BestsellerBound Short Story Anthology Volume 3 Page 7

  My next statement tried to reveal my understanding. “My mom told me chemistry fails but friendship lasts until the final breath of life.”

  “You’ve never felt the fireworks?” She grabbed and squeezed my hands then looked at me with sympathetic eyes, “I hope you have one shot at it before you die. Then, you’ll understand why I stayed in that bad relationship.”

  I wanted to say that chemistry didn’t escape me but decided to keep my own love life a bit more private than she did. Changing the focus, I asked, “So, when did you fall in love with Ray?”

  “We consoled each other about our best friend’s loss.”

  “Ray still felt close to your husband after all he put him through?”

  “They grew up together sharing history and brotherhood!” She added, “You don’t give up friends- that are more like family- just because they have faults.”

  “When did it click that you two should join forces?”

  “Sometime during all the conversations, which came easily, we realized we’d make a perfect pair. He asked and I agreed to let him into my life.” She smiled waving to our client while flagging her to our table, “He’s been a wonderful husband and dad to all my children. Please, don’t ever tell him that he doesn’t fulfill my need for bliss; I had more than enough chemistry before marrying him!” Somehow, she knew her secret would follow her to the grave. She finished with, “I hate to admit it but God did something I was too coward to do! I’d have never left my first husband, so The Lord ended that tainted relationship for me.”

  After my unexpressed promise, our eighty-year old client entered the area and conversation; she arrived right in the ‘nick of time’ because the dialog turned a bit too personal from my initial benign question. Unwittingly, the old woman reopened Pandora’s Box, “Catch me up! What are you gals gossiping about?”

  Having been friends for years, Karen half joked with Eve, “You’re love life!”

  “Before or after Ian?” Eve attempted clarification.

  “With Ian- of course! He’s the reason we have your sale’s listing! We are overjoyed and hope you are just as ecstatic.” Karen chuckled as her friend pulled up a chair with one hand while holding her tea cup in the other.

  “I’m confused.” Eve slyly asked, “Do you want to know if I’m excited to have you sell my home or ‘tickled pink’ to be with him?” With a tone that seemed stern but hinted of kidding, the woman continued, “The second answer concerning my relationship with my new boyfriend is none of your business; what my boyfriend and I feel is our secret!” She chortled, “But- since you are my best friend, I can tell you that the answer to both questions is yes!”

  “Ian and you act like a couple of kids!” Her friend began.

  “Yeah, we break all the rules; our parents would be mortified if they ever found out,” Eve kissed the Heavens then smirked and winked my direction.

  “I’m so glad you finally met the man of your dreams!”

  “Wasn’t our meeting just the craziest thing?” Realizing I wasn’t up to speed, the older lady filled me in with a brief synopsis, “My grandchildren live miles and miles away. My husband died twenty years ago, so I moved to this retirement village to meet a widow; I mean cure what ailed me!” She laughed before further explaining the outcome of her situation, “All around me people remarried second and third times. My love life consisted of being the maid of honor at various occasions including some for men I had my eye on.” She smiled wide and winked, “Obviously, the feelings were not mutual!”

  Tapping Eve gently on the arm, Karen jested, “I told you if you wanted those guys’ eyes on you that you needed to collect your morning paper in a tantalizing nightgown!”

  “I did,” She giggled while explaining her garb, “I wore a shift.”

  “Plaid to be exact!” Karen pointed out, “Not a bit revealing. What were you trying to tempt? Fate?”

  “It had snaps for easy access,” The old lady reminded her.

  “Men can’t figure that out- not from a distance, anyway!” She jested back.

  Turning to me, Karen added, “She had a good first marriage- just like yours!”

  Eve interrupted, “Was your marriage arranged?” Her next comment left me wondering if she was joking or serious, “Dad gave me away; actually, he got a quart of milk and ten hens.”

  “Look on the bright side! Your father got a meal and you out of his house!” Eve’s face momentarily revealed contempt due to this current bantering while her friend continued, “At least, he didn’t have to pay Fred to keep you!” Karen showed the reality of Eve’s first union as they broke into laughter.

  The old lady wrapped up her thoughts on her first marriage, “We had a good solid marriage. Fred was a decent man and gave me a great group of children.”

  Then, Karen moved the conversation to the reason we met that morning, “Let’s talk about Ian and your upcoming nuptials!”

  “I feel like a kid in a candy store. He’s so sweet, and I want handfuls of him!” As that ‘eighty-something’ lady described her relationship with her new man, she appeared to be a teenager. “If I hadn’t taken on that babysitting job, I may have never met him!” She held her breath and chest near her heart- simultaneously, before sighing with delight.

  “The gal she was the nanny for introduced her to her great uncle at one of the children’s birthday parties,” Karen added while her friend caught her breath and collected her private thoughts.

  “Ian is great!” Her friend, our client, quickly added. “It was love at first sight!” Eve jested, “He had not yet seen the real me, or he’d have raced away, instead.” After her self-defamation, that elderly lady went on to inform me that she suffered breast cancer at forty and the scars alone might chase a man off. However, she didn’t really blame that surgery for her lack of male suitors; she accused ‘the slutty, neighborhood women’ for ruining her chances for love. Realizing that I might not comprehend her smug humor, the third member of our trio corrected her ornery observation. “I can’t be sure those old gals conquered all those men with their wiles.” She smirked and winked before adding, “Maybe, they bribed the gigolos using their deceased husbands’ estates.” Her tone assured me that she joked, again. However, there is always a bit of truth in frivolous observations.

  “God was saving you for Ian!” Her friend reminded her.

  “When I remained single after Fred’s untimely heart attack, I began to wonder about God!” She added, “Not His existence but His plans for me!” Then, Eve reiterated, “I lived far from my family because I needed the heat of Florida for my health conditions. Before Ian, I lived a very lonely existence.”

  Before tears flowed, Karen interjected, “Thank God for sending you your new love!”

  Then, she turned her attention to me while analyzing her pal’s situation. “Her fiancé lost his wife to cancer just three years ago. That is why he was delayed arriving in this one’s life.” She pointed at her friend before adding, “We couldn’t have you become his mistress!” Her clarification started with sage advice from her past. “It’s wrong to sleep with a married man!” She laughed to relieve the pressure of her last statement, “It’s especially bad to do it when his wife is fighting a battle with a terminal illness!” Karen lightened the mood with her next observation. “If you wait a few weeks or months, his wife would be dead, and then you could have your way with her man!” She proclaimed, “Take advantage of his new freedom! Date him; sleep with him, or whatever!”

  “Which one is it- dating or sleeping? I can do both- simultaneously! Sometimes, I find myself slumbering right in the middle of our date; that can be a problem if I’m the one driving us home after dinner and a movie!” Those friends laughed until tears filled their eyes.

  We listed her house in the retirement village that day because she planned on moving in with her new man. He lived further south in a condo on the Gulf of Mexico. “I got me a rich man!” Eve interjected, “And, I’m worth it!”

  Weeks after we pla
ced her property for sale, Eve suffered a near bleed out from some medication for her ailments. “I thought Ian healed your heart!” Karen quipped as we entered her hospital room.

  “I can’t marry him. He doesn’t need to look after another sick wife; I may die on him!”

  “We all may die!” Karen lectured. “You finally found the love of your life. I’ve never seen you so happy.”

  We prayed with the patient as the doctors made their rounds. Suddenly, her fever broke and her color came back including the deep blue twinkle in her eyes. We realized Ian- or more than likely God- may have been at the root of that miracle because her fiancé entered the room with her doctor in the same moment her condition improved. After looking at her chart, appearance, and fumbling around to call a nurse to take her current vital signs- her physician explained his prognosis, “We can regulate her medications. She may out live us all.”

  As we awaited the bride to arrive to her long anticipated ceremony, I learned from Karen that Ian married the first time out of necessity; his first wife’s ‘teen pregnancy’ prompted that situation. This time, his spouse remained childless, and no shot guns arrived to their wedding. Weeks after Eve’s encounter with near death, two elderly teenagers married their soul mates- finally! Throughout their vows, the couples’ eyes engaged each other as they giggled while stroking each other’s hands before, during, and after the ring delivering part of that ceremony. Their candidness and loving expressions felt refreshing.

  At their reception, as Eve’s oldest son welcomed his step-father with a toast, Karen whispered, “You’re next!”

  “What?”

  “I hope one day no matter how old you get or how long it takes that God sends you that giddy chemistry.” She pointed at the newlyweds. “At least once in a lifetime, everyone should feel the kind of intimacy that is making all these wedding guests want to suggest to Ian and his new wife, ‘Get a room!’”

  “Eve’s dream came true! It’s sweet the way those two are acting as if they’ve never been in love before.” I debate Karen, “Contrary to popular belief, people can be just as happy living with their best friend.”

  “I guess so!” She acknowledged a small amount of truth in my thought before grabbing it back, “However, some people have their best friend sharing their best chemistry. Can you imagine that?”

  “I’m sure it’s possible!” I conceded. “But- rare!”

  “When it happens that spouses are best friends as well as ‘physically attracted’ lovers, can you imagine their communication- especially on intimate levels? It must be mind-blowing!”

  Years later, Karen invited me to Eve’s ninetieth birthday party. Arriving, I expected to see a more rickety couple but they were going strong. What blew my mind was that those love birds didn’t seem to age one bit. In fact, from what I witnessed that day, they must have found the ‘Fountain of Youth’ near their Florida, beachside condo. There must have been some secret chemical in their water because they looked as though their aging process reversed in the past ten years.

  When that elderly man stood to toast his soul mate, his eyes drank her in as if she never stopped being his new bride. Then, he declared, “Our first spouses were good human beings! We had deep and enduring friendships with them.” His wife nodded in agreement as he turned his complete attention to her. “My relationship with this gal,” He caressed her shoulder, “is just as long lasting and deeply emotional. But- there is something new and even better that my soul mate and I share!” Leaning towards her ear, he whispered some secret thoughts before kissing his bride’s cheek. They giggled as she blushed. Then, he clued us in on their marriage’s success, “We love each other’s company on all levels. If someone can be deeply attracted to their best friend, then, I am.”

  Eve thanked him for his toast by saying, “As am I!”

  That night, their smiles and glances into each other’s eyes proved that when they united they answered most- if not all- of life’s questions especially the ones concerning marriage commitments. Best friends can, also, be soul mates. Even better, they may just be the best intimate playmates. When it all comes together in one union; everything including the chemistry is mind-blowing.

  Just ask Eve and Ian! Everyone that met them sensed their deep affection!

  ****

  About the Author:

  How did you get started?

  The short answer is that my mother died.

  As she did, her experiences ran the gamut from going through all the grieving steps a terminal soul follows to having what would be called a NDE- if she had lived. Believing everything she said even during what others called babbling, I became her translator. My Hospice grief counselor listened to my version of the events requiring I write my first book entitled Mom’s on the Roof and I Can’t Get Her Down. Now, I write books about miraculous healings, people being guided by spiritual events (God, Jesus, etc.), and other inspirational or miraculous things.

  Sometimes, I am directly the writer of record. In other cases, I use Sydney S. Song as the author’s name to tell a somewhat true story as gossip- I mean a fiction- while converting characters and situations with embellishments and poetic license in order to keep the real life people’s confidentiality and privacy.

  I either write my own stories or co-produce them with other people; there are 16 books to date; 15 are in publication at AMAZON and other book dealers.

  https://mchanson714.weebly.com/index.html

  ###

  Laundry Day

  by Stacy Juba

  Copyright © Stacy Juba

  Gregg knew he should get the hell out of there. The shower curtain gaped open like at a strip show. Wet lingerie hung over the bathtub and the hand-rail above the soap dish. Warmth rushed through his body as he gawked at a scarlet negligee, hot pink teddy, black mesh corset with garters, and a pair of fishnet stockings.

  Gregg envisioned his wife clad in the teddy and matching G-string, and his breathing accelerated. Wait till she heard about her best friend’s racy wardrobe. Maybe it would inspire her to don something equally dirty. Gregg turned toward the sink and caught his grin in the mirror. It widened as he spied the lacy bra and thong soaking in the sudsy basin.

  Unbelievable. He never would have imagined his sweet neighbor, Bridget Severin, as a temptress who treated her husband to Frederick’s of Hollywood fashion shows. The jerk insulted his wife all the time.

  Just a few moments ago, when Gregg had entered the house after snow blowing his neighbor’s driveway, he found Bridget screaming into the phone at her ingrate husband, hassling her even while away on a business trip to San Diego. “I’m tired of you ordering me around,” she snapped. “You’re my husband, not my keeper.”

  Retreating to the bathroom and giving her privacy seemed like the gentlemanly thing to do.

  Now, waiting for Bridget to finish her call, Gregg slipped into the corridor and parked himself before a display of framed wall photographs. He aimed an uneasy glance down the hallway. Silence. That meant . . .

  “Thank you for helping with the driveway.” Bridget rounded the corner, her cheeks brighter than the scarlet negligee that adorned the tub. “Here are the muffins I promised.”

  She was off the phone.

  For how long? Had Bridget searched for him earlier and seen the door closed? Did she know where he’d been? Or, was she just worried that he’d stumbled across her unmentionables?

  Gregg shuffled in his snow boots and hoped to hell they hadn’t smudged the tiled bathroom floor. “Thanks. I’ve been admiring your pictures.” He tapped a photo of the Severins and their teenage son at the boy’s high school graduation. He’d played in the marching band with Gregg’s daughter.

  Bridget clamped the Tupperware container of muffins against her chest, fingers white-knuckling the sides. Miniature snowmen festooned her heavy sweater. She tugged the lank ends of her auburn bob. “Oh God, I’m so embarrassed.”

  He hoped she meant about the fight, not the sexy garments, thou
gh he would have preferred dodging both topics. Gregg zipped his coat up to his collar, chose the lesser evil. “Everyone has spats with their spouse. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Not just that. I know you were in the bathroom. You must think I’m an idiot, leaving my. . .my laundry all over the place.”

  Why couldn’t women allow anything to pass? He’d let her off the hook and she had jumped right back on. Gregg offered her a sympathetic, please-let-me-leave smile. “Oh, that? I see that stuff at home all the time.” He wished. “Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

  “I can’t help it. It must look like laundry day at the whorehouse.”

  Heat climbed Gregg’s neck and face. He crammed on his wool New England Patriots hat and gloves, and angled his body toward the living room. “No worries. Thanks for the muffins.”

  Bridget pressed the container into his arms. She nipped at her fingernail. “Please don’t mention this to Dennis. He’ll think I’m stupid for being so careless.”

  Asking Dennis Severin if he’d gotten action with the black corset wasn’t exactly mailbox conversation, but Gregg reassured her anyway. Damn, he kept picturing Bridget with that skin-tight corset riding her breasts. In fifteen years, he’d never considered her attractive. She was a devoted mother, valuable member of the Music Boosters group at the school, and a friendly neighbor. But, as far as looks, petite freckled redheads weren’t his type. He preferred willowy brunettes, like his wife. Now, after seeing her lingerie, Bridget had turned him on to the point that he visualized her in the naughty underwear.

  “I’d better get home.” Gregg edged past her. He strode toward the front door.

  They exchanged stilted goodbyes and Gregg hurried out into the bitter weather. Thankfully, the frigid air cooled him off better than a cold shower. He lowered his head against the thick flurries beating his beard and trudged through the slushy mess toward his own home at the end of the cul de sac.

  He found it interesting that Bridget wore all those outfits when everyone knew she and Dennis shared a strained relationship. Maybe they solved their problems in the bedroom. Gregg shuddered, and not from the 25 degree temperature. He was wondering way too much about his neighbors’ sex lives.