It’s that time again! Another romantical Romantic Monday. As usual, click here to read our Ring Leader’s beautiful poetry; then scroll to the bottom of Edward’s post for links to other Romantic Monday posts. Here’s to love of all varieties!
She checks her innocence at the door, room #324 to be exact, leaves her conscience by the trash can/ash tray with the butts shoved deep into the sand on top. The room smells of cleaner, they’ve been there recently, cleaning up someone else’s mess, tidying things for this man and this woman and God knows what. Fresh sheets, not unused, sex and anger and bodies separated by the night have laid here, what next? Her wool coat shimmies down her shoulders, folds at her elbows and she throws it on the bed, perfect, not perfect, there’s dog hair on the collar. He’s in the bathroom, the light spills out in a single sheet from beneath the door, “I’ll be out in a minute” is muffled by a buzzing sound. “Okay” she says, trying to sound relaxed, she’s not, she’s thinking of the bar, the wine, the music that beat her insides while he asked about her job and she twisted the ring on her left finger. He didn’t notice, he only noticed her eyes, her lips, so he said. He just wanted to talk, so he said. She stares at the sheets for a while, counting the pink diamond shapes while she waits. She could leave, her legs tremble, but she doesn’t. He steps out, a towel in his hand, wiping his chin, hadn’t he worn a beard before? He looks so different now, what am I doing? The lights are dim, still, but an hour ago things looked much brighter. Could I identify this guy in a lineup? “Come here” he says. She hesitates, she twists a corner of the comforter between two nervous fingers, she sits and grabs a pillow and pulls it into her lap. He laughs and pulls it away, to the edge of the bed, it falls to the floor but he doesn’t notice. She does. “What now?” she asks, she really wants to know. “Clothes,” he says, already pulling his off. She does too, but stops after shirt and pants. “I’m nervous,” she admits. “Why?” he asks. He is foreign, his breath smells of whiskey and garlic, there’s a mole on his left cheek she hadn’t noticed before. In the light his shirt is wrinkled, on the floor. He lives alone. “Why?” she repeats. “Kiss me,” he responds. His mouth is on hers before she can decide and he tastes like a cliff-hanger. She tries to talk, her mouth flailing while his presses on and there’s a gap and she bites him but doesn’t mean to, but he’s angry now, she did it on purpose, she must have, but she’s pleading. “No,” she says. “No,” she says again. It’s empty, throwing a rock into an abandoned cave, an echo heard by no one. Really? What will they think now? Her children. “Don’t take it away,” she says. He doesn’t know what she’s talking about. He doesn’t ask. What does he care?
A sit-down to write a Romantic Monday post turned into something quite the opposite….but I decided to go with it anyway.
BUT – go here for a post by the founder of Romantic Monday, and of course links to other Romantic Monday posts.
Here’s a picture of a happy family lounging on the grass! This is not my family. Where’s the beer?
After a weekend of nothing but heartbreaking news flooding our networks, our Twitter accounts, our Facebook, our everything….this Romantic Monday I’m posting about those nearest and dearest to me. Because let’s face it – we are damn lucky to be surrounded by those we love. Just another horrid reminder of how precious life is.
As I drifted in and out of sleep this morning, a choir of children sang Amazing Grace on some early morning news show while the faces of every child who lost their lives on Friday flashed across the screen. Blegh.
Oh, my mother and I sent sympathy cards to the elementary school yesterday. It may be a minuscule offering, but it’s something. So if you’d like to do the same, here is all of the information you’ll need:
Sandy Hook Elementary School
12 Dickenson Drive
Sandy Hook, CT 06482
They suggest sympathy cards, postcards, or letters of support. I could barely find words to scribble inside my tiny card. I only let whoever would be reading it that there are thousands standing behind their community.
And now, onto those people who yet another tragedy reminded me I am so lucky to have in my life.
1.) My Joseph/Charlie
This man treats me like a princess. There isn’t too much I can say, since I’ve already dedicated an entire Romantic Monday post to him. He is my rock. He would do anything for me. And I’ve never, ever doubted that. And now we get to share a home for the rest of our lives. He has so much faith in me and he has given me wings. I love this man. I am so lucky to have someone who thinks I am capable of anything. (Except making pancakes. I really suck at that for some reason.)
2.) My mother, Kelly
Oh, you know, just the woman who gave me life. The woman who raised me right. The woman who calmed me down during a series of panic attacks during the darkest time of my life. The one who scratched my head until I fell asleep at night. Who would kick someone’s ass to protect me. (Not joking here people.) Who likes all of the same things as me and is SO easy to Christmas shop for. Who is so much like me, we sometimes butt heads but we get over it. My mommy. I’m lucky to have been raised by such an amazing woman.
3.) The most bad-ass Italian around, my father, Nick
He used to hold me down and tickle me to death, even though I hated it. (But really, who enjoys that?) To me he is strong, he is invincible, the smell of cold and Polo Cologne is strictly a “dad” scent, he falls asleep on the couch with his hands folded in prayer position, he always has his hair slicked back and always wears high white socks in the summer time, leaving that tan line I make fun of. If you accidentally “ding” a glass, he’ll go into boxing stance. And an unspoken rule: if he looks at me, I have to look away and back again, only for him to turn away. This could go on for minutes at a time until I giggle and beg him to knock it off. I am lucky to have a father who was always more like a best friend.
4.) Nikki V.
My Wino Soul-mate. She knows what I’m thinking. I know what she’s thinking. Sometimes we’ll say those things at the same time, in the same way, the same mannerisms, the same laugh when we both realize how silly we sound. If I think something is awesome I know she’ll feel exactly the same. This post sums up our love for each other. I am so lucky to have this girl, who wants to know how I’m doing every day because she really cares, and she knows I feel the same. If she needed me at 3AM, I’d be driving to her place in my pajamas. She is my family.
5. Phylis & Joseph, the future in-laws (hopefully very soon, if we ever get things going on this damn wedding planning)
The Floridians!
Phylis, the woman who hand-makes everything and makes the best Thanksgiving stuffing and Christmas cookies ever, who, when Joe or I answer the phone, greets us with a huge, “IT’S ME!!!!!”. She is truly a hilarious, loving, straight-from-the-heart character. And I am so grateful to call her family. The silly bickering between her and Joseph is so reminiscent of my Joe and I, I always say he is an image of his father. I like to think I’ve found a spot in my future father-in-law’s heart as well. I can only thank the both of them: Phylis for raising a son who knows how to respect women, and Joseph, for teaching his son how to be a man. I love you both.
6.) Sarah, Whomz, Bubby
This woman is the original founder of my heart. The one who knows some of my darkest secrets. The one who no matter the distance, no matter the amount of time that has passed, we’d be there for one another in seconds. Late night, aimless driving, our first parties, the worst times, the best times; we’ve broken each other’s hearts and just as quickly mended them. Our relationship is filled with ups and downs and scars and that’s what makes us so special, because through it all, we love each other just the same. And while I may not see her as much anymore, it’s all of these tests, the trials followed by amazing memories, that prove we were meant to be somehow connected. Forever. And I am so lucky to have her, no matter what the circumstances. (And on a side note, this little lady gave birth almost a year ago to the most precious, handsome little man in the world. Also named Joseph!)
7. Michele, bee-dee-bong (don’t ask).
Who else shares my love for High School Musical? Yeah, that’s right….no one. Whatever! Thank you for always making me laugh, always supporting me, listening to me, talking in strange nasally voices with me, being so very happy for me, and being one of those I can always rely on when it comes to grownup things. You work your behind off, and you still find time to share mimosas and stories with me and bring me wonderful goodies. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Another one I am so lucky to have in my life. ❤
There are several more people who I am so grateful to have, whether their roles in my life be large or small. It all counts. It all matters to me. I love you all.
And I am so, so very lucky. Counting my blessings.
My days and weeks are all discombobulated. (Wow, I actually spelled that right on the first try!) I’ve missed far too many Romantic Mondays, so it’s time to rejoin the loop! But in my defense, it’s because I’ve been totally and hopelessly in love with our new home.
Nicole Marie
wordsandotherthings.wordpress.com 