( Read more... )

Earth shattering banner by the fantabulous Blue Suede Shoes at SAYS

This is my first attempt at original fiction.

Here I sit, thirty-three year old Megan Reynolds, on a bar stool in my best friend’s pristine kitchen. The stainless appliances are shining in the light from the brilliant bay window in the table nook, making the fingerprint smudges that much easier to see. I smile my thanks as Steph hands me a steaming mug of mocha almond fudge coffee brewed just for me in the newfangled (and also stainless steel) single serving coffee pot. I hold the mug to my lips and softly blow across the top of the rich liquid. I watch as it ripples toward the edge of the mug and threatens to escape from the other side. I take a small sip and sigh as I feel the hot liquid make its way down to my stomach. This is as close to heaven as it gets for a young mom of three children under the age of six. And, just like that, the peace of the moment is shattered by the sound of screaming coming from the bonus room above us. I cringe slightly as Steph bellows up the stairs.

“There is no need to shout in the house. If you can’t be quiet then take it outside!”

I shake my head, feeling the ponytail that I’ve swept my auburn shoulder length hair into, sway back and forth around me. I don’t usually wear it pulled back, as it makes the streaks of gray that have started growing more noticeable, but I was lazy this morning and didn’t feel like fixing it.

“Do as I say, not as I do, huh?” I say with a grin.

“Bite me,” she grins back and settles back down on her bar stool and watches as all five of our children come bounding down the stairs, through the kitchen and out the back door. “Close the door!” she bellows again after the last one. My middle child, four year old Sophie, comes back and grins sheepishly as she closes the door behind her.

“Don’t let Adam climb up the ladder by himself, Soph,” I call after her, knowing that she’ll be more of a mother to her 2 year old brother than he needs. She’s my little carbon copy, looks just like I did at that age, with her green eyes and strawberry blonde hair. She takes after me as well, bossy, smart, sure of herself. Sometimes I wonder if my husband had anything to do with her at all. Our oldest, Molly, is six years old and takes after him. She’s got dark brown hair and big brown eyes. She’s quiet and reserved like Josh is. We used to joke about how we had “his and hers.” Then there’s little Adam who has Josh’s dark brown hair but managed to get my green eyes and dimples, the perfect blend of the two of us. Now we have “his, hers and ours.” Life is good, at least most of the time.

“Do you all want to come over for a barbecue tomorrow night?” Steph asks me, “I picked up some steaks at the store yesterday and Jack is itching to try out his new grill.”
I glance out the window at the massive new stainless steel grill, my friends are obsessed with stainless at the moment, and Jack’s job as a chief financial officer for an up and coming technology company lets them afford the top notch appliances. Josh and I are not as financially set. We do all right. I was able to quit my job selling ad space in our local paper when Molly was born, but we don’t have a lot left over for luxuries, much to Josh’s dismay. It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make to be able to be at home with my children and not have to pay for someone else to take care of them.

“I’ll have to check with Josh, he may be working late. You know how obsessed he gets when there’s a deadline looming.” Josh helps set up computer networks for several companies around town. He’s a computer genius, but it involves a lot of troubleshooting for clients that are usually impatient to have their computer issues solved NOW.

“You should make him come, he’s been holing himself up at the office entirely too much lately.”

“You don’t have to tell me, I’ve barely seen him recently, and when he is home he’s on that damn computer in the office still working,” I sigh and look out the window at our kids. Steph’s daughter is five years old, and her son is three, sandwiched right between mine, it’s like watching a moving staircase as the five of them are playing follow the leader behind Molly, each head just slightly shorter than the one before. I look back at my friend whose blonde curls are held up in a messy, but becoming, twist held in place by a simple clip. How she manages to always look put together, even with no effort, never ceases to amaze me. I sigh audibly, and continue, “I think we’ve gotten into a rut.”

She nods understanding, it happens to all of us, I suppose. So much of your life revolves around your children when they are born and young, and with only two years between each of mine, I feel as if I’ve done nothing but breastfeed and change diapers for the last six years. Now that Adam is finally weaned and beginning to potty train, I’m finally beginning to feel like Megan again and not just Mommy.

“We spend too much time as ‘Mommy and Daddy’ and not enough time as ‘Megan and Josh.’ He’s been so moody lately. I’m not sure what’s going on with him, but he’s distant.”

“Maybe he’s having an affair,” Steph says jokingly, and I laugh too at the complete absurdity of it all.

“Ha! Josh says it’s hard enough keeping one woman happy, much less two. Besides when would he have time to have an affair, if he’s not at work he’s at home, and when he is at work we are always IM’ing each other.”

“Well, you need to do something to get yourselves out of the rut, and you know Josh won’t do it,” she says. We’ve been friends for a long time, and she knows my husband well.

“I’ll think on it and try to figure something out,” I respond with a glance at my watch. It’s almost time to head home and get dinner ready. I get up and walk towards the back door to give my children the five minute warning. It’s always hard to get them to leave Auntie Steph’s house, but it’s even harder if I haven’t prepared them first. The five minute warning turns into another fifteen minutes, as Steph and I have once again gotten side tracked in our conversations (it’s no wonder my children never believe me when I tell them they have five minutes to pick up all their toys), and now it is really time to head for home, I haven’t thawed anything for dinner so I need to have time to run the meat through the microwave before I start to cook the tacos I’m planning on having.

The kids trudge back into the house grumbling about not wanting to leave Ashlyn and Caleb. Steph leans down to hug each of my kids and whispers into Sophie’s ear. I watch as Sophie’s eyes get big, and she turns to me and grins.

“Really?” she asks me.

“What did you say to her?” I ask my friend who is looking at me with a self-satisfied smirk on her face.

“I just told her that if they all leave quietly, and behave for you tonight, that maybe they could come over for a sleepover tomorrow night,” she leans in and whisper in my ear, “and then Mommy and Daddy can work on getting out of that rut.” She gives me a wink and a naughty grin. I laugh much too loudly.

“I may just take you up on that.”

“Please do, because the offer is out there, and the kids have heard it, so they will now pester you until you’ve agreed to let them.”

I shuffle the children out the door and into our van. I forgot to leave the windows cracked and I’m accosted by a wave of Saharan heat that has built up inside from sitting in the early summer afternoon. I quickly start the car so the AC can cool it down while I try to untwist the harness straps in Adam’s car seat to get him buckled in. I check to make sure both of the girls have fastened their seat belts and then shut the door as I walk around to the driver’s side. I see Steph standing in the doorway and wave.

~*~

After dinner, Josh oversees bath time while I load the dishwasher and put the leftovers away. He helps put everyone into their jammies and brush their teeth. I come upstairs in time to read them a story and tuck them in. All three are crowded around me in Adam’s toddler bed. We are surrounded by trains. There are trains on the comforter, trains on the wall, trains on the pillow. I swear there is a train gene on that Y chromosome because all little boys are obsessed with trains. I read There’s a Wocket in my Pocket by Dr. Seuss for the bajillionth time and send the girls to their rooms as I get up and turn on the CD player with the lullabye cd that Adam has to listen to every night before bed. I hand him his ratty blanket with the satin trim that he has to rub to go to sleep as well. I lay down with him for the first song of the cd, a routine that both of us enjoy. I breathe in the clean smell of him as I gently run my fingers through his damp hair. I quietly sing along with the cd as his eyes begin to droop. When the song is over I kiss the top of his head and whisper, “love you to the moon and back,” and quietly leave the room, leaving the door open a crack as I go.

I cross the hall to Sophie and Molly’s room which is painted pink and looks like the princess float from Disneyworld exploded inside. If there’s a train gene on the Y chromosome, there’s a princess gene on that X one. I walk over to Sophie’s bed first and tuck her in along with the 40 different stuffed animals she insists sleep with her.

“How much do I love you?” I ask.

“In the moon and back!” she says with a grin and reaches up to give me a hug that fills my heart with joy. She puckers up her little lips and plants a sloppy kiss on my cheek. I’m careful not to wipe it off while she’s watching.

I walk over to my big girl, Molly, who is reading a book to herself in her bed. I sigh as I realize she’s gotten big enough to read silently as she’s not even mouthing the words anymore. I hand her a bookmark so she can mark her place and she closes the book and looks up at me with those brown eyes that are just like her dad’s. I put the book on the shelf beside her bed and pull the covers up around her.

“Butterfly kisses?” she asks.

I lean down and put my eyes right next to hers and we flutter our lashes on each other’s cheek causing us to each giggle at the tickling feeling that comes.

“Sweet dreams, sunshine,” I whisper as I kiss her forehead.

I walk to the door and turn out the light. “Go straight to sleep, no talking, no getting out of bed. You’ve been to the bathroom; you have your water bottles. There is no reason to get out of the bed. ‘Night girls.”

Sighing I walk down the stairs to look for Josh. I check the living room, hoping he’s settled on the couch and I can snuggle up with him to watch a little T.V. He’s not there, though, so I walk toward his office, knowing that’s where I find him. I see him sitting at his desk typing away at the keyboard of his computer. He looks up and smiles softly as he clicks away with the mouse. I walk behind him and wrap my arms around his neck from behind. I kiss his cheek softly.

“What’re you working on?” I say glancing at the screen. He’s got about 14 tabs open in the web browser, but a spreadsheet is what’s on the screen.

“The budget,” he replies and turns to kiss my cheek. I roll my eyes at him.

“Has it changed that much since yesterday?” I say with a chuckle.

“Hardy har har,” he pretends to chuckle back. After 10 years of marriage I know that balancing the budget relaxes him. Don’t ask me how, because it does nothing but stress me out. I’m forever thankful that he not only takes care of it all but enjoys doing it. He’s the one that has made sure that we have enough life insurance; he’s the one that makes sure we save for retirement. He’s also the one can’t wait to save up for a new toy, however, and is willing to charge that new computer, or weed eater. That’s where my voice of reason comes in. I imagine he’s got some new gadget he’s dying to buy and is trying to figure out how he can pay for it quickly enough so that I’ll let him get it.

“Come to bed,” I whisper in his ear, “soon.” I bend down and give him a slow kiss. He returns it somewhat absently.

“I will, just let me finish up here.”

“Don’t wait too long,” I say through a yawn, “I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be awake.”

He gives me that smile that’s just for me, the one he first gave me back when we were teenagers. We met in high school. We were on the track team together. He was the shy, new kid in town who’d had to move halfway through is sophomore year of high school. We sat together on the bus to a meet and I started talking to him (mom says I never knew a stranger as a kid). We became fast friends. I introduced him to my then boyfriend, Craig, and in turn Craig introduced him to his sister. We were the four musketeers always doing stuff together. Josh and Allison dated for over a year; Craig and I broke up shortly after they did when we were all getting ready to go off to college. I make my way up the stairs and look at the photos of our life together over the past 17 years. The track team photo from our senior year, graduation where we were standing in our cap and gown with all the other track seniors. I stopped on the stairs for a moment at the picture from Colleen Kennedy’s 20th birthday party where we met up again. We hadn’t seen each other since graduation, although we had been writing to one another, and it was nice to catch up with each other. Things had changed, though. He wasn’t the gangly, sweet Josh who’d been my best friend. He had grown into his tall frame, and filled out some, but more importantly he’d become more sure of himself. We spent a lot of time together that summer, and when we left for our respective colleges at the end of it, we were officially in a long distance relationship.

I peek in on the kids making sure they were asleep, and comfortable and then made my way into the room I shared with my husband. I get ready for bed, deciding to wear a modest satin night gown instead of my usual boxer shorts and t-shirt. I crawl in, savoring the cool, smooth feel of the sheets. In the winter I keep flannel sheets on the bed for extra warmth, and while I love the softness of them, once the weather warms up I love putting my 300 thread count cotton sheets on the bed. I spend a lot of the time before I fall asleep moving my legs from one cool spot, to the next after I’ve warmed it up with my own body heat. I turn the T.V. on and set the sleep timer on it, and proceed to watch the tail end of a movie I’ve seen a dozen times already as I wait for my husband to join me in bed. I must be more tired than I thought, because I don’t make it past the first commercial break before I doze off. I’m not sure when Josh comes to bed, but in my sleep I feel him join me and I snuggle in next to him. He wraps his arm around me as I tuck my head into that special nook on his chest. I sigh as I drift back off to sleep.

~*~

I love summer. Now that Molly has finished her first year of school and will be a great big first grader in a couple of months, I no longer have to get up at 7am to get her ready for school, nor do I have to get Sophie ready for preschool. My morning is blissfully unstructured. I roll over as Josh hits his snooze button for the third time and nudge him with my foot. As it begins to go off for the fourth time, I give him a swift kick. If I have to hear that alarm go off one more time when I do not have to get up he will regret it. He takes the hint and shuts the alarm off and crawls over Adam, who has somehow ended up in bed with us sometime during the night, and heads for the shower. By the time he’s out of the shower, though I’m wide awake and I watch as he stands in front of the mirror with the towel slung low around his hips as he shaves. Neither one of us has our track bodies anymore, but he’s still relatively in shape and still takes my breath away. I glance over at Adam and wish that I had inherited that gene that allows me to move my sleeping children from one place to the next without them waking. Sadly, I’ve never been able to do that with any of my children. Adam is beginning to stir anyway and I can hear the girls giggling in their room. The opportunity for a morning quickie is gone and I sigh as I get out of bed and head downstairs to make cereal and chocolate milk for the munchkins.

The kids are sitting happily munching their Honey Nut Cheerios and watching Playhouse Disney when Josh comes down the stairs fully dressed and about to head out the door. I hand him a cup of coffee and a bagel that I’ve already toasted and put cream cheese on.
“Steph and Jack want us to come over for a barbecue tonight. Did I mention that?” I say as I take a bite of my own bagel.

“No, I don’t think you did. I’m probably going to be late tonight, though. Why don’t you go without me?”

“Josh, it’s Friday night. Family night.”

“I know, hon, but I really need to finish this project before the weekend, otherwise I’m liable to get called on my cell all weekend long.” He knows how much I hate it when he gets calls on his cell during the weekend.

“Fine. But this weekend is for family. Got it?” I say with mild indignation.

“Got it!” he says and gives a sloppy salute. I roll my eyes at my goofy husband and he bends down and gives me a kiss and whispers in my ear, “sorry I missed the window last night, this weekend, though, okay?”

I smile up at him and nod my head. I watch as he gives each of the kids a kiss before heading out the door. I can still taste his toothpaste as I hear his car door slam shut. I decide then and there, that Steph is right. It is most definitely time for us to get out of our rut. I pick up the phone and my fingers automatically dial the number without my even having to think about it.

“Hello?”

I smile at the timid little voice that has picked up the phone.

“Hello, Caleb. It’s Aunt Megan, can you please put your mommy on the phone?”

“Mmmkay.” I hold the phone away from ear knowing what’s coming. “MOMMY! PHOOO-ONE.”

I giggle as I hear Steph taking the phone out of his hands while scolding, “What have I told you about answering the phone? And if you do answer the phone, it’s not polite to yell into the phone…Hello?”

“Hey you! Are you sure you want to have three extras tonight?”

“You bet! We’ll have a regular sleepover, I’ll pop popcorn and they can camp out in the bonus room. Are you seducing your husband then?” she says with a snicker in her voice.

“Yep, Operation Rekindle the Romance is about to commence.”

As I shower for the day, I take extra pains to make sure I shave all of my legs, and not just the part that usually shows. And I actually put forth the effort to blow dry my hair and style it in the way I know Josh likes best. I take the kids to the library, and we have a quiet afternoon at home playing Guess Who? and watching videos.

At 5pm, I go upstairs and put on my one cute dress, and my strappy heels. They only have one and half inch heels, but for me, that’s high. I fix my hair again, and put on some make up. I pack an overnight bag for the kids with their PJ’s and their special lovies and clothes for the morning. I load them into the car and drive over to Steph and Jack’s. Ashlyn and Caleb are outside waiting for us when we arrive and the girls bound out before I can even get Adam unbuckled from his seat. At least I don’t have to worry about them missing me I think to myself.

I carry the bag in and drop it down beside the door. Jack comes down the stairs and whistles at me.

“Hot date tonight?” he asks as he gives me a hug.

“I hope so,” I say and wink at him, “got any plans?”

“Just keeping five kids from destroying the house,” he chuckles.

“Ahhh, so you’re busy then. Too bad, I guess I’ll have to find someone else to charm.”

“Afraid so.”

Steph comes around the corner holding a bottle of wine. “My contribution to the cause,” she says as she hands it to me.

“You don’t have to do that; your contribution is the babysitting.”

“Nonsense, enjoy it!”

She practically pushes me out the door. “The kids are fine, go, have fun, and I promise we won’t call before 10am tomorrow.”

I call the kids to me and give them each a hug and a kiss and remind them to listen to Auntie Steph and Uncle Jack. I’ll see you in the morning. I get back into my minivan (suddenly I wish I had a sexier car for seducing my husband), and wave at the seven of them all standing on the front porch waving back at me.

I stop at our favorite restaurant and pick up the meal I had called in. His favorite is the lasagna and Caesar salad. I’ve got the chicken parmesan and a Caesar salad. The wine that Steph gave us will go well with it. I make sure that the hostess has included napkins and plastic utensils so we don’t have to eat it with our fingers…although, maybe that could be fun I think wickedly.

As I pull into the parking lot outside of Josh’s building the thought of how I’m going to get into the building suddenly strikes me. I can call him and have him come down to let me in, but that would ruin the whole plan I have of showing up at his office door, in my cute dress, and strappy heels, my sexy bra and underwear holding dinner and wine. I sit looking at the building for a moment when I see one of his coworkers leaving the building. Perfect! I open the door and call out for him to hold the door for me. He recognizes me and holds it open as I struggle to get the bag with dinner and the wine out of the car while keeping it flat so that we don’t end up with pasta and sauce on the lid. I fumble with the keys to lock the van door after I’ve closed it and as quickly as I can, in my one and a half inch strappy heels that I’m not comfortable wearing, make my way to the door where the man is still, very generously, holding the door for me.

“Thank you,” I say breathlessly, “Josh is working late so I thought I’d bring him dinner.”

“That’s nice. Last I saw him he was in his office talking with Kyle.”

I nod my head, and thank him again. Josh has mentioned Kyle before. They’ve been working on the network for their biggest client together. I selfishly hope that their finished chatting by the time I get up there, I want to see the full effect of Josh’s surprise when I show up at his office without him toning it down in front of a friend.

I walk up the one flight of steps and turn the corner to walk down the corridor to Josh’s office. I can see that his door is open, and I don’t hear any talking, so hopefully that means that Kyle has left and we can be alone. I quietly turn into the office and my heart literally stops beating. Every nerve in my body feels like it’s on fire. My mouth suddenly feels as if it is filled with an entire bag of cotton balls, and no amount of water will ever quench my thirst. Suddenly, not only does my heart start beating again, but it starts beating at such a rate, it rivals my heart rate after some of my best races. It feels as if it may just beat itself right out of my chest. My stomach lurches, and simultaneously begins to creep its way up as if it too wants to leave my body. My hands begin to shake so violently that our Italian dinner, from our favorite restaurant falls from my hand, followed quickly by the bottle of wine. I watch as our dinner seems to fall in slow motion. The bag hits first and the plastic top, already covered in condensation from the cooling food, pops off the silver foil pan and red marinara sauce splatters over the floor and myself like blood pouring out of my broken heart. The sound of the wine bottle hitting the floor and shattering into a million tiny pieces like my life shattering around me is what startles Josh and Kyle out of the tender embrace I have found them in, their lips still swollen from the kiss.

I turn and run in the opposite direction as I hear Josh calling my name and running after me. I fumble with my keys, finding it difficult to extract them from my purse due to my shaking hands. I manage to get into the van and close the door and lock it, but I cannot get the key into the damned ignition. Josh is banging on the window begging me to open the door. I can see the pain in his eyes, as well as I’m sure he can see the betrayal in mine. Steph’s joke from yesterday plays through my mind. “Maybe he’s having an affair.” I remember laughing at the ludicrous thought. Josh would never cheat on me with another woman. I never doubted that. What I never expected, in a million years, was that he would have cheated on me with a man.

“Megan, Megan! Please,” he is sobbing and can barely get the words out, “please, open the door. Talk to me, please.”

I’m numb, this can’t be happening to me. I’ve known this man for nearly 20 years. We have been best friends more than half our lives. We have three children…oh my God, my children. What does this mean for my children? I have loved and cared for this man all of my adult life. How could I not see this? How did I not know this? I’ve always prided myself on my intelligence, how could I have been so stupid? How did I miss the signs? How could he have pretended to love me? How, how, how? I can’t think straight. He continues to bang on my door, pleading with me.

I look at him and manage to put the key in the ignition. I will not have this conversation with him in the middle of a parking lot. I’ve already lost enough dignity. I roll the window down an inch and though gritted teeth mumble, “I will see you at home.”

I put the car in reverse and back out of the parking spot. On autopilot I drive home. I pull into the driveway, and I remember nothing of the drive home. I stumble out of the car, still covered in marinara, and notice the flowerpot holding the African violet that Josh got me for Mother’s Day has fallen to the ground.

Shattered.

Like me.