All things must come to an end eventually

by Eleanor Tylbor

Looking back, Sheila came to the realization that she had shared fifteen years of her life with a man who was a stranger.

This moment of truth arrived with the delivery of a big screen TV. If she had known then what she eventually discovered the hard way, she would never have bought it for him in the first place. Since installing it in their den along with a satellite dish offering hundreds of programming choices, most of which were sports networks, Hal spent most of his waking time in an old, well-worn leather recliner.

His obsession was all consuming to the point where he now ate and slept in the chair,  enabling him to watch televised hockey games in all the time zones. Some people had teddy bears and blankies as comfort items - her husband had his leather chair. Such was Sheila's life.

An intimate birthday party for Hal seemed like an inspired idea at the time but in hindsight she should have waited before acting on it. After ten years of marriage their relationship had become predictable and dull. She hoped that a party for two would rekindle a flame that once burned brightly, but was in peril of flickering out. It was blatantly clear that her husband preferred watching televised hockey games to anything resembling a normal conversation between two people. His usefulness was now relegated to covering household expenses with a part time job, enabling him to stay home and do what he did best, which was nothing.

In a desperate but futile bid for his attention, she had once stood naked in front of the TV, posing provocatively.

"You're blocking my view," he had barked at her, between bites of a sandwich she had brought to him, followed by "you made me miss a goal!"

It came as no surprise when a night out at the movies was rejected within seconds of the words forming on her lips.

"The playoffs started," he told her. "Can't expect me to leave now!"

"And I'm sure the players have come to depend on your valuable support," she snapped back, storming out of the door, slamming it behind her.

It wasn't as if time spent with her best friend Estelle was an unusual occurrence. In fact, their get-togethers at the coffee bar had become part of a regular routine. Sipping lattes they discussed the planned birthday celebration for Hal.

"Since you feel compelled to create a special menu for the insensitive dolt, the only place to shop is at Epicurean Edibles, but he's really not worth the effort you know..."

"Let's not go there again," Sheila jumped in before her friend could finish the sentence, knowing another scathing denouncement of Hal was on the way.

"Why don't you just divorce him and get it over with?" Estelle asked. "He doesn't give a damn about you, anyway. Given the choice you'd place a distant third after hockey, his only real love. He probably saves his romantic moments for a hockey puck!"

They both laughed but Sheila was very much aware of Estelle's feelings about Hal. In fact Estelle had suggested on countless occasions that the best thing that Sheila could do for herself was walk out and even then, he probably wouldn't even realize she was even gone.

"You're so negative! Okay – I admit things aren't the same as they used to be but what marriage is? Hal's got his good points…"

"Like?" Estelle asked, waving her perfectly manicured nails in the air for emphasis. "Name two."

"Well - he's honest and… I can't think when you're pressuring me!"

"See? You can barely come up with one! Be honest with me and yourself, for once. Aren't you just the teensy bit curious what your life would be like without him? More importantly, don't you want to find out?"

Lately, she had found herself thinking about this very subject, especially after encountering someone special from her past.

"Remember Mike Pickering from our senior year? Almost walked right by him yesterday. He's lost most of his hair but it's those piercing blue eyes of his that made me recognize him."

"Didn't you have the hots for him?" Estelle asked, studying the waiter as he bent over while emptying the plates in the trash can. "Hmmm...nice... I mean, Mike was very nice as I recall."

"Me and a hundred other girls had the hots for him," Sheila answered, suddenly feeling nostalgic for her youthful past. "He's a big shot lawyer now with a firm here in town. Even gave me his business card."

"So you talked to him, too. Well that's a good start! Now if you'd only leave that jerk of a husband of yours…"

"Far be it for me to interrupt another of your tirades but I better go check out that gourmet shop you recommended before it closes. Call you later."

It took more than a half-hour to get served at Estelle's favorite upscale delicatessen and the prices they charged would put her budget out of whack for a couple months, but it would be worth it if it would entice her husband away from TV. The clerk suggested escargots and smoked eel but knowing Hal's very basic tastes, she opted to play it safe with a beef consommé and steak tartar for the main course. A decadently rich, chocolate mousse birthday cake for dessert completed the order. The food was expensive but it was a small price to pay if their relationship could be salvaged.

Their dining room table was set with their best dinnerware, along with two new crystal wine glasses she had bought for the occasion. Dimming the lights she lit perfumed votive candles to lend a romantic air to their dining. A few stirs to the bisque and it was time, as they said in hockey talk, to drop the puck.

"Dinner ready yet?" Hal bellowed from another room. "It's between periods so we better eat now."

"Almost," she yelled back. "You can come in now."

"We celebrating a special occasion?" Hal asked, scanning the beautifully set table before settling in his chair"

Your fortieth year on this earth is special, so I went all out and chose a gourmet menu for us."

"Dark in here," he commented, looking around and staring into his soup bowl. "Can't see what I'm eating. Hey – maybe that's a good thing! "

Only Hal laughed.

"What's this stuff?" he asked, sniffing the air like a dog and moving his spoon through the liquid.

"It's…lobster bisque…very light…" she stammered. "Try it!"

He pushed the bowl away spilling some of the liquid out of the bowl, grabbed a slice of French bread from the basket, and tore into the crust.

"Can't eat this soup!" he spluttered between bites. "You know I can't stand fish! What made you think I would eat this junk?"

There was no use trying to reason with him when he made up his mind about something and didn't bother trying. Instead, she removed the bowl and emptied the contents into the sink. If Hal knew how much money she had poured down the drain he would have a stroke, which would suit her just fine at that moment.

Steak tartar followed and she gritted her teeth anticipating his reaction.

"Raw hamburger?" he barked at her, moving the meat around the plate with his fork. 'Ya wanna gimme food poisoning?"

"Not hamburger. It's steak tartar," she answered matter-of-factly, "and one eats it rare."

"Well this guy likes his well done! Take this…tartar crap and fry it up like it was meant to be cooked and add a side dish of fries. Don't forget the ketchup. Bring it in to me when it's ready - and put a rush on it," he told her, walking out of the dining room. "The game is starting again."

Her body shook with frustration and anger and her eyes filled with tears. Why had she bothered trying to please him when she knew in her heart that this would be the end result?

Only dessert remained to be served and in spite of it all, she held on to the ever dimming hope that maybe they could still re-ignite the passion they once had shared. She had nothing to lose at this point. This was her last shot.

Next installment: Hal Gets His Just Dessert

A NEW CHAPTER

by Eleanor Tylbor

Although she was physically and mentally exhausted, sleep escaped Sheila. The couch was narrow and comfortable enough but it was the images of Hal that kept her in a netherland of sleep and semi-consciousness. In her dream state Hal's features were grotesque and each time he opened his mouth to speak, remnants of rotten food mixed with saliva flowed out of his mouth. Over and over he kept screaming, "Sheila - why did you leave me? I need you Sheila! Go get me a sandwich!"

"Sheila! Sweetie! Hello?" a distant voice interrupted the disturbing images.

Opening her eyes, she saw Estelle leaning over shaking her shoulder. Her pillow was soaked with perspiration.

"Are you okay?" Estelle said, her voice filled with concern. "I got scared when I heard you yelling."

"Nightmares!" Sheila responded, rubbing her eyes and running her fingers through her hair in an attempt to come to full consciousness.

"I'm guessing the cause is Hal and not some bad guacamole? Actually...given his love for food" Estelle laughed. "Why don't you go back to sleep and I'll go get us some fresh croissants at La Baguetterie down the street?"

The last thing that she wanted to do was close her eyes. A trip to the bakery sounded like a better option.

"Sounds good to me. Know what? Give me ten minutes to shower and we'll go together," Sheila suggested.

"Are you sure you're up to it? I mean...you look very tired..."

"Estelle. We've been friends like...forever. Is there a reason why you don't want me to go along with you?"

"Well... No - of course not. I was just thinking about...your health! We don't want you to get sick or anything..." Estelle stammered, turning her head away from Sheila as she spoke.

"Good! Just gimme a few minutes to revive myself and dress! This is the first day of my new life! Ohmygawd! I sound like something out of a romance novel!"

The hot water revived her and she found herself actually singing in the shower. Under normal circumstances and having naturally curly hair, she would have blown it straight. However, today it didn't matter and she didn't want to keep Estelle waiting.

"Nice to hear you singing," Estelle said, grabbing her coat in the hall cupboard. "Some advice from a good friend? Don't give up your day job!"

"Actually, I was thinking of starting a recording career," Sheila responded, laughing. It felt so good to feel happy again.

As they were walking out of the door, the phone rang.

"The voice mail will pick it up," Estelle said matter-of-factly.

"Are you sure? Could be somebody important like your friend from last night! Maybe he wants to pick up where you both left off before I entered the picture."

"He'll wait. Anyway - it'll just make him more anxious to see me when we get together next time. C'mon - they run out of croissants fast."

The phone was still ringing as Estelle locked the door and continued to ring long after they both had left.

It was a short ten-minute walk to The Baguetterie and as they opened the door, the sweet smell of yeast inter-mingled with freshly-baked bread greeted them.

"Hmmmmmm... Almost as good as sex, huh? Estelle said, winking at Sheila. "Notice I said almost."

Sheila was completely caught up studying the display case filled with pastries and long sticks of french bread. It reminded her of her business trip to France a few years back.

"So? What you think?" a deep masculine voice interrupted her flash-back. "Do they look good enough to eat?"

"And then some!" she blurted out.

"We have been told that we make the best pastries in town. You are Estelle's friend, no?" the voice asked.

Looking up, she gasped at the source who was leaning over on the other side of the counter. He was tall and muscular with thick black wavy hair speckled with flour. His smile was warm and welcoming and Sheila felt herself blush uncontrollably.

"I am Jean-Paul and you are?" he asked, genuine inquisitiveness in his tone.

"Sheila. I'm Sheila," she managed to get out.

"He owns the bakery," Estelle interjected. "We're good friends - very good friends."

"Would you like to taste one?" Jean-Paul asked, pointing to an eclaire and grabbing the pastry as he spoke. He handed her one and she found herself devouring the pastry.

"Delicious," Sheila said, finishing the last piece. "I...we didn't have breakfast, yet."

"One should savor all the good things in life," Jean-Paul commented, watching as she licked the cream from her fingers, "and not just yearn for them."

"Don't I know that!" Estelle jumped in. "A dozen croissants, sil vous plait?"

However, Jean-Paul didn't hear the order since his attention was focused on Sheila.

To be continued...


Sites O Web Romances You... is a love, romance, and relationship resource offering relationship advice, romantic inspiration, romantic gifts, and much more. http://www.sitesoweb.com/

NEW BEGINNINGS

By Eleanor Tylbor


Looking around Estelle's apartment it was obvious to Sheila that her sudden arrival had interrupted special plans for the evening. The surface of the floor was covered in various clothes including a maid's uniform replete with black garter belt and black hose.

"You or - him?" Sheila asked, a definite amused quality in the tone of her voice.

"You'll never know," Estelle said, rushing to pick up the clothes. "Then again - maybe you will. So you finally left the idiot! It's about time, that's all I can say. Just think about all the fun ahead."

Somehow, her friend's comments made her feel defensive. Perhaps it was also because it was a reflection on her low self-esteem that she had stayed with someone that obviously everyone saw as a jerk, except her.

"I'm here, aren't I? Doesn't that tell you something?" Sheila responded, feeling that she was being attacked.

"Take it easy, girl! I'm just happy that you finally made a move! Just lemme finish cleaning all this stuff..."

She grabbed the three empty bottles of champagne and a can of whipped cream, shaking it.

"Empty. You know - whipped cream is so...versatile," Estelle laughed shaking the can, "but then you're not ready to hear about those kind of things - yet. But you will!"

"The only thing I want to think about now is peace and quiet and I never want to see or hear another hockey game - ever!"

Sheila realized that she was yelling at the mere mention of the word 'hockey.'

"Sorry - don't know why I reacted like that."

"I do. Years of having to listen and cater to Hal the loser. I'm sure he and his big screen TV will be happy. Wanna bet he probably still hasn't realized that you left him?"

Estelle was probably right. A flash of Hal sitting in his arm chair, the remnants of their special gourmet meal she had prepared dripping down his face and his only reaction was to bemoan how his team had lost the game.

"So...like...what d'ya wanna do? We could grab a latte down at the coffee shop..."

"Would you mind if we stayed in?" Sheila responded, feeling suddenly mentally and physically exhausted. "I'm getting a migraine and I'm absolutely no good when that happens."

"What's the matter with me? Of course you're exhausted after everything you've gone through! I've got a fan-tas-tic idea! I'm gonna make you a welcome cocktail party and introduce you to everyone! Nobody makes a par-tee like me! Gotta plan it right... Make a list of the right people you should meet..."

"Estelle - gimme a break! I mean - that sounds like a fun idea but all I want right now is a bed and sleep if that's okay with you?"

"Oh you mean that beds can be used for sleeping too?" Estelle laughed. "Sorry - force of habit. I meant a party this weekend of course. There's somebody you just hav'ta meet. Consider it your "lookout world - Sheila is here!" statement. Plenty of time to talk - and plan - tomorrow."

Estelle brought in a comforter and pillows.

"Hope you don't mind sleeping on the couch. We've...I've tried it and it's very comfortable. Nighty-night. Don't let anyone bite. Actually... Never mind."

As she laid down on the couch, she felt something sticking in her back and sliding her hand under her hips, she retrieved a plastic object.

"What in the world is this... Oh-my-oh-my," she said to herself. "You sure lead a busy life, Estelle!"

Exhaustion overtook her and her dreams were filled with hockey play-by-plays.


Sites O Web Romances You... is a love, romance, and relationship resource offering relationship advice, romantic inspiration, romantic gifts, and much more. http://www.sitesoweb.com/