Heartstrings

“I love the way you play,” he said.

I smiled, flattered.  “Thank you.”

We were standing backstage at Carnegie Hall.  I had invited him to the performance and was thrilled that he actually came.

“The way you played that piece it was as if you were telling a story.  You had me hooked.”

“Joshua Bell, the celebrated violinist once said that when you play a violin piece, you are a storyteller and you’re telling a story.”

“I would like to hear your story.  How about going for a cappuccino with me?”

“Yes,” I said without any hesitation.  I wanted to be with him.  Since we started working at the same company, I have wanted to get to closer to him.  This was my opportunity.  I quickly put my violin away and followed him to the parking lot.  The café where we went was about a twenty minute drive.  It was a nice and cozy place.  I have never been there before.  We managed to get a seat beside the window.

After ordering two Lattes, he asked, “So, how old were you when you first started playing the violin?”

“I was five when I started learning how to play it.  My father loved classical music and he used to play it all of the time.  I would sit and listen it, especially the music featuring the violin.  I told him that I liked the violin and wanted to learn how to play it.  He took me seriously and got a friend to teach me.”

“Five.  Wow. That’s very young.”

I smiled.  “I’ve heard of children starting as young as three.”

“My sister started playing the piano when she was nine.”

“What about you?  Wasn’t there any musical instrument that you wanted to learn how to play?”

“I liked the saxophone but never got around to learning how to play it.”

“Most people like the saxophone because of its cool image.”

“And most women think it’s sexy.”

“That’s true.  When my sister met her husband he was playing the sax at a Jazz club.”

“So, if he hadn’t been playing the sax, she wouldn’t have been interested?”

“Well, it turned out that it was how he looked as he played was what really attracted her to him.”

He laughed, revealing even white teeth.  “Whatever works.”

“Yes.  Twenty years later and they are still happily married.”

“What about you?” he asked.

“I’m single.”

“That’s good to know.”

I was surprised to hear him say that.  Did he want to have a non-professional relationship with me?  Was I reading more into this than there was?  Did he just want to be friends?  All these and other questions swirled around my head.  I didn’t know what to say.  I just smiled.

He continued, leaning over, his hands clasped in front of him, his eyes meeting mine directly.  “I have wanted to ask you out for a long time now but wasn’t sure if you would want to date someone you worked with.”

It’s a good thing I wasn’t drinking my Latte at that moment or I would have choked on it.

“You look surprised,” he commented.

“I am,” I quickly admitted.

“Why?” he asked.

“Well, there are other women at the company, especially in our department whom I thought you would be more interested in.”

“Yes, there are but I’m not interested in any of them,” he reached over then and covered my hand.  The skin tingled and my stomach did a cartwheel.  “I’m interested in you.”

I felt warm all over.  “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll have dinner with me tomorrow night.”

I felt like a giddy schoolgirl.  “Yes.”

He smiled again and I felt my knees go weak.  We ordered sandwiches and sat there for another couple of hours, talking.  The following night he took me to an upscale restaurant in Soho where in the background Jazz music was playing.  I smiled when I heard the saxophone.  We had a very pleasant and enjoyable evening together.  I laughed a lot and felt totally relaxed with him.  After dinner, we went to Club Shelter where we had a blast.  I don’t recall ever having such a great time with anyone, not even my sister who used to be a real party animal.

It was after mid-night when he took me home.  We stood outside of my place, facing each other.  I didn’t want him to leave.  I didn’t want our time together to end.  “Would you like to come in?” I asked.  I waited, hoping that he would say yes.

Instead, he said, “If I do, I might not want to leave.”

Heart pounding wildly against my ribs, I stepped the foyer as I replied, “What if I don’t want you to leave?”

His response was to come in and close the door behind him.   The expression on his face thrilled me and I gasped when he pulled me roughly against him, his eyes smoldering as they met mine.  Then, we were kissing like two crazy people.  We barely made it to my room where we had an explosive session.  Afterwards, we fell asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms.

He left the following morning after a shower and breakfast.  We made plans to see each other that evening.  No one in our department knew about us until the day we announced our engagement.

She tugged at his heartstrings with her violin playing but by the cords of love he was drawn to her.

 

Devastating News

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PHOTO PROMPT © Renee Heath

“I’m devastated to hear about Douglas and you,” Liz said to Ronda as they sat outside of Liz’s home.  Everyone else had gone to the baseball game.

Ronda held back the tears.  “After fifteen years of marriage, we’re getting divorced.  Who would have expected that?”

Liz squeezed her hand.  “I can’t imagine how you must be feeling.”

“Right now I’d like to kill them.”

“Do you know who she is?”

Ronda wanted to scream, it’s your bloody daughter!  She’d seen them going into the tepee one evening.  “No,” she lied.

“Well, whoever she is, I hope she burns in Hell.”

 

100 Words

This was written for the Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields For more details, visit Here.  To read other stories based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.

Emily/Snowfall #writephoto

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Photo by Sue Vincent

It was snowing.  It was the first snowfall on the season.  Emily raised her head and closed her eyes.  The flakes dropped like soft petals on to her face.  She smiled.  It was early in the morning.  In a couple of hours, classes would begin.  This was where she came every morning.  This was where they met.  She glanced at her watch.  He would be there in ten minutes.  Her heart skipped a beat at the thought.

While her family was still sleeping, she had slipped out of her room and come here.  The sneaking around, the clandestine meetings were so exciting.  She wondered what they would say if they only knew that she and Mr. Andrews, the headmaster were romantically involved with each other.  It began shortly after the new school year began.  She had transferred from another school.  Her mother wanted her to attend the same ivy league school she herself had been privileged to attend.

At first Emily was resentful and resistant because she was leaving all of her friends behind in London but when she met Mr. Andrews her outlook immediately changed.  He was a very agreeable, charming and attractive older man.  He looked to be in his late thirties, early forties.  He reminded her of the men she read about in Mills & Boon.  It wasn’t long before she started daydreaming about him.  And then, what a thrill it was to find out that her attraction for him was reciprocated.

She wondered what Mommy dearest would say if she only knew about Mr. Andrews.  A smile tugged at her mouth.  She would probably have one of her fits.  Mommy was such a drama queen, always overreacting to things and blowing things way out of proportion like the time when she found her and Edward in her room.  They hadn’t been up to any mischief.  Edward had kissed and she hadn’t resisted because she was curious to see what it was like to kiss and be kissed.

Of course, no amount of protestations and explanations could appease her enraged mother who threw Edward out of the house and warned him never to set foot there again.  And Emily was grounded for a month.  She was not allowed to go anywhere after school or on the weekends.  It was like being a prisoner on death row.  Her dislike and resentment for her mother increased.  They had never cared for each other.  Emily adored her father who indulged her while her mother favored her brother, William.

Her reverie was interrupted when she spotted Mr. Andrews heading towards her.  Heart racing, she waited anxiously for him to reach her.  When he did, they embraced and then they were kissing passionately.  When he drew back to gaze down into her flushed face, she said, “I’m late.”

He shook his head.  “No, you’re not.  School doesn’t start for another hour or so.  We have more than enough time.”

“No, I meant that my period is late.”

His expression changed at once.  “Do you think–?”

“I don’t know.  It’s possible that I could be or it could be nothing.”

“I hope and pray that you aren’t.”

“Would it be such a terrible thing if I were?”

“It wouldn’t be a good thing at all, Emily.”

“We could get married and–”

He released her then, his face darkening.  “No, we can’t,” he informed her tersely, startling her.

“Why not?” she asked, bewildered.

He shoved his fingers through his hair.  “Emily, I don’t know quite how to say this.  I can’t marry you because I’m engaged.”

The color drained from her face.  “Engaged?” she almost choked on the word.  “You’re engaged?”

“Yes.”

She fumbled for the tree and leaned heavily against it.  Her heart was aching now.  “To whom?”

“Julia Farnsworth.”

“When-when are you getting married?”

“In June.”

“When–when were you going to tell me?”

“I’ve wanted to tell you but couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“So, you were going to continue sleeping with me although you’re engaged to someone else.”

“Emily–” he tried to touch her but she pushed his hands away, the tears almost blinding her.

“I can’t believe that I was such a fool.  I thought you loved me.”

“I care very deeply for you.”

“I hate you!  And I hope that I’m not pregnant with your child.  I want nothing whatsoever to do with you any more.”  She stumbled away from the tree and ran as fast as she could across the snow covered ground.

Weeks later, her period arrived.  She requested to be transferred to another school which her father took care of, in spite of her mother’s vehement objections.  Emily’s father knew the reason behind the transfer.  He wanted to report Mr. Andrews but Emily asked him not to.  She never saw Mr. Andrews again.  She read about his nuptials online.  She didn’t hate him any more.  Besides, she had moved on. She was now dating a very nice boy whom she met at her new school.

This was written for the #writephoto Prompt – Imagination at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.

Caught Red-handed

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Photo Credit: Joy Pixley

Yesterday she saw them, strolling down the Acera Arbolada holding hands. She watched them, kicking herself for believing that he had changed. The last time when she found out that he was seeing another woman on the side, she confronted him.  He begged her to give him a second chance and promised not to cheat again.

Foolishly, she took him back and things were going well until her friend, Melba warned her that he was cheating again. At first, she refused to believe that he’d do that to her again because he’d given her his word. Well, she soon discovered that his word wasn’t worth a darn. Instead of confronting him there and then, she walked away.

And now he was standing here in her doorway acting all innocent.  Well, she didn’t waste any time telling him, “We’re through.”

He looked bewildered.  “But, Baby…”

“Don’t Baby me.  I saw you with another woman walking down the Acera Arbolada.”

“That was my sister.”

“If that’s how you carry on with your sister, then you’re more messed up than I thought.”

“Okay.  She’s my sister’s friend.  I’m sorry…”

“Not as sorry as I am.”

“Baby…”

She slammed the door in his face.

 

200 Words

 

This was written for Sunday Photo Fiction hosted by Susan Spaulding. For more details visit Here.  To read more of the stories based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.

Weekend Writing Prompt #91

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They lay there on the private beach wrapped in each others’ arms, their clothes strewn helter-skelter on the sand.  Sunlight gleamed on their naked bodies.  This wasn’t something she ever imagined herself doing, an introvert and circumspect older woman frolicking with a younger man in the open.  Was it loneliness or the desire to love and be loved which drove her to act so recklessly?  Was it wrong to want some excitement in her life?

What would her family and friends think? Should she care?  Wasn’t she entitled to some happiness too?  So what if she had found it with a man she met on a cruise?  This was her life.

111 Words

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This is for the Weekend Writing Prompt by Sammi Cox. For instructions, click HERE.

Thinking of Her

She ran along the beach, laughing.  When she looked back and me and smiled, my heart stopped.  The sun hit her at just the right angle.  I envied it because it was caressing her face.  The hands holding the camcorder ached to hold her instead.  I forced myself to concentrate on my task.  I wanted to capture every moment.

Surrounded by sand and sea, we were in paradise.   As I watched her dancing, her arms spread out like a bird’s wings clad in that swimsuit that drove me crazy, I thought of what a lucky guy I was.

Yes, I was a lucky guy.  I married the woman of my dreams and we were blissfully happy until that day when fate intruded upon our happiness and snatched her away from me.  I sit here now on the beach, thinking of her and missing her.  It’s a grey and dismal day, reflective of how I am feeling inside.  The sea seems angry.  I close my eyes and think of that day when we were walking along the water’s edge on a beautiful beach, our future ahead of us.  Not once did it ever occur to me that a year later, she would be gone from my life forever.

Yes, fate dealt me a cruel and heavy blow which has knocked me down.  I don’t know if I will ever be able to get up again.  I can’t imagine going on without her.  She was my life, my world and now she’s gone, leaving this emptiness behind.  I don’t know how long I will sit here and listen to the waves or the cries of the seagulls.  Right now, I can’t face going back to an empty apartment.

There is no armour against fate – JAMES SHIRLEY, The Contention of Ajax and Ulysses

 

The Shortcut

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PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

 

She didn’t like walking through the woods but it was a shortcut.  The trees stood tall and eerily silent.  It was creepy here in the daytime.  She hated to imagine what it must be like at night.

As she went, the twigs cracking beneath her feet, she spotted a car on her right.  Its bonnet was open.  She looked around.  There was no sign of its driver.  Perhaps he went for help.  Curious, she went over to inspect it.  She peered through the window.  Behind her a twig snapped.  Before she could turn, a bag was shoved over her head.

 

100 Words

This was written for the Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields For more details, visit Here.  To read other stories based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.