My
story didn’t start with vomiting, but it did begin with a good gut wrench…
The
low sun flamed from the sky even though the time was edging toward nine-thirty
at night. I squinted into the glowing horizon and my heart squeezed. I held
back the tears.
“Just
ten months,” Greg whispered to me. “It’s not so long.”
“Only
forever,” I answered. I hadn’t let go of his arm for the past thirty minutes.
He
shifted his weight and settled onto the park bench. “We need to talk.”
“We
are talking.” I joined him, stretched my legs, and dipped the toes of my shoes
into the loose gravel at my feet.
His
face had gone serious, and I knew I wasn’t going to like what he had to say. He
gazed over my shoulder toward the playground equipment as if observing
interesting twists of fine sculpture.
I
still held his arm, but now I released my death grip. My fingers remained bent,
stuck in a clutched position. “What is it?”
“I
think we should see other people.” His words dropped like bricks, gaining speed
as they crashed on my ears.
My
mouth fell open and I jolted to my feet, tripping over a stone which protruded
from the loose rock circling the bench. I skittered a bit, and regained my
balance. “See other people? What do you mean?”
“Sit
back down.” Greg pulled on my arm and coaxed me onto the bench again.
“California’s a long way from here, and I think it’d be a good idea to keep our
options open.”
I
sat like a wooden toy, stiff and unmoving. I knew I was staring at him, I knew
my face was revealing too much, and I knew I wanted to deck him.
“I
take it you’ve given this a lot of thought.” My voice sounded so pinched, I
hardly recognized it.
“Not
a lot. Some, though.” Was it my imagination or did he look like he wanted to
crawl under the rock I’d just tripped over?
Our
ten months together during my senior year of 1973 evaporated into a depressing
mist. I stood. “Fine. If that’s the way you want it, sounds good to me.” I
coughed to try and cover up the bitterness in my tone.
He
rose beside me and his blond hair fell over his eyes. He pushed the strands
aside with an absent-minded flick of his hand. “Don’t be that way. It’s a good
idea, and it’ll be much easier on us. Long distance relationships are hard.”
“How
would you know?”
“Everyone
says so.”
“Fine,”
I repeated. “Now to make sure I have it straight — we’re both free to see other
people, right?”
He
nodded, but I thought I detected a kernel of doubt beginning to grow. His brows
crinkled and his blue eyes narrowed.
I
went on. “Okay. I guess we’re both on the same page then. You leave in a couple
hours for college in California while I stay here in Washington. And we’re both
free to date other people. Are we going to communicate at all, or are we
stopping that too?”
I
deserved a medal. My voice poured out words as if reciting the latest cookie
recipe, not closing down a relationship that had cruised along for the better
part of a year.
Greg’s
eyes stayed focused on mine. “We can write. I think it only takes a couple of
days for a letter to get here from California. You’ll write me, won’t you?”
I
raised my chin. I could keep up the ruse for another few minutes. “Of course.
We’ll both write. It’s a plan.”
I
leaned over and kissed him. I didn’t give him time to kiss me back.
“Safe
travels,” I said and smiled with warmth I didn’t feel. If he was dumping me, I
was going out with class. I made certain the look in my eyes matched my smile,
then turned and walked away, swaying my hips as if there were no tomorrow.
Eat
your heart out, Greg Johnson.
Eat
your heart out, but good.
There
was sadness inside me somewhere, but the anger and growing nausea were doing a
masterful job of covering it up.
Keep
our options open, indeed.
So
be it.
The
creep.
My passion is writing! What could
be more delicious than inventing new characters and seeing where they take you?
I'm a teacher so I spend most of my waking hours with young people. I love
chatting with them and hearing their views on love and life. My students are
magical, and I am honored to be part of their lives.
I've lived in Honduras, Grand Cayman, and Costa Rica. Presently, I live in
Indiana with my husband, Paul. We have two grown children and a precious
grandbaby, special delivery from Africa.
When not teaching, I love to hole up in our lake cabin and write — often with a
batch of popcorn nearby. (Oh, and did I mention dark chocolate?)
I enjoy getting to know my readers, so feel free to write me at: contact@brendamaxfield.com
. Visit me to learn about all my books and some good, clean teen reads: www.brendamaxfield.com Happy Reading!
LINKS:
terrific scene!
ReplyDeleteWould be great on the big screen.
Thanks, Jeff! And thank you, Elaine, for hosting me today!
ReplyDeleteCongratulations on the release, Brenda!
ReplyDeleteIt sounds like a great book.
I'm looking forward to reading your book Brenda! It sounds great! I thought about writing my love story too, since it also had a sort of convoluted start with me being engaged to the wrong guy. Maybe someday I'll build up the courage. :D
ReplyDeleteThanks, Shea and Iris! I have to admit it was a total kick to write!
ReplyDeleteLove the excerpt, but just for the record, the unsuspecting toad deserved a good shin kick right after the kiss. Although I suppose that might not qualify as "going out with class" ... but I still think it was warranted. :)
ReplyDeleteHa,ha! Yes, Heather, I really did want to give it to him. Maybe I was a little too goody-goody! If it happened now, yeah, he'd be limping! :-D
ReplyDeleteLet me add my congratulations on your release! It was fun to be young, but I agree, it's definitely better to live in the present.
ReplyDeleteI wouldn't want to go back in time. Well, maybe to get rid of the gray! Ha! I agree, the present is the best! Thanks, Patty!
ReplyDelete