[2016] What the Heart Wants

by Aqua Allsopp

He closed his teary, bloodshot eyes and wondered how he could go on, and why she wouldn’t stand by him. He tried and tried to stay awake. But couldn’t do it anymore. ‘What difference does it make if you stay awake, if she’s not coming?’ he told himself harshly.

  He closed his eyes and trailed off into dreamland. He didn’t remember anything that he dreamed about, but he didn’t care. He cared only about reality. He cared about what his life would bring him, and whether his wife would be with him.

  When he woke up the next day, there was a shocking, familiar face that was staring into his eyes. It was a woman – a really bulky and muscular woman. Otherwise, she looked like shit. Her eyes were bloodshot, she didn’t have makeup on, and her clothes were heavily wrinkled. She smelled like ass, because of a lack of deodorant. Her face was tired, dirty, and pale. It looked like it caught on fire and someone tried to put it out with a fork.

  He looked at her. She looked at him. They both smiled at the same time. He spoke first, which was a bit unusual because he was usually the quiet, submissive one. “I really missed you. I love you so much.”

  She kissed him very softly on the lips and smiled back at him. With tears in her eyes, she affirmed the same strong love for him. “I love you too. I’m so happy you’re alive.”

  A tall muscle-head walked in the room. It was Matt. He was carrying a dozen roses and a small box of chocolate. He placed them on the hospital table in the room. “My name is Matt. I’ve heard so much about you.”

  Douglas watched him put down the chocolate and shuffled his gaze back onto Matt. “Thanks for the gift. Are you a friend or something?”

  At first, he didn’t sputter a word, and sat on a white, padded chair in the room. “Well, not exactly. I was the boyfriend that your wife had been seeing while you were in your coma. When she told me you came out of the coma, I was very happy for you. We had a long talk, and she wants to come back to you. As a former Navy Seal, a gentleman, and a caring person, I graciously broke it off and told your wife to come back to you.”

  Douglas looked at him and jerked his head back as he was stunned about what he heard. Then, he looked at his wife and grit his teeth in anger. He pulled his head back and slammed it against the hospital bed. “Huh!”

  She stood up and leaned over him, and held his hand tightly as she sobbed, for the second time in two days. “Sweetie, I am so sorry! There is no excuse for what I did. I thought you were dead, and that I would never be able to see you again. I thought it was over. Please forgive me!”

  When he heard the word “forgive”, the pain and feelings of being betrayed, slowly dissipated – somewhat. He knew one thing – he would forever stay with his wife and be faithful and loyal to her, even if she betrayed him. He loved her so much, that he was willing to forgive her and give her a second chance.

  He looked up at her, and gave her hand an affirmative squeeze. “I will forgive you, but I need some time. Baby steps. Okay?”

  She smiled and panted as she lovingly took in the words. “You take as much time as you need. I will forever be your loving wife. I will love you no matter how long it takes.”

  She reached into her black, leather purse and pulled out a legal document that was typeset on plain, white paper. The top of the paper said: “Motion For Divorce”. She tore it in half and threw it in the trash can beside his bed.

  THE END

  Another bonus story is on the next page.

  Bonus Story 5 of 6

  The Last Cowboy in West Texas

  All that could be heard was the soft crunch, crunch, crunch of Lizbeth’s athletic shoes power walking through the remnants of fallen summer leaves and branches after a rainstorm.

  The little white feet of her otherwise auburn dog, Lady fell softly as she padded alongside her. The high pitched, rapidly squeaking song, “tweet-tweet, tweet-tweet-tweet” of a Mourning Dove kept perfect cadence with the pecking of a Red-bellied Woodpecker, which was accompanied by a babbling brook, brimming over after yesterday’s rainfall.

  Lizbeth, 120-days sober, bristles at the smell of alcohol that she swears leaches out of her pores every time that she sweats. She is determined to stay clean this time, that is why her morning and evening routines of exercise and prayer have become so important to her. She believes they are the keys to her sobriety.

  Lizbeth Collins’ ancestors may have come to America on the Mayflower, but her descendant, William Bradford, never seemed to find his fortune as a Pilgrim in the new world. Instead, Bradford’s distant relative, Lizbeth’s father, grew up poor and struggling in the slums of Bedford Stuyvesant (Bed Stuy), Brooklyn.

  As a child growing up in Bed Stuy, Lizbeth left the embattled home of her parent’s fourth-floor walk-up apartment, where she shared a room with two sisters and a screaming baby brother; born to an alcoholic and already raging at the world. Lizbeth walked past crack-houses and addicts to go to a high performing charter school where she was only one of a handful of white faces, and two of them were her sisters.

  Lizbeth’s grandparents were alcoholics. Her parents were addicted to crack in their youth then became semi-sober, functional alcoholics only long enough to birth three children before becoming so addicted to alcohol, that they have now dropped out of society altogether.

  On this beautiful summer morning, Lizbeth was not thinking about her dysfunctional family or even her own struggles with alcohol. She was appreciating her walk through the park with Lady and enjoying the sights and sounds of nature. Then she was jarred back to the real world by the sound of her mobile phone vibrating in the waistband of her gray and pink, Lycra, capris yoga pants.

  Lizbeth peeks at the name on the caller ID, looks skyward, shakes her head and lets out a deep sigh. She stops walking and takes the call. The dutiful Lady halts, then sits right on cue waiting for her partner to resume the walk.

  “Hi mom”, Lizbeth says in an underwhelmed tone, as if she were being forced to be nice. Lady instinctively knows this conversation is going to take a while and decides to make herself comfortable by extending her front paws in a cross-legged fashion, then she lays her auburn and white face on her top leg. She has been laying like this since she was a pup. It’s how she got her name, by the way that she crosses her legs like a lady.

  “Lizzy, I got a bill I can’t pay”, Ellen, Lizbeth’s mother says, in a voice that sounds both irritated and accusing. As if Lizbeth were the reason that her mother could not pay her bills. Having moved out of her parents’ home when she went off to college at eighteen, Lizbeth, now thirty-two, has not been a financial burden to her parents for fourteen years. Which is why her mother’s call is more vexing than usual to Lizbeth.

  “What else is new mom?” Lizbeth asked with a little sting in her voice.

  “What is it this time?”

  “Did the car break down and cause another unexpected expense, or did you and dad blow the rent money at an Atlantic City casino again, and why are you talking to me as if I had something to do with you being short on your bills?”

  “Oh Jesus Lizzy, stop being so dramatic, I’m just talkin’ over here, for Christ sake. You always gotta take everything so personal!

  Me and your father are just….”

  Lizbeth interrupts abruptly, “Save it, mom, how much do you need this time?

  “Oh God’ll bless you Lizbeth for helpin’ out your old ma like this. I just need a couple thousand to get me through the end of the month, that’s all.” Replies Ellen, as if holding back the excitement that would have resulted in a loud, and high-pitched voice, in a way that sounds of begging and gratitude.

  “Mom, a couple thousand? I gave you a couple thousand last month, and a thousand the month before. Why don’t I just set up an automatic draft to you for $1,000 a month?” Lizbeth asks.

  “Really Lizbeth, would you do that for me, ‘cause it would really help me out a lot?”

  “No mom, I’m not serious. I was trying to get you to see how ridiculous it is that you have to call your children every month to help you pay your
bills. This is the last time mom, I mean it!” Lizbeth shouts into the phone.

  “Lizbeth Collins do not yell at your mother! Who are you to tell me how to run my house? I gave birth to you so show some respect!” Ellen spat back in a shout.

  Softly, Lizbeth said, “Respect is earned mom, not given just because you’re biologically related. You need to start respecting yourself. It’s time to get clean mom and rebuild your life. You’re still young, it’s not too late. I’ll pay for it, for you and dad both. I’m sorry for yelling, but it’s hard to respect the woman that was so drunk that I had to be raised by a sister who’s only two years older than me. It’s hard to respect a woman that has to rely on her kids to pay her bills each month. It’s hard to respect you, mom, when you don’t respect the one life you’ve been given. I’ll put the money in your PayPal account right now mom, but it’s time for you to get clean.” Lizbeth said as she clicked the hang-up icon on her mobile phone.

  Lizbeth stood in place, completing the transaction to send her mother $2,000 for God knows what, then knelt down and sobbed into Lady’s coat. Lady licked her face dry, eliciting little girl-like giggles from Lizbeth before they resumed their walk home.

  *****

  Upon arriving home, Lizbeth washed the sweat from her face and hands, chugged a glass of water and knelt before her home alter to pray.

  “Come on Lady, it’s time for Daimoku”, Lizbeth said as she lit smokeless incents and candles while Lady padded to her position, seated on Lizbeth’s right side.

  Lizbeth picked up her Juzu beads and began to breathe in deeply through her nose in a long slow inhalation. Then she exhaled slowly through her mouth as she chanted, “Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo, Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo, Nam-Myoho…”

  Buzz, buzz, buzz went the sound of Lizbeth’s mobile again. Normally she would ignore it during prayer, but since she had only just begun she decided to answer the call, rather than to be distracted and wondering who it was while she chanted and prayed.

  “Hello,” Lizbeth said, as she waited for the caller to respond.

  “Lizbeth, it’s Clay. How are you?”

  “Hi Clay,” Lizbeth said with a smile, “I was wondering when you might call. I’m good, how are you?”

  “Are you all packed for your trip to Texas”?

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact. We’ll be leaving to go to the airport in about three hours,” Lizbeth said, still smiling into the telephone.

  “Good, I’m glad that I caught you before you left. The editor loves this piece you’re working on, this 21st Century cowboys of North America article is turning out to be fantastic. That segment that you wrote about the Vaqueros of Mexico is just phenomenal, and they are really looking forward to how it ties into the history of how the Mexican cowboys taught the newly settled Texans how to operate a cattle ranch. I know that you haven’t found the right cowboy to write about in Texas so I just want you to take all of the time that you need down there. The magazine wants your Texas segment to really be spectacular.”

  “Thanks for working that out Clay, I really appreciate how you’ve gone to bat for me with Travel + Leisure magazine to get me more time. I can’t believe they’ve decided to turn each segment into its own article, 12-months of articles in Travel + Leisure? This is insane, I’m super excited. Thank you again,” the beaming Lizbeth said.

  “Ha, ha, I wish I could take credit for making it happen, but it was all you Lizbeth. Your excellent writing meant that I only needed to ask and the answer was yes, without hesitation. So, enjoy your trip, take your time, find the perfect cowboy to wrap of this piece, and in the meantime, I’ll be looking for your next assignment.”

  “With dude ranches all over the country buying up advertising space in the magazine because of your upcoming articles, you’re making my job almost too easy. Keep up the great job, and safe travels,” Clay said.

  “Thanks, Clay, take care. Bye.” Lizbeth, who was positively giddy, grabbed the sleeping Lady and kissed her wildly until Lady had had enough and wriggled out of Lizbeth’s grip. Lizbeth was ecstatic, about how happy the magazine is with her writing, but she’s giddy for another reason.

  Since becoming his client after leaving rehab, Lizbeth has wanted her handsome new publicist to notice her as more than just another person that he represents. Hearing his praise and the excitement in his voice has Lizbeth thinking maybe there is a chance that Clay will see her as an eligible bachelorette, and not just some formerly strung out, new client that he’s taking a huge risk on.

  “This is our chance, Lady. When the first article’s released surely Clay will want to take me to dinner to celebrate. I’ll look stunning and he’ll really see me. Oh Lady,” Lizbeth says as she buries her right cheek in Lady’s rabbit soft Coates and nuzzles Lady’s neck, “I wish you could talk back.”

  “What am I doing? I’m wishing that my dog could talk to me now? I really need to make more friends.” Lizbeth says aloud as she laughs to herself, picking up her prayer beads to resume Daimoku. “Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo”.

  *****

  The trip to her hometown airport, as well as the flight to the Reagan County Airport in Big Lake, Texas was uneventful. The temperature on this August day is 92°F.

  Lizbeth has just started her rental car’s ignition. “What will it be Lady, windows up or down?” Lady looked away from Lizbeth and poked her nose against the rear, passenger side window and gave one sad whine. “Down it is, little girl.”

  Lizbeth rolled down the window as the car began to roll out of the rental car parking lot. The Garmin GPS gave infrequent directions in a voice, devoid of affect, much like Thomas Morgan of Viceland, no matter what Thomas is saying, his affect, tone facial expression, etc., is the same. Somehow, Lizbeth needed more communication and with greater emotional engagement than she was receiving from Andy, the voice on her GPS. Lizbeth was feeling emotionally needy and Andy was not filling that void. Instinctively, Lady withdrew her head from the car window. Her previously flapping ears had now come to rest, she leaned forward and began licking Lizbeth’s right cheek.

  “Thank you for the kisses Lady, I love you too,” Lizbeth said as she leaned into Lady for a quick nuzzle. “Am I so in need of a friend that my dog can sense it? Well, that’s attractive!” Lizbeth said out loud, her voice full of irony and disdain for her emotional state.

  Since getting sober, Lizbeth has become a different person. No longer the overly energized, loud-mouth, party girl from Brooklyn, who just so happens to be a Harvard Graduate School of Journalism alumna. Now she’s a grounded, compassionate, and a more—humanistic version of her old self. The change is great for her soul and her sobriety, but not for her social life. After Lizbeth got sober, all of her so called friends stopped calling her because she’s “no fun anymore” as her ex-friends say. Hesitant to admit it, Lizbeth is lonely and these long and silent Texas roads are not helping.

  This is Lizbeth’s third trip to Texas to find the perfect modern-day cowboy to interview, observe and immortalize in her series on the dying trade of the working, North American Cowboy. She found plenty of cowboys who were serious professionals, but they all had one thing in common. The minute that she began taking notes and recording them, they cease being authentic people and became a cowboy caricature, playing the exaggerated cowboy personality for her. Lizbeth wanted to interview a cowboy who would be his own authentic self.

  The hunger pains of travel finally hit Lizbeth. So she stopped to have a late lunch at a rest stop diner, just off the Interstate. The Snake Eyes drive-thru reminded her of her father, with its gambling reference, but she could little afford to be picky out in the middle of nowhere.

  Lizbeth and Lady enter the restaurant and take a seat at a booth. Lady makes herself comfortable on the floor under the table and catches up on her sleep.

  “What can I do you for?” says the waitress as she pops her gum.

  Lizbeth looked up and her eyes went immediately to the buxom waitress’s nametag. Surprised, and feeling a bit like she just landed on t
he set of a sitcom, Lizbeth said, “Hi Alice, I’ll have the spinach salad and grilled salmon please.”

  “Of course, you will hon, skinny girls like you always order a salad. And your drink?” Alice asked with attitude, as she gave Lizbeth the once over, chewing her gum the way that a cow chews its cud, grinning at a joke only she’s been privileged to hear.

  “Iced tea please,” Lizbeth said in a cheerful voice, now with a smirk of her own. Lizbeth was proud of how she allowed her higher-self to shine through when in the past, her response to Alice’s snippy remark would have been an in your face, “do you have a problem with me, Flo?

  Calling the server by an alternate, stereotypical diner waitress name to impress upon her that she is so unimportant that Lizbeth cannot be bothered to remember her name. The old Lizbeth would have gone on to say, “it’s not my fault that you peaked in high school and spent the last 20-years working in a diner.”

  The new Lizbeth compassionately accepts that Alice chose to work in a diner for any of a number of reasons. One of which could be that it’s a family business, where role playing a stereotypical waitress is part of the diner’s ambiance, and it gains her higher tips from patrons who enjoy the entertaining experience.

  Whatever the reason, Lizbeth no longer feels the need to belittle people because they rub her the wrong way, or because she feels superior to them. As a new Buddhist, Lizbeth believes that everyone is the same, although she admittedly still resorts to old habits on occasion.

  While waiting for her meal, Lizbeth took the opportunity to review her pre-interview notes. She had other ranchers who were more than happy to be interviewed for a travel magazine article, but not Steven Coates.

  She called, wrote, and emailed him several times with no response, but decided to make the trip and talk her way onto the ranch. It had worked many times in the past and Lizbeth hoped her luck had not run out yet because she had her heart set on featuring the beautiful Coates ranch in her article.