More Than Friends

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When I saw you today, I had to let you know how much your friendship has meant to me, especially these last couple of months.  Losing both of my parents within months of each other has been hell for me.  I couldn’t have made it through this nightmare if it hadn’t been for you.  You’re presence has been like a balm to me, comforting and strengthening me.  It will take a while for me to process losing two incredible people but knowing that you’re just a phone call away helps.

When I saw you today, I wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked and how seeing you brightened my day.  Your lovely smile makes my heart beat faster and whenever we hug, I don’t want to let go.  We have been friends since we were in high-school but I have secretly been in love with you and wish that one day I would have to courage to tell you.  I don’t date anymore because I always that the woman was you.  Whenever you talk about a guy you’re dating, I smile and listen but it hurts inside because I wish I were him.

I’m sitting here in the park, watching the ducks in the pond, wishing that you were here with me.  I take out my cell and look at the display.  I want to call you—just to talk but you’re probably busy.  Sighing, I’m about to slip it back into the breast pocket of my jacket when it rings.  My heart skips a beat when I see the number.

“Hello, Brittany.”

“Hello, Chase.  What are you doing?”

“I’m sitting on a bench in Central Park watching the ducks.”

You laughed.  “You and I used to do that a lot.”

“Yes.  We used to like hanging out here after school.”

“And you used to walk me home.”

“Yes.  I wanted to make sure that you were safe.”

“You were always looking out for me.”

“Yes.”  I wanted to say, that’s because you meant the world to me.  You still do. 

“Chase, this afternoon when I ran into you, I wanted to tell you something but didn’t have to guts to do it.”

My heart was racing now.  “Is that why you’re calling now?”

“Yes.  It’s easier for me to do it over the phone than in person.”

Dread filled me.  “Tell me what it is.”

“Chase, I don’t want us to be friends anymore.”

My heart sank.  “I was afraid that you were going to say that.”

“No,” you replied, “you don’t understand.  I’m handling this all wrong.  What I meant to say is that I don’t want us to be just friends any more.  I want us to be more.”

My grip on my cell tightened.  “You do?”

“Yes.  Today when I saw you I wanted to tell you how I feel but I got cold feet.”

“How do you feel, Brittany?”

“I’m in love with you, Chase.  I have been since my first year at high-school.”

I swallowed hard.  “You have no idea how happy I am to hear this.  Brittany, I’ve wanted to tell you that I love you for such a long time but I was afraid to because I didn’t know how you felt and the last thing I wanted to do was ruin our friendship.”

“Oh, Chase, all these years we’ve wasted not telling each other how we really feel.”

I got up from the bench.  “Let’s not think about the years we’ve wasted,” I said.  “We have the present and the future.”

“Do you have any plans for this evening?”

“No.  And even if I did I would cancel them.”

“Come over to my place at seven for dinner and…”

It was the “and” which made me blush.  “I’ll be there for seven,” I told you.

“Good.  I’ll see you then.”

“I’ll bring the wine.”

“Bring your appetite too.  I hope you have a big one.”

I could feel my face grow red.  “I do,” I assured you.

You laughed and ended the call.

I glanced at my watch.  It was a quarter to six.  I left the park and hurried to my flat which was a ten minute walk from there.  I could hear the birds chirping.  Did they sense how ecstatic I was?  Perhaps they did.

 

This was written for the Ragtag Daily Prompt for today’s prompt, Balm.  If you’re interested in participating, click HERE for more information.

 

No Sale

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PHOTO PROMPT © Ceayr

 

“Mother, you can’t be serious,” Matt exclaimed.

“I’m dead serious, Matt.  I’m going to sell the house.  It’s too big for me.  All of you kids have moved out and have your own families.  I’m going into a retirement home so it doesn’t make any sense for me to keep the house.  I’ve gotten some very good offers for it.”

“Mother, you can’t sell our home.”

“Matt, I’ve made up my mind.  Now, I’m going for a walk.”

After she was gone, he paced the room.  He had to stop her from selling the house. His life depended on it.

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.

More Space?

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Here I am on a beautiful tropical island and instead of relaxing in the shade with a good book, going for a walk or a swim, I’m texting him.  What’s the matter with me?  I told him that things were moving too quickly and that I needed some space.  He wasn’t happy about that but he respected my wishes.  I promised him that when I got back from my vacation, I would call him.

So, why am I texting him now?  I guess absence makes the heart grow fonder.  I miss him and wish that he were here.  I keep my message simple.  Am having a great time.  The weather here is lovely.  Hope you’re doing okay.  After I send it, I walk to the water’s edge and wait for his reply.  The water looks really tempting.  Maybe I will go for a swim after I hear from him.

Twenty minutes later, he replies.  While you’re there having a great time, I’m missing you like crazy.  So, I’m not doing okay. 

I immediately texted back, I lied.  I’m miserable here without you.  I don’t need any more space.  I’m going to cut my holiday short and fly home.

No, don’t do that.  I’ll come to you.

When he showed up hours the following day, I was deliriously happy.  We have been inseparable since.

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This was written for the Ragtag Daily Prompt for today’s prompt, Island.  If you’re interested in participating, click HERE for more information.

The Walk Home

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PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays

“It’s nice of you to walk me home,” she said, smiling shyly at him as they cut across the field.

The sun cast a soft glow on her face with its large brown eyes which seemed to dance every time she looked at him, making his heart skip a beat.  She was the prettiest girl he knew.  It was an honor to walk her home.

He smiled.  “It’s the least I could do.  You’ve been helping me with my assignment. “

Her countenance fell.  “Is that the only reason?” she asked.

“No.  May I hold your hand?”

She beamed.  “Sure.”

 

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.

Finding Her Own Way /Decisions #writephoto

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Photo by Sue Vincent

Ma was dead and gone.  There was no reason for Louisa to stay now.  She stooped down and laid the wildflowers she had picked at the foot of the cross which marked Ma’s grave.  Tears ran down her cheeks.  She was going to miss Ma.  After Da died, it was just the two of them, struggling to make ends meet.  Then, Ma got sick and after languishing for a week, she passed away.

Louisa had Ma buried here on the land she loved instead of a graveyard.  Ma wanted to be free, even in death.  Well, now she was.  She was at peace.

Wiping her eyes, Louisa stood.  Her pale blue eyes scanned the endless stretch of green land around her.  Yes, she had made up her mind weeks ago that she was going to leave this place she had called home since the day Da and Ma brought her home from the orphanage.  She was going to miss it.  It was a happy place, filled with love and laughter and the smell of fresh bread and Ma’s delicious Treacle Tarts.

It was hard to leave but she had to.  Beyond the horizon a new destiny awaited her.  She remembered Ma’s words.  “When I pass on, I want you to go and find your own way, Child.  I don’t want you to be stuck here.”

“Well, Ma,” she whispered.  “I’m going to do as you said.  I’m going to find my own way and make you and Da proud,  I promise.”

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

Assimilation

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Photo Credit: Susan Spaulding

Assimilation.  It was something Chaska fought against from the very start.  Much like I tried to fight my attraction and gradual love for him.  We were of different cultures and races.  I always believed that one day after I left college, I would marry a colored man.  Never once did I ever imagine that I would end up falling in love with a Lakota Sioux man.

The moment I saw him, I sensed that I was in grave trouble.  He was bigger than life but at the same time, reserved.  He was strong not just physically but spiritually and mentally.  I was struck by his features—handsome, weather-beaten face, smooth dark skin and long, thick, flowing black hair and his quiet strength.

He and two other Indians enrolled in this historically black college.  It was clear that they felt out of place and resisted wearing the uniforms but I persuaded him to and he them.  He disliked being in a classroom, saying that outdoors would be better– nature would be the classroom.  The desks were set up in the woods behind the college.  Years later, they still sit there, neglected.  As for me, I’ve a happy home elsewhere with Chaska.

 

 

200 Words

This story was inspired by the 1999 movie, Unbowed.  It’s a story about three Lakota Sioux men who enroll in a historically black college, and their reluctance to assimilate causes friction between their black peers. Some come to embrace their similar history, while others remain bitter.  One of them falls in love with a black woman.

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.

Role-Play

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My name is Ezra and I’m an Angolan woman married to Francisco, a Portuguese businessman.  We have been married for ten years.  We have two children, a boy named Bento and a girl named Mafalda.  We live in Luanda.  During the week, I’m at home alone because Rodrigo is at the office and the children are in school.  I’m a housewife and I love it.  I love taking care of my family.

From the time I was seven years old, I knew that I wanted to be a homemaker when I was older.  My mother, God bless her soul, was my inspiration.  I watched her work tirelessly and happily to take care of the home, my father, my siblings and me.  When I was old enough, I helped around the house.  She taught me how to cook and keep a clean house.  She told me that one day I would be a wife and it was best to start learning how to do things as early as possible.  Sadly, she didn’t live to see me get married or hold her grandchildren.  My father and my siblings were at my wedding.  They were happy for me and warmly welcomed Rodrigo into the family.  They weren’t upset that I married a European man instead of an African man.

Rodrigo and I met when I was working as a cook at a restaurant owned by a family friend.  He came in there one day to have lunch with a client.  After having my Fish Calulu, he wanted to meet me to personally compliment me on the dish.  Feeling a little self-conscious after being in the hot kitchen all morning and not having enough time to fix myself up, I went into the dining-room.  He stood up as I approached.  He was tall and very attractive in his expensive looking grey suit.  I was immediately attracted to him.  He smiled and said in Portuguese, “I wanted to personally tell how much I enjoyed the Fish Calulu.  It’s the best I’ve ever had.”

I smiled shyly.  “Thank you.”

His client had left so we were alone.  “My name is Rodrigo,” he said, extending his large hand.  I looked at it before placing my hand in it.  The long fingers closed over mine in a firm handshake.

“I’m Ezra.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ezra.  I wonder if you would like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

I gulped.  He was asking me out on a date.  I could hardly believe it.  It took a moment for me to say, “Yes.”

“Good.  I’ll meet you here at eight.  “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”  I watched him leave and then returned to the kitchen.

The following night we went for dinner at a popular Portuguese restaurant.  Afterwards, we went for a drive.  We saw each other regularly after that and the following year, we got married.  I quit my job at the restaurant after learning that I was pregnant with Bento.

Life with Rodrigo ideal.  Our sex life is amazing  and sometimes, we indulge in role play which add a little spice to the marriage.  Lately, I have been dressing up as a slave girl while he pretends to be my slave master.   But this is happening way too often.  He wants to do it for every lovemaking session.

Last night, he pulled my dress down about my waist and turned me around so that my bare back was to him and had me hug the bedpost.  He got the whip he had bought from one of those sex stores and started to use it on me.  It didn’t hurt but Rodrigo wanted me to pretend that it did.  When he was done, he dragged the dress off and threw me down on the bed.  I lay there while he ravaged me, staring up at the ceiling and wondering if this nightmare would ever end.  What had started out as harmless fun had become something I dreaded and desperately wanted to stop.  I wanted to be his wife and lover again not his slave.

I’m sitting here in the kitchen, staring out at the window.  I have made up my mind to tell Rodrigo that I’m not going to be his slave in the bedroom anymore.  And if he cares about me and our marriage, he will respect my wishes.  Worst case scenario, I will pack up and leave.  And of course, take Bento and Mafalda with me.

Hours later, I’m in the bedroom and Rodrigo walks after taking a long, hot shower.  He’s stark naked and by the looks of him, he’s in the mood.  I’m standing by the bed, wearing one of my nightgowns.  The slave girl garb was tossed in the garbage along with the whip.  I was very determined not to subject myself to that again.  Before he could say anything, I said, “Rodrigo, I’m Ezra, your wife, not your slave girl.  I don’t ever want to play that role again.  I didn’t mind doing it the first few times but you want to do it every time and it’s no longer fun for me.  It has become degrading.  I refuse to do it any more.”

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Rodrigo stared at me.  Silence filled the room and I found myself holding my breath as I waited for him to say something.  He came over to me and putting his hands on my shoulders, he said as his eyes met mine.  “Me desculpe, querida.  I’m sorry.  I should have realized that this particular type of role playing would affect you.  It was very insensitive of me.  Please forgive me.”

Relief washed over me like a tidal wave and I hugged him around the waist and buried my face in his chest.   He will never know how close I came to leaving him if he had not respected my wishes.

Role-play in marriages is healthy and exciting but make sure that both of you are having fun. Never indulge in role-play which will demean or devalue either of you.

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