by Hammond, T.
“Bag and tag huh?” I asked with a lifted brow.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to get flippant about this. This is important. I got nervous, I guess.” He rested his forehead against mine. “When I’m old, I want to be holding your hand in mine. You are IT for me. The embodiment of every fantasy, dream, and half-formed thought. I want to marry you.”
“David, I love you. I belong to you already - ring or no ring. Marriage certificate or not, I fully intend to wake up fifty years from now sharing your pillow.”
A cell phone rang, not a ring tone I recognized. David went still beside me. “Sorry Teresa, I have to take this call.” This cell phone was ringing from his brand new laptop case, so I knew it wasn’t his regular phone, which he kept clipped to his belt. This was the first indication I had that he owned more than one.
“Preston,” He said, abruptly. He listened to the caller, making no comment until, “I’ll catch the first plane I can. I’ll call you back when I have details.” He disconnected the call.
“What’s up?” I asked. David had not moved or spoken to me, I wasn’t sure what to make of the silence. “Work emergency? I hadn’t even realized you carried a second phone.”
The silence stretched out. Okay, now I was nervous. David walked toward me, slowly. Hesitantly. “Oh God, please tell me no one is hurt. Janey? Bas?”
“Sorry, Babe. Didn’t mean to scare you. All our friends are okay. I’m not sure how to explain what’s going on.”
I felt my grin kick up at the corner, “Truth works great. Usually keeps your ass out of trouble too.”
“Yeah, well, I kinda screwed up that part already. There are some things I didn’t tell you. You are going to be pissed. The worst part is that I have to catch a plane to Boston right away.”
“You just proposed, David. If you have this big, dark, bite-you-in-the-ass secret, shouldn’t you have sat down with me to discuss that before offering the ring?” The silence stretched out. “It’s that bad, huh?”
“Worse, as far as you’ll be concerned. Fuck, Teresa, I don’t know what to say.” He took a deep, fortifying breath. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, hopefully only a week or two. I’ll know more when I get to Boston. I’ll call Bas from the cab, and let him know what’s going on.”
“You’ll call him from the cab?” I asked, totally confused. David has always been upfront about things, he is the most honest, and straight-forward man I know. I thought we had no secrets. Obviously, I was wrong. “Are you worried he’ll try and prevent you from leaving?”
David stood me up and pulled me in to his arms. “No, I’m worried he’ll kick my ass; right before he drives me to the plane and personally sticks my black and blue body in a seat.” He framed my face with gentle, loving hands and gave me the most heartbreakingly tender kiss we had ever shared. “I love you so very, very much. And, I am so very, very sorry to leave like this. I Will be back, to sit down and explain. But I have to go.”
“Who was on the phone, David?” My voice was calm, belying all the emotion roiling under the surface.
With a final press of his lips to my forehead, he confessed, “That was my wife Marcia. My son, Wesley, is in a hospital. I have to go to Boston. I will be back and I will explain. I promise.” There was a plea in his voice. For what? I wondered. Understanding?
I was stunned. Speechless. I knew David. He is my best friend. We have trust- no secrets. Well, except two: My wife. My son.
I stiffened in his arms, and he pulled away from my confusion and pain. That action, in itself, proved that things had changed. Before that phone call, David would not have pulled back from me. We would be talking, he would be explaining. What was happening here? He had just proposed. We have been living together, building a life for the past few months. My Wife. My Son
“Why, David?” I wasn’t even sure which ‘why’ I was asking about. At this point, getting an answer to any of them might help me make sense of this nightmare I found myself in. Maybe he meant ex-wife?
“I don’t have time to talk this out before I go. Answering some questions will lead to more questions, and I just don’t have the time to answer them all. I’m sorry, but I have to get to my son, Teresa. I love you. I will be back. I will fix this, fix us, as soon as I can arrange it.”
David was gone. The door closed quietly behind him.
So, that’s what a breaking heart sounds like. Not like the tinkling shatter of glass on a countertop, or the violent thud of a fist to the gut. Not harsh, panicked screams yelled at a retreating back, or an argument peppered with words you can never take back. It’s not even like the sound of wrenching sobs that steal your breath and bow your body with grief. Heartbreak sounds like the sad, quiet finality of a closing door. Click.
Thank you for reading Color Blind. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! If you can take a few minutes to pop on to Amazon and Goodreads to leave a review, that would be totally awesome! Your reviews help Indie Authors, like me, get our books recognized by generating traffic to our sites.
Coming Winter 2013:
Blind Faith / Seeing Red
Team Red – Book 3
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An Indie Author
I love being an Independent (Indie) Author; it’s fun and scary at the same time. I stumble through learning how to pick the right title, how to select a cover, and how to market the book. There are other considerations, such as who to ask to edit, and finding beta readers to pre-read and critique my baby (“Is my Baby ugly?” “Of course not, with the proper bonnet, we can hide that unfortunate third eye.”) Did I mention some betas are not as critical as they should be? The point being, many people are moving around in the background to help a writer put together a novel, and sometimes that adds to the craziness.
One drawback to being an Indie? The lack of a publishing house that can provide a number of editors to review and re-review drafts. Any writer can tell you it’s almost impossible to edit your own work (and kudos to the ones who CAN do it). Many writers, myself included, develop a tendency to see right over the top of our own mistakes when we’ve read the same chapters a million times… over, and over, and over again, during the writing and draft process. I see what I intended, not necessarily what my fingers produced.
Traditionally published authors are often edited multiple times. There are editors for storyline continuity, spelling, past/present tense usage, and editors for punctuation and grammar. Indie authors pay for their editor(s) out-of-pocket, and usually have one or two editors review their work before it gets published. Even the best editor can’t stack up against four or five of them tag-teaming your novel. If you read Indie books regularly, you probably notice they usually have more typos or other errors.
As an author, I realize mistakes can distract from the story line. I hate them myself, and every time I re-read my own work, I seem to find at least one more thing I wish I’d caught the first, second, and tenth time, I reviewed the drafts. If you find an error, please feel free to contact me at [email protected] so that I can make a correction. Your input is important and can help me build a better book.
Thank you for supporting me and other Indie authors by purchasing our books. I appreciate you.
About the Author
The author, T. Hammond lives in Spokane, WA with her goofy, neurotic, long-coat German shepherd, Dexter; he's noble and brave, until someone turns on the microwave, then she has 100lbs of quivering dog trying to hide behind her chair or bury his head under a pillow (Little known fact: a 100lb German Shepherd CAN fit under a coffee table).
T feels writing is not a calling so much as a compulsion. No one is more surprised than she is when characters take over the plot and dialog, and (re)direct stories in directions she had not (consciously) intended. She is fully convinced that the writer is the tool a story uses to tell its tale. Some tools, of course, are more appropriate for the job than others. (Ever tried pounding in a nail with a screw driver?) Here's hoping you feel she did her stories proud.
T. has a Bachelor's Degree in Organizational Management from Whitworth University, and a Master's Degree in Organizational Leadership from Gonzaga University. Before becoming a writer she was a bookkeeper, technical/manual writer, Call Center Manager and the owner of a freshwater aquarium store, Guppy Tales.
You can write me at my postal annex address:
T. Hammond, 816 W. Francis Ave #122, Spokane WA 99205.