Tales of Bette: Black, White, Red
Bette Wheelan takes a journey
Black pinstripe suit, silk tie, never before.
Sharp hat, cane, white rose, brand new in splendor.
A ghost, facade, somehow his smile well-known.
Shocked, pale, stirring, my feet turned to stone.
He's familiar, yet somehow a stranger.
Tall, broad, to anyone else a danger.
Then came his strong scent: robust and refined.
A split second I was mute, deaf, and blind.
He spoke, freeing me from prison of harm.
He smirked, tipped his hat, and offered his arm.
Hypnotized, lost, the moment replayed and passed.
This stranger, friend, a man purely outclassed.
In the moment crested, that moment I grew.
Young lady no longer, a woman anew.
But then I ran and the moment was gone.
Fate made the choice for me, it was not wrong.
I replayed the moment of the man in black.
End it differently or take it back?
Never. I made my choice, destiny lead.
The man in black brought me to one in red.
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The playground is empty, as it should be past sundown. There is a warm breeze, and I can see everything despite the late hour. What time is it, anyway? It could very well be past midnight. I can never keep track of time, especially in the summer. A prickly piece of popcorn hides like a stowaway in the left cup of my padded training bra. I stuffed the tissue in last minute— a decision I’m beginning to regret, based on the events that are unfolding rapidly before me. To my left, laying non-chalantly on his back, is my date for the evening. He is two years older, could probably grow facial hair if he wanted to, and drives a secondhand Honda. He may as well be a Man. I, on the other hand, feel like a fraud with my too-short short-shorts, sparkly lip gloss, and makeshift push-up bra. I keep my arms pinned to my sides as I feel the dreaded circles of sweat beginning to manifest on my brand new Abercrombie top. I cup my elbows with my hands and stare down at my hint of cleavage, praying that the tissue doesn’t pop out like a white flag surrendouring my lack of womanhood.
By Marti Maley6 days ago in Fiction
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