Jezebel

by K Larsen

  Jezebel clapped her hands together. The sound echoed in the room. “Brava, darling. I love it when you get riled up. You’re so feisty when you put that brain to work. I love a gal with spunk.” Her eyes sparkled.

  Annabelle smirked. “Are you always playing devil’s advocate?”

  “Do you really care?” Jezebel asked.

  Annabelle thought about it for a moment. She laughed. She didn’t care. Jezebel challenged her, made the dull flicker in her spark to life. “No,” she answered.

  Nodding, Jezebel changed the subject. “Mark was asking about you.”

  “What?” Annabelle squeaked as a warm swarm of butterflies came to life in her belly.

  “Mark was asking about you.”

  Annabelle rolled her eyes and leaned forward in her chair. “I heard you,” she clarified. “What did he ask?”

  “Oh, this and that,” Jezebel answered flippantly.

  “Jez! Come on.”

  “He asked what you were like, how old you were and other drab questions.” Jezebel waved her hand in the air as if swatting away a pesky fly.

  Annabelle, on the edge of her seat, could not tolerate Jezebel’s lax attitude. This was a big deal. “Are you going to give me details or just leave me hanging like it doesn’t matter?”

  Jezebel laughed loudly. “You like him.”

  “I thought we established that when I all but drooled and stuttered around him. Don’t think I didn’t know it was you who stole my wallet.” She speared Jezebel with a pointed look.

  “I thought it was a rather brilliant move,” Jezebel smirked. Annabelle widened her eyes and said nothing. She waited Jezebel out. Silence sat heavy between them.

  “Alright, alright! I told him you were a lovely young woman nearing graduation and that he’d better be nothing short of a gentleman to you.”

  Annabelle smiled, shaking her head at her friend. “How you manage to answer everything without giving up any real information is a mystery.” She rose, taking her bag with her and slinging it over her shoulder. “I’ll see you next week.”

  Annabelle ambled slowly down the corridor toward the entrance hoping to see Mark. As she checked out with reception she heard her name called. Spinning around toward the sound she smiled as Mark skidded to a stop a few feet from her.

  “Hey,” he said. He wore a half-smile that made him look dopey, but adorable.

  “Hi.” She adjusted her bag strap on her shoulder.

  “I know you take the bus, but, I’m done in like, five, and I thought I’d offer you a ride home,” he rushed his words. “It’s probably quicker than the bus.”

  Annabelle wanted to accept. “I’m not really supposed to,” she said instead.

  “Supposed to what?” he asked.

  “Supposed to . . .” her words faded. Was getting a ride home against her parents’ rule? It was a gray area, they’d never really discussed it. Mark’s eyes burned bright with hope and it melted her. She wanted to get to know him. “You know what, sure. I’d love a ride.” Impossibly, his grin grew.

  “’Kay, give me five.” He turned, his sneakers squeaking on the floor, and disappeared into the employee room.

  Annabelle plopped down into one of the reception area chairs while she waited, an insistent flutter residing in her belly. She jammed her hand into the largest outside pocket and fished out her tinted lip balm. It was all she had on her and it would have to do.

  Mark emerged from the employee break room quickly. She stood and smiled shyly. “So, you ready?” he asked.

  “Yup.” What was it with her and that response? She wanted to plant her palm firmly to her forehead, but refrained. Mark led them to a jacked-up truck in the parking lot.

  “This is . . . large,” she commented. Mark laughed. It was boisterous and confident.

  “Yeah. It is.” Planting a foot on the chrome foot rail he tugged her door open for her.

  “Need help getting in?”

  “I think I got it,” she said, stepping onto the running board. She hoisted herself into the passenger seat and blushed. That wasn’t the most graceful maneuver. Mark closed her door and jogged around the front of the truck to his side.

  “So, first, where am I going and second, tell me about yourself,” he said.

  Annabelle gave him her address. He nodded and started the truck.

  “Why are you doing that?” he asked as he put the truck in reverse.

  She strapped on her seat belt, confused. “Doing what?”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Sitting against the door as far away from me as possible. I don’t bite.” He grinned as she blushed. She looked to her right. Annabelle grimaced, unnerved. Yep, she had wedged herself against the door. Immediately, she slid over a few inches, forcing herself to relax. Annabelle pulled the elastic band from her ponytail and shook her hair free. It fell past her shoulders in wavy strands. She ran her fingers through it and twisted in her seat, trying to appear comfortable and at ease. Mostly, she tried to keep her eyes off of Mark and on anything else. She concentrated on the scenery out the window. At the speed he was going, the sky and the trees melted into each other.

  “I’m not sure what you want to know,” she finally said.

  “Anything is a good start.”

  “How old are you?” she asked.

  Mark cocked his head to the side. “I’m twenty, but I feel like that says nothing about you,” he joked. Annabelle blushed, again. Yes she was keeping count. How was it that he made her feel screwed up tight with nerves without doing anything at all?

  “I’m eighteen. A senior at Walsh. I don’t know what to tell you that Jezebel hasn’t.”

  Mark smiled. “You’re cute. How ‘bout this, I’ll ask questions and you answer.”

  Annabelle nodded. “Sounds easy enough.”

  “What’s your favorite color?”

  “Gray,” she answered without hesitation.

  “No one likes gray,” he chuckled and shot her a look from the corner of his eye.

  “Someone does.”

  Mark tried to hide his amused expression but Annabelle caught it. “Okay, what’s your favorite restaurant?” he asked.

  “Walters. Best eggplant parm in three towns,” she gushed. She hadn’t been in ages but years ago her family had gone once a week for family dinner night out. She’d always loved it there.

  “Eggplant parm, huh? You vegetarian?” he asked, eyes cutting to hers.

  “No,” she shook her head. “If you’d had it, you’d understand my sentiment.”

  “How about I try it with you, Friday,” he stated boldly. She thought she noticed the barest hint of nervousness in his voice though.

  Annabelle sighed. “I can’t.”

  Mark snapped his eyes to hers. “Please don’t be one of those chicks who says ‘I don’t date.’”

  “Har, har, no . . . I’d love to, but I’m grounded until I leave for college in August. I literally can’t date.” She tilted her head to the side and her unruly dark hair fell over her forehead, veiling her eyes.

  “Oh,” he said, brows knit together. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

  Annabelle laughed. “Yeah.”

  “You’re eighteen and grounded,” he stated.

  “That’s accurate.”

  “So what’d you do?” he asked. His candor surprised her.

  Annabelle looked out the window. “I’d rather not get into that.”

  “Well, how am I supposed to wait until August to take you out?” He flashed a friendly smile, his dimples popping.

  Annabelle flushed and bit her lip to keep from blurting out something ridiculous. His question caught her off guard. After a moment she finally spoke. “Why would you wait?”

  “I hear you and Jezebel talking. I see you, all smiles and stuff when you’re with her. Jezebel’s a good shit. Spunky and funny and, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re hot. I’d want to ask you out for that alone.” He cringed at his own words. “But knowing that you also have substance makes me curiou
s.”

  “Substance?” She turned to meet his gaze.

  “You spend every Tuesday at Glenview, you sit with someone who’s not related to you for hours. It shows you’re a good person—that you’ve got a lot going on in there.” He pointed to her head. For a moment she felt guilty, like she was lying to him. What he said was true now—but that’s not how her time with Jezebel started out.

  “I think maybe you have the wrong perception of me. I go because I don’t have a choice. Meeting Jezebel was just lucky. Really lucky. If it wasn’t for her I’d be doomed to wear a hairnet and work in the kitchen.”

  Mark considered her for a moment as they pulled onto her street. “Well, I suppose you’d still look hot in a hairnet.”

  Annabelle chuckled. “You’re funny.”

  “You’re a puzzle,” he responded with a warmhearted smile. “One I’d like to put together.” Annabelle blushed—again.

  “Pull over here,” she said, not wanting him to stop at her house.

  If her mother was home, and saw, it could mean the end of rides with Mark. “Okay. Listen, I’m just going to shoot straight,” Annabelle started as he pulled to the side and put the truck in park. “I got in a bit of trouble. I’m serving six months of community service, which have turned out to be six months spent with Jezebel, so it isn’t so bad really. My parents also piled on their own punishment to my court-ordered one. No going out. No friends over. No phone and very limited laptop use. I’m rambling . . .” she stated flustered. “I guess what I’m trying to say is . . . I have no life right now. I’m happy you’re interested but, outside of possibly Facebooking you for an hour a night or seeing you Tuesdays at Glenview, I’m inaccessible,” she finished, and frowned.

  “Whoa. Ramble doesn’t seem like the right term . . . rant maybe,” he said. Annabelle leaned back in her seat and bit her lip. “I’m cool with that. I can give you a ride home Tuesdays—if you want, that is,” he finished.

  He reached out and took her hand in his. Annabelle noticed the warmth of his fingers on hers. His smell floating in the cab of the truck. The way his eyes held hers right then. She wasn’t sure how to deal with the scandalous thoughts her mind was throwing at her. Mark’s hair looked towel-dried and annoyingly attractive all messy, his face clean shaven, and the red T-shirt he wore not only accentuated his tanned arms but highlighted his muscular physique. She was suddenly and uncomfortably aware of the long, bare curve of his neck, his broad shoulders. She turned and smiled at him as her stomach dropped a few feet and landed somewhere in the vicinity of the floor. She pulled herself together as much as possible. Raising a perfectly plucked brow, she smiled and said, “I want.”

  ~***~

  Brant,

  Today I smiled at every single person I passed. I’m happy. I don’t even think my feet touch the ground when I walk. It’s just a dream and if I started to sing and dance, I wouldn’t be surprised if all the strangers I’ve smiled at join in as some sort of flash mob or something. I really like Mark. It’s not exactly rational since I barely know him. I’m sure you don’t want to hear this boy talk but I can’t help it. Mom has become one of those not-good-enough moms. She’s an imperfect, crap mother. And even that doesn’t bother me today. Intense ‘like’ has burrowed a deep hole into my heart.

  I want to coddle it, let it snuggle in. Do you think it’s weird that lately I think about other people’s lives and all the love they don’t have, the friends they don’t really connect with, the boring routines that make up their sad existences, the weight of the pressures that crush their spirits? That in those moments I realize how much I have and how precious it is? I’m going to stay happy. I’m going to. For you. For me. For everyone else.

  -Belle

  Annabelle and Jezebel were stretched out side by side on the bed together listening to old mix tapes Jezebel had requested her husband bring in. Annabelle lay there, eyes closed, music playing loudly, thinking about her Facebook messages with Mark throughout the last week. Duran Duran, the Cars, Phil Collins and Billy Joel were the strange soundtrack to her thoughts as they laid still and just listened. Annabelle knew many of the songs but there were also many that she wasn’t familiar with.

  A smile crept over her face as they lay shoulder to shoulder. Jezebel’s warm hand found hers, clutched it, and squeezed. Everything in that moment felt just right. She was exactly where she was supposed to be, with who she was supposed to be with. It was a liberating feeling.

  Her week had been bland. Madison missed three days of school because she was sick, her classes didn’t hold her interest and her parents, well . . . they were the same. Everything was horrifically quiet at the house as always. She’d cranked up her music. She’d smiled non-stop, she’d asked questions to prompt conversations with her parents who responded in the moment briefly before they slipped into their normal routines of discontent. Messaging Mark was the only real highlight of her days.

  “Do you like 10,000 Maniacs?” Jezebel said, cutting into her thoughts.

  “Sure,” she shrugged.

  Jezebel hopped off the bed and switched sides of the tape that was playing. When the familiar opening of a classic began, she smiled widely and spun around in a circle. Her hair lifted from her neck and blew in the breeze she created. Her lips were upturned and her eyes closed. Annabelle felt jealous. Jealous that she could just let go, feel a moment and enjoy it. She wanted that so badly. Annabelle yanked her elastic from her hair and resolved that she could have that and she would.

  Right now.

  “Dance party!” Annabelle cheered.

  She joined Jezebel, spinning and shaking and laughing as the song played. They swung their hair, shook their hips and danced. Jezebel took her hands and spun her out, then back in, she swayed them together and dipped Annabelle dramatically. She couldn’t catch her breath she was laughing so hard. It had been ages since she’d done anything so silly. When the song wound down Jezebel dimmed the volume and snuggled into her chair. Annabelle followed her lead.

  Breathless she tucked her legs under her and waited for Jezebel to take the lead. Moments passed in silence and Annabelle wondered if something was wrong. Jezebel stared at the flowers on her windowsill solemnly.

  “Jez?”

  “Yes?” Jezebel croaked and swiveled her head to meet her gaze.

  “Where were you?”

  Jezebel grinned but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “In the past.”

  “Tell me about it?” Annabelle hedged.

  “Not a chance kiddo. My past is a whole other story.” Jezebel winked and pulled her hair over one shoulder. “For now, we should stick to Celeste. Did you know that the song Jezebel is written from the perspective of a woman who has realized that she is no longer in love with her husband and wants to dissolve their marriage?”

  Annabelle stared at Jezebel a second and blinked before sucking in a deep breath. “Nope.”

  Jezebel sighed and nodded. “It was.”

  “Okay,” Annabelle said unsure where Jezebel was going with the conversation.

  “Oh never mind.” Jezebel waved her hand through the air. “Shall we get to it then?”

  “You mean Celeste’s story?” she asked. Jezebel nodded. “Yeah. Let’s.”

  “Paris, nineteen ninety-two,” Jezebel began, and Annabelle settled into her seat a little more.

  Chapter 24

  Celeste

  Paris 1992

  Hi Cece,

  How is my favorite lady? Things are going well here. The weather is just beautiful and there’s so much to do! We went apple picking, raspberry picking, picked pumpkins at the pumpkin farm, went on hayrides, you name it we did it. Love all the color and the kids have had a blast with all the leaf piles. I really miss you but am keeping busy taking care of the house and the family.

  Kids are all doing very well in daycare and are actually ahead of where they should be which is a relief! Molly just started talking. Matthew is doing soccer—it’s adorable, they all swarm the ball. We are all exc
ited awaiting the first snow which may happen on Saturday. I can’t wait to do some skiing. I hope you are doing great and enjoying your beautiful weather in Paris. Everything, including snow, is more magical there.

  Hope all is well with Gabriel and work! Please tell Matteo I send my love. Ok, enough of my rambling, I know you are busy. Take care and hope to hear from you soon.

  Your Favorite Lady, Mara

  Celeste smiled as she set the letter down on the counter. The last two years had brought many changes. Mara and Charles had moved to the States for Charles’ work. She missed her best friend dearly but it was what was best for their family. Matthew, their first born, was three now and Molly was pushing ten months. As their godmother, Celeste took her role seriously, spoiling them with gifts at every occasion she deemed appropriate.

  Gabriel and she had pushed through the roughest patches in their marriage and were, for the most part, back on track. For Gabriel, desire and logic had been two very separate things when coming to terms with not being able to have a child of his own. Of course, there were still bouts of disappointment and longing when it came to friends and co-workers having babies but they knew now how to get through it—together.

  Gabriel descended the stairs with heavy footsteps. He fiddled with his tie as he entered the kitchen. Ambling up to him she swatted his hand away from his tie. She handed him a mug of coffee and fixed his tie for him while he took that first glorious sip.

  “What would I do without you?” he asked. His eyes crinkled as he smiled appreciatively at her.

  “Indeed,” she answered with a smile. Gabriel leaned down and kissed her temple. She rested her head on his chest and sighed.

  “Will you be home tonight for dinner?”

  “Chances are slim, mon amour, we’re very close to working out the side effects finally.”

  “Congratulations love, it must feel good to be close to the finish line,” she offered, tamping down her disappointment.