Incomplete Fiction

And there she sat, alone in her Toyota. She watched the front door kick open and two happy people spill out onto the porch. Not any two people, but the two people she chalked up to ruining her life. On one side was this beautiful raven haired woman with the most piercing blue eyes she had ever seen and next to her stood this stupid bitch who did nothing wrong… Except end the sexual whirlwind she had been on for the past six months.

Mona had been married. To a man. It was the most beautiful wedding that even she could envision. Gorgeous bouquets even more gorgeous bridesmaids and her… A stunningly beautiful bride. A long white dress with a veil that only slightly obscured her deep chocolate brown eyes. As she held her new husband’s hand in the dance floor of the reception she should have known she was making the worst decision of her life when she couldn’t keep her wandering eye off the bartender.

Immediately following the first dance she disappeared for what seemed like an eternity to “freshen up,” or so she told people… But instead of freshening up she was actually very much getting down with the blue eyed beauty from behind the bar. Chelsea. Even her name rolled sweetly off Mona’s tongue as she panted it in the supply room of the reception hall.

Something about Chelsea called to her. The eyes. The dimples. The hair pulled up exposed her thin, gorgeous neck. It started with a simple hello… But that hello led to hundreds of kisses and just as many encounters. Six months they fucked in private. She snuck away from her often traveling husband and into the arms of this woman. This person. The only person that she ever met that could so fully satisfy her sexually and emotionally.

The first time, in the supply closet was everything she had pictured her wedding night sex to be except it wasn’t with the groom. She leaned against a stack of boxes, grinding into Chelsea’s firm body. Kissing her soft, sweet lips and sucking ever so gently on her neck. It wasn’t til Chelsea took the lead that Mona felt the surge of ecstasy shooting through her body.

With one expertly executed move, Chelsea’s hand was under Mona’s dress. With both authority and passion, she gripped inside Mona’s thigh, her bright eyes piercing into Mona. The look itself was the look of someone who knew what they were doing and wanted to show someone the way. Seconds later, Chelsea plunged her fingers deep inside Mona, causing her to cry out in a fit of passion she had never experienced this far in her life. She braced herself as Chelsea continued to fuck her, kissing her with equal fervor.

When it was over, Mona knew she had to tell her husband. She had to come clean that she had been unfaithful. As she walked back into the reception hall, her dress, hair and emotions all slightly askew, she knew she couldn’t tell him. Not then, not there, not like this. With a deep sigh, Mona brushed the hair off her face and smiled as her overbearing mother came rushing over. With her still-thick Russian accent, she pored over her only child. Where had she been? Why was she so flushed? Did she see what her father’s girlfriend was wearing, that hussy.

Mona’s head was spinning from the inside out. She could feel herself falling to the floor but couldn’t stop. She hit the ground with a solid thud and everyone ran to her side. What had happened. That must explain why she was so flushed, they say amongst themselves as she slowly comes to. As she regains consciousness she hopes she will be met with the same blue eyes that had put her into this frenzy but instead her eyes lock with a sympathetic pair of family brown eyes. Her husband. Her sweetheart. Her supposed one true love. She grimaced. Not from the pain but from the reality of her actions. She had ruined not only her life but his as well.

Mona started to sob, deep guttural sobs. Tears streamed down her face, smearing and ruining her perfect make up. It was the perfect poem to a heart breaking.

Thinking she could just be okay with her husband, Mona went on her honeymoon and had the same bored, predictable sex she had come to expect and dread from her husband. He was a good man and a good love, but something wasn’t there for her. Something fulfilling lacked every time he kissed her. She tolerated him, trying not to become too put off by him. He had done nothing wrong. It was her whose eye has wandered. Her who luster for someone else. Her who had fucked up her perfect little life by fucking some bartender.

When her cell phone dinged three days into her honeymoon she could all but stifle a smile when she saw it was Chelsea who had messaged her. When will you be back? I need to see you again. I want you. Oh how I want you. Mona could feel her heart racing and her body weakening. She couldn’t control this feeling. She didn’t want to.

The honeymoon ended and life returned to normal. Or, more precisely, anything but. Mona’s husband went off on a work trip and she immediately phoned Chelsea who was more than willing to come over and attend to Mona’s needs.

They fucked for hours and all over the loft that Mona and her husband had bought with help from Mona’s parents. They had finally approved of one. Of her lovers. He was a stand up guy with a heart and a conscience. He had a great job and loved Mona indiscriminately. He was, in all senses of the word, the perfect man. But it wasn’t a man she wanted. Not now, not ever again. She had been to the puppet show and seen the strings. She had seen what else was out there and was insatiable.

Mona ushered Chelsea out the door in the nick of time. Her husband was due back any moment. But even with her out of site, Chelsea was hardly out of Mona’s mind, her husband could tell. The distant look in her eye, the constant checking of her phone. She was in another world in her head and in his arms.

After several months, Mona finally came clean. Her husband expected as much. He just had no idea it was with another woman. A woman, under any other circumstance, he would have found attractive. When he saw a picture of the offender, to him her eyes were icy, her hair was dark and devilish. Everything that Mona longed for in Chelsea her husband cringed at. He tried, with all his power not to cry. All he could do, though, was wait for Mona to leave the room before he broke down. He threw a framed picture of them across the room and it shattered on the mantel. Pieces cracked and fell down to the floor where his heart lay, exposed and bare. Broken.

Even after wronging the absolute love of her life, Mona couldn’t stay away from Chelsea. She sought solace between Chelsea’s legs and was turned out nightly by her captivating beauty and prowess in bed.

They continued this way for months. Mona never even took a moment to mourn the end of her marriage. The end of the white picket fence, the end of being accepted by her parents, her friends and even society. All she could think about was fucking Chelsea… Until that fateful day when Chelsea’s wife walked back into their lives.

Chelsea dumped Mona so fast her head spun. What had happened? Hadn’t they been happy? She left her husband for Chelsea… Now here they were together on Chelsea’s front porch. Mona watched from the car as Chelsea and her wife walked hand in hand down the stairs, stopping only briefly to kiss. Mona’s stomach turned as the tears welled up in her eyes. Fuck her. Fuck that bitch, she thought. Chelsea wasn’t beautiful, neither inside nor out. Her eyes were a faded blue and her hair was limp. But even when she tried t tell herself that, seeing Chelsea from across the street brought back all those feelings, everything she wanted to hate… She couldn’t.

Mona gripped the steering wheel hard. Her knuckles whitened. As she flipped on the radio, smooth jazz poured through the speakers. She rocked slowly, and just ever so slightly to the beat. Her eyes daring between the interior of her Corolla and the women across the street. They kissed again as they got in the car. Chelsea, always chivalrous, helped her wife with her door before getting in. She turned on the engine and maneuvered out of the driveway.

White knuckled with fury tearing through her eyes, Mona slammed on the gas and barreled her car towards them. Fuck these happy bitches and their happily ever after. She went flying across the street but lost control of her car. It spun wildly before coming to rest in the brick wall in their front yard.

The air bag blew with a bang and a hiss. Mona’s face slammed into it full force, knocking the wind from her. She could feel nothing but pain shooting through her body as the numbness set in. Her breathing was shallow and her eyes were closing. All she could see we’re those beautiful blue eyes staring down at her as she lay dying. I love you, she wanted to say. I love you.

Someone

This is not a love letter. This is a wish. A wish for happiness, contentment and my own fulfillment.

I sit here by the fire and wish there was someone to spend the time with. Someone to sit by the fake fire and feel real feelings. Real closeness. Real energy. Realness.

I am tired of hiding behind the facade that it doesn’t faze me that love hasn’t found me but its the face I am most familiar with. I just want to find someone who cares to get to know even the darkest corners of me. Someone who knows who I am and why I do what I do. Why I act the way I act. Someone to pull me off the edge of misery when I feel like I have nothing to offer.

I want someone. Not just anyone. Someone who is willing to invest time in me. Someone who knows it won’t come easy and it will be a fight… But nonetheless a fight worth fighting.

I have a lot to offer. I listen. I care. I relate. I will remember little facts you gloss over or something you mention offhandedly. I care enough to listen to not just the words you’re saying but what the really mean to you. I brush it off for whatever reason, but I really do invest a lot of myself in the people I truly care about.

Firstly, there is my BFF. Everyone knows Kmoy. Even people who don’t know her personally, people know who she is because she is the bestest of friends there ever was. If there ever was someone perpetually in my corner, it is her. I thank my lucky stars I sat behind her, alphabetically, in art class in ninth grade. It has been over ten years – over fifteen even – we have been friends and we talk on a daily basis. I need someone in my life that I know is right there, has my back just like my BFF.

Love is one of those confounding things that no one really has the answer for or the best tricks and tips to succeed. It’s a crapshoot. It’s a series of hits and misses until you find someone that completes you. Someone that understands in a glance that something is wrong. Someone who can say with their eyes they are not okay and you know how to fix that with a word, a gesture a simple touch.

We all have people in our lives we feel things for and we know its not always the bed scenarios. Everyone knows I get attached and connect myself to feelings I may not even have with the exact wrong people in the world… But I think it’s about time someone rolls along that listens and actually cares. Someone who will come out for me even if its inconvenient because they know I’m hurting. Someone who is willing to go that extra mile, or two, to show they love me enough to do so.

I’m not asking for roses or a grand gesture, but I want a girl who will relate to me. I’m a beer drinking, television loving, easy going girl. I want someone who will make an effort to relate to me. Drink my beer. Watch a show I like. Try something I recommend…. Knowing full well I would do the same for her. A girl who will look me in the eyes as if she’s looking through me. Into me. Into my heart and smiling a simple smile that I know she’s actually present and with me. Not someone whose mind is off while we hang out, not giving a shit what I have to say.

A lot can be said about that long extended look into someone’s eyes. It can be unnerving. It can be off-putting. It can be the sexiest thing ever, as well. Looking at someone, trying to steal a glance and seeing they are already looking at you. It sends a shiver of happiness to the core.

I tell a lot of people a lot of things but the are few people I tell everything to. I want someone in my life I can share everything with. Someone who knows my secrets and loves me anyway. Someone who will see pas the flaws to this glued together soul that I am.

I’m pretty awesome. Delightful. Smart. Charming. One day someone will see all that. Someone who will see. Am the real deal. A full package. They will take me and unwrap me. We will melt together. Synchronized. That’s what I want. Love. Real, true, unbiased sweet love. It may not be fireworks, but sometimes a real fire takes a lot of kindling to burn into greatness.

An Open Letter to Love

Dear You,

So here we are again. This looks like a familiar place I have been before. You didn’t do it to me this time, I did it to myself. I got my hopes up and thought maybe just this once I could get what I want. Not what I want, what I deserve. Or, at the very least, what I think I deserve.

When we met things seemed to go well. Conversation flowed liked water in the Niagra. Minutes turned to hours, turned to being out so late on a school night, but what a night it was. We had so much in common. Everything. It seemed so ideal, but what happened? Maybe it was you. Maybe it was me. Maybe it was both of us. It wasn’t meant to be, but for an instant it seemed like it could go on forever.

It continued for awhile, stagnant but steady and I had hopes and feelings. There was something I couldn’t put my fingers on. Something that stirred in me. I felt for you what I hadn’t felt for anyone before. So stupid of me to think it would actually come to fruition. This beautiful thing in front of me, as if the feelings would ever be reciprocated.

We went back and forth almost like a game. Leading me on, but never actually giving me any hope. It all went to my head, this hopeless hope and wishful wish that you wanted me as much as I did you. A kiss. A hug. To feel you against me I longed for every time we were together, but I never knew if you felt the same. I wasted all this time. I soiled all this energy. I poured it into the abyss of my heart. I wanted to scream to you what I felt, but it came out more as a whisper inside my own head. I couldn’t tell you what I felt and that is what makes it so sad.

Chances are nothing would have ever come of it but the what ifs haunt me. What ifI had stepped it up. What if I wanted to show you my affections in all the ways I wish I could. What if I was able to tell you how beautiful I thought you were. Right to your face. Not like a coward.

I don’t deserve you. You deserve someone who will tell you a thousand times over, without hesitation, how beautiful you are. Someone who will take your sweet face in their hands and hold it gently, kissing you… Softly at first but then when more aggression. The boiling passion from beneath the surface. You deserve someone who treats you right and doesn’t second guess every instance or hesitate at every moment. Someone who loves themself as much as they adore you.

You’re special. That’s all there is to it, and so am I. One day I’ll see in myself the greatness I ever so briefly knew was possible to feel when we were together. Together… It’s almost a joke. There was never a period of togetherness. But now you can have everything you deserve and leave me behind. I don’t deserve you. No part of you. To me you are amazing. You are perfect. Beautiful and kind and sweet and wonderful. No wonder it was one sided. Why would you want someone like me, so incapable of self love I could never, for a moment, express any true feelings.

Now you’re gone and here I remain. At the crossroads of another failure and an imminent disappointment. You never did anything wrong and that is why I can’t hate you. You listened. You cared. But why? Why, god dammit. Why can’t I have you? What can I do besides move on.

I fear not being able to feel. Not being able to love… Myself or others. It’s been an uphill road all myself to love myself but every day I can only wake up to the reasons that make me miserable. My failings. My shortcomings. My heart is full of so much love to give but I guard it. I want to give it to someone. Show someone I am capable of all the affections and love I feel for them.

But I’m afraid. Afraid what will happen to expose everything that’s inside me. Every dagger that has pierced my broken heart laid bare for someone to see. Would they stay? Would they hold me and love me and tell me it would be okay. Right now, I don’t think so. But banking on someone else is a sure sign for failure.

So I need to take time for myself. To love myself. While I missed my chance with you, I knew it was never there. But my heart still tingles and my feelings still get wishy washy… And I hate it. I wish you happiness, I do. Even though right now I can’t say it and think I don’t mean it, but I do. A damaged soul like me would hold you back. I need to heal. I need to be loved. By me. Not you. You never will.

Sincerely,
Me

I Recall That Evening Together

That evening started like most evenings, in the bar. I was sitting in my usual spot, comfortable with the predictability and familiarity of things unchanged. If I hadn’t known better I would have thought I had made a groove in the seat perfectly formed around my ass. But I knew that wasn’t the case. The stools were new and I tended to shift a lot in my seat. Perpetual discomfort, I self diagnosed. Some might say I was a hypochondriac with all my quack diagnoses, but my research wasn’t entirely unfounded.

Shifty ass aside, I sat there at the bar, my eyes perpetually following the dreamy bartender as she moved swiftly from one customer to the next. She leaned casually over the bar in front of her, gently swaying her hips as she spoke. Her firm ass was perky and almost taunting me with it’s perfection. I hadn’t realized I was staring until my eyes refocused and she was no longer in my line of sight. I blinked slowly and took a long swig of Coors Light. I could feel a sigh welling up in my chest, so I let it emerge heavily.

“That’s a heavy sigh for a Tuesday,” a friendly voice almost cooed. Immediately I was snapped back into the present. I looked to my right and there she was, this beautiful girl. She was perched on the stool with impeccible posture. Her manicured hand loosely gripping a bottle of, as luck would have it, Coors Light.

I nodded, in a polite response and mustered a simple, “Yeah.” I wasn’t good with strangers or words. I kept my gaze on her for a second longer then busied myself staring at my beer bottle. I picked nervously at the label. Between nervous darting glances I could see she was still looking in my direction. Not one with any social graces I tried to concoct a way to avoid continuing the interaction.

I shifted in my seat and looked back to the bar. “Do you come here often?” she asked, and I had to smile because it was a phrase I through around as a joke but she was asking it honestly. Politely.

I nodded into my beer and looked back her way, “Yeah,” I said simply, “Do you?”

“This is my second time,” she responded taking a careful sip of her beer. “I think I saw you here last time I was here. In that seat, as a matter of fact.”

I twisted my beer bottle around on the bar, a nervous habit. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes,” she smiled, moving a stool closer. I could feel my nerves kick in and m muscles tighten. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

I forced a smile and looked back in her direction, now that she was closer I could see deep into her piercing blue eyes. Vivid and bright like a tropical destination. It was as if they sparkled in the low bar light. She smiled an imperfectly perfect smile and leaned her elbow on the bar. “I do… Usually,” I offered. “Sometimes…”

“Really?” she gently challenged.

“Yep,” I responded, absolutely sure of my lie.

“Oh yeah?” she leaned closer. I could see the curve of her breasts in her tank top now. They were small but nice. I blinked up to her face, that beautiful face. Why was she talking to me?

“Yes,” I stated, infinitely less sure than I was a moment ago. She reached out her hand and touched my forearm, the tenderness shot through me like electricity.

“Loosen up, girl,” she squeezed my hand tighter. She released my hand and picked up her bottle, she tossed back the last swig. “Can I get you another?”

I nodded, my guard was coming down ever so slightly. She leaned forward to flag down the bartender. I could smell her shampoo, sweet and fruity as she gestured for our beers. She turned back to me and locked her eyes on mine. Her face was no more than a few inches from mine. I could see her game. She was trying to scare the conversation out of me… Well it was working. I was enchanted by her.