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The Writer

The feelings of an aspiring writer as she struggles to put her idea on paper.

For Patricia.
01 December 2011

Frank Is In Love.

Wandering around aimlessly he had forgotten what Maggie had asked him to get.  Pushing the trolley blindly he turned sharply at the end of the aisle and knocked this vision in white off her feet and down onto her behind, her shopping basket and its contents

rolling and splitting open all over the floor.

“I am so terribly sorry” he gasped as he placed his arms around her slender body and physically raised her to her feet.  She glanced into his eyes and smiled the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. 

“No harm done” she replied bending gracefully to retrieve her runaway shopping.

“I’ll pay for...” as he leaned down to pick up a loaf of bread from the floor their bodies touched  and his nostrils filled with her aroma.  His heart skipped a beat as his breath caught in his throat like a solid ball of fluff.

“Don’t worry” she laughed “no serious damage.  Thank you”.  She picked up the remainder of the packages and placed them in her basket and with a last smile she turned and walked away.

Frank stood glued to the spot.  His heart racing so fast he couldn’t catch his breath as he watched her glide down the aisle and away from him.

The days passed so slowly that he didn’t think he would live until Friday  when he hoped she would return to the supermarket.

He woke up in the mornings with her face on his eyelids before he had even opened them.  Looking at his face in the shaving mirror he saw her eyes: large, blue and sparkling like blue/white diamonds, as he opened the fridge he saw her walking down the aisle and at night when he lay in his bed he could smell her aroma.  The entire week was a nightmare, his arms longed to hold her and he imaged them around her waist as they had been when he lifted her gently from the ground.

The truck was hot and he dare not turn the engine on as he sat in the rapidly fading daylight.  The minutes ticked like hours as his heart jumped whenever a car pulled into the carpark.   He didn’t even know what car she had.  Perhaps she didn’t shop on a Friday after all – oh God, he just wanted to see her.  His eyes filled with tears as he turned the key and started the engine, a furious blast of air-conditioning blowing the tears from his cheeks towards his ears.  Wiping his cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt he suddenly saw her walking towards the sliding doors of the supermarket.  Then it happened: the pain..... just off centre in his chest.  When it passed he ran across the carpark and through the sliding doors forgetting to get a trolley.  Fumbling for small change he ran back out and placed the coin into the shopping trolley, pulled it viciously out of the long line and aimed it at the sliding doors.  He glanced wildly around the supermarket – nothing! 

Walking madly up and down the aisles he suddenly stopped.  What was he doing? Seven days ago he had bumped into a beautiful woman and for the entire week she had dominated his every waking thought.  What kind of an idiot was he?  Nearly 60 he hadn’t felt the way he did at this very minute since he was a young man courting his wife. 

“Hello, not in such a hurry today I see”.  He didn’t have to turn around, he already knew her face intimately, in just a few seconds that fateful Friday afternoon her features had become indelibly printed into his mind.

“Yes, no, I mean...” tongue tied and shaking like a leaf he tried to keep his voice level

“Do you normally shop on a Friday?”.

“Yes, do you?”

“Mmm mostly”.

And that’s how it started.  Every week they would meet in the carpark, do their shopping together, share shy smiles, tell each other jokes and laugh.  Oh the joy of laughter, it had been so long since he had laughed with such joy and abandon.  Frank was falling in love.  On a few occasions their hands had touched sending electric shocks through his entire body. The weeks became unbearably long until he would see her again.  He knew she felt the same way – her eyes said it all.

Their shopping trips became longer and longer, they started going to the coffee bar across from the supermarket and then one day as he walked her to her car he took her in his arms and she melted into his kiss.

I can’t go on any longer.  I can’t live without her.  My life is an empty shell when she isn’t with me.  She makes me laugh.  She makes me feel like a man again. Oh Lord, please help me!  Just make it possible for us to be together.

Frank was a desperate man.   For many years he had just functioned.  He had a beautiful home, his beautiful bike, his cool truck and everything a man could want but, he was miserably unhappy. 

He wanted to leave it all.  The house, the bike, he’d have to take the truck,  after all, where would he put his things?  Yes, where would he put his things?

Frank was in love, but Frank had not lost his mind.  He had worked hard for what he had.  He deserved what he had.

A month later Frank sat with his wife and explained that he wanted to end their marriage.  He had sorted all his finances and decided that they would put the house on the market and split the proceeds.  There were no children but he would provide a small pension so she wouldn’t have to struggle, after all they had been married for thirty years.

Maggie smiled – the first real, warm,  smile he had seen in years.  “I think that’s a very good idea, neither of us are happy and perhaps we can remain friends”.

And they have!  Five years later he visits for dinner once a month and they laugh over the silliest things.  Frank lives with his girlfriend Joanna in another state, the beautiful lady in white couldn’t bring herself to leave her beautiful home and wealthy husband.

And they all lived happily ever after, especially Frank who didn’t give up his entire life for a few precious moments.

 



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The Shopping Mall.
23 November 2011

 My Local Shopping Mall.

 

 

 

Arriving ten minutes before opening time at 10 am., I sat in the waiting area outside (see picture) and looked across at the crowd gathering tightly around the door in order to be the first through.  Why do we do this?  The mall’s capacity is for thousands, the crowd, roughly 50 people of all shapes and sizes speaking Spanish, English, German and Danish are surreptitiously jostling to position themselves in front of the crack so that as the doors slide open their dainty size 42’s are the first to tread those shiny ceramic tiles. 

 

Now I say size 42’s because these competitive characters are all men.  The ladies are all hanging back; the older ones rolling their granny wheelies backward and forward with a faraway look in their eyes, the middle aged ones leaning on one leg and tapping the toe of the foot on the other leg as if in time to some silent orchestra and the younger ones idly looking at their nails, adjusting their clothing, sussing the talent and generally looking absolutely stunning in Spanish, English, German and Danish. What time do these ladies get up in the morning?  Everything is in place, perfect, controlled and styling.  Boy, I am SO glad I’m not a man (of any age) in this country where the women walk around half naked showing off their perfectly tanned and toned bodies. 

 

Anyway, back to the boyz….  now once upon a time Spain was where the females were gorgeous until they married and then they let themselves go to fat but now,  as I watch these testosterone fuelled specimens of manhood vying to be first, I notice that the younger ones are all muscles and machismo, supplement and gym toned to perfection. Their slightly older brothers starting to go to seed and then what looks like the  40-60 age group which I had always found very sexy are saggy, unkempt and decidedly miserable looking.  There are today,  just a few 60+ and guess what guys, they are standing in the 2nd row watching the front row in amusement.  I can literally feel their mirth from here – they have nothing to prove – they KNOW the coup.

 

The doors  open, the rush was on, the crowd is gone and a gaping void awaits  my dainty 38’s.

 

 

                 



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Writing.
22 November 2011

Your Turn Now. 

Rosario breathed a sigh of relief and pressed the buttons on the door for the two front windows to go down quietly.

The open road ahead looked so good after sitting in the city’s traffic jams for so long. Turning the music up louder she wriggled comfortably and settled in for the 600 kms., drive. Isn’t it amazing she thought, the sun is shining and the temperature is 30º yet the breeze wafting in is reasonably cool.

Suddenly a big silver Mercedes glides up by her side and rests parallel seemingly quite happy to just ride alongside her little Seat. As she looks over to the driver her heart skips a beat, her breath catches in her throat and an involuntary reaction makes her turn the steering wheel towards the vehicle by her side and she feels a gentle bump as wing touches wing almost like a fleeting kiss between two lovers. Oh my God she thinks as she takes her foot off the accelerator and coasts into the hard shoulder.

Pulling up she looks into the rear view mirror but there is nothing, just empty road ahead and behind her. Turning around she can’t believe her eyes “Where is it” she says out loud. No sign. She unbuckles her safety belt and steps out onto the tarmac. Walking around the car she looks up and down the road but there isn’t another car to be seen Where has it gone? She had seen it, she had bumped it. Panicking she rushes to the damaged wing but it isn’t damaged. Her head spins and she falls against the car sliding slowly down to the ground in slow motion like one of those dramatic scenes in a cheesy play.

Seconds later she seems to come-to, shaking her head and struggling to her feet she walks slowly around to the driver’s side climbs in and puts the safety belt on.

Cruising at 80 kms., an hour with the sun beating down Rosario realises that there aren’t any other cars on the road, she looks across the barrier to the other side and there aren’t any on that side either.

This is surreal she thinks. Everything is in slow motion and... she feels more than sees a shadow to her right. She desperately fights the urge to look until she can’t control it any longer and then turns to see him riding along beside her in his big silver Mercedes.

Looking straight into her dead husband’s eyes she knows..... “Oh Antonio” she says “I knew you would come back for me but I didn’t think it would be this soon! The children are young, I haven’t made provision for them. I haven’t written a will. I, I....”

The impact as she hits the lorry head on kills her instantly and in that split second before she dies she feels a smile cross her face as she remembers that the twins are strapped into their car chairs on the back seat. They aren’t going to be orphans after all.

 

 

 -   END   -



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