'd hate to see The Schmuck ruin it."
    "I think that's what he's hoping for. I better tell Mark on his next day off and see what he thinks about all of this."

How to Know When You're Ready For a Relationship

 Continued from yesterday....

THE TRAMPOLINE (Part Two)

THIRTEEN

To read this story from the beginning, please go HERE
This is a work of fiction based on a true story....  

Mark and my kids sounded as if having a frat party. The scented richness of boiling spaghetti sauce hit me as soon as I entered the front room. I thought about Mark. My twelve-year-old hadn't hugged him yet, but she'd told me multiple times how much she liked him AND his cooking. That kid was cautious; I could trust her instincts even more than my own!
    I studied Mark and my kids throughout dinner. They laughed, joking about how the noodles looked like sea creatures and how the spaghetti sauce was really red goo from the planet Goo-land. Mark could be such a kid, which my children loved, yet he could also be so responsible, make me feel safe, even protect me—in the avalanche. What an interesting man, I thought as he helped me clear the table and do the dishes later that night.  Maybe I was finally dating "the good guy." It wasn't the roller coaster of a relationship that I was used to, and although life no longer had drastic highs and lows, this change could be fun.
    My ex-husband picked up all four children while we'd been doing dishes. My three youngest kids hugged Mark goodbye, my oldest waved enthusiastically and smiled. I always had a hard time seeing them go, but realizing how excited they were to visit their father, that made things a little easier.
    After they left, I continued washing the dishes. Mark sang as we worked side-by-side loading the dishwasher. At one point I turned to him. "You. Are. So different from what I'm used to! Goo-land? Nice."
    I held a pan up, trying to hang it from a hook on the ceiling, but I couldn't quite loop the handle because of the height. Completely tip-toed, I almost had it when Mark reached up and hooked it quite easily. He grinned down at me; his bushy beard looked even longer as he smiled at my still-extended arms. That's when he slid his hands tenderly around my waist and turned me toward him. 
    Goosebumps raised all over my body; his huge (albeit soapy) hands made me feel tiny when he touched me. "Gina," his eyes shone when he said it, "I love watching you play with your kids—you're such a good mom." I blinked and turned my face down shyly. I'd been given some compliments, but none quite like that.
    I bit my lip. "How is it that you always know what to say? You…. You're so damn likable!"
    "Likable!" He had this gruff way of talking when he teased me and it drove me crazy.
    "Yeah! I'm minding my own business doing dishes, when suddenly—" But I never finished the sentence because his lips met mine. His left hand wrapped around my lower back, pulling me toward him, and his right hand grasped the back of my neck, reeling me in.
    His lips were so soft. His touch so warm. I couldn't even think as he gently lifted me onto the counter and continued kissing me. My fingers clutched the side of his shirt as I yanked him closer to me. Before I knew it, my legs wrapped around his waist, and I couldn't have let him go if I'd wanted to.
    With our lips barely touching, we breathed eachothers' breath in and out, and I felt him smile. 
    "You!" he sighed. "I'm falling too fast for you," he said.
    He backed away after a moment, breathing hard, looking wild with his dark brown hair messy from his hand just running through it. His blue eyes filled with mischief; his boyish sense of fun yet hypnotic masculinity took my breath away. 
    Maybe neither one of us were ready for a relationship, yet here we were. Him, coming over every chance he got. Me, realizing he embodied everything I'd ever wanted in a man; at least I hoped that's who he truly was. I never wanted him to change....   
    We were all alone in the house—for the first time since Valentine's Day—and it was nerve-racking being alone with him. "Wanna...watch a movie?" I asked nervously.
    We went to the front room, but I never made it to the TV. Instead he twirled me into a sitting position on top of him; we kissed forever, me kissing his ears, him kissing my neck over and over until I felt like I might burst. At one point he stood. "I've gotta go to the bathroom. Don't go anywhere?"
    "Okay," I whispered. But as soon as he left, I had other plans. I found a thick blanket, wrapped it around myself, and ran outside to where the tramp nestled against a huge wall on the north side of the house. 
    I'd left the backdoor open in the hopes that Mark would know where I'd gone. So I rested in the warmth of the fleece fabric, biting my lip anxiously the whole time I waited.


    It was so cold that my breath swam around. The stars peered down knowingly, they must see so many shivering souls out at night. 
    I sighed; it was hard to believe I was in my thirties, yet falling in love as if it were the first time.
    My nerves overcame me as my eyes kept watch over shimmering constellations.
    After a time, Mark sauntered from the back door. Once he'd realized where I was, that man laughed; it was such a deep sound echoing toward me, I grinned in the darkness.
    He jumped onto the tramp in one motion, then instead of being romantic, he started bouncing me in the blanket!
    "You're gonna bounce me to death!" I hollered, wrapped like a freakin' cocoon, shooting up into the air sideways.
    Gathering my wits, I finally stood, still wrapped in my blanket and ready to take his bounce away.  I shed the blanket, grabbed his hands and felt the air rush past me as we bounced together higher and higher. Memories of jumping on the tramp as a kid came to my mind. I remembered what it felt like being so young and free.  I couldn't believe how long it had been since I'd done something like this, without worrying about a thing. 
    My eyes met Mark's. He really did bring out the best in everyone, make them remember what it was like to be a kid.  He was already enriching my children's lives, just like he'd begun inevitable to enrich mine.
    I tripped him, actually tripped that man, then fell on top of him as he grabbed my hand and pulled me on top of him.
    A snort left my mouth, I belly-laughed so hard.
    "Oh, really!  You're gonna trip me!" I could just make out his eyes in the moonlight.  His skin seemed so pale and his lips extra light against that dark beard.  
    I looked down and felt the bare skin of his stomach, where his shirt had flown up when he landed. I slowly traced his skin and his eyes widened. 
    Mark gently flipped me over and gazed down at me so tenderly, like he cared about me more than anything in the world. I thought about that concept and truly understood how much he'd come to mean to me since I'd known him.
    So many emotions went through me as I was honest with myself...about my fears, my hopes. And how being there with him, was the most natural thing I'd ever done.
    We held each other for a long time.  His heart beat so strong, not like a raging storm, but smooth and constant like a wintry wind. I put my hand against his chest, just holding it there forever as if discovering a safe-haven for the very first time.
    I curled into his arms, the two of us entwined, and I felt "one" with someone for the first time in my life.
     At one point my fingers warmed as they traced his chest. He peered at me wistfully, lying on the tramp, still so utterly handsome in the moonlight. And I thought he was the most gorgeous person I'd ever seen in my life.
    "I love you," I said under my breath.
    "I love you, too," he said, and as the words left his mouth, tears brimmed in my eyes. "I've loved you for a long time," he whispered.
    I laid on him, clutching his strong shoulders. We moved slightly, the tramp swaying beneath us. A gust of wind tickled my back, and that's when I completely cried in Mark's capable arms.

HOW TO BREAK THE CYCLE OF ABUSE

THE TRAMPOLINE (Part One)

THIRTEEN

To read this story from the beginning, please go HERE
This is a work of fiction based on a true story....  

Things with Mark Marrucini deepened after the avalanche. I couldn't seem to get enough of him—and I think the feeling was mutual. He'd come over and hang out with my four kids while I did homework, and then after I got a job booking flights from home.     
    When neither of us was working, we'd play card games for hours. He'd take me out to eat or—since he was an amazing cook—he'd buy groceries and create gourmet meals for me and the kids. After the days would nearly end, when the kids were completely tired and sleeping, Mark and I would stand in the kitchen and kiss goodbye, for hours.
    It was on one such evening that Mark showed up at the door, holding enough bags of food to feed an army. "Who wants spaghetti?" Mark yelled and all four of my kids came running to the door. My three youngest hugged him, but my twelve-year-old stayed back a few feet and waved. I didn't know if she'd ever hug Mark, even if things got serious someday, but I held out hope.
    He asked all of them about their day at school. Even my four-year-old wanted to tell him about preschool. "And all those kids missed me! They hadn't seen me in a long time. They love me—like you love me, 'Arrucini!" she spouted, missing the "m" in Marrucini.
    He grinned. "Yep, I do love you, baby girl!"
    His words made me blush, and my twelve-year-old looked at me questioningly.    
    As Mark started removing onions and garlic from the grocery sack, my five-year-old boy asked for my help in his room. "Mama?" he said, trying to yank some new pants from his drawer. "We're going to see Daddy tonight?"
    "Yeah. Are you so excited?"
    "Yep," he said, then without missing a beat, "Mama, are you gonna marry Mark?"
    I nearly fainted. "Oh...baby—no!"
    "But, Mama. I like having another guy around!"
    I thought of how he has three sisters. "I really like Mark, but I don't want to get married again…for a long time." As I picked up some papers from his floor and set them on his nightstand I said, "Mark is pretty neat though."  Then I got an idea—I could distract him, "Why? Are you gonna marry a girl at school?" He turned white. "I bet you do like a certain girl in your class!"
    "Listen, Mama. I'm surrounded by girls all the time. At school, I want to hang out with boys."
    I opened his door, only to find my two oldest daughters, eavesdropping. "Oh… Hi, Mom." They waved.
   "Ummm hmmm! You two eavesdroppers wanna help us cook?" I asked, but it was not a question.
    "Sure...." my oldest said drably.
    As we cooked, I really watched Mark with my kids. I'd just started cutting up some onions when someone knocked on the door. One of my best friends, who happens to live down the block, stood there. "Gina, do you still have jumper cables?" she asked.
    "Sure do. Hey, Mark, I'll be back in a second. Are you guys okay?"
    "Yep!" My four-year-old sang before anyone else could answer.
     I went outside to grab the jumper cables for my friend. She quickly broke the silence, "You really like this guy?"    
    "I think so," I said. "There's so much to this, though…. But maybe it's good for me to be treated well?"
    "Absolutely. After everything you've been through, you need to know what that feels like. So what's the hang-up?"
    "You know how I'm going back to school to be a counselor?" She nodded. "I'm taking a class that deals with issues children may be facing." I opened my garage and began looking for the cables. "One of those issues is divorce. I've heard that over a third of children, with a single mother who's dating, will end up being abused."
    "That many?"
    "Yeah." I'd located the jumper cables and handed them to her. "I just need to be careful. That last guy I was dating, The Schmuck, he wasn't very good to my kids."
    "I hated that guy. And I hate that I know his sister-in-law."
    They'd gone to high school together and had talked in the following years. I kind of hated it that they knew each other too—sometimes small towns suck!
    "But this guy, Mark, he's good with kids?" she asked.
    "Yeah," I nodded.
    Before walking down the block to her house, my friend acted as if resolved to say something. "Gina?" she asked. "I don't want to tell you this, but about The Schmuck…. I'm in a mother's group with his sister-in-law. She found out we're friends. Now she, and The Schmuck's wife, have been messaging me on Facebook asking about you, wanting to know if I've seen The Schmuck's truck over here. I know you haven't even talked to him in a long time, but just be careful, thing whole situation could be on Jerry Springer."
    "He's still sending me texts every once in a while. I got one on Valentine's Day."
    "I thought you blocked him!"
    "I deleted his number and I guess that unblocked him. I didn't even want his damn number in my phone!"
    "Doesn't he get it? It's over? He's—the biggest creep ever!" 
    "I looked at his wife's Facebook page," I confessed. 
    "Gina!"
    "But I couldn't help it. She goes on and on about how perfect their marriage is, as if he hadn't been with me constantly for months!"
    After she'd jumped her small car off of her other dependable vehicle, I walked back to my house. 
    I thought about my very last straw with The Schmuck. 
    We'd been in the kitchen, talking about his day at work. "Usually I don't like talking about work, but I can with you," he said. Then when he was just about to say something else, my twelve-year-old bounded up the stairs and interrupted.  
    "I need to tell you something, Mama!  I had the coolest thing happen. When I went—"
    Her voice screeched to a halt as The Schmuck stood, tall and menacing. He was a person of size, over six feet and where he wasn't pure muscle, a bit of fat filled in everything else. 
    He barreled forward, backed my twelve-year-old against a wall and said, "Interrupting me? Try getting away now, kid. Try it. Try it!" He acted manic, then laughed, thinking it was hysterical. But it made me feel sick...helpless as he laughed, chin pointed at the ceiling, mouth twisted into a sneer that made him look far more devilish than I'd imagined he could be. 
    I wanted to scream, tell him to get out, but I couldn't. "Well, let's call it a night," I tried to keep my voice even.
    I walked him to the porch—he had no idea how much he'd upset me.  "Gina, I feel so at home with you guys. I just realized it. It's like your kids are my own."
    Great.  How terrifying was that?  
    "This just shows, things'll be perfect with us.  Remember how you want to live in a small town?" he asked. "I'm gonna start saving. It'll just be me, you, and the kids. You won't have to work. I'll do everything. We'll have a white-picket fence going around our house. We'll have a deck. Everything you want! And you can spend all your time with your kids and my kids, cooking and taking care of the house. You're everything I've ever wanted. This is the first time in my life I've gotten what I wanted...you."
    I waved "goodbye" as he drove off in his big, expensive white truck.  That man had more money than God.  He'd always buy beautiful clothes for me and take me out to nice dinners.  With him, I wouldn't have to worry about money.... But the cost was still too high.  I crumpled onto the porch and hung my head in my hands. Even if his words weren't filled with empty promises, I was shocked with the way he'd treated my oldest daughter.  
    For a moment I tried reasoning his actions away. He'd been tired.  He wouldn't do it again, not if I asked.  
    But when I went inside, I heard my poor preteen daughter crying in her room.
    "Can I come in?" I asked, knocking."
    "Y-y-y-yes," she sobbed. "Mama, he scares me so bad." She shook, and I'd cried too. "Please don't date him anymore….  Please don't marry that man. I heard what he said. Please, Mama. I don't need a big house. I can help with the kids while you work. We'll make it. We just need you." As she pleaded, I realized I'd put my baby—all of my babies—in danger simply by trusting the wrong man. "Please?" She asked again.   
    That was the end of it for me. I'd hung onto an asshole for my own self-esteem, for promises of stability, in a last-ditch effort to feel worth something if someone could love me after my failed marriage. But the fact remained, I didn't need a man—not really—the people in need were my kids, needing me.
    After all of that with The Schmuck, I vowed to never put a man above my kids again—no matter how much I needed validation and love. I also resigned that if I ever caught signs of an abuser in the future, I would leave immediately, no looking back. And my kids would always be safe.

BREAK THE CYCLE OF ABUSE

    I sighed, standing straighter, walking back into the house where Mark and the kids were making dinner. Could I trust this man who I'd known so long as a friend and was currently dating? Was he who he'd presented himself to be? Or was I making another mistake?

To be continued tomorrow....

Surviving An Avalanche: Based On A True Story

AVALANCHE

TWELVE 


To read this story from the beginning, please go HERE
This is a work of fiction based on a true story....   

Mark and I'd decided to take things slow, to keep our friendship intact and let me heal from previous relationships. I kept telling myself that I was in no place to seriously date someone and I couldn't kiss Mark again. But I felt like things had changed for the worse since making this decision.
    Mark and I texted one another at least once a day, but I didn't see him much for the next week. So, when he asked me to go hiking one day, my heart leapt. I quickly put on some warm clothes and hiking shoes before driving to meet him at his house.
    The thing is that Mark was a classic bachelor. He'd owned his house since he was twenty-two. Now he'd rented two of the rooms to a couple of guys: one of them being my previous co-worker Tall Man, and the other roommate was someone everyone adored because of his fun approach to life. The three men had decorated the house with masculine, dark themes. Sheets hung in the windows over black curtains "to keep the sun out." This all seemed to scream "needs a woman's touch," but I never said a word because I secretly loved how manly the place felt. After all, it was quite endearing since Mark had only had a few girlfriends over the years despite girls' persistence to date him. Instead, he'd remained hard to tie down, living a simple life working and hiking with his dog, Abby.
    "I made us lunch," I told Mark after walking through the front door.
    "You made," he spied the wrapping, "Subway straight from the restaurant. Nice!"
    We loaded his dog and gear into his truck before speeding toward the canyon.
    It was quite chilly in the mountains and the trail was covered in ice and snow. It felt so good being up there, even if Abby almost knocked me down the icy trail several times, and it was hard climbing up the cold rocks at one point.
    "If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?" Mark suddenly asked.
    "Italy."
    He smiled. "What about in the states?"
    "I'd like to go to Dana Point in Southern California. I went whale watching there once. It was unreal, being on the prow of the boat, feeling the water splashing onto my face. Seeing dolphins jumping by the side of the boat. You get seasick?" I asked.
    "Nope," he said. "Been deep sea fishing and everything. I've never been seasick once."
    "Where would you go if you could go anywhere?"
    "Italy would be cool, or New Zealand."
    After a while I rested on a freezing log halfway up the hike near a clear pool of water. Even though the banks were frozen, spring was obviously on its way because the middle water rippled freely. Abby immediately jumped in and started drinking. "She's such a cute dog," I said. She made me laugh because her uninhibited happiness reminded me of my own around Mark.
    I breathed in the woodsy air; it felt as if the essence of life lived and breathed, tickling my senses. Mark sat next to me, far closer than I'd expected, and my heart raced. I thought about everything I'd learned on Valentine's Day, about his heritage. If you looked closely, one could see the strong attributes from the Scottish side of his family—like his build, or his straight nose. The rest of him was all Italian: his olive skin, his dark hair…his full lips.
    I glanced away and kicked some snow at my feet.
    "It's pretty up here," Mark said.
    "Sure is." My face turned toward his once more and our eyes were inches apart. 
    Part of me wanted him to pull me into his arms and never let me go. The other part told me I needed to heal.  I was so conflicted about the whole thing that I'd even gone to see a counselor a few days before.  "It would be nice if you can heal on your own," the counselor said. "But there's another side to this that you aren't thinking of."
    "Oh?" I'd asked.
    "You're finally dating a man who seems genuinely good. It might be nice for you to understand healthy dynamics. You can tell him no without being scared of repercussions, like in your previous relationship. You can exercise healthy behaviors and develop good habits. So dating the right type of person can actually help you heal—it's just all in what you feel and what you want."
    "But what if I screw things up? I'm pretty messed up emotionally after everything I've been through," I'd said. "And this guy could be the real deal."
    "That's when you have to step back, breathe, and ask yourself if you're implementing constructive or destructive behaviors in your life."
    I was so busy daydreaming into the past, I'd nearly forgotten that Mark and I weren't finished with our hike. "Well, you ready to keep hiking?" Mark asked, pulling me from my reverie. He held out his hand to help me climb over the log, and when our fingers touched, a rush of heat shot up my arm making me shiver off the cold.
    We worked, climbing up icy slopes and trudging across the snowy sides where few people had walked. Soon enough we'd crested a hill and found ourselves at the end of the hike. I looked up, completely stunned. "I should've known the waterfall would be frozen." It towered high above us, more majestic that any waterfall I'd ever seen. Miniscule flakes of ice fell from it as we edged closer.


    I'd been there in summer and knew waters normally pooled around the base of the falls, but now it simply looked like a massive sheet of snow. "Come on!" I squealed, grabbing Mark's hand and dragging him across the snow. For a split second a premonition saying "don't go farther" niggled at my brain, but of course I didn't listen.
    "You know someone died here," Mark said as we moved forward. He pointed to a rocky crevice running horizontally several feet above snow level. It was just large enough a couple people could probably climb in there and hide, protected by the solid rock beneath and the overhang just above. "A kid was trying to climb up there. He fell and…. Anyway, it was a really sad story."
    "I bet," I said.
    Abby ran around, happier than ever. She jumped, landing in some snow a couple feet down a sloped area.
    "Oh, my gosh! This could be just like sand jumping!" I said. Mark turned curiously. "I used to go sand jumping a lot. You stand at the top of a sandy hill, then run and jump. You have to ski through the sand 'til you stop. But feel all this snow, and the ice underneath it? We could totally jump and ski down."
    He was game—I should have known he would be. We held hands, ran and jumped, skiing together a few feet until we both fell on our butts. The second time we did it, I nearly fell into his lap.     
    Abby came and licked our faces as we laughed and laughed; that's when something terrifying happened….
     
    An ice boulder that must have weighed over a hundred pounds dislodged from the side of the waterfall and crashed only a few feet from us. The ice beneath cracked like thunder. Mark clutched my hand and yanked me to an upright position. "Run!" he screamed; a vein in his neck bulged.
    My eyes shot upward, glued to a whole section of the frozen waterfall that started bending away from the mountain, folding in on itself like origami.
    I tried running, but the ground was suddenly so slippery.  As if in a dream, I could not run. The bottom of my shoes must have been coated in ice. Another frozen boulder crunched into the ground about two feet from us. My heart stopped. I gritted my teeth so hard they hurt. Do it! I told myself. Run. Despite everything, I scrambled, then I ran. 
    The booms and cracks all around made me shudder and jump like a frightened mouse. The shifting ground made it even harder to move, but Mark was there, pulling me, dragging me toward that horizontal crevice where someone had died. "Abby! Get your ass over here!"
    Then Abby whimpered, running between Mark's legs and my own. It became increasingly harder to sprint forward, ice boulders falling in front of and behind us. Snow flurried from the ground as more ice smacked the earth, shaking my insides. It seemed as if in slow motion, seeing a damn snowglobe from the inside out. An even larger chunk of the waterfall lurched, about to fall from the mountain. I paused, horrified, seeing disaster through flakes that filled the cold air.
    My breath wheezed as I finally collapsed right next to the graying mountain. 
    "Hurry! Hurry, you two." Mark's voice drifted through the air.
    Without taking his eyes from me, Mark jumped into the crevice and immediately pulled me next to him. "Abby, get up here!"
    She sure did, jumping high, nearly knocking both of us out of the rocky hole and into the onslaught of ice and snow.
    Mark threw his chest and arms on top of us, pushing both myself and Abby farther into the crevice. There was barely room for the three of us. I shivered, squinting at the ice wall that had finally broken free from the mountain. In seconds, it would devastate the ground.
    "I got you, girls. I got you," Mark whispered. Even though the crevice protected us overhead, beneath and behind, I realized ice could still jet in through the opening. And Mark—this man I'd known less than a year—had made his own body vulnerable so both Abby and I would be okay if icy shards splintered in our direction.
    I hugged his strong arms, clenched my eyes shut and turned my face as the ice rocked the ground. The most drastic blow threatened the very rock we rested in, and a wind whipped into the crevice throwing snow and ice, from the aftermath of the booming vibrations.
    All three of us quivered—especially poor Abby.
    Mark and I watched the show before us. Little ice-rocks continued falling, cracking and shattering.  More boulders bounced from the treacherous, icy wall.  Snow descended amongst ice for a long time, until the mountain began to quiet, and the tremors weren't quite so terrifying, not anymore. 
    I stared up at Mark, his face pale, everything except his cheeks. I threw my arms around him; still disbelieving that we were okay; shocked that he'd done everything possible to put me and his dog before himself—without a second thought.
    As snow drifted into both of our hair, and his dog sniffed my butt, that's when I kissed Mark. Tears filled my eyes as our lips met over and over. We held each other so tight. Then I pulled away and rested my forehead against his. "Mark, you are such a good man. They just don't make 'em like you anymore. You're unbelievable."
    We ate our "homemade" Subway sandwiches, giving some meat to Abby, who calmed down after a few minutes. When we were sure the danger was over, we crept out of the crevice. Staying next to the mountain all the while, and with adrenaline still pumping through our veins, we trudged—as quickly as possible—down the powder trail.
    I didn't know what this would mean for the future. I didn't even know where our relationship stood, if we'd still try only being friends. But what I did know was that I liked Mark. He continually proved his worth, his kindness, his overall goodness. Whether we stayed friends, or became more in the future, I found myself inspired by a person who made me want to be as selfless as he was.

You're Never Too Old For Romance

VALENTINE'S DAY

ELEVEN

To read this story from the beginning, please go HERE
This is a work of fiction based on a true story.... 

I was thrilled; the green dress fit me even better than I'd remembered, and my mom bought me a glass bead necklace that hung just above my collarbones. The lace bodice of my dress dipped in the front, showing just enough skin. With all of these adornments and my hair swirled high in a French twist, I couldn't stop smiling. Bright cherry lips shone back at me in the mirror, an extravagant contrast from the green hues in my dress and eyes. I blinked at my reflection; it was the first time I'd felt pretty in years.
    The gold earrings' backs slid easily into place. Finally, I brushed some smoky eyeshadow onto my eyelids, lengthened my lashes with "midnight" mascara and called it good.
    I was ready, a half hour early, and there was nothing to do. So I stared at the gift my kids had helped me make for Mark. Before leaving with their father earlier that day, they had insisted that I needed to give Mark a meaningful Valentine's gift from all of us.
    "What in the heck should I give him?" I asked my twelve-year-old daughter. We didn't have much money. And what if he didn't have a gift for me? Wouldn't that make him feel awkward…or make me look presumptuous?
    "Make him a candy gram with candy bars," my oldest daughter said.
    "Yeah," my second oldest agreed with her sister. "If you buy a poster and some candy bars, we'll help you make sentences with them."
    "O…kay," I whispered nervously.
    All four of my kids had been so darling, writing the words and erasing them several times.
    I grinned from the memory and read the candy gram as I waited for Mark to pick me up for the symphony.



     Just as I finished reading the poster, I spied Mark's red truck from the corner of my eye. As he pulled into my driveway, my stomach flew into my chest. I hadn't been this nervous since Prom!
Hiding from view as much as possible, I peeked out the window. Mark jumped from his truck and immediately began dusting off his suit-pants. Damn—he cleaned up nice! I nearly had to pick my jaw up off the floor as I watched him jolt to the other side of his truck and open the passenger door. He was gorgeous, with a recently trimmed beard and a new haircut. The long-sleeved dress shirt and matching checkered vest fit him snugly, showing off his muscles even from a distance.
    I'd never in my life swooned over a man quite like this, especially when I saw what he pulled from the side of his truck.
    Mark held the most beautiful bouquet of purple lilies. He smelled them momentarily before shutting the door awkwardly and pacing, as nervous as I was. The scene was suddenly quite endearing; I giggled watching him and wondered, had he worried about his outfit like I'd worried about mine?
    He rang my doorbell seconds after this and I rushed to the couch, playing nonchalant. I slowly rose and sauntered to the door. 
    "Mark!" my voice chirped. "Thank you!" I whisked the flowers away and put them in a vase. "The kids and I made this for you."
    He smiled reading the candy gram. "I give you skittles, huh?"
    "Don't put too much stock into that!"
    Then we were out the door, and within moments, driving to our destination in Salt Lake City.
    We talked about anything from religion to spud guns. "So you've shot a spud gun?" he asked.
    "Hell, I made one!" It seemed like there were so many things we'd never discussed before—and it was all so new. I couldn't wait to hear more about his interests and what he'd done as a child. I wanted to learn more about his family and their heritage.
    I was just thinking about how this was turning into an extraordinary Valentine's Day when my phone dinged, notifying me of a new text message.
    "Do you mind if I get this quick?" I asked. "It might be one of my kids."
    He nodded with understanding. "Of course not."
    But the text wasn't from my kids. It was from The Schmuck. He'd sent me a picture of his horse in the mountains.
    I'm lost without you. Spending Valentine's alone in the mountains. My wife is out with another man. I miss YOU.

    I shoved my phone down on the truck's seat and crossed my arms.
    "What's wrong?" Mark asked.
    I explained and showed him the picture. "Don't worry; he'll leave me alone soon."
    "One can only hope," Mark whispered so quietly I barely heard him.
    When he parked and immediately started leading me East down the street, I looked around bewildered; this wasn't the way to the symphony. He must have seen my confusion. "I looked up dozens of restaurants," he said. "The Blue Lemon is supposedly the best of the best."
    It was a gorgeous place with artistic décor and dimmed lights. Mark ordered the seared ahi tuna with edamame rice while I ordered black bean ravioli. The food was absolutely delicious, but what made those moments spectacular was Mark: his witty banter, the way he befriended everyone—so reminiscent of those first few months when he'd garnered my curiosity with that contagious smile. After all, I suspected everyone had always noticed Mark.
    The waiter lingered making small talk. A woman came up to refill my drink as the waiter talked with Mark. She leaned down and whispered, "He's a keeper." When both of them had walked away, I beamed at Mark. "Are you as perfect as you seem to be?" I asked.
    "I'm just an average guy, Gina."
    "No. You're not."
    "Maybe you've dated so many jerks, you don't know what regular guys are like," he said.
    I chuckled. "I know what regular guys are like; I never fall for them. You're not a jerk, and you aren't a regular guy either—I can tell; that's why I'm falling for you." And it was true, there was something very different about Mark, I just couldn't put my finger on it.
    Before it was time to leave, Mark placed his napkin on his plate. "What are you doing out with a guy like me on Valentine's Day?"
    "Having the time of my life," I responded.
    "I swear you're the most beautiful girl in this room."
    I blushed. "What a line!"
    "It's not a line." He leaned forward and stared into my eyes. "Your inner beauty really does it. You're gorgeous on the outside, too—don't get me wrong, but your personality makes everything else shine. There's nothing more beautiful than a woman who's confident in her own skin."
    His words warmed me like a winter coat as we walked a short distance to the symphony. Street lights shone down on us. My dress swayed in the breeze and Mark's jokes made me laugh out loud.
    Hearing Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto that night was life-changing. I closed my eyes completely a couple times and pictured entire stories in my head. For a moment I didn't worry about trivial exes, school, a future job, or surviving as a single mother. Instead I held onto the music and became one with the moment. 
    After opening my eyes wistfully, Mark squeezed my hand and smiled. "It makes me so happy knowing you're enjoying this as much as I am," he whispered, and kissed me on the cheek.
I smiled back at him and wondered, had I finally met someone worth holding onto forever?
    When we got back to the house, Mark walked me to the door. "I better get back home?" he asked.
    I bit my lip. "Do you…wanna come in for some wine?"
    He thought for a minute and nodded. "Sure."
    We played cards for hours. Drank and talked. I ended up drinking way too much. At one point, I giggled, pouring wine and missing my glass. "You know what we need?!" I shouted into my glass. "We need some snacks! I keep all the wine in my bedroom—with labels of what food goes best with each one. Ya know, sometimes cheese, chicken, fish, they bring out different flavors in the wine."
    So I sprinted up the stairs, nearly missing a few in the process.
My feet stumbled into the room, then I pulled the labels from under my bed and struggled to focus on them. "Oh, Mark! Come up to the bedroom. You gotta see this!"
    It took him a minute to get up there. But when he stood in the doorway, I held my breath. It had happened before, but I hadn't fully realized, he'd taken off his vest, tie, and his shoes. He suddenly exuded such raw desire and passion. Even with the wine, I knew what he was thinking as he walked into the room. He sat down by me and read the wine labels slowly.
    He never once put his arm around me, but he rested close enough that our thighs touched…and all the sudden I could focus, on his eyes, his lips, on the stupid wine labels that had been so blurry before.
    Quicker than a concerto violinist, playing a finale, I grabbed a pillow from the bed, threw it onto the floor and pushed Mark into it.
    I straddled him, kissing him with so much desire, so much need. He tasted like the wine we'd been drinking. And I kept getting mixed up as my heart beat faster and his kisses were more intoxicating than the wine had ever been. I liked him so much. But I didn't want to go further than kissing; yet he was right there.. And when his arms wrapped around me, I nearly forgot anything else, getting so lost in him. He could've had me, if he'd wanted. I knew he'd realized it too. We both stood up at one point. It would've been easy for him to slowly peel off my clothes and see the new panties I'd bought.
    I closed my eyes and waited for his next move. Instead of taking me, and making love to me for hours, he picked up the pillow from the floor and put it on my bed. He cradled me in his arms, laid me on the bed, and rested next to me on top of the comforter.
    Brushing hair from my face, he then massaged my scalp, and played with my long strawberry blonde hair for what felt like hours. After a time, I felt his lips kiss me on the cheek. "Gina, I've never felt like this about anyone."
    I fell asleep. And when I woke up, he still held me. I studied his features and smiled. My head had cleared enough that I realized what had happened.
    He opened his eyes as I moved. "Good morning, beautiful. How did you sleep?"
    "So well! I've never been able to sleep with someone holding me." It surprised me more than I'd admit.
    "How's your head?"
    "Fine. I never get handovers from wine," I said.
    "I'm good, too," he said.
    A few minutes passed before we both got up and made some coffee.
    He was about to leave to work when I gazed at him and asked, "Mark, we both know I would've had sex with you last night. So, why didn't we? Why didn't you want to?" I asked.
    "You weren't ready. And you were so drunk. I wanted to more than you might think…. But there's no way I'd take advantage of you. You're hurting and vulnerable. You need time to heal."
    "You denied me!" I joked.
    "Well…"
    "I'm just teasing," I said. And it was hard to keep my emotions at bay—it'd meant so much that he hadn't taken advantage of me. I gave Mark a half-smile. "Thank you," I mouthed.
    "See you sometime this week?" he asked.
    "Absolutely. That was the best Valentine's ever."
    "For me too," he said, and drove away, leaving me to examine many questions I'd been avoiding within myself; questions about Mark, about my own self-worth, about my inner strength or lack thereof, questions about why I felt like I always needed affirmation about everything….
    I walked upstairs, rested on my bed and hugged the pillow that now smelled like Mark. And somehow as I thought about him, I felt so grateful for his actions the night before.
    I would make it through this. I would be okay. And it felt nice knowing I had people like my mom and Mark who seemed to have my best interest, always.

I wanted to impress him, but I had no idea what to wear.

WHAT TO WEAR?
TEN

To read this story from the beginning, please go HERE
This is a work of fiction based on a true story.... 

My mom went with me to a local discount store; she has much better taste than I do. I'd grabbed about a million dresses, and after trying on several sets, I felt kind of hopeless.
    "That could work," my mom would say. Or she'd pull up my dress so you couldn't see my cleavage. "Ummm…ba-boomba! Next, please!"
    We'd looked for hours and the only thing I found was a pair of shoes and some cute black panties. "If you want to feel confident, wear nice underwear," a friend of mine always says. "Nobody else needs to see them, but just having a secret like that—knowing what sexy thing you're wearing under your other clothes—that'll make you feel like a million bucks." I smiled, remembering her words, and paid for the panties (and shoes) before my mom could even see everything I'd bought.
    "You just bought the shoes?"
    I dodged the question. "I got the shoes. But will we find a cute dress?"
    "Don't worry," my mom said. "You'll find the perfect outfit." Then as we got outside to our cars, she studied my demeanor. "Are you okay? Oh, no…. You haven't been talking to The Schmuck again? Have you?"
    "No!" I shook my head emphatically. "I am friends with a guy who knows The Schmuck though. He's a good friend of mine, but I don't like how I keep hearing about The Schmuck from him."
    "And? What have you heard?"
    "He's smoothing things over with his wife, lying like crazy. I feel bad for her and their daughters."
    "What a creep." A little bit of my mom's Italian fiery side came out. "Did you file the stalking violation, or whatever it's called?"
    "No. I figured reporting what happened is enough. I can't do much anyway unless they threaten me in writing."
    My mom sighed heavily. "I hope they won't show up again, but just in case, I want you to think about something."
    "Okay?"
    "Would you ever answer the door to Satan?" she asked.
    "What the…? What does that have to do with anything?"
    "Just answer the question! Would you answer the door to Satan?"
    "Ummm—no!"
    "Remember that if The Schmuck, or even his wife, come to your house again. Don't answer your door, just call the police."
    I drove home alone shortly after that. So many thoughts swirled in my head. Would The Schmuck's wife come over again? Would she try hurting me out of anger and possibly jealousy like The Schmuck had insinuated months before? I remembered my mom's words and suddenly nothing seemed more important in the world than deleting The Schmuck's number. Sure, he wouldn't be blocked in my phone anymore, but at least his name would no longer be in my contact list.
    I highlighted his name, then tapped "delete" on the screen. It felt so good—the last tie had been cut. Months before I'd thrown away every gift he'd ever given to me; I'd even returned a few and left a card with the money at his brother's house. Now everything was finished forever…or so I thought.
    My ex-husband had the kids that evening and for some reason the quietness of the house overcame me. I rested in bed, just staring at the ceiling, motionless. For a moment I thought about staying locked in my room forever…. Doing nothing, that was a good plan—then I couldn't make any mistakes.
    That's when my mom called—when I'd finally been busy making good choices! "Hello?"
    "Gina, I'm worried about you? Why are you so sad anyway?"
    Why was I so sad?! Well, I hadn't even been legally divorced for six months—for starters. I sniffled. "Maybe it sounds stupid, but…I'm scared."
    "Scared, but there's nothing wrong, honey. You're okay. You have so much to be thankful for."
    "I know. I know." Then I started involuntarily sobbing.
    "Oh, Gina. I hate knowing you're so sad."
    "It's just divorce. It's a lot harder than I ever imagined. And now that it's legal, it hurts like when we first just got separated. I miss the kids and when they're here, sometimes I get down on myself, thinking I should be smarter for them, stronger, better, cook healthier, clean more. But it's all on me! I'm the only freakin' adult here. If anything goes wrong, it's all on me—the responsibility, the upkeep, the discipline."
    "I can't imagine what it's like. I didn't realize. I'm so sorry. And to top it off, you were going through this and then you started dating a guy who was really living with his wife the whole time."
    I was ready to have an out-and-out pity party. "Men suck! Part of me has died and no one even came to the funeral!"
    There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then my mom suddenly burst with laughter, giggling on AND ON! "I love you so much," she finally said. "Even when you're sad, you're hilarious. Chin up. Things will get better. And who knows, maybe things will be different with this new guy. You've been talking about him for months. Isn't he your one in five hundred?"
    "Yeah, but, Mom, my track record sucks! What if he ends up being a jerk too?"
    "Just take it slow. Learn from past situations. It'll be okay…. Did you figure out what you're wearing yet?"
    I slowly stood up and opened my closet door. A lacy green summer dress hung next to the wedding dress I'd worn over a decade prior. My fingers fell across the white fabric, then I pushed the wedding dress back so I couldn't see it and pulled out the green number.
    "Do you remember that green lace dress I bought last year?"
    "That would be perfect! It's the knee-length one, right? With the lace-up back?" she asked.

    "That's the one. It even matches my new shoes." And maybe even my new panties.
    "You'll look beautiful. Just take your time, sweetheart. And for Pete's sake—don't get intimate with him!"
    "Mom." I turned completely red. "I'm not planning on it."
    "Sex just messes everything up. It's hard to think straight if you're having sex with someone. And it'd just make you more attached to each other than you should be before you're married."
    Oh, my gosh! Were we seriously having this conversation? "Mom, I'm over thirty."
    "And I'm still your mother…." I sighed into the phone. "Well, anyway, I'm glad you found an outfit to wear."
    "Me too."
    I could tell she was just about to hang up the phone when I blurted, "Hey, Mom?"
    "Yeah?" she said.
    "Thanks for caring about me. You know how I said I died and no one came to the funeral?" I breathed deeply. "Well, you came to it. You're always there for me."
    "I love you, honey…. You know what, you're gonna have a great time at the symphony. From what you've told me, I have a good feeling about this guy."
    "Is that why you told me we might be great together, if we tried being more than friends?" I asked; she'd been urging me to date him—for months.
    After we hung up, I smoothed my green dress onto the bed.
    "I hope I'll look beautiful for Mark," I whispered to myself. "He's been so wonderful, for as long as I've known him. I really want him to think I'm something special too."

Utah Has Some AMAZING Hot Pots

For a list of hot pots in Utah, please go HERE.

(This chapter is based on my first visit to some hot pots in Northern Utah!)

HOT POTS
NINE

To read this story from the beginning, please go HERE
This is a work of fiction based on a true story....

    "Oh my gosh!" I said, just remembering the mass message I'd sent out days before to everyone I knew:  
I'm going to take at least a year off from having a serious relationship. I'll take this time to focus on myself and my kids. And by golly, I'm going to enjoy!

    "What's wrong?" Mark asked.
    "I just remembered telling everyone that I want to be single for a year. You know, I'm not looking for anything serious right now? That means…I don't want to have sex for a long time, or spend all my free time with a significant other…you know, until I'm in a serious relationship. If I wait at least a year then I'll be ready."
    "Okay." He paused, then said, "I'm willing to wait as long as it takes until you're ready for something serious."
    My heart warmed and I looked at him in a new way. "Really?"
    "Yes, Gina. Really."
    I squinted in the light that seemed to shine even brighter since the sun had fully crested the mountains. "You wanna keep walking up now that we made it this far anyway?" I asked as we climbed down from the cave.
    "Sure. Let's check it out."
    I'd heard about some hot pots that weren't far up Ogden Canyon. I had no idea if we'd find them, but they were supposedly close-by.
    As we walked next to the water, Mark spotted a musty old towel and a scrub brush. "Lots of homeless people come up here," he said. "It's not always the safest place."
    That reminded me of the grave we'd seen earlier that day. Ogden Canyon was filled with dangers galore.
    We walked several steps apart, and I wondered how things would go now that we'd kissed. Neither of us said much, instead just enjoying the mountain air. He caught my gaze a couple times and I couldn't help but smile and look away.
    Everything was extraordinarily clear. The trees and vegetation gleamed vibrant greens. Purple and yellow flowers had bloomed, waiting for spring, just around the corner. A stream bubbled gorgeously by and birds chirped in the distance. I couldn't help sighing; the day was simply beautiful.
    "So we're hanging out for Valentine's next week, right?" Mark asked.
    "I was planning on it," I said, blushing because we'd planned on going as friends. Would we still just be going as friends now?
    "I have something special planned already. And I've taken work off for it."
    My eyebrows raised. "What plans?"
    "You'll just have to wait and see. I'll tell you when it's closer. But you'll need to dress up."
    He'd never seen me dressed up, not really, and the thought kind of terrified me. I'm not the dress-up sort of girl. I recently learned how to really curl my hair so the strawberry blonde pieces fall in rivulets down my back. I'd tried perfecting that look for years, but, in years gone by, had appeared as if taken hostage by a dirt storm and some hairspray. Not only could I do my hair now, I could also do my makeup so my green eyes stood out and concealer hid all my freckles. Maybe getting dressed up could actually be fun. I glanced over at Mark, wishing I could look so good he'd regret not kissing me first!
    I turned back toward the trail ahead, and Mark must have noticed something at the same time I did. About thirty feet ahead, where the trail rose gently from the stream, smoke billowed up the side of the forest.
    "No way." Mark gaped. "We found them."
    I was so excited; I could hardly contain myself. "Real hot pots!"


    After getting closer, we both took off our socks and shoes again. The air thickened, like a sauna. Several pools steamed in a semi-circle. The one farthest from the stream was the hottest. "I wouldn't get in that one," Mark said, leaning over the pool, like a sleuth inspecting a clue. "But I don't know if I'd get in any of them!" He pointed and we saw that, in the farthest pool up, another towel and brush rested next to the hot pot.
    I did get a little nervous, but I tried playing the nothing-can-bother-me-I'm-a-badass-card. "So, someone else has been here. So, what?"
    He pointed to the water oozing out of a vertical hole. Brown and green moss lined the opening. And…it didn't smell healthy. "That's what an STD looks like," Mark said.
    I stepped back. "And you know this how?"
    "I've heard lots of stories. Doesn't it look like an STD cesspool?!"
    I sauntered to the hot pot farthest away, then gauged Mark's expression as I slowly, ever so gently, put my bare feet into the water. I thought he might die right there. If he'd gotten my goat about the grave and serial killers, this was my time to unsettle him.
    "Isn't it hot and dirty?"
    My eyes spied their reflection in the clear water. "It's fine!" I descended deeper, until the water rippled near my knees. It was pretty damn hot, hotter than any Jacuzzi I'd ever been in. "The heat would kill any germs. And I'm just putting my legs in." Deeper…and deeper.
    His face blanched. And that broad-shouldered man who I'd come to care for so much, looked literally terrified.
    So, being the gem I am, I decided to make things worse and, splashed some water on him. He cried out. What was he, the wicked witch of Oz? I giggled harder than I have in years. "I'm melting. I'm melting. What a world. What a world."
    Mark gazed at me patronizingly, as water dripped from the bottom part of his shirt. "Fine, but if I get an STD…."
    "It wasn't from me." I winked.
    He dipped his feet in and I went to sit next to him. My hands rested on the lip of the hot pot, where the rocky surface's heat and texture bit into my palms. Mark placed his hand over mine and squeezed. "This isn't too bad," he gritted his teeth, not meeting my eyes.
    A few minutes passed, as a renewing comfort seemed to pulse from his hand to mine.  I closed my eyes, breathed in the steamy, pine-smelling air, and listened to the birds. "Mark, if you could think of three things that are necessary for a good relationship, what would you say?"
    "What do you mean?"
    "Well, you could say, making life fun, comfort, friendship...love."
    He raised his feet so hot water and steam swirled from his skin. "Compatibility, because that covers friendship. Trust, because that includes being honest with the other person and yourself. And the third necessity would be...love."
    I nodded; those were awfully good.
    "What about you?" he asked.
    "I don't want to tell you. You'll just laugh."
    "Try me," he said.
    I flexed my calf muscles. "Love would be first for me. Then friendship."
    "That's not embarrassing," he scoffed. "What's the third?"
    "I really don't want to say it out loud." I could feel my face practically turning into a red-hot fireball. 
    "I told you," he said.
    "Fine, my third necessity is…good sex."
    He looked more uncomfortable than when I'd splashed him with the STD water. Suddenly swallowing, he simultaneously coughed.
    "Good sex?" he croaked, the bullfrog of the hot pot.
    "Well, if it sucks, you don't want to be stuck with that person forever."
    "That's why I said 'compatibility,' that covers sex."
    "Oh, no it doesn't! Sex is in a category all its own."
    "Gina! You are a horndog."
    "No, I'm not. I'm the one saying I won't have sex for a year!"
    "At least sex wasn't in my top three."
    His hand had remained on mine that entire time. But now it burned a hole into my skin.
    "Ya know, Mark Marrucini," I said, drawing out his name, "since I've known you, every once in a while I've wondered what else I could learn about you if we crossed the barrier between friendship and something more. Now I'm starting to get a pretty good idea."
    "Oh, yes? What have you learned?"
    I cleared my throat. "I've learned that you're scared of STDs and you hate sex."
    "You don't know that! Not yet."
    I was through blushing and being embarrassed around this man. "But you're not denying it!" I put my hand up to his beard and ran my fingers through it playfully. "I learned that your beard is a good time."
    He snorted.
    "And, I've also learned that you're one helluva kisser. But there's one thing that I haven't figured out."
    One of his brown eyebrows arched questioningly.
    "I wish I could figure out what we're doing for Valentine's Day."
He splashed his feet in the steamy water. "You really want to know?"
    I pictured him all dressed up in a suit, and myself with crazy-scary hair, wearing something that resembled a paper bag. I nodded, worriedly.
    "We're going to a fancy restaurant and then…the symphony."
    I squealed. "This will be so fun! I'm gonna have to buy a new dress. And shoes. And do my hair."
    He placed his forehead against mine. "You know what I learned today?" he asked.
    "That women are always right?"
    "Wrong." He smiled slyly. "I learned that you're even more wonderful than I'd ever imagined."
    And as I gazed into his eyes I found it ironic that he looked happy despite sitting in the "STD cesspool."
    I breathed in that steamy air and gazed at Mark's reflection next to mine. In that moment I felt completely content. 
    My lips lightly kissed Mark on the cheek. "You're a good time, Mr. Marrucini. I'm so excited for Valentine's Day," I whispered.
    "Me too," he said. "I can hardly wait to see you in a dress."

Do You Have A Memorable First Kiss?

EIGHT
"ONE LOVE" ROCK

To read this story from the beginning, please go HERE
This is a work of fiction based on a true story....

The water rushed past like crazy. I looked across the raging stream, wondering if we should stop. Screw that stupid water. "So, Mark, you in?"
    Before I'd called him that morning, I'd been having an especially hard day thinking about my lot as a single mother. When my kids were at their daddy's, going caving always made me feel better, and I wasn't about to stop on this hike because of an icy stream. It might sound silly to anyone who hasn't been depressed, but I needed to be up in my mountains, and feel peace even momentarily.
    So I stripped off my shoes and socks, threw them over my shoulder, and rolled up my pants. It was twenty degrees and the water bit my skin as my slender white feet dipped through the surface. Man I needed a tan—AND I was thankful I'd shaved. Soon the water was up to my shins, then my knees by the time I looked back at Mark. To my surprise he was taking off his shoes and socks too. "On my way," he said.

    It became so icy after a moment that I couldn't feel my feet sinking through the mire beneath. But I wouldn't stop and apparently neither would Mark Marrucini. I couldn't wait to find my cave and rest amidst the howling, windy entrance with one of my best friends.
    "Some of these rocks are slippery. Watch your step," Mark called. Then I was back in the moment. The water was deep; I pulled my phone from my pocket, holding it high over my head so it wouldn't get wet. The water welled up to my waist, and the current was strong. I'd lost so much weight, down to 105 pounds, that soon I slipped as the water pulled, tugging so hard.
    I involuntarily cried out, almost dropping my phone, barely saving it and myself in time.
    It became hard to stay rooted in place so I reached for a massive, slippery boulder at my side. And as Mark caught up to me, I thought about how much he'd surprised me by coming along. He now stood next to me in the water, eyes twinkling, some water glistening in his beard.
    The smell of mountain air and pine trees filled my senses, making a grin slide onto my face. Just seeing Mark and feeling the mountains around us, that gave me strength to climb, struggling hard to get onto that boulder while still holding my phone. The muscles in my upper body killed me. And I still couldn't feel my bare feet. But I made it—somehow, like I'd made it through all the other shit I'd gone through that past year.
    I stood on that rock, looked at my reddening feet and my soaking pants. This situation was so me—not something I've done recently, but rather something I used to do before having kids twelve years prior. As the thought hit me, I peered down at Mark and couldn't help smiling. After all, this seemed to be something he was enjoying too.
    Mark easily climbed onto the boulder. Even though the wind hit us hard and we were freezing, neither of us seemed too worried about it. We could jump to the other side of the shore from our rock. The opening of the cave was finally within sight.
    My fist still clutched my phone; now that we weren't so deep in water, I put my cell back in my pocket. Mark smiled, this huge smile that took all other thoughts from my head. No wonder I'd dreamed about kissing him; the man was gorgeous. Dark brown hair rested in perfect contrast to his beaming eyes. Those lips and strong features. I shook the thoughts off and put my socks and shoes on.
    My feet came back to life with tingles and heated pains. And although my pants were still rolled up, they were soaking wet—and Mark was pretty wet too. After he'd put his socks and shoes on as well, I started running to my cave. I could hardly wait to sit inside its jagged opening, like being in a lover's caress.
    Suddenly I was there—Mark stood right behind me as my hands felt every part of the cave's sides. It wasn't a deep cave, but its ceiling was quite high and dripping slightly with rock water. I smiled since we wouldn't even need a flashlight. Daylight swam all around us illuminating the rock's perfection.
    The farther I climbed up that rocky hallway, somehow God's love radiated from the mountains. And my heart raced, beating with the same soul I hadn't felt since I was an uninhibited kid, knowing exactly what I wanted and who I truly was...all by myself.
    After a while, I found a rock that had been painted with the words "one love." I sat against it, with my shoulders to the wall, breathing hard as emotions rushed around me.
    Mark sat close, closer than he'd ever sat next to me before. He looked wild, like something born in the forest. I wondered then, there were sides to this man I didn't know, things about him I wished I could discover. Like what he would be like as a partner in life, as my one and only, maybe even as a lover….
    I blushed and turned my face so he wouldn't see my sudden coloration. I pressed my back harder against that rock which cradled me softly in return. I pulled out my phone. "Smile, Mark. We gotta remember this forever!"
    So we smiled and I took a pic of us, right there in that cave. The flash blinded me for a moment. Everywhere I looked a rectangle of light appeared. After my vision cleared, I studied the picture I'd just taken; it showed mud and river water that had dried on my skin.
    "You're something else, Gina," Mark finally said. "You're so much like me."
    "I was just thinking the same thing about you! I don't know many people who would've gone through that water with me."
    "I would've jumped in first if you weren't so fast taking your shoes and socks off!" He laughed, and I could feel his breath barely touching my face.
    I shouldn't have said it, and I don't know where it came from, but I impulsively asked, "Have you ever had a good first kiss with someone? Something memorable?"
    "Not really." He laughed. "I guess they were all sort of awkward. And I'm usually not the one to make the first move. I don't want to do something if a girl isn't interested. Or isn't ready."
    "I don't think I've ever had a guy kiss me first," I said. "Well, not a good kiss anyway."
    I looked up at him expectantly. This was his cue. If he liked me—at all—now was the time to show it. Nothing stood in our way, other than the fact that I was soaking wet and had dried mud on my face. But he could still kiss me. Make the move, I urged him in my head.
    But instead he kind of looked away like he was actually nervous! He'd put his hand back on the "one love" rock and the daylight illuminated his perfect silhouette and profile. Could any one person be that handsome? Just looking at him made my heart ache with longing. I wanted him to pull me in and kiss me tenderly, but the hilarious, confident man who I'd known for months had turned shy for the first time since I'd known him!
    Oh, good Lord—this was all me. "You've never had a good first kiss?" He turned, about to respond, when I quickly slid my slender fingers up his neck and held his head in my hand.
    My heart raced, and I pulled him closer, quickly, bracing myself by putting my other hand on his muscular forearm. I could feel goose bumps rising all over his skin. Then I closed my eyes and just breathed him in. He smelled just as I'd remembered him in my dream, musky, like my favorite forest, or a cave, moist from the rain. That's when I pulled him toward me, and I kissed him.
He took over after that, his arms encircling me, like I'd always belonged close to him. My lips quivered from the power of his touch. I'd wanted him to hold me for so long, feel those strong arms around me, melt into his embrace.
    His touch was electric, and for some reason so many emotions welled up within me, I could've cried. I'd been kissed before as a teenager, or even in recent months, but it always felt the same: childish, imperfect. The people I'd kissed had such boyish qualities. This was the first time in my life that I'd been kissed and the person kissing me exuded raw power, strength. I felt so much as an adult, a woman with a need to be close to this man. I realized I'd always had an innate desire to be needed, loved, cherished, and guarded. This was the first time in my life that I felt I'd found someone who could do all these things. And as we slowly parted from that first kiss, I felt breathless. How could I have known, I'd been holding so many emotions at bay until that very moment. I stared up at this man, so strong and free. I think that's when I knew I loved him.
    We remained locked in eachothers' arms, both breathing heavily. Me, shocked that the real kiss had been even better than the one in my dream. I couldn't believe I'd finally been brave enough to kiss him—and he'd kissed me back!
    I put my hand to his chest; it reminded me of the majestic cave walls. Then I whispered to him. "You lied. You said you'd never had a good first kiss. But, ya see, you have now."
    "You planned this whole thing! I've never felt so romanced in all my life!" He hugged me tight. I leaned my head into his chest and giggled. He rested his chin on the top of my head. "Ya know, I'd be lying if I told you I wasn't hoping for it."
    I pushed away and looked at him. "You didn't know what was coming. You had no idea I wanted to kiss you."
    He laughed, this deep laugh that echoed throughout the cave. "I hoped. Today you've been giving me doe eyes. Whenever you give me that face…oh, Gina—you drive me crazy. You've been driving me crazy for months."
    "At least I'm not a liar." I referenced my previous statement, then followed up with, "That was the dumbest line."
    "Oh, that I lied to you because I'd never had a good first kiss 'til today?" Then the expression on his face became more than playful and he stared tenderly into my eyes. "I'd like to lie to you again."
    "You would, huh?"
    Then he kissed me. And for a moment, we held each other like that as water dripped from the ceiling and plunked to the smooth rocks below.
    I had no idea what the future would hold, but I couldn't wait to see where this would lead. I thought of Mark's recent words, I've never felt so romanced in all my life. His confession made me grin.