Leave Me

Piece for m creative writing class.

 

I carefully opened and shut the front door of my house, stepping into the crisp November air. I walked slowly down the road in silence and darkness. The sun had not yet waken, and wouldn’t for some time. The time was 4:23 A.M. on a Tuesday morning. I had been disturbed by a nightmare, quite frequent in recent days. When I reached the park bench at the end of the street, I sat down with a defeated thump. Beyond exhausted, I wanted nothing more than to sleep soundly for just one night. I took out my pack and lit a cigarette; a habit no doubt I could attribute to him. Lost in my thoughts I began to reminisce about what had once been my life.

            The first day of my new internship was one of the most petrifying experiences. I stepped into a building straight off Broadway and was immediately surrounded by men and women dressed in suits; I felt underdressed even though I was in my nicest clothes. I knew I didn’t belong there, and the only reason I was even looked at was because of my uncle. For the internship orientation I had expected to walk into a room filled with people just like me, busting at the seams for an opportunity like this, but the only person sitting in the waiting room was me.

            “Cecelia Bowen, we’re ready for you.” His words startled me, his appearance even more. It was difficult for me to fathom how a young girl from the Bronx, who liked gangsters and hard-talkers not little preppy boys, could possibly be dumbfounded by a wealthy, middle aged man in a suit.

            I extended my hand and tried to keep it from shaking. “Nice to meet you sir.”

            “Ron Hearter, please come into my office and we’ll get started.” The room we stepped into was tidy, well decorated, and had the most wonderful view; obviously not his work, maybe a wife or secretary.

            “I’ll start by telling you all about what we do here, and what you’ll be involved in this summer and after that if you have any questions I’ll be happy to answer them.”

            “Thank you sir, for this amazing opportunity,” I smiled.

            “Call me Ron please.”

I didn’t know it then, but that was the first day of a life-changing eleven months I could have never anticipated.

            That summer internship was the best thing to ever happen to me. Not only was it the path to my future, but this job was where I found him, Ron, the man who started out as my boss, and eventually became my love interest. As always, everything started out innocent. First working late nights to make deadlines, then dinners to discuss story topics, and eventually there was no denying the chemistry.

            It was a Friday, just about three weeks after my internship had started, and I was out with Ron. We had been out to dinner every night that week, but Friday was different; we had no work to do.

            “Where are you from?” He asked casually.

            “Well I live in the Bronx.”

            “No I mean originally, I know that funny accent isn’t from living in New York.” I laughed. He could always make me laugh.

            “Wyoming, me my mom and my sister moved out here about two years ago.”

            He looked at me with an odd facial expression.

             “You have beautiful eyes.” He’d always give the most random compliments especially when it was least expected.

            We sat at our table for quite some time; even after the bill had been brought and there were only two other couples left in the entire restaurant. I didn’t mind. He bought me drink after drink; the conversation was good and I wasn’t too fond of being at home lately.

            “Maybe we should go,” Ron said. “My wife will get angry if I’m not home soon.

            He walked me home that night, seeing as I was a little tipsy; one too many martinis maybe. When we reached the front steps of my apartment complex I stuck out my hand. He looked down at it, and then looked back up; quickly without warning            he pulled my face to his and gave me the most passionate kiss I could have ever imagined. From that day on, every time I saw him my knees went weak; the one and only person to ever have that effect on me.

            At the tender age of 17, one is very impressionable. I first hated the idea of seeing a married man, but as time went on he had me convinced I was doing no wrong. In a sense I suppose he was right, but my morals and family upbringing contradicted that. Never the less, I was swept of my feet by a man 20 years my senior with a wife and two children. I never thought twice about them. I was selfish; I was somehow the home-wrecking w***e I’d always heard about, but never imagined I’d become.

            But we were in love, up until the day that Ron died at the hands of his wife’s rage; though he never left her I knew he wished he had. Suddenly all those times I had begged him to leave, surrounded me. If only I had kept my mouth shut, then she would have never found out, then we could have kept our relationship, then he would have never died, but I guess it’s only fair. The love of her life was going to leave her, so she had to rip mine away from me.

             I remember one of many conversations on the subject, this one stuck out the most. It was four days before he died, and he finally gave into my pleas.

            “It’s time,” I said.

            “No, no it’s not, Cecelia.”

            “How long should I have to wait, it’s all ready been eleven months!”

            “Just give me time, within the week I promise I’ll tell her.” This answer satisfied me, but if only I’d known. Ron was right, that was most definitely not the time, and once again because of my selfishness someone got hurt.

            She called me that night, April 15^th 2006, screaming obsinities at me, sobbing harshly on the phone. I won’t go in to all the details, but she told me what she’d done, how she’d done it, and when she was coming after me to do the same. Sometimes I wish I had died along with him, and I still think that maybe one day she’ll come back for revenge. It’s a long way off, I know, 25 years isn’t exactly around the corner. I can wait.

            I wouldn’t expect anyone to comprehend, much less sympathize with me; I’d given up on that long ago when my own parents told me I was going to hell. I’ve come to realize though, that no matter what everyone else thinks, I did not wreck their relationship. Mr. and Mrs. Hearter’s marriage was finished long before I came into the picture.  

            I checked the time on my phone. It flashed 5:57 A.M.; time flies when you’re grieving. The sun was beginning to rise over the houses in the distance. This was beauty at its finest, and I had the pleasure of witnessing nature take its course.

            My phone beeped. I opened a text message; “Cecelia I miss you”. I stared at the words for what seemed like an eternity. I then looked up at the sky, as the sun had just broken through the clouds, and smiled. A restricted number had been sending me messages like that for around a month now. I didn’t know who they were from or why they were being sent to me, but they made me feel better. I know it’s crazy to even think but right now, to me, anything seems possible. And with that I took out another cigarette to silence the cravings of my body. I took a drag, inhaling it all and exhaling the bad.

Author's Note

Thoughts?

Reviews

[Athena Manolopoulos]

Very nice =] It kept me interested and a lot of details were fit into a short story, but nothing felt left out or rushed. I can image this would make a great novel if everything was dragged out and written about in detail.