The Stranger

*Note: It’s been awhile since I’ve written short fiction.  I’m a little rusty. Specifically for this piece, I had no idea how to end it, so I ended it in the easiest way possible.  Unfortunately it changes the way I wanted the heroine to deal with her situation.  In the future, I’d like to change the ending.

Also, I couldn’t think of a title, so I chose the word I used so often in the story.  I’m open to suggestions for something better.  

The Stranger

I woke to the smell of burnt coffee.  That is, I assumed it was burnt coffee, I never drank the stuff, and to me, every kind of coffee smelled like crap.  With a shudder, I sprang up, patting my old, worn out comforter in relief.  I was home, and yet the foreign smell of coffee invaded my small apartment.  My muscles tightened as I realized that maybe the “burnt” I had smelled was more intuitive than the “coffee”.  Oh, god.  What did I do last night? I thought, as I jumped from my bed and sprinted down the hall.

As I made it into the kitchen, I was greeted by a naked, muscular back.  The stranger wore a pair of loose fitting basketball shorts that rested lightly on his hips.  I squeaked a little, as a tiny sliver of memory forced its way into my brain.  He turned at the sound.  “Good morning,” he said, without a hint of embarrassment.  “I saw you didn’t have a coffee maker, so I made due with the packet of instant I found on the microwave.”

“Heh,” was my reply.  My brain struggled to form a logical and polite thought.  The strange, and gorgeous, man came over, planting a kiss on my forehead.

“You are just as beautiful in the morning.”

I looked down at my feet, trying to gather my thoughts.  Several long seconds passed without anything forming, so I was finally forced to say it.  “I’m sorry, I don’t really remember last night.”  I looked up to see the shock and hurt cross his face.  “I don’t even remember your name.”

“Well, that’s embarrassing.  I knew you were drunk, but I didn’t think you were that drunk.  I’m so sorry for any discomfort you feel.”  He had a way of speaking that would have been intoxicating, had I not been recovering from last night’s intoxication.  “Let me just find my shirt.  I’ll go.”

He passed me on his way out of the kitchen, throwing “I’m Luke by the way,” over his shoulder.

I cringed.  “Wait, it’s not your fault,” I called after him.  I followed him into the bedroom, watching him pull a tight V-neck over his head. The V in his neckline matched the perfect V that was forming around his abs, and I found myself wanting to see where that V ended.  He sat on my bed.

“I’m sorry, I’m not usually like that.”  He raised an eyebrow at me. “Seriously.  My friends dragged me out last night.   I had a rough week, and they said alcohol would be the solution.”

He laughed. “Well, you handled yourself well for blacking out.”

“Did we…” I trailed off, allowing him to finish the question.

“Sleep together?” he asked.  “Yes, we did.  It was great.”

I groaned.  “Unfortunately, all we did was sleep.  Nothing more,” he continued.

I let out a long sigh.  “You are an amazing kisser though.”  He grinned mischievously.

“I’m glad you’re finding this funny.  I don’t usually do stuff like this, I hope you know that.”

“I know,” he said, “you told me that several times last night.  Then you invited me back to your place, where you promptly fell asleep.  I thought about leaving, but I figured there was no harm in falling asleep beside you.  Plus, it was cute, the way you snuggled up to me the second I climbed into bed.”  I instinctively reached out and punched him lightly on the arm.  “Ow.”

My stomach churned as struggled to remember last night.  I know I made a few calls.  Hopefully I was too inebriated to remember numbers that were no longer programmed into my phone.  I made a mental note to check my call log the second I got Luke out of my apartment.

“So, what happened this week that caused you to be so reckless?”

I paused.  How could I explain it to this complete stranger?

“It’s a long story.”

He grinned.  “I have time.  Stop looking at me like I’m some psycho.  I won’t force you to tell me, but I did wake up to find that you didn’t even remember my name.  You’re indebted to me.”

“It’s not that interesting.  I was dealing with a breakup.”

“A breakup?” He raised an eyebrow.  “How long were you with the guy?”

“Eight months.  It was my longest relationship.”

“That’s your longest relationship?” He asked, laughing.  I shot him a look.  “I’m sorry.  I’m not laughing about your breakup.  That’s not a very long relationship though.”

“Yes, I realize that.”

Heavy silence descended.  Eventually he got up, adjusting the elastic of his shorts, and exposing a little bit more of his toned stomach.  “I can tell that you’re embarrassed and uncomfortable.  I’m gonna go.”

I struggled to find the right words to say to this complete stranger.  “I’m sorry, I don’t know how to handle this type of thing.”

“I don’t know what type of thing this is.  Obviously you are dealing with some heavy things right now, but I would like to see you again.  Luckily, I have your number.  I’ll call you later.”

He leaned forward and lightly brushed a kiss against my lips.  Blood rushed to my head, removing all thoughts.  “OK.  Goodbye.”

I walked him to the door and shut it behind him.  I then raced to my room and sought out my phone.  Scrolling through the lengthy call log from last night, I saw the horribly familiar 10 digit numbers in there over and over.  I counted 12 times.  Sinking to the floor, I clutched the phone to my chest like a life line.  What have I done?

Just then, it rang.

I jumped, seeing the number I had apparently dialed over and over last night.  My fingers pressed the answer button somewhat automatically.

“Hey, Brad.”

His voice sounded over the line. “Maddy? What’s going on? I woke up to 12 missed calls and 3 voicemails from you.”

“I drank too much last night,” I answered plaintively.  “I’m sorry.”

He sighed.  “Maddy, you can’t do this.  We’re done, it’s over.  You have to let it go.”

“That’s why you called?” I asked.  “To remind me that you’ve dumped me?  As if I didn’t know that?”

“Well, judging from the voicemails I got, you aren’t dealing with that fact.”

“I wasn’t thinking!” I exclaimed. How many times had he gotten drunk and had done things that were irrational?  I fumed to myself.

“I think it would be best if you deleted my number.  I’ll contact you eventually, when things have cooled off.”

“Unfortunately, deleting someone’s number from your phone, and deleting it from your memory are too different things.  That’s what last night proved.”

“Just, don’t do this.  OK?  We broke up two days ago.  Give it some time.”  His annoyance was palpable.  How could this person have told me how much he loved me a week ago?

“Fine by me,” I snapped.  Without pausing to say goodbye, I clicked the “end” button on my phone.

I sat there for a minute, fuming.  How dare he? For months, I had dealt with his drunken confessions and his childish antics.  Now, for the first time, I made a fool out of myself, and he chose to hold it over my head.  How fair was that?

I walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower, needing to clear my head.  I quickly undressed and stepped into the hot water, willing it to melt away any and all thoughts of the past two days.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible.  The second the water hit my head, the image of Luke’s incredible body flashed in my mind.  I had to admit that, compared to Brad’s beer gut; Luke was quite the catch physically.  It’s too soon.  It was just a rebound, I reminded myself.  He was a hot rebound, though.

I spent the rest of the shower allowing my mind to wander and to try to recall the more exciting details of last night.  I couldn’t get over the fact that I had drunkenly invited a complete stranger into my home.  I should be grateful to even be alive.  Some friends I had, allowing me to go home with a man they didn’t know.

Still, I wasn’t completely filled with regret.

I stepped out of the shower and into my robe, and saw my phone’s screen light up out of the corner of my eye.  Oh god, who is it now?  I wondered.

“I hope you know that I wouldn’t take back last night if I could.  The timing isn’t the best, but I’m persistent.  When you’re ready, I’d love to take you out.  Unless you’d rather just sleep together again.  ;)

-Luke”

I read the words and couldn’t stop myself from grinning.  Things may be looking up.

 

Update of the past 8 months

I pretty much have abandoned my attempt at a blog.  Now that my life has somewhat slowed down, I think I’ll give it another go.  No promises.

I want to catch up on the last eight months, without bogging my blog down with boring details.  (Ha! Bogging the blog)

So here are the biggies.  Moved back home.  It’s not awful, though any overnight excursions have been eliminated.  That means always being the DD and turning down any and all weekend trips.

On the plus side, I now have the opportunity to take weekend trips since I quit my waitressing job in order to start at a company that required a degree.  I’m moving up in the world.  Slightly.

When people ask me what I do, it gets a little awkward, because I know they don’t really care, and it’s weird to explain.  I do get to proofread, which plays into the whole English major thing; however, I am proofreading benefit coding for a health insurance company.  Not the most riveting of jobs, but it could be worse.  Having weekends and a relatively decent salary (considering) are definitely in the “pro” category.  The cons are that I’ve been training for like 2.5 months, just because they’re extremely unorganized, so the work I do on a daily basis doesn’t count for anything.  Also, I finish my fake work by 11 every day, and have to find ways to occupy myself for the rest of the day.  And from what I understand, it’ll only get worse once I’m done training.

I’ve stopped writing in general, mostly because I’ve been emotionally drained.  I still have dreams, though, so starting today I am gonna try and get back in the saddle.  I actually just wrote a short story, which is why i decided to pick back up on the blogging thing.  I need somewhere to post this stuff.  Even the duds, and trust me, this one is pretty much a dud.

Anyway, that post is to follow this one.  Also, I’ve been apartment hunting, and I will hopefully be out by my birthday, if not long before.  I have an appointment on Saturday to see a studio apartment.  I’m nervous to be living on my own, but excited to have the space.

Alright, enough of my so-called life.  I will be posting the story, once I get it formatted correctly for this blog.

When God closes a door, somewhere, he opens a window.

I quit that old job, now I’m doing ok.

It’s time to get braggy.

This summer has had it’s ups and downs.  Obviously, most of them have been chronicled in this here blog.  When the summer began, I stated to my best friends that it was going to be crazy.  I had been recently dumped, still struggling with a job that I had outgrown, and paying way too much to live in a somewhat shitty apartment.  So when I made that bold statement, I mostly meant that we were going to be wild. It was the best way I knew to combat feeling down about some things that might have depressed me otherwise.  …This blog is making me sound like an alcoholic.

What I suppose I’m trying to say is that when my back’s against the wall and some unideal situations are staring me in the face, I’d rather make a quick getaway and go dance with my friends. 

Unfortunately, I’ve gotten away with this method for a long time.  But this summer, I was finally forced to face all of the things that I didn’t like about my life, and make some changes. 

So, in the past week I have put my resignation in at my current job, have been accepted to grad school, and am in the process of moving back in to my parents’ house, where the bills aren’t quite so daunting.

I feel amazing. 

The song that I have quoted in the title is somewhat of an anthem for me right now.  My favorite line goes, “And this is the part where you find out who you are.”

It’s so true.  When things reach an all time suck, it forces you to be all of the things that you sometimes think you aren’t.  I’m suddenly not so afraid of being rejected by people, because I realize that it’s their opinion, and not fact.  I’m trying not to be afraid to take big risks, because I haven’t been rewarded much by sitting around, doing nothing.

I realize that there’s going to be a point in the near future when my current feelings fade, and I start to feel overwhelmed again.  But what I’ve learned in the past five years is that, when you feel strong, and you feel like you can face any situation, it’s important to submerge yourself in that feeling for as long as possible.  That way, it becomes easier to “fake it til you make it.”

The Maine: Whoever She Is

I thought I had my girl, but she ran away
My car got stolen and I’m gonna be late
For work this week make that the fourth day straight
But I’m fine with it

I thought I had it all but I gave it away
I quit that old job now I’m doing okay.
Those material things they can’t get in my way
‘Cause I’m over it.
But whatever she may be…

She could be money, cars, fear of the dark
Your best friends or just strangers in bars
Whoever she is, whoever she may be,
One thing’s for sure: You don’t have to worry
And this is the part where you find out who you are
And these are your friends, those who’ve been there from the start
So to hell with the bad news, dirt on your new shoes
It rained all of May to the month of June
But whaever she may be…

She could be money, cars, fear of the dark
Your best friends or just strangers in bars 
Whoever she is, whoever she may be,
One thing’s for sure: You don’t have to worry

And every day in every way
Oh she will look the same
And every care you used to have just seems to float away.

To hell with your new shit
And whether or not you think you fit in

She could be money, cars, fear of the dark
Your best friends or the strangers in bars
Whoever she is, whoever she may be,
One thing’s for sure: You don’t have to worry

She could be rainy days, minimum wage,
A book that ends with no last page
Whoever she is, whoever she may be,
One thing’s for sure: You don’t have to worry

The Chase.

Isn’t it supposed to be the men that chase the women?  Everything I’ve heard of and experienced in the past two months has led me to believe that, in this day and age, it’s the other way around.

I get that dating rules change over time.  Women have to learn to adapt their roles in the dating world, especially as they change their roles in the working world, blah blah blah.

But as we gain so much power in all things not related to dating, why do we choose to give up the power in relationships?

I know that I, personally, am turned off by men who are too forward.  If a guy is constantly in contact with me, and sees me for the exceptional person that I am, then I am instantly bored.  I meet these rare gentlemen, and say, “I would eat him alive.” It’s not vanity, it’s fact.  I learned young, and I learned fast that the men who are willing to give me the things I want so easily are the men that cling too hard, and make me feel suffocated.

The men who make me work? Those are the ones who get my attention without deserving it.  It’s not very mature of me, and I swore I would grow out of it after college, but here I am, stuck in a dating rut of waiting for him to contact me, playing games when he finally does, occasionally feeling satisfied by his attention, and then having it disappear the second I feel comfortable.

And it’s not just me.  I have friends that are, in fact, worse than me.  They hang on to the guys that torture them long after I would have given up.  Then, we sit and talk about how obnoxious these guys are, and how we can’t stand their very existence…and they call these relationally challenged men seconds after our conversation is finished! Yet, I have nothing to stand on, since I know that when I’m in their position, I do the same thing to some extent.

I usually like to come to some satisfactory conclusion when I think about anything of importance to me, but I am convinced that, while I am single (and I plan on being single for a little while longer at least), I will be stuck in this situation.  It’s just what I know.

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.

That little gem of a title is courtesy of Jeff from Big Brother.  Love him, regardless of what people say about him.

I’ve been thinking about caricatures.  It happens all the time in some of my favorite sitcoms.  They start off with a character who is believable, but has a number of quirks that makes him/her lovable.  Then, once the producers figure out what characteristics viewers are drawn to, they blow those traits out of proportion.  My favorite example is JD from Scrubs.  He started out a relatively intelligent intern who had a goofy sense of humor.  By season 8, he was a clown.  He rarely had anything legitimate to say, he came off as an idiot, and he became completely unbelievable.

Sometimes I worry about becoming a caricature.  It’s seemed to be happening lately.  I know that I’m a guys girl.  I’m not a tomboy in the slightest, I love clothes, I care a lot about hair and makeup, and gossip is something I love to partake in.

I just kind of think like a guy about some things.  It’s not really my fault, I was just surrounded by more guys that girls growing up.

But last night, I was sitting around a fire with some friends and some strangers, and they were playing a game involving making up blues lyrics.  The one kid took his turn, and made a verse that was based on a story I had told him.  Just hearing him repeat my thoughts in front of other people made me feel like I was hearing about someone else.  I’m surely not that ridiculous.

But I couldn’t deny that the things he had said were pretty much how I described them, verbatim.  I just think that I’ve found that certain characteristics are amusing to others, so I’ve clung to them pretty hard.  But I’m going to stop, because I don’t think I’m being a hundred percent true to myself.

I was told to post something new.  So I am.  Bear with me, I have absolutely nothing planned.

There’s some big changes coming up.  Moving back in with my parents, persuing my master’s, quitting the job I’ve worked 40+ hours at for the last 4 years…

I’m excited.  I normally don’t get excited about change.  I actually kind of hate it.  But it takes a lot for me to make necessary changes, and I’m proud of myself for taking a bunch of steps to get everything I want in life.

Not to toot my own horn.

Toot toot, twiddly toot.

 

And that’s all I truly have the energy to think about at the moment.

 

 

Grandma

I’m sitting here now trying to decide what to wear to my grandmother’s funeral.  This is definitely the last thing I thought I’d be doing this week.  Five days ago, I picked up the set of Henry VIII movies she had sent me, laughing at the fact that she had specifically said they were DVDs when they were, in fact VHS.  I set it on my bookshelf, and noticed the note taped to the side.  Hi Chelsea, Here’s my Henry VIII wives set.  Please return sometime when you’re thru.  No rush.  I love you, Grandma.

I thought to myself how I should call her and see if she wanted to go to dinner soon, but vacation was coming up, I worked seven days straight beforehand, and I was going to see her in just a couple of days for the fourth of July.  Ten minutes before leaving work and heading to my parents’ house, I got a call from my father, and he broke the news to me.  “I have some bad news,” he said, “Grandma passed away.”  It felt like ten minutes went by before I could figure out what he was saying.

I kept saying, “What?” over and over as my voice got more hysterical and the tears started to come.  I couldn’t comprehend the news.  My grandma couldn’t be gone.  She was supposed  to outlive us all.  She was healthier than anyone I knew. 

I hadn’t seen or talked to her since Father’s Day.  If only I had called her when I saw the note, I might have been able to have one last conversation with her. 

There are so many things that should have been said.  It may be too late to say them now, but I have so many things to tell her, and I know that right now, she’s looking down on me, proud of me for so many things, and willing me to continue to write.  This is my letter to my grandma, and even though she may not be here to read it, I know she can feel how much we love and miss her, even now.

 Grandma,

We never have enough time to tell the ones we love how much we love them.  This is my greatest regret at the moment.  I know that if you could be sitting next to me right now, you’d tell me that I’m being ridiculous.  You lived your life without regrets, and wanted all of us to do the same.  Still, I can’t help wondering if you truly knew how big of an impact you had on me.

You were the most independent person I knew, and I hope that in all I do, I can be like you in that way.  You did what you wanted, wore what you wanted, said what you wanted, and still managed to offend no one with the way you lived your life.  You made it clear that the choices you made were never meant to reflect on anyone else, but only reflected on the way you felt.  You weren’t afraid to speak your mind, no matter who was listening.

The way you saw the world was amazing.  It was always clear to me that the most important thing in the world to you was love.  You loved everyone ferociously.  Everything you had, you wanted to give to others.  More importantly, you wished that the entire world operated that way, that everyone would be treated with love and respect.  The world doesn’t deserve to lose a person like you.

Yet, you wouldn’t want me to think that way.  You would have told me matter of factly that it was your time to go, and neither you nor I had the ability to change that fact.  That we shouldn’t even if we could.

What I admire the most is that you weren’t a contradiction.  You didn’t want anyone to fuss over you, and when you passed you did so in a way that was quiet, without worrying any of us with the idea that it was coming.  It’s a hard reality for Mom to handle, and I’m sure you’ve realized that, but I know deep down that you felt it was best, and would have been extremely annoyed if it had happened any differently.

I know my life has gotten busy in the past couple years.  We stopped going to our monthly dinner, and on occasion I had to miss holiday dinners because of my work schedule.  You weren’t selfish, though, and never held it against me that I only saw you once or twice a month.  Instead, you cherished the moments you spent with your grandchildren, regardless of how often it happened.

You will be missed more than you can imagine.  I still can’t wrap my head around the idea that I won’t be going to dinner with you for my birthday, won’t see you for Labor day, you won’t be able to meet your first great-grandchild, won’t be able to do the readings at my wedding.  All of these events won’t be the same without you, but I know you will be there in spirit, telling the same stories you’d tell us over and over, and telling everyone how proud you are of your family.

Life goes on, and I know you’d want it that way.  So I will keep on living life to the fullest, because doing otherwise would disappoint you.  I’ll keep on writing, because I know that doing so will make you proud. 

Tell Grandpa, Yiayia and Papou we love and miss them, and give them a kiss for us.  We know you all are happy and at peace watching over us.

I love you.  I hope you know that.

Chelsea.

The greatest tribute to the dead is not grief but gratitude.
Thornton Wilder