Truths and Lies (eBook)
222 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
978-1-6678-9166-8 (ISBN)
After Vickie goes through a bitter divorce, she is adamant there will never be another man in her life. She is bored, but she is free, and she likes it this way. She simply can't trust men anymore because she sees them all as losers and liars. One evening after a couple glasses of wine, Vickie's girlfriend talks her into going online to see what's out there. Vickie is horrified by what she sees, but before she can delete her brand-new account for good, a picture of one guy attracts her attention. She sends him an "e;interested"e; message and sends her life in a new direction. What follows will define the future of these two people who fight to overcome numerous lies and truths to maybe, just maybe, be happy.
Chapter One
Choices or Destiny?
November 2011
It was Vicki’s annual tradition to see at least one Seahawks football game a season at the CenturyLink Field, but this time she wasn’t in the mood to sit in the cold rain for over three hours all by herself. Her best friend, Darlene, who for the past seventeen years had kept her company going to shows, games and on annual ‘girls’ trips, wasn’t there this time. She was snow birding in Arizona with her recently retired husband escaping a nasty Seattle winter.
Vicki didn’t enjoy going to games by herself, and especially that November evening she felt more like staying home, grading her students’ papers, and later maybe watching some silly comedy on her iPad. This time nothing would be lost. She hadn’t even paid for her ticket, a thank you gift from a friend for helping him prepare his article for publication.
She poured herself a glass of this newly discovered wonderful French wine she had bought at Trader Joe’s. She took a few sips… oh, it was smooth.
Vicki came up to her dog Tucker, a black and white rescue Akita/Border Collie Mix, sleeping on his cozy bed by the French door leading to the back deck. The bed was strategically placed for him to have a quick escape outside any time Vicki opened that door. She petted him, but this time, this smart beast didn’t even lift up his head. He wasn’t interested in going outside and getting wet.
Vicki looked out of the window. Surprisingly, it had stopped raining, and soggy autumn leaves, glued to the dull brownish fall grass, were glistening in the bright deck light in her yard. It was remarkably quiet; no wind at all. The peaceful fall dampness made the view romantic.
“Maybe it’ll be a good game,” Vicki thought. She took one more sip of this velvety ‘Bois de Menge Gigondas’. As described on the label, its ‘subtle floral and dry herbal notes with a bit of black pepper flavors’ created the taste appropriate for the evening. It really tastes like fall…
Vicki’s mood was melancholy and cheerful at the same time—the mystery of the fall season.
“I can do things by myself and don’t always need Darlene’s company; I’m a big, independent girl,” Vicki thought and looked at the clock. If she left within ten minutes, she might still be able to make it to the game. She was still mentally fighting her mixed feelings—to go or not to go?
“I can stay home any time, but there are only so many games a year in Seattle, and having a free ticket is such a bonus.” Her mind was reasoning; a habit of a college professor to analyze even trivial situations in life.
She quickly changed to a pair of blue jeans, put on her blue and green Seahawks sweater, and grabbed her hooded raincoat. She was ready in case it started raining again. She rushed outside to catch the Uber she had ordered on her phone app.
The Uber driver was talkative, “You’re a lucky lady, going to a Seahawks game! It’s been only a dream for me so far; never had a chance. I hear the Seahawks are number one this season; haven’t lost a single game.”
Vicki felt satisfied she had made the right decision. Many people would love to go to the stadium but have no money or time, and here she had both. She was a lucky lady. She was thankful to her destiny and hard work that had brought her to a place in life where she was financially comfortable and could allow herself some extras. But to the driver who was probably only in his early thirties she tried to sound reassuring, “Oh, I understand. I only go to the stadium once a year. I’m sure the time will come when you’ll be able to go to any games you want. It’ll happen.”
“I hope so. This Uber job’s been a lifesaver. It pays the bills.”
Vicki didn’t maintain the conversation. At work she was always sociable and talkative with both colleagues and students, but the world outside the university was foreign to her, and here she felt more comfortable listening than speaking, and not chatting at all.
Vicki managed to find her seat just before the game started. The stadium, often called the House of 12s, was packed. The familiar adrenaline-generating noise was skillfully produced by the enthusiastic 12s, the devoted Seahawks fans. Their energy was contagious, and Vicki instantly became one of the members of the 12th Man Club famous in Seattle since 1984 for delivering the best NFL home field advantage for their team. Vicki smiled remembering a question one of the Seahawks’ fans had asked her once, “If God’s not a Seahawk fan, why is the sky blue and the grass green?” The Seahawks’ uniform blue and green colors were an important part of making fans adores their team. A combination of the ecstatic cheering noise and the mixture of all shades of blue and green were the audio and video narcotics that made the fans high, and Vicki, too, got engulfed in the exhilaration.
“Sometimes I make the right choices,” she thought pleased with herself for getting out of the house. She immersed herself in the game and yelled at the top of her lungs, “Go, Seahawks! First down!”
People around her were screaming and springing to their feet and then throwing themselves back down into their seats depending on the constantly changing dynamic on the field. She loved that captivating energy. The blue-green mass of spectators produced ‘the wave’, an illusion of the ocean: One minute it’s calm and smooth, and the next minute it’s a roaring storm. Many of the ‘number 12s’ were already a bit tipsy after their second or third beer, and their overall cheer and good-natured madness were contagious.
Vicki was a part of this show, a proud ‘number 12’.
The Seahawks were doing well. Their new coach, Pete Carroll, achieved such a success probably due to his ability to make all of the decisions, and if some were not working, admitting his mistakes and correcting them. His coaching style was definitely a great accomplishment, something to celebrate, so during half time, Vicki bought herself a beer. It seemed unfriendly not to have one when most of her Seahawks fan buddies for these few hours were drinking. This was pretty much the only time she allowed herself a beer as generally she was a wine person.
“Too bad they don’t drink wine at football games,” she thought, “but that would be ridiculous, of course. Wine is for quiet elegant pleasure, not for rooting-for-your-favorite-team-madness.” She took a few gulps of the cold amber liquid that rushed through her veins and filled them with warmth, and then hit her brain with a satisfying, light tipsiness.
“All good choices today,” she smiled.
The Baltimore Ravens were losing as the Seahawks scored again, and she sprang to her feet to cheer. A neighbor on her left bumped her elbow accidentally, and she lost control of her plastic cup. Some of the beer splashed up in the air and then landed on the lap of a neighbor on her right who had remained seated at that moment.
Vicki screamed, “Oh, I’m sorry!”
She managed to catch the now almost empty cup in midair, and she started wiping the rest of the beer off the guy’s pants, inadvertently touching his crotch.
“Oh, terribly sorry again! I didn’t mean to touch it,” she exclaimed and froze with her hands up in the air gesturing surrender. Not moving at all at that moment seemed to be the only right thing to do.
“No problem,” smiled the guy, “Nobody has been touching ‘it’ for such a long time that ‘it’ wouldn’t mind at all.”
Their eyes met.
Vicki blushed.
“Is he a pervert?” She thought, “He probably thinks the same about me. How terrible.”
“Would you like a new beer? There’s not much left in your cup.” The guy seemed nice, with a good sense of humor. He never even tried to wipe off his pants and acted like nothing had happened, though his lower body was sticky and wet. She glanced at him again and noticed his deep bluish green eyes, or maybe they were just reflecting Seahawks colors? He had a neatly trimmed gray mustache and his head was full of soft, wavy gray hair.
“Sure,” Vicki nodded, “We still have over an hour to go. Thank you.”
Why, why, why did she say that? It was so impolite to wet the guy’s pants, then to touch his privates, and then to have him buy her a drink. What was wrong with her? While she was processing all those thoughts in her mind, the guy was gone. At that very moment the stadium burst into an uproar as the Seahawks intercepted the football, and the guy missed that, all because of her…
Vicki felt guilty.
“I should’ve stayed home tonight after all. What a disaster,” she contemplated and decided she needed to escape so she wouldn’t commit some other stupid mishap and have to face this guy again.
She walked quickly up the stairs to exit the stadium. Now she just needed an Uber, but her phone didn’t respond; the battery was dead. It started drizzling... of course… Then it started raining heavily.
Her hooded raincoat failed to protect her from the pouring rain, and she was soaked by the time she finally found a cab.
“Not all good choices…” Vicki thought trying to unlock the door to her house with cold, wet fingers because she had lost at the stadium her Luciano leather gloves purchased in Florence during her recent business trip to Italy.
“Rushing seldom ends up well.” She blamed herself for acting so absent-mindedly. “I should always listen to my first...
| Erscheint lt. Verlag | 26.5.2023 |
|---|---|
| Sprache | englisch |
| Themenwelt | Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen |
| ISBN-10 | 1-6678-9166-9 / 1667891669 |
| ISBN-13 | 978-1-6678-9166-8 / 9781667891668 |
| Informationen gemäß Produktsicherheitsverordnung (GPSR) | |
| Haben Sie eine Frage zum Produkt? |
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