Untitled - Short Story

A short story about love lost

“I can’t believe you’re actually going to meet him!” Cassie exclaimed as she held the curling iron in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
           “He’s not gonna wanna kiss me, Cass, if I smell like your damn cigarette!”
           “Oh stop.  You know I’m just so stressed out right now!”
           “You?!? I am the one that’s about to go meet this guy I’ve only talked to on the phone and seen pictures of.  Why the hell does it always have to be about you?”
           Cassie rolled her eyes.  A trademark.  “I’m just worried, that’s all.”  Another drag on her cigarette, but still she hadn’t finished her lecture.  “What if he stands you up like the last guy did?”
           I practically interrupted, “Oh my God! Why do you always have to bring that s****y guy into the conversation?  You dwell on things way too much, Cass.”  I paused.  “Plus, this guy is different.”  I smiled inside if not visibly.
           She got that look.  The one where she wants you to actually believe she’s about to cry.  And the spotlight’s back on her.  “Why are you always yelling at me?  I’m just worried about you like good friends are supposed to be.”
           This time it was me rolling my eyes.  “Nooo, Cass.  That’s my mother’s job!  Your job is to be there for me after I get my heart broken, not before.”  I turned back around to look into the vanity mirror, twisting a lock of hair around my finger, then unraveling it.  It sprung back up into a perfect curl.  “How do I look?”  I puckered my lips in a seductive pose.
           “Trace, you’re crazy.”  My classic puppydog pout.  “Oh stop!  Just go have fun tonight, ok?”
           I hopped up off the chair so fast I almost fell, swinging my arms loosely around Cassie’s shoulders.
           “Hun, save that for someone else,” Cassie chuckled.
           I skipped and hopped my way over to the door and outside to my car, wiggling my a*s a little as I left.  I didn’t have to turn around.  I already knew the trademark eye-rolling I’d receive if I did.
                      *****
           I couldn’t believe I was actually doing this.  I was still sitting in my car outside his house.  Just breathe, Traci.  Just breathe.  I couldn’t let my nerves get the best of me.  I had driven all the way here; I couldn’t turn back now.  I sighed, fluffed my hair one last time, and made my exit out of the safety of my car.
           I made my way up the concrete path to the front door, just concentrating on breathing.  What if I pass out right now?  He’d think I was a dork and surely wouldn’t like me then.  The walkway suddenly seemed forever; then just as quickly, too short.  Before I knew it, I was standing face to face with the door.
           I started to reach for the doorbell, but as I did, the door swung open.  I couldn’t breathe.  Was I in Heaven?  I glanced down but no sign of a cloud.  Just the annoying walkway I had almost passed out on earlier.  Don’t faint, Traci, pleeeease!  Those gorgeous amber eyes burned into mine.  Is he real?  As if in response, he wrapped his arms around my almost bare shoulders, sending chills racing through my entire body.  Could he hear me?  The embrace seemed to last forever, and yet not long enough.  I wanted to be in his arms for always.  And suddenly I was no longer tense.
           “Hi, Princess.  You look beautiful.”  He interrupted my thoughts with the single most wonderful phrase I had ever witnessed.  He leaned down and caressed my cheek with his lips.  I was in Heaven.
           “Thank you.”  I don’t know how I managed to get those words out, but I did.  He held the door open for me.  An absolute gentleman.  I love him already.  I paused, then followed him through the entryway and into the living room.
          *****
           Hours of conversation had passed and still only a small fraction of what needed to be said had been.  This guy was absolutely amazing.  Was there anything not perfect about him?  I was still waiting, but doubtful.  I cuddled up next to him a bit closer.  Heaven.  His arm draped over my shoulders to save them from the brisk wind that blew across the beach.  Typical of an October night.  It had to be close to eleven by now.  We’ve been here a while.  We were in the almost exact spot we had been for at least four hours.  We had witnessed the setting sun cast diamonds across the water that sparkled back at us.  Hughes of pink and orange were painted across the sky.  The colors had long since faded into the dark abyss that now twinkled with the sequins of Heaven.  There was no need to make my wish tonight.  I couldn’t think of anything else I could possibly wish for.  Tonight I had everything I could ever dream of.  Was Heaven this good?  I smiled.
          *****
           I felt like I was floating over clouds as he carried me across the bedroom and lay me softly amongst the pillows on the bed.  A smile spread across my face.  Had it ever left since I first saw him?  The only thing missing was rose petals.  And maybe…
           He lit one candle after the next.  No, just rose petals.
           His body laid itself across me, his clothes brushing against mine.  The darkness didn’t matter; his lips found mine.  His fingers played with my hair.  Mine clutched his bare back, pulling him closer against me.  Our skin was now the only thing touching.  His fingertips tickled down my neck, his lips following.  Hot.  He continued to kiss his way down my neck to my breasts.  Hotter.  Still descending down my body, caressing my stomach.  Then back up again to meet my lips.  We paused, staring lovingly at each other.  No words could have described the feelings our eyes could.  I want you.
           His cross dangled in front of me.  An Angel.  The passion seared through us.  So hot.  He kissed me.  Caressed me.  Held me.  One last thrust and at last our bodies shook as they held each other.  Tangled in each other.  Oh my God.
           I was too relaxed to move at first.  Then I cuddled up next to him.  I glanced up at him one last time before the night was over.  Again, our eyes spoke everything we needed to say.  I love you.  I shut my eyes.  He whispered so softly it was barely audible.  But I heard it clearly.  “I love you, Princess.”  He fell silent, waiting.  No response.
          *****
           I have never felt anything else quite that amazing in all the years that have since passed.  I never talked to or saw him since that night.  Of course he called me.  Too many times.  So many, in fact, that I almost gave in and picked up the phone.  But I didn’t.  I couldn’t.
           I now reside in my adorable two-story house with my perfect husband and three wonderful children.  In addition to teaching, I also write.  My husband is a lawyer.  Dad’s happy.  Cassie lives next door with her family.  But still, my feelings hold true.  That night surpasses every other aspect in my life.  Even if I died right now and made it to the golden gates, I don’t believe I’d feel as content as I did then.
          *****
           I meet up with him now.  By chance?  I’m playing in the park with my children and I see him.  My heart stops.  I can’t breathe.  Luckily my husband is working.  Like always.  I run to him.
           “How…?”  My voice trails off as my forehead finds his shoulder while his arms wrap around my waist.  I look up.  Those amber eyes!  I open my mouth but nothing escapes.
          *****
           We’re sitting on a bench.  Talking.  He’s mainly talking; I’m sobbing like a baby.  Cassie and her kids are entertaining mine.  Thank you.
           I’ve hurt him and he still loves me.  He asks me about the unreturned phone calls.  Why?  And I never told him I loved him that night.  Hadn’t I?  Still, his voice is kind and warm; not even a hint of anger exists.
           He knows about my life.  Magazines and talk shows have sent him the letter I never dared to write.  How can I be so unsatisfied?  My life is perfect, isn’t it?
           “I love you.”  I mean it.  I always have.
           “Why has it taken so long to tell me?  Do you really mean it?”
           “Yes.”  I’m bawling my eyes out.  “I was too scared to tell you before.  Too afraid of falling for you.  I didn’t wanna get attached.”
           He held me.  An instant comfort.
           I looked up at him again.  We both knew what I was thinking.
           “What if…..?”  He stopped me.  I didn’t have to finish.  I missed my chance to tell him.  Why?
           He hugged me.  “I just had to see you one last time.”  Then he stood up and I followed.  He kissed me on the cheek.  “Goodbye, Princess.”
           He left.  I didn’t dare stop him.  It’s too late.  I didn’t even say goodbye.  What could I say?  Where could I begin?
           Tears still trickled down my cheeks.  I couldn’t move.  Was I in shock?  Had this all just been a dream?
           “Mommy, look at me!”  My youngest.  Reality sets in.
           “Wow, good job!”  I wiped the last tears from my eyes and ran over to her to praise her as she stood on top of the balance beam in the middle of the playground.  Back to my role as a mommy.  Soon I would go back to the house where I’d also resume my role as a good wife.  My daughter jumped down and hugged me.  I whispered to her, but loud enough for her to hear the words never too early or often to say.  “I love you.”

Author's Note

I wrote this on October 6, 2004 for Tom.

Reviews

[Chopstix]

I found this story through the new Discover feature. I surfed through six or seven stories before choosing to read this one. The opening paragraphs read better than most.

I like this stories arch, at least when looked at from a grand view. It starts with Traci’s near perfect date and follows through Traci’s life until she re-encounters her date much later in life. Youthful actions meet their adult consequences. It’s a good formula.

Warning:
The rest of this review will be critical, in this case, very critical. If you do not want to read any criticism. Stop reading. Delete this review or flag it for removal. It is not my intent to harm, but to point out areas which will improve this story from a readers perspective. Still, many authors project themselves into their work and take criticism personally. I recommend engaging in the critical conversation, but doing so is not for everybody.
End Warning.

The story is told in sections and uses section indicators to assist readers. Each section indicator represents some sort of time gap. Given that this is a short story, that’s the way to go. For me, however, there are several other gaps. Although I like the over all story arch, I feel it needs more support to keep from collapsing leaving me disappointed.

Perhaps the biggest gap is Traci’s motivation going into her date. Without disclosure, readers assume normal courtship. Cassie brings up Traci’s last romantic encounter which left Traci heart broken. For Traci, the date goes well, but at its end, she betrays her feelings and her date’s trust (this is the youthful action which returns with consequences). Near the end of the story, we learn, “(she) didn’t wanna get attached.” Yeah, Right. Why didn’t we know this ahead of the date? Was “amber eyes” intended as fling which only lasted one night? It doesn’t make sense, and for me, the story, already on shaky grounds, fell apart.

Reconstructing the story from this revelation I ended up with something like: Traci, a teen age perhaps college age woman, seeks validation after rejection from several boys. She’s average looking compared to her better looking friend, Cassie, and has some major insecurities. She subscribed to an internet dating site where she encountered (or perhaps hired) “amber eyes” (Jeez, name your characters so it will be easier to discuss them. Or perhaps not, since Traci is only seeking validation, she really isn’t looking at “amber eyes” as a real human being) for a “sure thing.” She already arranged for him to call her “Princess” which is revealed in her line, “Plus, this guy is different.” Traci gets a little more than she bargained for. Her gigolo, “amber eyes,” and her have a lot to talk about; they make a real connection, or so it seems, even though this is a forced encounter. He even says he loves her just as she instructed him to. The rented beach house lives up to its advertisement and fosters a real, if rented, romance. Traci falls for her gigolo, but catches her fall. Was it real or just a manufactured moment? Over the years, cognitive dissonance settles in, Traci chooses to believe it is real despite the receipts hidden in shoe box in the basement. Her “perfect moment,” her recovery from all those rejections, keeps her life a little off balance and provides plenty of grist for creative writing. It is the moment she uses to define her life. Years later, she meets him again. He’s read her stories and surmises she’s really writing him into all her male leads. As established adults, they discuss their perfect moment, how it was more than a paid for fantasy. Traci finally reveals that, at that time, she really fell in love with “amber eyes” and that love never really faded. He reconfirms that the moment was real even if it was just another gig.

Wow, the above paragraph was a lot of work and it wasn’t the story on the page, but it’s what happens when writers leave out critical details. Readers always fill in details, which is cool. Writers create fictional worlds which never achieve the real world’s detail richness. Writers must, however, important details. If a room’s wall color doesn’t matter, leave it out. If it masks murder traces, make it blood red. Most readers make walls some shade of white or beige. No matter. Some will imagine them purple. Oh well, it doesn’t really matter. In this story, I never got a good feel for Traci’s character, so, initially I thought of her as a teen-age or early twenties woman still figuring out her place in life. After her, “I wasn’t looking for an attachment” line, my mind created the character in the paragraph above. Better writing would give more character clues so readers reinvention of Traci will not stray radically away. In this story, she’s a mostly blank slate provided to hit one or two interesting plot points. The lack of character revelation is, for me, a gap which collapses the story arch.

A few notes:

First section:
When browsing through the Discover feature, I liked the first few paragraphs, but since Cassie is introduced first. I thought I was going to read a story about a sassy, cigarette smoking hair dresser. Story openings should introduce the protagonist and his/her main conflict. This introduction does neither and should be reworked. After reading this section, I felt I knew Cassie more than Traci.

Second section:
I understand that Traci is emotionally unstable heading into her encounter, I don’t understand why.

“Amber eyes”’s “Hi, Princess” line reads unnatural. Roberto Begigni used that line in Life is Beautiful to an endearing, comic effect. I don’t feel “amber eyes” pulls it off well. It needs more set up. Perhaps Princess or maybe Princess_1936 is Traci’s handle on a dating website. Then again, why Princess?


Third Section:
Establishing setting can often be critical. It can be used for foreshadowing. In the second section, you let us know about the concrete walkway to “amber eyes” house which doesn’t seem like an important detail. In this section, action goes from house to beach to house. Without any transitions, I can only assume that this is a beach house.

Fourth Section (the sex scene?):
Again missing transitions.

“His body laid itself across me, his clothes brushing against mine. The darkness didn’t matter; his lips found mine. His fingers played with my hair. Mine clutched his bare back, pulling him closer against me. Our skin was now the only thing touching.”

First sentence, “clothes brushing.” Some action not involving clothes then miraculously “our skin was now the only thing touching.” In a prior paragraph, “amber eyes” lit some candles which calls “the darkness didn’t matter.”

This is what a call a virgin sex scene, not for a lack of detail (not all sex scenes need pornographic description and this scene has lips on breasts and “one last thrust”), but for a lack of imagination. Clothes do not dissolve when kissing intensifies. They often get in the way. First time sex is often awkward as partners learn each other’s bodies. Miscue’s, manners, negotiation, compromise and accommodations mark such encounters and make them interesting. It’s hard to explain these fantastical passages. They read false, as if the author lacks actual experience, hence the “virgin sex scene” appellation. Authors should keep their sex lives off page, but when they write about these encounters, then should write from character and allow character faults to influence the sequence of events. I just watched a Korean rom-com where the female protagonist has a capsaicin allergy, an anomaly which shaped her life . The male protagonist partakes in spicy Korean cuisine. When they finally fall for each other and kiss, she goes into anaphylactic shock. He makes matters worse by trying to give her CPR. The Lorean rom-com is an extreme example of backstory influencing sex scene’s, but it is also a good example. It was well set up and paid off well.

Fifth section.

Just as virgin sex scenes read untrue, describing lives as perfect also shows a lack of imagination. Each character defines perfection differently. At best, perfection means making fortuitous compromises based on initial ambitions.

The worst part of trying to describe life as “perfect” is that perfect is boring. Good stories introduce some sort of conflict which resolves itself by the end. The closest this section gets is that the virgin sex scene produces fonder memories than life with a perfect husband in a perfect home with three perfect children and her best friend living next door to babysit her children whenever she needs to actually do something. Snooze, or maybe like Cassie, an eye-roll is appropriate.

Sixth section: Not much here so let’s skip it.

Seventh section:

Despite all prior flaws, this section reads pretty well. I prefer actual dialog to described dialog. Eventually spoken words flow and the story concludes.

Style note: One thing grabbed me while reading in discover mode. The first line is followed by a sentence containing both a speech tag and a beat (action description following dialog). Using both over stuffs sentences. Generally beats are preferable to speech tags. Physical proximity associates the actor to preceding dialog.

Overall: This story reads untrue. It should be written from character, not plot. There is too little character development to carry this interesting story arch. It would have been better, for example, for Traci and Cassie to discuss her intentions rather than friendship role boundries.

Best of luck with your writing.

[EvaMackenzie]

Thank you so much for your very thorough critique. In retrospect, I definitely see where the characters' personalities are underdeveloped. The character Cassie was inspired by two of my friends at the time, and the main character was someone I knew too well. By knowing the characters personally, I do feel as if I left out important things that I felt were "given" because I knew them. However, my readers do not. Thank you again for all of your thought-provoking words of wisdom. I will surely take them into consideration when writing my next piece.