Voice of Innocence: A Coming-Of-Age Sweet Romance by Lindsay Detwiler

Author:Lindsay Detwiler [Detwiler, Lindsay]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-03-26T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen: The Coffee Angel

Emma

I glance down at my hand now, noticing the absence of that particular diamond chipped band on my hand. A diamond solitaire and a solid gold band now sit where it once had rested, but they are not Corbin’s. They belong to another man and another time. Truth be told, they belong to a woman who is completely different than that naive girl who relished in the simplicity of love and its promises. Sitting in that truck on my eighteenth birthday, I had wondered what the engagement ring Corbin would give me would look like. I wondered how he would propose, where we would get married. I never thought for a second that his promises wouldn’t come true.

I realize that I have somehow ended up in the tub in the midst of my memories. Mountains of suds and bubbles cover my body as the now-chilled water taunts my skin, goose-bumped and wrinkled. As I debate whether or not I truly have to wash my grotesque, greasy hair, the phone rings, pounding in its urgency. Ignoring the water splashing onto the floor, I leap out of the tub, grab my towel, and slide across the tile, bone chillingly icy on my slippery feet. Trickles of water cascade down my back in the hall as I traipse to my bedroom where a cordless phone rests on its receiver. I pick up the phone, hoping not to zap myself from getting water on the receiver.

“Hello?” I say, my voice gritty from not being used for hours.

“Hey, baby, how are you?” The familiar voice, warm and sinuous, clutches me with its familiarity, making me feel at home. The depth of his greeting, as simple as it is, soothes the edginess in my soul. It’s amazing how just a few words from him can melt away the coarseness of my inner being.

“I’m good, John. What’s up?” Despite the comfort I find in his voice, my words still sound spacey. I’m not fooling anyone with my “I’m fine” act.

John rarely calls me while he’s at work. His hectic schedule leaves few minutes for eating, let alone phone calls just to chat. Thus, I know he is worried about me, worried about what today might do to me. Maybe he is worried about what it might do to us.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” he admitted. Great. Just as I suspected, he is concerned about me. Do I seem that fragile to everyone these days? Everyone seems to think I am going to crack into pieces today. I feel like my family has worked out a suicide watch schedule, ready to pounce in with a SWAT team the second I seem on edge.

“I’m fine. Just took a bath and read a magazine. Hank’s sleeping already,” I added, hoping to change the focus of the conversation. I try to sound confident, collected, like it’s a regular day. It doesn’t seem to be working because John just breathes loudly in the phone, a sign of his uneasiness.

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