COLOR OF LONELINESS
Madeleine Beckett
COLOR OF LONELINESS
Published by Madeleine Beckett at Smashwords
Copyright 2012 Madeleine Beckett
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever including Internet usage, without written permission of the author.
License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
The author published an earlier serialized version of this story online with different characters as Color of Loneliness under the pseudonym Exquisite Edward.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
BLACK, HEARTACHE
CHAPTER 2
YELLOW, INDECISION
CHAPTER 3
BROWN, REGRET
CHAPTER 4
ORANGE, FRUSTRATION
CHAPTER 5
PURPLE, ANXIETY
CHAPTER 6
SCARLET, ANGUISH
CHAPTER 7
IVORY, COMFORT
CHAPTER 8
GRAY, GRIEF
CHAPTER 9
LAVENDER, TENDERNESS
CHAPTER 10
MAGENTA, COMPASSION
CHAPTER 11
FUSCHIA, LONGING
CHAPTER 12
BISQUE, CONFUSION
CHAPTER 13
BEIGE, ALOOFNESS
CHAPTER 14
AQUAMARINE, WISTFULNESS
CHAPTER 15
EMERALD, JEALOUSY
CHAPTER 16
PINK, LUST
CHAPTER 17
BLUSH, AFFECTION
CHAPTER 18
CORAL, AWAKENINGS
CHAPTER 19
ASH, CLOSURE
CHAPTER 20
CRIMSON, PASSION
CHAPTER 21
RUSSET, APPREHENSION
CHAPTER 1
BLACK, HEARTACHE
The wind whips her long hair across her face, obstructing her view. She quickly pushes the annoying strands aside, revealing a furrowed brow and cheeks tinged pink from the frigid air.
With her black-gloved fingers, she quickly wipes at her eyes as a small sob escapes her lips. Hugging her coat tighter against her chest, she pulls up the collar against the icy air.
She stares down at the stones of her family. Kneeling, she gently sweeps the soft layer of snow away, uncovering words she hasn’t read in a few years. With a gloved fingertip, she softly traces the sunken letters on the tombstone, outlining the word Mother. Her movements are slow and deliberate, allowing her mind to drift...
To fifteen years ago. To a sick woman in a hospital bed who looked nothing like the beautiful mother she always knew. She couldn’t understand why her mother looked so pale, thin and sickly, and why her long, thick beautiful hair was gone.
Clutching her hands together, she bows her head, her shoulders shaking slightly as sobs tear from her chest. She grieves again like she has so many times before for the mother that was taken from her way too soon.
Slowly, she lifts her head, her swollen eyes gazing at the tombstones around her. There are so many of them. So many names and different ages. Just so much overwhelming loss.
She catches movement out of the corner of her eye. Quickly wiping her tears, she turns towards it to find a squirrel sitting on top of a headstone, holding a nut. He pauses and stares back at her. Her brows pull together as she watches him; he simply ignores her and goes back to eating. Another squirrel springs out of a tree, and they playfully chase each other, leaving tiny tracks in the snow.
She finds it strange that there still seems to be some life living among all this death.
Sniffling, she rubs lightly at her nose as her gaze moves back to the other half of the grave. With respect and tenderness, she gently removes the snow that covers her father’s tombstone.
Words begin sweeping through her.
Thief.
She wants them to stop.
Convenience store.
But they won’t.
Gunfire.
It hurts too much.
Blood.
She can’t stop the words. They won’t stop.
Death.
Inhaling a deep, shaky breath, the coldness burns her lungs. Standing, she steps back and looks to the right of her parent’s tombstones and down at the fresh pile of dirt. Her grandfather was buried just three days ago. Walking around the large mound, she leans down and wipes at the ground to reveal the headstone of her grandmother and more writing. As she reads the inscription, her lips curve up at the wonderful memories of her Grammie who took on the motherly role in her life after she lost hers.
Myra notices the pile of wilted flowers that rest on top of the mound of earth that now covers her Grampie. Reaching down, she picks up a rose. Its petals are dark and shriveled; nothing like the vibrant red they were just a few days ago. Clutching the crumpled rose to her chest, she stares at her family one more time before slipping it into her pocket and making her way slowly back to her car.
* * *
Myra folds her clothes and places them in the large suitcase that sits propped open on the bed in the spare bedroom of her Grampie’s house. She tugs on the zipper and glances around the room, making sure she’s not forgotten anything.
Dragging the heavy suitcase down the squeaky stairs, it bounces off of each worn, wooden step, the sounds echoing noisily around her.
When she gets to the front door, she reaches her hand out, but pulls back and pauses. Slowly turning, Myra stares at the familiar room behind her. She sees the green, thread-bare couch sagging in the middle. The brown leather recliner that has light-colored worn spots in the seat and on the arms. The bookshelves lined with so many tattered, loved and cherished books. The pictures lining the mantle over the fireplace. Pictures of a happy family that once existed. That once was.
Sighing, she pulls open the heavy door.
* * *
Myra’s phone rings. Keeping her eyes on the road, she struggles to get it out of the back pocket of her jeans. She frowns as she glances down at the unknown number. Shrugging, she flips it open.
“Hello?” she says, trying to juggle the phone and the steering wheel at the same time.
“Myra Sommers?” a male’s voice asks.
“Yes.”
The man rattles off his name in introduction. “I’m the attorney for your grandfather. It was my understanding that you didn’t want to be present for the reading of the will, is that correct?”
Her shoulders slump. “Yes.”
“Since you’re Mr. Sommers’ last heir, he left you the house and his personal property along with his remaining assets. There’s a small insurance policy and his retirement savings. Once the estate’s been settled and all costs have been deducted, I’ll forward a check to you along with the deed to the house. Do you have any questions?”
“No.”
“I’ll contact you once everything’s been settled. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks,” she mutters, closing her phone and throwing it on the passenger seat.
* * *
The wipers on Myra’s rental car make screechy sounds, causing her to cringe a little every time they swish by.
She has no idea what to do with Grampie’s old house. It’s in Nyssa, Oregon, in the middle of freaking nowhere. It’s rundown, and she knows she won’t be able to sell it.
And how can she even try to rent it when she’s going back to Philly?
She sighs heavily as she stares at the road ahead of her.
* * *
As the airplane takes off, Myra pensively stares out of the window, watching the mountains in the distance. The houses and buildings become smaller and smaller as the plane gains altitude, causing them to reduce to the size of tiny insects. In a way, she finds it fascinating. But more than anything, it makes her feel irrelevant, and adds to her deep-seated feelings of insignificance.
With a sigh, she tugs the window shade down and when her eyes begin drooping, she closes them and drifts off to sleep.
What seems like moments later, she startles awake when the sound of the captain announcing their arrival in Philadelphia blares over the intercom.
After picking up her suitcase in baggage claim, Myra drags the lumbersome thing behind her as she trudges through the covered parking garage to her car. After heaving it into her trunk, she sinks down into the front seat. A small smile appears on her lips as she looks at the creamy interior. Softly, her fingertips stroke the dashboard.
“Myra, come on, let’s see that diploma again,” Grampie says as he squeezes her tightly with the arm he has wrapped around her shoulders. She giggles as she passes it to him.
“I can’t believe my baby is a high school graduate. How did you grow up so fast? What the hell happened to my little girl?” her father, Jack, asks as he gently tugs on her hair.
“Dad,” she whines.
“He’s right, sweetheart,” Grampie says, patting her cheek softly. “I remember it like it was yesterday: you sitting on my lap and playing patty cake. Now look at you. You’ve grown up on us too quickly, young lady. Way too quickly.”
Myra grins and shakes her head.
“Your Grampie and I had a hard time coming up with a graduation gift for you, but we finally agreed on something. Here,” Jack says as he hands her a small, wrapped box.
“You didn’t have to…”
“Yes, we did, sweetie. Now open ‘er up,” Grampie says.
She smiles. “Okay.”
Carefully, she tears off the blue wrapping paper and gently lifts the lid. Her brows pull together when she sees a set of car keys nestled inside. She quickly looks up at her dad.
“It’s in the garage,” he announces with a huge smile on his face.
Myra bursts into the garage and finds a brand-new car with a small blue bow in the center of the hood.
“Oh my God,” she screams.
“Now the reliability and safety ratings on this model were extremely high. So this should do you good while you’re away at college in Philly,” Jack says.
“I can’t believe this. I don’t know what to say,” she says with tears in her eyes as she wraps him in a huge hug. “I love you, dad. This means the world to me.”
He smiles down at her, his face brimming with pride.
“And you…” she says, grinning, as she turns towards Grampie. “Thank you and I love you,” she gushes before she hugs and kisses him as well.
“You’re welcome. I love you, too, sweetheart.”
* * *
After pulling into the underground parking garage beneath her apartment building, Myra parks her beloved car in her assigned space.
Dragging the heavy suitcase into the elevator, she thankfully goes unnoticed by any of her neighbors as she quickly slips into her apartment. The red blinking light on her answering machine flashes at her from across the room, but she ignores it. After making a cup of coffee, she stands by the counter and takes a sip.
The red light continues to blink, her eyes catching sight of it in the periphery. Sighing, she finally walks across the room towards it. Her finger hovers over the flashing button for a moment before she finally presses play.
She erases the first message, which offers a free gym membership.
She hits erase again to get rid of the survey in the second message.
“Hey.”
She freezes as her breath catches in her throat.
“It’s me,” he says, sighing heavily. “I hate that you changed your phone numbers; you didn’t have to do that. I heard about Grampie. I wish you’d told me about it.”
He pauses.
“Myra, I’m so sorry.”
He clears his throat.
“God, this is hard. I know what he meant to you. I just want you to know that I’m here for you if you need to talk.”
While finishing her coffee, she hits the replay button over and over again listening to the message as it echoes repeatedly off the walls of her apartment.
* * *
As Myra steps off the subway, several people jostle her as they make a mad dash to get to work. Everyone seems to be in a hurry. Except for her. She walks at a slow, leisurely pace.
She doesn’t want to be early, but she couldn’t sleep last night. Picking up a coffee and a newspaper, she reads, occasionally glancing at her watch. Eventually, she tosses the paper and empty cup into the trash and walks the remaining short distance to her office with a bad feeling brewing in her stomach.
* * *
A couple of clicks on the computer and her email inbox pops up. She groans when she sees how many unread messages there are. Scanning the senders’ names, she quickly identifies the ones of most importance. Then Myra begins the odious task of plodding through them, reading, responding, and deleting.
“Hi.” The deep voice she doesn’t want to hear calls out from behind her, causing her heart to skip a beat. Closing her eyes, she takes in a deep breath before swiveling her chair around.
“Can we talk?” he asks as he takes a step inside her cubicle.
Glaring at him, she shakes her head.
“Please? Just for a minute.” He takes a step closer. Instinctively, she wraps her arms around her stomach.
“I have nothing to say to you,” she whispers as she glances around, hoping no one in the office can see them.
“I’m not leaving until you talk to me.” He steps closer, sitting down on the empty desk next to her computer, crossing his arms over his large chest.
She chews on her fingernail as she debates what to do. “Fine. Where?”
“The conference room,” he says with a satisfied look on his face. As she follows him down the hallway, she furtively glances around the crowded office. Every set of curious eyes she makes contact with causes her chest to ache.
After closing the door behind her, Trent sighs and turns, facing her. She clenches her hands into fists at her side. “How did you get my phone number?” she demands before he can say a word.
“I bribed Lori in HR for it. Sorry about that. But she wouldn’t give me your cell.”
“You know that’s against the law, right?” Myra says her eyes narrowed.
He shrugs. “You gave me no choice. I needed to talk to you.”
Myra backs up when he takes a step closer. “How are you?” he asks in a gentle voice.
“Stay right where you are. I’m fine, thank you,” she says through gritted teeth. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“It’s me, remember? I know how you’re feeling. I know what Grampie meant to you.” The tenderness in his voice makes Myra’s stomach roll.
“You don’t know how I feel. And my problems don’t concern you anymore. You lost that right when you cheated on me.”
“I never cheated. Always remember that. I wasn’t with her until after we broke up.”
“You did cheat. You cheated with your heart. And to me that’s a million times worse.”
“I’m sorry.”
Myra stares at him, not speaking, and definitely not accepting his apology.
“We need to talk. I just, I wish I could do things over. I wish things could be different between us. I hate this. You know that I still care for you deeply, right?”
“It doesn’t matter. I need to get back to work.” She walks past him and grabs the doorknob.
“Myra, please,” he begs, pushing his hand
against the back of the door, keeping it closed. “I have things I need to talk to you about.”
“Let me out,” she pleads, tugging on the handle as her heart pounds. He raises an eyebrow and slowly removes his hand. Exhaling, she makes her way down the hallway, her eyes downcast, wishing no one could see her. Wishing she was far away from this place. Sitting back down at her desk, she swallows the lump in her throat and tries hard not to break down.
* * *
“Honey, it’s been boring as shit on a hot rock around here without you.” Myra hears a chipper voice behind her causing her to smile.
“Hey,” she says as she pushes away from her desk and stands to give her best friend, Susie, a hug.
“I missed you. How was the funeral?” Susie asks as she leans against Myra’s desk and starts to unwrap a candy bar.
“I survived.”
“Sorry I couldn’t go. I still can’t believe El Numero Uno Dickhead wouldn’t let me off work,” Susie says in a low voice as she glances around the office. “Who the crapola cares that he needed coverage for the holidays?” she says with a sneer. “I’ve made sure to do jackshit around here while you were gone just to prove to that asstard that he could’ve let me off.”
“It’s okay.”
“Do you need anything? Want me to come over tonight? We could watch a movie or something. Jeff can take care of the kids because you know that man always owes me for something. And I can bring lots of food so we could just veg out and chow down,” Susie says before taking a huge bite of her candy bar.
“No, I’m fine. Really. But thanks,” Myra says with a weak smile.
Susie quickly chews her bite. “You sure? You don’t look fine. You look like you’ve lost a few pounds,” she says as she waves her candy bar at her. “What are you now a size 0 or a negative 2? You want some of my candy bar?”
“No,” Myra says with a chuckle.
“Good, because I don’t feel like sharing,” Susie says as she takes another huge bite.
Myra takes in a deep breath. “I’m trying. I really am.”
“I need to fatten you up. How about I let you borrow a couple of these giant fat rolls that I have crammed under this miserable, tight-as-hell skirt I’m wearing,” she says as she pinches a chunk of fat around her middle and grins widely. “You know how I’m all about sharing the love.”
Color of Loneliness Page 1
