Tears in the Smile - My short story for my Creative Writing Class

Tears in the Smile

As she sat down at her computer, her heart sank to the pit of her stomach like the Heart of the Ocean sank in the water when dropped from the Titanic. Why Mary, oh why can’t he see you for who you are? She felt disgusted, sitting in her co-dependant state pondering relationships past and especially of present. She knew what had to be done. Tears welled up in her chocolate brown eyes as her soft black hair framed her face; her head hung in shame. “Another one bites the dust.” she said aloud. Although her relationship with her boyfriend of two years, Ron, hasn’t ended, she knew in her heart that it was just a matter of time. Earlier that day, Ron lashed out in anger toward Mary, blind-siding her yet again in what any outsider looking in like a fly on the proverbial wall would call a verbally abusive manner. It was all she could do from hysterically crying tears of pain on what was suppose to be a joyous day. Today, her sister Michelle was getting married to a wonderful man named James. James loved Michelle with every ounce of his soul. Mary thought to her self, If only I can find just half of the love Michelle and James share, things might turn out alright for me. She laid her head down on her black lacquered IKEA desk and relived the events of that day.

The alarm on Mary’s phone went off at six a.m. alerting her that it was time to begin her day. She ever so carefully slipped out of Ron’s masculine arms trying not to wake him. She hated leaving him, the musky scent of his sweaty body enticed her and made her want to stay nestled in their warm down comforter right next to him while the bright sun rays shone through the mini blinds. Shadows danced on the carpet, and as much as she hated to leave him, she knew that she had to go. She quietly dressed her naked subtle body in grey and red sweat pants before trying to slip out of their room.
“Where are you going?” Ron inquired as he awakened sleepily. Mary jumped, not expecting him to stir.
“I am going to the store to get a few last minute things for the wedding today. Go back to sleep baby, you don’t need to wake up just yet. I will wake you when I get home so you can go to the barber shop before we leave town.” Mary walked back to their bed, sat down on their cream colored chenille duvet and leaned over to give Ron what he liked to call a squishy kiss on the lips. “I love you baby.” Mary said as she rose to her feet, herself still tired, walking toward the slightly opened bedroom door. She gathered up her belongings and headed to the store in the early morning hours.

When Mary returned an hour later, she was surprised to see Ron awake, sitting in the office with a blank look on his face and tousled hair on his head. “Hi baby, I’m back! What are you doing up?”
“I have to go to the barber!” he angrily snapped back at her. Mary didn’t know what to make of this sudden attitude change. What the hell happened while I was gone?
“Baby, what’s wrong? I told you I would wake you up. Don’t you remember? I told you I would let you know when you had to leave for the barber. He opens at 8 o’clock. Its 7:30 now. We have plenty of time.” Mary tried to keep her tone even. She did not want to upset Ron anymore than he already was. She had seen this personality switch before, she was just uncertain about what instigated it this time.
“No I don’t remember that conversation, so whatever. I’m going to get in the shower and leave. What else do we have to do today?” he asked. Mary gave him an at best guess timeline, knowing that he wanted to know where they had to be down to the minute. As Ron readied himself to go, Mary busied herself around the house, preparing to watch her sister get married. Once Ron left, Mary got into the shower, letting the hot water pound down on her back. I feel like the weight of the world is upon me. I know God doesn’t give us more than we can handle, but how much grief does one person have to take? The steam engulfed Mary’s presence and for a moment, she forgot the impending potential outcome of Ron’s annoyance and allowed herself to enjoy the feeling of her handing rubbing her body with the soap. “Ron’s hands should be doing this. Today is a day to celebrate love.” As Mary said these words, she realized that there was nobody there to hear them. She also realized that Ron rarely celebrated anything she was associated with. He wasn’t social, he hated her friends, and he certainly did not share her idea of fun. Familiar feelings of inadequacy crept up into her consciousness, despite her best efforts to keep them down. Why did she live like this; with a man who every time he looked at her, saw someone flawed, damaged, and unworthy? She appeared so needy when she believed that this was the only man who would love her, if loving her is even what he did.
Mary snapped back to reality, exited the shower, and began to prepare herself for Michelle’s day. Forty-five minutes later, Ron returned home and she waiting for him to walk down the hall so she could perhaps lift his mood with her stunning, sophisticated appearance because Ron always loved to see his sexy baby. “Hey.” Mary said trying to get his attention.
“You look nice.” Ron muttered under his breath. He didn’t look Mary in the face. Ron brushed past her heading into their room because, thanks to the barber, they were now fifteen minutes behind schedule. Ron got dressed quickly and efficiently, wearing the clothes that Mary kindly laid out on the bed for him. Once Ron emerged from the bedroom, round one between the two of them began.
“What the fuck is the matter with you.” Mary asked him, not bothering to hide her annoyance anymore. She was going to figure this out before she let him ruin another one of her days.
“I don’t know; nothing. I am just reacting to my environment. I am tired of doing things I don’t want to do. I feel coiled and finally, this morning, my spring just snapped. I don’t know why, I don’t know what set it off, I can’t even articulate it.” Ron responded. “I don’t even know why you would say that to me, I am not doing anything to you.”
“Not doing anything to me? You completely disregarded my presences. We live together, in a relationship. I am here. Why don’t you see me?” Mary asked.
“I…am…trying….very hard…to treat you in a manner that you won’t find offensive. I am tired of altering my attitude so you won’t be offended. You are just too much drama.” With that, Ron walked out of the door.
Mary followed him in silence, the tears ready to fall onto her pink cheeks. Her heart was shattered again. It had been broken before, then pieced back together and held in place with the emotional equivalent of flimsy scotch tape. However, Mary understood that just because the stores advertise that you can’t see the seams of the tape on the Christmas present, it doesn’t mean it isn’t there. The seams of her heart appeared to be mended, but in actuality, her heart was as fragile as the seventy-five dollar crystal punch bowl she carried in her arms. One wrong move and if that bowl fell to the ground, it would never be able to be fixed. Her heart now lay on the ground, trampled on and wounded. Will my heart ever feel whole again?

The car ride was silent. Ron drove which was unusual because he had a tendency to almost completely fall asleep at the wheel as if he was a narcoleptic or something. However, he wanted to drive and Mary wanted to avoid round two. Half way to their destination, however, round two commenced.
“I don’t know how to make you happy. Everything I do is shit. I keep pushing my feeling aside and sucking it up and its never any good.” Ron exclaimed.
“Ron, you barely spoke to me this morning. It was like I wasn’t even there. Why are you treating me this way? You told me I looked nice, but you didn’t even look at me.” Mary retorted.
“I DID FUCKING LOOK AT YOU!” Ron screamed. Mary jumped at his reaction and internally feared that Ron might haul off and hit her even though he didn’t have a history of doing that. It was a past relationship that was physically violent which made her scared when any man raised his voice to her. They both silenced themselves again, until arriving at the home of James and Michelle. Mary exited the car and ran up stairs. Immediately looking herself in their bathroom, Mary lost it. She broke down and fits of hysterics because she had hoped the day wouldn’t come to this. Knowing that her prolonged presence in the bathroom would alert Ron to her unstable emotions, Mary quickly dried off her eyes and pulled herself together.
“We’re here.” She yelled to anyone who would listen. She was greeted by her son to be brother-in-law. “Top o’ the morning to you, Mary. What’s going on?” James excitedly expressed. This was just the type of corny colloquial response she expected to hear from him. Although he had been previously married, he acted as if he was a virgin on his twenty-first birthday who was about to get laid.
“I’m just here to drop off what you need. I’m heading over now to be with the bride! See you soon.” With that, Mary departed. She walked silently back to the vehicle and got in. Ron continued to drive in silence, slightly brushing her hand with his as if an attempted to make everything better. Mary gave him a half smile, hoping to try and salvage the day. She wasn’t even sure that was possible.
Mary knocked softly on the door. “Are you ready in there?” Michelle opened the door and looked stunning in her simple white halter wedding gown. She was wearing the diamond heart pendant that Mary had given her. The sisters looked at one another in such a way that words did not have to be spoken. Michelle grabbed her bouquet and Mary picked up the train of her dress. The pair headed downstairs. Mary walked through the beautifully decorated garden. The trees flowed with a white organza material that sparkled in the sunlight of the early afternoon. Fresh flowers and rose petals lined the aisle and even the guests wore an expression on their faces that spoke to the joy of the day. Mary took her place next to Ron, who had saved a seat for her. As the music played and Michelle walked down the aisle toward her forever, tears streamed heavily down Mary’s cheek. She smiled ever so proudly because today her little sis was starting her family. Mary caught a glimpse of Ron and wished that this is how their story would end. After the ceremony, everyone in attendance laughed and ate and wished their congratulations to the happy couple. Mary simply stood silently and let her tears hide behind her smile.

Ron and Mary drove home, again in silence. Mary took advantage of the time to think heavily about changing her life. She had come to realizations that had been more than cemented today regarding her future with Ron. Once they arrived home, they both changed out of their wedding attire. “Thank you for coming with me. I know it was horrendous for you. I really appreciate it.” Mary said quietly to Ron. She was determined to end the fighting and pull herself out of her self-pity party.
“You’re welcome.” Ron replied back.
Mary then walked into her office and sat in her favorite chair, and began to ponder on how to do what she knew she needed to.

Mom's Visit

Us having Dinner at the Melting Pot - Kirsten is taking the picture

My mom and Holly at hte Tulip Festival - thanks to the snow, we were too early to see the good stuff

Up near my old stomping grounds on Whidbey Island - I actually made my mom HIKE

Down on the Oregon Coast - Again, my old stomping grounds of Astoria


So as promised....here are some pictures from my mom's last visit to WA in April. Took for FOREVER to get them off my camera! My mom will be coming for another visit in a week or two! This time we hope to make it up to the Bite of seattle because I have never been there!

Love you Mom.

Another Writing Sample from Creative Writing.

Enjoy!

The Ghost of the Past Lives Here

The opaque darkness is always present and bone-chilling in this place that no one can seem to make heads or tails of. Many have tried but try as they might, all they have is a best guess for what is going on here. My doctor will admit that fact does not prevail and truth is open for interpretation. I close my eyes and see a helpless blackness until a vivid memory begins to play over and over like a movie. Sometimes the movie I watch is pleasant, reminding me of favorable times that bring a smile to my face or a happy tear to my eye. Other times the movie is haunting and even if I open my eyes in terror, the movie plays on. That is when I realize that no matter how far I have come, the ghost of the past lives here.
The thumping sound of rhythmic beating like the eternal ticking of a clock is reliable; it has never ceased thus far. The warm blood flows. Thick. I have a choice. I can feel light or I can feel heavy. When I feel light, I am surrounded by sun rays and daisies. When I feel heavy, though, I am surrounded by water, and I am drowning. I fight and fight to reach air and breathe but I can not. The darkness becomes eternal as suddenly I find my self locked in a cold cell. Have I died? How can I explain being surrounded by water in one moment and in another being locked in a jail? I can't, but nonetheless, here I am. The bars are made of cold, sharp steel that cuts into my hands making them bleed the reddest version of my blood that I have ever seen. Those bars are so strong that I can not escape them. I am trapped in the helpless with nothing but my thoughts. That is when I realize, no matter where I am, the thoughts will follow. The ghost of the past lives here.
Her office is inviting with her Remembrant paintings hung high with pride. Knowledge is overtly displayed with every leather-bound book penned by a Ph.D that is showcased in the mahognany bookcase. I sit comfortably in my chair with anxious feelings about what we will speak of today. My mind is rushing. Do I tell her? What will she say? What will she think? Why, God, am I sitting here? I have to escape but I can't. This is not a new situation, however. I have seen her before. Why would today's session be any different than last week's or the week before. It isn't. Anxiously I stand to my feet and reach for the door. Doctors have always made me nervous, and she is no different from those that came before her. But before I reach for the cold steel of the doorknob, trepidaously as if one grab will open the bleeding wounds on my imagined palms, she enters. After a moment, she tells me that our time is finished. She has done all that she can for me. It is now time for me to go into the world and live my life. Today. Not the life of yesteryear. How can I though, when in my mind and in my heart, the ghost of the past lives here?
"Dear child, the ghosts will always live here. They will never go away. Still, you have the strength to live at peace with your ghosts, as we all do. Go child, and prosper." she said to me.
She turned and walked out of her colorful office with her expensive paintings and books that mock me. I didn't know if I believed her, but I had to try. That's when I realized, no matter who we are, the ghost of the past lives here.

My First Writng Sample for my Creative Writing Class

I hope you guys enjoy it. Leave some comments!

The Woman in Me

When they say piles of poop stand taller than her, they were not lying. She is five feet even and although she is a squirt of a woman, I look up to her, both physically and figuratively. I’ve seen her physical appearance change through the years as I have changed with time. Her extremely fine dirty blond hair has been at times long, short, straight, and curly. It has been all shades of blond, brown, and red. The color did not matter to me. My favorite style was long and straight which made her rosy cheeks and golden green eyes sparkle; reminiscent of the days of her youth, before life and its challenges jaded her perception which took the sparkle away. Today, her hair is short and red. I believe hair is like a favorite pair of shoes that are worn until one day a new shiny pair commands attention. I am not fond of the “shoes” she chooses to wear these days. Time has been kind to her face as the wisdom of her years is not immediately reflected in the creases of her skin. When I look at her, I hope that life will bestow its kindness upon me, that I may retain my youthful look so that one might have to gaze deep into my eyes to see the wisdom of my years as I have to do to her. The most interesting physical feature she possesses is her hands. I’ve seen these hands before. They are the hands of my great grandmother, my grandmother, and my self. They are small yet strong. They are capable of so much and nothing at all. At times, they have held the world in their pale, creased palms.

Aside from her physical appearance, she has a “jene se qua.” Her presence commands attention when she enters a room. As a child I found an annoyance with her boisterous personality and inability to shut up. I thought of her as a typical New Yorker: loud, outspoken, and un-educated. As an adult, her sweet voice of concern still grates on my last nerve at times, but is, nonetheless, welcomed in my life. When I look in the mirror, I see her five-foot glory condensed into my four foot, ten inch body. She passed down to me not only her genetic trait of midget-ness but everything I ran away from as a kid. She has become and always was the woman in me. I began to appreciate her experiences of growing up in the poverty-stricken streets of Brooklyn which inspired an attitude of confidence that seems to transcend the expectation of anyone who meets her. I began to see how she stands as tall as she can and does not allow anyone to stand in her way. I understand why she fights vigorously for what she believes in. I felt compassion when she fell down teaching me to see her as the most imperfect person I know. Her loud voice, the one I hear in my deepest thoughts rings endlessly in my ears, reminding me of her faults which then helps me avoid mistakes of my own. She started out weak but over time has gained the inner strength that can not be knocked down. All of her achievements, the smell of sweet success, and all of her mistakes made her who she is today. She is a woman. She is a friend. She is my mother.

Back to School

So my week break is offically up. I was very sick at the beginning of it but now all is well - health wise atleast! School starts tomorrow - Summer Quarter - Then right after that - PLU here I come. Nothing is really new. Rob is coming for the summer. Not really sure how thats going to work out or even how I want it too. The war does change people, sadly, and absence does not always make the heart grow fonder. Sadly. Whatever happens, I am sure I will come out of it stronger and with a better sense of self. I have tremendous goals I am working toward so that is exciting. And....I have offically chosen the grad school I am dying to go to...NYU! Ofcourse I will apply to many many different schools but that is the gem in the crown of the school I want to finish my studies at. OK...Happy Summer everyone!

Busy Girl

So I have been completely busy with finishing this quarter and Rob coming back home. Things have been insane!

I am just about done with school. I have two more finals to take then 10 days of bliss. Holly is one week from completely the first grade...where does the time go? Rob is back in LA but coming back up for the summer as soon as he takes care of personal life business that has been ongoing for the past few years. As for me, after my 10 day vacation, back to school for the summer. I am taking History, Psych, and Creative Writing. Then in fall.....PLU!!!!!

I couldn't be happier about finally going to University. Once PLU is finished...hopefully I will be accepted to the graduate program at New York Univeristy.

Well, that is all. I have a new cell number...you all should have gotten a text with it. If not, email me and lets hang out!

Melancholy Mommy

I am just tired today. The first week of classes is over, and oh, did I mention I HATE my classes. I hate Anthropology - really what WAS I thinking when I took it a few years ago? I am only taking it again to get that horrible 0.0 off of my transcript. As for my lit class - WOW, my teacher ACTS lie she would be teaching a woman's lit class - very energetic and Bubbly, I want to smack her. Kenny is gone this weekend. My mom comes tomorrow and divorce papers have finally been filed. July 7th 2008, I will have my freedom of legal singleness coming. Its only took 3 years, right? Things are yoyo-ing with Rob again. Holly hurt her big toe, and somebody we all know did something ONCE AGAIN to hurt me and was very un-Christain-like. I was thinking about grace the other day. I try to be a person full of grace because much grace was given to me. Then I was thinking, are we just suppose to give grace freely? I mean, I know we give grace to a person when they want grace or need grace and are truly sorry for their actions but what about when someone does something to hurt us and they think they are in the right? No apology, no nothing - are we still obligated to give them grace? Anyway, I am melancholy tonight. I was hurt deeply in an email (different person) and now I am just going to sleep until my mom comes....dinner with Kirsten tomorrow night - finally a bright spot in my otherwise gloomy day.