creative writing, women

My New Addiction

This has been a recent and welcome discovery. There’s a lot of content but the warmth and enthusiasm is infectious and soon you’ll be hoping to find someone else who’s into it so you can talk to them about it.

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creative writing, culture, flash fiction, love, man, short fiction, Uncategorized, writing

Wedding Dance

Kevin winced as he got behind the wheel. His lower back screamed at him, but he gained a small amount of relief from seeing Jennifer turning her head from side to side as she waited for him to start the car. She turned her head and narrowed her eyes as he started the car.

‘You need to practice the lift more.’

He sighed as he took their Prius out of the studio’s parking lot. Despite the chill, he rolled down the window on his side.

‘Don’t, it’s freezing.’

He frowned and rolled it up as he focused on the sluggish clot of traffic that was at the intersection.

‘We’ve been sweating for hours, maybe I don’t want to stink the car up.’

Checking his rear view mirror, he looked at her. Her auburn hair was scraped back into a severe topknot and her skin glowed from the effort. Her lips were pursed into a knot that was tighter than her hair and Kevin saw the lines around her mouth, was greeted with a vision of what she would look like in ten years.

‘Oh so I stink, do I?’

His stomach lurched as he clutched the steering wheel.

‘No, Jen, it’s just that we’ve been rehearsing your fucking dance for three hours.’

‘So it’s my dance now? My wedding dance, that we’ve paid sixty dollars an hour to rehearse, is that mine?’

Her voice made his molars ring and he shut his eyes as he focused on his breath.  Kevin wanted a cigarette but he knew that it would be a clear act of aggression and he knew that he was not capable of handling another lecture from her today.

He looked at her, a smile of warm reassurance, his weapon of choice to end a conflict but her eyes were like pebbles, leached of life as she looked at him.

‘And if you actually practiced the steps, we wouldn’t need the extra lessons, would we?’

His smile died on his face and he turned the car into traffic.

The videos online. Elaborate choreography, adoring friends and family, a hit count that teemed and seethed with attention. She had shrieked with delight at the idea when she got the link in her email, and had made Kevin watch, first that one then delving down until he was punch drunk and vowed never to listen to ‘I’ve Had The Time of My Life’ unless it was at gunpoint.

The enthusiastic things she’d done when he’d agreed had quieted the small voice of concern but not shut it up completely. It was loud in the car, without saying anything.

‘Don’t forget we’ve got the caterer on Wednesday. I need you there, and did you do the list of who’s vegetarian?’

He bit back the assertion that none of his friends were but decided against it. Instead, he nodded and murmured a vowel sound that she took as affirmation.

It came to him as he took them home, that he had watched the videos but never looked into the faces of the participants. People assumed that there was joy in pledging your life to someone else, even if they had Facebook inboxes that were as clean as a hotel room or had ‘friends’ who wouldn’t speak when they called the house. He wondered, if he could bear to watch them again, what their faces would actually look like.

He tried not to imagine what his own face would look like.

 

 

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I think he’s incredible, troubled but with that, he holds a magnetic voice and a sensual, commanding body of music already. I await his next album with palpable excitement. I wrote the first book to Voodoo, the second album because it is dark, raw and very sexy.