Stacey is a little girl who loves words more than anything. She loves reading them, sounding them out, and finding comfort in them when things are hard.
But when her teacher chooses her to compete in the local spelling bee, she isn’t as excited as she thought she’d be. What if she messes up? Or worse, if she can’t bring herself to speak up, like sometimes happens when facing bullies at school?
Stacey will learn that win or lose . . . her words are powerful, and sometimes perseverance is the most important word of all.
My thoughts:
Stacy’s Extraordinary Words is a children’s book written by Stacy Abrams who is a state politician, author, activist, and lawyer. This book was about Stacy’s love of words and how she grew to love words of all kinds, their meaning and spelling. She entered into a spelling bee at school but this only pushed her to learn new words. This was a fast paced book and I enjoyed the illustrations.
June’s life at home with her stepmother and stepsister is a dark one and a secret one. Not even her dad knows the truth, and she can’t find the words to tell anyone else. She’s trapped like a butterfly in a net. Then June meets Blister, a boy from a large, loving, chaotic family. In him, she finds a glimmer of hope that perhaps she can find a way to fly far, far away. Because she deserves her freedom. Doesn’t she?
Review:
Paper Butterflies is a very intense novel. One of the most intense stories I have read in a very long time. This story is about a biracial girl named June. June mother (who is black) dies by drowning when she is young. June’s dad (who is white) remarried a woman named Kathleen and she has a daughter of her own named Megan. Even since June was in grade school Kathleen and Megan both abused June in awful ways. The abuse June had to go through by Kathleen was mind blowing. Kathleen hated June one part because she was half black and her mother was black. In the book this is brought up a lot. Kathleen had her daughter Megan help her in the abuse of June.
June’s dad was no help at all. June wanted so badly to reach out and tell her dad what was going on behind his back but he always stood and took Kathleen’s side no matter.
June meets a boy who ends up being not only her best friend but someone she loves. He goes by the name Blister.
June only wanted her voice heard and to be understood. She wanted the world to know about the abuse she was going through each day. She eventually told Blister.
In the end this is a very exhausting, emotional, frustrating and upsetting book to read.
My final thoughts:
My feelings changed with each chapter as I read. I felt for June at times I felt I was going through what she was facing. I felt so sad for her but was rooting for her at the same time. I enjoyed Blister’s and June time together with their friendship and love was nice to see. It was set up to be a real friendship before they started to say I love you. I wanted the best for June and Blister. Every chapter they were together made me smile. I liked the writing and the realistic nature of the story. I had an emotional connection with all the characters which never really happens when I read books. This story took all my feelings and I have to say I really enjoyed it.
Trigger warning: Physical abuse, bullying, death, prison, death row
When her friend Sandy asks for help, Anne Wilson leaves her small, lonely life in Miami for the picturesque island of Saint Martin. But as soon as she arrives, Sandy is murdered, and her death exposes lies: an alias, a secret past, stolen money. Suspected of murder and trapped on the island, Anne is shocked when a cryptic message arrives:
Find the money. Take it and run.
She follows Sandy’s trail of obscure clues, desperate for proof of her innocence and must decide if she can trust the two men who offer help-the dark, mysterious Brit or the American with a wide grin and a pickup truck. When memories resurface-dark truths she’d rather leave buried and forgotten, her past becomes intertwined with her present.
Her only way forward is to face her own secrets.
Interview:
On writing:
Which was the hardest character to write?
Anne. Have you ever disliked someone the first time you met them, but then as you got to know them you realized they were just shy and perhaps quite sad? That’s how it felt to write Anne. I didn’t approve of her choices, but chapter after chapter she showed such strength, and I warmed to her.
What is your writing process like?
Like hiking through progressively larger hills. I can’t see very far ahead, and everytime I climb a hill, I’m surprised by what I find.
What advice would you give budding writers?
Three things: write, read, share. You hear the advice “write every day” because it’s so essential to success. Reading inspires your creativity. And finally, let other people read what you write. Join critique groups, ask friends and family to give you feedback. Constructive criticism will make you a better writer.
Your book is set in Saint Martin, an island in the Caribbean. Have you ever been there?
Yes. (sigh) Such a beautiful place. I want to go back.
Do you have another profession besides writing?
I’m a bookkeeper by day. It’s the opposite of creative writing.
How long have you been writing?
I’ve always journaled, but I began writing novels about nine years ago – which is about the time my first marriage fell apart. Huh, I never made that connection before. Whew. That’s a breakthrough of sorts, isn’t it?
What helps you overcome writer’s block?
There isn’t one remedy. I do laundry or go for walks and listen to loud, angry chick-rock. Sometimes I pull out bins of yarn to design a new knitting project, but then I usually just end up fondling my yarn until I solve the block and return to the computer screen. Yarn is my muse.
What is your next project?
Book 2: Accused. Anne’s story continues! It will be released in 2023.
What is a favorite compliment you have received on your writing?
The feedback has been overwhelmingly positive. But the one comment that stands out is when an Amazon reviewer said that Anne (my main character) was so REAL. That was amazing to hear.
How are you similar to or different from your lead character?
We are very different, but we do have a couple things in common. She works in accounting like I do, and we’ve both suffered significant loss – the kind of loss that you never really recover from. Writing her character was so interesting because she dealt with her loss so differently than I did.
What is something you had to cut from your book that you wish you could have kept?
A scene between Anne and Luke. It was such a sweet moment between them, but nothing really happened, and I had to cut it. But the banter between them was so much fun. And, of course, we all want more time with Luke…
On rituals:
Do you snack while writing? Favorite snack?
Tortilla chips. But never from the bag or I won’t stop. The crunching helps me stay calm during suspenseful scenes – like eating popcorn while you’re at the movies.
Where do you write?
Everywhere. At my desk, in my favorite armchair, in the car (when I’m not driving,) on a plane. I’ve written during warmups at my son’s soccer games, sitting in the parking lot waiting for jiu jitsu to finish, and on a sailboat. That wasn’t a good idea though. I’m not sure how my laptop didn’t fall into the Pacific ocean.
Do you write every day?
No. (slight chuckle.) Some days it just isn’t possible. But I try to write even if I know I’m going to delete all of it the next day.
Is there a specific ritualistic thing you do during your writing time?
I listen to music. Really loud music. It blocks out everything else so I can focus on the story. A few indie bands like Metric, but sometimes I plug in my earphones and play catchy mainstream pop. And I like it.
In today’s tech savvy world, most writers use a computer or laptop. Have you ever written parts of your book on paper?
In the first part of a flight, I scribble furiously in a notebook until that glorious “ding” sounds, and I can start typing.
If you’re a mom writer, how do you balance your time?
Define balance…The truth is I don’t have balance. I work too much. But I think “balance” is overrated. We threw out the idea of traditional gender roles in my house. My husband and I are a team. I work, and he does almost everything else. (Except matching socks. He cannot figure that out.)
Fun stuff:
Favorite travel spot?
Kansas City. Such a friendly place. It always inspires creativity. I love the Nelson-Atkins museum and City Market on the weekends. Also, there’s a place in Westport Plaza that makes the best Matcha ever. Don’t get me started on the barbeque…yum.
If you were stuck on a deserted island, which 3 books would you want with you?
Ulysses. I might be able to read it cover to cover once I’m stuck on a deserted island. One of the Harry Potters because I’d want a little magic. And I’d bring one of my husband’s books on boat building because then I could escape to get back to all the other books!
Any hobbies?
So many hobbies. Knitting mostly, but I enjoy loads of crafts, jewelry and macrame. I want to try pottery, but my yarn takes up too much space. I simply don’t have room in my life for clay. Yet.
What TV series are you currently binge watching?
A while ago, season 1 of Silent Witness popped up as a recommendation on my BritBox. It should have come with a disclaimer like “Don’t watch this unless you’re prepared to commit several months to it.” Sheeshers. I just finished Season 25. I don’t regret a thing. Well. Maybe I regret some of the popcorn.
What song is currently playing on a loop in your head?
I just watched Free Guy with my son, so that Mariah song. So. Freaking. Catchy. It’s in your head now too, isn’t it?
What is something that made you laugh recently?
I live in SoCal, so we don’t get a lot of weather. My son went out for a bike ride and came back after only three minutes and put on a second sweatshirt, a beanie, and gloves. Five minutes later he returned for knee pads and a chest plate because the “wind was bitter cold.” It was 56 degrees.
What is your go-to breakfast item?
A beet smoothie. I know. Gross, right? I hate beets, but they resolve my gallbladder issues. I roast golden beets and blend them with spinach and frozen berries to hide the taste.
What is the oldest item of clothing you own?
Such an embarrassing question! I have a favorite T-shirt that I keep because maybe someday I’ll be the same weight I was in college. The shirt is not even that cool. It’s faded green with a well worn cartoon frog. But it’s so soft and comfy.
Tell us about your longest friendship.
Marie. We met in college because our boyfriends were roommates, and we both instantly had a “you’re my person” moment. I live in California, and she lives on the East Coast, so we meet annually in random cities in the middle of the country to hang out. She’s still my person after all this time.
What is the strangest way you’ve become friends with someone?
LikeOne of my friendships started during the darkest period in my life. We were at a youth football practice that my ex-husband was coaching. I can’t even remember why, but I had to move my chair, and someone I barely knew carried it for me. That’s it. She carried my chair. It was a tiny thing, but the gesture meant the world to me. And we’ve been close friends ever since.
About Author:
MHR Geer was born in California but grew up in the Midwest. She attended the University of California, Santa Barbara to study Physics. After school, she moved to Ventura, CA and started a small bookkeeping business. She lives with her two sons and her unicorn husband (because he’s a magical creature).
A device that can save a life is also one that can end it
Kadence, a new type of implanted defibrillator, misfires in a patient visiting University Hospital for a routine medical procedure—causing the heart rhythm problem it’s meant to correct. Dr. Kate Downey, an experienced anesthesiologist, resuscitates the patient, but she grows concerned for a loved one who recently received the same device—her beloved Great-Aunt Irm.
When a second device misfires, Kate turns to Nikki Yarborough, her friend and Aunt Irm’s cardiologist. Though Nikki helps protect Kate’s aunt, she is prevented from alerting other patients by the corporate greed of her department chairman. As the inventor of the device and part owner of MDI, the company he formed to commercialize it, he claims that the device misfires are due to a soon-to-be-corrected software bug. Kate learns his claim is false.
The misfires continue as Christian O’Donnell, a friend and lawyer, comes to town to facilitate the sale of MDI. Kate and Nikki are drawn into a race to find the source of the malfunctions, but threats to Nikki and a mysterious murder complicate their progress. Are the seemingly random shocks misfires, or are they attacks?
A jaw-dropping twist causes her to rethink everything she once thought she knew, but Kate will stop at nothing to protect her aunt and the other patients whose life-saving devices could turn on them at any moment.
Excerpt:
“You aren’t gonna let me die this time, are ya, Doc?” Oh boy. So started my Wednesday, with about the worst line any anesthesiologist can hear from a patient in preoperative holding. “This time?” the nurse said. “Last time my heart decided to dance a little jig instead of pumpin’ my blood.” Sitting close beside Mr. Abrams, his wife squeezed her eyes closed. “Abe, tell Dr. Downey the whole story.” “I read about it in your chart last night,” I said. “Last time they tried to fix your hernia, your heart needed a jump start.” To the nurse I added, “V fib,” a chaotic heart rhythm that usually requires electrical shock to convert back to a normal rhythm. “It happened when they were putting you to sleep and they canceled the case.” Instead of a hernia operation, Mr. Abrams ended up with a very different procedure that day—placement of an automated internal cardioverter defibrillator, or AICD. A device implanted in his chest to detect and treat the problem should it recur. “Your AICD hasn’t fired, right?” The device had been checked by cardiology the day before. “Right. Rosie watches it like a hawk huntin’ a rodent.” He nodded to his wife, who slipped her phone under the book in her lap. “I completely understand,” I said to her, nodding at the hidden phone. “My aunt has the same AICD, and I can’t stop checking the app either.” Maybe a downside of the novel AICD, the Kadence communicated through the patient’s phone to the cloud, where I could view status reports on my beloved Aunt Irm’s heart. “I don’t expect any problems this time, but we’re ready if your heart decides on another jig.” “Dr. Downey, I need to ask a favor.” Mrs. Abrams didn’t look at me, or at anyone. She gripped her paperback as if it would fly open. “Call me Kate.” “Come on, Rosie, let the doc do her job,” Mr. Abrams said. She ignored him. “Dr. Yarborough is his cardiologist. She said if he could keep his phone during the operation, she would be able to watch his AICD.” I generally like to honor requests. This one required a caveat. “I’ll make a deal with you. We’ll keep the phone close for Dr. Yarborough as long as you promise not to watch the app.” Her sparse gray eyebrows drew together. “During surgery, there’s electrical noise that can confuse the AICD. I don’t know what it might report and I don’t want you frightened.” Sometimes we turn off AICDs during surgery, but this operation was far enough away from the device implanted near his left shoulder that the noise shouldn’t cause a problem. What she might see on the app, though, I couldn’t predict. She nodded uncertainly. Eric, the anesthesia resident assigned to work with me on the case, arrived with a small syringe of a sedative. “What do you think about some happy juice?” “I think my wife needs it more than me,” Mr. Abrams said. Her lipstick appeared to redden as her face paled. “Unfortunately, it goes in the IV,” Eric said with a kind smile for her. “We’ll take good care of him.” “You’ll watch his blood sugar,” she said. “Yes, ma’am.” Eric unlocked the bed. “And be careful with his AICD.” “We will.” He unhooked the IV bag from the ceiling-mounted pole and attached it to one on the stretcher. Tears dampened her eyes as Mrs. Abrams stood and leaned down to kiss her husband’s cheek. “I’m gonna be fine, Rosie. Don’t you worry. I’ll be huntin’ by the weekend, and we can try out that new squirrel recipe before our anniversary.” “We are not serving squirrel stew for our fiftieth anniversary,” she said. Eric and I exchanged a smile. “Oh now, you wait and see.” Mr. Abrams patted his wife’s hand. “What’s squirrel taste like?” Eric pushed the bed from the wall. “Tastes like chicken.” Mr. Abrams laughed loudly. “No, just kiddin’ with ya . . .” As they turned the corner, the voices faded. I stayed behind to reassure Mrs. Abrams. “I can’t lose him.” Eyes squeezed shut, a sob escaped. I wrapped an arm around her ample shoulders and waited. I knew that feeling; had lived that feeling; had lost. “I’m sorry.” She dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “No need to apologize. Last time scared you. Tell you what, once he’s asleep, I’ll give you a call and let you know it went fine.” That calmed her. We walked together to the main doors, where I directed her to the waiting room. I turned the opposite direction to not let her husband of fifty years die during a hernia operation. No pressure there. In the OR, we helped Mr. Abrams move to the operating table. After applying monitors and going through our safety checks, Eric held the clear plastic mask over his face and said, “Pick out a good dream.” “Oh, I got one.” He winked at me. “I’ll try to behave this time, Doc.” “I’d appreciate that.” I maintained eye contact and held his hand as I injected the drugs to put him off to sleep. Despite having induced anesthesia thousands of times, I always experience a tense few moments between the time the patient stops breathing and when the breathing tube is confirmed in the windpipe. During those couple of minutes, if we couldn’t breathe for him, there’s a real, if remote, chance the patient could die. Not a failure to save, but, in essence, a kill. Anesthesia is unique in that. We take people who are breathing fine, mess it up, then fix it, so the surgeon can correct the real problem. When Mr. Abrams’ induction proceeded without incident, I felt an extra sense of relief and was happy to share that with his wife. The operation, too, went well, and an hour later, he awoke from anesthesia, gave a sleepy smile, and said, “How’d it go, Doc?” “Fine. No more hernia. Are you in any pain?” He shook his head. “Nope, you done good.”
This is what comes next if you want to include more As Eric gave his transfer-of-care report to the recovery nurse, I helped re-connect the monitors. Mr. Abrams looked great. Whether he’d be hunting squirrel in a few days, I couldn’t say. I headed toward the pre-op area to see our next patient. “Dr. Downey!” I spun back to see Mr. Abrams’ head loll to the side, his eyes closed, his hands on his chest. In two steps I was back at his side. “Mr. Abrams?” I placed two fingers to his neck where his pulse should be while the ECG monitor above showed ventricular fibrillation—a randomly bumpy line—and his pulse oximeter, the sticker on his finger that recorded pulse and oxygen, became a flat line. Cardiac arrest. What the hell? I forced the image of his wife saying, “I can’t lose him,” from my mind as I lowered the head of the bed and started chest compressions. “Eric, manage the airway.” He placed a mask over Mr. Abrams’ nose and mouth and started squeezing the breathing bag. “Why isn’t his AICD firing?” Good question. The overhead monitor flashed and shrieked an alarm. The fire-engine red crash cart arrived and a nurse snapped off its plastic lock. As she tore open the foil pack of defibrillation pads from the top of the crash cart, the charge nurse assembled medications. A smoothly running team, each member with his or her own tasks. The overhead alert began, “Anesthesia and Charge Nurse stat to the PACU.” I tuned it out as a crowd in scrubs assembled around us. The anesthesiologist in charge of the recovery room said, “How can I help?” “Call Nikki Yarborough in cardiology.” As I continued chest compressions, the nurse reached around my arms to place the large defibrillator pads on Mr. Abrams’ chest. I noticed the small scar where his AICD was implanted and silently ordered the damn thing to fire. The charging defibrillator whined with an increasing and eventually teeth-itching pitch. Seconds before I yelled, “Clear!” the ECG monitor traced a “square wave”—three sides of a bottomless square, up-across-down. I held my breath, though it was only seconds. Normal sinus rhythm followed. His AICD had finally fired, kick-starting his heart back to normal electrical activity. I stopped chest compressions and placed my fingers on his neck. Strong pulse. “Mr. Abrams?” I grasped his hand and leaned forward. His head turned toward me. “How do you feel?” He rubbed his sternum with his other hand. “Chest hurts.” “Like a heart attack, or like someone pounded on it?” “Pounded.” He opened one eye. “Sorry about that.” “No. Thank you.” The corners of his mouth turned up weakly. “You did good.” “I’ll have cardiology come check out your AICD and figure out why it took so long to fire.” He nodded. “Can you tell my wife I’m okay?” It struck me his first thought was for his wife, and that I’d told her everything would be fine. Crap. It also struck me she might have peeked at his app. The recovery room attending waited for me as I stepped away. “Dr. Yarborough’s in a procedure but will come by as soon as she’s done.” I thanked him and hurried to the waiting room to check on Mrs. Abrams. She must have followed directions, because I found her in the back corner of the crowded space, the book unopened in her lap. At my approach, she looked up. “He’s fine.” Always the best lead, but she didn’t smile. I sat beside her and lowered my voice in an attempt at privacy. “After the surgery, he had a rhythm problem like before.” She gasped and I placed a hand on her arm. “We did CPR until his Kadence fired and everything is fine now. He’s awake and he asked me to tell you that.” Tears filled her eyes. Though I wasn’t supposed to invite her to the recovery room until the nurse was ready, Mrs. Abrams needed to see for herself. I knew what that felt like. “Would you like to see him?” She nodded and walked with me in silence. The very understanding nurse lowered one of the stretcher’s side rails, and Mr. Abrams extended an arm to embrace his wife. “Now, Rosie, I told you I’d be fine.” He looked past her shoulder and winked at me, but his eyes shone as well. Such a beautiful couple. I returned to work before we were all bleary eyed.
About the author:
Tammy Euliano writes medical thrillers. She’s inspired by her day job as a physician, researcher and medical educator. She is a tenured professor at the University of Florida, where she’s been honored with numerous teaching awards, nearly 100,000 views of her YouTube teaching videos, and was featured in a calendar of women inventors (copies available wherever you buy your out-of-date calendars).
When she’s not writing or at the hospital, she enjoys traveling with her family, playing sports, cheering on the Gators, and entertaining her two wonderful dogs.
Hey 👋🏽 everyone I posted a video sharing what I’m currently reading for next few days or until I’m done with the books. I have 5 different books I’m currently working on, so in this video I talk about those books. I think every week to every other week I’ll be posting a currently reading video at the end of the week as an update on what I’m reading. Have a great week, happy reading!
Awake begins in the shame and pain of a marital desertion. Lori is reluctant to let Brandon into her life, afraid to be hurt again. Once she opens that door wider, Lori experiences an explosive awakening. With Brandon’s help, Lori rediscovers her sexual power and, through that, confidence and hope. Yet three-thousand miles separate suburban Maryland and Seattle. Their intense but infrequent visits are disorienting, particularly as Lori feels pressured towards a more suitable post-divorce life. When Lori makes an impulsive decision to take her kids on a trip to Seattle, she sparks a chain of conflicts that might end their still-precarious romance.
Synopsis for Second Chances Book 2:
Second Chances continues the story of Lori and Brandon’s bicoastal romance. Their sexy, fun weekends, crisscrossing the country to see each other, are bookended by the challenges back home. For Lori, that’s a new home, job search, divorce proceedings, and conflicts with her teenage kids. With newfound confidence, helped by Brandon’s skills in the bedroom and as handyman, cop, and father, Lori revels in a budding independence. Still, there’s no avoiding that their time together is scheduled around the competition (exes, kids, and bosses). Brandon’s aversion to risk, his loyalty to his daughter, and Lori’s increasingly complicated life in Maryland all loom as potential, insurmountable obstacles, and Lori fears that shuttling between disparate worlds will break her. After a particularly empowering sexual encounter, Lori finds the courage to ask for what she wants-a second chance to build a brave new life with Brandon-but taking that risk could mean losing everything.
Except for Awake Book 1:
Lori woke, uncertain of the time, in exactly the same position. Brandon was curled around her from behind, still holding her tight. She listened to his steady breath and could feel it blow softly across her shoulder. Tears welled again. When had she last spent the whole night, any part of the night, tucked into someone’s arms? Lori reluctantly extracted herself, though, because she really needed to pee. She climbed awkwardly over Brandon to get to the open side of the bed. Thankfully, a couple of candles remained lit, and she made her way through the unfamiliar room and into the hallway. She could see through to the living room dimly lit by the glow of street lights, and she noticed Brandon’s t-shirt on the floor. She went and pulled it on. Passing over her nose, she breathed deeply to smell his smell, just like she used to do with her kids’ clothing. A stolen snuffle as she gathered up miniature shirts and jeans and sundresses, hoping in those whiffs of sweat, spilled food, and grass stains, that she might catch hold of their fleeting joys. Brandon’s scent was different, still familiar, the aroma of deep compatibility. She wondered if smell could reveal such a thing? Her nose detected a trace of Brandon’s cologne, woodsy, leathery, sensual, something almost animal- like that she remembered well. It felt intoxicating that he was so near. On route back to the bedroom, Lori took a quick glance at her phone to make sure there were no texts from the kids. Jeanette was inviting her to see a movie. Lori would have to make up an excuse. It was three in the morning, she noted, six in the morning east coast time. That seemed to trigger her appetite, and Lori poked through Brandon’s refrigerator. She spotted a container of Greek yogurt. After several wrong picks, she found the drawer with the silverware, leaned against the countertop, removed the cover, and, half-aware, started to eat. It seemed a sudden recognition, her bare feet starting to feel the cold of the floor, she was three thousand miles away from her kids, just slept in a man’s bed, not her husband, a strange bed, but one that felt, well, kind of like home. Brandon appeared then as a shadow at the kitchen entrance. He turned on the light. When she flinched, he quickly adjusted the dimmer. He was as naked as in bed, yet she felt like she was seeing all of him for the first time. When they were young, Brandon was tall and very thin. Clearly, he worked out—just the right amount. Not over the top muscles like some boys gave themselves, looking awkward and bulky, arms so thick they no longer rested comfortably against their bodies. She appraised Brandon, trying not to look obvious, the sculpted shoulders and biceps; slim and strong-muscled legs, relaxed at the moment; a well-defined stomach, no six-pack. Still, there were indents in all the right places, highlighting musculature and triangulating his sweet spot, which, with a quick peek, revealed a three-quarters-erect penis. “What you lookin’ at?” Brandon asked, smirking. “I’ll assume that’s a rhetorical question.” He laughed softly, such a warm, cozy sound in the dark, early morning. “Have you been up long?” He walked over, tipped up her face, and kissed her on the nose. “No, just a few minutes. I was suddenly wide awake and hungry.” “Jet lag can be tough, and we forgot to eat.” Glancing at the yogurt in her hand, he said, “you probably need something more than that.” “I just wanted a little something. This is perfect. It’s my favorite brand.” Lori took another bite. “Want some?” “Sure.” She scooped up a spoonful and fed it to him. “You look good in my shirt, by the way, very sexy.” Brandon’s mouth was half full, so the words sounded slightly garbled and sweeter. Lori gave a twirl to acknowledge his compliment, then made a slight curtsy, pulling out the bottom hem. With her bowed head, she could see that her legs were still shapely, bare skin extending down from where the bottom of the shirt hit high on her thighs. She was frowning, though, when she looked back up. “Peter hated when I wore his clothes.” “Why?” “God knows. I told him I did it to look sexy. He said he didn’t like other people touching his stuff.” “Wow. Okay.” Brandon leaned back against the countertop so that they were side by side. “Were you thinking about him right now? About home?” “Actually, I was thinking about how strange it feels to be so comfortable here, with you, in your bed.” “Why strange?” “It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other or even talked. Our “real” lives, our grown-up lives, happened apart. I thought you’d feel like someone I don’t know.“ She glanced sideways, catching his eye. “You don’t.” “That’s the thing about us,” Brandon said as he put an arm around her. “We knew each other before we started making up shit, before we did all the stuff that was expected of us.” He touched her cheek and turned her face back to him. “I bet I know the real Lori, the one maybe no one else sees.” “That’s interesting,” she said, shifting from his gaze, “because I’m not sure I know who Lori is anymore.” “You knew back then.” “Did I?” She looked at him again fiercely. “I can’t remember it at all.” “You were so smart, Lori. You were gonna save the world.” “Wow. Should that make me laugh or cry?” Lori turned away. “It’s funny; I always felt most alive when you and I were fighting some cause, being big fat pains in the world’s ass. In the end, though, you scared me.” “What? How?” He backed off the counter so he could regard her directly. “You were uncompromising,” she said, “and restless. I was afraid where you would take me.” Brandon gazed at her, not understanding. “I guess I wanted my fights to be manageable, family- friendly affairs.” Lori smiled, even as she shook her head. She’d never quite put those old feelings into words before. “Instead, I’ve managed myself into, what? Boredom? Irrelevance? I don’t want to sound melodramatic. I just don’t feel like there’s much left that’s me anymore.” “You’re an attorney. You went to one of the best law schools in the country.” “Yeah. My point exactly. I can hardly call myself a professional these days.” “Stop that. Education doesn’t just fade away, not unless you let it. You’re a mother too. That’s the most important job, even if our hypocritical society only pays it lip service.” Brandon lifted her chin, forced her to look at him. “You’re right. Being a mom has been my greatest happiness,” Lori paused, “and my undoing.” She looked down again, and went back to a silent place. After a few moments, she spoke to him with puzzlement. “I still can’t believe you have a kid. You were so adamant you didn’t want that.” “I surprised myself,” Brandon said, leaning back again against the counter. “I think the reason I said those things was because I was afraid. My parents weren’t great role models. I didn’t want to repeat their mistakes.” “Our kids will say that about us one day; you know that, right?” Brandon laughed. “It’s true.” He paused as if to elicit a memory. “One day, I’m sure it was more gradual than that; I only remember waking to a sudden, overwhelming need to have a child. It felt like the most important thing, more important than having a wife, though one kind of went with the other.” “Is that why you married Jocelyn?” “It was a big part of it. She and I were on and off again for so many years. We either had to break up for good or get married. Never the best circumstances to say, ‘I do.’ Of course, you were already taken.” “Were you ever happy as a couple?” Brandon gave a tired sigh. “Yeah. Maybe. Sometimes. Let’s save that conversation for daylight. Do you think you can sleep a little more?” “I think so.” “I’ll take you out for coffee in the morning. Have you heard we have a very intense relationship with our coffee in Seattle?” “I’ve heard something about that.” The brief banter made Lori feel light on her feet and sleepy. She followed him back to the bedroom. Brandon lifted the covers, climbed in after her, tucked her shoulders inside his own, her head under his chin. Lori was sure she must have tossed and turned, as she often did. Brandon was still holding her just as faithfully when they woke.
About Author:
Author Bio:
Lisa Battalia is an attorney in the field of gender equity and a writer. She is the mother of two newly launched young adults; a lifelong east-coaster who recently launched her own new life on Whidbey Island, WA.
