Friday Writing Essentials ~ FWE MDR ~ My dream romance ~ This was a dream

Sun glinted on the paper I held in my hand.

*

Noon.

Saturday.

I’ll call you.

I want to hear what you’ve been up to.

Your ex-boyfriend.

One of the three.

Ha.

Which ex-boyfriend?

A smile peeked out from the corners of my mouth.

My heart fluttered.

After all this time, why now?

Thirty years of marriage  and  now this?

I stole a glance at my watch.

11:59 a.m.

I blew out a breath, then looked in the mirror.

Yikes!

Crow’s feet. Wrinkles on my brow.

On my fingers.

Eek.

I snatched my fingers away from the mirror.

Gel manicure.

Thank god for that.

And a gorgeous diamond and sapphire ring, a minor inheritance.

I blew away a wisp of hair that had fallen into my line of sight and fastened it with the tortoise shell claw that L had me on our trip to the Yucatan.

I winced.

L! Haven't thought about him in a loooong time.

More than a foot taller than me.

But the gentlest man, ever.

12 noon.

The phone rang.

I stared at the display. No number.

Heh.

My thoughts drifted back to L.

In our apartment on cold nights by the fire, reading, me curled up in his lap. Easy when he’s 15 inches taller than me.

Just more of him to curl with.

Long, straight blonde hair and a beard to match his lanky, poetic frame.

I’d complain about my unruly brown hair that would never stay put.

But you’re a raven-haired wench to me, he’d say.

Mmm.

Sandalwood and musk,  his scent, as I’d nuzzle in his thick sea-green sweater.

He’d kiss the top of my head and curl his arm around me and carry me to bed, kissing me with coffee kisses.

How I loved it when he’d call me Kira.

*

Or, maybe it’s S?

Another gentle, bearded man, with thick black hair and a thick beard I liked to curl my fingers around.

How I loved it when he’d call me Kira.

Mornings curled around the fire with Kathy the stray tiger cat who wandered in for a plate of milk and never left.

Sorta like S himself.

But when his touchy-feely emotions I loved so much began to swell the room, I couldn’t breathe.

One morning Kathy walked out the door and never returned.

Next day, I jogged to my morning restaurant for a cup of coffee and to read the paper and never went back.

*

Maybe it is J?

The husband.

Ahem.

Ex-husband.

The fingernail on the blackboard is still too fresh for me to wax romantic about that one.

But oh how shiny he was when I saw him that night at the party, standing tall and backlit as if by a halo, in a silver-gray suit.

Blond hair and sea-foam eyes.

No beard.

Too bad.

But his shine, a patina that lasted until one day the mirror broke, and I bought a new one and then and I saw that he had no reflection because he'd stopped loving himself.

And everybody else.

Shiny bit of tinsel that doesn’t wear well.

One man by day, another by night.

I loved his little kitty smile when he’d let down his wall.

It was the wall that got me.

Street tough, tail up, ready to fight.

Wore me out.

One day, I took our three cats and boarded a plane, hoping he’d never find me.

I didn’t hate him.

He didn’t hurt me.

I just couldn’t be myself.

*

So, who’s calling me?

I picked up the receiver and cradled it against my neck, checking my hair in the mirror.

No longer raven haired, but a dusty blonde.

Oh well.

The mirror smiled back at me.

Now that’s freaky.

“Hello?”

Did I really want to know?

“Kira?”

The warmest voice.

My heart swelled.

I’d take the next plane anywhere just to be with him.

“I’m downstairs in the apartment office, thought we might –”

I slammed down the receiver.

I grabbed my satchel and raced for the elevator.