E.C. Stilson's Blog, page 58
January 10, 2015
Do You Ever Get Scared Going On Dates?
SEVEN
A Grave
To read this story from the beginning, please go HERE
This is a work of fiction based on a true story....
"I'm in the area. Do you wanna go hiking?" I asked Mark on the phone.
"Sure, when?"
"I'll come pick you up right now."
"Right now?" He was obviously surprised. "Okay, see ya in a minute."
We decided to go to lunch first, to a little Greek place. While Mark was in the bathroom, I grinned mischievously, pulled a deck of cards from my purse, and dealt us each a hand.
The cards were sitting on the table when he got back. Meanwhile people at several surrounding tables looked at me like I'd gone crazy. One lady in particular "humphed" before she began eating her souvlaki again.
When Mark sat down he didn't even miss a beat. "Cards, huh? So what are we playin'?"
"Speed." I nodded to him in approval—ya know I think I might have been testing him, just waiting to see his reaction; so far so good.
We ended up playing such a fast-paced game. Neither of us took turns and the point of the game was to play as fast as you could and then draw, always keeping five cards in your hand. We laughed so hard that I think the waitress even got a kick out of it as she came over. "Well, this is a new one. Wish we weren't so busy, I'd want to be cut in!"
"Card games in a restaurant…she's always making me do crazy things," Mark said, pointing to me.
"Me? It's you?" I decided to lie, just to tease him. "He makes me bring these cards everywhere—he's such a gambling fanatic!" I batted my lashes innocently at the waitress.
"Gina!" Mark said. "You're the gambler!"
"What?" I couldn't believe he was willing to tease me back like that. "No one will believe you, ever! Not when they see my innocent face." The conversation continued 'til I was nearly in tears of laughter after hearing his witty replies. Now here was a man who would take some getting used to. He could fling BS back as fast as I could say it!
We both ordered the chicken souvlaki, rice pilaf, and a side salad. It was absolutely delicious, and I couldn't help noticing that my dear friend, Mark Marrucini, seemed somehow different to me.
I loved listening to his jokes even more than before, hearing him talk about anything he was passionate about. And the lunch ended up going so quickly, soon we were back in my van and driving along a canyon road leading to a cave I'd seen longingly a few times.
"You been to this cave?" I asked.
"I've hiked this area plenty of times. This is where I grew up—I know this canyon."
After we got out of the van, I couldn't shake the butterflies that kept fluttering in my stomach. At one point, his hand brushed mine and I nearly jumped away, then swatted my arm like I'd seen a mosquito.
Why in the world was I acting like such an idiot? I knew Mark so well, why did being around him feel…new and exciting?
As we walked along, I spied a lump in the grass to the side of the trail. Someone had placed wildflowers on the mound that looked suspiciously like a grave.
"What the?" I whispered, then scooted closer to Mark.
"I think someone died here," he said in a completely spooky voice.
"You aren't serious?"
"Oh, yes I am! Ooooooooo. Eeeeeooooooo! It's so scary!" He grabbed my arms and I screamed. His ghost imitation was a little too good. I slapped his arm.
"You jerk—you're scaring me!" I giggling, then quickly stopped. This seemed way too much like the beginning of a horror movie. There I stood in a tight tank top. Alone in the woods with a strong man with a wild beard, next to a… "What if it really IS a grave?" I asked.
"It's probably somebody's dog! You should see your face; you look terrified."
"Well, what if there's a serial killer around, just burying people…."
"Right next to the trail? No way."
"I bet weirder things have happened," I whispered.
"Yeah, like hikers getting freaked out about a dog's grave?"
"Haven't you seen PET SEMETARY? That was freaky." I stepped closer to him all the while looking up into his mirthful eyes.
"I could be a serial killer," he breathed deeply, "and you're in the woods with me!"
I turned white.
"Ooooooooo. Eeeeeooooooo! How will you make sure I won't kill you? Oooooooo."
"I'll be awfully charming? So fun I'm better alive than dead?"
"Done! Come on, Gina." He smiled. We walked farther up the trail, but I remained a few steps back. "Oh, you aren't scared," he said.
"Well, a little!"
"Seriously?" He stopped just before a spot where some water licked the side of the rocky trail. "I was just kidding earlier! I know you've been through some terrible things but you need to know that I'd stick by you through anything. I'd protect you and your kids no matter what. I care about you guys. And even though I know you don't need a man around, I'm here if you need anything. Really."
I could tell he meant every word. Maybe he'd never see me as more than a friend, but at least I'd always have him to hang out with. "You know I have your back too?" I asked.
"I know."
"And that's saying something! I used to be a security guard."
"Really! You? No way." He feigned surprise.
"I saved several people's lives on many different occasions. There was this one Italian guy…what was his name? He had broad shoulders, and was quite handsome—with blue eyes and a full beard. If I could just remember his name… Oh, that's right! It was Marrucini!" I'd been so caught up teasing him that I hadn't completely realized what I'd just confessed.
"Handsome, huh? Did you just say handsome?" An expression reminiscent of my dream played across his face.
I turned beet red. "Well, I didn't say I was talking about you! Loads of people have the last name Marrucini."
"Sure. Is that why I'm the last of my line?"
"Really? You are? You better have a kid…and quick!"
"If I could find someone I'd want to have a kid with..." he said.
"Smart man. Kids are lots of work, though! I'm pretty sure I'm done, but I guess you never know. I could've gotten fixed last Fall, but I never did. Just wasn't ready, not yet." The fact was, getting fixed made me feel super old, at least one thousand years old. That didn't mean I wanted another kid.
He looked thoughtfully at me. "Huh," he said.
"What do you think about dreams?" I asked, switching the topic.
"What about them?"
"Well, I had one that surprised me. I can't remember much of it," I lied, "but I think maybe I have some subconscious feelings that I wasn't aware of before. I'm pretty aware of them now."
"Probably so, trying to sort through things you weren't ready to confront in real life."
I stared at his lips for a second, then shook my head quickly. Maybe he was right.
We'd finally come to the end of the trail. "The cave's just around the corner, but it looks like the water's pretty high this year!" Mark spoke louder as water crashed against the rocks.
"So?" I said, wondering what he'd think about my next idea. "Let's go anyway!" I studied his reaction. He'd been willing to play cards in a restaurant. Would he jump in icy waters with me too? I was about to find out.
A Grave
To read this story from the beginning, please go HERE
This is a work of fiction based on a true story....
"I'm in the area. Do you wanna go hiking?" I asked Mark on the phone.
"Sure, when?"
"I'll come pick you up right now."
"Right now?" He was obviously surprised. "Okay, see ya in a minute."
We decided to go to lunch first, to a little Greek place. While Mark was in the bathroom, I grinned mischievously, pulled a deck of cards from my purse, and dealt us each a hand.
The cards were sitting on the table when he got back. Meanwhile people at several surrounding tables looked at me like I'd gone crazy. One lady in particular "humphed" before she began eating her souvlaki again.
When Mark sat down he didn't even miss a beat. "Cards, huh? So what are we playin'?"
"Speed." I nodded to him in approval—ya know I think I might have been testing him, just waiting to see his reaction; so far so good.
We ended up playing such a fast-paced game. Neither of us took turns and the point of the game was to play as fast as you could and then draw, always keeping five cards in your hand. We laughed so hard that I think the waitress even got a kick out of it as she came over. "Well, this is a new one. Wish we weren't so busy, I'd want to be cut in!"
"Card games in a restaurant…she's always making me do crazy things," Mark said, pointing to me.
"Me? It's you?" I decided to lie, just to tease him. "He makes me bring these cards everywhere—he's such a gambling fanatic!" I batted my lashes innocently at the waitress.
"Gina!" Mark said. "You're the gambler!"
"What?" I couldn't believe he was willing to tease me back like that. "No one will believe you, ever! Not when they see my innocent face." The conversation continued 'til I was nearly in tears of laughter after hearing his witty replies. Now here was a man who would take some getting used to. He could fling BS back as fast as I could say it!
We both ordered the chicken souvlaki, rice pilaf, and a side salad. It was absolutely delicious, and I couldn't help noticing that my dear friend, Mark Marrucini, seemed somehow different to me.
I loved listening to his jokes even more than before, hearing him talk about anything he was passionate about. And the lunch ended up going so quickly, soon we were back in my van and driving along a canyon road leading to a cave I'd seen longingly a few times.
"You been to this cave?" I asked.
"I've hiked this area plenty of times. This is where I grew up—I know this canyon."
After we got out of the van, I couldn't shake the butterflies that kept fluttering in my stomach. At one point, his hand brushed mine and I nearly jumped away, then swatted my arm like I'd seen a mosquito.
Why in the world was I acting like such an idiot? I knew Mark so well, why did being around him feel…new and exciting?
As we walked along, I spied a lump in the grass to the side of the trail. Someone had placed wildflowers on the mound that looked suspiciously like a grave.
"What the?" I whispered, then scooted closer to Mark.
"I think someone died here," he said in a completely spooky voice.
"You aren't serious?"
"Oh, yes I am! Ooooooooo. Eeeeeooooooo! It's so scary!" He grabbed my arms and I screamed. His ghost imitation was a little too good. I slapped his arm.
"You jerk—you're scaring me!" I giggling, then quickly stopped. This seemed way too much like the beginning of a horror movie. There I stood in a tight tank top. Alone in the woods with a strong man with a wild beard, next to a… "What if it really IS a grave?" I asked.
"It's probably somebody's dog! You should see your face; you look terrified."
"Well, what if there's a serial killer around, just burying people…."
"Right next to the trail? No way."
"I bet weirder things have happened," I whispered.
"Yeah, like hikers getting freaked out about a dog's grave?"
"Haven't you seen PET SEMETARY? That was freaky." I stepped closer to him all the while looking up into his mirthful eyes.
"I could be a serial killer," he breathed deeply, "and you're in the woods with me!"
I turned white.
"Ooooooooo. Eeeeeooooooo! How will you make sure I won't kill you? Oooooooo."
"I'll be awfully charming? So fun I'm better alive than dead?"
"Done! Come on, Gina." He smiled. We walked farther up the trail, but I remained a few steps back. "Oh, you aren't scared," he said.
"Well, a little!"
"Seriously?" He stopped just before a spot where some water licked the side of the rocky trail. "I was just kidding earlier! I know you've been through some terrible things but you need to know that I'd stick by you through anything. I'd protect you and your kids no matter what. I care about you guys. And even though I know you don't need a man around, I'm here if you need anything. Really."
I could tell he meant every word. Maybe he'd never see me as more than a friend, but at least I'd always have him to hang out with. "You know I have your back too?" I asked.
"I know."
"And that's saying something! I used to be a security guard."
"Really! You? No way." He feigned surprise.
"I saved several people's lives on many different occasions. There was this one Italian guy…what was his name? He had broad shoulders, and was quite handsome—with blue eyes and a full beard. If I could just remember his name… Oh, that's right! It was Marrucini!" I'd been so caught up teasing him that I hadn't completely realized what I'd just confessed.
"Handsome, huh? Did you just say handsome?" An expression reminiscent of my dream played across his face.
I turned beet red. "Well, I didn't say I was talking about you! Loads of people have the last name Marrucini."
"Sure. Is that why I'm the last of my line?"
"Really? You are? You better have a kid…and quick!"
"If I could find someone I'd want to have a kid with..." he said.
"Smart man. Kids are lots of work, though! I'm pretty sure I'm done, but I guess you never know. I could've gotten fixed last Fall, but I never did. Just wasn't ready, not yet." The fact was, getting fixed made me feel super old, at least one thousand years old. That didn't mean I wanted another kid.
He looked thoughtfully at me. "Huh," he said.
"What do you think about dreams?" I asked, switching the topic.
"What about them?"
"Well, I had one that surprised me. I can't remember much of it," I lied, "but I think maybe I have some subconscious feelings that I wasn't aware of before. I'm pretty aware of them now."
"Probably so, trying to sort through things you weren't ready to confront in real life."
I stared at his lips for a second, then shook my head quickly. Maybe he was right.
We'd finally come to the end of the trail. "The cave's just around the corner, but it looks like the water's pretty high this year!" Mark spoke louder as water crashed against the rocks.
"So?" I said, wondering what he'd think about my next idea. "Let's go anyway!" I studied his reaction. He'd been willing to play cards in a restaurant. Would he jump in icy waters with me too? I was about to find out.
January 9, 2015
I Dreamed About Kissing My Friend
A DREAM
SIX
To read this story from the beginning, please go HERE
This is a work of fiction based on a true story....
I sent out a mass message 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!
As I grew stronger from being away from my ex-boyfriend, The Schmuck, I blocked him and his wife; that's when things got crazy.
One day as I went outside, The Schmuck's wife was parked in front of my house. I could hardly believe she'd found out where I lived! She stood from her white SUV and just stared at me with so much malice before getting in her gorgeous vehicle and driving off. All I could think was "Damn, she looked much taller than I'd imagined from her Facebook profile picture. I wouldn't want to brawl with her—the highest I could punch might be her boob!"
The fact that she'd found my house scared me more than I can describe because before blocking The Schmuck (and his schmucky wife), the last email I'd received from her had said:
I wish you'd disappear. Leave my husband alone.
Something stank in our small town. I wasn't messaging him at all—why did she think we were still in contact? I wondered if he'd made it look like I was messaging him, somehow? He'd done manipulative things like that to me—making terrible accusations about his wife that I eventually doubted were true. Why not make her hate me? I bet it took the blame off of him.
So I called the cops.
"I dated a married man," I confessed, like the cop was a judge and not just a regular officer. "I'm not proud of how things turned out, especially since I realized he was living with her, and then it still took me a month to completely get away."
"It's okay, Ma'am," the cop sounded honestly sad. "We get calls like this a lot. Now what's the trouble?"
"Well, his wife just showed up at my house. I don't even know how she found out where I live." So many emotions hit me that tears came to my eyes. Why was I going through this? I hadn't known he wasn't really getting divorced. I didn't WANT to know what it was like being the "other woman." After finding out, I really wasn't a fan of it.
"You may need to file a stalking injunction. Let me get their names and then I'll come over and file a report.… Hang on a sec…. All right, I've got my computer up. What are their names?"
I told him and for a moment it sounded as if he'd swallowed a golf ball. "I'll have to send someone else. I can't handle this case."
"What? Why?"
"Because…" He paused. "She's my cousin. And off the record, this isn't her husband's first affair. It's a good thing you got away; he's done this a lot. And as far as she goes, I would report this. You never know if all this has finally driven her crazy."
He ended up giving my number to another cop who called me shortly after. The whole time I remained shocked that The Schmuck's own in-laws had warned me about both him and his wife.
The next day I got a text from a number I'd never seen before:
Thanks for calling the cops! Now the entire family knows about the affair.
Karma in action IS kind of fun.
"Mark, how are you?" I called him shortly after.
"I'm better. A lot of the puppies died. But a few made it. At least the worst of it is over." His voice was tired, worn.
"Isn't it crazy how life can throw such curve balls?"
"It's what makes us stronger," he replied.
"I don't know how you've made it through all of that. It must have been terrible."
"Yeah, well…. I don't know how you've made it through everything that you have."
He was kind of a mysterious sort of guy—very intelligent, very deep. His personality and point of view continually impressed me. I couldn't wait to hear what he'd say next, or what strange argument he'd form when we were talking about why God did or didn't exist. "Mark, I'm really glad you're in my life. You make me want to be a better person, a better mother, a better friend."
That night as I snuggled in bed, the covers felt extra warm. I'd just kissed all of my kids "goodnight," and they hadn't given me as hard of a time as they normally did—that alone felt like Heaven.
But as I slept, I was shocked by a dream.
I talked to Mark. We'd had a bunch of wine, but instead of him sitting far away, he sat right next to where I rested. I yawned, getting ready to close my eyes. That's when he leaned down. "There's something I've wanted to tell you," he said. And in my dream, my breath caught in my chest.
Moonlight drifted through my front window and framed him perfectly. I could just make out his blue eyes and chiseled features. He looked down at me in a way he'd never done in real life. He seemed eager, passionate, resolved.
"Gina, I want to be with you, more than I've ever wanted anything. I want to grow old with you. Experience everything with you. Our friendship is amazing, but I'd be lying if I didn't tell you that I want more."
Tears came to my eyes and I sat up so we faced each other, our hips touching, our faces only inches apart. His broad shoulders dwarfed my own, and the smell of his body so near to mine made my heart tremble. "Mark, I think I've loved you for such a long time. I've been fighting it."
I put my hand to his face, daring to touch his beard and cheek for the first time in my life. He kissed my wrist so tenderly, and the corners of his lips turned up with sudden mirth. I quickly put my hands back into my lap and looked at them shyly. When I dared to look up, he smiled and moved some hair from my face. Then, before I could even protest, he gently slid his calloused fingers up my neck and held my head in his calloused hand.
My heart raced, He pulled me closer, ever so slowly, and goose bumps rose all over my arms. I closed my eyes and just breathed him in. He smelled musky, like my favorite forest, or the mountains after the rain soaks into the refreshing moss. That's when he kissed me.
His full lips fit mine perfectly and I melted into his arms as he pulled me in, moving rhythmically like we were made for each other, and were always meant to be. He picked me up, his arms flexing as he set me on his lap. Our eyes met for time on end, then I hugged him and cried.
That's when the dream ended.
I shook my head. What kind of a dream was that? I didn't like Mark as more than a friend, yet I'd had a dream about kissing him? Oh, and that kiss—THAT was a good time. And the way he'd looked at me!
What if I thought about the dream the next time I saw him? I instantly blushed and pulled the covers close around my neck.
My eyes shut tight and I tried going back to sleep, but instead, I stayed awake feeling quite bewildered, wondering what the dream had meant.
SIX
To read this story from the beginning, please go HERE
This is a work of fiction based on a true story....
I sent out a mass message 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!
As I grew stronger from being away from my ex-boyfriend, The Schmuck, I blocked him and his wife; that's when things got crazy.
One day as I went outside, The Schmuck's wife was parked in front of my house. I could hardly believe she'd found out where I lived! She stood from her white SUV and just stared at me with so much malice before getting in her gorgeous vehicle and driving off. All I could think was "Damn, she looked much taller than I'd imagined from her Facebook profile picture. I wouldn't want to brawl with her—the highest I could punch might be her boob!"
The fact that she'd found my house scared me more than I can describe because before blocking The Schmuck (and his schmucky wife), the last email I'd received from her had said:
I wish you'd disappear. Leave my husband alone.
Something stank in our small town. I wasn't messaging him at all—why did she think we were still in contact? I wondered if he'd made it look like I was messaging him, somehow? He'd done manipulative things like that to me—making terrible accusations about his wife that I eventually doubted were true. Why not make her hate me? I bet it took the blame off of him.
So I called the cops.
"I dated a married man," I confessed, like the cop was a judge and not just a regular officer. "I'm not proud of how things turned out, especially since I realized he was living with her, and then it still took me a month to completely get away."
"It's okay, Ma'am," the cop sounded honestly sad. "We get calls like this a lot. Now what's the trouble?"
"Well, his wife just showed up at my house. I don't even know how she found out where I live." So many emotions hit me that tears came to my eyes. Why was I going through this? I hadn't known he wasn't really getting divorced. I didn't WANT to know what it was like being the "other woman." After finding out, I really wasn't a fan of it.
"You may need to file a stalking injunction. Let me get their names and then I'll come over and file a report.… Hang on a sec…. All right, I've got my computer up. What are their names?"
I told him and for a moment it sounded as if he'd swallowed a golf ball. "I'll have to send someone else. I can't handle this case."
"What? Why?"
"Because…" He paused. "She's my cousin. And off the record, this isn't her husband's first affair. It's a good thing you got away; he's done this a lot. And as far as she goes, I would report this. You never know if all this has finally driven her crazy."
He ended up giving my number to another cop who called me shortly after. The whole time I remained shocked that The Schmuck's own in-laws had warned me about both him and his wife.
The next day I got a text from a number I'd never seen before:
Thanks for calling the cops! Now the entire family knows about the affair.
Karma in action IS kind of fun.
"Mark, how are you?" I called him shortly after.
"I'm better. A lot of the puppies died. But a few made it. At least the worst of it is over." His voice was tired, worn.
"Isn't it crazy how life can throw such curve balls?"
"It's what makes us stronger," he replied.
"I don't know how you've made it through all of that. It must have been terrible."
"Yeah, well…. I don't know how you've made it through everything that you have."
He was kind of a mysterious sort of guy—very intelligent, very deep. His personality and point of view continually impressed me. I couldn't wait to hear what he'd say next, or what strange argument he'd form when we were talking about why God did or didn't exist. "Mark, I'm really glad you're in my life. You make me want to be a better person, a better mother, a better friend."
That night as I snuggled in bed, the covers felt extra warm. I'd just kissed all of my kids "goodnight," and they hadn't given me as hard of a time as they normally did—that alone felt like Heaven.
But as I slept, I was shocked by a dream.
I talked to Mark. We'd had a bunch of wine, but instead of him sitting far away, he sat right next to where I rested. I yawned, getting ready to close my eyes. That's when he leaned down. "There's something I've wanted to tell you," he said. And in my dream, my breath caught in my chest.
Moonlight drifted through my front window and framed him perfectly. I could just make out his blue eyes and chiseled features. He looked down at me in a way he'd never done in real life. He seemed eager, passionate, resolved.
"Gina, I want to be with you, more than I've ever wanted anything. I want to grow old with you. Experience everything with you. Our friendship is amazing, but I'd be lying if I didn't tell you that I want more."
Tears came to my eyes and I sat up so we faced each other, our hips touching, our faces only inches apart. His broad shoulders dwarfed my own, and the smell of his body so near to mine made my heart tremble. "Mark, I think I've loved you for such a long time. I've been fighting it."
I put my hand to his face, daring to touch his beard and cheek for the first time in my life. He kissed my wrist so tenderly, and the corners of his lips turned up with sudden mirth. I quickly put my hands back into my lap and looked at them shyly. When I dared to look up, he smiled and moved some hair from my face. Then, before I could even protest, he gently slid his calloused fingers up my neck and held my head in his calloused hand.
My heart raced, He pulled me closer, ever so slowly, and goose bumps rose all over my arms. I closed my eyes and just breathed him in. He smelled musky, like my favorite forest, or the mountains after the rain soaks into the refreshing moss. That's when he kissed me.
His full lips fit mine perfectly and I melted into his arms as he pulled me in, moving rhythmically like we were made for each other, and were always meant to be. He picked me up, his arms flexing as he set me on his lap. Our eyes met for time on end, then I hugged him and cried.
That's when the dream ended.
I shook my head. What kind of a dream was that? I didn't like Mark as more than a friend, yet I'd had a dream about kissing him? Oh, and that kiss—THAT was a good time. And the way he'd looked at me!
What if I thought about the dream the next time I saw him? I instantly blushed and pulled the covers close around my neck.
My eyes shut tight and I tried going back to sleep, but instead, I stayed awake feeling quite bewildered, wondering what the dream had meant.
January 8, 2015
Have You Ever Been Happy Being Alone
Gingerbread HousesFIVE
I tried acting like I was fine at work, but I couldn't maintain my normally happy demeanor. I felt betrayed, lied to, used, by a man who was manipulative and not even worth the pain in the first place—and yet I stayed with him, hoping somehow that would heal my self-esteem; you see, if he finally treated me well, that would have proven something, that I had worth. When 4am rolled around, I hadn't finished my paperwork, and I hoped this meant Mark wouldn't talk to me when he saw me busily typing. But he'd grown to know me well enough that he wouldn't leave without making sure I was okay. "No. I'm not all right," I sobbed. And I told him the whole damn story: About my ex-husband and everything that led to my divorce. About The Schmuck and being the other woman. As I cried I was shocked to see tears brim in his eyes as well."Oh, Gina. You're worth so much more than this. It'll be okay. I swear." That was easy for him to say. He was dating an amazing girl. His gorgeous dog had recently had a litter of puppies. His life was gravy. "You wanna hang out sometime, outside of work? I gotta get back in there, but you know I'm around if you ever need to talk." "Thanks, Mark." I officially broke up with The Schmuck within the next month. I'm embarrassed to say that it took so long. I guess I just needed absolute proof before ending it. I never got the physical proof I wanted, but I did get phone calls from two of his coworkers—who we'd both known before dating—and from one of his relatives who'd gotten my number at a party. "He was living with her the whole time, Gina. I'm sorry to tell you, but he was. He even took you on vacation one week, then took her the next."That was it—I really needed a friend, and Mark was the best out there. "Mark," I called him out of the blue one day, "wanna come make gingerbread houses?" He wasn't busy, so he headed over. My four kids sat trying to eat all of the icing that was supposed to glue the houses together. "So…these are my kids," I whispered, looking at my kitchen. Gumdrops littered the floor. Green icing dripped down the back wall, and gingerbread cutouts sprawled all over the counter. "Guys, this is Mark." All four of them suddenly looked up with round eyes. "We'll divide into two teams," I said. "Boys against girls?" "Deal!" Mark and my son said, and I wondered how my friend would handle being thrown into the fire like this. So we started. My three daughters and I haphazardly slapped our gingerbread house together. White and green icing oozed from every crack. My youngest daughter—only three—pushed skittles into every bare spot she could find and the poor house turned lopsided under the pressure. Meanwhile the boys' house looked like Better Homes and Gardens with a walkway leading to the front door. Mark had made the house's windows with freakin' planters in front of them—for crying out loud. I was fine with defeat, until the boys started making ornate trees purely from icing.Like a recording screeching to a halt—I glared at Mark."You brought wine?" I asked. "Sure did. It's a really good one too." "Great, 'cause I need some!" After putting the kids to bed—which wasn't hard since they were exhausted after hours of crafting—I slammed two coffee cups onto the counter. "No wine glasses?"Did he think I was the duchess of Wales? If so, he'd pegged ME wrong. At least I was onto HIM—after that gingerbread madness I suddenly thought he was a cake decorator! "Nope, just good old-fashioned coffee cups." And I proceeded to—over the course of two hours—make him drink the whole bottle of wine with me. I don't remember much of our conversation after a certain point, but I do remember one thing he said. "I broke up with her." If that didn't make my ears perk, I didn't know what would. "But she's pwerfect for you," I slurred, suddenly the devil's damn advocate. "You can't be having relationship problems. You just can't. It's nwot fair if we're both sad." I origamied onto a small couch, and he sat politely on a seat perpendicular to mine. I must have fallen asleep at one point because he whispered, standing above me, "Gina,it's been a bit. I'm sober and I'm going home now." I sat up too quickly and my head throbbed. "Drive safe?" I put a hand to my temple. He just smiled down at me. "You're ridiculous. I had fun tonight." "Me too…." I smiled, rested my head back on the cold leather couch once more and fell asleep before I even heard the door click shut. We hung out a few times after that, went sledding, cooked a couple meals. The kids really liked Mark. And I had to admit that I liked him too—but just as a friend, always as a friend, after all, I'd sworn off dating men. Guys would always act sweet and then they'd turn—like freakin' vampires—and there was no going back. Plus, if a guy WAS nice, I could never fall for him, not really; guess I was just hardwired for sorrow or something. I ended up deciding to go back to school and consequently quit job. I worried, wondering how I'd survive without my 4am visits, but surprisingly enough, our friendship deepened after I quit. One day, Mark called me during the day when he should have been sleeping after working graves. I instantly knew something was wrong. "Just cheer me up, Gina. Say something funny." "Are you okay?" "You know how my dog had puppies?" "Yeah." I clutched the phone. It was so hard hearing that pain in his voice and not being nearby to make sure he was all right. "Well, they all got parvo and some of them have already died." His voice quivered, normally so strong and manly, the change broke my heart. "My dog, Abby, well I fell asleep when she was in labor and she wouldn't even finish pushing the puppies out until I woke up. It was hard, and now this. What am I supposed to do, just let them die?" "Is there anything I can do to help?" "No. I'm doing everything I can. Trying to keep them hydrated, and all the other things the doctor said, but it doesn't seem to be enough. I just called you 'cause you always make me feel better." I wouldn't let him down, not now. We talked for a while and somehow the conversation turned a little bit lighter. And even though he was still awfully sad, I think he felt a bit better. "I think I can try and sleep now," he said. "Call me if you need anything. I'm here." "I know, Gina. Thank you." "Mark, I really care about you. Your friendship means the world to me." Then I hung up. The conversation made me realize how much his friendship did mean to me. He'd taken a special place in my heart, and I felt he was quite irreplaceable. What a strange turn of events, work as a security guard and gain a best friend. I did some schoolwork, the whole time hoping Mark and his puppies would be okay. As I worked, The Schmuck texted me out of the blue, saying he wasn't with his wife anymore and he wanted me back. That same night his wife found me onfacebook and started messaging me terrible things calling me an "easy lay," saying she'd tell my neighbors what I'd done. It only took moments to decide that I shouldn't respond. After all, good friends had encouraged me to take the high road and not "return to my woes." And, when I thought about who really mattered, I thought about my children, my family, and my friends, new and old. I felt so grateful to be out of the terrible situations I'd lived through. Equally grateful to have such wonderful people in my life. For the first time in over a decade I realized, this peacefulness was because I finally felt happy being alone.
I tried acting like I was fine at work, but I couldn't maintain my normally happy demeanor. I felt betrayed, lied to, used, by a man who was manipulative and not even worth the pain in the first place—and yet I stayed with him, hoping somehow that would heal my self-esteem; you see, if he finally treated me well, that would have proven something, that I had worth. When 4am rolled around, I hadn't finished my paperwork, and I hoped this meant Mark wouldn't talk to me when he saw me busily typing. But he'd grown to know me well enough that he wouldn't leave without making sure I was okay. "No. I'm not all right," I sobbed. And I told him the whole damn story: About my ex-husband and everything that led to my divorce. About The Schmuck and being the other woman. As I cried I was shocked to see tears brim in his eyes as well."Oh, Gina. You're worth so much more than this. It'll be okay. I swear." That was easy for him to say. He was dating an amazing girl. His gorgeous dog had recently had a litter of puppies. His life was gravy. "You wanna hang out sometime, outside of work? I gotta get back in there, but you know I'm around if you ever need to talk." "Thanks, Mark." I officially broke up with The Schmuck within the next month. I'm embarrassed to say that it took so long. I guess I just needed absolute proof before ending it. I never got the physical proof I wanted, but I did get phone calls from two of his coworkers—who we'd both known before dating—and from one of his relatives who'd gotten my number at a party. "He was living with her the whole time, Gina. I'm sorry to tell you, but he was. He even took you on vacation one week, then took her the next."That was it—I really needed a friend, and Mark was the best out there. "Mark," I called him out of the blue one day, "wanna come make gingerbread houses?" He wasn't busy, so he headed over. My four kids sat trying to eat all of the icing that was supposed to glue the houses together. "So…these are my kids," I whispered, looking at my kitchen. Gumdrops littered the floor. Green icing dripped down the back wall, and gingerbread cutouts sprawled all over the counter. "Guys, this is Mark." All four of them suddenly looked up with round eyes. "We'll divide into two teams," I said. "Boys against girls?" "Deal!" Mark and my son said, and I wondered how my friend would handle being thrown into the fire like this. So we started. My three daughters and I haphazardly slapped our gingerbread house together. White and green icing oozed from every crack. My youngest daughter—only three—pushed skittles into every bare spot she could find and the poor house turned lopsided under the pressure. Meanwhile the boys' house looked like Better Homes and Gardens with a walkway leading to the front door. Mark had made the house's windows with freakin' planters in front of them—for crying out loud. I was fine with defeat, until the boys started making ornate trees purely from icing.Like a recording screeching to a halt—I glared at Mark."You brought wine?" I asked. "Sure did. It's a really good one too." "Great, 'cause I need some!" After putting the kids to bed—which wasn't hard since they were exhausted after hours of crafting—I slammed two coffee cups onto the counter. "No wine glasses?"Did he think I was the duchess of Wales? If so, he'd pegged ME wrong. At least I was onto HIM—after that gingerbread madness I suddenly thought he was a cake decorator! "Nope, just good old-fashioned coffee cups." And I proceeded to—over the course of two hours—make him drink the whole bottle of wine with me. I don't remember much of our conversation after a certain point, but I do remember one thing he said. "I broke up with her." If that didn't make my ears perk, I didn't know what would. "But she's pwerfect for you," I slurred, suddenly the devil's damn advocate. "You can't be having relationship problems. You just can't. It's nwot fair if we're both sad." I origamied onto a small couch, and he sat politely on a seat perpendicular to mine. I must have fallen asleep at one point because he whispered, standing above me, "Gina,it's been a bit. I'm sober and I'm going home now." I sat up too quickly and my head throbbed. "Drive safe?" I put a hand to my temple. He just smiled down at me. "You're ridiculous. I had fun tonight." "Me too…." I smiled, rested my head back on the cold leather couch once more and fell asleep before I even heard the door click shut. We hung out a few times after that, went sledding, cooked a couple meals. The kids really liked Mark. And I had to admit that I liked him too—but just as a friend, always as a friend, after all, I'd sworn off dating men. Guys would always act sweet and then they'd turn—like freakin' vampires—and there was no going back. Plus, if a guy WAS nice, I could never fall for him, not really; guess I was just hardwired for sorrow or something. I ended up deciding to go back to school and consequently quit job. I worried, wondering how I'd survive without my 4am visits, but surprisingly enough, our friendship deepened after I quit. One day, Mark called me during the day when he should have been sleeping after working graves. I instantly knew something was wrong. "Just cheer me up, Gina. Say something funny." "Are you okay?" "You know how my dog had puppies?" "Yeah." I clutched the phone. It was so hard hearing that pain in his voice and not being nearby to make sure he was all right. "Well, they all got parvo and some of them have already died." His voice quivered, normally so strong and manly, the change broke my heart. "My dog, Abby, well I fell asleep when she was in labor and she wouldn't even finish pushing the puppies out until I woke up. It was hard, and now this. What am I supposed to do, just let them die?" "Is there anything I can do to help?" "No. I'm doing everything I can. Trying to keep them hydrated, and all the other things the doctor said, but it doesn't seem to be enough. I just called you 'cause you always make me feel better." I wouldn't let him down, not now. We talked for a while and somehow the conversation turned a little bit lighter. And even though he was still awfully sad, I think he felt a bit better. "I think I can try and sleep now," he said. "Call me if you need anything. I'm here." "I know, Gina. Thank you." "Mark, I really care about you. Your friendship means the world to me." Then I hung up. The conversation made me realize how much his friendship did mean to me. He'd taken a special place in my heart, and I felt he was quite irreplaceable. What a strange turn of events, work as a security guard and gain a best friend. I did some schoolwork, the whole time hoping Mark and his puppies would be okay. As I worked, The Schmuck texted me out of the blue, saying he wasn't with his wife anymore and he wanted me back. That same night his wife found me onfacebook and started messaging me terrible things calling me an "easy lay," saying she'd tell my neighbors what I'd done. It only took moments to decide that I shouldn't respond. After all, good friends had encouraged me to take the high road and not "return to my woes." And, when I thought about who really mattered, I thought about my children, my family, and my friends, new and old. I felt so grateful to be out of the terrible situations I'd lived through. Equally grateful to have such wonderful people in my life. For the first time in over a decade I realized, this peacefulness was because I finally felt happy being alone.
January 7, 2015
What's the dumbest thing you've ever said when trying to impress someone?
.
FOUR
Morning Rendezvous
To read this from the beginning, please go HERE
"I'm having a big Halloween party," Mark said, coming in one morning. "You should come."
Well, there were a few problems with that:
One…my boss would kill me if he knew I'd hung out with coworkers outside of work.
Two…The Schmuck would kill me if he knew I'd hung out with coworkers. After all, I'd told him we could be exclusive again, as long as he didn't stand me up anymore. Shockingly he'd actually shaped up and was treating me fairly well.
And three…Mark's girlfriend would probably be at the party. I'd heard from various coworkers what a big deal it was and was sure the girlfriend would fly out for it.
I kept telling myself how happy I was for everyone in the world—especially Mark—'cause things were just hunky-dory! But I still did not want to meet his girlfriend!
"I'll think about it," I said. "But I'm not supposed to hang out with coworkers, since I'm the guard here. My boss says it'd interfere with my authority."
At this Mark laughed pretty hard. I loved his laugh—every second of it. His full lips spread wide into a smile that just made me happy.
"What do you do for fun?" I asked, too curious to keep quiet.
"I like hiking and kayaking," he said. "You?"
"Hiking and caving. I've never been kayaking."
"Caving? That's ridiculous!" he teased me.
"Right?! This lady in Southern Utah trained me. I guess she leads all the rescue missions in that area if people get lost in the mountains. Or stuck in caves. But she's so hardcore; she brings a diaper with her into the caves! Sometimes she's in there for up to twelve hours—and real spelunkers never pee in caves."
"So…do you…wear diapers in caves?"
I suddenly felt like the world's biggest idiot. I'd hardly talked with this man, and now I was telling him about diapers?
"No. I hate diapers. Wouldn't even wear one to save a child lost in a cave." I realized my mistake right after I'd said it. OF COURSE I'd wear a diaper to save a child—I'd just never admit that to anyone.
"So…you don't like children?" He must have known I didn't mean it, 'cause he obviously held back some amusement.
"I love children. Hell, I have four of them."
I wanted to be friends with this guy at work. What in the world was I doing?
He left shortly after and I spent several hours doing paperwork and replaying our embarrassing conversation a million times in my head.
The next night I decided he'd never come see me again. But, he did.
Time passed; the Halloween party came and went. Everyone talked about it, saying Mark Marrucini threw the best parties, and did you see what so-and-so wore, or can you believe who so-and-so's dating?
Throughout that entire time, Mark visited me every morning at 4am. He'd spend his break up there and I'd diligently have my paperwork done by the time he was due to arrive. We talked about anything and everything, philosophy, nature, religion, politics… I learned about his girlfriend and family; he learned about my boyfriend and family as well. After weeks upon weeks had passed, we became quite good friends and I gave him my number.
It was around this time, that I told The Schmuck about Mark. "It's weird, but he's just a friend—a really good friend."
"I don't like your job," The Schmuck said. "Too many guys work there. You need to buy yourself a nice ring and wear it on your wedding finger!"
"I'm not gonna do that," I scoffed. "Not unless I actually get married someday—which is doubtful." The thought was so absurd.
He didn't find any of this amusing in the least. "You haven't broken up with me in a while, Gina. What's the deal with that?"
I got a strange premonition that the only reason he liked me was because I'd kept breaking up with him. Maybe men like him always want what is never truly theirs.
"I haven't broken up with you because you haven't stood me up in a while."
"Speaking of, what are you doing tonight?" he asked.
"Umm… Hanging out with some girls from my divorce counseling group."
"Will any guys be there?"
"No. Just girls."
"What about this Mark guy? Are you going to a bar? Will he be there?"
"Chill out! No." I worked to hold my anger…and even fear at bay. "I haven't hung out with him outside of work. Plus, we're totally friends."
"You better not wear anything tight. If I find out you've worn something tight—or if guys are there…"
"You know what? I need to get off this phone. It's time for me to leave."
"You're just gonna end the call like that?"
"During your reign of terror, yeah! I'm not your wife and I don't have to do what you say anyway."
At the mention of his "wife" his attitude changed somewhat. He chuckled in an almost evil way. "Just call me when you're home, sunshine. Your ex has the kids?"
"Yeah, he does." I paused thinking about how manipulative the conversation had somehow seemed. "I won't be back 'til really late though. I don't wanna bug you—if I call too late. You got mad last time."
"That was weeks ago. Call me. And remember you'll be calling me. Don't hook up with anyone else. I wanna see you tonight!" Don't hook up with anybody else." And the fact remained, part of me never wanted to hook up with him again. I hung up the phone, and left my house.
I had an all right time with my friends, but couldn't shake the sudden fear I'd felt invading my resolve. After getting home, I called The Schmuck right away, almost worried he was waiting around the corner and would know when I got home anyway. I soon became more realistic, and told myself to calm down. It was well after 1am and he didn't answer. I prepared a text to be doubly sure—didn't want him getting angry.
Swear, to God, I didn't wear anything tight….
I typed.
I'd never cheat on you—please don't worry about that anymore. I know I can be friendly and nice, but I'd never cheat, really.
Before I could hit "send," my phone rang.
"Hello?" I said.
"Who is this!" a woman yelled into the phone.
I pulled the cell away from my ear and looked at the name—yep it really was a call from his phone. "Gina…this is Gina. You're calling from my boyfriend's phone?"
"Boyfriend! He's MY husband."
I felt physically sick. So many thoughts rushed through my head. "But you don't live together. The two of you are getting divorced. You haven't lived together for months and months."
"Is that what he told you? The bastard is sleeping in our bed right now!" The phone sounded muffled for a minute, then I heard her screaming in her high-pitched voice, "Wake up! I have your mistress on the phone. Say something so she knows you're here. Say it!"
Mistress—that's something I'd NEVER wanted to be called.
But as she supposedly held the phone to him, I didn't hear a word from that man. Not a damn word. Strangely enough, by the end of the call I'd talked to The Schmuck's wife for two hours and I still had no absolute proof that he'd been there. From the best I could figure, when he'd been with me, he told her he was hunting (hunting what…I wonder, tail?). When he'd been with her during the week, he told me he was working out of town.
I cried the rest of the night. The Schmuck called me in the morning. "I wasn't there! I accidentally left my phone at her house when I dropped our kids off. Why do you think you never heard me? 'Cause she was making it up!"
And as dumb as it might sound…I didn't know what to believe. I was in a hapless relationship, completely not worth my time, yet I decided to wait a few days to see what would happen...and I believed the imbecile.
At work the next night, I drank four energy drinks to stay awake. And for the first time in months, I didn't want to talk with Mark Marrucini. I didn't want him seeing me so sad because I knew he'd pretty much become my best friend and if I could pour out my heart to anyone—if I could cry to any other person on earth—it would be him. That alone was mortifying.
FOUR
Morning Rendezvous
To read this from the beginning, please go HERE
"I'm having a big Halloween party," Mark said, coming in one morning. "You should come."
Well, there were a few problems with that:
One…my boss would kill me if he knew I'd hung out with coworkers outside of work.
Two…The Schmuck would kill me if he knew I'd hung out with coworkers. After all, I'd told him we could be exclusive again, as long as he didn't stand me up anymore. Shockingly he'd actually shaped up and was treating me fairly well.
And three…Mark's girlfriend would probably be at the party. I'd heard from various coworkers what a big deal it was and was sure the girlfriend would fly out for it.
I kept telling myself how happy I was for everyone in the world—especially Mark—'cause things were just hunky-dory! But I still did not want to meet his girlfriend!
"I'll think about it," I said. "But I'm not supposed to hang out with coworkers, since I'm the guard here. My boss says it'd interfere with my authority."
At this Mark laughed pretty hard. I loved his laugh—every second of it. His full lips spread wide into a smile that just made me happy.
"What do you do for fun?" I asked, too curious to keep quiet.
"I like hiking and kayaking," he said. "You?"
"Hiking and caving. I've never been kayaking."
"Caving? That's ridiculous!" he teased me.
"Right?! This lady in Southern Utah trained me. I guess she leads all the rescue missions in that area if people get lost in the mountains. Or stuck in caves. But she's so hardcore; she brings a diaper with her into the caves! Sometimes she's in there for up to twelve hours—and real spelunkers never pee in caves."
"So…do you…wear diapers in caves?"
I suddenly felt like the world's biggest idiot. I'd hardly talked with this man, and now I was telling him about diapers?
"No. I hate diapers. Wouldn't even wear one to save a child lost in a cave." I realized my mistake right after I'd said it. OF COURSE I'd wear a diaper to save a child—I'd just never admit that to anyone.
"So…you don't like children?" He must have known I didn't mean it, 'cause he obviously held back some amusement.
"I love children. Hell, I have four of them."
I wanted to be friends with this guy at work. What in the world was I doing?
He left shortly after and I spent several hours doing paperwork and replaying our embarrassing conversation a million times in my head.
The next night I decided he'd never come see me again. But, he did.
Time passed; the Halloween party came and went. Everyone talked about it, saying Mark Marrucini threw the best parties, and did you see what so-and-so wore, or can you believe who so-and-so's dating?
Throughout that entire time, Mark visited me every morning at 4am. He'd spend his break up there and I'd diligently have my paperwork done by the time he was due to arrive. We talked about anything and everything, philosophy, nature, religion, politics… I learned about his girlfriend and family; he learned about my boyfriend and family as well. After weeks upon weeks had passed, we became quite good friends and I gave him my number.
It was around this time, that I told The Schmuck about Mark. "It's weird, but he's just a friend—a really good friend."
"I don't like your job," The Schmuck said. "Too many guys work there. You need to buy yourself a nice ring and wear it on your wedding finger!"
"I'm not gonna do that," I scoffed. "Not unless I actually get married someday—which is doubtful." The thought was so absurd.
He didn't find any of this amusing in the least. "You haven't broken up with me in a while, Gina. What's the deal with that?"
I got a strange premonition that the only reason he liked me was because I'd kept breaking up with him. Maybe men like him always want what is never truly theirs.
"I haven't broken up with you because you haven't stood me up in a while."
"Speaking of, what are you doing tonight?" he asked.
"Umm… Hanging out with some girls from my divorce counseling group."
"Will any guys be there?"
"No. Just girls."
"What about this Mark guy? Are you going to a bar? Will he be there?"
"Chill out! No." I worked to hold my anger…and even fear at bay. "I haven't hung out with him outside of work. Plus, we're totally friends."
"You better not wear anything tight. If I find out you've worn something tight—or if guys are there…"
"You know what? I need to get off this phone. It's time for me to leave."
"You're just gonna end the call like that?"
"During your reign of terror, yeah! I'm not your wife and I don't have to do what you say anyway."
At the mention of his "wife" his attitude changed somewhat. He chuckled in an almost evil way. "Just call me when you're home, sunshine. Your ex has the kids?"
"Yeah, he does." I paused thinking about how manipulative the conversation had somehow seemed. "I won't be back 'til really late though. I don't wanna bug you—if I call too late. You got mad last time."
"That was weeks ago. Call me. And remember you'll be calling me. Don't hook up with anyone else. I wanna see you tonight!" Don't hook up with anybody else." And the fact remained, part of me never wanted to hook up with him again. I hung up the phone, and left my house.
I had an all right time with my friends, but couldn't shake the sudden fear I'd felt invading my resolve. After getting home, I called The Schmuck right away, almost worried he was waiting around the corner and would know when I got home anyway. I soon became more realistic, and told myself to calm down. It was well after 1am and he didn't answer. I prepared a text to be doubly sure—didn't want him getting angry.
Swear, to God, I didn't wear anything tight….
I typed.
I'd never cheat on you—please don't worry about that anymore. I know I can be friendly and nice, but I'd never cheat, really.
Before I could hit "send," my phone rang.
"Hello?" I said.
"Who is this!" a woman yelled into the phone.
I pulled the cell away from my ear and looked at the name—yep it really was a call from his phone. "Gina…this is Gina. You're calling from my boyfriend's phone?"
"Boyfriend! He's MY husband."
I felt physically sick. So many thoughts rushed through my head. "But you don't live together. The two of you are getting divorced. You haven't lived together for months and months."
"Is that what he told you? The bastard is sleeping in our bed right now!" The phone sounded muffled for a minute, then I heard her screaming in her high-pitched voice, "Wake up! I have your mistress on the phone. Say something so she knows you're here. Say it!"
Mistress—that's something I'd NEVER wanted to be called.
But as she supposedly held the phone to him, I didn't hear a word from that man. Not a damn word. Strangely enough, by the end of the call I'd talked to The Schmuck's wife for two hours and I still had no absolute proof that he'd been there. From the best I could figure, when he'd been with me, he told her he was hunting (hunting what…I wonder, tail?). When he'd been with her during the week, he told me he was working out of town.I cried the rest of the night. The Schmuck called me in the morning. "I wasn't there! I accidentally left my phone at her house when I dropped our kids off. Why do you think you never heard me? 'Cause she was making it up!"
And as dumb as it might sound…I didn't know what to believe. I was in a hapless relationship, completely not worth my time, yet I decided to wait a few days to see what would happen...and I believed the imbecile.
At work the next night, I drank four energy drinks to stay awake. And for the first time in months, I didn't want to talk with Mark Marrucini. I didn't want him seeing me so sad because I knew he'd pretty much become my best friend and if I could pour out my heart to anyone—if I could cry to any other person on earth—it would be him. That alone was mortifying.
January 6, 2015
Have You Ever Had a Fling?
THREE
A Name Worth Remembering
To read this from the beginning, please go HERE .
"I'm here for my paystub, please," a low voice.
I'd been so busy filling out safety reports, I didn't even notice anyone walk down the hallway, or come into the front room.
I nodded. "Just one second." After quickly typing a few lines, I marked my spot, and saved my work.
"The name's Mark Marrucini."
I continued sitting in my rolling office chair, and simply wheeled over to the paystubs. "Excuse me, can you say that again?" I coyly looked up to see—the grinner, Big Beard and Tall Man.
I could've hid under the desk! Who knows what my problem was, but nerves overtook me. "Can you," my voice came out a million times higher than it should have, "spell that?" My eyes glanced at the speaker, the grinner, who did look quite Italian now that I came to think of it.
"M-A-R-R-U-C-I-N-I. It's pronounced kind of like linguini," Mark Marrucini said, and his words made me smile.
I eventually found Mark's check and his co-worker's checks too. I didn't really look at any of them directly—for God knows why.
Usually employees would leave after getting their checks, but these guys didn't—and although I'd been jumping at a chance to talk with Mark, I was mortified.
"So, you're not like the regular security guards," Tall Man said.
"'Cause I look so tough?"
The trio scoffed. "No. They're just usually men, really hairy...men."
I nearly coughed up a lung, so taken off-guard. Yep, it was time to change the subject. "Someone told me you're a singer?" I said to Tall Man, even though no one had told me—I'd just heard him singing in the hall once.
"Yeah! I sing in a band. We're kind of like INSANE CLOWN POSSE."
"Right on." I had no idea what that was, but it sounded interesting. "I'm a violinist. If you ever need a fiddle in your music...let me know."
I swear he suppressed a smile. "Ya know, you're all right. I'll come talk to you later about music and stuff," he said.
"Sounds good."
He and Big Beard walked toward the door, obviously expecting Mark Marrucini to follow, but he didn't. "I'll meet ya in there, guys," Mark said.
I gulped. So this was it. I finally really looked at him in person. He had these big blue eyes that practically forced butterflies into my stomach. His dark hair and features made him look just as Italian as his name sounded. And his deep voice made it easy to imagine him talking on the radio—"This is G Q 105.9, giving you your daily wakeup call"—who wouldn't want to wake up to that! Awe....
But then he was actually talking and I realized I'd been ogling him like a school girl!
"What did you just say?" I idiotically twirled some of my hair with my fingers. "I was just thinking about safety paperwork. I'm trying my hardest to do a good job here. And I lose my train of thought so easily with all the new things I'm learning."
He smiled. "Sure you weren't listening. You just want to hear it again!"
"I swear, I missed it." Boy, had I.
He grinned and leaned against the counter, like it was his damn job. I bet he'd leaned against a million counters, just to perfect that look. "I was just saying, the whole plant has been talking about the cute new security guard."
"Oh, I'm sure!" I blushed.
"So..am I. Have to admit, I was curious."
THIS coming from a man who'd I'd overheard talking about how he didn't need a woman. What a player!
He started walking from the room and I couldn't help saying, "Don't be a stranger! You gotta come visit sometime."
"Okay," he nodded, and left the room.
I watched him on the camera, strut down the long hallway, 'til he was off the screen.
There were mounds of paperwork to do, but on the off-chance that Mark would come by again, I did my work in record time. He didn't come for the next several nights. And my manager was so impressed with my efficiency and speed, he started leaving more work for me, demanding it all be done by the morning.
One night, I sat feeling like the heroine in Rumpelstiltskin. So much paperwork covered the desk, I thought I'd never get it done. And to top that off—I'd been doing such a good job—a different night manager had left me two garbage bags filled with various kinds of gloves that needed to be paired together. "You're the only guard who can get this done quickly. We're so proud to have you here."
"Gee, thanks." Gloves...what a promotion.
I worked even harder, just hoping Mark would come talk to me. The maintenance guys sure kept coming up enough, haunting the front desk. I loved those guys, though. They always talked about the same things, mainly the end of the world and hunting. I wasn't always involved in the conversations and they'd still come to my desk.
At one point, several people stood around. "Ya know what you need," the maintenance man, Rob, asked as I continued pairing gloves that night. "You need one weekend where you just meet up with someone you hardly know, go live. Don't even think about it. Do things you'd never do. Make love under the stars. Go gambling! Just live. You're young. And now you're wasting your life away, bored—obviously—and this place has you doing their laundry? You're a guard, not a maid!"
"Hey, if they need extra help and I'm done with paperwork, just sitting here watching cameras…I might as well." I put some gloves in the 'paired' bag. "Rob, did you ever have a weekend like that?"
"Don't be asking him that crap!" Jay, one of the other maintenance guys, said. "None of us need to hear it."
"No, not a weekend," Rob whispered. "But I did have a day a long time ago. Oh, she was somethin'," his voice suddenly blared so loud, "the rack on that girl. And, hell, she could dance! I'll never forget that girl. Ever."
I smiled, 'cause Rob really is one of a kind. A lot of the other employees don't like him, but I think he's a hoot.
After they left, I wondered about what he'd said. Good ol' Rob, who was at least fifty, looked weathered, and wouldn't stop talking hunting; he was a romantic. And maybe he was right about me. Was I just a bored, unexciting girl? It felt like all I ever did was take care of my kids, go hiking, or stay home and get stood up.
My mom had always told me everyone's allowed one fling per lifetime. I hadn't used mine up yet.
I was about half-way through the gloves when Tall Man came to visit with me about music. He had a couple CDs for me and I was excited to "give them a listen" as he said.
We talked about a lot of things. I found out he has a beautiful wife and kids. He seemed like he was working to better himself and his family. And the description of his music made it sound very promising. I liked the guy—and I also liked his choice of friends.
"So, this Mark Marrucini person, what's his story?" I was thinking about Rob's advice. Maybe I could ask Mark out for my once-in-a-lifetime spontaneous weekend. "Does he have a girlfriend?"
"Sure does. She's in a different state though."
Nine thousand pounds of pressure fell on my chest. Really? The grinner...Mark...had a girlfriend? "Oh, that's nice," I said, trying not to sound disappointed. What was it to me anyway? I didn't even know the guy and now I was upset? That's when I resolved, if Mark ever came up to talk with me again, we could be friends. Even if things didn't work out with his girlfriend, and—by some chance—he ended up liking me, he was in the friend zone, permanently. And to think, we weren't even friends yet.
Of course all of this was ridiculous, I told myself. He'd probably never come talk to me anyway.
"What about you?" Tall Man asked.
I bit my lip. I'd told The Schmuck that I couldn't stomach being stood up anymore, that I wanted to date other people, but now I just felt like my life was wasting away while everyone else was married or in serious relationships. The Schmuck had been amazing when we first started dating, why had things turned so sour, and maybe they could go back to the way they used to be in the beginning? "Yeah, there's this guy I've been seeing," I told Tall Man. "We aren't serious, but who knows what the future will hold, right? Time doesn't wait for anyone."
"It's true," Tall Man said. And after he left, I put my face in my hands.
I'd been stupid to put so much hope in a random guy I didn't even know! I should have been putting that faith in myself. No one was going to raise my kids except me. No one would take care of me like I could. And how could I keep hoping "love" would save me? I needed to be like a sole bonsai tree, sure and strong. I needed to stop worrying about men.
A Name Worth Remembering
To read this from the beginning, please go HERE .
"I'm here for my paystub, please," a low voice.
I'd been so busy filling out safety reports, I didn't even notice anyone walk down the hallway, or come into the front room.
I nodded. "Just one second." After quickly typing a few lines, I marked my spot, and saved my work.
"The name's Mark Marrucini."
I continued sitting in my rolling office chair, and simply wheeled over to the paystubs. "Excuse me, can you say that again?" I coyly looked up to see—the grinner, Big Beard and Tall Man.
I could've hid under the desk! Who knows what my problem was, but nerves overtook me. "Can you," my voice came out a million times higher than it should have, "spell that?" My eyes glanced at the speaker, the grinner, who did look quite Italian now that I came to think of it.
"M-A-R-R-U-C-I-N-I. It's pronounced kind of like linguini," Mark Marrucini said, and his words made me smile.
I eventually found Mark's check and his co-worker's checks too. I didn't really look at any of them directly—for God knows why.
Usually employees would leave after getting their checks, but these guys didn't—and although I'd been jumping at a chance to talk with Mark, I was mortified.
"So, you're not like the regular security guards," Tall Man said.
"'Cause I look so tough?"
The trio scoffed. "No. They're just usually men, really hairy...men."
I nearly coughed up a lung, so taken off-guard. Yep, it was time to change the subject. "Someone told me you're a singer?" I said to Tall Man, even though no one had told me—I'd just heard him singing in the hall once.
"Yeah! I sing in a band. We're kind of like INSANE CLOWN POSSE."
"Right on." I had no idea what that was, but it sounded interesting. "I'm a violinist. If you ever need a fiddle in your music...let me know."
I swear he suppressed a smile. "Ya know, you're all right. I'll come talk to you later about music and stuff," he said.
"Sounds good."
He and Big Beard walked toward the door, obviously expecting Mark Marrucini to follow, but he didn't. "I'll meet ya in there, guys," Mark said.
I gulped. So this was it. I finally really looked at him in person. He had these big blue eyes that practically forced butterflies into my stomach. His dark hair and features made him look just as Italian as his name sounded. And his deep voice made it easy to imagine him talking on the radio—"This is G Q 105.9, giving you your daily wakeup call"—who wouldn't want to wake up to that! Awe....
But then he was actually talking and I realized I'd been ogling him like a school girl!
"What did you just say?" I idiotically twirled some of my hair with my fingers. "I was just thinking about safety paperwork. I'm trying my hardest to do a good job here. And I lose my train of thought so easily with all the new things I'm learning."
He smiled. "Sure you weren't listening. You just want to hear it again!"
"I swear, I missed it." Boy, had I.
He grinned and leaned against the counter, like it was his damn job. I bet he'd leaned against a million counters, just to perfect that look. "I was just saying, the whole plant has been talking about the cute new security guard."
"Oh, I'm sure!" I blushed.
"So..am I. Have to admit, I was curious."
THIS coming from a man who'd I'd overheard talking about how he didn't need a woman. What a player!
He started walking from the room and I couldn't help saying, "Don't be a stranger! You gotta come visit sometime."
"Okay," he nodded, and left the room.
I watched him on the camera, strut down the long hallway, 'til he was off the screen.
There were mounds of paperwork to do, but on the off-chance that Mark would come by again, I did my work in record time. He didn't come for the next several nights. And my manager was so impressed with my efficiency and speed, he started leaving more work for me, demanding it all be done by the morning.
One night, I sat feeling like the heroine in Rumpelstiltskin. So much paperwork covered the desk, I thought I'd never get it done. And to top that off—I'd been doing such a good job—a different night manager had left me two garbage bags filled with various kinds of gloves that needed to be paired together. "You're the only guard who can get this done quickly. We're so proud to have you here."
"Gee, thanks." Gloves...what a promotion.
I worked even harder, just hoping Mark would come talk to me. The maintenance guys sure kept coming up enough, haunting the front desk. I loved those guys, though. They always talked about the same things, mainly the end of the world and hunting. I wasn't always involved in the conversations and they'd still come to my desk.
At one point, several people stood around. "Ya know what you need," the maintenance man, Rob, asked as I continued pairing gloves that night. "You need one weekend where you just meet up with someone you hardly know, go live. Don't even think about it. Do things you'd never do. Make love under the stars. Go gambling! Just live. You're young. And now you're wasting your life away, bored—obviously—and this place has you doing their laundry? You're a guard, not a maid!"
"Hey, if they need extra help and I'm done with paperwork, just sitting here watching cameras…I might as well." I put some gloves in the 'paired' bag. "Rob, did you ever have a weekend like that?"
"Don't be asking him that crap!" Jay, one of the other maintenance guys, said. "None of us need to hear it."
"No, not a weekend," Rob whispered. "But I did have a day a long time ago. Oh, she was somethin'," his voice suddenly blared so loud, "the rack on that girl. And, hell, she could dance! I'll never forget that girl. Ever."
I smiled, 'cause Rob really is one of a kind. A lot of the other employees don't like him, but I think he's a hoot.
After they left, I wondered about what he'd said. Good ol' Rob, who was at least fifty, looked weathered, and wouldn't stop talking hunting; he was a romantic. And maybe he was right about me. Was I just a bored, unexciting girl? It felt like all I ever did was take care of my kids, go hiking, or stay home and get stood up.
My mom had always told me everyone's allowed one fling per lifetime. I hadn't used mine up yet.
I was about half-way through the gloves when Tall Man came to visit with me about music. He had a couple CDs for me and I was excited to "give them a listen" as he said.
We talked about a lot of things. I found out he has a beautiful wife and kids. He seemed like he was working to better himself and his family. And the description of his music made it sound very promising. I liked the guy—and I also liked his choice of friends.
"So, this Mark Marrucini person, what's his story?" I was thinking about Rob's advice. Maybe I could ask Mark out for my once-in-a-lifetime spontaneous weekend. "Does he have a girlfriend?"
"Sure does. She's in a different state though."
Nine thousand pounds of pressure fell on my chest. Really? The grinner...Mark...had a girlfriend? "Oh, that's nice," I said, trying not to sound disappointed. What was it to me anyway? I didn't even know the guy and now I was upset? That's when I resolved, if Mark ever came up to talk with me again, we could be friends. Even if things didn't work out with his girlfriend, and—by some chance—he ended up liking me, he was in the friend zone, permanently. And to think, we weren't even friends yet.
Of course all of this was ridiculous, I told myself. He'd probably never come talk to me anyway.
"What about you?" Tall Man asked.
I bit my lip. I'd told The Schmuck that I couldn't stomach being stood up anymore, that I wanted to date other people, but now I just felt like my life was wasting away while everyone else was married or in serious relationships. The Schmuck had been amazing when we first started dating, why had things turned so sour, and maybe they could go back to the way they used to be in the beginning? "Yeah, there's this guy I've been seeing," I told Tall Man. "We aren't serious, but who knows what the future will hold, right? Time doesn't wait for anyone."
"It's true," Tall Man said. And after he left, I put my face in my hands.
I'd been stupid to put so much hope in a random guy I didn't even know! I should have been putting that faith in myself. No one was going to raise my kids except me. No one would take care of me like I could. And how could I keep hoping "love" would save me? I needed to be like a sole bonsai tree, sure and strong. I needed to stop worrying about men.
December 12, 2014
Is having an education more important than experience?
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The young woman sitting across from me at the Italian restaurant flaunted her knowledge.... And while all of her regurgitated ideas were quite thought-provoking, I found myself studying her instead of what she said.
She's younger than I am—in her early twenties—and yet she exuded so much arrogance. Just because I don't have my Bachelor's Degree, she kept throwing it in my face. "Elisa, I know you don't have the same education that I do, but I hope you're following everything that I'm saying. Tell me to slow down when you need me to. Feel free to ask questions when you think it's appropriate."
And at one point, I wanted to slam my coffee on the table between us and shout, "You have no idea what I know, or what I've been through." But I remained outwardly calm for a time, listening to the barrage of information I assumed this woman had likely never applied in real life.
"You should study transhumanism!" she squealed. "Oh, but of course, you haven't taken the background classes on humanism itself—so you can't correctly judge such an ideology." She tapped her painted nails on her coffee cup, then looked away as if grieving the fact that I wasn't smart enough to talk with.
"What a pity that you haven't had more of an education," she suddenly went on. "You're older than me and yet you have so much to learn about the value we each put on life, about humanity as a whole…. You have yet to understand the driving forces behind our political system, what truly makes us equal, whether destiny, fate, or even predestination, really exist!"
Coffee nearly spewed from my mouth, being so taken aback by her words. "Oh, and YOU know all of these things?" I asked.
"I've graduated with honors."
"I appreciate that we've become friends…" I paused. "But I don't appreciate some of the recent comments you've made about my intellect…" She appeared shocked. "Let me explain something to you—just because you have an education, that does not make you better than someone else."
"But if they have less of an education than I do, that means I've learned more than they have. And…knowledge IS power."
"School is wonderful, but without truly applying what you've learned—" I began saying before she interrupted me.
"I'm applying it right now," she said.
"Fine, you're all about the human condition. What's the meaning of life?"
"Sharing knowledge with others," she said rather quickly.
"How about learning from others?" I asked.
"Those who are educated."
I couldn't help but laugh. "Listen, neither one of us are very old, but I've been through a hell of a lot—and I've learned every step of the way. And for you to sit here and act like you're God's gift—it's really getting to me."
"But, Elisa—" Her lips turned downward sadly. "I'm trying to help you."
"I have a long way to go—but I think I've done a pretty great job learning without your help!"
She scoffed—visibly upset that I'd quit being perpetually sweet. That's when I couldn't hold my thoughts in any longer.
"I learned more from a homeless man on the streets of Hawaii, than I've ever learned from any university professor. Do you know what it's like to be homeless? To sit on a corner wondering when you'll get your next meal? To cry, thinking you can't possibly survive, but you don't want to make a collect call to your parents and admit to them that you were wrong; you don't want to crawl back to everyone where you grew up, hoping they'll forgive you—even though you're unmarried AND pregnant…. So you sit on the streets, and some damn stranger comes up and tells you about life, about how you can find kindness in the strangest places. How we all have stories—we'll all suffer pain and loss, but what makes life worth it—what gives it meaning—is when people are kind and that kindness strikes the core of us! That elderly, homeless man—albeit dirty and haggard—showed me the type of selfless kindness I'll never forget."
She stared gape-jawed, and I continued on.
"Have you ever lost a child? Held them in your arms and watched them take their last breath because even though you wanted them to live more than anything, you knew they were in pain—and the best choice you could make was the exact opposite of what you wanted more than anything? I wanted my kid to live—but the selfless choice—the humane choice was to let him die. No book could give me that experience. No philosophy course could make me completely 'feel' that concept. I innately knew what was the right choice! Most people don't know what they'd do in that situation, but I do!"
She shook her head, obviously stunned by my past.
"Have you ever loved someone so much, you thought that love would last to the end of time? You thought the two of you could take on the world and nothing could throw you. Had five kids—FIVE—only to learn that love wasn't what you'd hoped? People are flawed, they're utterly human—and utterly finite. And maybe the only person you should have trusted was God because what you learned was that you couldn't even trust yourself.
"Did you learn any of that from your books, your political classes, your humanity and philosophy teachers? Did that education also give you the experiences that taught you what REAL life is like? I may not have the education that you have, but I've lived and know a heck of a lot more than you'd like to give me credit for."
I stood up in that gorgeous restaurant, slapped some cash on the table and began to walk out. The bell on the front door rang as I grabbed the brass handle.
"Elisa!" she called out from the table. "Wait, Elisa. Please don't go!"
Seriously? Hadn't I just completely lost my temper? Why did she still want to talk with me? I fisted my hands and slowly pivoted on the balls of my feet. "What?"
Tears trailed down the base and blush on her cheeks. "Can you come back?"
I walked back, then simply stood by the table, wondering what she would possibly say.
"Elisa, I owe you an apology." And that young woman proceeded to tell me how she acts like everything's fine, when it's not. Kids used to call her stupid because her mother died when she was in grade school and she started struggling to focus in classes after that. "Everyone thought I was so dumb," she sobbed. "I've fought with everything in me to do well in school—to learn. To be worth something."
I sat down, and after a moment, we both had tears in our eyes.
The conversation that unfolded after that was life-changing. I learned, once again, that you can never guess what someone else has been through. I judged her quite harshly, assuming she'd never had any trials, yet she'd lost her mother—a loss I can't even comprehend. And she'd worked so hard to learn for reasons I never would have guessed, wearing her education as a badge of honor to make her feel significant.
"I owe you an apology, too. I'm sorry for judging you. You're amazing," I said at the end of the conversation. "Education, experiences…all of that aside. The choices you've made—and who you've become. Heck, even the way you handled this situation today, asking me to come back to the table… You know, you're all right."
We both smiled through tears, and I thought once again, the meaning of life for me really is to learn from others, and to try a little harder to be kind--even when it isn't the easy choice.
Photo Credit
The young woman sitting across from me at the Italian restaurant flaunted her knowledge.... And while all of her regurgitated ideas were quite thought-provoking, I found myself studying her instead of what she said.
She's younger than I am—in her early twenties—and yet she exuded so much arrogance. Just because I don't have my Bachelor's Degree, she kept throwing it in my face. "Elisa, I know you don't have the same education that I do, but I hope you're following everything that I'm saying. Tell me to slow down when you need me to. Feel free to ask questions when you think it's appropriate."
And at one point, I wanted to slam my coffee on the table between us and shout, "You have no idea what I know, or what I've been through." But I remained outwardly calm for a time, listening to the barrage of information I assumed this woman had likely never applied in real life.
"You should study transhumanism!" she squealed. "Oh, but of course, you haven't taken the background classes on humanism itself—so you can't correctly judge such an ideology." She tapped her painted nails on her coffee cup, then looked away as if grieving the fact that I wasn't smart enough to talk with.
"What a pity that you haven't had more of an education," she suddenly went on. "You're older than me and yet you have so much to learn about the value we each put on life, about humanity as a whole…. You have yet to understand the driving forces behind our political system, what truly makes us equal, whether destiny, fate, or even predestination, really exist!"
Coffee nearly spewed from my mouth, being so taken aback by her words. "Oh, and YOU know all of these things?" I asked.
"I've graduated with honors."
"I appreciate that we've become friends…" I paused. "But I don't appreciate some of the recent comments you've made about my intellect…" She appeared shocked. "Let me explain something to you—just because you have an education, that does not make you better than someone else."
"But if they have less of an education than I do, that means I've learned more than they have. And…knowledge IS power."
"School is wonderful, but without truly applying what you've learned—" I began saying before she interrupted me.
"I'm applying it right now," she said.
"Fine, you're all about the human condition. What's the meaning of life?"
"Sharing knowledge with others," she said rather quickly.
"How about learning from others?" I asked.
"Those who are educated."
I couldn't help but laugh. "Listen, neither one of us are very old, but I've been through a hell of a lot—and I've learned every step of the way. And for you to sit here and act like you're God's gift—it's really getting to me."
"But, Elisa—" Her lips turned downward sadly. "I'm trying to help you."
"I have a long way to go—but I think I've done a pretty great job learning without your help!"
She scoffed—visibly upset that I'd quit being perpetually sweet. That's when I couldn't hold my thoughts in any longer.
"I learned more from a homeless man on the streets of Hawaii, than I've ever learned from any university professor. Do you know what it's like to be homeless? To sit on a corner wondering when you'll get your next meal? To cry, thinking you can't possibly survive, but you don't want to make a collect call to your parents and admit to them that you were wrong; you don't want to crawl back to everyone where you grew up, hoping they'll forgive you—even though you're unmarried AND pregnant…. So you sit on the streets, and some damn stranger comes up and tells you about life, about how you can find kindness in the strangest places. How we all have stories—we'll all suffer pain and loss, but what makes life worth it—what gives it meaning—is when people are kind and that kindness strikes the core of us! That elderly, homeless man—albeit dirty and haggard—showed me the type of selfless kindness I'll never forget."
She stared gape-jawed, and I continued on.
"Have you ever lost a child? Held them in your arms and watched them take their last breath because even though you wanted them to live more than anything, you knew they were in pain—and the best choice you could make was the exact opposite of what you wanted more than anything? I wanted my kid to live—but the selfless choice—the humane choice was to let him die. No book could give me that experience. No philosophy course could make me completely 'feel' that concept. I innately knew what was the right choice! Most people don't know what they'd do in that situation, but I do!"
She shook her head, obviously stunned by my past.
"Have you ever loved someone so much, you thought that love would last to the end of time? You thought the two of you could take on the world and nothing could throw you. Had five kids—FIVE—only to learn that love wasn't what you'd hoped? People are flawed, they're utterly human—and utterly finite. And maybe the only person you should have trusted was God because what you learned was that you couldn't even trust yourself.
"Did you learn any of that from your books, your political classes, your humanity and philosophy teachers? Did that education also give you the experiences that taught you what REAL life is like? I may not have the education that you have, but I've lived and know a heck of a lot more than you'd like to give me credit for."
I stood up in that gorgeous restaurant, slapped some cash on the table and began to walk out. The bell on the front door rang as I grabbed the brass handle.
"Elisa!" she called out from the table. "Wait, Elisa. Please don't go!"
Seriously? Hadn't I just completely lost my temper? Why did she still want to talk with me? I fisted my hands and slowly pivoted on the balls of my feet. "What?"
Tears trailed down the base and blush on her cheeks. "Can you come back?"
I walked back, then simply stood by the table, wondering what she would possibly say.
"Elisa, I owe you an apology." And that young woman proceeded to tell me how she acts like everything's fine, when it's not. Kids used to call her stupid because her mother died when she was in grade school and she started struggling to focus in classes after that. "Everyone thought I was so dumb," she sobbed. "I've fought with everything in me to do well in school—to learn. To be worth something."
I sat down, and after a moment, we both had tears in our eyes.
The conversation that unfolded after that was life-changing. I learned, once again, that you can never guess what someone else has been through. I judged her quite harshly, assuming she'd never had any trials, yet she'd lost her mother—a loss I can't even comprehend. And she'd worked so hard to learn for reasons I never would have guessed, wearing her education as a badge of honor to make her feel significant.
"I owe you an apology, too. I'm sorry for judging you. You're amazing," I said at the end of the conversation. "Education, experiences…all of that aside. The choices you've made—and who you've become. Heck, even the way you handled this situation today, asking me to come back to the table… You know, you're all right."
We both smiled through tears, and I thought once again, the meaning of life for me really is to learn from others, and to try a little harder to be kind--even when it isn't the easy choice.
Photo CreditDecember 10, 2014
Happy Birthday to my...TEENAGER
This girl makes life so wonderful!I can hardly believe she turned 13 today.#LoveHer#SheIsFun#WhatAdoll
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November 28, 2014
THREADED DREAMS has been published! Celebrate with 5 FREE eBooks for 4 more days!
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"Threaded Dreams"has been released today! *squeal*
Dreams can be strange, wavering between what our conscious and subconscious thoughts are. Follow one woman's journey to self-discovery as she shares her own life-changing dreams.
LINK to Paperback on Amazon.
To celebrate, I've decided to give away some FREE eBooks.
These will be FREE until 12/1/14.
Amazon.com Widgets
The Sword of Senack How to Avoid Having Sex The Golden SkyHomeless in Hawaii Bible Girl & the Bad Boy
"Threaded Dreams"has been released today! *squeal*
Dreams can be strange, wavering between what our conscious and subconscious thoughts are. Follow one woman's journey to self-discovery as she shares her own life-changing dreams.
LINK to Paperback on Amazon.
To celebrate, I've decided to give away some FREE eBooks.
These will be FREE until 12/1/14.
Amazon.com Widgets
The Sword of Senack How to Avoid Having Sex The Golden SkyHomeless in Hawaii Bible Girl & the Bad Boy
November 24, 2014
Cover Reveal: THREADED DREAMS by EC Stilson
I've been working on "Threaded Dreams" for over 4 years--it's amazing to see it finally come to completion.
Release Date: 11/28/2014Dreams can be strange, wavering between what our conscious and subconscious thoughts are. Follow one woman's journey to self-discovery as she shares her own life-changing dreams.
Front Cover
Back Cover
LINK to Paperback on Amazon.
Excerpt:A Bonsai Tree
Twelve years ago, an old gardener decided to plant two seedling bonsai trees in the same container. . . .
At once, the two seedlings found one another, wrapping their leaves together, entwining until their very beings grew as one. It was beautiful really, how the two became as a mangrove, even their roots wrapping together in places no one else could see.
The gardener, perceiving their unified strength, gently transplanted them into some fertile soil outside. At first they braved many storms, growing closer all the while. But then as years passed, something changed. It was subtle, maybe even so slow neither bonsai felt it at first . . . still, change they did.
One bonsai grew stronger, slightly overpowering the other. The smaller bonsai tried to be strong, doing everything . . . anything. But slowly, the smaller bonsai began losing strength. And the bigger bonsai, unhappy in its own way, lost strength as well.
The leaves browned. Their bark no longer had a healthy feel. They were dry . . . dying.
And so, the old gardener, after watching their demise, decided to pull the two trees apart. But he had to cut so much that by the time he'd untangled roots and branches, there was hardly anything left of either tree.
He set them in separate containers, on opposite windowsills in his quaint little house. As the months passed, both trees grew. The smaller bonsai, stretched and strained. The larger bonsai, leaned toward the sun, reveling in the solitude. And as summer came, both trees began to blossom. And for the first time, both trees saw each other for what they were: The smaller bonsai had orange blossoms. The larger bonsai had a thick trunk and reddish leaves. As the two bonsais felt each other across the room, they were no longer saddened, angry, or fearful, instead they saw the facts for what they were: they'd been two different breeds, and if you know anything about bonsais, it's that the only kinds that should be in the same container are those of the same breed.
Also, look for FREE eBooks downloadable from my blog and Facebook
on 11/27-12/1!
Release Date: 11/28/2014Dreams can be strange, wavering between what our conscious and subconscious thoughts are. Follow one woman's journey to self-discovery as she shares her own life-changing dreams.
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Excerpt:A Bonsai Tree
Twelve years ago, an old gardener decided to plant two seedling bonsai trees in the same container. . . .
At once, the two seedlings found one another, wrapping their leaves together, entwining until their very beings grew as one. It was beautiful really, how the two became as a mangrove, even their roots wrapping together in places no one else could see.
The gardener, perceiving their unified strength, gently transplanted them into some fertile soil outside. At first they braved many storms, growing closer all the while. But then as years passed, something changed. It was subtle, maybe even so slow neither bonsai felt it at first . . . still, change they did.
One bonsai grew stronger, slightly overpowering the other. The smaller bonsai tried to be strong, doing everything . . . anything. But slowly, the smaller bonsai began losing strength. And the bigger bonsai, unhappy in its own way, lost strength as well.
The leaves browned. Their bark no longer had a healthy feel. They were dry . . . dying.
And so, the old gardener, after watching their demise, decided to pull the two trees apart. But he had to cut so much that by the time he'd untangled roots and branches, there was hardly anything left of either tree.
He set them in separate containers, on opposite windowsills in his quaint little house. As the months passed, both trees grew. The smaller bonsai, stretched and strained. The larger bonsai, leaned toward the sun, reveling in the solitude. And as summer came, both trees began to blossom. And for the first time, both trees saw each other for what they were: The smaller bonsai had orange blossoms. The larger bonsai had a thick trunk and reddish leaves. As the two bonsais felt each other across the room, they were no longer saddened, angry, or fearful, instead they saw the facts for what they were: they'd been two different breeds, and if you know anything about bonsais, it's that the only kinds that should be in the same container are those of the same breed.
Also, look for FREE eBooks downloadable from my blog and Facebook
on 11/27-12/1!
