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?

Clowning Around [FICTION]

I fumble around in the dark, trying to locate my phone. My voluminous pants don’t have pockets. I find a pair of suspenders, snapping them curiously as my hands continue to seek some semblance of my normal attire. A beam of light shines down on me and I blink back tears.

“You okay?” A deep voice rumbles though the darkness.

Before I dare to answer, I let my eyes adjust enough to get a good look at the asker. A short man with an incredibly broad chest for his height looks down at my prostrate form with concerned eyes. He holds a flashlight in one hand and a bucket of water in the other.

“I don’t know.”

“Still clowning around?” He grins.

This reminds me of the difficulty I had finding pants pockets. I glance down to find myself garbed in oversized blue pants and a garish yellow shirt bedecked in pink stars. I reach toward my face, feeling a thick coating of grease paint. I pull my hand back to find it smeared with white and red. I hesitate before reaching up with my other hand to to snatch a wig from my head. I stare at the fuzzy, red head-covering in my hand and wonder how I came to be dressed as a clown in the middle of a circus ring.

“Wait a second, you aren’t Martha. Who are you?” The man asks, training his flashlight beam on the blond curls now tumbling past my shoulders.

“Who is Martha?” I ask, trying to place the name.

“The clown whose face and outfit you stole.” He advances on me with the bucket of water and flashlight.

“I am sure I didn’t steal anything. I seriously don’t remember how I ended up here.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but a loud hiccup coming from the pool at the base of the high dive draws our attention. To my relief, he sets down the bucket of water and holds the flashlight firmly in both hands as he turns it toward the sound. I slowly clamber to my feet and follow. He glances over his shoulder suspiciously, so I back off, keeping close enough to get a good look at everything caught in the beam of the flashlight. When it falls on the pool, I begin to remember the previous evening.

A dress I recognize as my own barely covers the robust form of a brunette, who struggles to rise to a seated position as the light shines on her. 

“I’m ready for my close up.” She burbles drunkenly as she finally rights herself.

“Martha. Are you okay?” The short man glares at me and steps forward to offer her a steady arm.

Martha takes it with a giggle and then notices me standing in the shadows. “Harry, I am so glad you met my new friend Diane. We had a ball last night.”

“Did you?” He turns to look at me, his gaze softening a little. “Diane, could you hold this flashlight, so I can help Martha out of the pool?”


She giggles as he bends down a little to lift her into his arms. He cradles her against his chest for a moment and then sets her gently onto her feet. She stands shakily, resting a hand on his head to hold herself steady. He doesn’t seem to mind as he rests his head affectionately against her hip briefly after she steadies herself.

“So which one of you ladies wants to tell me what happened here last night?” He asks as he takes in the further signs of mayhem littering the center ring, from tufts of white fluff to what appears to be a trail of candies leading toward the main entrance.

I look at Martha, but she just waves her hand at me. “Jokes, I have, but answers about last night are still fuzzy. You?”

“I am starting to remember a few things.” I admit.

“Then let’s find a place to sit for a few minutes, so you can fill me in on what brought about all the extra work for me this morning.” Harry leads us to the front row of the bleachers and helps Martha get comfortable. She leans heavily on him, grinning at me as I piece together memories as they slowly return.

“Apparently, we met last night in a karaoke bar. Apparently, my virgin margaritas weren’t virgin because things are a little hazy…”

Martha interrupts to inform us. “I was drinking virgin daiquiris.” She follows this up with a burp directly in Harry’s face.

His face contorts as he turns away. “I think both of you got more than you bargained for.”

“I can’t be drunk,” Martha slurs. “I have to walk the tightrope.” Her eyes light on me again. “And your clown suit looks just like mine.”

“This is your clown suit. Apparently, we swapped outfits sometime during the night.”

Her eyes open wide. “And then we sang ‘I Got You Babe’ and you were Sonny.”

“I have a vague recollection of that. And then they kicked us out of the bar because it was closing time.”

“And we rode home in the clown car?”

“I think it was an uber. Someone loved your version of Cher and offered us a ride.”

“Or they love how I fill out your dress.” She laughs until she snorts.

Harry frowns at this.

Martha remains oblivious. ‘We’re best friends for life now, aren’t we, Diane?”

“I hope so,” I respond, “because I have a feeling I am going to remember some things that I need you to swear not to ever speak of.”

“Yay, besties.” She throws herself into my arms and that’s when we realize the flower is still loaded…

~~I once aspired to be a clown. Does that surprise you? I might still have it in me…~~

Doing Good [FICTION]

Sometimes I let my friends convince me to be a better person. We always end up somewhere I wouldn’t choose to be. This time, I find myself in the dusty basement of a stale-smelling church, surrounded by boxes and bags of yard sale rejects.The pastor assigned me to sort the chafe from the wheat by type while making the final decision to toss anything that even the craziest bargain shopper won’t pay a penny for. My solution to this last piece of advice was to label a box with a handwritten sign declaring EVERYTHING MUST GO: ONE PENNY. I will let the purchaser decide if I mean for the entire box or each piece. I have tossed a few almost destroyed books into the box thus far and a shoe with no mate. I add another unsalvageable volume, placing it with exaggerated care.

I move on to the next item in the pile. I murmur appreciatively at what great shape the small, leather suitcase is in. It only has a couple of scratches on the outside. I hold my breath as I open it and peek inside. I slowly take in a breath, relieved that no noxious fumes assail me. I have already had a couple of unpleasant odors that I instantly vanquished into the trash can this morning. I check all of the pockets, finding nothing until my fingers connect with a folded sheet of paper tucked into the skinny pocket on the outside.

Curious, I unfold it and begin reading the contents.

“February 20, 2021

“Dear world,

“It is with a sad heart that I write this, but you don’t care. You never did. You never will. The blip that was me will go unmourned. I doubt even my family or friends will notice that I winked out of existence. If they do, I’m sorry I am gone, but had you wanted me to stay, you would have let me know. So in accordance with all the melodrama expected of a last missive, I say goodbye cruel world and all those who didn’t get me or want to.

“No longer yours,

“Niall Early”

“Niall,” I mutter, pulling out my phone. “I swore I talked to him a week ago.”

I scroll through my texts which assure me that Niall responded to some banefully dull text I sent last week. The reassurance only goes so far though. I start to send a text and reconsider. This is the sort of issue people need to discuss in person. I tuck the letter into my pocket and finish my shift.

As soon as the pastor releases me from the day’s duties, I shake his hand and head over to Niall’s house. It looks as well-kept as ever, possibly more so. I tiptoe along the pristine stone path, envying the lush green lawn and perfectly arranged flowerbeds on either side. I ring the bell and wait.

“Coming. Coming. Keep your pants on or take them off if you’re a pretty girl,” Niall’s deep voice greets me from the other side of the door.

I blush despite the fact that I know my pants are staying where they are. The door swings open and I find myself looking into the grinning faces of Niall Early, looking well and happy. He perks up when his eyes rest on me. 

‘Well, hello, Susie Sunshine. Did you get too much sun? Those cheeks are are very red today.”

I bristle at the childhood nickname, but remembering the content of the letter, I manage to calm my anger. I ignore him as he says a few more suggestive things. I wait for an opening and slide the note from my pocket. He looks at it curiously but fails to find words to ask about it. 

“So I was volunteering at the church today and I found something in a piece of luggage…” I start, slowly unfolding the note, so he can get a good look at it.

He reaches for it and then realizes what it must be and drops his hand like I just offered him a ball of fire. “Oh. Yeah. That was just a joke.”

I watch his face, which doesn’t echo his words. “If you say so. You can keep that then.”

He takes the paper, folding it up and sliding it into his pocket. “Thanks. I won’t need it.”

“I hope not.” I reply, letting a pause linger between us in the hopes that he will speak if he needs to get something off of his mind.

He holds my gaze, trying to keep his lewd smile firmly in place, but it slips. “Okay. I had a rough February, Susie, but clearly I am fine. I totally forgot about that letter and clearly I didn’t follow through with anything.”

“But you did feel that way…” I struggle to find the correct words.

“You keep trying to help me with this and I might think you care,” his male bravado gives way to defensiveness.

“Nope. Not at all. I drove over here after a long day volunteering just to see your pretty face.” I opt for the lower road, the one he prefers.

His lips tilt upward just a little as he opens the door. “You make a good point. You can come inside if you want.” As I step over the threshold, I can feel his eyes scanning my form. “You can leave your pants on if you want…”

I hesitate, glancing back at my nice, safe car, but I step deeper into the house, which proves as pristine as his lawn. “You don’t happen to have a gardener and a maid, do you?”

“I wish. Sadly, that is all me. Come to the kitchen. I can get you a glass of ice water.”

“Sounds good.” I follow him.

As I get situated with my ice water, he starts to unburden himself. “My girlfriend broke up with me in February. Apparently, I have done a good job playing the playboy. My friends tried to take me out to the club to find a new woman. My parents dismissed my sadness and told me there was no reason for me to be sad. I mean there are other girls in the sea.” He takes a sip of ice water, watching my reaction as he continues. “So they stopped talking to me entirely. It was kind of a dark time.”

I nod my head, but no words come to me that wouldn’t sound insulting or uncaring. I follow his example and take a long, slow sip of icy water.

He grins at me. “You don’t need to worry, Susie Sunshine, I don’t have a girlfriend to lose, unless you want to volunteer, and my family has already begun contacting me about the holidays. I won’t entertain any foolish thoughts.”

“If you can stop calling me Susie Sunshine, you can call if you need to talk. I promise I will listen.”

“So that is a yes to being my girlfriend?”

“No. Just a friend who is a girl.”

He ponders this for a minute. “Sounds like a fair trade, Susie…” He pauses as he looks down at his phone, struggling not to add on the extra word.

I laugh, wondering what I have gotten myself into as he starts talking again. This time innuendo laces every word, but he keeps his hands to himself, so maybe I can convince him to stop playing the Lothario with me.

~~Hope you find the chance to do good today and that it is taken in the right light.~~

[RANTINGS] Private Pain

I've been struggling with this post for a number of months now. I'm never quite sure I have used the right words, but I decided to put it out there for the world to see and critique. Feel free to let me know if I need to clarify. My thoughts jump around too much for me to trust that I have said everything I meant to say.

Some mornings, I scroll through the posts my friends have left on social networking sites and cringe. They spill out their most private and personal pain for everyone to see. Sometimes I am overwhelmed with sadness for them and sometimes I am weary from reading posts like this from the same people every day. I know many people just seek friends to lend the courage to keep going when life kicks them in the teeth. Friends can then offer anything from physical assistance to words of comfort or reassurance. Not everyone is brave or open enough to reveal their private lives to so many eyes, but that doesn't negate their pain or their trials.

Sadly, some of my friends break down at every small trial that they face. They require so much attention that they tell everyone about hangnails, breakups, and other personal disasters with so much regularity that I've become immune to their woes. Maybe I don't understand because I  ride the opposite end of the spectrum. I tend not to share much of what happens in my world. From new cars to rejection letters, I question how interested people are in my daily activities. And for those pains that may hit more deeply, deep enough to break my heart, I hold those even closer. I don't need a dozen people trying to make my pain about them in some way or telling me to just get over it because it happens to everyone. I'd rather share my joys than my sadness, but that doesn't mean I don't understand private pain.

People receive rejection letters, get waylaid by heartbreak, catch the flu, lose loved ones, and suffer more critical medical emergencies every day. I don't want a play by play of someone else's stomach flu, complete with details of what came out when they coughed. I do appreciate updates if their condition improves or worsens, but sometimes I feel like the extremely detailed accounts are meant to inspire me to throw money or service at their problems. If you need help, please ask. We should be brave enough to ask people outright if we want someone to  check on us, remind us that we are loved, bring us a meal, or help in some other way. Too often, people inundate us with details that leave their friends confused and then get mad when no one rushes to offer help.

I actually like to be left alone when I am sick. Whether I am trying to wrap my heart and head around a loss or revealing my stomach contents to the porcelain throne, I firmly believe the world doesn't need to be subjected to the unpleasantness that comes with my illnesses. I appreciate friends that love me and worry about me, but making the trek from the bed to the door doesn't make me feel better. I have also found that even when I give more information than a simple "I'm sick," people fail to pay attention to my outright statements of need. When I had a stomach flu that made eating solid foods, let alone keeping them down, impossible, three people brought me enough meals to feed a healthy person for a week. That food sat in my fridge for a week without me being able to force down a single bite. I appreciated the thought but felt bad about the wasted food.

In order to avoid awkward conversations when my mother passed, I made a blanket announcement on facebook. Despite informing people that I wouldn't be responding to phone calls, emails, and posts on social media, well-wishers inundated me with well-meaning lectures on my wall, phone calls that led to people being offended when I politely answered in case it was an emergency and then didn't bawl for them, and unnecessarily long comments on how they felt about my pain. I really didn't care for any of that. I may have been more receptive a week later, but at the time, I decided to ignore the uninvited guests to my private pity party. And, of course, some people haven't talked to me since I didn't validate their existence by thanking them for canned platitudes. (Am I terrible for not missing them?)

Lately, my mind turned toward the private pain of others. I keep my thoughts to myself because I know I can't say anything to make it better. I've also resisted the urge to just grab them and hug them until the pain goes away because that would be a super long, not to mention awkward.

So maybe some of the things I wish I could say to those friends will help someone else who stumbles upon this page:

1) You are not alone. Someone is here for you. If you are my friend, I am here for you. I may not always understand, and I will probably try to fix it with baked goods and bad jokes, but I am here for you and I love you. And even if I don't know you, you have your own Bella who loves you very much (and a Heavenly Father who loves you more than our human hearts can understand).

2) I know that people offer you lots of advice or tell you their story. They know you don't want advice. They know your story probably won't turn out exactly like theirs did. What you should hear when their story starts out something like, "In my experience..." or "When I was in a similar situation..." is "I love you. I don't completely understand everything you are going through, but I still wish I could help, even if it is just by wiping away those tears, so I am telling you how things turned out better than I thought  they would for me to offer you hope. Not to tell you that you are living your life wrong or making the wrong choices, but to let you know I love you and am here for you."

3) Please try to stop us before we make you angry or make you cry. I would sincerely hope that is never someone's intent when they bring up whatever subject brings such pain to your heart. Sometimes people just keep talking to fill that empty awkward silence or ask questions because they want to understand.

4) Let people help you. I touched on this before. If people aren't quick to offer help, don't assume they don't care. All people aren't graced with the ability to just know what is needed. Don't be ashamed or afraid to ask if you truly need help. Your friends will be happy to help as best they can. (I should point out that wanting someone to be at your beck and call every day of the week may be taking things too far. Sadly, this has happened to me in the past, and most people will stop answering when you cry wolf too often. To be clear, I know people who have recurring health problems and could use daily help. I refer to those who just want daily reassurance that they are the most important person in their friend's life.)

5) I must offer my unsolicited feelings somewhere, so consider yourself warned about this one. When life doesn't go the way we planned, it leads us to where we need to be. Look back a little, those of you have some years behind you. Think about all the things you ever wanted. Now focus on the ones you didn't get. How many of them were such a big loss that you didn't live without them? (I lived without having to clean up after that pony, without dating or marrying those boys I once found so charming who still haven't grown into men, without getting that super sexy car that I would have just parked in a garage and buffed with a diaper for fear of it getting scratched or dented, and without joining the circus--though this last one is still a possibility).

As for the rest of us:

1) Be more aware of how your friends are responding to your advice and sympathies. If they are getting noticeably annoyed, stop talking or change the subject. Offer to take them out for ice cream. Let them lead the conversation. If they want to talk about it they will. Sometimes we just want the companionship of someone who loves us.

2) When you hear that someone you don't really know has lost a loved one, got rejected by the college of their choice, or still hasn't attained their next life goal (graduation, marriage, baby, a promotion, retirement), don't assume they need you to guide them through it. Please leave that up to people that are closer to them unless they come to you for help. Unsolicited advice from casual acquaintances rarely helps a situation or makes the intended recipient feel better.

3) Make sure friends who struggle know you are there for them. Use your best judgment as to how to tell them and how often to remind them. Sometimes just knowing that someone is there to talk, want to help distract with activities you both enjoy, or just bake cookies and let you eat them in peace, can offer the greatest comfort.

4) Sometimes, a small act of service can say more than our words. One of my friends spends more than her fair share of time in the hospital. I find myself wishing I lived closer than two thousand miles away, so I convince her husband to let me clean and a tidy their house a little in her absence.

5) Remember that not everyone is just like you. Tailor your behavior to the person you want to comfort. (I find that prayer helps with that, but my thoughts on that might push this post into the preachy category.)

[PREACHY] Raising a Barn

I felt the following thoughts might require a new warning label. 

All who read further, consider yourself warned!

With social media to help us keep up on the happenings of friends far away, cell phones to give us instant access to people almost everywhere they go,  inventions to wash our dishes and clothes, and so many other mass-produced products to save us time, we remain busy, far too busy to participate in our own lives. We make excuses, avoid responsibilities, and wiggle free of committing a little time to those we love.

I have an image in my head of the supports for a barn slowly rising toward the sky. The men and women helping to build this structure don't require payment. They are friends and neighbors, who have come together to sweat in the sun until their job is done. They work together for the greater good. This concept gets lost in the shuffle of me, mine, want, and desire. We simply don't have the time to help one another with daily tasks, let alone the big jobs that may happen once in a lifetime.

On occasion, I remind friends how long it has been since we spent time together. The list of their obligations quickly flows from their lips. I counter with an offer to join them for canning, sewing, cleaning, even shopping. Skeptical looks always follow. Have we come so far from quilting bees and gathering at harvest time to preserve the fruits of our labors? We are all busy, but can't we make some tasks easier by sharing them with friends? I feel like I accomplish more with an extra set of hands, and I even feel better after peeling peaches with a friend all afternoon than I would watching television with my crafts scattered around me.

The concept of helping others clearly didn't originate with me. The scriptures remind us again and again that in helping others we help ourselves, whether the person we helped is able to help us later or our action improves our character or hones our skills. Among the stories that enters my mind is the familiar tale of the good Samaritan. The man least loved and least respected took the time to stop to help a man whom others who claimed to be in the service of their God took such great effort to avoid. He even exerted more effort to make sure the man was cared for until he was well enough to return to his own home. That story alone should  be enough to inspire us to reach out to each other.

With your indulgence, I'm going to share some scriptures and my thoughts on them as they apply to the ideas swirling in my mind. (I just hope it makes sense outside of my head. That is always the trick, isn't it?)

Mosiah 18:9 (Book of Mormon)

Yea, and are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places that ye may be in, even until death, that ye may be redeemed of God, and be numbered with those of the first resurrection, that ye may have eternal life--

Matthew 5:4

Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.

1 Thessalonians 5:11

Wherefore comfort yourselves together, and edify one another, even as also ye do.

How often do our friends weep without receiving a shoulder to cry on? We've forgotten how to just love those who have suffered a great loss. We feel like we have to fix it, and when we can't, we just step away and hope for the best. Sometimes, you need to drop by with a casserole that will never be eaten or offer to hold a hand and listen to silence, weeping, or bittersweet memories. Even when we mourn our own loss, we can offer comfort to loved ones as we seek solace. Never underestimate the power of togetherness to help assuage the pain of a wounded heart.

1 Thessalonians 5:14

Now we exhort you, brethren, warn them that are unruly, comfort the feebleminded, support the weak, be patient toward all men.

Admittedly, far too many people look for handouts, but we still need to have enough compassion to help those who truly can't help themselves. My husband and I donate to an organization that actually helps people learn to work within their limitations. If you are too weak to run, you can still walk. You may be terrible at math but really good at hammering nails. We all have our strengths and weaknesses. It helps us remember that we need each other and need not spend our lives completely alone. It also helps to remember that others can benefit from our counsel. If we know that the main road is covered in ice, wouldn't we warn our friends not to drive on it unless absolutely necessary?

Doctrine and Covenants 112:11

(Modern scriptures of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints)

I know thy heart, and have heard thy prayers concerning thy brethren. Be not partial towards them in love above many others, but let thy alove be for them as for thyself; and let thy love abound unto all men, and unto all who love my name.

Ephesians 4:32 

And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.

Sometimes we feel we have nothing to offer, but we can always offer a prayer, even for those we don't know or live too far away for us to easily reach out to them. Though they may not always deserve it, loving our fellow human beings actually benefits us more than holding grudges or resentments. We should willingly serve them when we can without hoping for a big payout or grand praise. By the same note, while we shouldn't expect others to offer us assistance, we probably would receive it more often if we offered our two hands in service more willingly. Many of my friends stepped up to help me with my wedding plans simply because they knew I would do the same for them. It helped make the day less stressful and made me feel closer to them.

1 Timothy 1:18-19

That they do good, that they be rich in good works, ready to distribute, willing to communicate;

Laying up in store for themselves a good foundation against the time to come, that they may lay hold on eternal life.

Philippians 2:2

Fulfil ye my joy, that ye be likeminded, having the same love, being of one accord, of one mind.

Mosiah 18:28 (Book of Mormon)

And thus they should impart of their substance of their own free will and good desires towards God, and to those priests that stood in need, yea, and to every needy, naked soul.

When we recognize that helping others makes the world a better place, we will find joy. We will find peace for ourselves and those we love by sharing our skills. We may have moved beyond barn raising, but we can support our friends and family by offering a hand in service from time to time. Maybe today is the day we need to set aside that movie we want to watch in order to spend time with our friends whether it be watching their kids so they can clean, helping them prepare dinner for their family, or just listening...

(RANTINGS) Let's Be Friends

I take friendship very seriously. In the past, I have not discriminated. I offered a friendly hand to anyone who asked. After getting burned numerous times, I learned some qualities I do not like in friends. I came to treasure those attributes my true friends possess. Herein, I shall list a few of those qualities both negative and positive.

+Accepting. Being an "odd duck" (among the nicer ways people describe me), my best friends don't mind my plethora of quirks. They accept me as I am, don't try to change me, and don't feel shame in being my friend even when others question their sanity for such a choice.

+Considerate. We all have our moments of selfishness. I have found that for some friends the selfishness never goes away. With others, I know that they consider my feelings before their own at the right times. (Not all of the time since I also have a tendency to unwarranted selfishness just like the average person.)

-Forceful. It doesn't happen often, but people have tried to force me to be their friend. If it doesn't happen naturally, insisting that we must get together isn't going to make me your friend. Some personalities should not mix with mine and I have learned the signs of some of them through past experience. Others thought they could force me to change into some twisted image they formed of me in their head. If you really know me, you know that just opened the door to friendship tragedy and they fell out.

-Gossip. You can't talk to a gossip. They spread your news like it was their own. They even twist the truth a little before sharing to amp up the interest. I've also had a friend get mad at me when I didn't share someone else's news with them. I firmly believe people should share the news of their engagements, babies, and promotions in their own time and their own way. Sharing such belief with someone who craves the gossip limelight, however, just makes them more desperate to glean information from your silence.

+Grateful. I don't need a thank you card every time I do something nice, but it is nice when people acknowledge that you do nice things. Since we really have no obligation to be nice to each other, which manifests itself more and more as society devolves into communication of bits and bytes and little real human contact, we should take more notice of friends who take time to think of our needs.

+Honest. The best thing one friend ever said to me was that she liked me much better when I went to church because I was nicer afterward. Of the millions of nice things she has said to me, that one sticks with me. She was right and I needed to be reminded to be a better person, particularly to her. For instance, I appreciate people who aren't afraid to tell me that they don't like a certain type of cookie that I make. Otherwise, I may keep giving them those cookies over and over. You get the idea.

+Humor. I love a good joke. I like people who make me laugh. Of course, we all know that some life events don't need humor, but on the average day, I like friends who are able to make me laugh...even when it hurts a little.

+Listening. Some of my best friendships center around being able to just talk to someone. The best of my friends know that once I get an annoyance off my chest, it is gone. I don't really hate that person who rudely talked through a lesson I taught--I just can't understand being that rude. These friends don't try to fix it. They know that getting it out helps me and they know my ears are available for their soul-baring needs and my lips are sealed.

+Loyal. My definition of loyalty doesn't mean my friends can only be friends with me. Sometimes, they may disagree with me when I fight with a mutual friend. I expect them to share their views with me instead of talking behind my back. I also feel justified in feeling they should have my back when someone is tearing me down even when I may never find out that they passively listened while someone told lies about me.

-Needy. Ever have a friend insist on calling you fifteen minutes before you were supposed to meet up and insist you stay on the phone with them until you head out? I have, even after I reminded them I needed to finish some things before I could keep our lunch date. That was the first of about twelve phone calls from this person that day. Sadly, this was the norm and nothing I said could make them realize their neediness just made me draw away.

-Possessive. When your friends think they own you, your life can become quite stressful. I have had friends get mad at me for only spending six of seven days hanging out with them. Another friend tried to get me to go to lunch with her when she knew I had other plans. When I refused, she showed up at my other meeting and glared at me from the back of the room. Once, she even lied about having an emergency when she knew I had plans with someone else. When I came to check on her, she had another friend there and told me to have a seat--so they could both ignore me. Needless to say, all her current emergencies go unanswered by my friendship 9-1-1 service.

+Respect. Real friends don't forget to value their friends and show respect. Even if you think I sit at home all day with my feet propped up, bon bons balanced on my ever expanding belly, and the remote plastered to one hand, you should still ask before you make plans for me. True friends show respect by asking even when they think they already know the answer. Of course, they still cover their ears when I start to sing, "R-E-S-P-E-C-T..." or any other song. They aren't crazy, after all.

-Secret. I've had people assure me that we were friends but follow those words with an admonition to keep it secret. If you don't want people to know you are my friend, you aren't my friend and that is fine with me.

+Sisterly. I have many friends who are more like sisters than anything else. Recently, I got to see one of these friends for the first time in four years. We instantly started giggling like schoolgirls as we tried on dresses and caught up on events since our last phone conversation. A couple of other friends of this caliber amaze me because they get me and my quirks. I'll be ranting about something and they'll say something along the lines of, "Don't they know that you don't like that?" And I didn't like that and clearly never have. And even after we fight over something as ridiculous as whose turn it was to wash the dishes, we still love each other fiercely.

-Users. Some people have proven to only be my friend when they need something. Even sadder, they were rude about me helping them, making me wait fifteen minutes while they yammered on and on with someone else before giving me the details of the favor they wanted. Real friendships require give and take from both friends.

Good friends can survive anything. If you can live thousands of miles apart, don't talk for months or even years, and still feel like you've always been side by side, you have formulated a true friendship. Treasure it.

New Beginnings...

Before you get started, I must confess that my brain seems to be determined to write a novel now that I have neglected this oasis on the web for two whole months. So I ABSOLUTELY MUST post something to ring in the new year. As I worked on this little tale, I realized I have questions that I want to answer. Some precede this token of my affection for my readers, others follow. I shall work to answer those questions and post at least half of them next week. In the meantime, read, enjoy, and post questions. Maybe I missed one. XOXO!

Even with the roaring of music and laughter that rages around her, subtle ringing finally sends Kirsten’s hand sliding down into her date’s pocket. He smiles for a moment until her hand reappears with her cell phone. She keeps step with her dance partner even as her eyes focus on the phone. A frown creases her face as she reads a name amid a soft, blue glow.

“Sorry.” She mouths as she pushes a button.

She lifts the phone to her ear. Hearing nothing, she shrugs, and slips the phone back into his pocket. Her date tightens his grip, pulling her further into an awkward embrace. As she leans into his chest, smelling the soft nuances of his cologne, the tiniest bit of her lip slips into her mouth. She gnaws worriedly for a minute as a soft tone indicates a message waiting for her.

Her hand seeks out her phone again. Her date loosens his hold as she hits buttons on the touchscreen. She waits a few seconds before hitting a few numbers followed by the pound key. Then she rests the phone against her ear.

The usually bubbly voice of her best friend greets her with muted tones. “I won’t be alive in three hours to wish you a happy new year, but I know you’ll make the best of it. Happy new year, Kirsten.”

A chill runs through her as a heavy click cuts off April’s voice. Kirsten slowly pushes a button to put out the soft glow of the screen. She looks into the questioning face of her dance partner. She mouths her apologies again.

“I have to go.” She leans in to whisper but gives him no time to respond.

Hurried footsteps carry her out of the warmth of the hotel. She had hoped to ring in the new year with her blind date, but they hadn’t really clicked. Both clung to the hope that maybe letting their date last until after midnight would change that, but she knows April needs her right now. This helps her ignore the guilt that tries to gnaw at her. Since the countdown clock blinks 3:30, she has less than half an hour to figure out how to help her friend…if that.

As she steps out onto the snowy sidewalk, the noise she hoped to escape meets the dissonance of rival revelries up and down the street. She places the phone to one ear and covers the other with her free hand. The phone on the other end rings again and again and again. Finally, she reaches her friend’s voicemail. She shivers slightly as she waits for the message to end.

“April, call me back. I have to talk to you.” She forces words through chattering teeth before stepping back into the building and claiming her coat from the overflowing coat closet.

Her coat hangs heavy about her shoulders as she steps back into the chill. After slipping a glove on one hand, she scrolls through her contacts with the other.

“No. No. No.” She keeps repeating this as names fly across the tiny screen.

She lowers the phone, looking out over the street encrusted in crystal snow.  Her shoulders slump as if she accepts defeat, but her face still contorts in concentration. Finally, she sighs and raises the phone again. Punching in a number from memory, she takes a deep breath and hits the send button. The phone on the other end begins to ring. She pulls her coat closer around her. The ringing stops to be replaced by the sounds of laughter and loud music.

“Hello?” A questioning voice screams to be heard.

“John?”

“Yeah. Who’s this?”

“Kirsten.”

While the party rages on, no distinct voice comes through.

“Still there?” She asks after only a few seconds.

“Just surprised to hear from you…”

“…especially tonight.” She finishes his sentence and pushes on. “I need your help.”

“You in New York?” Hope infuses every word.

“No, but April is. You remember April?”

“Your crazy friend with the boyfriend no one likes? She’s hard to forget.” He forces a laugh.

“Well, she broke up with him a while back, but she just left me a weird message and won’t answer her phone.”

He sighs. “So what do you want me to do?”

“Could you forgive me long enough to check on her?”

He pauses and she feels a vise closing in on her heart. When he finally speaks, warm tears have begun to course down her cheek.

“Okay, Kir. Where does she live?”

“She sublet my old place.”

“Okay. I better hurry. Call you when I get to her place.”

The sound from the other end of the phone disappears in an instant. Kirsten leans against the wall, pulling on her other glove. Then she wipes away the tears that freeze on her cheeks and waits, willing the tears not to flow again.

Her eyes grow heavy. She dozes despite the cold and the noise pouring from every building on the street. Her eyes flutter open with every passing couple that walks past her. Sometimes they pause to kiss and she looks away, not wanting to be reminded that she left her blind date alone for New Year’s. The phone rings and she fumbles with her glove, tapping the screen emphatically until the call gets picked up.

“John?”

The soft laugh from the other end of the phone reassures her before the voice follows. “Kir, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you call him of all people.”

“But you said…”

“I know what I said. I smashed my phone so I couldn’t take your call. Then I realized I didn’t want to end things that way, but I can’t get a new phone until tomorrow.”

She hears a voice in the background, then April says. “I’ll call you tomorrow. You and John should talk. This is his phone.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, Kirsten. Even if I have to beg the old lady next door to let me use her phone.”

“Okay. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Kir.” John’s voice makes her heart start hammering all over again. “You owe me.”

“I know.”

“So let me take you to dinner the next time you’re in New York. We need to talk.”

He pauses. Fireworks pop on his end.

“It’s New Year’s here, can I trouble you for a kiss?” He asks with a soft laugh.

“Of course.” She blows a loud kiss into the phone.

“You still owe me a dinner.” He says after returning her long distance kiss.

“I know. I have your number.”

“I look forward to your call.”

Kirsten clicks the end call button. Now that she knows April will be around to call her in the morning, weariness sets in. She’ll worry about her promise to John in 2013.

Break My Heart: Part 4

Happy birthday to at least one of my readers. Here is a little more of the adventures of Winnie and clay hearts. I hope you enjoy. Feel free to leave comments right below this very entry!

“I’m disappointed in you, people. I made sure every station has a stylus for a reason. Be creative. Add a little zest to your next piece. Redeem yourselves. Show me your creativity.” As he concluded another impassioned speech, the teacher dropped his hands, which accented every word with a sweeping flourish.

As his voice faded, we all leaned over our work. I experimentally etched a swirl in a piece of clay before kneading the clay between my hands. As I rolled it out, Maribel scooted closer to me, working her own clay with strong hands.

“So did he like it?” She stage whispered.

I shook my head. “He didn’t even see it.”

Clay slapped the counter as she turned her full attention to me. “Oh no. What happened?”

“He broke up with me before we even ordered dinner.”

“You’re kidding?” Her mouth formed a round “O” of consternation.

“Nope.” I looked down at the thin sheet of clay awaiting my creative impressions.

“Did you have dinner together after that?”

“He said his mom was right and it was over. Then he walked out before I could respond.”

“That’s cold. What did you do?”

“I was already there so I ordered dinner.”

“I don’t think I’d be able to have dinner alone at a restaurant, especially not after breaking up with my boyfriend.” She shook her head softly.

“That’s the funny thing. A guy asked to join me for dinner. He got stood up and didn’t want to eat alone.” I felt my lips turn upward.

“So did you let him join you?”

“Of course. He said he’d pay.”  A soft laugh followed the words from my mouth.

“It sounds like you had more fun eating dinner with a stranger than you would have with Janson.” 

Mirabel offered with a suggestive chuckle as she gently etched a pattern in the clay before her.

“I had fun, but...” I sighed.

“You aren’t ready to start a new relationship.”

“That and I just don’t feel attracted to this guy.” Mirabel nodded as I continued. “But we’re going to see a movie this weekend.”

“Oh, really?” The mischievous twinkle returned to her eyes.

“Oh please.” I rolled my eyes and balled up a little scrap of clay to toss at her.

She laughed as it splatted against her counter. As the teacher turned toward us, we resumed shaping clay in earnest.

~~

“There you are.” William peered over the heads of the couples between us.

“Yes. Here I am.” A warm blush crept up my cheeks as I skirted around two of the couples to meet him.

“I’ve got your ticket. Now we just need to get some popcorn. You do like popcorn, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Butter?”

I nodded as a group of teenage boys pushed past us bumping me into William. He reached out a hand to steady me and quickly drew it back.

“What type of candy and soda do you want?” He surveyed the specials on the board.

“Just water. I don’t need candy.”

“Nonsense. What woman doesn’t want candy during a movie?” He elbowed me slightly so I would look up at his face. He wiggled his eyebrows and winked.

I laughed. “Peanut M&Ms then.”

“An excellent choice.”

He relayed our order to girl behind the counter, passing me my drink and the candy as he grabbed the popcorn and his soda. I followed him closely as we walked down a maze of hallways to our theater. 

We found a couple of seats in the middle and sat down.

He smiled as he offered me some popcorn. “I should have asked you this before…”

“Yes?” I asked as he paused.

“You’re not going to talk through the whole movie, are you?”

I snorted. “Only if you do.”

“Good. I love reserving my most meaningful conversations for the movie theater.”

“Me, too. I think the people around me enjoy it.” I winked at him as the lights dimmed and we turned our attention to the previews flashing across the screen.

About halfway through the movie, he leaned over to whisper in my ear. “You really shouldn’t talk so much.”

I shook my head and stifled a laugh. He didn’t lean away. Instead, he bumped his elbow against mine and reached for my hand. As I turned to him in the glow of the movie screen, I could tell he felt what I felt. He released my hand and we leaned away from each other.

When the movie ended, I got up from my seat without looking back to see if he followed.

“Should we talk?” His voice rumbled through my own jumbled thoughts.

My head jerked upward in surprise. “I never meant…”

“I know. I know.” He reassured me. “I figured as much, but I wanted to be sure before I said anything.”

“So where do we go from here?”

“We don’t have to date. Want to try the illusive boy/girl friendship?”

“We could try that.”

“How about grabbing some ice cream, my friend?” He offered me his elbow.

Only Young Once

Clearly, I have cookies on the brain. I hope this entry is up to the high standards of my readers though I did try to give it a more youthful tone.

My mother tells me that I should be young while I can. That I think too deeply for a young girl. I even use words that other kids in my class haven’t learned yet. I just smile when she reminds me of this. I feel just as young as every other girl in my class and more light-hearted than some.

I can make that statement with certainty because I see it every day. One girl in particular has aged far beyond our years. The same gloom surrounds her that surrounds our neighbor Mrs. Cranston when she talks about friends and family that have passed away. Mother says it is sweet of me to visit the lonely, old lady next door. Sometimes, she even helps me bake cookies to share with Mrs. Cranston. Those mood-lifting cookies gave me the idea.

What idea? I want to share the joy of being young with the gloomy girl. If I can disperse the darkness around Lydie for just one day, I think she’ll remember how it feels to be young. I know giving her a full day is probably beyond my skill level, being that I am so young, only ten years old, but a smile should be easy to create.

So I find myself working hard in the hopes of just one smile. Bowls, measuring cups, storage canisters, and plastic bags cluster around my workspace. Flour covers most of the other surfaces of the kitchen. Even my face must be ghostly white judging by the surprised look on my mother’s face.

“Malinda, what…?” She can’t find the words, but I know the question.

“I’m making some cookies for a girl at school.”

“You should have asked.” Stern wrinkles crease her forehead and the corners of her mouth.

“But I wanted to make them myself.” I explain, mixing the thick batter one last time before setting the bowl down on the counter.

My mother surveys the ingredients for a second before she steps forward to dip one finger in the dough. As she brings it to her lips, she pauses. Her eyes scan the ingredients laid out on the table anxiously. Then she opens her mouth and takes a tentative bite of the dough. She closes her eyes, contemplating.

“That’s quite good.” She looks surprised. “Your friend is a lucky girl.”

I beam. “Thank you.”

She smiles. “I guess I can help clean up if you let me have a few cookies.”

I nod agreement, grabbing the cookie scoop and doling out the dough onto baking sheets. The oven dings just as the last glob of dough plops into place.

~

The next morning drags on as I wait for lunch. If I produce the cookies at any other time, the teacher will confiscate them or the other kids will clamor to get one. Anxiety builds in my chest and the depths of my stomach to the point that I know I won’t be able to eat my lunch.

Finally, we line up for lunch. The teacher’s shrewd eyes warn against any funny business as she glances back over her tail of children from time to time. The occasional giggle brings her eyes back to us, but any amusement quickly fades under such scrutiny. She opens the door to the cafeteria, ushering us into its expanse before taking her preferred spot along the wall. She leans against it as she keeps watch over us.

Every child must choose a seat carefully. Where we sit shows a lot about who we are. Usually, I sit with a few select friends, but they don’t notice when I walk past them and take one of the empty seats surrounding Lydie. She looks up startled then looks away.

“You don’t have to sit here.” Her voice cracks as she speaks.

“I want to.” I reassure her, placing my lunch box on the table with finality.

She looks up again as I sit down, questioning me with her eyes. “Why?”

“I made something for you.” I smile reassuringly.

She looks back at me suspiciously. Then her eyes dart around the room. Reassured that no one observes us, she turns her attention to my hands. Suddenly nervous, my hands fumble with the clasp. I breathe a sigh of relief as I finally undo it. Reaching inside, I produce a plastic bag full of cookies.

“No, thank you.” Her brooding frown deepens.

I return her frown, opening the bag. “We can share them.”

As I lift a cookie to my mouth, she watches hungrily. I push the bag across the table to her. She takes a cookie tentatively in between two fingers. Her nose wrinkles at the sweet aroma and she inhales deeply. As she takes the first bite, her eyes close. She sighs softly.

“It’s delicious. Thank you.”

She still hasn’t smiled, but some barrier inside her has melted. She begins to talk. We exchange questions and answers. I almost make her laugh a few times. She succeeds in causing me to giggle on more than one occasion. The cookies disappear slowly as we slide the bag back and forth across the table.

As she lifts the last chocolate chip cookie to her mouth, a smile finally breaks through. “Thanks for being my friend today.”

I smile back at her. “Thanks for letting me.” I pause for a second as emotions well up inside my chest. 

“Can I be your friend again tomorrow?”

She nods her head as tears flow down her cheeks.