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
Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
Saturday, June 3, 2017
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
THE NIGHT AFTER THE NIGHT BEFORE
Arriving back at the apartment, Sheila hurled her keys across the room and threw herself down on the couch.
"Damn you Estelle!" she yelled out loud, pounding her fists on the pillows. It was at that point she questioned the sanity of sharing an apartment with an old friend that she hadn't seen since their high school days.
A simple night out at the movies had turned into a disastrous date-for-three with Estelle using every opportunity to make romantic inroads with Jean-Paul. If she wasn't giggling and playing touchy-feely, she was feeding him popcorn kernels with her teeth and tongue, and Jean-Paul didn't seem to care about their exchange of saliva. At one point Sheila became so desperate to be acknowledged that she feigned choking on a kernel hoping that he would come to her rescue, only to have the Heimlich manoeuvre performed on her by Rhoda. Unfortunately, Rhoda's expertise with life saving techniques was limited to a "How to Save Your Pets in Emergency Situations" book. Her ribs throbbing with pain from the attempt, Sheila feigned a head ache and left with neither Jean-Paul nor Estelle even noting her departure.
"You…you… bitch!" Sheila screamed tossing the pillow on to the floor and stamping on it in frustration. "Why did I ever trust you?"
She couldn't remember the exact moment she realized that she was developing real feelings for the charmer from France. It had been a long time since she had felt any emotion other than contempt and anger toward males in general thanks to, Hal. Here she was, a middle-aged woman experiencing emotions similar to those she felt towards Michael Pickering in Junior high, a mixture of excitement and fear. It was images of Hal sitting in his arm chair, watching TV that quickly brought her back to reality and in control again.
"He doesn't owe me anything," she said to herself, fixing the pillows. "We hardly know each other and anyway, he's free to date anyone he wants. I'm going take a bath and wash away the bad memories."
Searching through Estelle's wine rack, she had picked out the expensive bottle that Estelle had raved about and was saving for a special occasion.
"This is a special occasion, Estelle!"
Relaxing in the bath, she recalled Michael Pickering and their stolen kisses in back of the school at lunch hour.
Sheila allowed the jets to caress her body while intermittently sipping wine.
"Good taste in wine, Estelle!" she said hoisting the glass up in the air in an invisible toast. "To my health!"
"You were some kisser, Michael Pickering!" she laughed out loud, thinking about her first love and their past. "Too bad we didn't meet later in life when we could have explored our relationship further."
The effect of the hot water combined with the stress caused her to doze off and consciousness slowly returned with the sound of laughter coming from the other room.
"You're too much!" Estelle was giggling. "Oh you're bad alright!"
As if the movie experience wasn't humiliation enough, Estelle was extending her night out with Jean-Paul right in front of her eyes and ears.
"I find cream is so versatile," Estelle went on, "and yummy."
Enough was enough. Sheila quickly towelled off, wrapped it around her and ran out into the living room.
"You have got some nerve Estelle!" Sheila blurted out. "First you interrupt my date with Jean-Paul and now you flaunt your victory right in front of my eyes! A leopard never changes its spots. You were the same in high school."
Estelle stared at Sheila, her eyes wide open. There was silence between them for a minute, the two of them staring at each other.
"Well? Say something! Are you denying it?" Sheila demanded
"I-I don't know what to say," Estelle stammered.
It was at that point that Sheila noticed the image on the television.
'I'll take Lance as my partner for the evening," the blonde on the screen exclaimed excitedly. "He's got everything I want and need. Thank you "Late Date!' the blond laughed, holding hands with a well built male as the image faded from the screen.
"Oh my… I mean, Jean-Paul didn't come home with you?" Sheila managed to get out, realizing that she had made an error in judgement.
"Do you see him here," Estelle asked, "although I have to admit it wasn't for lack of trying. The man for whatever reason couldn't be convinced to come back for a night cap. He's not usually like that."
"Well how was I to know? I mean, at the movie you two were very hot and heavy exchanging saliva. We were on a date, Estelle, and you and Rhoda horned in on us."
"Oh please! We're old friends, Jean-Paul and me," Estelle shot back defensively.
"Obviously more than good friends," Sheila responded.
"Anyway, it wasn't as if he wasn't enjoying himself or anything," Estelle said.
"Did he have a choice? You were all over him," Sheila retorted.
"I'm just a friendly person. You're reading more into it than it was," Estelle went on. "I'm tired and going to bed. Did you forget we're supposed to meet Jean-Paul for breakfast at his bakery?"
"Know what? Perhaps we better discuss the parameters of this arrangement," Sheila said, trying to keep the soaking towel wrapped around her.
"See…that's the difference between you and me. I would have dropped that towel if I thought Jean-Paul was here but you wrapped it around you like a body bag," Estelle commented while studying Sheila fumbling with the towel.
"Obviously, this arrangement isn't working the way it should," Sheila said, storming out of the room.
"Obviously," Estelle said, watching her leave. "You snooze – you lose girl!" Estelle commented.
"Damn you Estelle!" she yelled out loud, pounding her fists on the pillows. It was at that point she questioned the sanity of sharing an apartment with an old friend that she hadn't seen since their high school days.
A simple night out at the movies had turned into a disastrous date-for-three with Estelle using every opportunity to make romantic inroads with Jean-Paul. If she wasn't giggling and playing touchy-feely, she was feeding him popcorn kernels with her teeth and tongue, and Jean-Paul didn't seem to care about their exchange of saliva. At one point Sheila became so desperate to be acknowledged that she feigned choking on a kernel hoping that he would come to her rescue, only to have the Heimlich manoeuvre performed on her by Rhoda. Unfortunately, Rhoda's expertise with life saving techniques was limited to a "How to Save Your Pets in Emergency Situations" book. Her ribs throbbing with pain from the attempt, Sheila feigned a head ache and left with neither Jean-Paul nor Estelle even noting her departure.
"You…you… bitch!" Sheila screamed tossing the pillow on to the floor and stamping on it in frustration. "Why did I ever trust you?"
She couldn't remember the exact moment she realized that she was developing real feelings for the charmer from France. It had been a long time since she had felt any emotion other than contempt and anger toward males in general thanks to, Hal. Here she was, a middle-aged woman experiencing emotions similar to those she felt towards Michael Pickering in Junior high, a mixture of excitement and fear. It was images of Hal sitting in his arm chair, watching TV that quickly brought her back to reality and in control again.
"He doesn't owe me anything," she said to herself, fixing the pillows. "We hardly know each other and anyway, he's free to date anyone he wants. I'm going take a bath and wash away the bad memories."
Searching through Estelle's wine rack, she had picked out the expensive bottle that Estelle had raved about and was saving for a special occasion.
"This is a special occasion, Estelle!"
Relaxing in the bath, she recalled Michael Pickering and their stolen kisses in back of the school at lunch hour.
Sheila allowed the jets to caress her body while intermittently sipping wine.
"Good taste in wine, Estelle!" she said hoisting the glass up in the air in an invisible toast. "To my health!"
"You were some kisser, Michael Pickering!" she laughed out loud, thinking about her first love and their past. "Too bad we didn't meet later in life when we could have explored our relationship further."
The effect of the hot water combined with the stress caused her to doze off and consciousness slowly returned with the sound of laughter coming from the other room.
"You're too much!" Estelle was giggling. "Oh you're bad alright!"
As if the movie experience wasn't humiliation enough, Estelle was extending her night out with Jean-Paul right in front of her eyes and ears.
"I find cream is so versatile," Estelle went on, "and yummy."
Enough was enough. Sheila quickly towelled off, wrapped it around her and ran out into the living room.
"You have got some nerve Estelle!" Sheila blurted out. "First you interrupt my date with Jean-Paul and now you flaunt your victory right in front of my eyes! A leopard never changes its spots. You were the same in high school."
Estelle stared at Sheila, her eyes wide open. There was silence between them for a minute, the two of them staring at each other.
"Well? Say something! Are you denying it?" Sheila demanded
"I-I don't know what to say," Estelle stammered.
It was at that point that Sheila noticed the image on the television.
'I'll take Lance as my partner for the evening," the blonde on the screen exclaimed excitedly. "He's got everything I want and need. Thank you "Late Date!' the blond laughed, holding hands with a well built male as the image faded from the screen.
"Oh my… I mean, Jean-Paul didn't come home with you?" Sheila managed to get out, realizing that she had made an error in judgement.
"Do you see him here," Estelle asked, "although I have to admit it wasn't for lack of trying. The man for whatever reason couldn't be convinced to come back for a night cap. He's not usually like that."
"Well how was I to know? I mean, at the movie you two were very hot and heavy exchanging saliva. We were on a date, Estelle, and you and Rhoda horned in on us."
"Oh please! We're old friends, Jean-Paul and me," Estelle shot back defensively.
"Obviously more than good friends," Sheila responded.
"Anyway, it wasn't as if he wasn't enjoying himself or anything," Estelle said.
"Did he have a choice? You were all over him," Sheila retorted.
"I'm just a friendly person. You're reading more into it than it was," Estelle went on. "I'm tired and going to bed. Did you forget we're supposed to meet Jean-Paul for breakfast at his bakery?"
"Know what? Perhaps we better discuss the parameters of this arrangement," Sheila said, trying to keep the soaking towel wrapped around her.
"See…that's the difference between you and me. I would have dropped that towel if I thought Jean-Paul was here but you wrapped it around you like a body bag," Estelle commented while studying Sheila fumbling with the towel.
"Obviously, this arrangement isn't working the way it should," Sheila said, storming out of the room.
"Obviously," Estelle said, watching her leave. "You snooze – you lose girl!" Estelle commented.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
A SWEET MEETING AT THE BAKERY
"Don't you just love croissants?" Estelle asked, aware that there was a definite attraction between her friend and Jean-Paul. "I mean - everyone loves croissants. I know I do!"
"You have beautiful eyes," Sheila said, staring at the stranger accross the counter, her voice barely audible. "I've never seen such a deep shade of aqua...like the water in the Bahamas."
A loud masculine laugh broke their silence as Jean-Paul threw his head back, obviously enjoying the moment.
"Oh mon Dieu! You are so amusant!" he commented, reaching over the counter to touch the top of Sheila's hand. "I have never visited this place you speak, but you, ma cherie, have the soul of a poet!"
Unprepared for his compliment, Sheila felt her cheeks get warm and she licked her lips nervously.
"I mean to say... That is...the water in the Bahamas is so beautiful - and blue..."
"Why don't you quit while you're ahead?" Estelle said, through clenched teeth and a forced smile on her lips. "My friend here isn't used to compliments from men, are you sweety? You know french men - always with the compliments, right Jean-Paul? Don't I know it!"
Aware that her friend was upset, Sheila pulled her hand away from his and removed it from the counter.
"So many delicious things to choose from. I love chocolate but those eclaires look so tempting. Help me, Estelle!"
"You seem to be doing well on your own," Estelle laughed. "Okay. Give us a half-dozen plain croissants and six of the almond. Oh and a french bread."
"What about you, cherie? Don't you want something good, too?" Jean-Paul asked, a bemused expression on his face. "If you want I can make some suggestions.
"Jean-Paul is very good at suggestions. He's a very creative guy," Estelle offered, a smirk at the corner of her lips.
"Is - how you say - the cat eat your tongue?" Jean-Paul asked, bending over the counter his face directly in front of Sheila's.
"That would be 'cat got your tongue,' Sheila gently corrected, chuckling. "I just can't make up my mind!"
"I shall do it for you!" Jean-Paul said. "That is - if you want. I am the master when it comes to pastries."
"And a lot of other things," Estelle added. "Please help her so we can go home and have breakfast?"
Turning around, Jean-Paul studied the pastry displayed on the counters.
"Well...we could try a bichon au citron or eclair. I think, for you, the eclair. Firm on the outside hiding a soft sweet whipped cream center in the middle. You agree, yes?" Jean-Paul said, sliding an eclair out of the refrigerator and gently moving it to a small box.
"How much do I owe you?" Sheila asked, staring down at the box to hide her embarrassment.
"Will you please tell us how much we owe you, JP, or I'm gonna starve to death!" Estelle said, grabbing the boxes of croissants and pastry box.
"Today, I shall give you a gift, my friend," Jean-Paul said while staring at Sheila. "It will cost you nothing. I am happy."
"Happy today, happy tomorrow - let's go home! I'm ravenous!" Estelle jumped in. "By the way, JP, are you gonna be at Beth Ellen and Brian's cocktail party, tomorrow night?"
"I was invited, oui. I was not going to go but perhaps if you - and your friend here - will be there, I will change my mind. You will be there, yes?" he asked, his eyes always on Sheila.
"I'm not sure. I don't know anyone in town yet," Sheila answered, thinking how few fancy dresses she owned. Sitting at home watching hockey didn't require an extensive wardrobe expense.
"Of course she's going! Aren't you, Sheila? You have to start meeting people socially! Yes, wel'll both be there!" Estelle answered for them both.
"Good! You have made me a happy guy! A bientot," he responded, moving away from them to serve the now long line of customers.
"I can't come to your cocktail party," Sheila told Estelle. "You go without me. I'll spend a quiet night watching TV."
"Not on your life! You left Hal to start again. This is as good a time as any, girl!"
"But...I don't have the right clothes," Sheila protested.
"I'll lend you something from mine. Listen - we're going and that's that! Right now let's go back and eat."
Driving back to Estelle's apartment, Sheila kept thinking about Jean-Paul's deep-blue eyes and Jean-Paul in general. Fate had stepped in and now she was about to embark on her new life. Glancing at Estelle as she raved on about all Jean-Paul's assets, she realized that her new friendship could put their friendship at risk. It was, she decided, a risk worth taking.
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/
"You have beautiful eyes," Sheila said, staring at the stranger accross the counter, her voice barely audible. "I've never seen such a deep shade of aqua...like the water in the Bahamas."
A loud masculine laugh broke their silence as Jean-Paul threw his head back, obviously enjoying the moment.
"Oh mon Dieu! You are so amusant!" he commented, reaching over the counter to touch the top of Sheila's hand. "I have never visited this place you speak, but you, ma cherie, have the soul of a poet!"
Unprepared for his compliment, Sheila felt her cheeks get warm and she licked her lips nervously.
"I mean to say... That is...the water in the Bahamas is so beautiful - and blue..."
"Why don't you quit while you're ahead?" Estelle said, through clenched teeth and a forced smile on her lips. "My friend here isn't used to compliments from men, are you sweety? You know french men - always with the compliments, right Jean-Paul? Don't I know it!"
Aware that her friend was upset, Sheila pulled her hand away from his and removed it from the counter.
"So many delicious things to choose from. I love chocolate but those eclaires look so tempting. Help me, Estelle!"
"You seem to be doing well on your own," Estelle laughed. "Okay. Give us a half-dozen plain croissants and six of the almond. Oh and a french bread."
"What about you, cherie? Don't you want something good, too?" Jean-Paul asked, a bemused expression on his face. "If you want I can make some suggestions.
"Jean-Paul is very good at suggestions. He's a very creative guy," Estelle offered, a smirk at the corner of her lips.
"Is - how you say - the cat eat your tongue?" Jean-Paul asked, bending over the counter his face directly in front of Sheila's.
"That would be 'cat got your tongue,' Sheila gently corrected, chuckling. "I just can't make up my mind!"
"I shall do it for you!" Jean-Paul said. "That is - if you want. I am the master when it comes to pastries."
"And a lot of other things," Estelle added. "Please help her so we can go home and have breakfast?"
Turning around, Jean-Paul studied the pastry displayed on the counters.
"Well...we could try a bichon au citron or eclair. I think, for you, the eclair. Firm on the outside hiding a soft sweet whipped cream center in the middle. You agree, yes?" Jean-Paul said, sliding an eclair out of the refrigerator and gently moving it to a small box.
"How much do I owe you?" Sheila asked, staring down at the box to hide her embarrassment.
"Will you please tell us how much we owe you, JP, or I'm gonna starve to death!" Estelle said, grabbing the boxes of croissants and pastry box.
"Today, I shall give you a gift, my friend," Jean-Paul said while staring at Sheila. "It will cost you nothing. I am happy."
"Happy today, happy tomorrow - let's go home! I'm ravenous!" Estelle jumped in. "By the way, JP, are you gonna be at Beth Ellen and Brian's cocktail party, tomorrow night?"
"I was invited, oui. I was not going to go but perhaps if you - and your friend here - will be there, I will change my mind. You will be there, yes?" he asked, his eyes always on Sheila.
"I'm not sure. I don't know anyone in town yet," Sheila answered, thinking how few fancy dresses she owned. Sitting at home watching hockey didn't require an extensive wardrobe expense.
"Of course she's going! Aren't you, Sheila? You have to start meeting people socially! Yes, wel'll both be there!" Estelle answered for them both.
"Good! You have made me a happy guy! A bientot," he responded, moving away from them to serve the now long line of customers.
"I can't come to your cocktail party," Sheila told Estelle. "You go without me. I'll spend a quiet night watching TV."
"Not on your life! You left Hal to start again. This is as good a time as any, girl!"
"But...I don't have the right clothes," Sheila protested.
"I'll lend you something from mine. Listen - we're going and that's that! Right now let's go back and eat."
Driving back to Estelle's apartment, Sheila kept thinking about Jean-Paul's deep-blue eyes and Jean-Paul in general. Fate had stepped in and now she was about to embark on her new life. Glancing at Estelle as she raved on about all Jean-Paul's assets, she realized that her new friendship could put their friendship at risk. It was, she decided, a risk worth taking.
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/
Saturday, January 3, 2009
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/
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/
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
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/
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/
Monday, June 23, 2008
Hal gets his just dessert
by Eleanor Tylbor
What's for dessert?" he hollered from the den, "and bring it in to me. And this time watch how many spoons of sugar you put in the coffee. Better yet - add some of that sweetener crap you use. I gotta watch my weight - no thanks to you."
Sheila picked up the cake knife and stared at for a while, a feeling of rage building inside, but cut two slices of cake instead. One large one for Hal and a sliver for her.
She carried them into the den pausing at the door entrance to pose seductively in the negligee she had bought for their special occasion, allowing it to fall open.
"Do you want…cream with your coffee?" she asked, the tone of her voice inviting and alluring.
"You kidding? I just told you I'm watching my diet," he answered, his eyes never leaving the TV screen.
"Are you sure you don't want some…cream, just for tonight?" she asked, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, in an attempt to attract his attention.
"You deaf? I just this minute told you I'm trying to lose some pounds!" he answered, his voice was taking on a definite edge. "I swear. Sometimes I think you're deaf!"
Swinging her hips and moving provocatively in his direction, Sheila didn't notice the empty dinner plate on the floor near his armchair, until she was almost on top of it. As foot met plate she skidded forward, hurtling the cake straight ahead where it landed on Hal's massive knees. Staring down at his lap he looked at the remnants of the cake and then at Amy.
"No milk in my coffee?" Hal said unemotionally.
Sprawled on the floor, her negligee ripped down the side, she felt she was on the verge of hysteria. A cry of agony born out of frustration was slowly forming in her throat.
"Do you know what just happened?" Sheila screamed, slowly regaining her composure and standing up. "Are you blind or so indifferent to my presence that nothing about me affects you anymore?"
"Shoot! They're losing!" Hal said choking up, his voice on the verge of tears. "Our team is losing, Sheila! What are we gonna do?"
"That's really too bad," she commented, pulling herself to a standing position in front of him. "This will mean something to you, being a hockey fan and all. My version of icing."
She grabbed a handful of cake in each hand and smeared the chocolate topping accross her husband's face.
"And this is a loose puck," she stated sarcastically, picking up the plate and hurling it at the television screen. "See? I learned that from you! At least you contributed something positive to our marriage!" Amy said calmly, turning on her heels and leaving the room. When she returned, she was fully dressed with a suitcase in her hand.
"I'm leaving you, Hal," she announced matter-of-factly. "Don't come looking or trying to find me."
Opening the door she hesitated for an instant, hoping for some type of emotional response or sign that would stop her exit, but it never came.
"Don't be home late," he responded dispassionately, staring at the smoking TV.
"By the way Hal - happy birthday," she said, closing the door behind her.
Walking down the hall towards the elevator she put her hand in her pocket and took out the business card Mike had handed her earlier in the week.
'Michael Pickering, divorce lawyer.' What was it that Estelle always said? A woman marries hoping he will change but he doesn't, and a man marries hoping she won't change and she does. Time for new beginnings. She flagged down a taxi and never looked back.
"173 Center Street," she told the driver.
One thing for sure - sharing the same space with Estelle would be interesting.
To be continued...
What's for dessert?" he hollered from the den, "and bring it in to me. And this time watch how many spoons of sugar you put in the coffee. Better yet - add some of that sweetener crap you use. I gotta watch my weight - no thanks to you."
Sheila picked up the cake knife and stared at for a while, a feeling of rage building inside, but cut two slices of cake instead. One large one for Hal and a sliver for her.
She carried them into the den pausing at the door entrance to pose seductively in the negligee she had bought for their special occasion, allowing it to fall open.
"Do you want…cream with your coffee?" she asked, the tone of her voice inviting and alluring.
"You kidding? I just told you I'm watching my diet," he answered, his eyes never leaving the TV screen.
"Are you sure you don't want some…cream, just for tonight?" she asked, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, in an attempt to attract his attention.
"You deaf? I just this minute told you I'm trying to lose some pounds!" he answered, his voice was taking on a definite edge. "I swear. Sometimes I think you're deaf!"
Swinging her hips and moving provocatively in his direction, Sheila didn't notice the empty dinner plate on the floor near his armchair, until she was almost on top of it. As foot met plate she skidded forward, hurtling the cake straight ahead where it landed on Hal's massive knees. Staring down at his lap he looked at the remnants of the cake and then at Amy.
"No milk in my coffee?" Hal said unemotionally.
Sprawled on the floor, her negligee ripped down the side, she felt she was on the verge of hysteria. A cry of agony born out of frustration was slowly forming in her throat.
"Do you know what just happened?" Sheila screamed, slowly regaining her composure and standing up. "Are you blind or so indifferent to my presence that nothing about me affects you anymore?"
"Shoot! They're losing!" Hal said choking up, his voice on the verge of tears. "Our team is losing, Sheila! What are we gonna do?"
"That's really too bad," she commented, pulling herself to a standing position in front of him. "This will mean something to you, being a hockey fan and all. My version of icing."
She grabbed a handful of cake in each hand and smeared the chocolate topping accross her husband's face.
"And this is a loose puck," she stated sarcastically, picking up the plate and hurling it at the television screen. "See? I learned that from you! At least you contributed something positive to our marriage!" Amy said calmly, turning on her heels and leaving the room. When she returned, she was fully dressed with a suitcase in her hand.
"I'm leaving you, Hal," she announced matter-of-factly. "Don't come looking or trying to find me."
Opening the door she hesitated for an instant, hoping for some type of emotional response or sign that would stop her exit, but it never came.
"Don't be home late," he responded dispassionately, staring at the smoking TV.
"By the way Hal - happy birthday," she said, closing the door behind her.
Walking down the hall towards the elevator she put her hand in her pocket and took out the business card Mike had handed her earlier in the week.
'Michael Pickering, divorce lawyer.' What was it that Estelle always said? A woman marries hoping he will change but he doesn't, and a man marries hoping she won't change and she does. Time for new beginnings. She flagged down a taxi and never looked back.
"173 Center Street," she told the driver.
One thing for sure - sharing the same space with Estelle would be interesting.
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/
Sunday, June 15, 2008
A serving of hockey to go
By Eleanor Tylbor
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 wineglasses 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 in hell made you think I would eat this crap?"
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.
Next was the steak tartar 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...one 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," 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, but 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.
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/
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 wineglasses 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 in hell made you think I would eat this crap?"
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.
Next was the steak tartar 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...one 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," 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, but 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.
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/
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