Monday, March 24, 2008


Editor's note:

So I'm an accountant by trade. But inside, there is an actress, a singer, a dancer, a photographer, a writer. Accounting just pays better. And I'm technically better at it. But, inspired by the hoardes of you who actually write fiction, I've decided to post my own. Good or bad, you decide. If you ever had a conniving, blackmailing younger sibling, you'll sympathize. Be prepared for mild sexual content. And infidelity. Which my husband hates immortalized in fiction, movies, etc. Sorry, honey. Suck it up.

And if I offended any Catholics (or Jews, for that matter) . . . well, its fiction. Suck it up. Read one of Waffles rants to put things in perspective.

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife


She was bent over the suitcase, looking for a sweater to pull over her camisole, when she felt strong fingers around her waist. She jumped and spun around, covering her mouth and stifling a scream. Avi stood there, his dark eyes flashing, crinkling at the corners. In the midmorning sun, his olive skin glowed, and his dark curls showed dark mahogany highlights. His jeans were a dark faded wash, and his t-shirt clung to his lean, muscular frame. Some random Hebrew lettering on it she couldn’t decipher.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered, loudly.

“I told you I had business in Milwaukee. I couldn’t be this close to you and not see you.” His slight accent was musical, made the butterflies in her stomach dance. “Come here, my Shoshana,” he murmured, reaching for her belt loops on her jeans. My Rose. No wonder she couldn’t resist him. For a moment, Rosemary let her body go slack, melt against his body. Feeling the heat from him, feeling him hard in his jeans. He kissed her ears, her neck, whispering Hebrew phrases against her skin. Her hands wound their way involuntarily through his hair, slipping through the big, soft curls, pulling his mouth up to hers. He had a way of kissing her like no other; as if he were breathing her breath, smelling her skin, drinking her essence all at the same time.

A noise in the hallway caught her attention, snapping her back to reality. She quickly disentangled her fingers from his hair, the diamond on her left hand catching his curls. He reached up to grab her hand, freeing his hair, but lingering on the ring. Spinning it around on her finger while he stared intently at her face. She could feel herself flush; she hadn’t finished her discussions with David and her parents didn’t know yet. Probably wouldn’t take the news well at all. She pulled her hand away and turned away from him. “Avi . . .”

He stepped up behind her, wrapping one arm around her waist, kissing her neck, and putting a finger over her mouth. “I am a patient man, my Shoshana. I will wait.”

She could feel her resistance slipping away. Then, the noise again. She pulled away, put some distance between them. Well, as much distance as she could while he still held her fingers tight in his own. “Avi, you shouldn’t be here. How did you even find me? How did you get in?”

He smiled at her. “Google is an amazing thing. And your parents are like every other small town family. No one locks their doors. I knocked; when no one answered, I came around to the back, where you said your old bedroom was. And found you.”

Now she felt self-conscious. Realized he was standing in her old bedroom, with its shabby, patchwork quilt her mother made when she was ten. The high school honor awards. Her confirmation picture. The miniature statue of the Virgin Mary . . .

“Avi, you shouldn’t be here,” she repeated. “My parents are going to be home from mass any minute now. My sister is staying here for the weekend. How am I going to explain you?”

He moved forward to kiss her again. “How about your business colleague that just happened to be in the area?” he whispered, running his fingers up her rib cage and under her breasts, his tongue teasing the corners of her mouth. Hair tickling her face.

She succumbed to one kiss, then pulled away. “Avi, if I never come visit them on business, they’ll never believe you had business in this town. You should have called.”

“I did, my Shoshana. You didn’t answer.”

Rosemary, grimaced, remembering the cell phone reception was sometimes poor out here. At that moment, she heard a car in the driveway. She began to feel panicky, then looked around. “Avi, they can’t find you here. I need you to hide, just ‘til I can figure out how to get you out of the house.” She grabbed his hand. Started to pull him toward the hallway, thinking she would have him sneak out back door and then go meet him.

The door opened before she touched the handle, and her 20-year old sister, Mary Catherine, burst in without knocking. Rosemary backed up, stunned, until she found herself backed up against Avi, still holding his hand.

“Father Paul was asking where you were . . .” Mary Catherine started, but then stopped, noticing the tall, dark-haired stranger in her sister’s room. She glanced down at Rosemary’s hand, still holding Avi’s. Rosemary dropped it, feeling herself flush again. Avi stood his ground. Mary Catherine’s eye narrowed as she processed the scene, then a slow smirk spread across her face. “Well, well, well, Rosie, what do we have here? Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

Rosemary was completely without words. Avi, however, found the situation amusing. He stepped forward, around Rosemary, extending a hand to Mary Catherine. “Avram Cohen. I work with your sister. Please. Call me Avi.” His slight accent seemed to charm Mary Catherine, and she smiled and batted her lashes.

“Nice to meet you, Avi.” An unnecessary emphasis on his name. “I‘m Rosemary’s sister, Mary Catherine. People just call me MC for short. So you work with Rosemary in Chicago?” An unnecessary emphasis on the word “work”. “Rosie must have forgotten to mention you. She can be sooo forgetful sometimes. Where are you from, Avi?”

Rosemary found her voice. “He’s originally from Isreal, MC. But he’s been living in Chicago for 10 years now. He works in our M&A practice.” She looked her sister in the eye, but couldn‘t hold her gaze.

Mary Catherine proceeded with her questioning, taking obvious pleasure in Rosemary’s discomfort. “So you’re Jewish, Avi?” Emphasis on ‘Jewish’, for Rosemary’s benefit. Mary Catherine reached out to touch the miniature Holy Mother, as if for additional emphasis.

Avi was unshaken. He smiled, and politely said “Yes.”

There was an awkward moment of silence, and Rosemary debated about what to say to her sister. Mary Catherine, however, had decided at this point to take it to a new height of uncomfortableness.

“Father Paul was saying that you and David had postponed your pre-marital counseling three times now. Mother laughed and said it was probably your busy schedule, but I could tell she was worried.” She stared at Rosemary, then turned to look at Avi, over her sister’s shoulder. “David is Rosie’s fiancée.” Heavy emphasis on fiancée. Mary Catherine turned back to look at her sister, pointedly. Avi said nothing, but Rosemary felt his hand come up protectively and rest on her waist. The motion was not lost on Mary Catherine.

This was not a conversation she wanted to have with her sister at this moment. But she didn’t have a choice, really. “MC, you can’t breathe a word of this to Mom or Dad or anyone, until I find a way to tell them. But David and I aren’t going to get married. We just haven’t . . . well, we just haven’t worked out the details, yet.”

Mary Catherine reached forward to grab her sister’s left hand, staring at the large solitaire. “Looks like you have a couple big details to work out,” she commented, lifting the ring for her sister to see, then glancing over Rosemary’s shoulder and staring at Avi. Rosemary glanced back, mortified, but Avi held Mary Catherine’s gaze, even smiling slightly at her.

“I know, MC. I know. Look, I need a huge favor from you. I need you to keep Avi out of Mom’s sight for a few minutes, until I can get out of here with him. I was planning to discuss it with Mom and Dad tonight at dinner, OK? Can you please just hide him in your room until I can make up an excuse to leave? Please MC?” Rosemary felt like a teenager, rather than a successful business woman at this point. What was it about coming home that always made you feel like a kid?

Mary Catherine’s eyes narrowed again. “For a price,” she began. “You will let me stay in your apartment downtown and let me borrow your ID when I feel like hitting Rush Street with my friends from school. Of course, that is, if you don’t have company.” Here, she looked directly at Avi. “And you will let me borrow your clothes. Like those.” Pointing to the little black Italian leather pumps Rosemary had brought back from her trip to Milan. And you’re going to help me convince Mom that the study abroad in Italy program is in my academic best interests.” Which really meant that she’d be closer to Marco, the Italian foreign student she’d met last semester, when he went back home.

“You know Mom won’t be crazy about you going to Italy for a whole semester,” Rosemary reminded her sister. “She’s not going to want to pay that much, and she knows about Marco.”

Mary Catherine pouted a little and said, “Well, at least he’s Catholic.” Emphasis on Catholic. Rosemary cringed, looking apologetically at Avi. Mary Catherine continued. “I’ll understand if you can’t be my advocate,” she said, pathetically, looking at Avi, and then grinning at her sister.

Rosemary knew she didn’t have a choice. Not now. Not if she wanted it all to come out on her own terms. “Fine,” she sighed. Turned to Avi. “I’m sorry. Can I beg you to go with my sister, just for a bit? I’ll come get you and we’ll go get lunch and figure out what to do with you.”

He smiled. Glanced down at her and touched her face. Kissed her on the lips. Pulled her hips just a little closer, as if in invitation for something later. “Certainly, my Shoshana.” Kissed her on the nose.

Mary Catherine looked pointedly at her sister. “You owe me,” she reminded her, and then walked across the bedroom to the adjoining door to her room. “Come, Avi. Let me show you some pictures of when Rosie was little.” Avi walked across the room to join her, looked back at Rosemary, then stepped through the doorway. As Mary Catherine started to close the door behind her, she poked her head back into Rosemary’s room. “Is he circumcised?” she stage-whispered.

Rosemary picked up a stuffed animal and threw it at her sister’s retreating frame. She turned with her back to the outside door, and slumped down on the floor. Twirling the diamond solitaire on her finger. Wanting to fast forward through this next part.


BamBam said...

An excellent read M ! Very well done. :o)

Let me know if I can buy in silently when "Wife-a-quin Romance" novels, actually starts up as a company.

I'd take some of that action!

Betty said...

Awesome lady!!!!!

BWoP said...

I love it!

Keep writing. I want to read more :-)

Drizztdj said...

I enjoy.

meanhappyguy said...

Inspirational! Now to collect my thoughts and jot them down... the hard part.

Instant Tragedy said...

WOw, I love the concept...

Wife-a-quin Romances.

Keep writing.

Inquiring minds want to hear more.

Uncle Bracelet said...

Please allow me to be the first A-Lister to say, Well Done!

DrChako said...

She's got skillz. Should I be worried?

-The Husband