To be Needed.

A friend of mine challenged me to write something in 15 minutes. This is what I came up with.

It was years ago. She should leave the past in the past and let it all go. He wasn’t worth it, they all said. And she knew it too. She knew that all he did was use her. That when he didn’t need her, they hardly ever spoke. But when another girl would make another mistake, she was the first one he called. And then just like that, he was gone. He had found her, the one who supposedly would make all his dreams come true. The one that she had thought she had always been. And because he so deeply believed that the supposedly perfect girl was the one he had been searching for all his life, he didn’t need her anymore. This one really did seem perfect.
She watched the wedding from the altar. The supposedly perfect girl had chosen her as a bridesmaid. For the supposedly perfect girl was kind enough to include her in the ceremony that would guarantee her never being able to be with the love of her life. It was a beautiful ceremony indeed. And it was with that, that he was lost.
And yet, she could not let him go. She kept hoping (because hope tends to be all that there is left when all else seems to be lost) that the supposedly perfect girl would make some sort of mistake that would bring him back to her. For while she knew that he would never be hers, that he would never love her the way she wanted him to, no, needed him to, all she had ever really wanted was to be needed by him. All she had wanted was a phone call in the long, increasingly lonely nights, that showed he at least cared. But such hoping is lost on men like him. This she knew. For the call never came. And so, though so much time had passed, and though all friends and all better judgment told her how much better it would be to just let him go, still she hoped. Because for her, being needed by him was better than being loved by anyone else.

Mommies.

I was going to make this blog all about writing. But I'm such a big fan of post secret I had to put this on here. I think everyone feels this way sometimes which is why post secret is so cool.
I promise I'll get back on the writing soon.

For more of these go to: postsecret.blogspot.com

Happy Belated Mother's day.

Don't Talk (awkwardly) to Strangers.

I met a woman today. I met a woman with a one karat diamond in each ear, black stiletto Jimmy Choos, True Religion Jeans, and a simple yet probably ridiculously over-priced long-sleeved black v-neck. Her ensemble was effortlessly chic. Her demeanor confident and poised. She stopped at my favorite spot and asked to share my bench. I politely told her I didn’t mind at all. After a few minutes of silence while I took the last few sips of my grande soy caramel macchiato she said, “It’s gorgeous isn’t it?” A connoisseur of small talk I responded to her observation of the ocean with, “Yeah.” Once I totally awkward-ized the situation she said with a slight smile to herself, “My husband proposed to me here.” She didn’t look at me once the entire time she spoke. She merely kept looking straight ahead at the ocean. I responded with, “It is a lovely place for a proposal,” hoping to have sounded a bit more articulate. “I left him today.” This I did not expect at all. “I’m flying to New York tonight.” Having no idea how to respond, nor even how to react, I chose not to and simply followed her lead by continually staring at the ocean. Then she said, “If you’re thinking it’s because of a lover or because he had a lover that’s not it. Well, he did have a lover, a good friend of ours actually, but I honestly couldn’t care less. I left for me. I guess I finally came to the realization today that while he could be the love of my life, I couldn’t stand myself with him. I can’t pretend to be the perfect couple, the perfect wife, the perfectly content barren family. Not that I have even ever wanted children. It’s just I am so tired of the questions. I am tired of running into people at the grocery store who know every detail of my marriage and who pretend that they don’t. I’m tired of people wondering whether I’ve tried IVF, whether I want to adopt, but ultimately wondering why I don’t have a stronger desire to be a mother.
I’ve never run away before. I’ve never had the means to. But now it’s like everything in my life is different and I’m exactly the same. Strange, I know. I married him right out of college. I’ve been his wife and business partner for eight years. And that’s it. I have the same friends, the same town house, and the same car I’ve had for eight years. I’ve never made an important decision in my life without thinking about other people. And today it sort of just dawned on me that I am completely unhappy. I don’t think I envisioned this when I married him. I don’t think I envisioned this ever. And I know ‘running away’ seems cowardly and maybe even stupid. But I think it takes balls to do what I’m doing. I don’t even know anyone in New York! I mean seriously…what am I doing?!” She stopped. She ever so slightly lifted her Chanel sunglasses and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue she grabbed from her Christian Dior purse. “I’m leaving. That’s what I’m doing. I’m finally, finally going to be on my own. God, that sounds so scary and so good. I. Am. Leaving.” She took a deep breath and finally turned to me. “Thank you for sharing your bench dear,” she said as she lightly touched my forearm. I once again quite awkwardly said, “Yeah.” She grabbed her purse, smiled, and left.
Maybe I didn’t meet that woman today. Maybe she was practicing for an audition or made it all up. Maybe I just met a personification of one of my biggest fears. Maybe I’m supposed to realize that no one really knows what they want. Maybe everyone feels like picking up and leaving at one point or another. Maybe that makes it okay for me to want that. Or, maybe none of this means anything more than another woman left her husband today. Either way, I think everyone should learn to be less awkward with strangers.

Untitled

This was supposed to be part of a larger work that was never finished. It's pretty random to say the least...

It was that point in the evening where the clouds began to cover the city. Staring at what stars you struggled to see, it’s easy to notice that something else was going on in the sky. The clouds begin their graceful dance to come together and envelop the city. As if they wanted to rock everyone to sleep in their embrace; to shield everyone from the fears of the night. And there she stood. In her silver sexy-yet-functional heels, her favorite and most versatile little black dress, the floating diamond necklace from their first anniversary, and her hair perfectly straightened, hanging just past her shoulder blades. She turned when she heard someone coming, and immediately put out her Marlboro light. Oops, it was just Stephen. “You should really quit that shit you know?” He was leaning in the doorway to the balcony with one hand in his pocket and the other holding his jacket at his side. “Damn, he looks good tonight.” She quietly thought to herself. He wore the Gucci black pinstripe suit that night, with a sky blue dress shirt rather than the typical white and the matching pinstripe tie from two Valentine’s Days ago. “Right…hypocrite.” She said playfully as she put her pack of cigarettes and lighter back into her purse in the secret pocket, so as to not allow anyone to call her a “smoker.” She fucking hated that term. “Ready?” he asked, standing up straight and placing his jacket in his other hand in one fluid movement. She looked back up at the sky once more, then turned, smiled, and answered cheerfully sarcastic, “Of course babe! Let’s go.” He put his jacket on, she took a hold of his arm, and they left the balcony, walked downstairs and into their Porsche Carrera (Stephen’s pride and joy). It was Adrienne’s wake they were leaving for. And she couldn’t help but wonder when the hell it was made okay for her friends to start dying on her. Adrienne was thirty seven, a mother of two and was married to a wonderful corporate lawyer who adored her. “In what sick world does such a fortunate woman have to die rather than the moronic drunk driver who hit her?” Tessa thought out loud on the way to Adrienne’s home, she looked to Stephen for an answer. “Tessa, shit happens. Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s bad. That’s just the way it is.” “Thank you dear, you’re so fucking eloquent.” She snapped back at him. Stephen said nothing, and just held her hand, knowing it was both what she wanted and needed, but something she would also never admit.

The Morning After

Jacob, my TA in my dramatic writing class, had us write down a scene with only action and no dialogue. It was an in-class assignment, and this was the first thing that popped into my head. Keep in mind that I write fiction. Thank you.

She opened her eyes and became startled when she realized the bedroom she woke up in was not her own. She looked under the covers to discover that she had apparently slept in her underwear. She reluctantly turns to her right to see who’s bedroom she was in. She sees his face and, him being a handsome man, half smiles with a look of content. She lifts the covers just enough for her to be able to slip out, very carefully maneuvering out of the bed. She doesn’t realize her right leg is a bit entangled in the sheets and ends up falling onto the floor in the least graceful, least quiet way possible. She quickly peeks over the side of the bed trying to hide behind it. The man simply rolls over but does not wake. She lets out a sigh of relief and begins to search for her clothes and various belongings. She finds her dress, shoes, and cell phone quickly. She puts on her dress and her shoes, and clutches her cell phone in her right hand. She looks around the room, seemingly bewildered. Then she sees them. Her keys are right next to the man’s face on his night stand. She mouths the word “Fuck!” raises then drops her hands in frustration then puts her left had to her forehead thinking. Having formulated a plan in her head, she takes her shoes back off, holds them in her right hand with her cell phone and very quietly and slowly tip toes in the direction of her keys. She accidentally stubs her toe on the corner of the bed. She lets out an “Ow!” quite loudly then quickly covers her mouth with her left hand and completely stops moving. Again the man stirs but is not awakened. She takes her hand off her face and sighs again. She inches closer and closer to her keys and with her left thumb and index finger picks them up making sure not to move and have them make noise. She lifts them and brings them closer to her body. Then with her shoes, phone and keys clutched tightly to her body she tip toes backwards toward the door. The man stirs again. She stops moving and tightly closes her eyes wishing him not to wake. He begins to snore, she opens her right eye, then her left. The man is still obviously asleep. She makes it to the door and she opens it quickly but quietly. She turns to exit, and then sees that the man is awake, sitting up, and looking at her.

He's in Love With a Stripper

This was my second assignment that I just turned in, in my dramatic writing class. Jacob, my TA, gave good reviews and thought that I should expand on it and make into a short play. Who knows...maybe I will.

He's in Love With a Stripper

Her name was Amelia Cassack. But everyone at work called her Cassie. Largely in part because she didn’t want anyone to know her real name. In her line of work this type of consideration was essential to her safety. She was 20 and gorgeous, therefore using her looks to pay her way through school.

His name was Stephen Lerner. He has just turned 21 and has never been to a strip club. His four best friends thinking this to be the most ridiculous thing ever, decided to surprise him for his birthday. They brought him to a strip club, got him drunk, and then bought him a lap dance (in that order).

(Stephen nervously taps right foot simultaneously tapping his left hand on his left knee to opposite rhythms. Amelia walks in wearing a red see through type of nightgown, black patent high heeled boots that went up to her knees, a black thong, and black lacy bra. Stephen stands now tapping his left hand on his side, faster.)

Amelia
(She drops her purse of cash in the corner of the room.)
Hey there big boy.

Stephen
Hi.
(Still tapping his hand, and obviously nervous.)

Amelia
Why don’t you have a seat?
(She’s turned around adjusting her bra, and then bends over to adjust her boots.)

Stephen
(He stops moving altogether when she bends over.)
Okay.
(He doesn’t sit down.)

Amelia
(She turns around.)
Did you want me to give you a lap dance standing up?

Stephen
What?
(He begins nervously tapping his hand again.)

Amelia
(Walks up close to him, and grabs his hand to make it stop. She whispers in his ear.)
You should sit down.
(He does.)

Stephen
Hi. I’m Stephen.
(He extends his hand to Amelia for a handshake. She ignores it.)

Amelia
(Giggles)
I’m going to turn the music on now. And remember you can look, but you can’t touch. Unless, of course, I ask you to. Got it?

Stephen
(Nods a little too quickly)
Okay.

Amelia
(She flips a switch that turns on the music and a series of rotating disco balls.)
You ready for me big boy?

Stephen
Uh…yeah…uh…huh…
(He has been nodding the whole time.)

Amelia
First time?
(Amelia is bending over in front of Stephen, looking at him from between her legs, she slowly rises and begins to take off the red see through nightgown slowly.)

Stephen
Uh…yeah… I mean…
(clears his throat)
naw… I uh…yeah…
(He just leans back and stares.)

Amelia
(With her nightgown off she walks toward him, and with one leg up, and about to straddle him, she suddenly stops)
Do I…know you?

Stephen
(Leans forward to get a better look at her)
OH SHIT! AMY???

Amelia
OH MY FUCKING…WHAT THE FUCK?!
(She gathers her clothing of the floor and tries to cover herself up with her see through nightgown)

Stephen
Oh my God! How are you?! Give me a hug!
(He stands with his arms open, but is stumbling drunk.)

Amelia
You have got to be fucking shitting me. You’re so fucking drunk.
(She turns off the music and lights)

Stephen

It’s my birthday! What are you doing here anyway? Whoa…I’m gonna need to sit down again.

Amelia
Um. I work here. I almost gave you a lap dance remember?
(She motions toward her outfit)

Stephen
Oh yeah! You got fucking hot!
(He says with a big smile on his face.)

Amelia
(She steps closer toward him.)
Look Stephen, I’d rather if you not say anything about me working here. And if you not tell anyone here my name’s Amelia. If anyone asks, it’s Cassie okay?

Stephen
Of course, anything for an old friend. Now how about that hug?
(He opens his arms up again.)

Amelia
Stephen, I can’t. I’m sorry. I have to go.
(She leaves.)

Stephen
Now why does that sound so familiar?
(He grabs his jacket, and uses as it as blanket to take a nap.)

Greg and Tess

I'm taking a dramatic writing class this quarter, and it's a tad challenging due to the fact that I write fiction, not plays or screenplays. But the class gave me good reviews on my first attempt. Here it goes:

Greg
So where were you today?

Tess
I told you, I went to lunch with the girls.

Greg
All day? Did you guys hang out after too or something?

Tess
Um, well after lunch I went out for a little bit.

Greg
It’s nine o’clock Tess. You’ve been out for like twelve hours.

Tess
No I went out at like ten…so it was only like eleven hours. (begins to straddle him in his seat, kiss his neck, talk in baby talk, etc.)

Greg
(He stops her, and holds her away at shoulder‘s length) Teresa, stop being cute, I was worried.

Tess
Shit…okay honey, I’m sorry God…(gets off him and walks into the bathroom, Greg follows her and leans against the doorway as she takes off her make-up)

Greg
I called Jules, she said you got out of lunch at one.

Tess
Yeah, we did.

Greg
She also said you didn’t want to go shopping with Maggie afterwards.

Tess
Yeah, I wasn’t really in the mood. Plus I’ve been spending too much money lately. So you should be proud of my self-restraint. Why are you all concerned with where I go all of the sudden anyway?

Greg
Straight up? (she nods) Okay, like I said before I was really worried and it was getting late and you weren’t here so-(she interrupts him)

Tess
Aw, how cute you were worried about me. (She puts her arms around his neck and begins to kiss him)

Greg
(smiles as she kisses him, but then pushes her away again) Tess, come on, just tell me where you were.

Tess
(arms still wrapped around him) Ugh, okay, since it’s not a big deal, I went to McMillan’s office. (begins to kiss him again)

Greg
(stops kissing and holds her away from him) McMillan’s office?

Tess
Yeah.

Greg
Dr. McMillan? The friendly neighborhood oncologist?!

Tess
Yeah. It was just a little check up, whatever, then I went to get some coffee and write a bit at the café around the corner from his place and now I’m here.

Greg
Little check ups are not “whatever” and definitely don’t happen at ONCOLOGY offices.

Tess
Yeah they do. And how the hell would you know anything about it anyway?

Greg
Because I talked to Robert and he said you were having a round of chemo. (Tess immediately stops what she’s doing) So are you going to tell me what’s going on now?
(Tess is quiet, she pushes past him and heads to the kitchen, she leans against the sink looking for a way out of their conversation)

Greg
Don’t do this Tess. Don’t shut me out, you need to talk to me. We have a life together now. (She begins to wash the dishes, he shuts of the water, furious.) Damnit Tess! Talk to me!

Tess
(She turns the water back on and begins washing the dishes again) Gregory Capana, why are these dishes just sitting in the sink?

Greg
(Attempting to be calm but still apparently furious) Teresa look at me.

Tess
I’m cleaning up after you, can’t you be more appreciative?

Greg
Tess, just turn around. (He starts to rub her back)

Tess
It’s really not that hard to put dishes in the dishwasher. (She’s beginning to break down.)

Greg
Tess…

Tess
I mean you eat something, and then you fucking clean it. It’s that simple, and some dumbasses can’t even do stupid simple shit like that. It’s not like I’m asking you to become a servant or some shit like that. I just hate always having to be the Mom here. (the last few words are staggered as Tess is trying not to cry)

Greg
(he finally gets to her and holds her hands in his and puts dishes down, and turns off the water. Tess begins to cry, he turns her to face him) Talk to me.

Tess
FUCK! (she breaks down, he holds her) Last month, remember when I had my annual, it was all routine you know, they do the normal tests and whatever.

Greg
Mhm…yeah I remember

Tess
Then a week later they tell me I need to come in right away, but they didn’t tell me what for. So, I go in and um…(she tries to hold back her tears) they have the results of my tests…

Greg
yeah…

Tess
And um… (she pauses) it’s back.

Greg
Oh God, Tess… (he holds her more tightly, she semi-pushes him away)

Tess
Greggy, there was more.

Greg
Okay what?

Tess
I was supposed to have my first round of chemo today, just like Robert told you, but I decided not to.

Greg
What?!

Tess
Greg, just listen to me. (she sighs and tries to pace herself as she speaks) I didn’t tell you where I was going today because I didn’t want you to know, that (she pauses) it’s stage five. The chemo would’ve been useless anyway.

Greg
What?! Why didn’t you tell me all this before?!

Tess
How the fuck was I supposed to tell my fiance that even though I love him so much, and have been looking forward to becoming his wife for two years, a wedding would just be a waste of moeny! Huh?! I mean I could be gone in a year! I just…I love you Greg! And I didn’t want to put you through all this again.

Greg
All what?! All this shit that I already have to go through anyway?!

Tess
YES! All this shit! All this FUCKED UP SHIT! God Greg, I’m FUCKING DYING! Okay?! Happy?! Now you know everything! Woopdie doo! I told you, and now you’re hurt, and sad and whatever. But you know what? Fuck you! You’re not even the one dealing with ANYTHING! I’M dying. ME! I’m twenty-four fucking years old, I thought I beat it, and I was so FUCKING happy! And pretentious, and now I AM DYING! (lets out a big sigh as she just bursts into tears. Greg holds her as she tries to resist, and then finally gives in) I’m dying, Greg. (She whispers between sobs)

Greg
(holding her and trying to console her) I know, honey, I know. Shh..

Voice Over
Then he told me the nicest lie any girl could ask for.

Greg
You’re going to be fine. Everything’s going to be ok.

Voice Over
All I could think was, no, it’s not. In reality nothing’s going to be okay, and we both knew that. But I gave in to the lie because of how perfect it sounded.

Tess
Promise?

Greg
I Promise. (He kisses her)