2 Years. 24 Months. 730 Days. 17,530 Hours. (Short Story)

         Ok here is a short story I had to write for my creative writing class. Im kinda thinking about stretching it out into a longer story or series of stories. Let me know what you think.

       

T

wo years. Twenty-four Months. Seven Hundred and thirty Days. 17,530 hours. That’s how much of my life I had dedicated to Anthony Russo. We had met two years ago to the day. I had just moved to Manhattan to finish my last two years of school. I had always dreamed of moving back to the city after my parents moved us to New Jersey. I was shuffling down the hall of the Upper East Side dormitory, arms full and trying to find my way through the excitement overflowing from everywhere, when suddenly; in a moment of absolute blindness I ran into a massive wall of muscle and fell back on my ass in a flash. The box of clothes I had previously had in my hands was now littering the dingy green carpet all around me. I huffed and grumbled out an annoyed, “Why don’t you watch were the hell you’re going?” as I pushed myself onto my knees in my old faded blue jeans and tried to gather my clothes up before the rest of the building’s inhabitants had a chance to trample on them. In front of me I heard a soft chuckle from my assailant and a, “Sorry, didn’t see you doll face,” as he held one of my old t-shirts out to me. I glanced up and the world as I knew it was at an end. That was the unfortunate day I fell for Anthony Russo. Something about his dark eyes and cocky smirk captured my attention and paralyzed me. I bit down on my bottom lip and tried to ignore the warm blush creeping up my face as I grabbed what was left of my things and dashed.  Later, once I had actually made it to my room, my roommate filled me in on Antony and his reputation. Apparently He was what the girls called the perfect catch. He was gorgeous, always well dressed and put together. He had charm dripping from his pores and He came from a very wealthy family in the area and was the first in line to inherit everything that his parents owned.  This meant money and connections coming out the wazzo. The next morning, when I was greeted by a great, ordinate vase of flowers, compliments of Mr. Russo with his sincerest apology, my new roommate put her opinion of the whole situation in very simple terms. “You better jump on that pony before someone else does.” And I did. Anthony was the Italian king of the Upper East Side and for two years I stood by him as his queen. Until Today. Until Now.            

        So here we are on the eve of our two year anniversary at Aureole’s, one of the most expensive and outlandish, gourmet restaurants in the neighborhood.  It was the anniversary of the day we first laid eyes on each other.  We sat quietly across from each other most of the meal, in quiet contemplation. I could tell by the look in his eyes that there was something serious on his mind. All my girlfriends had convinced me that tonight was the night. My left ring finger tickled with anticipation. We had both graduated back in June, Me with my degree in Art and Anthony with a degree in Business. I had just started my new job at an art Gallery down in SoHo a week ago and Anthony was getting ready to step into his father shoes and learn the ropes of the multi-million dollar company he would be running himself one day. It seemed like our lives were finally starting to take off. Everything was right. No, everything was perfect. At least I thought so until my perfect world came crashing to a screeching halt as he said his next words. “I think we should start seeing other people Frankie.”           

            My wine glass stopped mid-air as I stared at him from my seat and then let out a small giggle and proceeded to sip my drink, blaming his dry sense of humor on his outburst, “Really not funny Tony. So how did the meeting go with your dad today?” My brown eyes glanced back over at him and the look on his face told me straight-up, there was no joking. He let out a soft sigh and ran a hand over the back of his neck. I’ve noticed over the years that he did this when he was most nervous, and Tony didn’t get nervous easy. This couldn’t be good. “I’m serious Frankie,” he said to me, “We’ve got all this new stuff going on in our lives. You’re going to be so busy with the gallery and you know how my dad is about the business, he’s going to want to make sure I know and understand everything. I just don’t think….” My attention faded away from what he was saying as the reality of the situation finally sunk in. Anthony was breaking up with me.  But why? We were so happy together. We were perfect together. Everybody thought so. His family loved me. My family loved him. It was meant to be. Everything had been so perfect….until last week. My perfectly arched brows furrowed together and my head shot up, as I muttered, “Italy.” He stopped after my interruption and stared at me like I had just grown a second head. “Italy? What are you talking about?”  I looked at him straight in the eye, “Italy. The trip you took to Italy this summer. You seemed so distant since you came back last week. I just thought it was jet lag, and the pressure your dad has been putting on you since graduation. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. You met somebody didn’t you?” His eyes left mine and glanced at almost every spot in the room, avoiding my gaze completely as he started spurting out excuses again, “Frankie I told you I just think we both have too much on our plates and…” I threw my napkin on the table in a fit of fury and stood up, “You bastard! You met someone and you didn’t have the nerve to tell me till now, on our anniversary!?” I could tell by the look on his face as I yelled, he was no longer worried about our argument, but about being embarrassed in such a public place, “Francesca, sit down,” he said in what anyone else would think was a calm voice, but I could hear the strain behind it.            

                 Without saying another word I grabbed my hand bag and quickly strutted out of the restaurant, refusing to let myself look back even once. I could feel my heart shattering into a million, stinging pieces inside my chest. I was so wrapped up in trying to keep my cool I didn’t even notice that Anthony had followed me outside until I felt his hand wrap around my upper arm and turn me around. I yanked my arm away from his tight grip and lashed out smacking him in the chest with my hand, “Do not touch me right now Anthony! Don’t touch me ever! Just….stay away from me!” I could see his jaw tighten as he tried to control his temper, “Why won’t you let me explain?”I Turned away from the curb to face him. “Explain? Explain what Tony? That while I was here being a faithful, loving, girlfriend you were off in pasta land cheating on me? Is that what you want to explain? Cause I think I got it!” I could tell by the look on his face that I was really starting to push his buttons. Crossing my arms I stared right back at him. “Go ahead Tony, explain. What are you waiting for? Come on Tony I don’t have all night! What was her name? Was she pretty?…Did you fall in love with her or did you just throw away everything we had for a stupid summer fling?”           

              He just stared back at me for a moment, trying to regain his composer as he took in a deep breath and then let it out before responding in a cold, distant tone, “Her name is Isabella. And, yes…we fell in love.”My world stops, and off in the distance I hear what little bit of my shattered heart is left fall to the floor. I quickly snap out of it as I hear the yellow cab pull up to the curb behind me. I stand up straight, refusing to let him tear me down to nothing in the middle of the street and I look him straight into the eyes, “Well…I hope it’s worth it.” I turn sharply, making my long curls fall from my shoulders and bounce lightly against my back, not giving him a chance to respond before I slip into the back seat of the cab and mutter to the cabbie, “13^th and Broadway please.”Once a few blocks away from the restaurant I let my head fall back against the back of the seat and shut my eyes letting out a shaky breath. The exhaustion hits my body like a Mack truck.  I wanted to curl up into a ball and die. I turn my head to the side to glance out and watch the city speed passed me. I had given Anthony all of me, more than I had ever given anyone else and he repays me by betraying me. What a freaking prince.           

                I’m so wrapped up in my thoughts I don’t noticed we have arrived at my apartment until the cabbie turns around and gets my attention, “Hey kid…This your stop?” I look out at the tall building and nod quietly. I reach into my purse and pull out some cash to cover my fee and hand it to the older man and reply in a soft voice, “Thanks,” before climbing out of the cab and up the stoop of my building to the front door. I feel my body moving as I turn the key in the lock and walk into my building and then make my way up the four flights of stairs but my mind is somewhere else. Eventually I find myself standing outside of the apartment I share with my two Best friends, Jasmine and Kara. Jas was my dorm mate junior year of college, a couple of hours after I had settled into the dorm I met Kara through her. The three of us have been glued to the hip since then.  What can I say? We just clicked. Peas in a pod and all that jazz. I pause for just a moment, thinking, Just thinking while I stare at ugly green paint on our door. It’s all chipped and peeling from years of wear. Bet that’s what my heart is starting to look like. Chipped and worn from years of wear and tear.           

                  I break myself out of my thoughts as I begin fumble, trying to find my keys in my hand bag. I lose my grip and the red clutch falls from my hand spilling it contents all over the dirty, broken tiles. I left out a frustrated, “Shit!” as I bend down to pick it all up and only then do I notice how badly my hands are shaking. What’s that saying? Shaking like a leaf? When have you ever seen a leaf shake?            

                Before I get everything together I hear the locks and bolts being undone and then watch as the door swings open to reveal a very unhappy looking Jasmine in her powder blue robe and matching slippers. I can see the annoyed look on her face and know that any second now she going to let me have it for making so much noise and interrupting her beauty sleep. But just at that same moment I can feel the tears pushing at the back of my eyes and by the change in her stance I know she can see. I stand up and she opens her mouth to question me but I beat her to it. “Tony…WE…I…its over.” And just as soon as the words are out of my mouth I truly and completely realize what has happened tonight, and every single emotion I have been trying to batter down I since I left Anthony on that sidewalk tonight hits me like a hurricane. My body jerks and shakes as I begin to sob and I can feel Jas wrapping her arms around me and slowly walking me into the apartment. The back of my mind barely registers the sound of her closing the door and throwing the locks and bolts back into place.

             Two years. Twenty-four Months. Seven Hundred and thirty Days. 17,530 hours. That’s how much of my life I had dedicated to Anthony Russo. But that’s all over now.

The Storm

She angrily ran away from the house, away from her parents, away from everything in the dark of the night. She ran and ran and ran, nonstop. Past the alley, and the Bakersfield’s home, she ran so far but it all went unnoticed by her. All she could hear about was the news her parents just told her. A divorce, they were getting a divorce. They were getting a divorce and her and her mom was moving out of the house, out of town, away from her father, her friends and everything she knew. How could they do this to her? She thought to herself. She felt so hurt and betrayed. A divorce?! She came to a screeching stop as her body finally gave in and collapsed, falling to the ground. Her body shook so hard as she sobbed, her hand tightened into fists and her knuckled slowly started to turn white from the force of it. She pounded the ground with her fist. She wanted to hit something, she wanted to hit anything. Slowly she started to calm down, realizing she had no idea where she was anymore. She looked around at her surroundings. The smell of damp ground assaulted her senses. There were trees everywhere, she must have run into the forests of the park nearby, but which way did she come from? She slowly stood, brushing the dirt from her clothes. Her nose began to burn from the ice cold air, turning read and angry. She wrapped her arms around herself needing some kind of warmth as she looked around puzzled. She had to find her way home, if only she knew. She sniffled gently and reached up wiping what was left of her tears away from her ice cold skin. Suddenly she felt another trickle, and then another. She furrowed her eyebrows as she realized these were tears. She looked upward and suddenly the heavens opened and the rain fell by the gallons. The cold water hurt her skin.  In that moment she felt so helpless. Suddenly the winds started blowing, making her frame shake. She had to get out of there. She started to walk, and slowly her walk became and jog and then a full on run. She pushed the branches out of her way, hisses as they scraped and starched her delicate skin. Her eyes couldn’t seem to focus, with the rain and wind everything in her eyesight seemed to be shaking violently. Suddenly her foot was caught in a root and she came stumbling down to the ground making her whole body feel like it had shattered like a piece of delicate glass. She wanted to give up and just lay there. Maybe someone would come along, maybe someone would find her. No, she thought to herself, she had to keep going, keep moving. So she did. She pushed herself up and with what strength she had left she ran. She had to get back. Get back home.

The Girl

David’s trash bin sat to the side of the room, isolated from everything else, so much like himself. Inside it was littered with things, many different things from his life. Like the Red Bull cans left over from his long nights of work. Join them were several bottles of water and an empty bottle of vitamins, as well as last weeks newspapers. He always liked to have read material for his downtime. One of his favorite things to do is to lie out in front of his fire place and read. His love of reading came second to his love of art. Crumbled up pieces of paper occupied plenty of space in the trash bin. His sketches, his “not good enough to ever see the light of day,” sketches. He would sit in this room, letting the dark devour him, and sketch. And then crumble it all up and throw it away. They were a part of him and he could never let anybody that close. There were sketches of animals and objects, dark violent skies and beautiful open fields.  But the bulk of his rejected sketches contained one thing. The girl. It was always the same beautiful, petite, blonde girl. The one that constantly filled his head, clouding his mind of anything else but herself.  There were sketched of just her with a sparkle of mischief in her eyes. Then there were some of the two of them, wrapped in a warm embrace, lying together post-coital with the most peaceful expressions on their faces.  The most intense was of her staring up at him and him doing the same, both with never-ending love shining from their eyes. Oh, how he must miss her.

The Blood In Her Veins

            The woman sat proudly with her small daughter in her lap as they watched the parade pass through the street of their small town. It brought a unique smile to her face as she watched her culture, their culture, be put proudly on display. It was a yearly event and sadly this would be the last for her and her family. Her husband had left to America many months to find work and now he was finally sending for the family. They would be leaving first thing in the morning. While she was glad that her family would have the opportunity for a great life in a great country, she was sad that her young daughter would miss out on growing up in a village with such pride and strong culture. She regrets that her daughter will not have the opportunity to have the wisdom of the elders in town to guide her and tell her stories of older times. Most likely growing up in America, she will assimilate with the rest of the population and with that will lose some of that pride and culture. But at least she will be there with the girl, to be a guiding influence and to remind her of whom she is and where she comes from. To remind her of the strong and ancient blood that runs through her veins. She will be there to tell the girl stories of her own childhood and stories of her homeland, history and fables. She will teach her to be proud of her heritage, because that is what makes her beautiful and strong. And one day, she has faith, that her daughter will make the trip back to their small village, their real home, and see it all for herself.