by Joy Argento
The two women chatted away for close to an hour. Hope found it very easy to talk to Carrie. Her ear was numb by the time she hung up the phone. But she didn’t mind.
Hope tossed her cell phone on a chair in the living room and sat at the desk in the corner. She opened the cover on her laptop and pressed the button to turn the computer on. Her fingers tapped out a rhythm on the desk as she waited for the welcome screen. When at last it appeared, she signed onto the Internet and opened up Google. She needed to find a nice restaurant to take Carrie to on Friday. When she was done she opened the desk drawer and found and old notebook and pen. For some reason she was in the mood to write. The poem she wrote was one of happiness and joy.
Chapter 8
Hope didn’t know why she was having such a hard time deciding what to wear. She stood in only her bra and underwear and peered into her closet. The pile of clothes on the bed was growing larger as she tried on another shirt and then tossed it on top of the mountain. She pulled a light blue silk blouse from her closet. She held it up in front of her and took a look in the full-length mirror. This shirt might work, she thought. She slipped her arms into the sleeves and watched herself in the mirror the whole time she buttoned the shirt. She left the top button undone. She examined herself in the mirror again and undid one more button. It showed more of her throat, but didn’t come anywhere near showing her cleavage. She undid another button and looked again. She added a pendant on a thin silver chain around her neck and nodded her approval.
I guess I should pick out a nice pair of slacks to go with the shirt. I am not sure that showing up in just my undies would be a good idea. She looked through her closet again and selected a dark gray pair of polyester pants with pleats down the front. She slipped them on and pulled up the zipper in the back. She turned sideways and looked into the mirror, this time checking out her hips and butt. She turned again so her back was to the mirror. She twisted to look back over her shoulder and once again checked out her rear end. Satisfied that she looked good she picked up the clothes from the bed to hang back in the closet.
Her attention was drawn to the cardboard box on the shelf above her head. She reached up and pulled the box down and put it on the now cleared off bed. She lifted the lid, avoiding the layer of dust on it and set it on the floor. She sat down on the bed next to the box and pulled out a spiral notebook. She flipped through the pages, stopping here and there to read the words there in her own handwriting. A poem she wrote during the time she was preparing to leave Tom caught her eye.
Now I don’t believe in good fortune
And I don’t believe in accidents
And I’ve gone against all of my instincts
In complete disregard of good sense
And I’ve put myself in this position
All at good judgment’s expense
Since I’ve accepted this mission
I cannot claim innocence
I should run
Now I stand here before you on guard
Yet we’re willing to play this game
These walls that surround me are hard to get through
But I know that you’ll try just the same
I should run
You should go your way and I’ll go my way
Say it’s been nice and move along without delay
I struggle in my head and it argues with my heart every day
I know better that’s why I can’t stay
I can’t help but trust my suspicion
You want more than I’m able to give
But you shouldn’t mistake my submission
As love, because it’s all relative
Because this broken heart that I carry
Will cause you nothing but grief
I was willing to give you my body
But our moments of joy with be brief
You should run
She pushed away the memories that the poem brought to the front of her mind, pulled out a couple more notebooks, and thumbed through them. Hope set aside one of the notebooks and covered the box again. She left the box on the bed and took the notebook with her when she left the room.
Hope slipped her cell phone into her purse and took her car keys off the hook where they hung by the door. She primped her hair in the hallway mirror applied a thin layer of lipstick and headed out the door.
The traffic on the express was light for a Friday night. Fifteen minutes later she pulled into Carrie’s driveway. Hope glanced in the rear view mirror. She checked her hair and teeth once more before going to the door.
Carrie opened the door several seconds after Hope rang the bell. She stood there wearing a long sleeve tan cardigan sweater and black dress pants. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. She wore a simple gold chain around her neck.
“Wow, you look very nice,” Hope said.
“You don’t look so bad yourself,” Carrie replied. “Come on in. I am just about ready, but I have to find my other shoe.” She held up a black pump with a low heel.
Hope stepped into the house. “How could you lose your shoe?”
“I’m usually a tee shirt and sneakers kind of gal. I haven’t worn these in a long time. They were shoved towards the back of my closet and my closet is a mess, so it has to be in there. It must be hiding underneath stuff.”
“Want any help?” Hope pushed the sudden image she had of Carrie on her hands and knees, half in and half out of the closet, from her mind.
“Nope. Make yourself at home and I’ll be right back. If I don’t find it quick, I’ll grab another pair.” Hope sat on the sofa while Carrie went to look for her shoe.
She returned two minutes later with two shoes in her hand. “Found it.” She sat down across from Hope and put her shoes on.
Hope handed her the notebook that she had brought along. “What’s this?” Carrie asked. “Oh my God. Is this your writing?” She was delighted as she opened the pages.
“Don’t get too excited. I don’t know how good they are,” Hope said. “That one has short stories and some of my poems in it.”
“But I am excited. I am looking forward to reading this.” She looked up at Hope. “Can I read one now?”
Hope laughed. Carrie was acting like a child that had just been handed a present. “I guess you can, but if you don’t like it, be gentle. If you tell me it sucks it’s going to hurt my feelings.”
“It’s not going to suck, now stop it.” Carrie thumbed through the book until a title caught her eye. She read the title out loud. “Feel Again.”
“Hey, don’t read it now.” Hope was a little embarrassed even hearing the title read out loud.
“Yes. Why not?” Carrie was determined. “Close your ears if you don’t want to hear it.”
Hope just shook her head in defeat as Carrie began reading.
What I would give to once again feel
The hope of my youth and force of my dream
And the faith that once flowed
Through my very blood stream
That bitterness owns now and will not redeem
In the search for my soul all I find is a ghost
Of all that I’ve lost I miss myself the most
Some people say they would not change a thing if they could
I’m here to say, that I would, I would, I would
Oh what I would give to have eternal peace and a good night’s sleep
And the silence that comes from so very deep
What I would I give to stop living the past with this heart made of stone
And to learn to let go of the only love I’ve ever known
I don’t know if this is all said and done or just one of life’s interludes
I’ve persevered longer than most anyone
So pray for this hopeless cause to St. Jude
“Oh my God, Hope. That is so good. That is so good,” Carrie said.
“Thank you.”
“I mean it. I can’t wait to read the rest.”
Hope stood up. “Well, don’t
read them now. I’m hungry. Are you ready to go?”
“Okay. I’ll read them later,” she said, putting the notebook on the coffee table and lifting herself from the sofa. “Let’s go.”
*****
Hope liked the restaurant as soon as they stepped in from the chilly night air. It had a warm and inviting feel to it, with the smell of fresh tomato sauce and grilled steak in the air. They were seated almost immediately at their table once she told the maitre d’ that they had reservations. A large double-sided fireplace sat in the center of the room across from their table. The waiter had arrived within moments of their being seated to bring them fresh bread in a basket and pour water into their glasses.
Hope glanced up from the menu in her hands. “Remember, this is my treat, so order anything you want,” she said to Carrie.
The fireplace added a soft glow to the low lighting and soft music played in the background. Dark, rich wood lined the walls, giving the place an elegant yet rustic look.
Carrie put down her menu. “Well in that case, I’ll have the lobster, the steak, the most expensive bottle of wine they have and two servings of tiramisu for dessert.”
“All right then. As long as you’re sure.” Hope’s smile lit up her face. Carrie thought it made her look even more beautiful. “I guess I’ll just have water then, because I’m not going to be able to afford two meals if you are going to eat all that.”
“Oh sure, offer me food and then make me feel guilty about it. I guess I’ll just get the grilled salmon, and a cheap glass of wine.”
“How about you get the grilled salmon and a good glass of wine?” Hope put her menu down on the table.
“And maybe we can share a tiramisu for dessert?” Carrie tilted her head with the question.
“If you behave.”
The waiter returned to the table. “Are you ready to order?” he asked. He was tall, with short dark hair and a handsome smile. His well-defined muscles could be seen even though his white dress shirt. But neither woman noticed.
“We are,” Hope nodded. “Go ahead, Carrie,” she said to her companion.
“I’ll have the grilled salmon. For my side can I get a baked potato with the sour cream and blue cheese dressing on the salad?”
“And to drink?” The waiter asked.
“I am going to just have water,” she said, “and could we get some lemon wedges, please.”
“Go ahead and order wine,” Hope told her.
“No, I just want water tonight, thanks.” Carrie smiled.
“You don’t have to worry about driving. Are you sure you don’t want a drink?” Carrie just shook her head. “All right, if you’re sure.” Hope turned back to the waiter, “I’ll have the same.” She picked up both menus and handed them to him. “Thanks.”
He returned two minutes later with a dish of lemon wedges. Carrie picked up a piece of the yellow fruit and squeezed a bit of juice from it into her glass of water before dropping it in.
“How was your day?” Hope asked.
“It was good. I snuck out of work early and did a little painting.” She leaned forward and whispered, “But don’t tell anyone.”
Hope leaned forward, too, and whispered, “I won’t.”
Now it was Carrie’s turn to ask. “How was your day? Did you remember to wash after every mouth?”
“Yes, I washed after every mouth.” Hope grinned. “My day was good. We had two last minute cancellations so I got to leave on time, which doesn’t always happen.”
“You did a great job picking the restaurant by the way. I love this place. They have great food.”
“I’m glad you like it. I’ve never been here before.”
Carrie was surprised. “How come you picked a place that you’ve never been too?”
“I looked up some places online. I wanted some place nice, but not so nice that you had to wear your bridesmaid’s dress. The thought of that just scared me.” Hope gave a laugh that was matched by Carrie’s. “I looked at what got good customer reviews. This place came out on top. So, I guess you aren’t the only one that likes it.”
“I guess that means I have good taste.”
“Yes, I think that means you have good taste.” Hope couldn’t help but notice the fire nearby casting a warm glow on Carrie’s skin and dancing in her green eyes. She felt lost in those eyes for a second. Carrie is a beautiful woman. Anyone would notice how smooth her skin looks and how green her eyes are. Hope justified the thoughts to herself, and she believed it…at least for a little while.
Carrie was right. The food was delicious. There wasn’t enough left on either woman’s plate to take home doggy bags.
After taking the dirty dishes away the waiter returned with one tiramisu and two spoons. Carrie dipped her spoon into the dessert and took a bite. “Mmm, this is so good,” she said, her hand covering her full mouth. She took another spoonful and offered it across the table to Hope. “Here eat this.”
Hope leaned forward and took the bite from Carrie’s spoon. She swallowed before speaking. “Wow, you’re right. That’s good.” Hope used her own spoon and took another bite.
They were both very full when they left the restaurant and walked to Hope’s car. She pulled out of the parking space and headed in the direction of the movie theater.
After buying their tickets and entering the theater, both women passed by the popcorn and candy area without so much as a glance. They were too full from dinner to even think about eating anything else.
Large movie posters hung on the walls that led the way to room five where their movie would be starting in about fifteen minutes.
Carrie pulled open the door to the large room. The previews hadn’t yet started so the lights were still on, making it easier for Hope and Carrie to choose their seats. There were still plenty of seats to choose from. “Where would you like to sit?” Carrie asked Hope.
“Somewhere towards the middle, if that’s all right with you. I don’t like to be too close to the screen.”
“That’s perfect. I don’t like to be too close to the screen either.” They had only taken a few steps when the room was plunged into darkness. The movie screen lit up with a warning about talking during the movie and turning off cell phones. A dim light bounced off the screen.
Hope’s eyes didn’t adjust to the change in darkness as fast as Carrie’s did and she reached out and grabbed Carrie’s hand as she realized that Carrie was moving forward without her. They walked like this until Carrie asked, “How’s this? Not too close.”
“This is fine,” Hope said into Carrie’s ear as music from the first preview filled the room. She was suddenly aware that Carrie’s hand was still in hers. She could feel its warmth and let it go. She ran her hand through her hair, nervously. She refused to let her mind think about how good Carrie’s hand felt in hers. They moved into the middle of the row and took their seats, watching the previews until their movie began.
Hope thoroughly enjoyed her evening with Carrie. The food and conversation at the restaurant were wonderful, and she had even enjoyed the movie. Romantic comedies were her favorites and Sandra Bullock never disappointed.
She was sorry to see the night end as she pulled into Carrie’s driveway. “Well, here we are,” she said.
“Would you like to come in for something to drink?” Carrie asked, “Or a snack?”
“I would love to, but I really should get going.” Hope resisted the urge to spend more time with Carrie tonight.
“Okay,” Carrie said and leaned across the seat to give Hope a hug. “I had a great time. Drive careful.” Her smile was bright, even in the darkness of the car.
“I had a great time, too. Have a good night.”
Hope waited until Carrie had unlocked the door and entered her house before she backed out on the street and drove towards home.
*****
Carrie hung up her coat and took her shoes off at the door. She poured herself the last glass of wine from the bottle that Hope had brought for dinner the week
before, and made herself comfortable on the couch. With her feet tucked under her she reached for the notebook with Hope’s poems and short stories and began to read.
It was two a.m. by the time Carrie looked up from the notebook. She was shocked when she looked at the clock. She had become so engrossed in reading that she had lost all track of time. She put the notebook on the coffee table, rose and stretched to remove the kinks from sitting in the same position for so long.
She had liked Hope before, but she liked her even better now. Reading the words that Hope had written made Carrie feel liked she had seen a glimpse into Hope’s soul, a soul that was full of love and kindness and at the same time full of want and a life unfulfilled.
Carrie made her way to the bedroom. She stripped out of her clothes and slipped on an old long sleeve tee shirt that she used as pajamas. She fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. Her night was filled with dreams of Hope, dreams that faded into tiny sliver-like memories when she woke up the next morning.
Chapter 9
“I finished reading your work. I really, really like your writing,” Carrie said as she and Hope walked on the canal. It had been a little more than a week since they had gone out to dinner and the movies. Since then, they had spent several evenings talking on the phone, their conversations often moving from serious, personal topics to light, humorous ones that sent them both into fits of laughter.