Sunday, July 26, 2009

An Affair


So, in the first assignment in Round 1 of the Creative Writing Championships I placed 4th in my group! Hooray. Cheer. Jeer. Whatever. There was still one more assignment for Round 1, and here is my story.

My genre was Drama, the place was an ad agency, and my object was a satellite dish. I'm really happy with this one. Here it is:

An Affair

“Johnny is at soccer, and Jessica has ballet ‘til 9.” I tried to avoid the passing strangers as I walked down 5th Avenue. “The satellite dish is still out, but they said it should be fixed by tonight.” My heels clacked against the pavement, and my abnormally heavy handbag dug into my ribs.

“Good.” John’s voice was cold and unfeeling, just like our marriage. “I have a meeting.” He hung up.

“I love you…” Even if he wasn’t on the other end of the phone, and I knew he wouldn’t have said it back… I still felt the need to say it. A big shot like John Sparse never told his homely wife anything resembling adoration.

No, John Sparse played golf and socialized with his high clientele at Macron and Sparse, the most successful ad agency in New York. Ever since John’s name was plastered next to Max Macron’s he became a different person.

I remembered when John and I were so happy renting a one-room apartment in the Bronx. We shared a single mattress, and held each other to keep warm. We were so in love. He would kiss me and whisper; “One day you’ll be wearing so much fur you’ll be sweating like its the 4th of July in January.”

He was right. I owned the fur, the jewels, the cars, and the cloths. In return, I gave him two beautiful children. Sure, my thighs were like tree trunks, my stomach wasn’t as tight as it used to be, and the wrinkles on my face were there, but I was losing my John.

When the late night meetings started that’s when I suspected everything. He came home at three in the morning. I asked him where he was, and he would tell me it was none of my business. He would coo me with a tennis bracelet or a trip to my favorite spa.

I turned the corner of the New York street, and approached the entrance to his building. The words Macron and Sparce gleamed in the sun; laughing at me. Mocking me for all the money I had, and all the love I had lost. I was going to find out who was ripping my family apart. I was going to choke the life out of the little slut that kept my husband away from his children.

I called Alice, my long time friend and John’s long time secretary. I had paid her $500 to help me, and to keep her mouth shut. I heard her voice on the end of the line, “Hello dear.”

“Alice, I’m here.” I looked around to see if anyone would recognize me. I tried to look poor. People only knew me as the rich wife of John Sparse.

“Linda, are you sure you want to go through with…”

“Yes. Now let me in Alice.” I looked at my watch. It was 7:15, and most of the people that would recognize me were probably gone for the day. I stuck my hand into my purse. My hand gently rested on my .22 magnum. No one would ruin my perfect life. No one.

Alice let me in, and escorted past security to the elevators that lead to the top floor. As I walked through the agency I glanced at the empty desks throughout the building. I wondered which one held the little minx that was fucking my husband into overtime.

I could see her long blonde hair, her skirt reasonably lengthened to show enough leg, and the blouse that barely fit over her perfect breasts. Yes, I’m sure that how she was.

Alice unlocked John’s office, and I walked inside. His new office smelled of oak. Ergonomic chairs surrounded his mahogany desk. In place of a wall was one giant window, showing the beautiful New York skyline. I slowly walked cross the wooden floor. I walked past his cozy couch, his portable golf set, and his personal bathroom.

John loved his new office.

Then, I found my hiding place. A closet across from his desk was the perfect concealment. I opened the sliding doors. “John is in a meeting.” I turned to Alice. The bastard was telling the truth. “I have to go Mrs. Sparse. He’ll wonder why I’m here so late.” She pulled the door towards her, “Good luck…” and closed the door.

I waited forever. I was beginning to lose hope…until he walked through the door. “Sam, you really know how to make me feel young again.” Sam, the whore’s name was Sam. His smile reminded me of the happiness we once had. I hadn’t seen him smile like that in years. John extended his hand into the doorway, “Come here you.” A hand emerged from the doorway, and John pulled it closer.

My heart dropped. All of the air in my lungs evaporated. John embraced his lover, and gave a kiss unlike any I had ever experienced from him. The kiss was filled with love and life. The two enwrapped into each other. I pictured this in my mind, but one important factor occurring in front of me never entered my mind. The kiss was long, soft, and masculine. Sam was not a woman. Sam…was a man.

On his new desk, in his new office, he made love to his new lover. I was paralyzed. I couldn’t move, only watch. Then I realized…my whole life was a lie. My children, my marriage, my love…was a lie. I was a cover, a camouflage for John’s insecurities. Rage boiled up from my stomach. I reached for the gun in my purse, and slid open the closet doors.

“Linda!” John’s face was as much in shock as I was. I held the gun straight towards him. My arm shaking with anger, and tears streaming down my face. This was it. I was here to kill the woman that ruined my life. So, I turned the gun, placed the barrel in my mouth…

And sprayed my brains all over his brand new office.

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