'Til Death Do Us Part

[chanaud]

I, Jocelyn Anne Murray, take thee, Sebastian Brian Dowd,
To be my lawfully wedded husband,
Secure in the knowledge that you will be
My constant friend,
My faithful partner in life,
And my one true love.

And on this special day,
I give to you
In the presence of God and all these witnesses
My sacred promise to stay by your side as your faithful wife
In sickness and in health
In joy and in sorrow, as well as
Through the good times and the bad.

I further promise to love you without reservation,
Comfort you in times of distress,
Encourage you to achieve all of your goals,
Laugh with you and cry with you,
Grow with you in mind and spirit,
Always be open and honest with you,
And cherish you till death do us part.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Exactly 10 Years Later

August 5th. August 5th. Why does the date stand out? Do I have an important appointment?

The date flashed through my head at the sound of the screeching alarm clock. August 5th. I jumped out of bed immediately, and traipsed across the cool wooden floor to my black leather briefcase. I pulled out my matching appointment book, and immediately opened to the open page with today’s date. It was blank. That’s odd! I shrugged the nagging voice off. If it were important, I would have marked it in my ever so reliable book.

A loud snore attracted my attention. Seeing my husband on his stomach, his head towards me, and snoring away made me roll my eyes. Upon closer examination, I noticed a wet spot on his pillow. I had to shake my head in disgust. He was drooling again. Another loud snore shook the room. Then another disgusting sound came from his lower body. Only when I saw the smile of relief did I realize what the sound was and where it came from. I bolted towards the bathroom before the pungent scent of gas reached me.

After I took my extra long shower, I dried off and stared at myself in the shower. To my relief, I inherited my baby face complexion from my mother. It shone brilliantly from the hot shower and careful apricot scrub. My waist was still narrow. When I turned sideways, there was a slight womanly pouch. I sucked my stomach in until it disappeared. Then I released it and made it bigger. For a brief moment, I wondered that is what I would look like if I were pregnant. I shuddered at the thought. This was not the moment to be pregnant. My business is just taking off, and Sebastian hasn’t sold a book yet. Not that I have anything to worry about. We haven’t had sex in……oh hell, I can’t remember when we last had sex.

“Are you finished? I have to meet my publisher at 9.”

“Nope, not yet.”

For some reason, the sound of his tone annoyed me.

“I haven’t showered yet.”

I had to smile at my deception as I stepped into the marbled shower stall for my second shower this morning.


OOC: All roles have been casted. If you can think of a character to fit into this dark comedy, PM me. Meanwhile, hope you enjoy!

 

[BigDawg69]

The sound of running water stirred me from my sleep. Blinking my eyes slowly, my body still recovering from its slumber I could feel a release of gas as I rolled to my side. I took evil enjoyment from the knowledge that would anger Jocelyn. I allowed myself a wicked grin. I also remembered a day when that would be cause for great laughter in our home. No more.

I slowly got up from the bed looking at the spot where Jocelyn had spent her night. Begrudgingly I stood and plodded to the bathroom. Steam poured from the shower as she stepped out a towel wrapped around her.

“Are you finished yet? I have to meet my publisher a 9.” I grunted out as she stood most of her out of sight.

“Nope not yet.” Her reply was curt.

With a heavy sigh I grabbed a towel and strolled off toward the guest bathroom. I’m not sure why I even try anymore; most of my razor, soap and stuff lives in that bathroom anyway. As I got to the room I took great pleasure in flushing the toilet unnecessarily and hearing a scream from across the house.

Stepping into the shower I had a nagging feeling that there was something more to this day than meeting my cranky publisher. I had to put whatever it was from my mind, this morning was important. If I could convince Sal to give me one more week I could have the novel polished and ready for print.

As I stepped from the shower and looked into the mirror, I could still see the bags under my eyes from a night spent staring at the computer screen. The words and letters from my ending, the fourth version in the last 36 hours, still etched into my vision. As I began to scrape the night’s fuzz from my face, I remembered the long lean leg of Jocelyn from earlier. She was very beautiful.

I finished in the bathroom and plodded back through the house, stopping to fill my coffee mug and take a couple sips. I placed a bagel in the toaster and headed off to our bedroom to dress. As I walked in I could see Jocelyn pulling up her thigh highs in the vanity mirror. She had her back to me and her round bottom looked wonderful slightly covered by her black panties.

“I'm taking the car today, you have to take the truck.” She called out as she disappeared around the corner to get her dress.

I shook my head; the sound of her barking deflated me fully. “Whatever.” I grunted as I propped myself on her side of the bed.

“Hey you’re getting my side of the bed wet!” She barked as she came out of the closet buttoning her blouse.

I shrugged as I wandered past her to the closet.

“Damn it I’m late. See you tonight.” She said rushing from the room.

I followed her part way watching as she pulled her shoes on and grabbed her bag. My mouth dropped open as she grabbed my bagels from the toaster and headed for the door.

“Hey wait!” I called to her. She stopped and turned to me.

“What?” She gasped at me, frustrated.

“Nothing.” I sighed and turned back into the bedroom. I heard the car start and the garage door open. I counted slowly down from five and waited as she pulled into the street.

HONK! HONK!

She’s just discovered the car is out of gas. I smiled and waved out the window as she sped off.

 

[chanaud]

Jocelyn Dowd

I snickered at the thought of stealing the car from him. I knew Sebastian hates to drive the truck when he has a meeting with his publisher. Makes him look poor, he claimed. Low class. I remember a time when we were poor, and we were happy. We drank cheap beer from the can, and sailed our weekends away. Now, we only drink imported beer or vintage wine. How sad that we’ve become what we scoffed at back then.

My mind rambled until I felt a tiny flutter in the car. I stepped on the gas and felt the Volvo hesitate. A panic filled me. The car just came out of the garage. It cost $300.00 and all I wanted was an oil change. Dammit! Don’t let this car stall in the middle of this busy road. Pleeeeeease keep going…

When the car purred along, a sigh of relief settled in me. A green and gray sign attracted my attention away from the morning traffic. Without second thought, I turned the car for my morning caffeine fix.

Aahhhhhhhhh… My first morning sip woke me immediately. Already, I felt alert and ready to start my day.

Juggling the Venti Verona with one hand, I looked in my rearview mirror and saw a clear road. I backed out. The loud impact blended with my scream. Coffee spilled all over the front of my light blue skirt.

I looked in the rearview mirror again. Behind me was a silver Jaquar. A tall powerfully built man in a black pinstripe was walking towards me. His chiseled face had a look of annoyance.

I sank lower into my seat. No wonder I had a nagging feeling about today before my shower. When he reached my car, he tapped on the window. I pressed the automatic window button and spoke into his silk yellow power tie.

“I…I…I…I’m sorry. I didn’t see you…”

 

[BigDawg69]

Satisfied with myself I finished getting ready to meet Sal. He was a fatherly type guy, who at least at one time really believed in my work. Of course at one time a lot of people really believed in craft and ability to sculpt with words. Including myself. That was two chapters and a few months ago. As I poured my cup of coffee for the road (Sal hates it when I’m late, which I always am) I thought about what had happened to my writing.

Getting to the truck and pulling out of the driveway I held the image of a younger Jocelyn radiant in her nightie standing on the front porch waving younger bright eyed me off to my first meeting with Sal. That was 3 best sellers and a Pulitzer ago. Now on my fourth book I struggled more than I ever did, even than writing the 1000 word short stories for Mrs. Munns in high school!

We had grown up and grown apart. She was famously successful and driven woman. All the qualities that made her irresistible those years ago now drive her from me and me from her. She had grown up, and I couldn’t. Not yet anyway. I laughed aloud in the truck as I remembered the bright red socks with little blinky lights I wore to the Pulitzer ceremony! How that had pissed her off!

I pulled into a spot and walked slowly, empty handed to Sal’s office. He occupied a small office near the top of a giant publishing house. His rise to the corner office had been partly on my shoulders, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to write. I wish I could again.

“You have a disk in your pocket right?” Sal bellowed from behind the cracked door as I approached his secretary. “Goddamn it Sebby tell me you have a disc!”

Sebby Only three people have ever called me that, my mom, grandfather and Sal. Jocelyn wouldn’t even use the nickname in our younger crazier years. I should have seen that sign.

I walked slowly past his secretary winking at her. She responded with a roll of her eyes as she answered the ringing phone. I stepped into Sal’s office only to discover he was not alone. A stunning young woman sat in one of his large leather chairs looking a might bit frightened.

“Easy Sal, you’ll blow a vessel.” I quipped winking a big smile at the woman.

“Blow a vessel? Blow a vessel? I’ll blow something if you don’t finish that God damned book!” Sal stood up and bellowed at me. He had completely forgotten about his other client. “Marketing is going to completely explode the whole floor will disintegrate if we, no YOU miss the deadline!”

“Hi, my name is Sebastian Dowd.” I said calmly to the young woman holding out my hand to her.

She tentively took my hand and shook it. I held on to her gentle touch for a moment and subtlely helped to stand from the chair. “Perhaps you should wait outside, dear. This could be ugly.” I said trying to soothe her frayed nerves.

She smiled meekly at me and glanced to the red faced Sal as she backed from the room. Once she closed the door behind her I turned to Sal. “A bit young for you isn’t she Sal?” I quipped.

“She’s a new hot poet from the Village. Got a tip from a friend I should check her out. Don’t know, not sure I see the potential there.” Sal said as he watched the door close, then turned his stare to me. “What the FUCK! Sebby, I need a book!”

“I know Sal. I’m trying I can’t get the ending. The last two chapters are shit.” I slumped into a large wing back leather chair.

“The last two chapters? But that’s your best work in the last two chapters? Hell in the last book you had half the women in America crying through their orgasms as they read your words. That romantic shit is your touchstone!” Sal sat across from me. His rage began to subside into fear and worry. “Sebby, buddy your last two chapters were always the icing the easiest bit.”

“I know Sal. It’s just not there anymore.” I deflated.

“Goddamnit. Alright, what’s it gonna take. Do you need to get laid? I have a buddy on the 23rd who knows a guy and he can . . . what the fuck am I saying. You are Sebastian Dowd; there are women all over this country that would do anything to get you!”

“This is not helping Sal.”

“Right. Well I don’t know what you need, but you better find it. This deadline is firm. Marketing went to print with a print date this morning. Full page ad in the Times, the Post and the Journal. Finish the fucking book!” Sal lost the anger and replaced it with determination. “If you don’t I will!” He cracked a wry smile.

I heaved a sigh and nodded my head. Slowly I got up to leave as I got to the door Sal spoke. “Tell the poet to reschedule on your way out please.” I nodded and slowly walked out of his office.

 

[soliloquy]

Mara Vaughan

Mara clutched the leatherbound portfolio in her lap in an effort to not chew on her nails. Dear lord, why didn't she bring some gum with her? Sal talked at her more than to her, obviously condescending to the young woman. She hated the commerciality of "selling" her poetry, but one couldn't live on the page. There was a real world out there eating up the little bit she made watressing at The Tavern.

Sal's bellow made her jump, and she nearly lost hold of her portfolio. Setting it on the table, she followed his eyes to the door. There, appeared a very attractive man. He breezed through as if he hadn't a care in the world, in spite of the fact that his publisher was irate. She marveled at his calm manner as he introduced himself and smoothly led her out of the potentially explosive situation.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Mara rifled through her purse for the crackers she kept on hand for such moments. She sat and unwrapped them and began to chew nervously. The secretary smiled at her, and Mara smiled back tentatively. The secretary quickly looked away, obviously suppressing a chuckle.

Brushing the crumbs from her portfolio absentmindedly, she realized that in her diffidence, she had failed to introduce herself to the man who had interrupted her meeting. Then it struck her hard in the chest. He was Sebastian Dowd. Award winning, Sebastian Dowd. And she had fumbled through the introduction like a mute child.

Her stomach sank, and she grabbed into her purse for some Tums. Just as her hands wrapped around the small container, the door opened, causing her to jump slightly. Sebastian Dowd swept through the door as if his feet barely touched the ground. He smiled charmingly, and she rose.

"Sal said that you should reschedule your meeting."

Her eyes widened like a helpless fawn. Reschedule? She needed this meeting. She simply nodded and began to walk towards the doors.

"Miss?"

She spun around at the sound of his voice and stumbled. She felt herself losing her footing and she began to fall towards the ground. Strong arms stopped her tumble. Sebastian Dowd's arms. She flushed bright red.

"I'm sorry..." she said, lamely.

He helped her upright and smiled. "So the poet speaks."

She blushed even more furiously.

"Shouldn't you reschedule your appointment?" He winked conspiratorially.

Add insult to injury, Mara thought. She mumbled some agreement and walked to the secretary's desk.

"I need to reschedule my appointment."

"Mara Vaughan, right?"

"Yes." The secretary scribbled down an appointment time and Mara grabbed it. She walked quickly to the doors. The quicker she could get out of the building, the sooner she could reflect on what an incredible fool she had been in private.

Sebastian's voice rang out behind her. "It was nice to meet you, Mara Vaughan!" She thought she even heard him chuckle.

 

[ariosto]

"Fuck." He said.

*Oh Christ!*She thought, this would NOT be pleasent at all.

"I didn't see you...my rearview was clear!"

The man leaned down, his face was tanned and rugged, he wore wire rim glasses, his hair was black and shot through with gray. He reminded her of Gregory Peck in 'To Kill a Mocking Bird'
Jocelyn slumped down in the seat and sighed.

He thought she was the best loooking thing he'd seen this morning and he'd been watching the CNN anchorwomen.
Nice knees.

"Are you hurt?"
His voice was low and even.
"I don't think there's much damage to your car...or mine."
A loud crash interrupted him as a bent hubcap fell from the Jag and rolled into the street.

"Oh hell Mister I'm sorry!"
Jocelyn craned her neck to look out the window.

He stepped back and smiled.

"I think you may need an attorny afterall."
She looked at him in alarm.
"A lot of property damage here...my hubcap...your dress."

She noticed now that her skirt was plastered to her thighs with luke warm coffee. She blushed.

"Here", he said, "Please allow me to introduce myself."

Michael S. Stone
Attorney
Specialising in Divorce and Personal Injury Cases

877 9850

 

[chanaud]

Jocelyn Dowd

I couldn’t stop smiling at this older version of Clark Kent. My eyelashes batted uncontrollably as I took his business cards and glanced at it.

Attorney at law. Oh my! He’ll come in handy. One day.

“Oh, why thank you. I will be sure to keep your card on file. Who knows when I’ll need you. Ermmmm…I mean….when I’ll hit someone else. Oh. I mean…well, you know.. accidents do happen. Not that I plan on being in an accident soon. Or ever! Uummm…Here let me give you my business just in case you need me. Ermmm…I mean in case you find hidden damages.”

Whew! I hope I didn’t sound like an idiot! Through the reflection of his wire rims, I noticed my eyelashes haven’t stopped fluttering.

“Jocelyn Dowd. Hhmmm…that name sounds familiar. Wait. Is your husband Sebastian Dowd? The Sebastian Dowd? The author Sebastian Dowd?”

I turned abruptly to start the engine. Whiiirrrrrr….Whirrrrrrrrrr…. My foot pumped the gas pedal several times.

“Yesss. My husband is THE Sebastian Dowd. I am his wife.”

Whiirrrrrrrr….Whirrrrrrrrr…. Pump Pump Pump

Fuck! Why won’t this car start???

Whirrrrrrrr….Whirrrrrrr….Whirrrrrrr

“Ermmm…Jocelyn?”

“What???”

“It seems you’re out of fuel.”

That’s when I lost it. My eyes released a waterfall and streamed down my face. Black circles formed under making me look like a football player.

 

[BigDawg69]

The elusive and yet alluring poet slipped toward the doors and out of the building. I watched her leave, completely captured by her presence. With a sigh I turned to Sal’s secretary and smiled.

“The Tavern, she’s a waitress down there.” Came a curt response to a question I didn’t have to ask.

“Ahh how did you know I was looking for a place for lunch?” I brimmed at the sexy lady.

She looked up from her long red fingernails, which she was buffing, and winked a wry smile at me. “Sebastian Dowd, I can see in your eyes when you look at her, what I’ve always wanted to see when you look at me.” She eyed me directly for a moment and then looked back down to her slender fingers.

“Uh . . .” I was struck for a moment, “Well, that’s a pretty good line. Mind if I use it?”

“Please.” She said without looking up.

“Have a good day.” I offered as I headed for the door.

The traffic was horrible as I made my way to the tavern. My mind was filled with the image of the poet and her portfolio. For the first time in a long time I was not consumed by the horror of finishing my book, or the latest round in the ring with Jocelyn. The young poet’s eyes were so full of life; the bright depth’s could be seen in her whole face. I was at once taken with her, and wanted, no needed to know more.

I finally made my way into The Tavern. It was a smallish pub that offered mediocre Irish food, but had a legendary nightlife. I had passed it many times in my treks to Sal’s office, but never actually stopped in. The interior was dark, heavy wood beams hung low from the ceiling and clearly the lunch crowd was no crowd at all.

I found my way to a dark booth in the corner and waited patiently. From my seat I watched the barkeep and one of the waitresses flirt more than work. That’s when Mara captured my attention. She swept into the pub . . . well not really. She rushed into the pub. She had changed into a long black skirt and nice white button down shirt. Her hair was pulled up, somewhat. She was clearly late and in a hurry.

“You’ve got a customer, Mara.” The other waitress tore herself from the bartender long enough to gesture in my direction. Her words dripped with the thick attitude found uniquely in a Brooklyn accent. The abusive pronunciation of Mara’s poetic name as “May rah” screeched like nails on a chalkboard.

Mara turned a looked in my direction as she grabbed an apron and tied it around her waist. She did not look at the other waitress, but slowly walked toward my table. She attempted to fix her hair as she made her way across the restaurant. As she got closer, it became clear to me that she did not yet know who was her fist customer of the day.

 

[soliloquy]

Mara hurried into the bar, fastening the top button of her blouse. She threw her purse hurriedly behind the bar and grabbed up an apron and an order tablet. Frankie and Samuel were flirting, and Mara had just begun to relax into the idea that business was slow when Frankie's abrasive voice reached out to her. "You've got a customer May-rah."

Mara cringed at the blatant mispronunciation, and fumed at Frankie's laziness. Who knew how long this customer had been waiting? Mara hurried over to the table, and with barely a glance at the customer, went into her spiel.

"Welcome to the Tavern where the ale is cool and the food is hot. Prepared just like you want it. Are you ready to order?" She had uttered those words so many times that it always came out recited and rehearsed.

"I need a couple of more minutes, Mara."

"Okay, I'll come back in a minute."

Mara walked back to the bar and fixed herself a glass of ice water along with one for the customer. Frankie piped up. "Where's your nametag?"

Mara glanced down at her white blouse. Sure enough, she had forgotten to pin it on. She began rifling through her purse when realization hit her.

I need a couple of more minutes, Mara.

She hadn't been wearing her nametag! His face flashed before her eyes. It couldn't be!

She peeked around the wooden railing timidly. It was. Sebastian Dowd. Twice. In one day. And she, like a fool, hadn't even acknowledged that she had met him.

Nervously, she wiped her hands on her apron, and grabbed an Altoid out of her purse, which she popped in her mouth. Letting out a nervous sigh, she made her way to the table yet again.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Dowd. Y-you must think me incredibly...well..." She was bumbling around again. She chewed on her nail absently. "Well, I guess, I'm just sorry." He had looked up at her with a smile that could send any woman's heart into arrest and could set her loins afire. She coughed. "Can I take your order now?"

She sounded as humiliated and nervous as she felt.

 

[BigDawg69]

I looked up at her as she bumbled about. I could see in her eyes a depth of feel that this nervousness did little mask. I smiled at her in an attempt to calm her nerves, but it only served to wreck her train of thought.

"A glass of tea and a poem would be great." I spoke softly and quickly.

She looked down at her pad, scribbled and then paused. Slowly, leading with her eyes she looked up at me. A smile slid gracefully across her face; her cheeks flushed slightly with crimson.

"Sal told me you were a poet. I would love to read your work." I spoke calmly.

She looked straight through my eyes. It was as if she was looking into my soul. And with that looked she turned the tables, now I felt nervous and scared. Adjusting on the bench I smiled up at her. She spoke not a word, but turned and walked away rather briskly.

I did not know what to think. I sat calmly and watched her as she poured a glass of tea and sat it on the end of the bar. I saw her take her apron off and toss it on the floor near the bartender. She bent over picked up her bag and grabbed the tea as she walked back to my table.

Setting the tea in front of me she slid into the seat across the table from me.

"Do you really want to read my work?" She smiled at me. Her nervousness now replaced with excitement.

I looked her in her eyes. "I most certainly do."

Her smile broadened as I spoke. "I don't have any with me. But if you want you can come back to my apartment?"

Suddenly a lump formed in my throat. Going to the precious young woman's apartment. Did I really intend on taking this that far? I shook my head slightly and smiled. Just going to read her work, Sebastian. That's all.

"I would love to."

 

[soliloquy]

Where in the hell had she gotten the courage to do this? Mara didn't know, but she was leading him with excitement to her apartment. To see her work, yes. Just to see her work.

They climbed the three flights of stairs to her apartment, and she fumbled with the key. She laughed nervously. Throwing open her door, she turned to him. "Please excuse the mess." She wasn't a dirty person, but her place was strewn with papers, and wadded up balls of bad poetry. She was suddenly embarrassed of her eclectic apartment with its sparse decorations. For the first time, she felt that the old television set she turned into a terrarium was silly. She was terribly afraid he would see her as a flake just by looking at her decor.

"Have a seat on the couch and I'll get you that tea."

She scurried through the beaded curtain that separated her living room from her kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. Breathe, Mara, you're being a fool. But Sebastian had an effect on her that excited her and confused.

"Do you like sugar in your tea?"

Her voice rang out louder than she had intended. What in the world was she doing?

 

[BigDawg69]

Sebastian sat on the edge of her couch taking in the strange yet alluring decor of her apartment. He felt strangely nervous as he pondered his new surroundings.

"Do you like sugar in your tea?" she asked from behind the beads.

"Yes please that would be great. Just one spoon full is fine." Sebastian spoke plainly.

His eyes fell onto the TV turned terrarium and a soft smile lifted across his face. He remembered how mad his college roommate had been when Sebastian had turned the dorm TV into a fish bowl.

Mara came back through the bead with a small tray that held a couple mugs. She sat it on the small coffee table in front of Sebastian. As she bent over and placed the tray down her head turned and looked at Sebastian.

Sebastian felt a lump grow in his throat as her face passed so close to his. She had the face of a china doll, her eyes had the depth of the ocean. He felt an urge to lean forward suddenly and kiss her.

He did lean forward, but to pick-up his cup. As their faces passed even closer, Sebastian caught a glimpse of her lovely smell. His nostrils filled with her, and his smile grew.

Mara stood quickly, her face flushed. She turned and moved back toward a table by the window. She fumbled through some papers, and spoke not a word. Sebastian turned on the couch and took in her long form for a moment.

He stood and walked over to her. Placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, she jumped at his touch.

"Consider me a curious fan, Mara. There is no need to be nervous." Sebastian said with a calming tone.

Mara turned to look at him. Standing there mere inches apart, she held a sheet of paper in front of her. Her eyes looked up at Sebastian and they exchanged a smile.