Untitled, Chapter 3

            The phone rang later that night, waking Dyanne up from a deep sleep.  She mumbled a sleepy “Hello?” into the receiver before even looking at the caller ID.

            “Dyanne?  It’s Evan.”

            She looked at the time.  12:17AM.  “Evan?  Why are you calling so late?  Where are you?  Why aren’t you home?”

            “Listen, babe, I don’t have a whole lot of time to talk.  I only get one call here.  I just had to call and let you know that…I won’t be coming home tonight.  I’ll be back tomorrow, hopefully.”

            Dyanne was shocked, had to take a moment to think.  “You…You’re not coming home?  Evan, you’re scaring me.  What happened?  Where are you?”

            “I…  I’m in jail.  At least for the night, maybe two nights, but I’ll try and be home tomorrow.”

            “Evan, what the hell happened?  Why are you in jail?”

            A heavy, frustrated sigh came through the phone.  “I went out with the guys after work today.  We had a couple drinks, I may have had more than a couple, and got into a little fender-bender on the way home.  It’s no big deal, I just—”

            “Drunk driving?  And you hit someone?  Are you nuts?!”

            “Dyanne, it’s not a big deal, really.  I just have to stay the night to sober up, and I’ll be back in the morning.  But…I’m going to need you to pick me up in the morning.  And take me to work.”

            She was borderline speechless.  She could just barely squeak out a “Why?”

            “Because…the car is totaled.  Babe, I’m so sorry.”

            She couldn’t come up with a response.  No rational thoughts were popping into her head.

            “Dyanne?  You still there?”

            She shook herself to a semi-coherent state again.  “Evan, we’ll talk more tomorrow.  Good night.”  And she hung up.

            There were no words to explain her thoughts or feelings towards Evan right now.  Disappointment came close.  Anger, perhaps.  She curled back up in bed under the covers and cried herself back to sleep.

            The next morning, Dyanne found herself instinctively waking up and feeling for Evan in the bed beside her.  Then, the events of the night crashed back down on her, and she collapsed back down on the bed.  Wow, she had just woken up and was already bone-weary.

            That damned Evan…  She couldn’t believe he had been so stupid.  That was their car!  And a DUI?  They were going to have to pay for that, along with the damages to the car…not to mention the damages to the other vehicle.  God, what if the other driver was injured?  Or worse…

            Dyanne stopped her train of thoughts short.  She couldn’t bear to think of it.  Before last night, they weren’t exactly living like princes.  They were both working full-time, living in a tiny one-bedroom apartment, scraping pennies together and still living paycheck to paycheck trying to make ends meet.  And now he went and pulled this kind of a stunt?  They were screwed!

            She finally managed to drag herself out of bed and into the kitchen.  Coffee.  That should fix things, at least give her some clarity of mind.

            The day passed uneventfully.  She ate breakfast, ate lunch, and didn’t receive a single call from Evan.  He probably was going to have to stay there again tonight.  Paperwork, politics, what-have-you, he was probably just caught up in the system longer than necessary.

            5 o’clock rolled around, and Dyanne was lazing around on the couch, watching the news in her favorite cozy jeans and an oversized sweatshirt.  Her phone rang, and she jumped to get it.  Maybe Evan was just getting a late release?

            “Hello?” she answered breathlessly.

            “Dyanne?  This is Xavier.  I wanted to confirm your address with you before I came to pick you up for dinner tonight.  We…are still on for dinner, right?”

            She smacked her forehead.  She had completely forgotten about dinner with Xavier!  “Uh… Yeah!  At six, right?  Absolutely!  Have a pen handy?”

            Dyanne rushed herself into a presentable state in record time.  She chose a deep, navy blue dress.  It complemented her blue eyes and her fair skin tone – that’s why she had gotten it in the first place.  Plus, it was a modest piece.  Not low-cut in any form or fashion.  This was just a friend-date after all.  She had no need to show off for anyone.

            At six o’clock on the dot, a shiny black Mazda pulled up in the Lutz’s driveway.  A suave, sophisticated, successful man stepped out, straightened his tie, and headed for the front door.  Dyanne released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in.  God, Xavier looked good.

            Cut that out, Dyanne.  He’s just a friend, remember?

            After they exchanged the appropriate pleasantries – hi, nice to see you, how’ve you been – they got in Xavier’s car and headed off.

            “That color looks remarkable on you, Dyanne.”

            She gave him a sideways look.  “Xavier, please.  We’re just friends.”  He knew full well that she was married.  They had just barely gotten in the car, and he was already trying to put the moves on her?  “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

            If he was trying to put the moves on her, he had perfected his surprised face.  “Dyanne, why do you keep telling me that we’re just friends?  Are you trying to convince yourself?”

            Her jaw dropped.  “Me?  I’m the one married here, and you’re the one making inappropriate remarks.”

            It was his turn to give her a sideways look, before turning his attention back to the road.  “I gave you a compliment, Dyanne.  I give my hairdresser compliments.  That doesn’t mean that I’m trying to get in her pants.  Please, Dyanne.  I’m just being friendly.”  He glanced over at her once more.  “You didn’t answer my question.  I get the impression that  you need some persuading of your own.  Why is that?”

            “I don’t need persuading.  Like I said, I’m a married woman.  I love my husband.  I mean, I’m sure you know that you’re an attractive man, but that doesn’t change the facts.  I can’t let myself be attracted to you.  I can’t hurt him like that.”

            “So you think I’m attractive?  Well thanks, Dyanne, I’d like to get in your pants too.”

            She glared at him.  “You’re a jerk.  Why am I letting you take me out to dinner again?”  Dyanne slumped back in her seat like a sullen teenager.  She didn’t care if she was being immature.

            They sat in silence for the remainder of the drive – which wasn’t long.  Xavier pulled the car into a parking spot at the local fine dining establishment and they sat there for a moment, neither moving for the door.

            “Dyanne?  I must apologize for my earlier behavior.  I was being unforgivably rude.  I would very much enjoy a pleasant and friendly evening with you, if you would still be willing to enjoy one with me.  If not, I would be more than obliged to take you home.”

            She couldn’t resist him.  Quite frankly, he was – by definition – irresistible.  She had to forgive him.  “No, no.  We can have dinner.”

            Xavier flashed her the most brilliant smile she had ever seen.  “You’ve done me a great honor, Dyanne.  Thank you.”

Untitled, Chapter 2

            The
business card was burning a hole in her purse as Dyanne drove home.  Xavier Stevenson, Executive Director, X-Act Publishing.  Should she really contact him?  There couldn’t be any harm in it.  He was just doing his part as a concerned neighbor, wanting to be sure that she arrived home safely.  A sweet gesture, really.

            She got home, tossed her keys and purse on the couch, and took her groceries into the kitchen while she mulled it over.  Milk and eggs were quickly put away, so she got out a bowl, spoon and a wine glass and served herself some ice cream with wine.  Her phone buzzed as she was heading back to the living room to put on her movie.  Evan.

            Make it home ok?

            She typed a quick, affirmative response, and there was no further communication between them.  Work kept Evan very busy; she never expected to hear anything from him while he was at work.

            The card seemed to be calling her name from inside her purse.  Dyanne stared at the bag from across the living room, trying to make up her mind as to her next move.  She took a swig of wine, not taking her eyes off her purse.

            What the hell.

            She crossed the room quickly, darting her hand inside her purse and instantly retrieving her prize.  Xavier Stevenson…  Pulling her phone out, she typed in the number scrawled on the back of the card.  Just one quick text, and that’d be it.

            I made it home safe and sound. Thanks for your concern.

            There.  See, now that wasn’t so scary after all, was it Dyanne?

            Now that she had taken care of that bit of business, she unwrapped her new DVD and put it in the player.  She grabbed a blanket from her stash on the way back to the couch, and cozied up under it.

            Just as she was about to dig into her ice cream, her phone buzzed.  She froze.  He was texting her back?

            Thank you for humoring me. Have you opened the wine yet?

            As if he had reminded her, she took another sip.  It was very good – he had good taste.

            I’m enjoying a glass as we speak.

            The previews had finished on her movie, and it was now sitting, waiting on the DVD Main Menu for her command.  She pressed “Play”, and her phone alerted her of a new notification.

            I’m sorry you have to be alone on a night like tonight.

     Don’t be, she responded.  It’s not an unusual thing for me.

            Dyanne was obsessed with her phone.  She was missing the first part of the movie, continuously checking for new messages.

            That’s an honest shame. Do you at least enjoy the solitude?

            She had to pause at the question.  Not because she didn’t know the answer – she knew she hated the solitude – but because it was a big question to be answering for a stranger.  Her phone distracted  her attention before she could answer his first text.

            You have my name, but I never got yours. May I ask who I’m speaking with?

     A much easier question to answer.  My name is Dyanne Lutz. Pleased to meet you. :-)

            They weren’t strangers anymore, right?  She continued.  And no, I don’t enjoy the solitude. But I don’t have much of a choice. My husband works late hours.

            The movie droned on in the background.  Dyanne would have to watch it again another night, when she could actually pay attention.  She took another sip of wine.

            Let me take you out to dinner sometime, as a friend. You shouldn’t be alone.

            She sat up straighter.  No way he really just asked that.  I’m a married woman, Xavier. It’s very inappropriate to even ask that.

            In a show of indignation, Dyanne tossed her phone to the other side of the couch and focused intently on the movie.  A woman – Dyanne assumed the heroine – was crying inconsolably.  It must be the part where the girl breaks up with the guy, just before the part where the guy comes running back in, begging her to take him back.

            When her phone buzzed from a reply, Dyanne couldn’t resist.  What was it with this guy, that drew her like flies to honey?

            Dyanne, I didn’t mean it that way. I said as friends. Do you refuse dinner with everyone but your husband? You make him sound controlling.

            This Xavier guy was starting to piss her off.  I go to dinner with plenty of my friends, thank you very much. He’s not controlling at all.  She hit “Send” with a vicious jab of her thumb.  After another swig of liquid courage – could you call wine that? – she sent another message.  Fine. I’ll go to dinner with you - AS FRIENDS!!

            Polishing off her glass of wine, she took her dishes to the kitchen sink, not even bothering to pause the movie.  She wasn’t paying attention anyway, what was she going to miss?  Her phone buzzed.

            Very reasonable of you, Dyanne. When would work best for you?

            She had to think about it for a second.  Evan sometimes had to work on the weekends.  After consulting their family calendar, Dyanne saw that this weekend was one of those weekends.  We could go tomorrow night.

     Sounds perfect. When and where should I pick you up?

            Despite herself, Dyanne was grinning like a freshman getting asked out to prom by the hottest senior in school.  6:00, my house? she sent to him, along with her address.

            It’s a friend-date then. I’m looking forward to it. Good night, Dyanne.

            At that text message, she realized the time.  It was nearly 9:00.  Evan would be home soon.  She quickly typed a “Good night” in response, then picked up her mess in the living room.  Evan wouldn’t want to come home to a messy house.  As soon as that was done, she went ahead and took her vitamins and went to bed.  She wanted to be well-rested for her date tomorrow.  Well, her friend-date.

Untitled, Chapter 1

            Dyanne glanced at her watch.  4:46PM.  Just about another 45 minutes, and she could go home.  She fiddled around on her computer some more, trying to appear busy.  Tidied her desk for the twentieth time that day, organized the pamphlets in the drawers by size – largest to smallest.  Anything to make the time pass faster.

            Finally, 5:30PM rolled around.  She set the office phones to go to the answering machine, grabbed her bag and  headed out, locking up behind her.

            Now what? she thought to herself.  She didn’t particularly want to go home just yet; there was nothing waiting for her there.  Evan wouldn’t be getting off work for several hours still.  Where was the joy and comfort of home if all she was doing would be vegetating on the couch, trying to stay entertained?  It was just like work, in a different environment.

            No, she would run some errands first.  They were running low on milk, she thought.

            For Evan, 5:30PM meant nothing more than a break to eat a quick bite for dinner, then back to work.  He checked his phone for any messages from his wife.  There were none, so he decided to message her instead.

            Need eggs. Get more pls? Let me know when ur home.

            It was probably childish, but he just wanted to hear the “ping” of his phone and know that it was a message from Dyanne waiting for him, even if it was just about a grocery list.  He was soon gratified to hear the familiar tone of a text message alert on his phone.

     K. Getting milk too. –D

            He smiled at his phone, then tucked it away and went to go get dinner for himself.

            The grocery store was crowded when Dyanne got there.  I suppose everyone else had the same idea, she thought.  Hallmart must be the place to be on a Friday after work.

            As she went about her chores, getting eggs and milk, she reconsidered her own thought.  No, they probably didn’t have the same idea she did.  They probably have a loving spouse at home, dinner waiting for them in the oven, a German Shepherd bounding up to greet them and welcome them home.  To them, this was a quick “honey-do” standing in the way of them and home.  For her, this was more busy-work, putting off the inevitable.  She didn’t want to go home.

            She headed towards the alcohol section, thinking that a bottle of wine might help ease the loneliness at home.  Dyanne had never had much cause for wine, but she figured it was worth a shot tonight.  A glass of wine, a bowl of chocolate ice cream, and maybe that new chick flick that was just released recently.  Yes, that sounded like a good plan to her.  If you had to be home alone, you may as well do it right.

            Once she arrived at the wines, she was flooded with options.  Red wine, white wine, honey wine, flavored wine, sweet wine, tart wine… Dyanne had never realized wine was this big of a deal.  She decided to go by price tag instead, which led her to the boxed wine.  Wine is wine, right? she justified, examining a box of “Chillable Red” wine.

            “Big date tonight?”

            She turned to face the owner of the deep, masculine voice behind her.  He was attractive, dressed in his best business attire.  His suit probably cost more than her paycheck, and fit him perfectly.  Dyanne didn’t consider herself unattractive – she knew she looked good compared to many women – but her in her cheap slacks and Hallmart blouse, next to this chiseled specimen designed and sent straight from the gods, she felt underdressed and worthless.

She’d be damned if she let him know that, though.

            After allowing herself a small chuckle, she responded.  “No, nothing too fancy.  Home alone tonight.”

            He cocked his head and smiled at her, but turned to make his own selection of wine.  “A pretty girl like you, all alone on a Friday night?  I find that hard to believe.”

            “Yeah, well, that’s the truth.  No big plans.  Just some good wine, a good movie, and myself tonight.”

            “‘Good wine?’”  He repeated, stopping in his tracks and staring at her.  “You call ‘Chillable Red’ boxed wine ‘good wine’?”  He took the box from her, and replaced it with a bottle of wine he had picked from the shelf.  “Concha y Toro.  Try that tonight instead.  It’s better than that boxed garbage.”

            Dyanne looked over the new bottle in her possession.  “How do you know I’ll like this?”

            The stranger shrugged.  “It hardly matters.  Anything is a step up from ‘Chillable Red’.”

            “Well, I suppose I wouldn’t know any better either way.  Thanks.  I appreciate your help.”

            He nodded dismissively as Dyanne walked away, heading for the ice cream.

            After Dyanne had acquired all of the necessities for a girl’s night in – chocolate, ice cream, wine, movies, popcorn and all – she headed for the cash registers up front.  Somehow, even on the busiest days, there were only one or two registers ever open.  Dyanne headed for the shorter line, and was startled to see the stranger from the wine section waiting at the end of the same line.

            “You’re still here?” she asked without thinking.

            He closed the magazine he was browsing through to look at her.  “I could ask the same of you.”  He peeked into her shopping cart.  “One might think you were suffering a break-up, considering your purchase choices.”

            She flushed.  “I’m not.  I’m happily married to a wonderful man.”

            “Then why are you home alone?”

            Dyanne opened her mouth to respond, but realized that anything she said at that point would sound too defensive, like an excuse.  So she chose not to respond.  What business did he have anyway, asking personal questions like that?

            They waited awkwardly in line together as the customers ahead of them made their purchases and left.  After the strange man made his purchases and was about to head out, he instead turned to Dyanne.  “Do me a favor?” he pleaded, to her surprise.  He handed her a business card.  “My cell phone number is on the back.  Just let me know that you make it home safely.  You’re a beautiful woman, and your husband is a fool for not looking out for your safety better than he is.”

            And with that, he turned and left.

            Dyanne stood staring after him for a moment, then glanced at the card.  Xavier Stevenson.  His cell phone number was scrawled hurriedly but still elegantly on the back, just like he said it would be.  She looked it over, then stowed it away in her purse and concentrated on making her purchases and getting home.

My Life, My Universe, My Everything

When I was growing up, my parents always told me that they loved me.  Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.  You're the ones who grounded me, how can you turn around and say you still love me?  Of course, when I was growing up, my mom would also tell me "Listen: I will always love you.  I may not always like you, but I will always love you".

Now that I have a kid of my own, all of my parents' words growing up make a hundred times more sense.  I look at my son, and I can feel my world revolving around him.  He means more than anything to me -- more than everything to me.  Yes, of course he can be a nuisance at times.  No one's perfect, even though I think he sure comes close.  But even when he screams, when he strews his toys all over the living room, and yes, even when he takes his diaper off during the night and pees on all of his bedding, I still love him with all of my heart.

The most paradoxical thing about having a child is watching him or her grow up.  The pride and the sadness both warring in your head and your heart could drive a person mad.  My son just recently celebrated his first birthday.  I could have sworn he was only born a month or two ago, and now his birthday's already come and gone?  Where did the time go!  But in that time, he has grown so much.  I've gotten to witness him learning to sit up, crawl, speak (only a couple of words, but speaking nonetheless), stand, and very recently: I've gotten to witness his first steps.  And now he's walking so much more confidently, all on his own!  How incredible is life?  I get to watch this boy reach all of his milestones over the next twenty years!

And yet, at the same time, all of these milestones mean that he is one step closer to being independent of me.  My world revolves around this little guy: he is my life, my universe, my everything.  But one day, he's going to move on.  He's going to grow up, find a love of his own, and make his own mark on the world.

Then, I'll be left to figure out what my life means without him in it every day.