Unexpected Encounters [FICTION]

I leaned back to take in the last rosy moments of the sun settling into the ocean. I deserved this moment of peace and beauty. I earned every second of my three day vacation. My boss filled every workday with a million little tasks. Most of them were performed by me, but the intent was to take her beyond our small town six o’clock news hour. She was so close to her goal that I needed this recharge before she launched her spring season of sensational sightings. I took a deep breath and another sip of lemonade and let the warm, salted breeze blow all thoughts of work from my mind. Moments later, my eyes opened as a sharp noise pulled me from reverie.

My eyes rested on a couple sitting three tables away. The contrast between their heights and her blond hair and his dark locks struck me first. Then I noticed how they smiled at each other as they held hands. 

They turned to observe the glorious sunset over my shoulder. I gasped as recognition gave name to the woman—Kelly Ripa, the television personality my boss wished she was. Her eyebrow raised as our eyes met like she recognized me as well. She frowned. At least, her ingratiating smile flattened a little as she looked at me. (I am not sure she knows how to smile, which is one of many reasons she is perfect for her job.) She leaned in to whisper to her husband. His eyes surveyed me quickly and turned back to her as he leaned in to whisper emphatically in her ear. Her eyes met mine again as she shook her head in disagreement to whatever he said. With one more glance over his shoulder, he took her hand and guided her out of the restaurant.

Shaking my own head, I closed my eyes and went back to soaking the last warm rays of the day into my skin. When I opened them a half hour later, I blinked in surprise to find all light gone from the sky. My phone pinged to remind me that I had signed up for a night tour of the bay. I rushed to the nearby dock, joining the queue of tourists. Most held hands with the one by their side, but I felt no shame in taking this romantic ride alone. You gotta love yourself before you can love anyone else, right?

Two stewards in carefully pressed white uniforms helped us into life vests before allowing us to step onto the gangway. As we boarded, the captain suggested we stand along the railings, so we could see the city lights better. Surrounded by swooning couples, I kept my eyes on the shoreline, watching the lights bob up and down with every swell of the tides. As the boat drew further from the shore, the couple to my left stepped away from the railing. I glanced up curiously as another couple shifted into that space. My mouth dropped to find Kelly Ripa and her husband now standing at my side. He smiled politely. Her eyes narrowed for a second before she turned back to the view. I frowned but decided to ignore it. 

“And now a special surprise,” the captain announced.

All necks swiveled curious eyes toward him. He pointed up at the starry sky above. As our eyes followed his direction, the sky exploded in blossoming fireworks. Gasps filled the air between pops of promised color. As a particularly colorful spray filled the sky above us, the water swelled and the boat  bucked under our feet. I reached for the railing, but a body slammed into me before I could get a good hold, knocking me over the rail.

A familiar voice called out anxiously, “Woman overboard,” as the sea rose up to meet me and pull me under.

I sputtered in fear before realizing the buoyancy of my life vest had lifted me back to the surface. I took in deep breaths, trying to calm myself, while I waited for rescue. The stewards worked together to pull me back on board the boat as the last of the fireworks lit up the ship. Shivering and dripping brine, I scanned the faces of my fellow travelers. Most stared back at me with concern, but my attention fixated on Kelly who seemed to be arguing with her husband.

The stewards wrapped me in a thick, coarse blanket and held me steady as the captain turned the boat around. I heard voices around me, but none of the words broke through my suspicion that my dip in the bay wasn’t totally an accident. Upon arriving on shore, the stewards rushed me to a waiting ambulance to be checked out before returning to help others disembark. As I got poked and prodded, I watched my fellow passengers—most of whom failed to conceal their own attention to my condition.

As Kelly’s husband guided her down the gangway, two pairs of eyes lighted unabashedly on my bedraggled person. Arm in arm, they slowly approached. As the paramedic turned to them, her jaw dropped.

“Kelly Ripa?”

“Yes.” Kelly admitted with a shy smile before looking at me with wide, concerned eyes. “How’s the patient?”

Despite being star struck, the paramedic remembered herself, “I can’t really tell you that.” But she did turn pleading eyes to me, imploring me to let her answer the question anyway.

My eyes narrowed as I looked at Kelly, but I magnanimously offered, “You can tell me. If she hears…” I shrugged my shoulders.

“You seem to be alright, but I strongly suggest you get a round of antibiotics at the hospital,” she wrinkled her nose a little as her eyes roved over the wet hair plastered to my forehead and the newly unimproved color of my once white blouse.

“Is it okay if we have a moment with the patient?” Kelly’s husband asked as he turned a lovingly reproving look at his wife.

“Of course,” the paramedic eyed me with curiosity and envy before stepping away from the back of the ambulance to give us space.

I bit back the accusation building on my tongue as Kelly turned her eyes to me. Up close, they proved kinder than I ever imagined them while watching her show.

“I’m so sorry I knocked you into the water,” she offered softly.

My mouth dropped open, releasing a soft squeaking noise.

“I recognized you from your picture on your boss’s social media and when the ship bounced, I thought you were about to attack. My self-defense training kicked in…” she wrung her hands as she gazed into my eyes.

“My boss’s social media?” My mouth and mind latched onto that part of her explanation.

“Yes, after she sent me a couple weird letters, I looked her up.” Kelly answered defensively.

“She sent you letters?”

“Yeah. Talking about how she couldn’t wait to take over Live and meet so many important and famous people.”

Marc nodded his head. “The first one was awkwardly flattering, but the three that followed sounded a little scary.”

“Hence me reviewing my self defense training,” Kelly smiled at me for a moment before she turned downcast eyes to her feet, encased in sparkling blue heels.

I stared at them for a moment while I processed all of this. “Usually, I send out her letters…”

“I don’t think she would want someone else to read these,” Marc put an arm protectively around Kelly’s shoulders.

As I looked at them questioningly, they exchanged a glance.

“After they make sure you are okay, come find us in room 212. We will show you what we mean.”

~~~

That’s how I met one of my boss’s heroes, who had a restraining on her for reasons validated by the stack of letters they handed me in room 212. That is also how I ended up quitting my job and searching for a new one. Something tells me the resume and letter of inquiry I sent to Live with Kelly Ripa will go straight to the trash can, but maybe I will be wrong again.

~~~

Not sure why I have been struggling with my posts the past couple of weeks. Maybe I need a writer’s vacation? Want to help me fund one?

Troubles With Old Friends [FICTION]

The right or wrong number can change your life. You realize it when you balance your checkbook or get your math test back. But most people concern themselves more with the numbers we dial to reach the people we love. In my case, I dialed a number I used to know by heart.

As it rang, I held my breath. Would she answer? Would she sound the same? Would she remember me? If so, would she be happy to hear from me?

“Hello,” a familiar voice asks disinterestedly.

“Nessa?” my voice trembles.

“That’s me. Can I help you?”

“It’s Opal.”

Nothing. I clear my throat and wait.

“Wow! Girl! I haven’t heard from you in forever.”

Now I say nothing. Has she forgotten me? Was our big fight only on my side? What are the odds another Nessa has this number now?

“Opal? You still there?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you just call to hear my lovely voice or was there another reason?”

“Well, we haven’t talked in a while…”

“Twenty years, girl. Twenty years.” She sips something and I picture her leaning back with her legs propped up and her beverage of choice in hand as she casually takes a dainty drink as if we talk every day and nothing has changed. 

“Yeah. About that…”

“Are you doing a twelve step program or something?”

“Um…no…” Her forward acceptance of my call leaves me stalled out.

“Did you call to make amends?” She inquires as she takes another tiny sip and smacks her lips together.

I cringe as much from the lip smack as from the implication that I owe her an apology.

“Opal?” She asks.

“Still here,” I mutter.

“So, why did you call?” A tense edge hovers around her words.

I pause, debating if it is worth it, before finally softening my voice and continuing, “I guess you haven’t heard about Al?”

Her voice hardens, “You mean Al and you?”

“There was never an Al an I!”

“Right.” I swear I hear her eyes roll. “So I didn’t see you kissing him.”

“He was kissing me,” my voice rises and I take a deep breath, knowing she won’t believe anything I say about that night, “But none of that matters now. My mother just called…”

Silence falls for a few minutes before her subdued voice struggles through the air between us, “And?”

“She just talked to his mother. Nessa, Al died…” The calm in my own voice surprises me.

She chokes out, “How?”

“Car accident,” my voice lowers so much I worry she didn’t hear me.

“Was he…?”

I know the words she can’t ask, “No. He’s been on the wagon for years. He hit a patch of black ice and flipped his car.”

She clears her throat in an attempt to hide her feelings, but they still seep into every word. “So did you lose a bet or something?”

“Huh?”

“Why are you calling me instead of his mom?”

I take a deep breath before confessing. “I thought it would be better to hear it from a friend.”

“Are we friends?”

“We used to be…”

Silence fills the distance between us.

I finally break it with pleading words. “Maybe we can be again.”

“Maybe.” She sounds doubtful. “When’s the funeral.”

“Next weekend…”

“I’ll see you there?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Goodbye for now.”

“Goodbye.”

The line goes quiet and my mind races, wondering where this leaves our friendship.

~~

I know I keep writing these pieces that leave a million questions and probably beg to become a longer piece. If I filled out some of these and published them, would you buy it?

Change Your Life [FICTION]

High grass in the middle of winter. Perhaps there is some truth to global warming after all. Two weeks ago, I celebrated a white Christmas with my closest friends and now I don shorts to push a lawn mower around my house. As I turn around the back of the house, I stop short. Since the last time I mowed the grass, in September, something changed.

At the base of a large oak tree, a hole large enough for me to mow my way through gapes open between the roots. I stop the mower and slowly approach the hole. It doesn’t disappear , so I peer into it. I can’t see anything, so I lean in, holding onto the tree trunk. 

“That’s odd.”

Nestled among the tree’s twisted roots, my bedroom in my parents’ old house begs me to step through the hole. My desk, which succumbed to water damage many moves ago, holds a familiar array of college acceptance letters. On top of the pile, the one closest to home already bears my signature. The rest would end up in the trash by the end of the week though a college in the Midwest offered the most comprehensive scholarships.  

I step forward, expecting to snap out of the memory any moment now. As I draw closer to the desk, the papers flutter. I reach for the top one, surprised to feel it in my hand. Looking down at it, I wonder for the millionth time, “what if?”

I shuffle through the acceptance letters and move Midwestern Professional University to the top. I roll my eyes at myself. Changing a memory has no effect on my life. I turn back toward the hole and climb back out into the sunshine.

—

Light bounces off of glittering blankets of snow. Blinded, I don’t see the snowball until it bounces off my face. As I hold back tears and confusion, the world around me makes sense. And the handsome midwestern bear of a man kissing me better between apologies doesn’t get slapped. After all, he has been my husband since shortly after we graduated from Midwestern Professional College.  As he kisses me again, I look down to see two little girls ministering to my bruised face by hugging and kissing my snow pants clad legs.

My phone rings to announce my mom calling for our weekly chat. I put her on speaker.

“Honey, you are going to totally regret not moving back home. It is 75 degrees. In January. Your father is outside showing off his pasty legs in shorts while he mows the lawn.”

“I dunno, mom. I am pretty happy here, but we miss you and dad.”

“Bring those kiddos home to see grandma soon. We’ll save some sun for them.”

~~~

When I wrote this in November, how did I know this crazy weather would be making me question what season I am in on a regular basis. Sorry this offering is so late, but it has arrived, so no pitchforks, please.

Sibling Snow Secrets [FICTION]

My brother takes mere seconds to open the door and usher me impatiently into his warm house. I glance over my shoulder at the snow fluttering to the ground. Then I follow my grunting sibling into his living room where his two sons stare out the window in wonder.

“Snow, snow, come and stay. We’ll go to school another day.” They chant happily.

“The magic still works.” I smirk.

“There is no such thing as magic,” he mumbles distractedly. “Just people beating the odds to make hard things happen.”

“What crawled up your butt?” I ask as he brushes past me.

He rolls his eyes but otherwise disregards my question. “Thanks for watching the kids. I’ll try to be home as soon as possible.”

“Yeah. Yeah. You have a top secret government job, so you can’t let me know when you’ll be home.”

He grins at me. “Thankfully you don’t have an important job. Otherwise, who would watch the kids?”

“Hey now,” I search for a defense, but he has already slipped out the door and slammed it in my face.

I shake my head and turn my attention back to my niece and nephew. After having a door slammed in my face, I think the children need to learn how to aggravate their father. I doubt my old tricks will work for them, but surely we can come up with something. 

Unfortunately, his children aren’t as keen on diving him crazy as I am. I guess I will have to wait until they hit their teens. As they try to convince me to let them watch a show I know they shouldn’t, an unfamiliar ping breaks up the conversation.

John looks toward the sound anxiously, “Uh-oh!”

“Is that an alarm of some kind,” I leap from he couch and prepare to hustle the children out the door.

“It’s dad’s phone, and he is always on it for work…” Alan reassures me, reaching out to pull me back down onto the couch. “Don’t worry. He’ll realize and come back for it.”

One ring gives way to more demanding rings. I peer down at the phone where a red-faced man glowers under the name Boss.

“I better explain that Davey left his phone,” I whisper to the kids as I pick up the phone and use my most professional voice. “Davey’s phone.”

“Jones, stop trying to sound like a woman and get yourself over here.” He includes a few choice swear words, but my brain edits them out.

“Jones?” I ask. “I’m sorry. You must have the wrong number.”

More curses greet me. “…serious business…people are in danger and he is playing…games. I never dial the wrong number. Who is this?”

“I am not sure I should answer that,” I walk away from the curious eyes of my two nephews, lowering my voice as I step out onto the screened in back porch. “My brother has you listed as boss on his phone, but his name isn’t Jones.”

His gruff voice softens, “Ah. You must be Matilda. Where is Davey…Davey Jones, get it?”

“Um. No.”

“You really are young aren’t you?” He coughs. “Stop screwing around and tell your brother to take the phone.”

I clear my throat. “He forgot it at home.”

“Then where the h…” he edits himself this time, “is he?”

I shrug then remember he can’t see me and squeak, “Hopefully coming back to get it.”

He offers more curses to the air and then hangs up on me abruptly. I put the phone in my pocket and hurry back inside to thaw out. My nephews watch me anxiously.

“Is Daddy getting fired?” Alan asks.

“Not as far as I know,” I pat my pocket.

“But he left his phone and he can’t get updates from his boss if he leaves his phone,” his dark eyes widen with concern.

“Yeah. That does seem odd.” I pull my own phone out of my other pocket and click to call him.

After a couple rings, his voice greets me as if from a tunnel. “Can’t really talk, sis. Driving in a snow storm. Are the boys alright?”

“You just said an awful lot for someone who can’t talk,” I can’t help myself.

“Sis?” He asks anxiously.

“Yeah. The boys are fine, but your boss called on your other phone.”

“What?” My ears ache from his scream and the ensuing tire screeching. “Please tell me you didn’t answer it.”

“Well…” As I search for the right words, it rings again from in my pocket.

“Do not answer it.” He mumbles something I can’t understand and then continues. “I’m headed back to the house.”

He begins yelling at another driver as he ends the call. I sit down on the couch next to John who gives me a hug. The phone rings three more times before Davey gets back. I have just handed him his phone when loud banging on the door makes everyone jump. Both nephews jump into my arms, pulling me down onto the couch. 

“Jones, you better open this door or your neighbors are going to hear some things you’ll be ashamed of,” his boss’s now familiar voice booms.

“Thank so much for answering my phone, sis,” Davey glares at me as he opens the door.

The red-faced man fills the doorway, nodding at me curtly before reaching out a huge hand to pull Davey out onto the porch. The boys cuddle into me, terrified as the door slams closed.  Despite the door between us and what I assume are his version of hushed tones, the boss’s voice carries through.

“I told you not to go out on your own.”

We can’t hear Davey’s reply but his boss clearly doesn’t approve of it.

“We can do more than fire you, Jones. This is treason.”

I gasp. The boys cuddle closer to me, turning their little faces upward to silently plead for me to make it better. I hold them tighter and try to guide them from the door. Both voices have hushed since the word treason hit our ears. I’ve never been so transfixed on a closed door in my life as I am right now. When it finally opens, I jump. My nephews jump with me.

The red-faced man steps through the doorway and extends his hand to me. “Sorry to be meeting under these circumstances, Matilda.”

I take his hand but don’t even search for words because his intense expression speaks of more words to come and intolerance of interruptions.

“Your bother tells me you love spy novels?”

I glance at my brother trying not to glare at his him as I gage his response. He shrugs his shoulders and puts his hands in his pockets. Alan and John rush over to him as the boss turns his attention back to me.

“Would you mind stepping outside?”

I look at Davey, hoping he will save me, but he offers nothing but a pleading look, so I turn back toward that angry red face and nod in agreement. This time, I grab my coat and slip my feet into my boots before stepping out onto the front stoop. 

After furtive glances up and down the street, the man takes my hands with unexpected gentleness. “Your brother is in a lot of trouble. From what he has told me about you in the past, you just might be able to help us…”

I open my mouth to speak, but he shushes me. “It could be dangerous, so before I say anything else, you decide if you are willing to take the risk.”

“Without knowing what you expect me to do?”

“Sorry. That is often the way things work in this business.”

“What business is that?” 

“Are you interrogating me?” His lips quirk upward, but his smile looks like a snarl.

I shudder but straighten my shoulders. “I have a feeling more is at stake here than my brother’s job…”

He eyes me warily for a moment as he chooses words. “Let’s just say you’d be keeping a lot of people safe.”

I sigh. “Like many reluctant heroes before me, I accept.”

He reaches out his hand to shake mine. “Come on then, girl. Tell your brother you’re fixing the problems he’s made and let’s get you ready to save the world.”

~~~

The real world warmed up so much that I almost thought it was spring this week, but who doesn’t love a story about snow, right? At some point, I might need to clear up my “to do” list and try to expand some of these stories. Should this one be one of them?