sugababyboo
mrs. charlie
Rated- PG 13
A Second Thought
The whistling of a black teakettle sounded throughout the quaint Boston apartment as steam escaped from its spout. Quickly, Christiana’s bare feet moved across the cold kitchen floor as she rolled up the sleeves of her opened terrycloth robe. Leaning over the stove, she turned the knob to off and pulled a small packet of green tea out of the cabinet. She reached out, grasped the plastic handle and poured the boiling hot liquid into the gray oversized coffee mug. Her fingers gripped the mug while she left the kitchen and entered her bedroom.
Inhaling the soothing scent of her tea, she pulled up her low- rise jeans before yanking the window shades open. Beams of sunlight illuminated the minimalist bedroom causing her to squint for a moment. As she adjusted the strap of her black lace bra she drank from her green tea. Her eyes traveled to the digital clock on her nightstand; it was 8 AM.
Unhurriedly, she turned on the television and strolled over to the nightstand to set her mug down. The morning news blared from the television’s speakers while she removed her robe and threw it in the hamper inside the closet. Reaching for her sleeveless v-neck black top, she contemplated her plans for the day.
For the first time in six months, she had a week off. Most people would sleep in late and spend their time doing very little; Christiana wasn’t like most people. Gabe, (her boss at the Gazette) practically forced her to take the week off. She remembered his exact words, “Chris, you’re one of my best and you’re a great kid. But if you don’t take the next week off, you’re gone.”
The top hugged her slim shape when she sat down on her comforter to put on her black boots. Intently, she watched the morning news.
“Yesterday in Jerusalem, a school bus filled with children exploded. Twenty-five children were killed. This is the third bombing that has occurred in the past month,” the anchorwoman said. “In other news, New York man Paul Lear is being tried today for the murders of his three children back in July of 2002. Lear allegedly shot his children to death. Last night, a Cambridge woman was found dead in her home. She was brutally beaten and stabbed to death. Her husband is the prime suspect.”
"We're Forgiven"
by The Calling
Well, I would like to think
The world hasn't seen
That all the best is still to come,
And I know life ain't easy
Expressionless, she sat on the full-size bed and drank her tea. Her blue mobile phone began to vibrate on the nightstand.
“Jaden,” she said without even looking at the caller I.D. as she pressed the talk button.
“Tell me again why you don’t use your house phone?” Jaden asked.
She half smiled and answered, “Because it’s cheaper. And I’m barely home half the time.”
“Well, since this is your week off and today is your 24th birthday, I was thinking..”
“Forget about it Jaden.”
“Come on, we’ve known each other for five years and you’ve never once gotten drunk off your ass.”
She gave a little laugh. “Well, you should have given up when I wouldn’t go into that bar with you on my 21st birthday. Give it up J, I’m not a drinker.”
“Fine. At least let me take you out for dinner. Or are you against eating food as well?”
“No, smart ass. Besides, you know that I’m not into that balloons and streamers felgercarb,” she said sounding a bit annoyed.
Jaden paused before replying. “Why are you always an uber ***** on your birthday? Every year you always do this.”
“Yeah and every year you just don’t get that I hate celebrating my birthday!”
“Sorry If I just want to show my best friend how much I care about her on her birthday!”
“If you really cared, you would know by now to not make my birthday such a big deal! It’s just another gorram day!” There was a pause. “Jaden?”
“You win,” he said calmly.
“What?”
“You heard me. You’re the most stubborn person I know and you always have to win every fight.”
“Yeah, but so do you.”
“Not this time. I get it now. We get into this same fight every year and I always back down because I get tired. But now I understand.”
“Enlighten me then.”
“You won’t let me in. There’s a reason why you hate your birthday so much and you’re too afraid to tell me what it is.”
She knew that he was right and that he was getting too close to finding out. “Nice theory, but you’re not even close,” she said before gnawing on her thumbnail.
“You’re lying and right now you’re probably gnawing on your thumbnail,” he said while smiling.
She pulled her thumb away from her mouth. “What are you stalking me now?” She pursed her full lips.
“Chris, you always gnaw at your thumbnail after lying. And right now you’re pursing your lips because you know I’m right,” his voice was smug as he continued talking. “We both know how much you hate being proven wrong.”
“I’ve got some things to do today and if I keep on talking to you I won’t get them done. So, bye.” She placed her thumb on the end button.
“Chris?” He said quickly.
“Yeah?”
“One of these days, you’re going to tell me. And happy birthday.” She listened to him breathe for a few seconds before hanging up.
Sighing, she got off the bed and went into the bathroom. She grabbed her moisturizer and mint flavored lip balm from the cabinet under the sink. Generously, she massaged the moisturizer all over her slightly tanned face and neck. Then, she dipped her index finger into the lip balm and polished her luscious lips with it. Her wavy, chocolate colored tresses framed her angular face. With her hands on the cool porcelain sink, she stared at her reflection. The two almond shaped mahogany pools that were her eyes gazed back at her.
Jaden always told her that, aside from her lips, her eyes were her best feature. He also said that there was this despair and vulnerability about them that intrigued him. Of course, any man in love with his best friend will say anything to please her. Although she would never openly admit it, she agreed with him.
Casually, she exited the bathroom, turned off the television and continued her way into the living room where she yanked her wool coat off the couch before leaving the apartment.
Two boys were playing catch in the corridor adjacent to the lobby when she passed through the front doors. The unbelievable freezing winter weather kept most people indoors; at least those who had a place to call their own.
Sliding her hands into her knitted gloves, Christiana headed towards the bus stop a few feet away from the entrance of her apartment building. The deep but loud voice of a homeless man caught her attention. He sat on the concrete sidewalk and leaned against the side of her building. His dirt covered hands held out a small paper cup begging those who passed him for some change.
While shoving her hands into her pockets she approached him. Half his face was masked by a black beard and soot. Surprisingly, his coat was in decent condition but his pants, hat and shoes wore holes. She smiled as she dropped seventy-five cents into the cup. Just as she began to withdraw her hand, he reached out and gripped her wrist. They met each other’s gaze for a few seconds; he had the most beautiful hazel eyes she had ever seen in her life.
“You,” he whispered as his eyes penetrated her.
In the distance, she could hear her bus pulling up.
“I-I have to go,” she said trying to keep her voice calm as she pulled away from him.
I pass them sleeping on the streets
Their bloodstained hands and dirty feet
And I can't ignore them
Any more than I already have
She gave him a quick glance before stepping into the bus. It pained her to see him stare at her hopelessly as the bus drove away.
Pensive, she recalled the argument she had with Jaden earlier. He sounded very determined to find out her real hatred towards her birthday. Even though she didn’t show it, this mere fact nearly scared her to death. Revealing to him her true reason would make her vulnerable and she couldn’t allow that to happen, ever.
The opening of the doors removed her from her train of thought. Grasping the seat in front of her, she hoisted herself up and walked out of the bus.
So we laugh, and we smile
And we play our games of sweet denial
But don't tell me we're forgiven
If we hold, all our breath
If we kneel right down and just repent
You can't tell me we're forgiven
A Second Thought
The whistling of a black teakettle sounded throughout the quaint Boston apartment as steam escaped from its spout. Quickly, Christiana’s bare feet moved across the cold kitchen floor as she rolled up the sleeves of her opened terrycloth robe. Leaning over the stove, she turned the knob to off and pulled a small packet of green tea out of the cabinet. She reached out, grasped the plastic handle and poured the boiling hot liquid into the gray oversized coffee mug. Her fingers gripped the mug while she left the kitchen and entered her bedroom.
Inhaling the soothing scent of her tea, she pulled up her low- rise jeans before yanking the window shades open. Beams of sunlight illuminated the minimalist bedroom causing her to squint for a moment. As she adjusted the strap of her black lace bra she drank from her green tea. Her eyes traveled to the digital clock on her nightstand; it was 8 AM.
Unhurriedly, she turned on the television and strolled over to the nightstand to set her mug down. The morning news blared from the television’s speakers while she removed her robe and threw it in the hamper inside the closet. Reaching for her sleeveless v-neck black top, she contemplated her plans for the day.
For the first time in six months, she had a week off. Most people would sleep in late and spend their time doing very little; Christiana wasn’t like most people. Gabe, (her boss at the Gazette) practically forced her to take the week off. She remembered his exact words, “Chris, you’re one of my best and you’re a great kid. But if you don’t take the next week off, you’re gone.”
The top hugged her slim shape when she sat down on her comforter to put on her black boots. Intently, she watched the morning news.
“Yesterday in Jerusalem, a school bus filled with children exploded. Twenty-five children were killed. This is the third bombing that has occurred in the past month,” the anchorwoman said. “In other news, New York man Paul Lear is being tried today for the murders of his three children back in July of 2002. Lear allegedly shot his children to death. Last night, a Cambridge woman was found dead in her home. She was brutally beaten and stabbed to death. Her husband is the prime suspect.”
"We're Forgiven"
by The Calling
Well, I would like to think
The world hasn't seen
That all the best is still to come,
And I know life ain't easy
Expressionless, she sat on the full-size bed and drank her tea. Her blue mobile phone began to vibrate on the nightstand.
“Jaden,” she said without even looking at the caller I.D. as she pressed the talk button.
“Tell me again why you don’t use your house phone?” Jaden asked.
She half smiled and answered, “Because it’s cheaper. And I’m barely home half the time.”
“Well, since this is your week off and today is your 24th birthday, I was thinking..”
“Forget about it Jaden.”
“Come on, we’ve known each other for five years and you’ve never once gotten drunk off your ass.”
She gave a little laugh. “Well, you should have given up when I wouldn’t go into that bar with you on my 21st birthday. Give it up J, I’m not a drinker.”
“Fine. At least let me take you out for dinner. Or are you against eating food as well?”
“No, smart ass. Besides, you know that I’m not into that balloons and streamers felgercarb,” she said sounding a bit annoyed.
Jaden paused before replying. “Why are you always an uber ***** on your birthday? Every year you always do this.”
“Yeah and every year you just don’t get that I hate celebrating my birthday!”
“Sorry If I just want to show my best friend how much I care about her on her birthday!”
“If you really cared, you would know by now to not make my birthday such a big deal! It’s just another gorram day!” There was a pause. “Jaden?”
“You win,” he said calmly.
“What?”
“You heard me. You’re the most stubborn person I know and you always have to win every fight.”
“Yeah, but so do you.”
“Not this time. I get it now. We get into this same fight every year and I always back down because I get tired. But now I understand.”
“Enlighten me then.”
“You won’t let me in. There’s a reason why you hate your birthday so much and you’re too afraid to tell me what it is.”
She knew that he was right and that he was getting too close to finding out. “Nice theory, but you’re not even close,” she said before gnawing on her thumbnail.
“You’re lying and right now you’re probably gnawing on your thumbnail,” he said while smiling.
She pulled her thumb away from her mouth. “What are you stalking me now?” She pursed her full lips.
“Chris, you always gnaw at your thumbnail after lying. And right now you’re pursing your lips because you know I’m right,” his voice was smug as he continued talking. “We both know how much you hate being proven wrong.”
“I’ve got some things to do today and if I keep on talking to you I won’t get them done. So, bye.” She placed her thumb on the end button.
“Chris?” He said quickly.
“Yeah?”
“One of these days, you’re going to tell me. And happy birthday.” She listened to him breathe for a few seconds before hanging up.
Sighing, she got off the bed and went into the bathroom. She grabbed her moisturizer and mint flavored lip balm from the cabinet under the sink. Generously, she massaged the moisturizer all over her slightly tanned face and neck. Then, she dipped her index finger into the lip balm and polished her luscious lips with it. Her wavy, chocolate colored tresses framed her angular face. With her hands on the cool porcelain sink, she stared at her reflection. The two almond shaped mahogany pools that were her eyes gazed back at her.
Jaden always told her that, aside from her lips, her eyes were her best feature. He also said that there was this despair and vulnerability about them that intrigued him. Of course, any man in love with his best friend will say anything to please her. Although she would never openly admit it, she agreed with him.
Casually, she exited the bathroom, turned off the television and continued her way into the living room where she yanked her wool coat off the couch before leaving the apartment.
Two boys were playing catch in the corridor adjacent to the lobby when she passed through the front doors. The unbelievable freezing winter weather kept most people indoors; at least those who had a place to call their own.
Sliding her hands into her knitted gloves, Christiana headed towards the bus stop a few feet away from the entrance of her apartment building. The deep but loud voice of a homeless man caught her attention. He sat on the concrete sidewalk and leaned against the side of her building. His dirt covered hands held out a small paper cup begging those who passed him for some change.
While shoving her hands into her pockets she approached him. Half his face was masked by a black beard and soot. Surprisingly, his coat was in decent condition but his pants, hat and shoes wore holes. She smiled as she dropped seventy-five cents into the cup. Just as she began to withdraw her hand, he reached out and gripped her wrist. They met each other’s gaze for a few seconds; he had the most beautiful hazel eyes she had ever seen in her life.
“You,” he whispered as his eyes penetrated her.
In the distance, she could hear her bus pulling up.
“I-I have to go,” she said trying to keep her voice calm as she pulled away from him.
I pass them sleeping on the streets
Their bloodstained hands and dirty feet
And I can't ignore them
Any more than I already have
She gave him a quick glance before stepping into the bus. It pained her to see him stare at her hopelessly as the bus drove away.
Pensive, she recalled the argument she had with Jaden earlier. He sounded very determined to find out her real hatred towards her birthday. Even though she didn’t show it, this mere fact nearly scared her to death. Revealing to him her true reason would make her vulnerable and she couldn’t allow that to happen, ever.
The opening of the doors removed her from her train of thought. Grasping the seat in front of her, she hoisted herself up and walked out of the bus.
So we laugh, and we smile
And we play our games of sweet denial
But don't tell me we're forgiven
If we hold, all our breath
If we kneel right down and just repent
You can't tell me we're forgiven
Sorry it took me so long to read it!