Sleeping Roses

by RaShelle Workman

  Hers was the complete opposite. Where his overflowed, hers was sparse. There sat a lamp, a match to his, a picture of her mom and dad and a small, silver alarm clock.

  Directly opposite the bed was a large dresser made of the same wood and finish as the bed, with a plasma TV hanging above it. Perfectly placed on one side, were different sized, blue, green and white oriental vases. On the other side of the dresser, were three Tang horses, also of different sizes.

  The wall, opposite the door, was a sitting area, with a large, bay window, covered in plump cushions, two oversized chairs and a small coffee table. The bathroom entrance opened next to the sitting area. The bedroom floor was wood, but mostly covered with a big, Asian inspired rug, the bathroom was all white marble, with green and black accents.

  Her vanity was centered between two oversized sinks. A large, jetted bathtub, a walk-in shower and a toilet completed the room. Next to the bathroom sat the entrance to the walk in closet.

  Sophie was still unable to believe David left those sheets on the bed. It made her sick, literally. Running into the bathroom, she gagged several times, but nothing came up.

  Turning on the water, she took a clean washcloth off the vanity.

  Wetting it with warm water, she ran it over her face. Looking in the mirror, she whispered determinedly, “Be strong, Sophie.”

  She brushed her teeth. Took off her clothes. Applied some mascara, blush and lip gloss. When she finished with her makeup, she threw it into her bag, going to the large walk-in closet. There she pulled out a pair of hose and carefully put them on. Next, she put on her gray suit with a light blue camisole.

  Feeling a bit dazed, she put on her dark gray pumps, a bracelet and some earrings. Next she grabbed a garment bag, put some clothes and necessities in it and was about to walk out, when she noticed the red dress hanging on the door. The front and back had a deep V-neck line, with red beading, at the thick empire waistline. It was obviously made of silk with a sheer red layer over the top. She had to admit it was beautiful, even while she wondered who’d helped him pick it out.

  Probably his assistant, she thought, walking away. Changing her mind, she went back for it. Once it was tucked safely inside the garment bag, she left the room.

  She knew she wanted out of this relationship, but didn’t want to die in the process. The note in her purse, and the scar on her neck was reminder enough she needed to handle things carefully. Who knows, she thought, a flash of hope overcoming her. Maybe he’ll get some help and we can stay together.

  She conceded, at the same moment, she was probably being naive, or even stupid. Deep down, though, she wanted to believe she knew the real David, the one she’d known before they were married, was in there somewhere. It was doubtful, she knew. She also knew she was frightened. Believing he might change, with help, seemed easier. She wasn’t ready to face reality. She’d married a man she hardly knew, and he was a monster. Feeling the need to push aside her thoughts, she focused, instead, on why she’d come.

  She entered her art studio. Gingerly, she lifted her portfolio out from behind some canvas David had purchased for her. He wanted her to paint, but she’d never been able to paint in this room. Once, she tried, but no inspiration would come.

  Two years, she marveled wistfully, unable to believe she hadn’t lifted a brush, except of course, in her paint class. She checked inside, to make sure everything she needed was still there. Once at the door, she glanced back, longingly wishing for things that most likely would never be, imagining how things should have been. With great sorrow, she closed the door, heading toward the stairs.

  She noticed the picture right away. She did each time she came to the top of the stairs because it was a picture of her and David, taken at their wedding. They both looked happy. This time, though, she noticed something else about the picture, how innocent she looked. She realized she noticed it this time because her innocence was gone. Walking down the stairs, she thought about what might have been; what should be.

  At the bottom, she remembered her mother’s hope chest still covered in the basement. Most of her life—no, all of her life—was tied to this house, to David. The memories, though most of them not good, were all she had.

  “Be strong,” she murmured, knowing now wasn’t the time to crumble. She needed to get to her interview.

  Feeling a burst of courage, she whispered, “I won’t let him beat me.” Without a backward glance, she left the house.

  Chapter 4

  “Thanks again, Dr. Jensen,” she said, standing.

  “I appreciate you taking the time to see me.” She took Dr. Jensen’s outstretched hand, shaking it gratefully.

  “You’re welcome, Sophia,” Dr. Jensen returned.

  “Call me Sophie, please,” she expressed with a smile. Her interview with Dr. Jensen had gone well. It’d been much easier to get through than she’d imagined.

  Dr. Jensen had put her immediately at ease, with his earnest, dark eyes, charming smile, and likable wit. He was of average height, with chocolate skin. His short, black curly hair, had patches of gray throughout. Small, wire-framed glasses sat gracefully on the end of his nose, giving him a distinguished look.

  His office matched him, warm, inviting and comfortable. There were two comfortable looking leather chairs opposite his large mahogany desk. Next to one chair, was a small end table. Sitting on it was a fern. Behind the chairs, in the corner, stood a tree of some kind, another fern and some flowering plants. They looked like lilies, but she wasn’t sure. There were also several plants sitting, happily, on his windowsill.

  He had pictures of his family everywhere including a large one hanging directly behind him. Her eyes had been drawn to the smiling faces of his wife and three boys during the interview. He was open, intelligent, and seemed to love his family.

  “Sophie it is then.” He leaned over, picking up her portfolio and handed it to her.

  “Your work is exceptional. I’m surprised you haven’t done more with your talent.”

  She beamed graciously, appreciating the compliment.

  Dr. Jensen continued, “One of my hobbies, aside from a love of plants, is collecting art. I’d buy at least three of these.”

  Feeling embarrassed by the praise, she reached a hand to her cheek.

  Dr. Jensen grinned. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you, but seriously, if you’re interested, I’d love to talk to you about selling a couple of them.”

  “Sure, Dr. Jensen. Thank you.”

  “Thank you. It’s going to be a privilege having you work with us. I know I’m excited about it, and I’m sure the students will benefit greatly from you being here.” Then he said to Rina, who’d walked into his office near the end of their conversation, “Ms. Sumpter, give her the grand tour, would you?” He looked back at Sophie, “You’re in good hands. Enjoy yourself, and we’ll meet back later. I’m interested to hear what you think of the place, and especially our Art Department.”

  “I’ll take care of her, Dr. Jensen,” Rina chirped.

  Sophie and Rina left the office and started down the hall. Rina spoke excitedly.

  “His first name is Mark, by the way. He’s a great Principal and cares a lot about the students.”

  “I believe it. What I can’t believe is how much he liked my paintings. Do you think he was only trying to be nice?” She was still flabbergasted by his praise of her work.

  “Trust me. Dr. Jensen doesn’t say anything unless he means it. If he says he likes your work, he really likes your work,” Rina stated seriously.

  “I’ve been telling you for years, your work is amazing. Maybe now you’ll start believing it.”

  “I guess,” Sophie uttered.

  “You’re going to love the Art Department. It’s amazing. It’s just down the hall from the Theater Department.”

  “Sounds easy to remember.” Sophie laughed, feeling excited and a little uneasy about this new experience.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll help you out, and if you have a quick ques
tion, I’m sure Phillip Hansen, can answer it for you. Oh, speak of the devil, here he is.” To Phillip, she smiled crisply. “Hey, I’d like to introduce you to our new Art Director.”

  Motioning in Sophie’s direction, she continued, “Sophie Berkeley, this is Dr. Phillip Hansen. He’s our Theater Director, which means the two of you will probably see a lot of each other.”

  Smiling shyly, Sophie said, “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you, too.” Phillip smiled back.

  “Okay, okay, enough with the formalities. We’ve a lot to do; let’s get a move on,” Rina said sarcastically. “Later, Phil . . .” She couldn’t finish because her beeper went off.

  Sophie noticed Rina frowned at it.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Oh, I’m sure there’s a problem with one of the students. It’s a 911, which means I’m going to have to cut this short. We might have to finish this later, if you don’t mind.”

  Sophie started to tell her not to worry about it when Phillip interrupted.

  “I can show her around if you’d like. This is my free period, so I have some time.”

  “Phillip, that would be great,” Rina said, sounding relieved.

  “I’ll see you later, Sophie.” Noticing the look on her face, she added, “Don’t worry, he won’t bite.” Abruptly, she turned to leave, calling, “Thanks, Phillip.”

  Sophie was stressed enough coming here, and meeting the Principal of the school, but now taking a tour from a complete stranger, not to mention an incredibly handsome one, it was almost more than she could take. She peeked up at him and noticed a small smile on his face. He’d been watching her, and was obviously amused by something.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes. “Like Rina said, I don’t bite, much.”

  Sophie hurriedly looked away, bristling.

  “Are you ready to have a look around your new department?” Phillip asked.

  “Of course,” she replied, trying to sound professional, even though she felt like a child.

  “It’s right over here,” he said, walking forward.

  She hurried to catch up with him and said, trying to regain her composure,

  “You don’t need to do this. I can wait until Rina can show me.”

  “As I told Rina, it’s no problem. I’m glad to do it.”

  “Great,” she said, her swirling emotions changing to anger. Not anger exactly, but something weird, and she wasn’t sure why. It isn’t because of him she thought, sneaking another look at him.

  Rina was right. The Art Department surpassed her wildest imagination. She instantly liked the place, her classroom and the entire private high school. She understood now why Rina had been trying to get her to work here for such a long time. She’d also had a chance to meet some of the students. The whole atmosphere left her feeling vibrant and alive. Those emotions were followed, though, by apprehension. She realized even if she were able to work things out with David, she’d keep this job. Knowing he didn’t want her to work, she wondered what would happen. She knew, but she ignored the thought.

  #

  Back in her hotel room, Sophie sat on the edge of the bed wondering what she should do, what she wanted to do.

  She'd taken another shower, reapplied her makeup and redone her hair. Putting on the red dress, she noticed the time. Eight forty-five, she thought, knowing if she decided to see David, she needed to leave now. Panic only scratched the surface of her emotions. It dawned on her these feelings weren't because she was worried about what he would think of her having a job. They were because she didn’t want to see him, or speak to him or be near him, ever again.

  With David, her life had become routine; habitual even, and she'd accepted it, for whatever reason, but she wasn't going to do it anymore. For the first time in years, she enjoyed her day. She knew she didn’t want to let go of the feeling.

  Especially not for David, she thought fiercely.

  Picking up her cell phone, she determinedly dialed Rina’s number, realizing as she did, she still needed Rina’s help; she couldn’t do it alone. Rina answered, almost as if she’d expected the call.

  “What are you doing tonight?” Sophie asked weakly.

  “I’m just getting ready for dinner. Would you like to come over?”

  “Absolutely,” she answered, her voice gaining strength.

  “All right, I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  “Okay. You realize what a big step this is for me, don’t you?”

  “I think I do,” Rina answered.

  “It means I’m leaving David. If I don’t go to dinner tonight, he’ll know, and he’ll be livid.” She hesitated again, an abrupt sickness welling inside her.

  More than anyone, she understood what David had become, and what he was capable of. She wondered if this was a good idea. Into the phone, she said, “You know, I’m not sure I can do this. I have this feeling David’s reaction is going to be awful.”

  “It may be, but it’s still the right thing to do. You’ve got to. Rina sounded harsh, but it still gave her strength.

  “You’re right,” she conceded, remembering today and recognizing she wanted to have those feelings in her life more often, even if it meant fighting for it. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  #

  “When did you become such a great cook?” Sophie questioned as she leaned back in her chair. She’d forgotten what it was like to be full.

  Rina laughed. “I’ve always been a good cook, dear. You just haven’t been able to try it in a while, you know, since you married David, Chef of the Year,” she answered, quoting a recent newspaper clipping which had detailed the award David won about a month ago.

  Sophie laughed, too, trying to push away the uneasy feelings churning inside her.

  “Well, thanks. The chicken was incredible. I haven’t been this full in a long time.”

  “You’re welcome,” Rina said, putting the dishes in the sink.

  “Come on, let’s leave the dishes and sit in the living room. I’ve got something for you.”

  “What is it?” Sophie asked, surprised. Interested, she walked into the living room.

  Rina’s house was small but comfortable. The furnishings were modern with a twist of warmth, not stark like she’d first imagined it would be. Tasteful was the word. She’d painted the walls a cool shade of gray and although the home was older, she’d updated most of it, including the countertops, which were now a dark gray concrete. The finishes on the cabinetry and in the bathrooms were all sleek and smooth. All of the floors had remained wood, although they’d been changed to a light pine because Rina had said she didn’t want concrete on her floors. Most of her furnishings fit the modern style. Simple. Neutral. As if to throw people off, though, she’d purchased a zebra print chaise made out of what looked like real zebra fur. She’d placed it, without discretion, in the living room where it would be noticed from wherever you sat. She loved it, and figured it was just another one of Rina’s pieces of art. On display for all to see.

  “Go ahead and sit down,” Rina hollered as she walked into her bedroom. “I’ll be right there.”

  Sophie sat down, looking around the room. She marveled at the beautiful sculptures placed perfectly throughout the room.

  “When did you get this new one?” Sophie yelled, looking at a sculpture of a woman’s torso. The artists conscious simplicity is incredible, she thought, impressed. The textures the artist used were stirring, as was the attention to detail. She absently wondered if she’d heard of the sculptor, but doubted it.

  When Rina came back into the room, she walked over to Sophie, motioning to the new sculpture.

  “I picked the sculpture up a week ago. I found it in a gallery not far from here.”

  “It’s delicate,” Sophie admired, graciously. Suddenly she noticed the card in Rina’s hand. Confused, she asked, “What’s in your hand?”

  “It’s Sheldon Wodden’s business card. I’ve known a few people w
ho have used him and they’ve all said he’s good.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said, taking the card from Rina’s outstretched hand. “What’s he good at?”

  “Good at his job,” Rina returned casually.

  She looked at Rina, realizing she’d responded a little too casually. Glancing curiously down at the card, the words on it hit her like a ton of bricks.

  “Attorney-at-law,” Sophie mumbled, reading the card aloud. “He’s a divorce lawyer, Rina.”

  “Yes, among other things, he’s a divorce lawyer.”

  Flustered, she said, “You’re rushing me. I need to do this on my own terms.”

  “You’re right,” Rina calmly admitted.

  “But when you’re ready, I wanted you to have someone who knows what he’s doing, that’s all.”

  Sophie watched Rina walk over to the couch and sit down, before patting the cushion next to her, an obvious sign she wanted her to come and sit, too. She wasn’t ready though.

  Sophie looked at her watch. It was nine-thirty, which meant David had already been waiting thirty minutes. She checked her cell phone and remembered she’d turned it off. She hadn’t wanted to listen to the constant ringing she was sure would begin not long after nine o’clock.

  “What have I done?” She wondered aloud.

  “Come and sit down,” Rina said, patting the spot on the couch next to her again.

  “You’re going to be all right.”

  Slowly walking to the couch, Sophie sat next to Rina. She looked again at the card, then at Rina. “I don’t think it’s going to be all right, Rina. I have this feeling I’m in trouble.”

  Rina took her hand, pulling her body to face her.

  “Sophie, I love you,” Rina blurted.

  “I love you, too, but I don’t see how that’s going to help in this situation. Did you hear me when I said I think I’m in trouble?” she asked, still thinking about what David might do to her.

  “No, that isn’t what I mean,” Rina uttered, looking flustered. “I’m in love with you,” she repeated purposely. “I have been for years, probably since the day we met.”