Only Time Will Tell

A friend of mine (Anthony Schaeffer) and I met today for our discipleship/writers group. Today, we had some extra time and decided to collaborate on two stories. We spent 30 minutes writing two stories, trading computers every five minutes regardless of where we were in the story. Even if in mid-sentence. The story below is the result of the one I started. His blog (Wanderings) has the other posted on it. I guess the question for you, the reader, is, how would you end it?

Only Time Will Tell
She slowly bent down on at the foot of her bed. Placing her arm across the bed board she rested her head on her forearm, face to the ground. It was the bed she had grown up in, but had long since moved beyond. Now, at 34, there wasn’t a real need for a twin sized day bed filled with stuffed bears and pink pillows. However, here she set at the end of that very bed. The head board pushed tightly to the wall, she occupied the space at the foot of the bed. This bed was a catalyst for so many memories. She slowly raised her head, mascara running down her cheeks, like a child, she brushed her forearm just under her nose as she sniffed. It was hard to believe that she was leaving her home for a new life in Los Angles.

Her husband of just over a week has a job in sales for Paramount Studios he starts next Monday, that leaves just a day short of a week for Miranda to pack up her life and fly out to L.A. to join him. As she is looking at the mementos of her childhood she is transported back to her first ballet recital. She recalled how the butter flies in her seven year old stomach made her want to run. She wasn’t scared of successfully pulling off her dance routine, she knew she was good…even at seven. She had stage fright worse than anyone though. She remembers how Steven, the only boy in the class, ran up to her and gave her a hug. He said, “Miranda, you can do this. Just pretend you’re at the studio and the only people watching are your parents and me.” She raised her head up from her forearm, wiped the snot on her sleeve and said, “Thanks Steven!” She went out and was, as expected, the best performer of the day.

Snapping back in to reality, she grabbed Floppy off the bed. Floppy was a stuffed dog with a long tail and two floppy ears. One ear shorter than the other. Miranda couldn’t believe what she’d discovered about her husband. Floppy was the first gift she’d ever received from him. She held Floppy tight and buried her face in Floppy’s head as the rains came flowing from her eyes. Miranda’s husband didn’t know she knew…but she did.

She was scarred at the thought of being so far away from the small frame, Kentucky house that she had grown up in. But she was married to the man that she loved, and hopefully with enough patience she could make him love her. Mom told her that she would have to be the tower of strength in this relationship, the glue that would bond them together. She would have to be the loving supportive house wife that would make him forget those texts he got while on their honeymoon. How could he, just days before stand before God and pledge to love her and receive these messages from his ex.

They had been down this road before and he had assured her that it was over. Those naked pictures on his iPhone sure told a different story. That did not look like the type of message you send someone who told you it was over. Had Miranda been taken for a fool? Only time would tell.