Broad Awakening by Mickey Brent

Author:Mickey Brent [Brent, Mickey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781635552713
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books
Published: 2018-09-17T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

That evening, after doing the dishes, Hélène wandered upstairs to work on her latest poem. Humming at her desk, she rubbed the tips of her slippers together, ignoring Chaussette’s furry body bobbing on her thighs.

She flipped the pages of her botanical dictionary to find just the right word. M…Magnolia…Ma…Marigold…

“Merde! That’s the last thing I was looking for.” She slammed the dictionary shut, which startled Chaussette, who dove under the bed. Images of Goldie, Sylvie’s chubby orange cat, filled Hélène’s mind. Then her thoughts went to Sylvie and that soft cashmere sweater she was wearing at her place. Why is she always invading my mind? She tried to stop the intense feelings these images brought her. Once again, her efforts backfired. She clenched her pencil in frustration. I wonder what she’s doing right now? Their evening had ended so terribly, and Hélène wondered just what Sylvie thought of her. The alcohol had taken over, and she’d let irrational jealousy ruin what was promising to be a most interesting evening. But what was I thinking? Maybe Marc’s call came just in time to keep me from doing something I would regret later.

Just then, the phone rang.

After three rings, Mark yelled over the TV, “I’m not here. Unless it’s Maman.”

“As usual,” groaned Hélène, reaching for the phone. But when she saw the number, she gasped. “Non, non. Not her!” A knot formed in her throat. The phone rang again.

“Would you please pick the darn thing up?” hollered Marc.

But Hélène couldn’t do it. Strange that I was just thinking about her. I really want to know how she is, especially after our disastrous dinner last night. It’s just that… She could almost smell Sylvie’s soft scent on her skin. Despite her efforts, she couldn’t get her deep, chocolate eyes out of her mind. Then she saw herself running through the dark hallway and down the stairs, trying to get away from her. Her heart was beating wildly. Non! Not now. I can’t talk to her!

Finally, after the eighth ring, the phone stopped. She sighed with relief—until the answering machine kicked in. With her hands on her hips, she braced herself, ready to fight her rival like a rebellious cowboy.

“Hélène, it’s Sylvie. I didn’t get a chance to thank you for last night. Dinner was delicious. Also, I’d like to talk to you. So, when you hear this, please call me. Merci.”

Hélène stared at the answering machine, pressing her lips together. What can I say to her? Her heart was still thumping. She shook her head. I’ve nothing to say to her. Before she could stop herself, she pushed the erase button on the machine.

Afterward, no matter how hard she tried, the words in Hélène’s poem no longer made sense. Finally, she threw down her pencil. “Zut! I can’t concentrate, and it’s all her fault!”

Just then, the noise from the TV downstairs went silent.

“Whose fault is it?” Marc called out.

Hélène cleared her throat. “Ah…Just some stupid salesperson. You know how they are. Everyone’s

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