A Woman Ignored (A Woman Lost Book 2)

by T. B. Markinson

  “Wow. I don’t know whether I should be impressed or check to see if you have a fever,” Sarah teased. “Have you considered veganism?”

  I had to laugh. “Don’t push your luck. Buying organic will be a huge step for me.”

  “What other changes do you want to make?”

  I scrunched up my forehead, thinking. “I don’t know. Let me do some more research.”

  “You’re going to be one of those parents, aren’t you?” She looked amused, albeit slightly concerned.

  “What do you mean, ‘one of those’?” I crossed my arms, playfully. It felt good to banter back and forth.

  “The type who tries new fads. Certain toys, music…” She motioned a never-ending cycle.

  “Maybe,” I admitted. “I just want‌…‌I want our child to have what I didn’t.”

  She leaned closer to me. “Which is what?”

  “To feel loved. To have options.”

  A tear formed in the corner of her eye. I reached over and wiped it away with a fingertip.

  “You never fail to surprise me,” she said.

  “Hopefully in a good way.”

  “At least forty percent of the time.”

  I chuckled. “Forty! That’s harsh!”

  “Honesty hurts.”

  I waved her words away. “I bet our kid will be smarter than Ethan’s.”

  Sarah shook her head and tsked. “Don’t even start. I won’t let you pressure our baby to succeed. Nothing good comes from it.”

  “But I can watch documentaries with our child. What musical instrument do you think? Cello? Violin? What about the trumpet? I always wanted to play the trumpet.”

  “The trumpet!” she chortled. “Since when did you want to play any instrument, let alone the trumpet?”

  Not responding, I changed tactics. “Fisher Price has apps for babies.”

  Sarah set her fork and knife down methodically, taking extra time to weigh her words. “This coming from the woman who had a flip cell phone when we started dating.”

  She leveled her gaze at me, and I felt my confidence wilt. I put my palms up. “Okay, okay. I give. But some of them seem harmless, like the animal sounds.”

  “Lizzie, I’m not opposed to learning tools.” Her voice was even but firm. “I’m opposed to pressure and setting unreal expectations.”

  “So I guess the Learning Letters Monkey app is out?” I flashed my cell phone.

  “Let me see that,” she demanded. “How many apps have you downloaded? You do know I’m not even pregnant yet, right?” We were to attend another appointment with the doctor next week.

  I rubbed the crease that formed in the center of my forehead. The other day, I had downloaded a ton of those apps on my phone to try them out. Of course, then I realized the baby would need a tablet, too—thank God I hadn’t said that out loud.

  “I get it. You need distractions. Maybe you should sign up for a hobby or something.”

  “A hobby!” I scoffed.

  “I’ll buy you a trumpet.” Sarah pretended to dangle what I assumed was a trumpet in my face.

  “Deal!”

  “One condition, though. You have to practice when I’m at work,” she smirked.

  “Really! I hope you’re more supportive of our child.” I raised an accusatory eyebrow.

  “I’m hoping our child is more mature than you.”

  I feigned hurt. “Is it too childish to share a dessert?” I nodded to the table behind her. “The brownie sundae looks very tempting.”

  * * *

  Ethan was sitting at our usual table in Starbucks. The door closed behind me, shutting out the street traffic. He didn’t bother looking up from his novel. Usual table, I’d thought, as if we still met once a week, like we used to before Casey came along. Before I got married. Before. Before—when life seemed miserable and yet less complicated. I fucking hated irony.

  I ordered a chai from the young man behind the counter. He looked like he wasn’t old enough to drive a car. How was it that young people were starting to look younger and younger while I felt and looked older with each passing second? Earlier that morning, I’d plucked two black hairs from my chin. Seriously, no one warned you about that becoming the norm.

  I strolled up to the table.

  “Howdy, stranger.” Ethan set his book aside.

  “Imagine meeting you here,” I replied.

  He smiled his cynical smile, his thin moustache giving a quasi-intellectual appearance. The Coke-bottle glasses he always wore added to the effect. “I haven’t been to a Starbucks in years, not since you.”

  “My, you do know how to charm a girl,” I winked. “Who knew I had the power to ruin Starbucks for you. Me, I still pop in every day. I’m addicted to this.” I raised my chai and took a melodramatic sip. “I wish I could kick the habit. It’s wreaking havoc on my girlish figure. Just the other day, my thighs rubbed together. I felt like a stuffed pig.”

  “Are you riding much lately?”

  “I try to get out for short rides each day, but I don’t seem to have enough hours in the day, and it feels wrong to be riding and doing something I enjoy.”

  He nodded, but didn’t ask why. I sensed Ethan knew that even better than I did. He usually knew what I was feeling long before I processed it.

  “Who called you?” I tucked a flyaway strand of hair behind my ear. My hair was thinning, random strands slipping from my ponytail no matter how tight I made it.

  “What do you mean?” He looked away.

  “Sarah or Maddie?”

  Ethan threw his hands in the air. The jig was up. “Both, actually. I’m not sure if they planned it that way or whether it was just a coincidence.”

  “There aren’t any coincidences when it comes to those two.”

  “You have to admire their methods. I’m still amazed they got you to wear a wedding dress. A white one!” he hooted.

  I cringed, recollecting. “Don’t remind me, please.”

  “And the cake. Did you know Sarah intended on smearing the cake all over your face?” His eyes sparkled over the disgraceful memory.

  I crossed my arms and huffed. “She promised me she wouldn’t.”

  Ethan cocked one eyebrow. “And you believed her?” he tsked. “Seriously, I would have thought being a woman would have given you a better advantage in a lesbian relationship.”

  “So, what’s your mission today?” I tried to steer the conversation away from our wedding. I hated being the center of attention; even the memories of having to be a “bride” gave me gooseflesh. I’d cried during my toast. How humiliating!

  “To see how you’re doing. You know, the usual with you. Do you plan on running away, like normal? Or do you plan on pretending nothing is wrong and bury yourself in work?” He motioned to my bag. “How many books do you have in there?”

  “Seven, but I went to the library on my way here,” I defended myself.

  “Why didn’t you leave them in the car?” Ethan rubbed his chin and squinted: his best hard-boiled detective look.

  “I planned on thumbing through them after…” I pointed to him.

  “Is it option two, then?” He grinned, but I could tell he was concerned.

  “Is there an option three?”

  “Such as?”

  “I don’t know, yet,” I confessed.

  “Honesty—that’s new.”

  “Anyone tell ya you’re a riot?”

  “Come on, I’m just teasing you. Tell me, how do you feel?”

  “I’m assuming we’re talking about my mom.”

  “That would be a good assumption. Stop stalling.” He waggled a finger in my face. “And while you’re at it, I’ve also been asked to wheedle out how you feel about having a kid, during all this.”

  “How did I miss that one?” I smiled, but I meant it.

  “You should have left the books in the car. We’re going to be here a while.”

  I stood. “Wha
t can I get you?” I motioned to his nearly empty cup.

  “Just coffee. No frills.”

  Despite all of the options, Ethan always went for the house blend. Before heading to the register, I added, “I’ve missed our chats. Thanks.”

  “Don’t try to sweet talk me. I’m going to get you to open up. I’m afraid of those two.” He folded his arms, but the twinkle in his eyes said he felt the same.

  I shook my head in mock disdain and left to order. Ethan immediately returned to his book. A man after my own heart. No wonder we got along so well.

  When I returned, he held his finger up to silence me, and then traced the words near the bottom of the page. Peeking over, I saw that he was finishing up the chapter.

  I set his coffee down and spread out the sandwiches and fruit I’d bought.

  “Good Lord, you planning for the end of the world?” He snatched up a grape and popped it into his mouth.

  “I figured it was the least I could do, since my wife and Maddie pretty much threatened your life if you didn’t accomplish your mission. Hopefully this isn’t your last meal.”

  “Let’s get to it, then. What thoughts are rolling around in that empty noggin of yours?”

  “If it’s empty, how could I have any thoughts?”

  Ethan shook an apple slice in my face. “Stop stalling. I have my own woman at home who’ll kill me if I’m gone all day.”

  I rubbed my eyes, applying too much pressure, causing flashes of light. “Where do I start? I feel guilty, sad, relieved, angry…” I made a circular motion with my hand. The list was endless.

  He latched onto one word. “Relieved?”

  “Yeah. That one goes with guilty. The most obvious aspect is that I don’t want Mom to suffer anymore. But there’s a part of me that is relieved. Even if we haven’t talked in a few years, the threat was always there. Mom could pop back up into my life at any moment and continue tormenting me. I know that sounds heartless. I can’t believe I’m mentioning it to you.” I shielded my eyes with one hand, stopping myself from seeing the expression on his face.

  Ethan didn’t speak for several moments. Finally, he cleared his throat. “That’s why you’re beating yourself up? Lizzie, when are you going to realize that you’re human, just like the rest of us?”

  I uncovered my eyes. “So this is normal?”

  “Yes. People are selfish. It’s normal. Let’s face it, your mom wasn’t the best. Is it right to feel this way? Well, that’s a different question.” He drummed his fingers on the tabletop, lost in thought.

  “So it’s normal, but not right. You and your riddles.” I smiled weakly.

  Ethan straightened in his chair, such a skinny, awkwardly tall man. “I think you need to have a come-to-Jesus talk with your mom.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “I think you need to tell her how she made you feel all those years.”

  “You want me to confront my dying mother and tell her she was a crappy mom. Sarah wants me to tell her that I love her. What if I don’t want to do either?” I was testy, and my voice did nothing to hide it.

  “Then you’ll never have peace,” he stated bluntly. “And while you’re at it, tell Peter he’s an ass.” He smiled, attempting to soften the blow with humor.

  “You should meet his new fiancée. She thinks Hawaii is a foreign country.”

  “It should be.”

  I looked up from the sandwich I was about to bite into. “What?”

  “We stole it. It should be autonomous.”

  “Jesus, Ethan, do you really think Tiffany—who pronounces her name Tie-Fannie—understands that much. And if we went by your logic, none of the US should be the US. Ever since—”

  He raised his hand to silence me. “There’s the Lizzie I know. I have one more question for you. How do you feel about Sarah and the baby?”

  Without thinking, I blurted, “That’s the only thing in my life that makes sense right now.”

  Ethan slapped the table. “Mission accomplished!”

  “When do you have to report in?” I teased.

  He eyed his watch. “Fifteen hundred hours.”

  “You’re a nerd. What book are you reading? It’s massive.”

  “Gone with the Wind.”

  I rolled my eyes. “And you wonder why everyone in grad school thought you were gay.”

  “Narrow-minded assholes,” he growled. He chomped off half of his sandwich and patted his mouth daintily with a napkin.

  “How’s the little one?”

  “She said her first curse word the other day.” He swallowed, and then grinned mischievously. “It was one of my proudest moments.”

  “What’d she say? Fuck?”

  “Please, my child isn’t a commoner like you. Merde.”

  “I told Sarah The Little Mermaid wasn’t good for children!” I shook my head.

  “Sarah told me you studied the movie for days, just so you could show up my daughter. Then, when she didn’t dress as Ariel again, you lost your nerve. Really, Lizzie, are you that competitive?”

  I sniffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yeah right.” He shook his head. “You do make your life a lot harder than it needs to be.”

  After Ethan left, I stayed to get some research done. Armed with a book and pen and paper for notes, I zoned out completely and was quite good at blocking out distractions. I was flipping through a reference text, making notes, when someone behind me cleared her throat in an obvious way, to get my attention. Something warned me about turning around, but I did it anyway.

  Jasmine stared back at me.

  Thank God Ethan had already left, or he would have reported this back to the girls for sure.

  “Hi, Jasmine.” I stood awkwardly to shake her hand.

  “Sorry to disturb you.” She smiled and gestured to the books.

  I’m pretty sure she wasn’t sorry, since she’d done her best to attract my attention.

  “Please, have a seat.” I motioned to the chair across from me. “How goes the research?” I asked politely. Historians, myself included, loved to talk about things most people didn’t give two shits about. Primary sources, secondary sources, journal articles—it was amazing what got our hearts pumping.

  Her face perked up, her timidity dissolving. “Really well. Thanks for all the tips. I actually received a book from the British Library yesterday. I was tickled pink!”

  See? Who else would get excited about receiving a book from the British Library?

  I had planned to get some work done, but ended up losing track of time and talking to Jasmine for more than an hour.

  “Are you still at Starbucks?”

  I hadn’t realized how much time had passed until I received Sarah’s text. Obviously, Ethan had already reported in, and she was expecting me home.

  “Yes.” I sent back, and continued my conversation with Jasmine.

  A man ambled past, took one look at Jasmine, and stopped in his tracks. Both of us stopped talking and eyed him, waiting for him to say or do something. He flushed profusely and mumbled, “Did you drop a pencil?” He pointed to a lone pencil on the floor, about three tables away.

  “Thanks, but that’s not mine,” Jasmine replied, dismissing him with a sweet, shy smile.

  The man nodded but didn’t budge, not for at least five seconds.

  Once he was safely in the bathroom, I laughed. “Does that happen to you often?”

  Jasmine stared out the window and shrugged. It was cute how she did it. I wanted to tell her about Sarah’s reaction, but thought better of it. I could see Jasmine was already uncomfortable with the man’s unwanted attention.

  “There you are!” I knew, even without turning around, that Sarah had come to retrieve me. Before I had even spun in her direction, I could feel her glaring at Jasmine, who in turn, wilted.

  I popped out of my chair and announced cheerfully, “Look who I bumped in
to after Ethan left. Sarah, I’m sure you remember Jasmine.” Maddie strutted through the door, Doug right behind her. I swallowed a groan.

  “Jasmine, I want you to meet two of my dearest friends, Maddie and Doug.” I turned to the couple. “Jasmine is pursuing her PhD in history, and we both focus on children under the Third Reich.” I gave Maddie a steely eyed glare, cautioning her not to be her usual self. Jasmine wasn’t comfortable at all.

  Doug immediately pulled up a chair next to the young woman until Maddie’s cough alerted him that he should first grab a chair for Maddie. Taking his lead, I pulled out a chair for my jealous wife.

  Sarah sat down stiffly. I affectionately slid my hand onto her leg, which calmed her down some. “How’s the research coming along, Jasmine?” she asked, almost kindly.

  Jasmine smiled but said nothing. Doug was actively gaping at her. Maddie was staring at Doug as if she wanted to throttle him. It was time for me to step in.

  “Jasmine was just telling me about a book she discovered, a diary that hadn’t been published when I was in school. Thanks to Jasmine”—I turned to Sarah—“and to you, I already ordered it on the iPad you got me for my birthday.” I turned back to Jasmine. “I can’t wait to read it. So, you really think this will change your thesis?”

  Jasmine transformed into her confident self again. I could see she would make a great lecturer in a couple of years, once she controlled her nerves. Doug hung on her every word, and even Maddie and Sarah seemed intrigued.

  When she finished, I added, “Of course, your findings may blow one of my new theories out of the water.”

  Jasmine started to interrupt, but I put my palm in the air. “Oh, no worries. That’s what’s great about scholarship. New things surface, changing the way we think. So many people think history is dead, but it’s alive and kicking. Keeps us busy!”

  Sarah stared at me. Blinked. Had I just witnessed my wife’s realization that Jasmine wasn’t a threat? I was too much of a historian to get turned on by Jasmine. The fact that I was giddy about a new diary rather than about the hot woman sitting opposite me didn’t help my cool factor, but it did make my wife almost laugh in my face with relief.

  Doug, on the other hand, was still in for a long night. I pitied him.