Mystery Woman

I found a photo of a woman I have never seen before. The woman caught my interest right away, because she looked somewhat like myself.  This photo was buried my grandpa’s chest, so it had to have some importance to him. She had light blonde hair with curls that were down to her waist; her hair was the same strawberry blonde as mine. The picture was taken when she played high school softball, because under the playing year, which was 1992, it said “Lady Warriors” in big bold red letters. The back of the photo was smudged, so at one point, there was more information that could’ve told my nosey self more. I was confused because the bottom of the picture looked like it had been torn where her name would be printed on the photo. This sparked my interest even more. I needed to know whom she was, why she was in my grandpa’s chest where he kept all of his old cards and letters from the air force when he was deployed, and I wanted to know why she looked like me. Was it an aunt that I never saw? I just needed to know who this woman was.

I asked both of my parents who she was, and they just looked at each other then back at me while shrugging their shoulders saying, “We don’t know sweetie.”

             

 

“We should have told her, I knew we should have. I knew Samantha would’ve eventually found out about her someway. Mark, why didn’t we just tell her? We stress honesty, but we haven’t been honest to our own daughter.. I’m an awful mother..”

“It’s okay Tina, she wont know how to find her, we just couldn’t do it back then.. Our secret will still be just our secret.”

Monkey See, Monkey Do

     Jada was not the only person to grow up during all of these experiences; she raised myself into being a better aunt and mother figure for later on in my life.  I cannot wait to see these two beautiful girls grow up, have their first boyfriends, be there for them when they have their first heart break, go throughout high school, get ready for prom, graduate, get married, and have beautiful children of their own. Being an aunt is definitely a great experience, because you get to raise children, but also send them back home when you’ve just had enough and want to go out. Jada look at me the other day and said, “Aunt Ash, whenever you get your own place, you better have a room with bunk beds for me and Chloe.” It is one of the best feelings, knowing that you make such an impact on someone so small. Both of these little girls will always be my monkeys, no matter how old we get. 

Reunion

Hi guys! I still have a bunch of edits to make, but if anyone has some suggestions with any part of this piece, I'd really appreciate any kind of feedback! Thanks!

            

 

    It was only 1 o’clock and already Sarah had scored two of the best runway models in the industry for next month’s spring revealing show and heard rumors about getting her second promotion. This is going to be a good day.  Sarah leaned back on her office couch and popped on her headphones.

            “Don’t worry. About a thing. ‘Cause every little thing. Gonna be alright.”

            Sarah’s long, blonde hair swayed as she moved with the music and reached down toward the coffee table to pick up today’s paper that her assistant, Mark, had delivered earlier.

            “Two Dead in Fatal School Bus Crash.” Damn.

            “Learn How to Salt Cure Fish with Chef Bobby Flay.” I think I’ll pass.

            She was almost done skimming the last couple pages when something made her do a double take.  She could see his warm, brown eyes even on black and white print.  Quickly scanning the rest of the paper, Sarah grabbed the nearby trash can as she read:

            Obituaries

            Oh my God. No. No. NO!  Memories flooded Sarah’s mind as she tried to forget what she just saw.

            It was her cousin’s wedding reception.  All over the twelve acres of fake green lawn were men in overly-expensive tuxedos and women in fancy, pastel-colored hats and pastel-colored cocktail dresses.  On each of the fifty round guest tables sat a $1,500 bottle of champagne and divine bouquet of perfectly matching purple and yellow orchids.  Go big or go home: it was the Hamilton way.

            It was hot, so hot that the eight foot tall frozen swans that once formed a heart with their curved necks turned into a headless, dripping blob of ice.  Sarah, in her electric blue strapless dress, sat with her arms crossed and rolled her eyes as women passing by fanned themselves.

            “Well you sure look like you’re having a good time!”

Sarah’s hazel eyes glared at his.  He flashed a glaringly white smile and she had no choice but to give one back.

            “Dance with me.”

            Before she could say no, he softly grabbed her hand and pulled her close to his chest, and they were dancing.  How is he getting away with this?

            “Oh. Hi. My name is Carson.  I’m best friends with one of the groomsmen.”

            Sarah was already up close and personal, so she analyzed every bit of him without shame.  His golden hair, displaying a sad attempt of a comb over, shined in the sunlight.  The orange and green plaid button down he had on didn’t match the shade of his tie.  Sarah could easily tell his suit was an off brand.  He was someone her parents would never approve of, which only gave her more reason to fall for him.

· · ·

“June 8^th, 1992 – August 2, 2016

Carson Hayes, new resident of San Diego, passed away in a car accident on Friday.  He was the cherished older brother of Jackson and son of Linda and Bill, who are from Kentucky.  There will be a viewing at Brunner Funeral home on Monday at 6:00 P.M.”

           

            This can’t be right. Why would he move to California? He would have never left Kentucky!  Sarah heard a soft knock on the door, but she couldn’t stop gasping for breath as steady tears flowed down her tan skin.  Slowly, the door moved inward and Mark popped his head around. 

            “Jesus Sarah, what happened?”

            “Just.. Just please let me be for now. Cancel the rest of my appointments for today. I’m so.. Please go. I’m so sorry.”

            Mark reluctantly slid toward the door, keeping an eye on her the whole way.  After he walked out of the room, she could see him peer over his shoulder to get a glimpse of her through the window. Sarah closed the blinds and relocated to her desk to do some online searching.  His Facebook showed that he recently changed his current location to San Diego.

            She still couldn’t believe it, believe that he was here and believe that he is gone.  After some more searching, she found an address with his first, middle, and last name.  Keys were snatched off the desk and Sarah was out the door without stopping to explain to Mark or any of her coworkers.  Within 30 seconds she had already sprinted to her silver two-door Lexus and was pushing 95 MPH down the freeway. 

            “Make a left on Preston Street and your destination will be on your right” the GPS spoke.  Sarah crookedly parked on the pavement and ran up the steps of the cute front porch.  She noticed that this house was the only one in the neighborhood that even had a porch as she impatiently knocked on the door. Alright. Screw it. Reaching for the knob and giving it a slow twist, she pushed her way through and gasped.  No curtains, a tattered looking green Lazy Boy, and a yellow Labrador that came running with joy when he saw Sarah’s face. This was it.  Sarah’s chest felt hollow and she burst into tears.

            She wandered through the short, undecorated hallway to find herself in a bedroom.  It was definitely Carson’s; the camouflage comforter gave it away.  On his nightstand was a frame and photo Sarah had given him on their second year anniversary.  It was a shot of them at the beach during her spring break, covered in sand with goofy smiles on their faces.  Next to the frame, she saw a little, light blue box and a white envelope.

            Open the envelope first. Open the envelope first. Dammit.  Sarah picked up the box.  Had it not been for the bed, she would have collapsed right onto the ground.  Immediately, she recognized the sparkling diamond she held in her hand.  Turning the ring over, she looked at the inside of the golden band: “For Sarah, My Forever”.

            Sarah could hardly breathe at this point.  Her head was pounding and her body was quivering.  She slid a shaky finger underneath the white envelope, pulled out the crisp paper, unfolded, and read with tear-filled eyes.

           

 

            Sarah,

                        I tried to move on, and I tried damn hard.  But you are a drug I cannot quit.    You wanted to pursue your dream, and who would I be if I tried to stop you?  After you        moved to San Diego, I decided to give med school a shot, like you always told me to.  I absolutely love it. But I realize now that my dream is nothing if I can’t enjoy it with          the woman I fell in love with on this day, August 3^rd, 6 years ago.  Life without you         is worthless.  I have to see you. I have to be with you. Sarah, you are my forever.  Please     take back the ring I so badly wanted you to keep.  Let’s try this again.  Meet me             tonight at Stoked, 7 P.M.

                                                                                                                        Love Always,

                                                                                                                              Carson

 

            The white paper was soaked.  Her body trembled.  She couldn’t breathe. This is all my fault. I left him; I thought it would be best to pursue our own lives.  I was so stupid.  He was right, my dream is nothing without him either. And now he’s gone.

            There was nothing else to see.  Sarah’s aching heart could take no more.  She stumbled back out on the front porch to see a familiar face pulling up in a U-Haul truck.  Carson’s father.  The look of utter shock didn’t leave his face when Sarah put her arms around him tightly, sobbing.

            “This is all. my fault. I’m. soo. sorry..”

            She was already in her car when Bill screamed: “Wait!”  Why did he have to go? WHY?  God I hate you! How could you do this?

            Sarah drove to the only spot she could ever find peace.  It was 7 P.M. and the sky was a fiery orange as the sun sunk over Sunset Cliff.  She would be with him again.

Scene I may be adding to my story

“Oh Lord, please let my son be okay.” She pleaded.

            Marcus’ mother had made her way into his room. Scarlett rubbed her hands along the frame of the door that had the beat up height chart. The lines showed his growth spurts and just how fast Marcus grew to be six feet tall. The faintest scent of his favorite cologne wafted in the air like a light air freshener. She breathed deeply until the capacity of her lungs was reached. She held on to that breath until her body forced her to breathe again. She stopped and admired all of the trophies, medals, and awards he had adorned the royal blue walls and wooden shelves with. He had old jerseys hung around the room. On a small shelf in the corner he had another collection of sports artifacts that Scarlett often dusted.

Moving from the collection to the medium sized window, she looked out over the backyard at the old, slightly rusty playground and the half-sized concrete basketball court. It was Marcus’ birthday gift when he was 10. His mom didn’t like him spending so much time out at the park after dark so they gave him his on spot to play where she could see him and most of the kids in the neighborhood. A distinguished sense of pride rose up through her as remembered waking up at the earliest hours of day break to take him to all his practices. Never once did Marcus complain or whine about waking up early or about not being able to stay up late on the weekends like all the other kids. After the hardest practices and the roughest games, Marcus would still be out on that court every day.  To her core, Scarlett knew something wasn’t right with Marcus. She prayed for her son and for God to knock some sense into him for making her worry so much.

Something "Borrowed"

Intro

Are you familiar with the term “junk drawer”? You know, the small rectangular compartment in your kitchen, office, bathroom, or anywhere there is storage space. It’s usually filled with random, pointless, unorganized chaos, and things that should be thrown out. Maybe old Christmas cards, batteries, receipts, movie theatre stubs, and carryout menus the mail carrier slides between the glass doors. Well, she has one of those. More like a ton. But it’s strange. Her drawers hold nice things. Things people would like to give or receive as gifts, things that should be cherished, and well taken care of. But she didn’t view the items in her drawer that way. Everything she owned was poorly taken care of and unorganized.

She preferred quantity over quality. “The more the better,” she would say checking out at the local goodwill store for things that would eventually end up in one of her junk drawers. She was a bargain shopper, constantly looking for the best deals. Sometimes she wouldn’t even pay, she would “borrow” the items she wanted. This started at a young age. Whatever she liked, caught her eye, or could fit in her miniature palms she took. Her older sister Skylar who was 5 years older than her was usually the victim.                                                 

Skylar was the complete opposite. Skylar was a neat freak. Everything must be in its correct area. The bookshelf in the dining area was assembled in alphabetical order by the author’s name. The clothes and linen closets were arranged by size and color. Even her junk draw was organized. The old Christmas cards were organized by year and sealed away in a plastic zip lock bag. The carryout menus were arranged in alphabetical order and held together by a paper clip. The grocery receipts were arranged by date and stabled together. Skylar was always annoyed by her little sister’s messiness and hated when she wouldn’t return the things she “borrowed”. Skylar was extremely into sunglasses and had a collection that contained over 100 pair. Aside for the normal sibling tension they had a great relationship. Skylar graduated with a Ph.D. in pharmaceutical sciences and did research at her local university. Although Skylar was busy she always made time to hang out with her younger sister.

Something "Borrowed"

“I saw your Instagram post earlier today. Are those my brand new one of a kind limited addition three hundred and eighty dollar Ray Ban aviators trimmed in 24K gold?” Skylar said trying to grasp her breath.

“Ummmmmmmm yes. I didn’t know they were brand new”

“Whether they were new or old, cheap or expensive you should not have them.”

“Come onnnn. You have to admit I look absolutely fabulous in them,” she said standing in the mirror as she flipped her hair and arranged her lips as if she was kissing someone.

“I was going to bring them back…eventually. I just BORROWED them. Why are you so uptight, relax a little. You know, you should really stop being so stingy and materialistic. At the end of the day they’re just overly priced frames that doesn't really block the sun that well”.

Skylar flared her nostrils, tightened her fist, and stared with eyes full of rage. She could not believe what she had heard.

“Wait, what? How dare you STEAL from me and then negatively criticize the quality of my sunglasses?”

            She tried to speak, but Skylar continued ranting.

            “Materialistic?” Skylar shouted as her eyes widened with disbelief.

“Well pardon me for showing interest in nice things! And did I hear you say borrow? Yeah right. You mean like how you borrowed my hand woven Italian infinity scarf. My hand painted Japanese coasters. My sterling silver name engraved pen set. My turquoise ring. My Pandora bracelet. My Louis Vuitton cross body bag. The list goes on and on”.