You hear music in the background - April 25, 2011

I must have dozed off, when I awoke things seemed foggy, especially my thoughts. It was as if time stopped for just a moment, the air stood still, like the whole room held its breath, waiting, wondering, guessing whether I'd recognize my surroundings or the time of day. After blinking a bit, I rubbed my eyes to clear the cobwebs and though I still saw through blurry, dirty eyes, I began to put the pieces together. In the background, of what I thought at first was my mind, I heard music, a piano playing softly, somewhere. I wondered at first if I'd brought it with me from my dream, and then, if I'd dreamed at all. No, in my dream I'd been....I'd been....wait, what had been a dream, what had I been doing...a piano. 

Piano. 

In the distance I heard music, a piano, it was coming from downstairs. I was awake now, for sure, I knew it, awake. I sat up quickly. "Someone is playing the piano" I whispered. Confused in the way only a midday snooze can arrange. Beethoven..Sonata...No.14... 

Jacklyn. Jacklyn must be playing, Portia must be dancing. 

I got up and noticed the weather had changed, the storm was on it's way, light grey clouds covered the land and let off mists of rain. In the distance dark grey clouds rolled in, and fell from the sky in great big chunks of wet. "Windows." I would check them later but first "I'm cold". I grabbed the grey blanket and found my slippers, downstairs Jacklyn slipped and missed a key but picked up where she'd left off as if it had never happened. That girl would push on until there were no mistakes left to make and she would never make another one ever again. Especially not ever the same one. 

When I reached the top of the stairs I saw that I was right. Jacklyn sat at the keys, draped in a thick black shawl, her hair high up, tightly wound in a bun, without a hair out of place. I saw the delicate line of her neck and watched as she ever so slightly swayed with each note she tapped. Her feet were bare, they must have been cold. In front of her on the cold rose marbled floor, Portia stood in third position, pink ballet slippers tied tight, peach nylons and black leotard. She also wore her hair on top of her head, but in a much looser ponytail that had at the last minute been tucked back into the elastic. Portia was flawless. She never had to make a mistake to learn not to make it again, she just never seemed to do anything wrong. Any stumble she turned into choreography and with each point of a toe, stretch of a finger, or turn of the neck, she taught love. I rested my elbows on the banister, my chin in my hand and found myself swaying, marveling at my luck. Benjamin sat at the bottom of the stairs, he had a book open in his lap, but turned over resting on his knees, he gazed off, just above Jacklyn's head, lost in thought. Benjamin looked like his father but with lighter hair. He was built like him as well, thick and strong, with the kindest face ever imagined and a heart to match, just like his father. He noticed me then and smiled, such a smile to finally wake me from my dream. Jacklyn finished the song, Portia, bent straight over from the waist, nose to knee, arms crossed at the wrist, hands splayed delicately on the floor in front of her.

Write about eating a meal - April 5th, 2011

She sat in bed propped up against three pillows. In her hands she fiddled with the beaded necklace, she'd been told amethyst and the crystals that made up the necklace would help with the pain she was feeling in her back and ribs. Shingles, is what the doctor had called it, daggers was more how she'd describe it. Or tiny flamed arrows shooting into her ribcage and setting tiny little fires under her skin. Not to mention the strain and sprain she felt in her elbow and wrist every time she went to lift a cup of tea. What had started as discomfort in the middle of her back had turned into a pain so ferocious she had not ever felt anything like it. Not even child birth, though Daniel had been particularly painful, and big, could compare to the aching and burning and anticipation for such, that she felt now. So here she sat, resting against her pillows, bored right out of her mind. 

She had an Easter dinner to prepare as well, a menu to complete, ham to select, potatoes to peel, tables to set. Chocolate eggs to hide. 

Instead she sat and sat and sat.

Persie had brought her some soup but Anna's mind was so set on a different kind she could scarce enjoy it, though at one time or another it had been her favourite kind. One of Thomas' friends had brought back with him, after taking a tour through Turkey, some foreign spices and Anna had made up a carrot cumin soup. A hit throughout the house and yet today all she could think of was ham and ham bones and split peas and split pea and ham soups. The Easter meal was consuming her and even the spicy aroma emanating from the pumpkin coloured soup beside her could do nothing to take her mind from it. She rang a bell and, had Persie not been so sweet to look at, Anna might have thrown the soup bowl at her out of sheer frustration and boredom. 

"You can take this, Persie, I am not hungry. I am however, considering scaling the walls, though I'm sure the movement of throwing my legs over the side of this bed would incite riots throughout my body and I would explode right here on the spot."

Persie went to remove the tray from Anna's nightstand, hesitated, thought better of asking a question pertaining to the Easter feast and backed away. Anna, attuned to noticing anything different than the four walls that had surrounded her this past week, noticed and putting a hand on Persie's forearm, raised an eyebrow.

"I was just wondering if I could get you anything else, my dear, anything else to eat, or read, or perhaps your notebook to write in?" Persie had put the tray back onto the nightstand and had now placed her hand on Anna's forehead. 

Anna was suddenly angry and with that anger came an idea, a way to perhaps soothe some of her frustration. "Yes, fetch me Jacklyn please, tell her to bring a pen and paper and to come at once."

Write about a brief ecounter - February 15, 2011

When Anna was younger she used to spend the summers at her Aunt Phillis' farm. She loved the farm, she enjoyed getting up early to help Uncle Joe feed the chickens and the pigs. She loved feeding grass to the cows by hand, the way they chewed so lazily out the sides of their mouth, how one strand of wheat could take so long to eat. She loved helping Phillis with the baking and the cooking and she loved her bedroom upstairs with the window that looked out over everything. She would sit on her windowsill, and look out on the land, long after all the lights had been turned off and everyone else had fallen asleep. She could sometimes see the pigs change position, snuggle up to each other and occasionally a lone lost chicken would peck his way around outside his pen. This chicken quickly became her favourite, he had a blue rubber band around his foot, she guessed sometimes he went further than the farm and this blue band was a way to get him home if anyone stumbled upon him. She felt a kinship to this chicken, like if she'd been a chicken she would want to wander too, she understood his quest for quiet, some alone time...She would usually doze off this way and wake to the call of a rooster. 

Anna loved the farm. Her favourite part of all though was when the Radley boys would come to pick up milk and eggs. There were three Radley boys, Joey, Marcus and Matthew, Matthew was the youngest, a year or so younger than her, Joey was the oldest and Marcus was just a scoundrel. The first time she'd seen them she'd been cleaning out the pigs trough, elbow deep in sludge she went to wipe a hair from tickling her nose and noticed a pair of legs in front of the fence. When she looked up she saw a little boy in a cowboy hat chewing on straw. 

"Well Hello there, little girl" Matthew said with a southern drawl. 

"Well....hello there to you too." Anna replied. 

"What are you doing in there?" The drawl fading.

"Well..." Anna fought between rudeness or friendliness, "I'm cleaning out Welly's trough, what does it look like!" she smiled larger than necessary seeing that she so desperately wished she could take back the last thing she said. She hadn't meant to be rude but what did it look like she was doing?

Matthew snorted and laughed "Oh, I guess you're right! Looks gross." 

Before she could answer, Matthew's older brother called from near the barn. 

"Well, I best be going," again with the accent, "It was a pleasure to  meet you, girl." and he tipped his hat as he turned to go.

"Anna" she yelled after him, "my name is Annabelle." 

Matthew stopped and turned back around, this time he removed his hat and took a small bow "Well then I guess it was nice to meet you, Anna Annabelle."

What a silly little boy, she thought. 

Every morning - March 31, 2011

Every morning he holds me. Every morning, when I've put off getting up for long enough, and take my legs out from under the covers, or grab my shirt from the floor beside the bed, he wraps his arm around my stomach and pulls me back to him. Sometimes he grabs the shirt and throws it away and then wraps his arm around me, pulling me in, cupping my breasts. He pushes up to me and I am helpless. 

Every morning I plan on waking earlier, on getting out of bed and starting my day before it becomes afternoon, so much time keeps passing and we just lay here. Sometimes I think these days aren't wasted because I am building a future foundation. I've spent so much time alone, I deserve some time in some one's arms. Sometimes I think the world is going to end, like they say, and so why shouldn't I lay in bed all day with this man's arms wrapped tightly around me, his hands seeking every crook and cranny of my body. This man who would devour my every cell if it were possible to do so while still leaving me whole. This man who is too good for me. This man whose heart is too pure for me to be in charge of, I fear.

Every morning we lay there, my breasts and stomach pressed against his back, my lips on his shoulder, thighs and knees locked into his, or his chest against my back, his legs spooned into mine, his nose and mouth, breath on my neck. For a few minutes I let myself feel as lucky as I am, I close my eyes and balance on that point of sleep and wake only it's not sleep that wants to take me under, it's bliss, it's bliss and life and every morning I get to travel through them both like a crashing wave.

It was a rainy day. - April, 4, 2011

Yes it was. 

She sat on the window seat, her forehead pressed against the glass, lost in the weather outside. For awhile her thoughts were none, her head blank, almost as if she were asleep, except for the cold window pressed on her head, and the sound of the rain as it fell all around. 

The fire crackled loudly behind her, and as if waking from a dream she shrugged off the cobwebs that had closed around her brain. Love, is what she had been thinking about originally, at her desk in front of the other window, closer to the warmth of the fire. She'd been questioning love, or more precisely, the love she felt for Thomas. She loved him, she was sure of that, but there was something distinctly missing, she was not crazy about him. I've been crazy over someone or another for all of my life, I am content now just to be happy. She was happy, the happiest she thought she'd ever been. She rose from her desk, grabbed the red cashmere throw and sat down at the window to think. From where she sat she could see down the hill and across to the lake, she went into a daze as she watched the lake get pelted with raindrops. No one out there today, no deer even lapping at it's edge. She tucked her toes under the blanket and pressed her head against the glass, and there she stayed for quite some time. 

Perhaps it was because it had never happened before or perhaps it was that it wasn't what she thought she wanted. Perhaps it was because it wasn't what was supposed to happen, or perhaps it was just her inherent need to self destruct. Vanity, selfishness, an inability to let all the others go, who knew.

She unwrapped herself and stretched, the house was empty and she went down to the kitchens to make a cup of tea. Down here the rain sounded louder, some how, as it poured down on the tin roof of the kitchen sheds, she realized a window was open. Before going to close it she put water on the stove to boil, reaching the window she placed her hand outside to feel the rain. It was unseasonably cold for April and her hand soon went numb, she lost herself in thought again and only came too when the water on the stove started to hiss as it boiled over and hit the heat. She woke suddenly and snatched her freezing, raw hand inside and pushed the window shut. 

Perhaps it was just a melancholy sort of day.

Write about taking the long way round - March 22, 2011

Do you think, in a way, every way is the long way round.

We seem to think we always know what we want.

Or knew what we wanted.  

But we take the long way round to find what we need isn't at all what we want. 

Or we take the long way round to see what we never wanted is indeed exactly what we need.  

Though the short cut  remains appealing.

Always.

This is where she left it, with nothing left to say, her thoughts went from one to the other, as they always did. Putting down the pen and closing her journal, she placed the leather bound book in the second drawer on the left side of her desk. 

Just as she began to lock the drawer a scene flashed before her eyes and she let out a giggle. Opening the drawer she fetched her journal and flipped back a few pages. 

Sunday, Springtime.

Thomas leaned forward, captivated by the two men below. Boys will be boys, I thought. He turned and asked "Which one is the alpha male?" 

I looked on, pondering, at first I was going to say the dark skinned man, as he seemed so much stronger, but then changed my mind to the light skinned man for he seemed so determined and passionate. 

Just as I was about to answer "I don't know" he turned around with a grin and pointed at me, "It's a trick question" he said, "they  are both alpha males, that's why they're colliding." And with a nod and a smirk he looked away.

I laughed, once again taken aback by this man I so constantly deem less intelligent than myself. Once again he'd surprised me with his humour and timing and ability to pull me along at a pace I am never able to set.

"Oh, Thomas." 

Anna closed the book and locked it away in her drawer, pausing a moment to watch out the window as her husband played with his nephews in the front yard. She felt a warmth and contentment somewhat new to her, even though they'd been married over a year now, and she wondered if this warmth was what love was. The absolute comfort of continually being surprised by someone you continually want to be beside. 

It had been less than an hour since he'd kissed her cheek and left her to write, she could bare it no longer. Pulling her hair back and taking her slippers off  "it's a no shoes kind of day" she said, she went to join the festivities outside. As soon as she was close enough he pulled her to him and squeezed her tight, she breathed in the warmth. And as he greeted her, "Hello, gorgeous!", they were bombarded with nieces and nephews and forced to give chase as cries of "TAG! You're it!" rang out.

It was noon and nothing was concluded - January 18, 2011

"I've had enough of this today, tomorrow, and for the rest of my life."

"Well, son, it is a very important -"

"NO! That's the thing, it isn't. It isn't important to anyone but you." Incredulous, Thomas raises his voice.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, dear, and am also unsure how you can feel that way." A statement only, for she wasn't interested in the answer.

"We live in the middle of nowhere, mama, no one cares anymore about royalty or tradition. The people in this town, this county, want work and safety, that is all. They do not care who marries who or what goes on in the big house on the big hill so long as there is food on their tables and warmth in their beds, smiles on their babes."

"But Thomas, we are running out of time.."

"Time? What time? What has time to do with anything, you simply want to be rid of me, or rid of the gossip your little old lady friends whisper about around your knitting circle."

"Thomas!" Finally raising her own voice. "I am still your mother and you will speak to me with respect and you will speak of those in my life with kindness. Now, this is not debatable any longer, you will begin actively pursuing someone suitable to take this family's name and help carry on it's legacy."

"I am not interested in marriage for marriages sake, Mother, and neither were you."

He never liked playing this card, bringing up his father to buy himself more time. And to be honest he could see nothing wrong with marriage and did understand where his mother was coming from, but there was no way he was marrying the Drake's oldest fattest sister, the George's youngest with the limp, or even the beautiful but oh so very dull and droll Ramsay girl. 

Having softened her up a bit, Thomas placed a hand on his mother's knee and got down on his own, "Mother, let me find her by fluke, by fate, the time is come for things to change and I, I am sorry, but I will not change my mind this time."

Before she could answer they were interrupted by Thomas' cousin David, bursting through the doors, all light and air and noise.

"David!"

"Cousin David, impeccable timing, as usual." Thomas said, whispering the last. 

"Auntie Tanner" David, the devilish charmer to Thomas' kind one, bent to kiss his aunt on the cheek.

"Oh, David  you know I hate when you call me that."

"You love it!" And following with his smile, the matter dropped. Thomas' mother, seduced by her nephew's twinkling smile, let the matter go and all but forgot what was going on in the first place, before mischief broke through the doors. "I was wondering if I might take my cousin Thomas here out for a ride."

"You flatter me, David, whether you ask permission or not, I fear the days of Thomas listening to me are long gone. Go on, get out and enjoy the day." And as though the  mention of Thomas' name brought back their conversation she said this through pursed lips, the smile vanishing like it had never once crossed her lips in all her life.

Blue - the colour or the emotion. - February 18, 2011

When Benjamin was born, someone had knit him a pair of blue booties, and they hung now from her dresser. She would spend, what seemed like anyways, hours staring at these blue booties, not really thinking at all, until someone would enter the room and break her trance. Most often it was her husband, coming with news of new sounds Benjamin had made, or how he was sure, this time for sure, a smile had crossed their sweet baby boys lips. For awhile she feinted interest, pride, joy, but as the weeks passed she lost even the energy for that.

What she had gained though, seemingly impossible as it were, was an even greater love and respect for her husband and his patience with her. She relished the times he'd join her in bed, laying beside her, stroking her arm or brushing her hair. She had very easily, and quickly, fallen in love with him at the start, and despite the ups and downs that met them along their path, she loved him more each day. This conflicted, greatly, with what she assumed the cause of her current state of melancholy was. David and his new bride had set off on a world tour with no date, time or place of return. And although over the years she hadn't seen him often, and in fact only once on her own, there was always that beam of light whenever his name was ushered or he graced them with his presence.

It had almost been a year since Benjamin was conceived, how different Septembers could be, this one mimicking her mood, grey, dreary, wet, last years bright, hot, sunny, emulating those times as well. It was late September when they'd made Ben and summer clung on with it's talons. Anna had been so hot and thirsty as Thomas' breath changed from waking to sleeping, leaving her alone in her haze, she ventured down to the kitchens. David sat, leaning back in his chair hands folded behind his head, at the table all alone, two glasses in front of him. He didn't seem surprised to see her and joked he'd been expecting her, that she would surely need refreshments after...well "....after." He'd said with a grin, alluding to the fact he'd heard her and Thomas upstairs. He pushed a glass towards her, and unsure whether she should be mortified, aroused, or nervous, she was distracted by a door closing down the hall to the left. She glanced that way and he slid the glass towards her again. "Here, sit."

They stayed up til the sun rose, taking a walk around the grounds, raiding the fridge, him explaining things she had never known, like why the maze had been made, which tree had been planted first in the orchard and why. How her mother and father in law, the latter she had never met, were inspirations to any hopeless romantic and how his aunt had only turned sour after losing her husband. When the time finally came for her to go back to bed he touched her hand, grabbed it actually and they stood there for a moment, eyes locked, saying nothing. She searched her mind for something to say but found it had up and left leaving only her heart to skip its beats. Finally she bit her lip and looked away.

"I'm sorry for dirtying your dress." He said squeezing her hand and letting it drop, never breaking his gaze. He moved towards her, she froze, and he kissed her cheek. "Goodnight, cousin." Her eyes were closed and she hadn't opened them until he was gone.

She opened them and looked down, my dress, she thought "...my dress?" She looked after him but he was gone. Her dress was in fact only her nightie and was as clean as it had been when she'd pulled it out of the drawer.  "My dress?" and placing her fingers to her cheek, to the spot he'd kissed, it all came back. Her heart jumped up and over and she exhaled with a laugh. She threw her head back "Oh David" and shook it. The day they'd first ever crossed paths, down by the river, months before she'd fallen in and Thomas had rescued her, David had rode hard past her, splaying her with mud. "Oh." He'd said, quite unconcerned after she'd let out a growl. "OH?! Look what you've done to my dress!" And then he winked, grinned, and rode away.


They had never spoken about that day, that time, Anna had come to believe he hadn't known it was her, had never put it together. But now, now she knew he had, she knew he knew and so she was given something to hold on to, something to cling to this nonexistent love affair. He knew, he remembered, he's known all along. He thinks of me then...he thinks of me like I think of him. And his never having mentioned it before was only another sign of his guilt, of his mind and heart holding strong to that moment, to the only real moment she had ever felt. To the only moment they could go to without the guilt because Thomas had not existed for her that day, and neither her for him. Yes, his not acknowledging it has done the opposite of what he's intended, she thought, he has been suffering too. She went back to bed, before crawling in she took off her nightgown and climbing in, pressed her naked body on to Thomas. She wrapped her arm around him and put her hand between his legs. They made quick, soft love and she fell asleep before he even drew out of her. He knew not that she'd ever left the bed.  

David left later that day and didn't return for four months. When he came back, he wasn't alone.

Everything was so confusing to her, she loved her husband, that was undeniable, and yet had ached for his cousin for all these years. She'd had this baby whom she could not love and wanted, more now than ever, to be alone with her husband at all times and now David was gone, gone on some honey moon with some girl she would never love or even like. Blue couldn't even begin to describe her mood these days.

Write about a secret revealed. - March 9, 2011

The second passed, and then the next, silence. What was more than likely only a second or two, dragged into a lifetime, hers in fact. As the words slipped out of Marrissa's mouth, as those last two sounds tipped out of the pot and dripped off her tongue, she fell back into the past. Suddenly she was by the river that fateful day so long ago, and next she was by the apple tree where Thomas got down on one knee, then the kitchen, David's hand on hers. Then the kiss. And quicker now, in faster flashes as the first second dragged into the next, realizing she had to say something, her silence dragging out the guilt. Flash flash flash, David, Thomas, Bethany, water, mother, David...Thomas. Thomas.

Opening her eyes she saw before her her daughters, Jaclyn and Portia, and her sister in law Marrissa. It had been an honest mistake, a secret kept hidden for more than 35 years revealed. Jaclyn, of course, stared at her mother with what could of been shock or disgust, or pain even. Portia, on the other hand, of course, smiled, a knowing, kind smile. Portia always understood everything and if she didn't, she tried. Marrissa, in tears, hand over mouth, coughed and broke the silence.

"Well, I guess we weren't meant to take that to the grave." Anna said, attempting to bring humour to fight the first bit of battle. Humour, the champion in any corner.

Portia first, always Portia, reached out and placed a hand on her mothers knee. "Oh Mama, how horrible it must of been, and exhilarating!" she added with a look of excitement.

Jacklyn seemed mortified now, perhaps with the images of her mother and father's cousin finally settling in behind her eyes.

Marrissa: "I am so sorry Annabelle! I can not believe after all this time this is how it came out."

"Yes, well, thank god it is just the four of us!" she giggled, "Jaclyn, can you say something? Please, dear." And now it was Anna reaching out to Jacklyn's knee. "I loved your father very much and he loved me. We were happy....a happy I could have never imagined before meeting him."

"Then why Uncle David?"

Anna thought and began to shake her head. "These things just happen. Sometimes, they just happen." she shrugged.

"So how? What happened-" Portia began but Anna could only shrug. "But...well tell me everything. Start at the beginning."

Anna squeezed Jaclyn's leg and bent closer to look her straight in the eye, "Jaclyn, will you listen to my story before you judge me? It's a love story, like you love. It's just this one has three people instead of two."

"But that's impossible, love stories can never end happily with three people."

"Can you give me the chance? If you give me the chance perhaps you can help me make sure this one does."

Jaclyn raised her eyes to meet her mothers, Anna gave her a reassuring nod, goading her to come along for the ride. Jaclyn caved by looking down and muttering "ok."