Brigit's Flame August Week One
Dressed in a shadow
Author: JellybeanChiChi
The following is my first entry in the Brigit's Flame August contest. The prompt was Shadows of Self.
--
The heat of the day made an impression on the man. Sweat matted his hair, leaving a residue of grime that shined in the fading beams of the afternoon sun.
After hours of pushing a grocery cart, he stopped on the sidewalk and rubbed his dirty hands over his tired face. There was no telling the original color of his t-shirt, but at the moment it sported stains and showed signs of obvious wear and tear. His slacks looked worse, and he needed a belt as evidenced by the constant motion of pulling up his pants.
The setting sun created a long shadow behind the man and as it stretched along the sidewalk, he turned his head toward the traffic piling up behind the red light. His eyes met a man in a blue Honda Civic.
The loud sound of a car horn jostled Devin Jordan back to his task of driving. The light had changed, but Devin couldn’t take his eyes off the man with the shopping cart. When he took a long look at the man’s face and eyes, Devin was lost.
He knew the man.
A year ago, he shared many drinks with him in a raunchy bar that was his oasis for so many nights and afternoons, … hell, even some mornings.
And now he watched the man grow smaller and smaller in his rear view mirror.
It got Devin thinking about whether the man looked better or worse or the same as when they sat together in that shit hole that only true alcoholics could appreciate. When Devin had entered the joint and encountered a regular who ran out of cash, he would buy a shot for the poor bastard, just to have someone to share a toast. He could wax poetic about the sound of two glasses clinking after the bearing of a few words of wisdom, but the truth was he just wanted a civilized excuse to swallow another shot of amber liquid.
But that was a year ago. Clean and sober. That's Devin. And yet, he still couldn't get his shit together. He still felt like he is failing. He still felt like he is a shadow of the man he should be.
“What the fuck?” Devin said to no one. “That could have been me. But it’s not me. It’s not me.”
Even saying the statement out loud didn’t improve Devin’s state of mind. Since his sobriety he has learned to try and deal with stress differently. His best defense - laughter, nervous fucking laughter. As he felt a chuckle bubble from his gut, Devin sighed and kept his eyes on the road.
Until his eyes connected with something else on the side of the road.
Trudy Davis was taking items from the outside of her antiques and consignment shop inside for the evening. She had felt confident enough to put a few items outside to inspire looky lous to stop by the shop.
She never thought it would inspire some crazy jackass to turn his car around in the middle of the road and peel out to make a beeline into her shop. But that’s exactly what some jackass in a blue Honda Civic did.
Devin jumped out of his car and ran up to the shop. “MA’AM! Excuse me! Ma’am!”
Trudy clutched the item in her hand before speaking. “What the hell is wrong with you? You think you’re at the Indy 500 or something? Kids could have been on the street.”
Devin caught his breath. “I’m sorry,” he said, a chuckle behind his apology. Damn nervous laughter. “Ma’am, please I just… I just saw that dress and I had to stop. I’m sorry.”
Trudy gave the man a stupefied look. “This wedding dress? You busted up your tires for a wedding dress?”
“I think it was mine,” Devin said. “I mean. I think my wife, … well, she’s not my wife anymore.. I mean… we’ve been separated. … See, I’ve had some problems but I’ve been dealing with them…”
Trudy’s patience was wearing thin. She just wanted to close up and have some wine and a cigarette. “Look, buddy. I’d like to close up the shop. What do you want?”
Devin nodded his head and opened up his wallet, trying to find something. “I just wanted to know … um… do you remember the woman who brought this in?”
“Yeah. Me and Denise were here when she came in a week ago.”
Devin extracted a photo from his wallet. “Is this her?” It was his wedding photo from eight years ago. He was struck by how much he had changed. Maybe he really was a shadow of his former, younger self.
Trudy looked at it distastefully. “Maybe.” She sighed and opened the shop door. “Come in. Denise could tell you better.” Trudy opened the door for Devin, who was trying to say “thank you,” but was interrupted by Trudy’s screaming. “DENISE! GET OUT OF THE JOHN AND GET OVER HERE!”
Devin nodded again. And snorted. Damn nervous laughter.
“WHAT! Jeez Trudy, what the hell,” said Denise, a lady in her 50s who looked like she did her share of drinking and smoking. She noticed Devin standing there and straightened her pant suit just for him. “Oh, hello there, stranger. What brings you here?”
“This dress,” Trudy said. “You remember the gal who brought it in? He thinks it was his ex-wife.”
“Well, actually, we’re only separated …” Devin’s voice faltered as Trudy gave him a look to stop him before he started again.
“Show her the photo, Andretti.”
“Yes, this is her, ma’am, in the dress,” Devin gave the photo to Denise and stood with his hands in his back pockets.
Denise gave it a close look and revealed a hint of recognition. “Yeah, she did. But she looks older now.”
“We all do, sweetheart,” Trudy said, before turning back to Devin. “So, Romeo, you got your answer.”
Devin couldn’t take his eyes off the dress. “How much is it?”
Trudy didn’t miss a beat. “$300.”
Denise swatted her. “Oh, for Christ’s sake Trudy. He wants his wife’s dress.”
Trudy rolled her eyes and yielded. “Fine, $150, but don’t come messing up our lot with your car.”
Devin took out his credit card and left with a single word of thanks and a snicker. But he welcomed the nerves at this point.
He gently laid the dress on the passenger seat of his car and drove off. He didn’t think much about his destination for fear of changing his mind at any minute. Maybe this would be the catalyst. Maybe this was what had been missing. Maybe this offered one more chance.
Devin stopped the car in front of Jaime’s house and drew a long breath. Again, he pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind to avoid turning back. Now or never.
He rang the bell and all a sudden all he could think about was the goofy look on his face. “Oh God,” he thought. “Do I smile? Do I look sad? Remorseful? Hopeful? Seductive? Shit, is this my seductive look or constipated look?”
As he stirred over his facial features, the door opened and his gaze locked with the woman at the door.
And she looked at him like he was a salesman carrying a steaming bag of shit.
“Oh, God. It’s you,” said Jaime, the woman in his photo who gave up her bridal gown a mere week ago. “What do you want, Devin?”
“Hey. It’s been a long time,” Devin said. “You look great”
“I know. Amazing what happens when you lose 170 pounds of crap,” Jaime said “Or are you 160 pounds?”
Devin let out a laugh. Hey, he wasn’t the perfect husband, so he probably deserved that. But he was a man on a mission. A man who was trying to regain his strength - a strength possibly possessed by the woman in front of him who looked at him like he was a 5-year-old digging for treasure up his nose.
“Jaime, I know I might be the last person on Earth you want to talk to, but I saw something today that reminded me of you and I had to bring it to you,” Devin said. “Please, Jaime, I know you want to slam the door, but just give me a minute.”
Devin ran back to his car, practically running backwards to make sure Jaime didn’t go back into the house. He retrieved the wedding dress and ran back up to the door.
“I saw this,” he said proudly.
“This,” Jaime said, completely unimpressed. “Devin, you shithead, of course this reminded you of me. It’s my fucking wedding dress. What did you do? Go to the consignment shop and buy it?”
A look of defeat crossed his face. “Well, yeah. I did. I saw it outside and I turned the car around and I went up and asked if they recognized you. I still keep our wedding photo in my wallet.”
“Really?” Jaime said with a laugh. “You do know we’re no longer married, right, genius?”
“Well, actually we’re separated,” Devin said. “Jaime, don’t you find this a tad romantic?”
“No,” she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “But I do find it pathetic. You see, Devin, it would be romantic if you were, oh I don’t know, anybody but you. But because you are you, it is just a pathetic move by a man who thankfully stopped being my husband some time ago.”
“But Jaime, please. I’ve changed. I’ve been clean and sober…”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Clean and sober for a year. That’s great, Devin. So now you aren’t a drunk, pathetic, boring loser. You just a regular, old pathetic, boring loser who wasted money buying his EX-WIFE’S wedding dress in a miserable attempt to get laid.”
“That’s not what I was thinking.”
“Yeah, it was.”
“No, it wasn’t.” Devin no longer possessed that nervous laugh. “And how am I an asshole? You kicked me out after I found you in bed with Carl Anderson from work.”
“Was it Carl?” Jaime said, her arms crossed. “I thought it was Alan Carlton. So hard to keep track.”
“You have no feelings for me whatsoever, do you?” Devin asked, wishing the words never left his lips.
“Not for a long time, dickhead. See ya.”
And with that, Jaime slammed the door.
Devin stood at the door for a minute and then walked slowly to his car. As he did he heard a voice in his head loudly exclaim, “She drove you to drink.”
At that, Devin let out a laugh. The voice was probably right, but that didn’t mean she would drive him in that direction today.
Maybe not being married wasn’t a failure after all. Maybe being clean and sober for a year was something to be proud of. Maybe he wasn’t the shadow of his former self, but was finding his true self piece by piece.
And maybe the greatest discovery Devin made today wasn’t found at a shop.
But the discovery did involve a shopping cart.
END
Author: JellybeanChiChi
The following is my first entry in the Brigit's Flame August contest. The prompt was Shadows of Self.
--
The heat of the day made an impression on the man. Sweat matted his hair, leaving a residue of grime that shined in the fading beams of the afternoon sun.
After hours of pushing a grocery cart, he stopped on the sidewalk and rubbed his dirty hands over his tired face. There was no telling the original color of his t-shirt, but at the moment it sported stains and showed signs of obvious wear and tear. His slacks looked worse, and he needed a belt as evidenced by the constant motion of pulling up his pants.
The setting sun created a long shadow behind the man and as it stretched along the sidewalk, he turned his head toward the traffic piling up behind the red light. His eyes met a man in a blue Honda Civic.
The loud sound of a car horn jostled Devin Jordan back to his task of driving. The light had changed, but Devin couldn’t take his eyes off the man with the shopping cart. When he took a long look at the man’s face and eyes, Devin was lost.
He knew the man.
A year ago, he shared many drinks with him in a raunchy bar that was his oasis for so many nights and afternoons, … hell, even some mornings.
And now he watched the man grow smaller and smaller in his rear view mirror.
It got Devin thinking about whether the man looked better or worse or the same as when they sat together in that shit hole that only true alcoholics could appreciate. When Devin had entered the joint and encountered a regular who ran out of cash, he would buy a shot for the poor bastard, just to have someone to share a toast. He could wax poetic about the sound of two glasses clinking after the bearing of a few words of wisdom, but the truth was he just wanted a civilized excuse to swallow another shot of amber liquid.
But that was a year ago. Clean and sober. That's Devin. And yet, he still couldn't get his shit together. He still felt like he is failing. He still felt like he is a shadow of the man he should be.
“What the fuck?” Devin said to no one. “That could have been me. But it’s not me. It’s not me.”
Even saying the statement out loud didn’t improve Devin’s state of mind. Since his sobriety he has learned to try and deal with stress differently. His best defense - laughter, nervous fucking laughter. As he felt a chuckle bubble from his gut, Devin sighed and kept his eyes on the road.
Until his eyes connected with something else on the side of the road.
Trudy Davis was taking items from the outside of her antiques and consignment shop inside for the evening. She had felt confident enough to put a few items outside to inspire looky lous to stop by the shop.
She never thought it would inspire some crazy jackass to turn his car around in the middle of the road and peel out to make a beeline into her shop. But that’s exactly what some jackass in a blue Honda Civic did.
Devin jumped out of his car and ran up to the shop. “MA’AM! Excuse me! Ma’am!”
Trudy clutched the item in her hand before speaking. “What the hell is wrong with you? You think you’re at the Indy 500 or something? Kids could have been on the street.”
Devin caught his breath. “I’m sorry,” he said, a chuckle behind his apology. Damn nervous laughter. “Ma’am, please I just… I just saw that dress and I had to stop. I’m sorry.”
Trudy gave the man a stupefied look. “This wedding dress? You busted up your tires for a wedding dress?”
“I think it was mine,” Devin said. “I mean. I think my wife, … well, she’s not my wife anymore.. I mean… we’ve been separated. … See, I’ve had some problems but I’ve been dealing with them…”
Trudy’s patience was wearing thin. She just wanted to close up and have some wine and a cigarette. “Look, buddy. I’d like to close up the shop. What do you want?”
Devin nodded his head and opened up his wallet, trying to find something. “I just wanted to know … um… do you remember the woman who brought this in?”
“Yeah. Me and Denise were here when she came in a week ago.”
Devin extracted a photo from his wallet. “Is this her?” It was his wedding photo from eight years ago. He was struck by how much he had changed. Maybe he really was a shadow of his former, younger self.
Trudy looked at it distastefully. “Maybe.” She sighed and opened the shop door. “Come in. Denise could tell you better.” Trudy opened the door for Devin, who was trying to say “thank you,” but was interrupted by Trudy’s screaming. “DENISE! GET OUT OF THE JOHN AND GET OVER HERE!”
Devin nodded again. And snorted. Damn nervous laughter.
“WHAT! Jeez Trudy, what the hell,” said Denise, a lady in her 50s who looked like she did her share of drinking and smoking. She noticed Devin standing there and straightened her pant suit just for him. “Oh, hello there, stranger. What brings you here?”
“This dress,” Trudy said. “You remember the gal who brought it in? He thinks it was his ex-wife.”
“Well, actually, we’re only separated …” Devin’s voice faltered as Trudy gave him a look to stop him before he started again.
“Show her the photo, Andretti.”
“Yes, this is her, ma’am, in the dress,” Devin gave the photo to Denise and stood with his hands in his back pockets.
Denise gave it a close look and revealed a hint of recognition. “Yeah, she did. But she looks older now.”
“We all do, sweetheart,” Trudy said, before turning back to Devin. “So, Romeo, you got your answer.”
Devin couldn’t take his eyes off the dress. “How much is it?”
Trudy didn’t miss a beat. “$300.”
Denise swatted her. “Oh, for Christ’s sake Trudy. He wants his wife’s dress.”
Trudy rolled her eyes and yielded. “Fine, $150, but don’t come messing up our lot with your car.”
Devin took out his credit card and left with a single word of thanks and a snicker. But he welcomed the nerves at this point.
He gently laid the dress on the passenger seat of his car and drove off. He didn’t think much about his destination for fear of changing his mind at any minute. Maybe this would be the catalyst. Maybe this was what had been missing. Maybe this offered one more chance.
Devin stopped the car in front of Jaime’s house and drew a long breath. Again, he pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind to avoid turning back. Now or never.
He rang the bell and all a sudden all he could think about was the goofy look on his face. “Oh God,” he thought. “Do I smile? Do I look sad? Remorseful? Hopeful? Seductive? Shit, is this my seductive look or constipated look?”
As he stirred over his facial features, the door opened and his gaze locked with the woman at the door.
And she looked at him like he was a salesman carrying a steaming bag of shit.
“Oh, God. It’s you,” said Jaime, the woman in his photo who gave up her bridal gown a mere week ago. “What do you want, Devin?”
“Hey. It’s been a long time,” Devin said. “You look great”
“I know. Amazing what happens when you lose 170 pounds of crap,” Jaime said “Or are you 160 pounds?”
Devin let out a laugh. Hey, he wasn’t the perfect husband, so he probably deserved that. But he was a man on a mission. A man who was trying to regain his strength - a strength possibly possessed by the woman in front of him who looked at him like he was a 5-year-old digging for treasure up his nose.
“Jaime, I know I might be the last person on Earth you want to talk to, but I saw something today that reminded me of you and I had to bring it to you,” Devin said. “Please, Jaime, I know you want to slam the door, but just give me a minute.”
Devin ran back to his car, practically running backwards to make sure Jaime didn’t go back into the house. He retrieved the wedding dress and ran back up to the door.
“I saw this,” he said proudly.
“This,” Jaime said, completely unimpressed. “Devin, you shithead, of course this reminded you of me. It’s my fucking wedding dress. What did you do? Go to the consignment shop and buy it?”
A look of defeat crossed his face. “Well, yeah. I did. I saw it outside and I turned the car around and I went up and asked if they recognized you. I still keep our wedding photo in my wallet.”
“Really?” Jaime said with a laugh. “You do know we’re no longer married, right, genius?”
“Well, actually we’re separated,” Devin said. “Jaime, don’t you find this a tad romantic?”
“No,” she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “But I do find it pathetic. You see, Devin, it would be romantic if you were, oh I don’t know, anybody but you. But because you are you, it is just a pathetic move by a man who thankfully stopped being my husband some time ago.”
“But Jaime, please. I’ve changed. I’ve been clean and sober…”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Clean and sober for a year. That’s great, Devin. So now you aren’t a drunk, pathetic, boring loser. You just a regular, old pathetic, boring loser who wasted money buying his EX-WIFE’S wedding dress in a miserable attempt to get laid.”
“That’s not what I was thinking.”
“Yeah, it was.”
“No, it wasn’t.” Devin no longer possessed that nervous laugh. “And how am I an asshole? You kicked me out after I found you in bed with Carl Anderson from work.”
“Was it Carl?” Jaime said, her arms crossed. “I thought it was Alan Carlton. So hard to keep track.”
“You have no feelings for me whatsoever, do you?” Devin asked, wishing the words never left his lips.
“Not for a long time, dickhead. See ya.”
And with that, Jaime slammed the door.
Devin stood at the door for a minute and then walked slowly to his car. As he did he heard a voice in his head loudly exclaim, “She drove you to drink.”
At that, Devin let out a laugh. The voice was probably right, but that didn’t mean she would drive him in that direction today.
Maybe not being married wasn’t a failure after all. Maybe being clean and sober for a year was something to be proud of. Maybe he wasn’t the shadow of his former self, but was finding his true self piece by piece.
And maybe the greatest discovery Devin made today wasn’t found at a shop.
But the discovery did involve a shopping cart.
END