Man, it’s been a while since I put some fiction up on this site. Time to fix that. Here’s the first few pages of another story of mine I’m fond of, and probably the most normal story I’ve ever written ( so no hearse drivers talking to the dead in this one). Hope you dig it.
They sat at the edge of the waterfront, legs dangling over side of the marina with toes pointed to the ocean below, a bottle of champagne open and bubbling between the both of them. Oliver had undone his tie and untucked his shirt long ago, and his suit jacket was now tightly wrapped around Alice and her thin red dress. Oliver spent the better part of his week in his suit, typing numbers into spreadsheets ad nauseum, listening to his co-workers groan about management and their children’s baseball coaches. But now, even with the cold wind rising up from the waves lapping against the shore, he couldn’t help but admire how it looked draped around her shoulders.
Alice laid down and gazed up at the sky, another taste of warm champagne sliding down her throat, her curly strawberry blonde hair falling onto her shoulders. If it weren’t for the wedding ring on her left hand or the smidge of make-up she had under her eyes to hide her wrinkles, no one would scarcely believe she was thirty-three. Oliver wouldn’t, and neither did most of the men at the reunion, who had flocked around her like dogs begging for their master’s affection. She humored them for a while, but when she saw Oliver the past came rushing back, and it wasn’t long until they had left the others in the cramped dining hall and were on their own, galavanting around their teenage hang-outs and catching up old times.
They each took another sip of the champagne, their hot breath escaping into the cold night air, the alcohol coursing through their blood bringing them long past the point of small talk.
She smirked. “ Admit it, I was the best lay you ever had.”
Oliver said nothing, only smiled and stared up the darkened sky.
She pinched his arm. “ Come on.”
“ I don’t know what to tell you,” he laughed. “ You were good.”
“ I was the best,” she said, running her fingers through her hair. “ The best.”
“ Top three.”
She shook her head. “ So smug.”
He brought the champagne to his lips. “ Aren’t I?” He took a swig, the pale amber reflecting the moonlight of the bottle. He put it down and wiped his mouth. “Delicious.”
“ Well, you weren’t even in my top twenty,” she said with a smirk, throwing her hair back behind her head.
“ You have a top twenty? My, you’ve been a busy woman.”
“ Oh please.”
She grabbed the bottle and chugged the last bit of it, burped, and then tossed it into the ocean where the currents carried it away.
“ Impressive,” said Oliver. “Even if you did just litter.”
“ I always thought so, though few men have found it as charming as you.”
He laid back on the ground alongside her. “ You remember…when was it…maybe 10th grade. We came out here—me, you, Randy, Carl—and all went skinny dipping?”
She rolled her eyes. “ I bet you do.”
“Please,” he chuckled. “ you’re not bitter, are you?”
“ No. I just find it funny that a bunch of teenagers had to pretend to want to skinny dip to see girl naked.” She flashed him a glare.
“ That wasn’t it,” he said blushing, “ we thought it’d be fun.”
She laughed. “ If I remember correctly, you all covered up your manhood until we were neck deep.”
He shook his head. “Well, best laid plans…”
Silence. They both stared at the water, listening to the waves lapping up against the shore, each of them fidgeting and struggling to find the words to say.
Alice sighed. “Jesus Oliver, when’d we go and get so damn boring?”
He laughed. “ You always had a way with words, Alice.” He stood up shakily, the champagne making it’s presence known, and leaned against the guardrail. “ I don’t think we’re boring.”
She adjusted her dress. “ What’s the last exciting thing you did?”
He bit his lip. “ Well…I went to Venice last year. Gorgeous.”
She crossed her arms. “That doesn’t count.”
“ Of course it does.”
“ No, it doesn’t.” She got up began to pace back and forth. “You planned it—you thought about it, figured out how to do it, saved up for it, and then,” she snapped her fingers, “ you went. That’s not exciting.”
“ And what is?”
She threw her hands up. “ I don’t know. I don’t—it can’t be planned. Spontaneity, doing something just to do it. It hits your brain—bam!—you do it. No planning, no thinking—pure reaction.”
“ Sounds a bit silly.”
“ That’s the point! We went and became grown ups and for what? A steady paycheck? Pension?”
“ I thought it was your husband who worked?” Oliver said with a grin.
Her face went red out of both embarrassment and guilt—guilt because she’d been having such a good time she’d forgotten about him. David, sleeping peacefully in their bed after their argument—of course he didn’t get a sitter—while she had gone to the reunion alone. Then the thought passed that if he had actually come she would’ve seen Oliver, talked for a brief minute or two and left.
She was glad he was sleeping.
“That’s not the point, and it’s not funny either,” she retorted. “ I’m serious. We’re not meant to be housewives and accountants.”
“ I guess I was always partial to being a fireman.” He laughed at his own bad joke.
She looked at him in the eye and smiled. “ Come on, let’s do something crazy.”
Oliver waved his hand.“ I’m not driving.”
“ Not that. And stop being such an old fart!”
“ I’m not old.”
“ You certainly act it.”
“Pfft.” He sat down against the guardrail. She walked over and kicked him in the ribs lightly.
“ Come on, get up.”
He held his stomach.“ You know, it’s not smart to kick a man with a belly full of champagne.”
“Forget smart—let’s go have fun.”
“If you’re thinking of jumping into the ocean right now, you can do it by yourself. Just take the jacket off.”
“ Just—come on, let’s walk!”