Unread Letter


I had a long, heartbreaking letter ready to be published. A letter I would never let my mom read.

But then I thought I don’t need a letter to tell her I love her. That I’m sorry for the times I’ve been (and sometimes still am) ungrateful. And that I’m thankful for every single day she dedicated (and still is) to me.

So no letter, just the few lines above, and the rest will be privately between us.

Now with the writings.

Recently I’ve published what I consider a shorter version of a normal short story. What’s Prologue is Past. I feel proud I’ve complete (even if it is a shorter version of a short story) with an ending and not an open ending as I usually do. I feel optimistic for what is about to come; a more concrete story is on its way.

- S

PS: To all mother’s, happy mother’s day!

What’s Past is Prologue


Traveling alone has always brought contradicting emotions in Zooey. The moment she parted from friends and family, that gate that ended physical interaction, was always a moment of held back tears and a big lump in her throat.

Then once the gate was crossed and she was alone she felt suddnly independent, despite her was already 23 years, she felt the world in her hands.

So once she had found her boarding gate, after the one on her ticket turned out to have been changed, she sat on the nearest chair to the boarding gate – she always felt the urge to get on the plane first and secure space for her trolley- opened her science fiction book that seemed to never end and turned on her iPod.

When her red trolley was securely under her legs and her hand bag safe under her arm, she started reading while Linkin Park distracted her from time to time. Occasionally she would look at people passing by or the ones laughing and talking in front of her, thinking she too could socially engage with someone, but would rather not. And since decisions were hers to make, she decided not to.

After reading three pages she shut the book and decided Linkin Park won over science fiction and that reading outside her comfort zone of classic romantic literature and love stories was not working for her. She was enjoying the vampiric apocalypse Guillermo del Toro’s The Strain described and it was a fast read too to start with, but knowing that somewhere in her bookshelf a heroine was waiting to meet her future lover whom she would hate first than tremendously fall in love with, was more intriguing despite its lack of originality.

It was when her mind had gone back to when she was reading Wuthering Heights for the fifth time – and how she had enjoyed it like it was the first time -  that she noticed a man standing in front of her staring. Her whole body went on alert, the hair on her skin standing as she her father’s usual list of many don’ts suddenly came into her mind.

Don’t talk to strangers or take anything from strangers. Even if the ask to guard their bag while they are at the bathroom. Don’t take any kind of food, even if it’s closed.

As she prepared herself to give the “what do you want” look she always reserved for people who approached her unexpectedly. She realized that man looked familiar and Zooey’s face relaxed as the man came forward smiling.

“Zooey?” As the man gently smiled, Zooey seemed to have lost the use of words, her mouth remained half-opened, while her mind was wondering what were the chances of meeting your ex in an airport, after more than five years of no contacts.

“K-Kevin hi!” She blushed and stood to greet him then crossed her arms and forced a smile as her mind inevitably went back to the moment of their break up and how she had screamed to him on the phone not to call her again. Ever.

Feeling embarrassed and uneasy she sat and to her discomfort, he sat next to her.

“How are you doing? You look good!” He rested his elbows on his knees and titled his head to look at her. She looked away and smiled, thankful for the few minutes she spent in the airport bathroom to put some make up on, before heading to the boarding gate.

“I’m good. What about you?” She tried to shift the attention on him, and it worked for he looked away and stared at his clasped hands in front of him.

“Am alright.” As he played with his fingers, Zooey noticed a shining golden strip on his finger.

“You’re married.” She said before she even realized. He smiled and played with it with his thumb before nodding.

“I don’t know if you remember,” he started after a pause still looking at his hands, “but I once told you I had a dream where we would meet after long in an airport…”

“And I had blue eyes., yes.They are still brown.” she added trying to lessen the tense atmosphere. He forced a laugh and nodded.

“Yes. Well, it was a dream.”

Now Zooey had hoped she still had the book open and was reading, for if she was, Kevin would probably not have noticed her and if he did, he might not have even talked to her.  The more silent they remained, the stronger memories come rushing into her head. Memories of when she met him for the first time in high school. Memories of when she realized she liked him. And memories of how they had parted and the harsh words she said and didn’t regret. She also remember how, more than once, her conscience took the best of her and she tried to apologize, never directly, but through messages. And how he had listen to what she had said to him and never replied to her apologies.

“Listen Kevin…” she started then stopped thinking of changing the subject, but the words were already in her mouth. “I’m sorry how it…you know ended…”

Remembering the wedding ring, she felt that maybe this wasn’t appropriate now that he was married.

“Yea…” he said playing with his ring, “well…it happens.” He sighed and forced a smile. ” We were on different stages of our relationship. I wanted to get more serious and you didn’t.”

Zooey raised an eyebrow something inside her snapping; was he putting the blame all on her?

“I was 18…” she said in a matter of fact tone trying hard to sound calm, “and it’s not like we had a…relationship.”

Kevin looked at her smiling and troubled.

“I mean when I moved to college, we only talked over the phone.” she hastily justified, “and even before, we rarely really met alone.”

He looked back at his hands still smiling and saying nothing.

Zooey felt worse now, but decided to continue with her apologies.

“But I shouldn’t have been that hard on you.” She said rolling her eyes without Kevin noticing.

“You know I was really serious about us. About marriage.” He looked at her, his eyes fixed on hers for the unspoken answer he wished for. But Zooey looked away blushing and shaking her head.

“I was serious about us too” she said, “at first at least. I mean I really liked you. Even when I confessed to you and you sent me off to Mike saying he likes me too and I should be with him.”

“That was a mistake. I think I apologised for it.”

“Yes yes you did. But it wasn’t nice anyways.”

Silence seemed to have taken over the airport; Zooey could hear only her thoughts and memories and people’s voices seemed far and distant.

“You know…” he started while playing his ring, “I still don’t know what went wrong between us. Why it ended I mean.”

Zooey sighed for she expected this to come.

“I don’t know Kevin. I was 18 and going to college. You wanted to get married. I freaked out.” She turned to look at him. “I didn’t feel what we had, was a relationship. Don’t get me wrong I was happy.” She quickly added, “But you never even tried to…kiss me.”

He smiled not looking at her and for a moment hid his face in his hands. His ring shining.

“I mean I know we had been together for a short time and I really liked how you respected me and everything.” she shook her head, “but sometimes I wished you could just push me against the wall…” she blushed hesitating as his ring caught the shadow of someone passing by.

Damn it Zooey, shut the hell up. She thought as she stared at the opening gate time and wished two hours would magically disappeared.

“That-that was inappropriate, I’m sorry.”

“No no it’s fine. At least now I know.” He looked at her, “I thought I was do the right thing with you, you know.” he laughed, “I wanted to push you against the wall every time I saw you. And not just to kiss you.”

Zooey opened her mouth but shut it again her body suddenly becoming hot.

“I thought…I was respecting you. Giving you the time you needed. I wanted to do things right with you.”

“I know I know.” Zooey said scratching her forehead. “We wanted the same things but in different ways I guess.”

He turned and looked her “what do you mean?” he asked smiling wryly.

Zooey smiled blushing and scratching her forehead even harder.

“Nothing, so where are you headed?” She asked trying to change the subject.

“Oh come on!” Kevin insisted punching gently her arm. Zooey laughed shaking her head and feeling her cheeks on flames.

“Oh come one! its more than five years ago! We didn’t talk back then, why not do it now?” He insisted and she could feel he was trying to catch her eyes.

“You are married now.”

“What did you want?”

“Kevin…drop it”

“What did you want?”

“Zooey, what did you want?” He repeated.

“Damn it Kevin,” she snapped, she lowered her voice now turning toward him “I wanted you to kiss me. I wanted you to touch me. I wanted to have sex with you. I didn’t want you just to respect me but to want me also. Happy now?”

Kevin remained speechless his mouth slightly opened. Zooey bit her lower lip nervously. Their lives had taken different directions; he was now married and she was to begin her new life in another country. Was all of this necessary?

Zooey looked at her watch and stood up.

“I-I need to get something before I leave,” She grabbed her bag and pulled her trolley, “It was nice seeing you Kevin. Have a safe trip.” Before he could answer she left heading for no place in particular. She headed for the stairs, far from his sight, and decide she would decide then where to go and hide for the next two hours before she could get on that plane and forget this encounter ever happened.

But before she could reach the stairs, she felt her arm pulled backward. She turned around and Kevin was holding her arm. She opened her mouth to protest, rather irritated but he took her face in his hands and kissed gently then passionately.

When they parted he didn’t look at her, instead he took her hand and walked her behind him. Zooey had just the time to rationally remember to get hold of the trolley and pull it with her. Her mind seemed distant, its sounds too faint now that her heart was echoing loud in her ears. Kevin stopped in front of a door, looked around, then pulled her inside, check if there was someone, then locked the door and went to stand away from her.

Zooey stood by the locked door petrified, the trolley still in her sweaty hand, looking at Kevin. He had his hands in his hair, his tormented face fixed on the dark marble tile floor. When their eyes met, he walked toward her. She instinctively stepped back, her head bumping the door first, then her body.

Kevin didn’t hesitate he kissed her again passionately on her lips, her cheeks, her neck. The few times he paused, Zooey was able to think rationally, but the pauses became less frequent and soon Zooey found herself losing her rational mind and kissing him back.

As they kissed, he moved her toward the sinks, and lifted her onto the counter. He started unbuttoning his white shirt and she pulled off her grey t-shirt. He stopped, looking at her then pulled her against him, hip to hip and kissed her as he unbuttoned her jeans. Zooey pulled him closer her hands over his chest, his back, his arms, then again on his chest. He pulled away, his fingertips over her cheek—pausing to circle her mouth—and stared at her before kissing her again, his hands reaching under her bra.

Her legs were on either side of him; her ankles crossed behind his back while her hands busy in his hair, her fingers wrapping in and pulling him closer.

Except for the occasional call for passengers they faintly heard from behind the door, all they could hear was their heavy breathing on each other’s skins.

When they parted, Kevin gently lifted her off the counter and stepped away, his hands in his hair. Zooey entered a cabin taking some of her clothes on her way. She took a moment to breathe, her mind still intoxicated, then pulled up her jeans and went out of the cabin to look for the rest of her clothes. They dressed silently and as Zooey put back on her t-shirt, she noticed Kevin’s wedding ring, shining, despite the dim light.

She was heading for the door when Kevin pulled her back into his arms and kissed intensely. Their eyes met. She kissed him back, then parted without a word while he was still embracing her. She took her bag and her trolley, unlocked the door and exited.

She headed back to her boarding gat and was almost surprised to find her seat still empty. She sat. Turned on her iPod. Opened her book, but didn’t look at it.

Now not even Papa Roach, could distract her. As the tracks shuffled and repeated themselves, Zooey’s mind kept going back to the bathroom. To what had happened.

If it wasn’t for the crowd that formed in front of the boarding gate, Zooey wouldn’t have realized that it was time to get on the plane. In an automatic reflex she stood and waited for her turn. Before handing her boarding pass though, she instinctively looked behind her. But the crowd had also formed behind her and it was impossible to make out his face. If he even was there.

After she was seated and strangely found an empty spot for her trolley above her, Zooey’s mind was still in the bathroom. Maybe she should have stopped him. Maybe she shouldn’t have left him without saying a word. Maybe she should stopped and talked about it. Maybe she shouldn’t have started talking about their relationship at all.

Maybe she shouldn’t have left him five years ago.

Memories of a City that Never Sleeps


While waiting to post my short story (I’m stacking chapters so I don’t end up posting nothing) here are some memories of my visit to a city that in one week amazed me and stole my heart.

Stories super soon, I promise.

- S.

DSC_1570 DSC_1662 DSC_1264 DSC_0135 DSC_0057 DSC_0080 DSC_1165

Ungiven Kiss


Just before his lips could reach hers, she turns away.

He sighs her name against her ear, his voice full of desire and frustration, his breath hot on her neck.

He could feel her tremble under his hands, gently caressing her arms. Then as if this moment never happened, he reluclantly released her as the door opened behind them.

Dreams


Dreams are sweet joys of what life can be

hidden unspoken secretly kept desires unrevealed to the world

Waking up from a desire, a dream and facing cold reality

The bitter sadness of reality’s brutal difficulty and truth,

Can stop a heart beating

Lungs from breathing

Mind from living,

But the night comes,

the night always comes,

And with joy you can once again have the life you seem you can only wish for

Once again you can close you eyes

And with a bit of melancholy,

You can once again dream of life

Love…


I found these two excerpts I wrote about love one year ago.  They are really tiny, but found myself smiling as I read them.

Edited.

And remember “Love is a promise; love is a souvenir, once given never forgotten, never let it disappear.” – John Lennon

- S

“Lying on a bench, with my head resting on his laps. Me reading a book, he smoking a cigarette. Then, with his finger, he started making small circles around my navel. I pretended I didn’t feel the first, the second, the third circle that were instead burning my skin. I pretended I was absorbed in my book. I don’t remember how many times I read that first line of the page. Now that I think about it I don’t even remember the title of the book. I only remember the seven circles he craved on my skin before he kissed me.”

“He kissed me on the forehead, on the cheek, on the lips biting them softly. And when he stopped, he stopped the air from existing and the my heart from beating. It was then, that I started kissing him…”

Number 2070 Teller 3


Waiting has never been Clara’s virtue, especially when she was in banks. According to Clara, bankers seemed to enjoy making people wait and to enjoy taking their jobs as slowly and irritably as possible. As she impatiently sighed and checked the amount of people waiting like her, she couldn’t help but notice how a banker was not receiving any costumers, and to Clara, he was the reason she has been waiting for more than 15 minutes.

She sighed adjusting her flower scarf and looked at her mother who was still looking for a pen in her big brown bag.

“I think I’ve got a pen,” Clara said happy for an opportunity to do something. She opened her bag, much smaller than her mother’s, and after a couple of seconds found the blue pen, she remembered putting in her bag early this morning. She handed it to her mother and continued to stare at the led rectangle monitor now, giving number 2051.

19 people to go Clara sighed looking around; she was almost certain there weren’t 19 people in the room. Suddenly the thought that some people, tired of waiting, had left cheered her up a little as she also noticed that most of the people had come after her.

“How about eating out today?”  She asked her mother, who was writing in her personal note-book.

“Huh?”

“I said,” the rectangle led screen blinked and beeped and now number 2053 was in bright red. No one stood, seconds passed, the led screen blinked and beeped again and it was now showing number 2054 at teller 4. A man holding a white enveloped hurried as he thanked a young woman for lending him a pen.

“I said,” Clara repeated, “why don’t we eat out today?”

“Where? There are not many good restaurants around here.” Clara’s mother mouth twisted. Clara, thought of the nearby restaurants. There was the Mexican restaurant that was good and with reasonable prices and the Syrian restaurant that had really good chicken shawerma sandwiches. There was also Clara’s favourite, Japanese restaurant with the best sushi Clara has ever tasted. But she knew her mother was not too  fond of sushi and it would cost too much anyway. Her spirits suddenly down again, Clara sighed knowing they would probably eat at home.

“Maybe we could have breakfast tomorrow and eat at home today.” Clara said, half resigned half  actually happy to be going home; her waiting in the bank seemed to have taken half her life. Clara’s mother nodded.

“Yes. It’s better. But I’ll wake you up early. Not like today.” Clara rolled her eyes; no matter how her mother put it, 10.30 was early for Clara and she couldn’t imagine what timing her mother was thinking of waking her up tomorrow.

“We’ll see then.” Then she added hastily before her mother could tell again how 10.30 was not considered early at all, “only a few left!” Clara’s mother turned to looked at the number on the led screen and as she did this, Clara glimpsed wrinkles on her mother’s neck half hidden by her yellow scarf. Suddenly she felt her heart sinking as she remember how only two days it was her mother’s birthday and how 48 didn’t seem like an old age for Clara. In fact, she was quiet certain her mother was pretty young compared to her friends mothers.

But the few wrinkles she glimpsed seemed to prove her wrong and the thought of her mother getting old distracted her from the blinking and beeping of the led screen. Soon her mother will be old and soon Clara will be left alone. Her mother was the only person who knew her well enough to endure all her moods. What will she do when she would be too old to listen to her?

She pushed these thoughts away as they were now trying to reach for her throat tightening its grip. It’s just the scarf…maybe it’s too tight around the neck. But her mind was too smart to accept such an excuse, feeling foolish she shook her head and lowered it, hiding her mouth in her scarf. As her thoughts seemed to be getting louder, and painful, she raised her head and looked at the led screen without reading the numbers.

“At what time tomorrow?” Clara asked without looking at her mother. She felt her voice shaking, and tried to hide it by clearing her throat.

“I don’t know…” her mother said fixing her hair behind her ear, “9.30 maybe?” Clara suppressed a sigh as 9.30 seemed like dawn to her. Suddenly she was glad her mind was now remembering how awfully tired she had been this morning when waking up at 10.30 and what a protest her whole mind and body would make tomorrow morning when waking one hour earlier. But Clara silently nodded.

“Ok…” she added “it’s on me, for your birthday.” Her mother turned to looked at her suspiciously.

“I didn’t really get you anything,” Clara added quickly. The led screen beeped and blinked and the young woman who had lent a pen to the men before stood and walked to the teller.

“I don’t need anything.” Clara’s mother said, “really, don’t spend your money.”

“It’s ok mum, I’ve got money, Don’t worry.” But her mother didn’t seem convinced and she was about to suggest how Clara should spend her money instead when the led screen blinked and beeped.

“It’s our turn!” Clara’s mother  said standing quickly and walking to teller number three. Clara, slightly taken by surprise, followed. She forced a smile to the banker and started talking about what had happened when they tried to  withdraw money from the ATM and nothing came out. She hesitated and lost trail of what she was saying and had to restart as she tried to push her mother’s thought out of her mind. Now another thought seemed to torment her, as the banker typed on his computer Clara’s account number; how time has passed quickly when she had talked to her mother. And how very little time they had before she would be gone. Maybe not, an optimistic side of her told her as the banker asked for her ID. For a second she seemed to have forgotten where it was, then found it where it had always been, in her wallet just after her credit card. She forced a smile again to the banker and gave him her ID as her mother checked from behind.

When they were done, and out of the bank Clara insisted on having lunch out today despite her mother’s protests. They decided to eat at the Mexican restaurant, her mother’s favourite and Clara’s thought seemed to have become more cheerful as they laughed at their cat’s, Pumpkin, habit of running around crazily whenever she saw a light reflecting from somewhere. As they drove back home, Clara promised her mother to wake up early tomorrow for breakfast and before her mother would start saying again how Clara shouldn’t spend so much money on her, Clara said they were her money, and she was free to spend them as she wanted to.

And how it didn’t seem to cost her anything when spending time together with her.

But she didn’t tell this to her mother, instead she smiled and set her phone alarm at 9.00 a.m.

New Year’s Resolution


It’s, again, that time of the year when I try in vain and make a new year’s resolution list, that I know won’t see the end of January.

However, I won’t give up; being the list maniac that I am I can’t avoid it. So this year too I’ll make a list and try, but really I’ll have to remember, to do as much as possible.

New Year’s Resolution List 2013:

- Read more books I wouldn’t normally read

- Stop planning and write the book

- Travel more, visit new places

- Don’t give up: closed doors mean only there are open, bigger ones waiting somewhere

- Thank more for what I have

- Exercise (The first that will drop off the list)

- Remember this, “Ask yourself this question: Will this matter a year from now?” quote by Richard Clarson American psychotherapist and writer Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff. Add also “Don’t worry, be happy!”

 

I guess that’s it so far. Can’t think of anything else to add really.

I wish you all a wonderful 2013, may all your dreams come true!

- S

What A Wonderful Dream Is To Be Me


Sometimes I betray myself and let myself go

On those rare occasions I regret and ask for nothing

On those rare occasions what I have is enough

On those rare occasions happiness is idealistic

On those rare occasions who I am is enough

But soon I realize the betrayal and soon everything is gone

Leaving only a trace, a dream, of what it had been to be free

to be me

Ah what a wonderful dream is to be me