Storytime - Tye-dyed
Thanks for the prompt evil_little_dog. Sorry it took me so long to write this.
Original work. Please respect author rights.
“A blank page,” she’d said. “This is a new leaf, for both of us.”
He inhaled as deeply as he could stretch the lungs in his chest then released the breath in a slow, heavy realization of the futility of arguing with her.
Marisol was such a bookworm. Once she’d phrased a situation in a manner her literary brain could understand, she wouldn’t part with the words or the decision.
They were through.
Trust her to end the happiest relationship he’d ever had with a pithy analogy.
His eyes wandered in an unfocused way.
Had he been happy?
Thinking of humor made him uneasy. His parents may have argued at times, but they also laughed together. Quite frequently, in fact. When was the last time he’d laughed?
And Marisol’s laugh, how did it go again? Had it been such a rare sound in their lives?
Only eight days had passed since he left her apartment with the bag she’d thrust in his arms, trusting he would go back to his place and start life over again. But he hadn’t. They’d been happy together. They were meant to be together.
Yet, he couldn’t remember hearing her laugh. And when was the last time he’d expressed merriment?
His eyes began tracing a random bit of chaos on the bus - color and discord locked in a pleasant embrace of movement that defied understanding on the canvas in front of him.
“Ahem.”
His gaze flicked up and met eyes so deeply brown they appeared black.
“Are you staring at my breasts?”
He felt his brows squish together in concern. Had he? A flick down and back again confirmed he had been staring at her blouse and the striking random pattern upon it.
“Is that some sort of new tie dye?” he stammered out. “I’m sorry, but it caught my eye and.”
“Oh. Oh!” Her pursed lips parted and let loose a merry arrangement of musical staccatos. “No! I’m wearing an unintentional mess. Spilled my coffee and cream, wrung it out, and tried one of those spot cleaning pens on it, only I picked up a bleach one by accident.”
His gaze flicked down and back one more time. “It truly is a beautiful mess then. I thought. Well, it seemed deliberate and pleasant, and it was balanced and yet random, and I apologize but the colors were.” He inhaled quickly. “I mean it’s striking and.” He stopped his rambling and released the rest of his breath with a sigh. “I’m sorry,” he finally said as ingrained manners kicked in and told him to apologize.
He turned his head away and let his chin sink toward his shoulder in defeat. Body heat tightened his cheeks and reminded him that foolish thoughts were better left unexpressed.
Hadn’t Marisol told him that, too?
He caught a smile in his peripheral vision, right before the woman spoke again.
“It’s nice to see your eyes again.”
His head straightened up as he faced hers. “What?”
She nodded toward the book in his hand, resting forgotten in his lap. “These last few days you’ve been reading so frantically, turning pages as if looking for some answer, like Hell’s after you if you don’t find it. Before that, you kept your phone glued to your ear. What changed?”
“No one calls me anymore,” he blurted.
She raised a hand to stop him from correcting that statement to a lie. “Say no more. I get it. Not my business.” Then she winked. “But I do miss your smile.”
So he had enjoyed listening to Marisol talk about her day as he rode the bus?
“Every time you hung up, you smiled at me and nodded to let me go first when we exited to find our cars. I guess you never really saw me.
You were thinking of someone else, weren’t you?”
Wait, what? Marisol hadn’t made him smile? Ending the phone call had?
“I don’t.” Her eyes were bright and cheerful, and he found his mouth curling upward in approval. “I really don’t know if I’ve noticed anything lately. But thank you.”
“For what?”
He huffed out a breath of relief and quirked his grin sideways in acknowledgement of the wake-up call. “For reminding me that the world is still revolving, and Hell isn’t out to get me. Not just yet, anyway.”
She grinned and held out a hand. “Ruth.”
“Carlos,” he said as he clasped her palm.
No lightning, no thunder, no punishment and no angelic trumpets, just a brief handshake to remind him to open his eyes and mind. He released her hand and nodded. A good beginning to a fresh start.
The bus slowly made the final, ponderous turn into the park and ride lot and everyone shuffled to manage their personal loads for transport. With a puff of brakes and a sharp jolt, the ride was done and everyone stood.
He smiled, genuinely pleased to nod and let her go first. She winked and turned for the exit.
“Have a great evening, Carlos,” she said over her shoulder.
“You too, Ruth.”
He let loose a small chuckle of amusement and felt his heart lift in response. What would he write on this blank page? Nothing yet and not for a while, but he felt the urge to bless bleach pens and budding friendships as he stepped down to the asphalt and toward a new beginning.
Original work. Please respect author rights.
“A blank page,” she’d said. “This is a new leaf, for both of us.”
He inhaled as deeply as he could stretch the lungs in his chest then released the breath in a slow, heavy realization of the futility of arguing with her.
Marisol was such a bookworm. Once she’d phrased a situation in a manner her literary brain could understand, she wouldn’t part with the words or the decision.
They were through.
Trust her to end the happiest relationship he’d ever had with a pithy analogy.
His eyes wandered in an unfocused way.
Had he been happy?
Thinking of humor made him uneasy. His parents may have argued at times, but they also laughed together. Quite frequently, in fact. When was the last time he’d laughed?
And Marisol’s laugh, how did it go again? Had it been such a rare sound in their lives?
Only eight days had passed since he left her apartment with the bag she’d thrust in his arms, trusting he would go back to his place and start life over again. But he hadn’t. They’d been happy together. They were meant to be together.
Yet, he couldn’t remember hearing her laugh. And when was the last time he’d expressed merriment?
His eyes began tracing a random bit of chaos on the bus - color and discord locked in a pleasant embrace of movement that defied understanding on the canvas in front of him.
“Ahem.”
His gaze flicked up and met eyes so deeply brown they appeared black.
“Are you staring at my breasts?”
He felt his brows squish together in concern. Had he? A flick down and back again confirmed he had been staring at her blouse and the striking random pattern upon it.
“Is that some sort of new tie dye?” he stammered out. “I’m sorry, but it caught my eye and.”
“Oh. Oh!” Her pursed lips parted and let loose a merry arrangement of musical staccatos. “No! I’m wearing an unintentional mess. Spilled my coffee and cream, wrung it out, and tried one of those spot cleaning pens on it, only I picked up a bleach one by accident.”
His gaze flicked down and back one more time. “It truly is a beautiful mess then. I thought. Well, it seemed deliberate and pleasant, and it was balanced and yet random, and I apologize but the colors were.” He inhaled quickly. “I mean it’s striking and.” He stopped his rambling and released the rest of his breath with a sigh. “I’m sorry,” he finally said as ingrained manners kicked in and told him to apologize.
He turned his head away and let his chin sink toward his shoulder in defeat. Body heat tightened his cheeks and reminded him that foolish thoughts were better left unexpressed.
Hadn’t Marisol told him that, too?
He caught a smile in his peripheral vision, right before the woman spoke again.
“It’s nice to see your eyes again.”
His head straightened up as he faced hers. “What?”
She nodded toward the book in his hand, resting forgotten in his lap. “These last few days you’ve been reading so frantically, turning pages as if looking for some answer, like Hell’s after you if you don’t find it. Before that, you kept your phone glued to your ear. What changed?”
“No one calls me anymore,” he blurted.
She raised a hand to stop him from correcting that statement to a lie. “Say no more. I get it. Not my business.” Then she winked. “But I do miss your smile.”
So he had enjoyed listening to Marisol talk about her day as he rode the bus?
“Every time you hung up, you smiled at me and nodded to let me go first when we exited to find our cars. I guess you never really saw me.
You were thinking of someone else, weren’t you?”
Wait, what? Marisol hadn’t made him smile? Ending the phone call had?
“I don’t.” Her eyes were bright and cheerful, and he found his mouth curling upward in approval. “I really don’t know if I’ve noticed anything lately. But thank you.”
“For what?”
He huffed out a breath of relief and quirked his grin sideways in acknowledgement of the wake-up call. “For reminding me that the world is still revolving, and Hell isn’t out to get me. Not just yet, anyway.”
She grinned and held out a hand. “Ruth.”
“Carlos,” he said as he clasped her palm.
No lightning, no thunder, no punishment and no angelic trumpets, just a brief handshake to remind him to open his eyes and mind. He released her hand and nodded. A good beginning to a fresh start.
The bus slowly made the final, ponderous turn into the park and ride lot and everyone shuffled to manage their personal loads for transport. With a puff of brakes and a sharp jolt, the ride was done and everyone stood.
He smiled, genuinely pleased to nod and let her go first. She winked and turned for the exit.
“Have a great evening, Carlos,” she said over her shoulder.
“You too, Ruth.”
He let loose a small chuckle of amusement and felt his heart lift in response. What would he write on this blank page? Nothing yet and not for a while, but he felt the urge to bless bleach pens and budding friendships as he stepped down to the asphalt and toward a new beginning.