Since that day in the fourth grade she knew that one day she would leave.  A boy in her class, Thomas Lee Henry said he’d be her boyfriend if she gave him her lollipop.  She hadn’t known it was a trick, she just wanted to be accepted but the other kids laughed at her.

After both of her her parents died of drug overdoses Lois was raised by her grandmother.  Gran was a good woman and she made sure that Lois always had food to eat and clothes to wear.  Gran never talked much, even when Lois would press her for information about her son, Lois’s Dad. 

The town was so small you could get the gossip on anyone just by going to the market.  You can imagine that Lois’s story dominated the talking circles.  The whole lot of them can rot in hell she thought as she packed her car up bound for some place far, far away from this hell hole.

She’d been saving the money she earned from babysitting, doing yard work and errands for people around town.  Focused and determined, she poured her hurt and anger into this plan. 

Finding a cheap hotel along the route, she took a break so she could get some food, rest and gas.  Looking over the menu at a local diner one of the desserts popped out to her, “Chocolate Charm”.  

She giggled, her new name presented itself like it’d been waiting for her.  With enough money to last her a few months, a new name, and a new life ahead, she felt unstoppable, free and finally able to live the life she’d dreamed about for so many years.

A few weeks went by, she’d found a place to live and a place to work in a big city.  No longer living in a small pond, she could hide amongst the masses of people.

She’d settled on a story to tell people if they asked about her background.  Her parents had died overseas while working as missionaries, so she was raised in a small orphanage where they mistreated the children.  When she was old enough, she escaped the orphanage, heading as far away from the place as she could. 

Charm Reardan  knew that she’d finally broken the barrier of her past and made a fresh start.  She had a new job, a new place to live and a new name.

She was sitting in a coffee shop planning her new life, pleased that she was finally free. 

A man walked in, looked at her very intently and smiled.  Later, he walked over to Charm to introduce himself.  She was friendly with him and they had a nice conversation.  He asked for her number.  Charm never dated much, she was too focused on her goal of getting away from town.

The idea made her nervous, she had sworn to herself that she would never tell anyone about her past.  The real story.  They began dating very casually, dinners here and lunch there.

Little did she know that out of all the places in the world she could have met someone, he was born and raised in the town she’d just left.

Without looking, without getting up, without trying to move at all, she recalled what had happened. Why she was here. Her wrists were sore from hours in restraints. Her veins felt tingly from the new medications coursing through her body. Her brain felt fuzzy and completely sharp at the same time. She felt like she could fight her way out of the room and the building. She didn’t move.

She closed her eyes. A car wreck. Broken ribs. Fractured jaw. Smashed knee. Swollen face. Everything hurt. She remembered the turn. The slick road. Checking her speed. The split decision to use the rain to slide off into the trees and creek. She thought she had been going fast enough. She thought she had been high enough. She thought she would hit a tree with enough force. But, she hadn’t. Being busted up from head to toe was bad enough, but the fact that she was still alive burned like fire.

Welcome to Passepar2 – a writer’s community where you can write daily, once a week or every once in a while – whatever fits your life. New posts will show up below this one as they are posted. Look around, read other writers’ work. Comment, give kind feedback. Let’s all help each other improve.

Use this community for practice or friendship or working on your next book. Keep your posts private if you want. Create your own groups and find people that are working on the same things as you.

After you create an account, you’ll want to start here for basic instructions on how the site works. Leave a comment on this post if you have any questions or requests.

Yet it will never be right.

Look away from the light,

it’s not quite.

I toss and I turn,

I yearn. 

For what I ask,

is it that I am supposed to LEARN?

Tired of the deal,

turning and turning but not the one

behind the wheel.

Stop your judgement,

stop your machine,

stop doing what you’ve always done.

I love him. Totally one hundred and ten percent love him.

I watch him place his laptop on his desk and stare at how his hair in front swooshes down and half covers his face. He pushes it back with his left hand, then brings his arm back to the desk in a continuous and smooth movement. His medium blue with tiny, slightly darker blue pin stripes, button-up dress shirt is a little tight across his chest, but in a really good way. Just look at the way the collar brushes against his neck. His neck is tone and tan.

Oh, crap. He just looked at me. Did he know I was staring? Can he tell how much I love him? He probably can. No, he can’t. He was probably looking at the wall behind me with the whiteboard on it. He was just checking everyone’s stats. It wasn’t me at all. I hope. How embarrassing.

But, I hope he really was looking at me because that would mean he knows I exist. We sit here everyday about 20 feet away from each other and he’s never said more than an offhand hello to me. I bet he doesn’t even know my name.

What a stuck up jerk. I can’t believe I thought I liked him. He doesn’t even have the courtesy to say a real hello in five months? He must think he’s all that, all right. He practically parades himself around the office. Oh, look at me! Look at me! I’m so handsome! My shirt is so nice! Look at my perfect hair!

Whatever. Like I don’t have enough work around here to keep me busy for ages. Like I have time to just look at him. And notice how long his eyelashes are. Or wish I could run my fingers through his wavy hair. Or see how nicely round his bum is whenever he gets up to fill his coffee mug.

Oh, god, he’s so handsome. I wonder what he thinks about me. Or if he does think about me at all. I’ve been here for months. He’s had to have formed some opinion of me.

Arrrrrrrrrg. Back to work. Back to work. Concentrate. These data sheets aren’t going to fill themselves out.

Wait, did he just look at me? He looked at me. That was definitely not the board. It was me. I saw his eyes hit mine for at least two whole seconds, which is practically a lifetime in eye contact.

Oh man oh man. What do I do now? Do I go over there? Introduce myself? Wouldn’t that seem awfully weird after having been around each other so long? Maybe I can just act like we’ve already met. I know his name.

Oh. Back to his work. I see how it is. Can’t even acknowledge me. Won’t even give me a smile or a wave. Just back to his work like we didn’t even look at each other for ages and ages. He was practically making love to me with his eyes and now he’s just going to go back and pretend like it never happened.

What a jerk. A real jerk, that guy. I can’t believe I wore this skirt hoping he’d notice it. Or these earrings. Like I care what he thinks. He’d never appreciate the tiny and tasteful glitter I used with my eyeshadow just for him. Whatever. Like I care. Back to work. Wait. Did he just look at me?

Paul felt Margot’s boot rub his leg under the table. He was sitting forward in his chair a bit so she could reach it easily from the other side. He smiled at her behind his beer when no one was watching. Margot smiled back. She had decided to stick with coffee so Paul could really celebrate if he wanted to.

Paul and Margot were sitting across from each other because when Margot had come back with some beers, the seats around Paul had been filled. The one on his left was taken by Monica, who was uncharacteristically quiet. Margot watched her glance up furtively to see Paul time and time again, every once in awhile looking up and fake-smiling at Margot.

After a few moments of trying to figure out what Monica was up to, Margot suddenly got it. And when she realized that Monica had the hugest of crushes on Paul, she actually snorted out loud. The thought that Paul would ever be with Monica was ludicrous. He could hardly stand her. At the sound of the snort, Monica quickly looked up and under Margot’s gaze, her face immediately turned red and she decided to concentrate on the rim of her martini instead of Margot.

Margot had a sudden feeling of pity wash over her. Poor Monica. So unhappy even when she had everything she wanted. And yes, Paul wasn’t the kind of guy to ever want to be with Monica, but if tonight was any indication, Margot could only imagine what she was normally like with him. For the hundredth time that night, Margot was so glad she came.

In an effort to smooth things out, Margot started up a conversation.

“Hey Monica,” she said loudly over the noise in the bar, “I wanted to tell you earlier that I love what you’re wearing. You look so pretty!”

Monica was taken aback. Her face was shocked and then she recovered. “Oh, well, thank you, Margot,” Monica replied, “The jacket is from a discount store….”

“Well, you’d never know,” said Margot, ‘It’s very, very nice.”

Monica gave her a small smile. Margot plunged ahead. “I thought Mark did such a great job tonight. He was really on his game!” Monica looked puzzled, then became wary.

“You think so?” Monica said in a tight voice, “Well, right. He was pretty amazing,” and just like that, she was oozing the old Monica charm. “Mark’s been working out like crazy. You wouldn’t even believe how much he can bench press. You’d die, I’m serious. Die.” Without looking at him, Monica said, “Mark, honey, could you go get me another drink? And tell them that this time, I’d like it to actually have some gin in it.” Mark took her empty glass from her outstretched arm and did as he was asked.

Margot thought she’d push things a bit further. “You know what, Monica? That Mark of yours is quite a catch. He’s so sweet to do everything you ask him to do. And handsome, I mean, look at him! And it’s clear he adores you. I’d hang on to him, if I were you,” Margot smiled innocently at Monica, who looked confused. Margot was aware that Paul had caught that part of the conversation and was now paying attention to them, but she didn’t break her gaze away from Monica.

Margot continued, “I mean, I could think of so many women that would snatch him up in a second! You better keep an eye out, is all I’m saying,” and Margot gave her a wink.

Just them, Mark came back with her martini and a few beers for the table. Margot raised her coffee towards Monica. “Here’s to us and the men we love,” said Margot, “and to keeping other women way from them.” Monica raised her glass followed by Paul, then Mark. Monica gave Margot one last odd look, then drank along with everyone else. As she set her drink on the table, Monica looked at Mark. She smiled and leaned over to give him a peck on the cheek. Mark looked as pleased as punch.

Paul and Margot’s eyes met. Her boot under the table ran up and down his leg. They didn’t say anything. They didn’t have to. They both knew they had moved past the pettiness of the past few months. They also knew that they would leave as soon as possible, go home and make love like crazy monkeys.

The End

Objectives –

~Mention coffee and chairs in every scene.
~Don’t ever indicate what the Game is the guys play.
~Don’t describe what any of them look like, but I cheated with the description of the guys physique.

When the game ended, Margot cheered as loud as everyone else. They had won and it seemed like a perfect way to end the night. She couldn’t wait to give Paul a congratulatory kiss. She picked up her purse and pulled the top of her boots straight. They almost hit her knees and Margot wore them only when she wanted to look particularly sexy. Paul’s sweater looked pretty nice on her, if she did say so herself. The buttons were a little big for current fashion, but she hadn’t ever cared about that stuff. It felt great to be wearing it and for Margot, that’s all that mattered.

As Margot picked her way carefully down the risers, she felt someone grab her elbow.

“Margot!” said Monica, “It’s so nice to see you! You haven’t been to any of this year’s games, have you?” Monica had a way of dragging out the vowels in most of her words, making everything she said sound sarcastic to Margot.

Margot forced a smile. “Nope, I haven’t.”

“Well, you picked a great night to come. Of course, the season’s almost over, so….,” Monica let her voice trail off but looked pointedly at Margot.

“It’s been great catching up, Monica, but I’ve got to get going. I’m meeting Paul for drinks,” said Margot, as she tried to turn and face the ground before walking to ward off any high-heel mishaps.

“Oh, honey,” replied Monica, “you go ahead and look where you’re going. Those stripper boots are hard to stay up on.”

Margot tensed and made her self breathe a few times before turning back around. “Is that what you’ve found, Monica? Have you fallen much?” Then Margot flashed her a big smile, turned to the front, and began to walk down the stairs again, hurrying as fast as she could away from Monica without falling on her ass.

Once on the ground, she looked up and beelined it over to Paul. He saw her coming and walked towards her.

“Babe! I can’t believe you came!” said Paul, and he leaned down to kiss her. Mark came up behind him. “You look unbelievable,” Paul whispered in her ear before turning to Mark.

“Hey! Margot!” Nice to see you around these parts,” Mark said, “Did you see Monica up there?” And suddenly, there Monica was, right behind Mark and shouldering her way into the center of everyone.

“Well, baby, can you believe what the cat dragged in?” asked Monica, “I thought Margot would never be caught dead here. She hasn’t been here to watch Paul in so long.”

Paul gave Monica a sharp look and was about to say something when Margot jumped in. “You know, Monica, you’re right? I mean, look at this man! And he’s mine, all mine,” and with that, Margot leaned up and gave him a seriously deep kiss. After a shocked second or two, Monica insisted that Mark get her away from them and take her to the bar, which Mark must have done because suddenly it was quiet and all Margot knew was that she hadn’t felt this happy in a long, long time.

The first thing Paul noticed when he got to the game was that Margot was there. He was almost afraid to blink his eyes in case he was imagining it, but No! there she was in the stands and smiling at him. The second thing he noticed is that she was wearing his old sweater.

He had just seen that sweater the other day in the crawl space when he went searching for his box. It took him a little time to find the box under some college text books. He knew it was there. He just couldn’t remember exactly where he’d stashed it. When he saw his sweater under Foundations of Dogmatics from his second year of Theology, he suddenly remembered he had wrapped the box inside it about five years ago when they moved out of the city.

For some reason, he had never shown his box to Margot. He wasn’t hiding it exactly, he just wasn’t bringing it out in the open. Until last week, when he wrapped the box back up in the sweater and stashed them on the top shelf of the bedroom closet. Maybe a step closer to sharing it with her? Maybe. But obviously, she must have seen it because she was wearing the sweater. Maybe her finding it that way was for the best.

Mark came and sat on the bench next to Paul.

“So, you up to kickin’ some ass tonight? Eh?” asked Mark, and he socked Paul in the shoulder.

“Hey, Mark. I need to tell you something. I think this will be my last game with the team,” whispered Paul.

“Wait, what?” asked Mark.

“Lower your voice, dummy!” Paul whispered loudly. “I don’t want everyone to know yet!”

Mark lowered his voice but had obviously been taken off guard. “What do you mean? You love the game. I know you do! Why would you give it up?” Paul looked down, not quite sure how to answer. “Oh, buddy,” continued Mark, “are you hurt or something? Sick?”

“No,” replied Paul. “we can talk more about it later. I probably should have waited to tell you til after the game, anyway,” Paul looked back up at Margot who rewarded him with a 2-finger whistle and a big smile. Paul thought he’d never seen anyone more beautiful in his life. “C’mon. Let’s get our heads in the game.”

In the stands, Margot wiped her spitty fingers off on her new jeans and laughed to herself. Paul had looked so surprised and then, so happy. She was already thanking her lucky stars she’d decided to come. This was going to be good. She used to always come and watch Paul’s games. When did she stop? And, why? She couldn’t remember. But she was glad to be back as the excitement in the air filled her lungs.

Part way through the game, Margot became aware of someone staring at her. There was a woman to her left and a few rows up that kept looking her way. Margot couldn’t get a good look at her face. She craned her neck a little further in a completely obvious way, and finally saw who it was. Mark’s wife, Monica. Their eyes locked for the briefest of moments before Margot pulled her head back and Monica looked forward.

Monica. Monica, Monica, Monica. Margot tried to recall what she knew about the woman. Well, she knew that she wasn’t fond of her. It was obvious they weren’t going to be friends the minute they met. Mark and Monica had come with them on a weekend trip to the beach and Monica hadn’t stopped complaining from the moment they left until, well, maybe now as far as she knew.

Margot had decided after about five minutes on the road that no, they would not be friends. Not even acquaintances, or Margot was sure she would go crazy with all the catering they all had to do for Monica. I need a drink. No, a colder drink. Ugg, this drink doesn’t taste fruity enough. No, I need strawberries! until Margot was having a hard time just breathing in a regular manner.

She hadn’t thought about Monica in so long. When Mark married Monica, they no longer did couple things together because of how Margot felt about her. She knew that Paul and Mark still hung out, obviously. Mark was a nice enough guy. And then she wondered if Monica went with the team to have beers after the game and if so, how could anyone stand to have her there?

Margot went back to watching her husband doing a magnificent job kickin’ ass. She noticed how cute he looked in his uniform. How his muscular legs bulged slightly, in a good way, under the cloth. How his strong arms flexed as he played. She wondered why she hadn’t noticed that for such a long time.

Margot sipped her travel mug filled with coffee and vanilla creamer. It warmed her hands and helped keep the crisp air at bay. Then she rubbed her knee and cursed the wobbly chair from earlier that afternoon.

Paul had spent the past few hours in his chair with his feet propped up on the desk, arms folded and staring at the ceiling. Mark had come in once to use the copier and the shredder and another time to bring Paul a fresh cup of coffee.

Mark knew something was up. Paul could tell by how often he asked, How are things going, P? and What’s up buttercup?, but he just didn’t have the energy to try and play act everything as fine. Instead he grunted a fine and a good whenever one was needed.

The phone rang and Paul jumped, his foot knocking the mug of coffee to the floor. Cursing, he wiped what he could with a few tissues and answered the phone. It was one of his clients canceling a walk-through in the morning. He hardly cared.

Paul hung up and finished dabbing at the carpet, probably making things worse. He stopped moving, his arm poised just above the floor, and made the decision he had been wrestling with all afternoon. He would quit. Quit the team. It just wasn’t worth it. He loved Margot too much and was tired of having to make the same choice week after week to not cheat. He didn’t want to see Monica anymore. Didn’t want her hanging around, trying to sidle up next to him. He didn’t want the distraction or the temptation and he’d had enough.

His mind made up, Paul suddenly felt incredibly better. Yes, he would miss hanging out with Mark, but they could always do something else on another night. He would miss the entire team, but really, they didn’t know him that well or he them. He could join any league and have just as much fun.

But tonight? He better play tonight. One last time. It wouldn’t be cool to just blow off the game an hour before it was supposed to start. The team was counting on him and he was the kind of man that followed through.

Paul grabbed the duffel bag under his desk and went to change into his uniform.

Margot struggled a little with the lid. A dent along one side seemed to hold it in place. She jiggled it a little and used her fingernail to finally get it off. Inside was a jumble of papers, awards and old photos. Margot glanced through them quickly, then decided to take everything out and have a better look.

There were a few worn and faded award certificates for things like Most Improved and Great Attitude with smiley stickers along the sides from elementary school. There was a folded single sheet of paper which seemed to be a debate rebuttal against no off-campus lunches.

The corner of yellow paper stuck out near the bottom of the pile and Margot pulled it out and unfolded it. She recognized it. It was a flirty note she had written to Paul when they first started dating. It was a candy-gram and the missing masking tape where the candy had been pulled off left the paper super thin in spots.

Hey Mighty Man (M&Ms) ~
You’re such a Sweet(tart) and so HOT(Tamales)!
Your Baby(Ruth),
Margot

Margot smiled thinking of the date they had had that weekend. It was their second date and Paul had taken her to go ice skating. It was so cold, they had been bundled up to a ridiculous level and had hardly been able to move, let alone skate. After falling down a thousand times and struggling to get up a thousand times, they decided to waddle over to the coffee shop across the street and sit in the warmth with a cuppa for awhile. They had peeled off layer after layer of sweaters and thermal pants, piling them on a chair until it fell over under the weight.

It had been so nice to be in Paul’s company. He was fun and easy to talk to and a great listener, too, not like so many of her previous boyfriends. Margot had made the candy-gram later that weekend as a thank you for the date. She had hoped to incentivise him into asking her out plenty more times, which he did. It worked.

Margot folded the paper back up but paused when she saw some scribbled writing on the back. Paul had written “This is the girl. She’s the one.”

Tears sprang to Margot’s eyes. She hadn’t known he’d written that or that he kept it and it was in this box with all his keepsakes. Or that he even had a box of keepsakes. She found some photos of his parents and one of him and his brother, Nick, when they must have been 6 and 7. Besides the couple of photos they had placed on the wall in the living room, she hadn’t known there were any others. The memories were just too hard.

There was also a red toy tractor in the box that must have been from the same time as the photo. She looked closer at the photo and saw the tractor on the grass near Nick. She wiped away her tears and started to place the rest of the items inside.

Margot’s thoughts went back to earlier that day and she was ashamed. Of all the stupid things to argue over. Book club? She didn’t even like most of the people there. She almost never liked the book selection, this time being an exception. What had she been so adamant about?

Margot checked her watch. 4:50pm. She was supposed to leave 5 minutes ago. It was her turn to help set out the food. But she wasn’t feeling like going. Not really. Earlier she would have made herself go anyway, just to prove a point. But now?

Margot thought it over. She looked at the pile of sweaters on the bed. The new pair of jeans on the floor. The high-heeled, brown leather boots she was going to wear. After a moment, she grabbed her favorite sweater and got dressed as fast as she could.