#because no one wants to get married in nearly hundred degree weather

[dreadfuldevotee]

on a completely personal note i have seriously got to find a social hobby because i am Not! coping with having no irl friends

[toggle1-mrfipp]

Fipp: This is just a crackship fic, nothing more.

Also, let's assume this takes place in an AU where things went better than they did in canon.

Schnee Sibling Brunch

Whitley has brunch with Weiss and Winter to better reconnect. Winter has a stroke. (Qrow/Willow Jaune/Winter crackship)

Among other things, Whitley had to admit that this was... nice. Yes, nice, that seemed like the proper way to refer to how the relationship between him and his sisters had developed recently. Much of the animosity had faded away and allowed them to grow a better and healthier interactions with one another, though they had yet to reach that stage and seemed to be in this awkward phases where none of them knew exactly how to talk to one another.

Or maybe it was just him. Weiss and Winter seemed to talk easily to each other well enough, and while he could have conversations with Weiss, with some struggle, talk between him and Winter was of a much more difficult manner, since neither one of them seemed to really know where to start there.

Hopefully these brunches Klein had suggested should help, having the three of them get together every once and awhile to talk about their weeks and breaks some ice between them. It could work, he thought, after all there were only three of them here, and in his experiences, more than three members of his family tended to end in arguments and yelling.

On the table, Weiss' scroll buzzed, slightly moving as it vibrated, while she gave an annoyed huff and chose to ignore it. That in itself isn't anything noteworthy, but what was that this was not the first time this had happened, and it had been going off nearly every minute since they sat down to eat.

“Aren't you going to answer that?” Winter asked, having taken a sip of her tea.

“It's only Ruby,” Weiss said with a roll of her eyes.

“Ruby? Whitley asked.

“Yes, Ruby. She's one of my teammates, you've met her before.”

Whitely tried to think of the faces of Weiss' friends, but while he knew what they looked liked, he couldn't say he ever got their names. “The one with the arm?” he tried.

“No, that's Yang. She's the one in the red hood.”

Oh yes, the one who crashed the sandwich tray last week. Wait...

“So the one named Ruby Rose is the one in the red cape?”

“Yes, what about it?”

“Doesn't that seem a bit on the nose?”

Weiss Schnee picked up her snowy-colored napkin and laid it across her lap, to protect her white dress from any stains or spills. “Of course not.”

“What does she keeping texting you about?” Winter asked.

“Well...” Weiss said, only to pause, looking as though she was not certain how to explain herself. “Okay, so you two know about the recent... situation with our parents, correct?”

A heavy tension suddenly appeared over the table, and Whitley felt his appetite vanish.. Everything between his father and mother, his father in particular, filled with him complicated feeling and emotions that he didn't know how to place or work through. So the best course of actions on dealing with them was to ignore them and hope that they somehow worked themselves out when he's not paying attention to them. Yes, that seemed like a good idea.

“Well, as we both know, Mom recently took up to dating again and-”

Winter made a gagging noise.

“Could we not talk about that please?” Winter said, putting a fist to her mouth, her skin taking on a slightly green complexion to it.

“Yes, I feel like there are other things we can talk about,” Whitley added, wishing the subject could be about anything else than this. The thousands of  square miles of barren icy desert outside the city would be a more interesting thing to talk about in his opinion.

“Are you going to do that every time someone brings up Qrow?” Weiss asked, glaring at Winter. “I would think you would be a bit more mature about this, at least more so than Whitley”

Yes, Qrow. That ragged-looking man. Whitley didn't care for him.

Wait.

“What do you mean more mature than me?” Whitley asked, staring daggers at Weiss, who only seemed to grow in annoyance with her sibling.

“Okay, listen,” Winter said, interrupting anything Weiss could have said to defend herself. “I'm happy for Mom wanting to move on, I really am, and while she would have to dig through the bottom of the barrel worst than Jacques, there are still plenty of options better than Qrow Branwen!”

“You're over exaggerating,” Weiss said, taking a sip of her coffee.

“I am not! He is an uncouth, vulgar, vagabond! Every encounter I have had with the man has ended with me wanting to stab him in the throat!”

“That's a bit violent, don't you think.”

“Also! He's a drunk! That's the last thing Mom needs right now!”

“Actually, Ruby told me Qrow hasn't had a single drop since we got to Atlas, and Yang says that he wants to take her to one of the meetings he's been going to.”

“Weiss, while Winter and I have some obvious reservations about Mother and Qrow being... together.” Again, Winter gagged, harsher this time, like she was fighting to keep her food down. “Why don't you seem to bothered by this prospect?”

“Because unlike you two, I can be a mature adult when it comes to such matters.”

“Right,” Winter said, barely under her breath, like she was trying to hide her comment, but didn't want to do it very well.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Weiss shot back.

“You know what.”

Whitley sighed, feeling a headache coming on. “So anyway, the texts from Ruby, what does that have to do with Mother and Qrow?” Winter heaved again.

With a sigh, Weiss picked up her scroll and began to flick her thumb across the screen. “Every since they started dating-” hruk “Ruby has gotten a bit to exuberant over the idea of them together, the point where she has completely gotten ahead of herself and wants them to get married so we can be cousins.”

Winter dropped her spoon, and with sluggish movement pushed her omelet to the center of the table. “I'm done, I can't stomach anything else right now.”

To a degree, he shared the sentiment.

Weiss continued, ignoring Winter. “For the last week she has much of sent me more than a hundred texts, about things like Cousin Activities, and Cousin Weekends, and has even gone as far as to threaten me with matching t-shirts.” With a sigh Weiss continued to scroll through the long list of messages she seemed to have been sent. “There's even something here about-wait, what?”

“Is something the matter?”

“Yeah, for some reason she's talking about Jaune being my brother-in-law? What?”

“Seriously? This again?” Winter groaned.

“Jaune?” Whitley asked.

“He's the blond guy with the sword.”

Oh yes, the one who knocked over the drink tray last week.

“The one with the bad haircut.”

“It's not a bad haircut, I rather like it.” Winter continued. “A while ago, he and I were on a team to eliminate a grimm that had been stalking an outpost in the tundra. A Krampus to be precise.”

A Krampus? Oh yes, their grandfather had first gotten his name as a Hunstman for killing a particularity dangerous one that had been known to target the children of Mantle when he was a young man.

“Well we were separated from the rest of the team and ended up fighting it on our own, and while he had several close calls in the end we managed to kill it.

“So can you summon it now?”

“No, Jaune got the killing blow on it. Anyway, the weather had gotten so bad by that point and turned into a blizzard, we were forced to take shelter in a way-station until it had subsided. We spent a couple of hours together alone and well, he's not half bad.”

“So you're dating him then?”

“I suppose,” Winter said, averting her eyes while a slight red came across her cheeks.

“Wait, you're dating someone?” Weiss asked, and Whitley could only look on in confusion why already Winter was looking frustrated.  “Since when?”

“I don't understand, what's going on?” he asked.

Winter could only groan, dragging a hand across her face before she looked Weiss hard in the eyes. “Weiss.”

“Yes?”

“Me, Winter.”

“Okay?”

“And Jaune, your friend.”

“What about him?”

“We. Are. Dating.”

For several seconds, Weiss had this odd look on her face, like she was trying to figure out a difficult puzzle that kept cheating without her knowing. “I don't understand.”

“See!” Winter cried out. “She's been like this whole time! It's like she's physically incapable of comprehending that I am dating Jaune!”

“Who is dating Jaune?” Weiss asked, clueless.

“Me! Weiss! I am dating Jaune! We have gone on three dates so far. Just last night, we spent an hour walking around the mall downtown. We had ice cream and then made out.”

“Okay, you're saying a lot of words that I individually understand, but the order you are saying them just doesn't seem right to me. Winter, are you having a stroke?”

“No I am not having a stroke!”

“Wait,” Whitley said after a thought. “You're dating? Since when do you have time for a social life?”

“Shut up,” Winter snapped. “Also, just what the hell does Ruby mean by 'brother-in-law'? We are not getting married! Marriage isn't even on the table yet!”

“Yet?”

“Shut up again!” She turned back to Weiss. “First of all, you're friend is way over the line here, and she-”

Suddenly, Winter frozen, her words and anger dying as quickly as they had come, and her expression had shifted into something akin to fear from an unwelcome realization.

“Winter?” Weiss asked, and Whitley contemplated poking her with a fork.

Winter next words came out weary, and defeated. “I just recalled some insults Qrow once threw at me regarding our mother, and it occurred to me he could actually carry some of those out.” Without explanation, not that he felt that such a thing were needed, Winter pushed her chair out and slowly made her way to the door, her forming retreating into the hallway beyond.

“Is she going to be okay?” he asked.

“Why wouldn't she be?” Weiss said, reaching forward to take Winter's small bowl of melon slices.

There was then a loud, and muffled scream of anguish from down the hall.

“Right...” Whitley then took the remains of Winter's omelet, knowing she would not return for it.

000

Please be well,

Mrfipp

[merrybrides]

How To Plan A Summer Wedding

The Skinny on Summer Weather

Slap on that sunblock, because in nearly all parts of the country you can usually count on temps in the 70s (or higher!)—especially in the dog days of summer, like late July and August.

While sweet summertime means blue skies and balmy breezes most of the time, there are still some weather concerns to be aware of. For example, many east coast areas can experience torrential rain in the form of thunderstorms—soooo not ideal for an outdoor wedding! Then there's the south and southwest, where the thermometer can get up to 100 degrees fahrenheit or higher. An outdoor ceremony in this heat gives new meaning to the phrase, sweating for the wedding.

And, while less likely, there's the potential for natural disasters that can occur in the summer months. On the west coast, drought conditions frequently cause large-scale wildfires that bring hazy skies, poor air quality, and even evacuations. The opposite side of the country comes with the nasty Atlantic hurricane season, which begins June 1 and peaks in late August.

So…to play it safe, know what weather is forecasted for your wedding day, make sure to give your out-of-town guests whatever wardrobe tips they need to be prepared, and always—we repeat, ALWAYS—have a bad-weather backup plan. Just. in. case.

Summer Holidays

Besides fabulous weather, summer seems to be the least limiting in terms of holidays and other potential hiccups. While you won't have to compete with many major holidays, the months of June through July are some of the most popular times to get married AND go on vacation. You'll want to keep your guests' wallets in mind by giving them plenty of time to book flights and plan travel. Trust us, they'll thank you.

Here are a few dates to keep in mind:

Memorial Day – Always a Monday in May (Technically this is a spring holiday, but widely considered the unofficial start of summer)

Father's Day – Always a Sunday in June

Independence Day – Always July 4th, but days off can vary

Labor Day – Always a Monday in September

Hint: Save-the-dates for destination weddings typically get sent out 8–12 months in advance, while save-the-dates for local weddings can be sent out closer to 4 months in advance.

Summer Wedding Pros & Cons

There are so many advantages to getting married in the summer:

Typically gorgeous weather. Break out those sunnies!

There are fewer holidays to work around. Plus, it's widely considered PC to have an Independence Day or Labor Day weekend wedding.

The "Yes" RSVPs are more likely to roll in. Guests are often more willing and excited to take time off work and travel to a summer wedding!

Your outdoor venue and location choices are wide-open. Think barns, mountaintops and, of course, toes-in-the-sand beach weddings. The choices are endless!

However, there are a fair number of disadvantages to be aware of:

Summer is the most popular season to tie the knot. Venues and vendors often up their prices during this time, especially on weekends. Keep an eye out for peak-season rates when planning your wedding budget.

Destination wedding and honeymoon prices are also hitting their peak as most Americans book their vacation during the summer months.

Your favorite venues and vendors could be booked up months to years in advance for popular summer wedding dates.

Summer Color Palette

Unlike other times of the year and their seasonal hues, the sunshine-filled days of summer complement nearly any wedding color palette. While you'll typically see bright colors at summer weddings, there's no need to shy away from deep blues, rich grays, or even black. Don't be afraid to think outside the box when it comes to putting together your own colors!

Bridesmaids and Groomsmen

When it comes to dressing your bridal party, comfort needs to be at the top of the list. If you're tying the knot in the Deep South in late July, chances are your 'maids and groomsmen won't appreciate being buried under layers of fabric and accessories. Consider shorter dresses or lighter fabrics, like organza or charmeuse.

For groomsmen, you'll want to be extra certain you won't be causing sweat overload before the ceremony has even started! Stick with lighter suit jackets and vests—or ditch the jackets altogether. Look into a variety of different hot-weather-friendly looks like khaki, rolled sleeves, suspenders, or even shorts and flip-flops!

Working With What's In Season

When you buy what's in season, you get food and flowers at the peak of their supply when costs are normally lower. Plus, when they're locally grown they don't need to be shipped halfway around the globe. So not only do you save money, but you also reduce your carbon footprint. Win-win.

—Summer Wedding Food—

Much like spring, summer is peak harvesting season for fruits and vegetables. Summer's sunshine means there's no excuse to serve food that doesn't include a little color! As for veggies, the sky's the limit as to what's in season: green beans, cucumbers, eggplant, peas, and corn—just to name a few.

While fruit harvests are bountiful during this time of year, the weather can affect when they're ripest. Be on the lookout for melons, peaches, plums, raspberries, and blackberries because all of these are at their juiciest in the summer months. Fortunately, the abundance of produce in the summer can lead to lower prices, which is especially great if you're planning a farm-to-table wedding!

—Summer Wedding Flowers—

No matter where you are in the country, it seems that beautiful blooms are popping up all over the place. There are literally hundreds of options, but here are a few of our favorite summertime flowers:

Sunflowers. This classic is the poster child of summer, but we love how they add a pop of bright yellow to any bouquet.

Hydrangeas. These fluffy blossoms are summer staples that come in a wide variety of pretty colors.

Calla Lilies make a statement when bundled in a bouquet, and add a classy accent to any summer arrangement.

Amaranthus. From deep reds to fresh greens, this rope-like accent flower is perfect for boho or beach weddings, or even a more elegant affair!

Cacti. Use succulents like aloe and you can't go wrong.

Eucalyptus is a floral trend we're seeing year-round, and we're not complaining!

Pro Tip: Since some flowers are more prone to wilting in the summer heat than others, be sure to double-check with your florist before committing to any one flower or greenery.

Summer Catering Trends

With a cornucopia of fresh fruits and veggies to choose from, you may have already started your search for the perfect hand-lettered sign to direct your guests to the salad bar. Not so fast! There are oh-so-many ways to pay homage to the tastes of the season, not all of which involve plants. If your personal faves include poultry, beef, and seafood, they can easily be incorporated into lighter versions of classics. Or, consider fun, non-traditional alternatives like tapas (Spanish small plates), a festive taco bar, or even good old-fashioned barbecue!

Your reception wouldn't be complete without a summer-inspired dessert! How about wine-flavored sorbet, yummy ice cream, or other frozen treats like snow cones, granita, or gelato to cool your guests down on those warm summer days! Or, what about a classic summer staple like cobbler or pie? There are so many options to choose from, so go wild!

Summer Wedding Cake Trends

Play with light and refreshing flavors like lemon, raspberry, and coconut instead of rich, fudgy chocolate—unless that's your thing, of course! If you're not into the "naked" cake trend, ice your cake with summery frostings that showcase coconut, cherry, or Tahitian vanilla. Dress it up with sprigs of lavender or rosemary, some gold leaf, or a pretty ombré pattern. The latest trend we're partial to? Colorful brush strokes paired with bright blooms. You could even ask if your baker is willing to collab with your florist to match your cake to your bouquet! Your wedding cake—assuming you even have one—should be as unique as you are!

Summer-Inspired Wedding Favors

Your guests will no doubt appreciate customized hand fans to keep cool or neon-colored sunnies to block summer's harsh rays. Or, hit up Old Navy's $1 Flip-Flop Sale to stock up on cheap sandals for tired feet to change into. You can also pick up miniature bottles of rosé, tiny potted succulents, homemade jam, and even travel-sized bottles of sunscreen with a custom sticker slapped on. And if you're really on a budget, how about some fresh seasonal fruit for your guests to enjoy?

Summer Signature Cocktails

If you're serving cocktails on your big day, there's no better time to get creative than during the summer! Sparkling wines, champagne spritzers, and fruity cocktails are just the tip of the iceberg. Hit up your bartender (or just the drink-maker at your fave hangout spot!) for custom cocktails inspired by you and your fiancé. Refreshing berry mojitos, vodka-infused Arnold Palmers, boozy sangria, and mango bellinis—oh, yes! Just be sure to have water available for your guests at all times to keep them hydrated. Drink up!

[iandeleonwrites]

Ian’s Case: A Personal Statement for Grad School Admission

Personal Statement, Ian Deleón

“He felt something strike his chest, and that his body was being thrown swiftly through the air, on and on, immeasurably far and fast, while his limbs were gently relaxed.”

It was more than a decade ago when I first read those words. Written by the American author Willa Cather, Paul’s Case: A Study in Temperament has always felt to me like an intimate account of my own life penned by a woman one hundred years in the past. 

That is a feeling which makes me proud; that my personal whims, fears, and desires, could find their echo long ago in a story about a young man and his pursuit of a meaningful life. Because of it, I felt a pleasing sense of historicity at a time when I was struggling so much with my own. 

I grew up in Miami Beach. Literally not more than a block away from water for most of my life. My father had emigrated from Cuba with his family in 1980. My mother had come on a work visa from Brazil a few years later. They met on the beach, had an affair, and I came into the world in May of 1987. 

My life was marked with in betweenness from the very beginning. My parents’ relationship did not last long, so I grew up traveling between houses. I had two families. I was American, but I was also Cuban and Brazilian. I even have a Brazilian passport. I spoke three languages fluently, but I couldn’t dance salsa or samba. I felt at home with the working class immigrants and people of color in my neighborhoods, but I often had to work hard to prove I wasn’t just some gringo with a knack for foreign tongues.  

[A quick note on Paul’s Case––If it happens that the reader is not familiar with the short story, let me briefly summarize it here:  A disenchanted youth in turn of the century Pittsburgh feels increasingly alienated from his schoolmates, his teachers and his family. His only comfort is his position as an usher at Carnegie Hall, where he loses himself in the glamour of the art life. Having no drive or desire to become an artist, however, the dandy Paul makes a spur of the moment criminal decision and elopes to New York City. There, he is able to live out his fantasies in a financial masquerade for about a week’s time, until the authorities back home finger him for monetary theft. Learning that his father is en route to the city to collect him, Paul travels to the countryside and flings himself in front of a speeding train, musing about the elegant brevity of winter flowers.]

When I first encountered Cather’s short story I was blown away by the parallels I saw between my own life and Paul’s. In 2005, fresh out of high school, I was living mostly with my father as my mother had relocated to faraway West Palm Beach. I was an usher at the local concert hall, a job I cherished enough to volunteer my time for free. I became entranced by the world of classical music, opera, theater, and spectacle––often showing up for work early and roaming the performance spaces, probing high and low like some kind of millenial phantom. 

In school, however, I had no direction, no plan. I had good enough grades, but no real motivation, and worst of all, I thought, no discernible talent. I probably resented my father for not being cultured enough to teach me about music, theater, and the arts. No one in my family had ever even been to a museum, or sat before a chamber orchestra. And it didn’t seem to matter to them either, they could somehow live blissfully without it. 

Well I couldn’t. I began to mimic the fervor with which Paul immersed himself in that world, while also exhibiting the same panic at the thought of not being able to sustain my treasured experiences without a marketable contribution to them. But here is where Paul and I take divergent paths. 

I was attending the Miami Dade Honors College, breezing my way towards an associate’s degree. I took classes in Oceanography, Sociology, Creative Writing, Acting and African Drumming. I was experimenting and falling in love with everything. 

But it was my Creative Writing professor, Michael Hettich, who really encouraged the development of my nascent writing talent. Up until that point my ideas only found their expression through class assignments, particularly book reports and essays on historical events. My sister had always felt I had a way with words, but I just attributed this to growing up in a multicultural environment amongst a diversity of native languages.  

As a result of that encouragement I began to write poetry, little songs and treatments for film ideas based on the short stories we were talking about in class. Somehow, thanks to those lines of poetry and a few amateur photographic self portraits, I was admitted to the Massachusetts College of Art & Design for my BFA program. 

There, I attended classes in Printmaking, Paper Making, Performance Art, Video Editing, and Glass Blowing. I was immersed in culture, attending lectures and workshops, adding new words to my vocabulary: “New Media” and “gestalt”. I saw my first snowfall. I had the dubious honor of appearing at once not Hispanic and yet different enough. I was overwhelmed. I felt increasingly disenchanted and out of place in New England, yet my work flourished and grew stronger. 

It was during this time that I developed a passion for live performance and engagement with an audience. I also worked with multi-channel video and sculptural installations. Always, I commented on my family history, grappling with it, the emigrations and immigrations. I even returned to those early short stories from Miami Dade, one time doing an interpretive movement piece based on The Yellow Wallpaper. Most often I talked about my father. He was even in a few of my projects. He was a good sport, though we still had the occasional heated political disagreement. We never held any grudges, and made up again rather quickly. It would always be that way, intense periods of warming and cooling. A tropical temperament, I suppose. 

I continued to take film-related classes in Boston, but my interests gradually became highly abstracted, subtle, and decidedly avant-garde. I had no desire to work in a coherently narrative medium. This would eventually change, but for now, I let my ambitions and aspirations take me where they would. 

I returned home to Miami for a spell after graduation. I traveled the world for five months after that. I moved back to Boston for another couple of years, because it was comfortable I suppose, though I was fed up with the weather. 

Finally, I wound up in NYC. Classic story: I followed a charming young woman, another performance artist as luck would have it, a writer too, and a bit of an outsider. We were quickly engaged and on the first anniversary of our meet cute we were married on a gorgeous piece of land in upstate new york, owned by an older performance-loving couple from the city. Piece of land doesn’t quite do it justice, we’re talking massive tracts, hidden acres of forest, sudden lakes, fertile fields, and precocious wildlife. As they say in the movies, it really is all about location, location, location. 

Nearly all of our significant personal and professional achievements in the subsequent years have centered around this bucolic homestead. After meeting, courting, researching and eventually getting married there, we soon decided we would stage our most ambitious project to date in this magical space––we would shoot...a movie.

We hit upon the curious story of an eighteenth century woman in England called Mary Toft. Dear Mary became famous for a months-long ruse that involved her supposed birthing of rabbits, and sometimes cats. The small town hoax ballooned into a national controversy when it was eventually exposed by some of the king’s physicians. My wife and I were completely enthralled by this story and its contemporary implications. Was Mary wholly complicit in the mischievous acts, or was she herself a sort of duped victim...of systematic abuse at the hands of her family, her husband, her country? 

We soon found a way to adapt and give this tale a modern twist that recast Mary as a woman of color alone in the woods navigating a host of creepy men, a miscarriage, and a supernatural rabbit. 

Over the course of nine months, our idea gestated and began taking the form of a short film screenplay. This was something neither of us had done or been adequately trained to do before. But we knew we wanted it to be special, it was our passion project. We knew we didn’t want it to look amateurish––we were too old for that. So we took out a loan, hired an amazing camera crew, and in three consecutive days in the summer of 2017 we filmed our story, Velvet Cry. It was the most difficult thing either of us had undertaken...including planning our nuptial ceremony around our difficult families. 

It was an incredible experience––intoxicating––also quite maddening and stressful. But it was all worth it. Because of our work schedules, it took us another year to finish post production on the film, but throughout that process, I knew I had found my calling. I would be a writer, and I would be a Director. 

Perhaps I had been too afraid to dream the big dream before. Perhaps I had lacked the confidence, or simply, the life experience to tackle the complexity of human emotions, narratives, and interactions––but no longer. This is what I wanted to do and I had to find a way to get better at doing it. 

In the intervening months, I have set myself on a course to develop my writing abilities as quickly as I could in anticipation of this application process. I know I have some latent talent, but it has been a long time since I’ve been in an academic setting, and in any case, I have never really attempted to craft drama on this scale before. 

I’ve read many books, listened to countless interviews, attended online classes, and most importantly, written my heart out since relocating down the coast to the small college town of Gainesville in Central Florida with my wife in June of 2018. It was through a trip to her alma mater of Hollins University that we learned about the co-ed graduate program in screenwriting a few months ago. After all the debt I accrued in New England, I didn’t think I would ever go back to college, though I greatly enjoyed the experience. But what we learned about the program filled me with confidence and a desire to share in the wonderful legacy of this school that my wife is always gushing about. 

Our Skype conversation with Tim Albaugh proved to be the deciding factor. I knew instantly that I wanted to be a part of anything that he was involved with, and I had the feeling that my ideas would truly be nurtured and harnessed into a craft––something tangible I could be proud of and use to propel my career. 

I continue to mine my childhood and adolescence in Miami for critical stories and characters, situations that shed light on my own personal experience of life. I’ve found myself coming back to Paul’s Case. No longer caught up in the character’s stagnant, brooding longings for a grander life, I’m now able to revisit the story, appreciating the young man’s anxieties while evaluating how it all went so fatally wrong for Paul. There was no reason to despair, no cause for lost hope. I would take the necessary steps to become the artist I already know myself to be. The screenplay I am submitting as my writing sample is a new adaptation of this story, making Paul my own, and giving him a little bit of that South Florida flavor. 

I will close by reiterating how I have visited Hollins, and heard many a positive review from the powerful women I know who have attended college there. As a graduate student, I know Hollins can help me to become a screenwriter, to become a filmmaker. This is the only graduate program to which I am applying––I have a very good feeling about all this.

I want to be a Hollins girl. 

[filianoctis]

Thoughts on a Marriage.

My partner (of nearly a decade now. WOOHOO!) and I got engaged on a fiery hot day in March. Necessary Disclaimers: The lock down has been on the whole deeply kind to me and my family. There is enough food, water, cold air, and medication. We are doing a LOT better than a lot of people. And I haven't felt cabin fever in the nearly six weeks of knowing nothing except the walls of my tiny house in a quiet lane of a small city in India. In fact, this is the only way in which my much abused, slightly disabled body has managed a break--an actual break-- in more than four years. But even as my illnesses ebb a little with all the naps I have been taking, and my family finds itself in a good place, I continue to be in a long-distance relationship with her for the fourth year in a row. Just because we are good at it (and are deeply relieved by that) doesn't mean we like it. And of late, probably because I am beginning to resurface from the dark pit of a combination of diseases, it keeps getting harder. So, I am glad she is well, and we talk on WhatsApp and share stories and books and talk into the night, giggling sometimes like we are 15 instead of nearly 30; I am glad that we know to work around bad days, and familial crises and illnesses by the score. But, if I had an uninterrupted house arrest with her by my side for even a week, I would go to hell and back to get it. The yearning is a howling pit today, and no matter what books I read or writing I do, I seem to have no defense to it. Worse? I am glad it is happening. As that sci-fi TV show's Cop-Dad said, "The hurt is good." But all my defenses are low, and any romance I read, write, or create a soundtrack about echoes with how much I miss being married. So, even as I reel cackling from fanfic of people getting together. I want to talk about the DELIGHT and disaster that was us getting engaged. Hyderabad is a lovely city to live in for eight months of the year, in terms of the weather. But for the remaining four, it is a furnace of heatwaves and a rocky pit of dehydration. One afternoon, it was too hot to eat or do anything vaguely resembling productivity, so we lay on a reed mat on the floor of our hostel room after a lunch of (probably) watermelon juice and buttermilk. I was 24, she was 24 and four months, just beginning to settle down in our doctoral degrees. We had already been together for four years by then (yes, we met as baby undergraduate and barely postgraduate). We talked lightly of plans for the future, the hows and whats and whens of possibilities. I mentioned that I always thought I'd date someone I knew I could be close friends with, and then, in a few years, if it managed to work out, I'd like a commitment ceremony. It didn't matter that we were/are in a homophobic country with homosexuality still deeply decriminalized. It was just something I wanted. It wasn't about the size of the banquet or the hundreds of relatives who could fuss over me for days. I wanted to make the commitment, and I wanted to do it in a small, intimate way. If we were legal we would sign on a paper and declare it to each other. Since we couldn't do that, we'd have to turn to our religion and find the smallest, simplest ceremony that could be meaningful to both of us. It wouldn't change anything, practically speaking, (Did I mention I was/am the most horrifically resourceful Slytherin when I commit myself to a cause? In our relationship, she got the toaster, and I wanted us to get a decent chance. Homophobic country meant closeting except in front of a few close friends, so I decided we needed to move in together so that we could get 'one' lone space to figure out what we could be to each other). So, we were already sharing a life, a room, a kitchen (IN the room, both of us lived off our stipends). It was just important for me to be able to say it, make that promise. (It was a wedding fever like no other, and the moment we were done with the ceremony, I emerged, happy and secure that-- patriarchal homophobes or not--I too had a wedding in the exact way I wanted. Neither of us or our best friends could wipe the smile off our faces that day. BUT. That's a story for a different time.) She nodded along, and we moved on to talking about something else (about how both of us planned to support our baby sisters' education or something similar). Five minutes into it, she suddenly pauses, turns around, and says, "WAIT, DID WE JUST GET ENGAGED?!" I remember how badly my ribs hurt after I was done laughing. She DID get a kiss, but a chaste one, it was awfully hot to kiss for too long anyway. I miss being able to hold her hand or watch her smile whenever I feel like. I won't back from my responsibilities as a sudden materfamilias of a family of orphans. But every step I have taken in the last four years has been a step towards being able to share our lives and grow old together like we instinctively wanted, despite assurances of how we didn't want it to become too much or coming on too strong for either of us. Who were we kidding? We were and are that exact boring couple I have always known us to be, the kind that never gets bored with each other's voice (or silence) and drinks four types of tea. She is still a bitch to buy things for. I am still a bitch to feed. Here's thinking of her, and about sharing a household, once this is behind us. I will NOT real Atwood's Habitation and weep. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian's child-rearing skills make a happier reading. That way, I get to tease her later about her sad penchant for grumpy gay boys full of manpain. I wish @walburgablack'd treat this post as flowers.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Keep My Heart Part 18

Summary: Molly has spent most of her adult life coping with her chronic illness. Everything seemed so typical and mundane until Chris Evans stumbles into her life. She thought she would just wait for her premature death but he gives her a will to keep living.

Chapter Summary: When there’s sadness there’s hope.

Warnings: Hospitals, grief, angst, but I promise there’s fluff in there

         The sun was filtering into the hospital room, making it just a few degrees warmer than it usually was. I basked in the warmth, curled up close to Chris who was half resting on the bed with me. He couldn’t completely fit though because he was still sporting his Captain America body.

           “Any good news?” I looked over his shoulder as I saw him scrolling through some news articles.

           “There was a baby tiger born at the zoo. Other than that it’s pretty rough out there.”

           “Hm…sometimes it’s good to be away from it.”

           He set his phone down for a minute and kissed my temple. “How are you feeling?”

           “Pretty much the same,” I admitted. There was no use in lying to him about my pain. I was already in the hospital long-term; there wasn’t much else he could do.

           He sighed. “It’s going to be okay.” He promised.

           That was all he really could say to me. I was sure he was worried just like everyone else was. But he didn’t want to show it. If anything, he was just trying to convince himself that it would be okay. I wasn’t ready to die. But if I was going to, I wanted to know he would be all right.

           “Chris…we should talk about worst case scenario, just in case,” I said quietly.

           His face twitched a little bit as he shook his head. “Worst case scenario we just get you out of here later than we would like to. You’re going to get a donor and the surgery will go perfectly.”

           I swallowed and looked down at my hands. “And what if it doesn’t? There’s no guarantee…”

           “You’re in the best care here. The doctors are experienced and will make sure you’re okay.” His level of denial was even worse than mine was.

           “I know but there’s always that chance.” I reminded him. “Just like any surgery, even if we do find a donor.”

           “Molly, I don’t really want to talk about that.” He mumbled and rubbed small circles over my hand with his thumb. He usually did it to comfort me but this time, I realized it was to comfort him.

           “We need to.” I urged quietly. “Because if something happens I don’t want you to be unprepared. I’ve already talked to my mom about it and I think we should talk to your family about it too. They’re involved now so they need to be in the know too.”

           Chris pursed his lips. I was afraid that if I kept pushing I would just drive him away. But I also knew it was important. The last thing I wanted was to leave him in such a state that he couldn’t move on. “I just don’t think it’s necessary when everything is going to work out.”

           “I believe that it will too,” I said even though I had doubts. “But there needs to be a plan for both cases.”

           He took a deep breath. “Okay, but it’s never going to happen.”

           I took that as the go-ahead to keep talking. “I discussed some things with my mom about funeral arrangements. You don’t have to worry about anything. I said I wanted my ashes spread in the ocean, so if you wanted to do that.”

           He continued taking slow breaths. “Okay.”

           “I just want you to be happy, no matter what happens. So…if I don’t make it for whatever reason in the future, I want you to be able to move on. I would love if you fell in love again.”

           He shook his head. “Stop, I can’t do this.” He whispered with tears in his eyes. “Molly, please.”

           “Okay…okay, I’m sorry.” I didn’t want to hurt him further so I backed off. I swallowed and rested my cheek on his shoulder. “Just know that I’ll always love you.”

           He closed his eyes for a moment as he regrouped. “I’m sorry I can’t talk about it.” He replied shakily. “I know you want to help but I can’t even think about that possibility right now.”

           “I’m sorry. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. And I feel like…if something happened and you didn’t see it coming, that would be hurting you in the worst possible way.”

           “It wouldn’t be your fault.” He opened his eyes and kissed my hair. “None of this is your fault. My feelings about it are about the situation, not you.”

           “I’m the reason you’re in this situation though.” I pointed out. “My condition…”

           “It’s not like you purposefully had this happen. I fell in love with you but I’d never take that back.”

           “I wouldn’t either.” I agreed and cuddled close to him. “I wouldn’t either.”

============

           I was finally allowed to go out and get some fresh air in the hospital courtyard. It was unseasonably warm and I just wanted to get out of the hospital for a short while. Even if that meant I had to be in a wheelchair. I sulked about it a little, I was confident that I could make the journey down but Chris always followed the doctor’s orders.

           As we walked down the hallways, I kept looking back up at him and making faces.

           He smiled and shook his head. “You’re not walking, I promised I would make sure you were safe.”

           “Goody-two-shoes.” I pouted but smiled slightly.

           I sighed softly when I felt the outside air for the first time in nearly a week. Since it was just March, there were barely any flowers growing yet. But it was just nice to be outside. Chris and I could walk to the Public Gardens once spring was in full swing again. Of course, that really depended on my health.

           Chris stopped by a bench and helped me stand up so I could sit back down again. “Feel good to be out?”

           “Yes.” I smiled. “Maybe next time we can go get something to eat or coffee down the street. I’d even go in the stupid wheelchair if it meant getting out of that room.”

           He chuckled. “I know it sucks. But it’s going to take time. We have a lot to look forward to.”

           “Warm weather.”

           “Mhm, flowers.”

           I nodded. “I can’t wait to see Dodger again.”

           “He misses you a lot.”

           “Spring Training.”

           “Oh yeah, we’re definitely going to a Sox game once you’re better.”

           “And Patriots games.”

           He grinned and took my hand. “Our wedding.”

           I raised an eyebrow. “Our wedding? When did I agree to marry you? I don’t remember that.” I teased.

           “Well, I might be doing it out of order.” He got off the bench and down onto one knee in front of me.

           “Chris…”

           He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring. “Molly, I really don’t care what the future might hold for us. I just want to spend the rest of our time together. I don’t want to miss the opportunity of making you mine. I don’t want to have any regrets. Even if I have to marry you in this hospital, I would. So, will you marry me?”

           I wanted to tell him to go find someone who was one hundred percent guaranteed to make it to the altar. But I realized there was no guarantee for any of us. Tomorrow wasn’t a promise. What was the use in wasting time? Even if I died the day after our wedding at least I had that time married to him. And I realized that was his point all along. Our days were always numbered as human beings. Any time spent with him as his fiancee or wife was time well spent. I couldn’t feel guilty for loving him anymore.

           I felt tears in my eyes as I nodded. “Yes…yes of course,” I whispered and reached down to hug him.

           “I love you.” He whispered. “Thank you so much.”

           “I should be thanking you.” I laughed softly.

           He withdrew slightly and slid the ring on my finger. “Is that a good fit? I asked your mom for your ring size.”

           I looked at the ring and felt overwhelmed with all kind of emotions. “It’s fine, I love it.”

           He smiled and stood up to kiss me.

Masterpost

[crippledboyfriend]

Family

About 7.5k, Yuuri takes Viktor and Yurio to spend some time with his family in Japan, but Viktor ends up with a fever and they receive a phone call about Nikolai’s worsening condition that makes them start to regret leaving Russia.

Yuuri pretend to ignore what Viktor was clearly doing as he sat his shot glass down next to Yurio. He was sure that the conversation taking place in Russian was something along the lines of,

“Nobody’s looking, you can drink this real quick.”

True, Yuuri’s mom was up, his sister was preoccupied with her phone and his dad was too rowdy to notice after the drinks they’d already had, but it made Yuuri a little uncomfortable. Sure, it was Viktor’s choice, and in his country Yurio could drink as much as Viktor let him, but his family put more of a priority to abiding Japanese laws.

Yuuri looked back as he heard Yurio place the shot glass back down next to Viktor, a grimace on his face. Viktor laughed, and the laughing quickly turned into coughing. He covered his mouth and tried to keep the coughs from knocking him over.

“Viccan~” Hiroko cooed, rubbing the tops of Viktor’s shoulders as she went by. “That cough his horrible!”

“It’s mostly just when I laugh,” Viktor reasoned as he pulled himself together.

“Let me put some honey in your drink,” Hiroko offered. “That’ll feel better on your throat.”

“Viktor, have you had tamagozake?” suggested Toshio.

“No,” said Viktor. “Is that with egg?”

“Yeah, yeah!” Toshio’s hand knocked into the table. “You’ve got it. Hiroko, make him some of that afterwards.”

“Yes, yes~” Hiroko called as she got the honey out from the kitchen and mixed a little drink in a shot glass.

“I’m not feeling too bad,” Viktor continued to promise. “Maybe I’m starting to catch a cold, but I think it might be the change in weather.”

“I hope it’s not a cold,” Hiroko handed Viktor a shot glass and he immediately tossed it back and handed it back to her, ready to try the tamagozake next.

“Oh,” Hiroko was a bit surprised with Viktor’s forwardness. “I guess I’ll get to work. It’ll take a few minutes.”

“Viktor’s been having horrible allergies since we landed here.” Yuuri explained. “Sometimes it can give him a bit of a cough. As long as it doesn’t get worse, he’s probably fine.”

“Aww,” Mari looked back and forth between Yuuri to Viktor, making Yuuri blush.

“You two are so married!” Mari teased. “You know so much about each other and how you both work.”

“We do, don’t we?” Viktor grinned.

Viktor insisted on coming downstairs with Yuuri in one of the inn’s robes and his glasses.

“Yuuri, ask them if the pollen count is high or something,” Viktor requested. “Or maybe it’s the grass.”

“Okay, I will,” Yuuri rubbed Viktor’s shoulders as he walked just slightly behind him.

“Hey, Mom, did you hear anything on the weather about allergens?” Yuuri asked in Japanese. “Viktor’s worried about the pollen. He’s a bit of a mess.”

Hiroko took one look at Viktor’s pale, tired face and knew it wasn’t because of the pollen.

“It’s not any worse than it’s been all week,” Hiroko spoke in English for them both to understand. “I thought you were getting sick.”

Yuuri thought so, too. Viktor’s sneezes sounded different that morning. They were wetter, rougher.

Hiroko reached up and felt Viktor’s forehead.

“He’s not super warm or anything,” Yuuri explained. “He might have a little fever, but that’s it.”

“I’m going to take it slow this morning, but maybe I’ll still go out!” Viktor smiled. “I think I’ll feel better after eating the breakfast you made.”

“I can bring you breakfast in bed if you don’t feel well,” Hiroko suggested.

“You’re so nice, but I’m not that sick,” said Viktor. “I’m just catching a cold.” Viktor sat down next to Yurio at the table and pressed his napkin to his nose.

“Have you taken any medicine?” asked Toshio.

“Yes,” Viktor smiled, his Japanese not proficient enough to go into detail. When dealing with drugs, he was most comfortable reading boxes in cyrillic.

“He had cough medicine and an extra antihistamine,” Yuuri explained.

“Did you get the thermometer while you were at it?” asked Hiroko.

“Oh, no, we didn’t take anything from the bathroom,” said Yuuri. “I had some Japanese cold medicine in our suitcase. I try to bring it when we travel if possible so we have something we’re sure we can read.”

“Smart,” said Hiroko. “That would get a little scary in other countries.”

“Exactly,” Yuuri looked down, trying not to show his embarrassment. “We didn’t want to miss breakfast since we were already running slow, but I’ll take his temperature later.”

Hiroko nodded as she put the rest of the food on the table.

“Yurio, how did you like staying in Yuuri’s childhood bedroom for a change?” Hiroko asked.

Yurio just nodded. It was a bit early for him to be able to process English. He needed to wake up more.

Although staying in his glasses seemed like a nice idea at first with the slight itch in his eyes and lazy feeling settling into his bones, Viktor soon remembered why he didn’t wear them when the weight pressing down began to hurt his sensitive nose. Looking a bit more like himself relaxing in their room, he sunk into the bed and whined into the tissue he held at his nose,

“Are you going to take my temperature?”

Yuuri gently sat down next to Viktor on the bed, not able to get a word in as Viktor rambled out questions.

“My blood pressure?” Viktor suggested, and then he held out his free wrist. “My pulse? Yuuri-“

“I am gonna take your temperature,” said Yuuri.

“You better, your mother pretty much told you to,” Viktor playfully teased. “I’ll tell on you if you won’t.” Yuuri turned red and Viktor looked into his eyes and gave him a smile.

“Play with me,” Viktor optimistically spoke in low, soft English so Yuuri would be sure nobody could here. “I don’t want to miss out on a touchy exam.”

It was a bit exciting to Yuuri that Viktor missed the kinkiness of his care, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything too lewd in his familys’ inn.

“I can strip if you need me to,” Viktor sat his tissue on the bed and undid his robe, exposing his thigh.

“Not at this house,” Yuuri finally got up the courage to speak and held up the thermometer. “This is the family thermometer. I want you to hold it in your mouth.”

“This isn’t as fun,” Viktor put the back of his hand to his forehead. “Why couldn’t I have fallen ill at home? It’s like this bug sent me back in time to where we weren’t even dating.”

Yuuri bent forward and kissed Viktor’s temple.

“I’ll make up for it,” promised Yuuri as his fiancé covered a little cough.

“You better,” Viktor pouted. “I can’t believe you’re making me go back to such a vanilla way to get through a cold—“

Yuuri popped the thermometer in Viktor’s mouth and slid down to the edge of the bed so he could rub his fiancé’s feet. Viktor relaxed, clearly enjoying the massage yet still taking out his phone to type something.

Once the thermometer beeped and showed Yuuri a temperature half a degree up from a hundred, he asked,

“What have you been looking at on your phone?”

“I’m just looking up my symptoms,”

“Hey, I banned you from doing that.” Yuuri frowned.

“It’s just for this cold,” Viktor reasoned. The couple held eye contact until Yuuri decided to nod and give Viktor the okay.

He just didn’t want either of them randomly searching for why Viktor was having such horrible aches anymore.

“Yuuri, that feels so good.” Viktor moaned as Yuuri massaged shampoo into Viktor’s head. Viktor was leaning into him, but Yuuri tried to take it innocently since he knew it was more comfortable for him.

“Quiet down, you’re embarrassing me.” Yuuri scolded with a slight blush. He tugged at Viktor’s hair, glad that this was helping with his headache. Yuuri had planned a bit of a spa day. His fiancé deserved it since he was dealing with a cold when they had the resource of the public hot springs. Viktor was usually reserved and while he was affectionate to Yuuri; he’d never publicly prove their love or say anything inherently sexual. Anything romantic he’d do could also be misconstrued as proof of their friendship when they were in Russia. Here, however, Viktor didn’t mind being a lovey-dovey couple.

“There are only a few people in here,” Viktor reasoned. “It’s not sexual at all. It’s sweet. It’s fine to be romantic here.”

“I’d still like to be a bit reserved,”

“If we were a straight couple, I’d be all over you in public,” Viktor teased with a bit of a cough. “It’s safe to have a little fun here.”

“It’s still embarrassing, Viktor,” Yuuri blushed. “This is my parents’ inn. I don’t want anyone else thinking about my romantic life.”

“I do,” Viktor sniffled. “As long as there’s no harm that can come of it.”

“And you’re the one always telling me I’m going to give us away!”

“Oh hush,” said Viktor. “I’ve said that maybe twice-when you were nearly about to kiss me, and when you damn near admitted we were getting married. Your parents don’t care what we do.”

“That’s easy for you to say!”

“I want to be like that one gay couple that was here earlier —“ Viktor insisted, reaching back and touching Yuuri’s chest. Yuuri jumped, saying,

“They just sat next to each other and talked,” said Yuuri. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m making it obvious we’re together,” Viktor dejectedly lowered his hand. “How else will anyone know?”

“We could tell those other guys were gay as is, and Viktor, nobody has to know!”

“But why not, Yuuri?” asked Viktor, sniffling as his nose ran. “I like being proud I married you.”

Yuuri brought his hands down to massage Viktor’s shoulders a bit, letting out a loving sigh. Starting a back rub would probably help make Viktor feel better. That wasn’t too embarrassingly intimate.

As it stormed outside, Viktor stayed on the couch, resting in a robe. He had a fever, but Yuuri’s family didn’t mind that he wasn’t in the habit of wearing a mask. He wasn’t feeling well, and they wanted him to be comfortable. It hadn’t even occurred to the man he was doing anything wrong in his sick daze. Yuuri sat on the couch with Viktor, wanting to snuggle, but a bit too embarrassed to do it in front of his family without the gentle urge of his fiancé reaching for him.

Hiroko wordlessly sat a trashcan on the floor next to the tissue box that rested beside Viktor. All Yuuri could do was flash her a look of,

“I’m sorry, I know his habits are gross.” But she didn’t seem to mind.

Unfortunately, the inconveniences getting in the way of their family time were only beginning. Viktor received a phone call that made him slowly sit up, supporting his achy back as he excused himself to go somewhere a bit more private although nobody could understand his Russian but Yurio.

Viktor soon returned with a look of dread.

“Yuuri, can you come speak with me?” Viktor requested.

“Yeah,” Yuuri shot up and hurried over to Viktor. They whispered to each other in a corner of the kitchen.

“Who was that?” asked Yuuri.

“Nikolai’s not doing well,” Viktor sniffled. “They just got the results of some blood work back and said that it’s looking like it’s probably some infection on top of things, but it’s making everything worse. I don’t want to worry my Yuri’s, but we can come back to Hasetsu any time for holiday…so…I think Yuri should go see him. Just in case. All of Nikolai’s symptoms are flaring and they’re not exactly sure what’s going on yet. I’d hate it if something did happen and we didn’t take it seriously.”

“What did Nikolai say?”

“I didn’t talk to him, but the receptionist said that he didn’t want us to worry and that Yuri should enjoy his vacation in Japan.”

“Alright…” Yuuri had a million thoughts racing through his head. “I agree with you. We can take Yurio back here whenever we’re not too busy practising. Let’s get the next flight to Moscow.”

“Right. Yuri will appreciate it,” said Viktor. “Even if we did want him to stay here, he’d just make everyone as miserable as him that he wasn’t with his grandpa.”

Yuuri could imagine Yurio’s backtalk if they told him that he couldn’t go visit his grandpa although his condition got worse. That could easily turn into full-fledged tantrum, and while Yuuri was raised not to give in, he quite preferred Viktor’s parenting method of picking battles. A lot of Viktor’s disciplinary decisions were ill-informed, lazy routes for a beginner, but this particular plan made a lot of sense.

Yuuri didn’t like the idea of punishing Yurio when he had a lot of outside influences making him misbehave. Even adults crack when under pressure and make bad decisions. Yurio could be forgiven after having to face forces he couldn’t control. It seemed a bit cruel to keep Yurio stuck here when they’re trying to help him grow into an adult. Viktor and Yuuri both thought he should be able to practise making important decisions with their help, and they could already tell what Yurio’s decision would be if they let him have one. It was time to plan how to get Yurio back to Moscow.

“Do you think you’re well enough to travel?” asked Yuuri, noting Viktor’s runny nose. “You’re only getting worse, and I’m not letting you come into the hospital to spread that, even if you want to go back to Russia.”

Viktor’s tired eyes softened.

“Well, Yuuri, to be honest, I really don’t want to go anywhere.” Viktor held his back and tried to walk to a tissue box as he coughed. “I don’t even want to be standing right now.” Yuuri put his arm around Viktor’s back, watching as Viktor blew his nose.

“My family will take good care of you while I take Yurio to Moscow,” Yuuri promised. “But you have to answer the phone whenever I call and talk me through everything.”

“I will, and Yurio understands the language. I’ll try to tell him to be as helpful as possible,” said Viktor, adding, “I think he’ll try hard since we’re doing him a favour, but it is a stressful situation, so go easy on him if he acts up, please?”

Yuuri kissed Viktor’s cheek.

“You think you have an announcement ready?”

Viktor sighed and touched his temples. His head ached, and this wasn’t helping.

“Everyone, the hospital just called. Yuri’s grandpa isn’t feeling very well. They think it might just be some sort of infection and nothing to worry about, but it’s exasperating everything.”

Yurio looked like he was ready to fight whatever was hurting his grandfather.

“Yuri, you’d like to go see him, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course!” Yurio stood up. “Can we go?”

“Yuri’ll take you,” said Viktor. “I’ll talk with you about it while I help you pack, да?”

After ordering Yurio a plane ticket, Viktor turned his attention to what Yurio had already put in his suitcase. He didn’t want the boy to forget anything in his rush.

“I know you’re stressed out, but please translate to Yuuri and be kind to him,” said Viktor. “It makes him nervous to not be able to understand.”

“Okay,” Yurio answered so quickly that Viktor knew there was no way to tell if Yurio would actually follow through or not.

“And Yurio?” Viktor had to stop and cough. “I know you’re in a bit of a hurry to pack, now, but you’ll have plenty of time to slow down and think. Keep focused. This isn’t worth you getting so nervous that you’re out of it. Your grandpa doesn’t even think you need to visit.”

“I can’t really help it,” said Yurio. “Things feel weird.”

Viktor frowned and tapped at his phone.

“We have a couple hours to get down there,” Viktor said. “But it wouldn’t hurt to be early, so Yuuri will take you whenever you’re both ready.”

“Alright,” Yurio slapped his clothes on the bed to shove back into the suitcase, but Viktor took the top pair of pants for him.

“I’ll fold,” Viktor offered. “Get your toothbrush and everything else you were keeping in the bathroom.”

Yurio’s eyes lit up and Viktor could tell that Yurio would’ve completely forgotten to get his things from there without him. Yurio rushed off, leaving Viktor to neatly rearrange Yurio’s suitcase so everything could fit.

“���母さん?” Viktor’s voice was weak and he was thankful that he managed to get anything out to catch Hiroko’s attention.

“Yes, Viccan?” She came close and looked up to him with concern.

“Can I rest here?” Viktor leaned into the back of the lobby couch.

“Yes, yes,” Hiroko welcomed her wobbly son-in-law to sit down. “We’re not busy at all, you shouldn’t be bothered much here. I’ll get you a mask.”

“Thank you,” sniffled Viktor, slowly lowering himself on the couch, going easy on his aching back.

Hiroko smiled pitifully.

“Viktor, if you want to go back to your room, I’ll check on you and bring you food and doses of medicine.”

“I really don’t want to go up and down the stairs for anything at all,” Viktor made a disgusted face. “My back aches so much more than usual.”

Viktor’s head throbbed and his mind felt foggy. He wasn’t sure if it was from the cold, the stress, or the tamagozake he kept asking Mari to make him more of. As he continued to need to remove his mask to blow his nose, he eventually ended with it just hanging around his neck, being good for nothing.

As Viktor took the mask off in frustration, a regular guest asked Hiroko,

“Where’s your son?”

“There was a bit of an emergency in Russia, so he went back for a bit with the child.”

“His fiancé’s not feeling very good, is he?”

“No, not at all.” Hiroko frowned.

“Well, that’s too bad. Poor thing,” they continued to watch Viktor with concern. “Is he gonna be okay without him?”

Hiroko let out a long sigh.

“…I hope so…”

“Viktor, I have more medicine for you to try.” Hiroko offered Viktor a pill. He thanked her and swallowed it without any questions, then handing her his empty tamagozake cup.

“Would you mind making more tamagozake for me?”

“I think I need to cut you off, but I can get you some water.”

“But I’m not doing anything,” Viktor complained.

“It’s not that you’re not worthy of having a drink when you want,” Hiroko explained with a bit of shock. “The alcohol’s just been making you turn greener.” Viktor let out a little noise of complaint that she just ignored as intoxicated behaviour. Hiroko left the room, but she returned with her husband and not only a cup of cold water but a little cloth full of crushed ice.

“I made you an ice pillow to make you more comfortable,” she explained.

Viktor leaned forward and hugged her. As surprised as she was, she loved it. He reached for Toshio, too, and although he rubbed Viktor’s back and let him hug him, his concern grew.

Not only did Viktor have a headache, he felt a strange twinge of nausea. He wondered if he’d feel better if he just got sick as Hiroko frantically pushed back Viktor’s bangs to feel his forehead, and then stroked some tangles out of his hair and put everything in place. The older woman touched his cheeks and smiled with pity.

“Let me know if you think of anything I could do to make you feel better,”

“Thank you,” Viktor smiled warmly. “You know, your son is really amazing. He treats me like royalty.”

Hiroko took the cloth full of crushed ice from her husband and draped it over Viktor’s forehead.

“I want to see if your fever’s gone up,” Hiroko turned on a thermometer. “Hold it under your tongue, please.”

“Ah, thank you.” Viktor enjoyed the cool sensation as Hiroko put a thermometer in his mouth. Viktor held onto the end as he opened his lips slightly to be able to breathe, and then let go again as he waiting for his temperature to register. His pink nose was starting to run again, but he was pretty sure that he could wait to blow his nose until his temperature had been taken. He held tight, sneezing just a second before the thermometer beeped.

Hiroko took the thermometer.

“Did I ruin it? Sorry, I’m not used to getting my temperature taken that way,” Viktor apologized. “I usually take temps under the arm. I was brought up with it being easier there. I don’t have to worry so much about my nose and germs. Yuuri normally takes my temp for me that way too since it’s what I prefer. He’s so sweet.”

As Hiroko studied the thermometer, unable to keep up with Viktor’s feverish babbling, she focused her concerns on how wobbly Viktor was and his spike in temperature.

“You have a high fever,” she interrupted him.

Viktor coughed and then smiled,

“I see where Yuuri got his wonderful caretaking skills from. Thank you for keeping me so comfortable.” Viktor’s nose ran more as he spoke, so he covered his nose with a tissue and then emptied it out. He went through a few more tissues as Hiroko ran over to her husband, not even paying attention to what Viktor had just said.

“Toshio!” She showed him the thermometer. “I think we need to take him to see a doctor,”

“Hmm…” Toshio partially agreed. “Maybe we should see what Yuuri thinks. And Viktor.”

“Viktor?” Hiroko went back to his side and stroked his cheek. “I’m starting to wonder if you need to go to the doctor.”

“I don’t need to go to the hospital,” Viktor promised. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m going to ask Yuuri,” Hiroko said. “We’re getting worried about you.”

“Hopefully his fever will just break at any moment,” said Toshio.

Hiroko texted Yuuri to call her whenever he next got the chance.

It was awkward to have to talk through Yurio to the hospital receptionists, but Yuuri stayed strong, heart pounding. He needed to work on his Russian.

The more they explored the hospital, the more anxious they both got. Yuuri had no idea what kind of shape Nikolai was going to be in when they finally saw him. He hoped this wasn’t going to be traumatic for Yurio, and that it truly was nothing permanent.

Once they were in the right ward, they followed behind a nurse to the room. As she spoke she gestured to Yuuri. He flinched, and from the little Russian he knew, Yuuri was pretty sure that he heard Yurio explain,

“dating my mom” and something about “speaking Russian”.

Hearing Yurio’s close description he gave to explain their relationship warmed his heart, but he knew he had to pretend that he had no idea the conversation even occurred.

When they stopped at the door, Yuuri put his hand on Yurio’s shoulder. He’d seen Viktor did this to get Yurio’s full attention, but Yuuri hadn’t tried it out yet. It felt a bit uncomfortable, but he tried to act confident.

“Before we go in, do we know what shape to expect to see him in?” Yuuri asked.

“She said he’s doing about the same as he was earlier,” said Yurio. Yuuri still wanted a bit more to warn Yurio with just in case, but he let go of Yurio’s shoulder as the nurse went to open the door and let Nikolai know he had visitors.

Yuuri kept a close distance behind the teenager as he briskly walked in.

“Grandpa!” Yurio still seemed a happy to visit despite the reason. Yurio got in bed with his grandpa and hugged him, seemingly ignoring the IV.

“Aaah, Yurio…” Yuuri took Yurio by his wrist as he guided him back off of the bed, make sure he wouldn’t snag any of his overcomplicated punk clothing on any of the wires.

“Grandpa, you don’t look that bad!” Yurio tried to ignore Yuuri. “Do you think you know what it is?”

“I’m not quite sure, Yurochka. Just felt worse than usual today, but nothing I haven’t felt before. You didn’t have to come all the way down here. The doctor was a bit worried about some swelling and put plenty of medicine in my IV to make me more comfortable.”

“That’s good,” said Yuri, still not seeming perfectly convinced that his grandpa was getting the best care. “What’s taking them so long? This shouldn’t be too hard to figure out.”

Nikolai laughed.

“It is, little fairy, it is. Did you grow more? Your arms look even more muscular, too.”

“I know!” Yurio flexed. “It’s off season but I’m still getting stronger than ever! I’ll win this next year for us, too! Maybe even the Olympics will be in the future.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful.” Nikolai smiled. He looked exhausted, but he was getting more colour in his face just talking to his grandson.

Nikolai gestured to Yuuri, which made him a bit uncomfortable, because he hadn’t understood a word the 2 were saying.

“Can you thank him for bringing you?” Nikolai requested.

Switching to English, Yurio told Yuuri.

“Grandpa thanks you for bringing me.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem.” Yuuri waved a bit nervously.

“Is Viktor parking the car?” asked Nikolai.

“No, he’s sick in bed with a fever,” Yurio explained. “We’re not bringing him here to spread his germs.”

“Sick again?” asked Nikolai. “Is everything alright?”

“I don’t know, they never tell me crap,” Yurio folded his arms. “But he’s getting so old! He’s always sitting on his ass, screwing around on his phone with his shaky hands! He never skates seriously anymore when I want him to help me with something. He just wants to sit back down while I do stuff. And if I complain, he just smiles and tells me that his back hurts. What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, Yurochka,” Nikolai seemed a bit nervous. “If he wants you to know, he’ll tell you.”

“Yeah, ‘if’. He’ll be faking well again as soon as I get back. Right now he’s staying in Japan with Hiroko, Toshio and Mari.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine with them,” Nikolai smiled. “That’s a big trip for the 2 of you to make yourselves, though.”

“It’s nothing,” Yurio said. “I can totally handle things. I’m healthy, so I can just take care of it.”

Nikolai laughed.

“Well, I’m sorry to take you 2 away from Viktor’s fiancé’s family when it was their turn for visitors.”

“That’s okay!” Yurio insisted. “I’d rather be with you.”

“Well, I guess I’ll take the chance to get to know Yuuri a bit more since he brought you.” Nikolai smiled.

“His Russian still sucks, don’t expect anything.” Yurio said.

“That’s alright, Yuri. It already helps me get to know him just to see that he brought you here. Let him stay in my room tonight. You 2 are going back to the house, right?”

“Uh…” Yurio turned to Yuuri, switching to English. “We’re not staying in a hotel, are we?”

“Viktor was going to set that up if we wanted to when we got here,” said Yuuri. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want and if was even okay to use the house, so we put it off.”

“We can stay in my house!” Yurio chirped. “Grandpa said you can sleep in his room.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Yuuri bowed, and Nikolai grinned, perfectly understanding the gesture.

“Do they have a wedding date yet?” asked Nikolai.

“No, but Viktor’s been obsessing about the details,” said Yurio. “It will be really fancy. They’ve been talking more about doing the service in Japan, though, so hopefully it will be at a time when you can come again.”

“I’d love to go back,” said Nikolai. “It’ll just depend. I’m sure there will be lots of pictures if I can’t go show my support, though.”

Yurio nodded.

“That hotel sure is nice,” Nikolai continued. “I really love those hot springs. I might have to go back with you sometime, even if it’s not for the wedding.”

“Sure!” Yurio started to get excited talking. “The hot springs must feel really nice on your back, right?”

“They sure did,” said Nikolai. “And it was very nice to meet the people you stayed with.”

“Mmhm,” Yurio smiled.

Nikolai then turned to Yuuri, and in broken Japanese, said,

“Thank you for looking after Yuri.”

Yuuri bowed again, blushing. He didn’t expect Nikolai to go through the trouble to do that.

“Yuri, tell your grandpa that I don’t know how long we’re supposed to stay, so he should tell us if he needs to get some rest.”

“Yeah,” Yurio nodded and started babbling on to his grandpa in Russian again. Nikolai clearly wasn’t doing as well as he was last time Yuuri saw him, but thankfully, it looked like things were going to be okay and they probably didn’t need to make this trip. Yuuri felt sorry for Viktor at home with his parents. It was hard to miss the opportunity to take care of his soon-to-be husband while he was ill, but making Yurio happy and easing his worries for his grandfather was well worth it. They all would’ve been much more stressed if they didn’t come here to see that it seemed like Nikolai was just a little sicker than usual.

Viktor and Yuuri weren’t just getting married and going to take care of each other, they were also raising this child Viktor was taking responsibility for. Sometimes they had to do what was best for Yurio even when one of them also needs some extra attention.

Yuuri was exhausted and wanted nothing more but to snuggle with his husband when they got back to Japan. The lobby wasn’t busy, but there were regulars around, fortunately unbothered by the sick man on the couch. Yuuri gently slipped in next to Viktor and accepted a kiss on the lips.

“Yuuri’s back~” Mari grinned toward her little brother.

Tired, Yuuri only gave her a small smile. Viktor was right, it’s nice to be affectionate when they can. Yuuri’s family and close friends could deal with it.

“Everything okay?” Viktor softly asked Yuuri, gazing into his eyes.

“Yeah, everything’s going to be fine,” Yuuri promised. “We really didn’t even need to go up there, but I feel better that we did.”

“And you’re okay?” Viktor asks.

“Yeah, Yurio and I are fine.” Yuuri smiled.

“Thank you,” Viktor gave Yuuri another quick peck and then coughed into his tissue. Yuuri felt Viktor’s cheek before cuddling into the side of his face.

“I got put on antibiotics,” Viktor whined. “I have a sinus infection.”

“I know,” Yuuri continued to study Viktor, giving him his complete attention. “Dad told me.”

“I had a 102 and a half degree fever, and I’m still not completely over it.” Viktor was clammy, clearly unhealthy, but no longer sweltering hot.

“Poor baby,” Yuuri said softly.

“I really missed you,” said Viktor. “My head got so stuffed up. It was a really weird experience. I have a vague memory of your father taking me to the hot springs to get some steam, and there were a few monkeys out there! But instead of taking a photo his reaction was to chase them with a stick. It was so strange. I have no idea how to even ask about it. I need to work on my Japanese.”

“Oh, god, we’re have problems with monkeys getting in with the people again?” Yuuri asked.

“It’s really no problem with me,” said Viktor. “I would’ve liked to have taken a selfie with one. How tame are they?”

“They’re not tame at all,” explained Yuuri. “They’re wild animals.”

“Yeah, but you can pet the cats out here around temples.”

“Not the same,” said Yuuri. “But how about I take you somewhere that you can feed monkeys sometime?”

“It’s a date,” Viktor changed position a bit and resettled up against Yuuri. “But first I need to feel well.”

“Of course,” Yuuri took Viktor’s hand and began to massage soothing circles into it with his thumb.

“The doctor really prodded at me and they took blood,” Viktor complained. “I was so weak I fainted a little.”

“That’s not good,” Yuuri’s heart anxiously started pounding. “Maybe you need to start lying down for that.”

“I don’t know, usually that doesn’t happen to me, I guess I just had an extra sickly reaction…” Viktor took a deep breath, relaxing. “It could have to do with it being a little different in this country.”

“Different how?” Yuuri asked, doubting that there could really be many differences.

“It felt like it took longer,” said Viktor. “I think they took more blood than I’m used to.”

“Well, what did they take blood for?”

“I don’t know,” Viktor sniffled. “The nurse spoke English, but that was more than I could understand. I just did whatever I was told.”

“I’ll ask my dad about it,”

“Everything is so high tech at your doctor. All sterile and white,” Viktor rambled, wanting to narrate the experience to his fiancé while also a bit unsure what to say. “The doctor groped my chest for a little while, and the nurse jammed something in my ear that made a strange noise.”

“That was probably just the nurse taking your temperature, Viktor.”

“Oh, and the way the doctor examined my nose was so uncomfortable and weird!” Viktor covered his nose, smiling and blushing. Yuuri had a similar reaction.

“I had such a strange and terrible time with you, my love!” Viktor chuckled.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Yuuri’s voice shook from his slightly nervous laughter.

“I missed you!” Viktor insisted. “Don’t you want to check my fever and see if I’m better?”

Yuuri lovingly felt Viktor’s forehead, smiling gently.

“I think you’re much better.”

Toshio walked by, stopping at the couch to ask,

“Viktor alright?”

“Everything’s normal now, my fever’s almost all the way down,” Viktor explained. “Thank you.”

Yuuri popped up to follow behind his dad to ask about Viktor’s clinic visit.

“Ill talk to him now,” Yuuri told Viktor in English.

“Okay, I love you.”

Yuuri blushed, a bit thrown off at Viktor’s casual use of the phrase, but he followed after his dad anyway.

“Hey, Dad, can we talk for a minute about him?” asked Yuuri. “What did the doctor want Viktor’s blood drawn for?”

“Oh, Yuuri, he got so sick while you were gone. He looked dog rough.” Toshio’s face fell. “I was so worried about him, even more so when he acted like he was used to sinus symptoms and aches. I knew he hadn’t been well so I told the doctor about all of this for their opinion. It’s just checking to rule some things out.”

“Ah,” said Yuuri. “I didn’t expect you to make Viktor go through all of that.”

“Seemed worth a try to me,” said Toshio. “He needed it done. Who knows? Maybe we do different tests than Russia and could find something.”

“Was Viktor reluctant?”

“Eh, not by the time we got him out of the house,” said Toshio, which didn’t convince his son. “He really takes his time getting ready. When Mari dragged him away from the mirror insisting his hair was fine he had wanted to put on makeup before leaving. Fortunately he’s pretty much over his awful infection. You should’a seen him.”

“Y-yeah…wish I could’ve been there,” Yuuri felt like this wasn’t the right thing to say, but only manage to murmur out another, “あの…”

“Talking about Viktor?” asked Hiroko,

“Yeah,” said Toshio. “Viktor’s temperature went down last night and he’s been over the worst of it since.”

“Poor Vic-chan was bed-ridden!” Hiroko called over as she went to refill Viktor’s empty glass of water. “Well, couch ridden.”

“Thanks you for taking care of him,” Yuuri gave a slight bow.

“He clearly needed it, he was sick,” said Hiroko. “It’s a little harder to notice if his colour is off since he’s not my child, though. That was one strange thing. Now that I think about it, I was also only guessing that he runs as warm as my family, and he could very easily have a different normal, oh dear-but anyway, I knew something was wrong.”

“Oh, he should be about as warm as us,” Yuuri reassured his mom. “And-he runs a bit cooler in the morning.”

“Well, I worry more about how he feels inside as opposed to the exact number the thermometer reads. And he even admitted to me, ‘Actually, I feel quite ill’.” said Hiroko. “Usually he’s so tall, but he looked up at me from the couch with the saddest face and runny nose. I’ve been doting on him nonstop since you left. I can’t help it.”

“Yeah…” Yuuri blushed. “He gets me acting like that, too.”

As Hiroko went back to tend to Viktor, Toshio asked a bit more privately,

“Is your fiancé really this sniffly all the time?”

Viktor did have a tendency to go through a lot of tissues, but Yuuri was sure that the cold was still causing the extra dripping Viktor was experiencing on the hotel couch.

“I remember him sneezing a lot, but this has been excessive,” clarified Toshio. “He claimed earlier today that he’s always at least like this, though.”

“He’s not usually this sneezy,” Yuuri admitted. “He’s not over his cold yet. He loves pretending he feels better than he is and he thinks saying he’s used to things will make people worry less. But he’ll the truth to me if it’s really bad.”

“Ah,”

“Viktor’s more honest with me about his body than he is to anyone else,” Yuuri spoke with confidence.

“So as far as we know do his medical exams show him in good health?” asked Toshio. “Or is there anything going on causing problems? Your mother and I have been concerned.”

“We would tell you if we knew anything,” promised Yuuri.

“So no doctors have had any hints in the past?”

“No,” said Yuuri. “They thought his back surgery went well and shouldn’t cause a ton of pain. They also said his allergies just happen to be a little difficult so he has to take prescription meds. There’s no clear reason for any immune deficiency.”

“How long has he been catching colds like this?”

“He’s always had trouble not catching what goes around,” explained Yuuri. “He was sick a lot when he was a kid but there wasn’t a clear reason why he felt unwell so often. They did extensive tests before Yakov got him ready for the Olympics.”

“Did the doctor say anything?”

“He told Viktor to toughen up and the exercise should help make him stronger,” Yuuri frowned, bitter. “Keep working at it, ignore the pain.”

“Yakov accepted that?’”

“Lilia changed the whole ‘be a man’ aspect of it to telling Viktor to ‘woman up’, but pretty much.”

“He really appreciates that you take care of him,” Toshio said softly, looking over towards Viktor on the couch. As flushed as Viktor looked, he seemed quite happy and relaxed.

“He does,” Yuuri studied Viktor with a gentle concern. “He really does.”

[aviationfiction]

XXI

Autumn Dupont

“I can’t wait for you to get here so you can try on your gown. Autumn, it’s so freaking gorgeous. The pale toned pink is perfect and you know you have that sun kissed skin with that super weird yet intriguing mystical glow to it that every woman on earth would kill for, so that’s certainly going to bring it to another level.”

My body turned to yet another angle as I did my best to get a good look at my tightly drawn back ponytail. While listening to Heather pour out her vexation, thrill, and anxiety about her wedding over the past thirty minutes, I’d been working with a curling iron, a flat iron, and my overthinking mind as I did my best to get it to the look of perfection that I envisioned. Initially, I worked loose curls into the ends to create a nice bounce to it but I wasn’t a fan of the look about five minutes later so that resulted in me flat ironing every single strand until they were straighten and cascading down my back. After having checked the weather, there was no way possible that I’d risk wearing my hair loose and allowing it to join the hundred and four degree weather in torturing my body. Supposedly, today’s a cool day and if those numbers represent what’s supposed to be cool, then I don’t want to be here when the temperature reaches absurd numbers.

“You heard me?”

“Yes, I did. First, I don’t know what glow you’re speaking of. I don’t see it and I’m looking at myself in the mirror as we speak. Second, I truly hope the dress fits my body properly and that it’s your final choice. I’m not allowing you to take me through the strain of last minute changes, Bridezilla.”

I dug both hands into my cosmetic bag to find my recent goto NARS lip gloss and nearly emptied out all of it’s contents onto the counter top. I contemplated doing somewhat of a full face of make up and the thought of looking like melted clay ceased my efforts. Instead, I applied a tinted moisturizer to my face, filled in my brows, applied just a bit of mascara for depth to my slightly sleep eyes, and now my last step is the lip gloss, if I didn’t forget the pack it. I’ve done my best to be as naked as possible without being indecent and yet I still feel like I’m overdressed for the heat that I’m about to endure. These acid washed cut off shorts are nearly short enough to be considered a pair of denim panties and the pure white crop tank top I’d chosen to wear with them left more than enough of my belly exposed and yet I could already sense how much sweat I’d be covered in within minutes. I just about clicked my heels when I noticed that there was an indoor pool and that’s where I planned to spend at least a nice portion of my day but one phone call tossed that out of the window.

“You ready Peaches?” I swiftly turned my head in the direction of the bathroom’s entrance and narrowed my eyes at Dante as he poked his head inside and took a look at me. Unlike usual, our eyes didn’t meet. Instead he took the time to exam every single article of clothing that I chose for his planned outing and he slowly trailed his intense brown eyes up until they were staring at my set of green. Instinctively, my feet took a step back from the counter and I slightly twisted my body to stretch away the tingling running along my spine and dancing within the depths of my abdomen. He arrived nearly three hours ago after having changed out of his business attire and freshened up for the afternoon and he fell into a slumber on the couch of my two bedroom suite while watching The Brothers. I assured him that while he napped, I’d began to get ready for whatever he planned but that transitioned into a bit of a white lie as I plopped down on the love seat and shamefully leered at him while he slept. The sight of his chest peacefully heaving up and down and the low breaths that escaped his soft lips entranced my mind and left me in a state of stillness. My heart swelled at the sight of every deep sleep grimace he’d make and I craved to be just a small part of whatever dream had his mind occupied. While his thickened eyebrows served as a clear source of his masculinity, the slightly curled set of eyelashes and his supple blushed lips softened his face to create the unbelievably perfect mesh of handsome and beautiful all at once.

Andreas is beautiful. I often thought of his appearance as unrealistic and had no issue deeming the man to be the one with all of the beauty within our marriage. Though it left my stomach churning from time to time, I expected women to gawk at him without any regard for my presence and it was of no surprise to me that my husband was often the one being lusted over before any of the players for the Miami Heat or for any NBA team, period. Though he’d do his best to take a nonchalant approach to it, he knew and he often joked about it whenever he felt compelled to irritate me for having irked his nerves at the wrong time or for the self pleasure of teasing me about an unspoken insecurity. Either way, his beauty has always been at the forefront of us and I grew accustomed to it. In no way am I comparing the two but there’s something about Dante that is so refreshing within that aspect. It’s not just his humble obliviousness and detachment from his attractiveness, but also his cultivated masculinity and imperfections that serve as the stepping stone for why he embodies what it means to be a man.

“Who is that?” As Heather questioned the foreign voice she heard in the background, I gave Dante a thumbs up and a playful side eye for the nickname he decided to give me yesterday and has refuse to let up on. With a nod of his head, he turned away to leave me to the wrap up what I had left to do.

“You heard me?” My hand finally set on the lip gloss I’d been searching for and I quickly opened up the tube and applied a coat to my top and bottom lip.

“That was Dante.” I had no reason to lie to her and there was nothing that I could make up off of the top of my head that would make much sense. She knows what I currently do for a living, she knows who my boss is because I told her, and she knows damn well there’s no man that I’d be bringing along with me for work related trips. Though I tend to avoid to the topic, she’s been curious about the dynamic between the two of us ever since we randomly decided to hang out in his nightclub after having a cost less dinner upstairs in his restaurant. The visual of the two of us speaking at the bar wrote a narrative for both Heather and Rachel that they refuse to let go of. Both women seem to believe they know my body language and reactions to men better than I do.

“He’s currently in your hotel room? Well, that makes things more interesting. Then again, it’s been that way. Your Instagram page currently looks like a traveler’s guide and I know for a fact that you’re not doing all of those outings alone. You can be somewhat of a loner when you want to be, but I’m not stupid.”

“I’ve never said that you’re stupid. We hang out. It’s been a couple of months and I can admit that a friendship has formed, so we hang out. It’s purely platonic; friendly. The friendship we have is no different from any other friendship I have. Granted your my best friend, so I’d say he’s a good friend. That’s fair enough.” I placed the lip gloss into the front pocket of my backpack along with my Apple charger and wallet. I left the inside empty for bottles of water.

We passed by a VANS store yesterday at Fredrick’s request while Dante was taking care of business and I couldn’t help but to fall in love with a sepia colored polka dot backpack that I saw hanging up on the wall. I asked for it without a second thought and a salesmen wouldn’t be doing his job without showing me something that would perfectly go along with the bag and mine did so when he paired the bag with a pair of the “Old Skool” classic skate shoes. The match made in heaven wasn’t one that I could turn down and was certainly worth the money, but my debit card never paid for the hundred and eight buck total. Fredrick physically and mentally blocked me from the counter as he uttered Dante’s request to look after me and make sure I was taken care of until he returned. What I took as a joke to laugh at was far more serious than it should have been for both of his best friends as we walked through The Fashion Show Mall. Though I didn’t necessarily want anything else, it didn’t stop them from offering me to choose something of my liking whenever we entered stores of their choice. Ice cream and lunch at Ruth Chris was on Mike. Today, I’m putting Fredrick’s gifts to use.

“You’re comparing our friendship with the one you have with him?”

“No. You’re my best friend. There’s no comparison to make.”

“I also don’t have a dick.”

“I’m aware of that. Also, his genitalia has absolutely nothing to do with me nor is it on my mind.” Well, at least not while I’m awake so, that’s not dishonesty on my end. After our eventful night at his golden nightclub and the time we spent reclined in the leather seats of his Aston Martin, the short nap I took was even shorter than it was supposed to be as I forced myself to end it. I needed the fantasy of Dante being buried between my thighs while I thrust my body to and from his in the front seat of his car to cease. That dream was the pioneer for the dream I had throughout last night that ruined my chances of an attempt to sleep in today. I’d like to think that I’m simply reliving my teenage years once more; or maybe it’s those early twenties that I missed out on. Fantasies are just that; moments when you absentmindedly muster up outrageous thoughts about something or someone out of your reach. I cannot recall any real celebrity or even average civilian crushes that I’ve had some years back and as a married woman the last thing I was thinking about was other men, though I wanted to out of spite. I’m going to deem these absolutely out of line visions of my boss and myself as a bit of that with an added dose of immaturity on my end. I suppose that’s what happens when you either encounter or fan girl over someone that’s out of your league and unattainable.

“Are you sure about that? It never crossed your mind when he was damn near pressed against your body that night?”

“No, it didn’t. Why would it? I told you that he and I have a friendship. It’s a fairly new friendship.”

“You say that like it’s a foreign concept for a man and a woman to start off as friends before taking it to the next level. Do you know how long that’s been happening? Not everyone meets someone and immediately either works towards or just jumps into a relationship. Friendship is often the stepping stone.”

“Yeah, well that isn’t the case between he and I. There’s nothing going on. I know you poke fun at me for being this extremely secretive person but I’m not hiding anything here. We’re just cool.”

“What do you like about him?”

“I don’t like him.” A huffed slipped past my lips and I pulled both straps of the backpack over my shoulders and slightly adjusted it so it’d be aligned perfectly with my back. While spinning in the mirror, I chuckled as I thought about Dante telling me I looked fifteen years old two days ago. I could admit that this look made me look no more than the age of a high school senior. It’s the ponytail and hoop earrings doing it more than anything.

“Why are you being so defensive? I’m asking that in general. You have to like something about him in order to consider him a friend of yours.”

“He’s just a good guy. He’s personable, kind, and a great listener. He gives good advice and is encouraging. He’s cultured and willing to teach without being an arrogant know it all. He’s funny in his own little way. He’s fun. He’s very humble and I respect that so much. He’s someone who knows so much; damn near everything and yet he doesn’t allow that to control who he is, how he carries himself, and what he represents. I respect that.”

“That’s a lot of description for someone that you’re only friendly with.”

“If someone were to ask me about you, I’d hope that you’d believe that I could give them a detailed and accurate description of how I feel about you and what you represent as a woman, because if not, then we have some issues.”

“Oh please. Don’t give me that bullshit. We’ve been friends since you and I were kids. So yeah, I’d expect that. You’ve been knowing this man for a couple of months through work and from what you just said to me, I’d think he’s been in your life for a couple of years. You’re going to tip toe but whatever. Say you do like him and you’re interested in something more; what’s the problem with that?”

“There’s a lot of of problems with that and it’s not the case.”

“What’s the problem?” If I had the time or the actual will to do so, I’d run down the pages upon pages of issues that would go into he and I being anything beyond what we already are. We’ve already crossed a couple of boundaries that are too far behind us to ever backtrack but there is no doubt that we’re going to be right here, at this point, throughout the duration of us working together because that’s the way it needs to be. I’m not even sure how long I’m going to be working as a corporate flight attendant. Though I enjoy the traveling and being able to see the world without having to spend a dime out of my pocket on flights, hotels, or food due to the company and the perks of having a company credit card, it’s time consuming and there’s a cap on how far I can excel. I can’t allow a favor for my brother to turn into my entire life and I certainly cannot allow a favor to turn into a nightmare for him. He’d have a conniption if he found out about just a small amount of what Dante and I have been doing with our work and personal time since being introduced to one another by him. It’s no secret that our relationship has a significant amount of damage and our story has some tattered pages but my God, I’d toss the most potent gasoline on the blaze that is his disappointment if he knew or if this goes any further than it needs to due to my foolishness and hopeless romantic being. Yet again, I’m teetering on the edge of destroying my relationship with my family and possibly pursuing a man that’s too far out of my league and would all but leave me shattered by the way of my own doings.

“Heather, I just got a divorce. The ink on that shit hasn’t even dried yet. As I look at my left hand, I can still somewhat see the print from my engagement ring and eternity band still on my ring finger. Take a step back and imagine how that would look. I’d be jumping from one relationship to another without any regard. Shit, it’d look like I was doing so while still very much so in the marriage. Situations like that need time to subside and it needs to make sense. I also need that sigma on me to die down some, you know? The whole someone’s ex-wife and sloppy seconds thing. He filled for the divorce. I’m the woman who was left for another; the cultural woman with the worldly job position by the way. I don’t have the greatest image right now. In addition to that, I’m not his type.”

Silence fell between the two of us as I leaned against the counter top and grimaced at the thought of what I just explained. I’ve seen far more than enough online, heard it on the radio from some of the most known radio personalities, and I’ve seen the brutal comments on social media. If it’s not about the decision I’ve made in walking away with nothing of his, it’s my idiocy for allowing another woman to come in and ruined what I built. Then there’s the viewpoint about my lack of a backbone or the women who have been digging as much as they can to find some type of scandal within my background or by my doing within our marriage so they can alleviate Andreas of any blame. As far as men, I’ve read plenty of “show me a beautiful woman, and I’ll show you a man who’s tired of fucking her” comments. Aside from that, no one wants me to shed the identity of being Andreas’ ex-wife. I’ve been offered a couple of book deals to tell all of our dirty laundry for some millions and the possibility of being on the New York Times Best Seller list. Shaunie O’Neal offered me to join Evelyn Lozada, Jennifer Williams, Tami Roman, and a few other ladies on Basketball Wives as a new cast member and if I made my very first season juicy enough to draw in high ratings, she assured me that I’d have a spin off show by the next season. I’ve been sent e-mails from multiple well known publicists to be hired for representation, and I’ve been offered interviews with countless media platforms. Rather than declining, I’ve never responded to most. There’s no need to. If I wanted to live off of the man, I could be twenty million dollars wealthier right now. I would have rather done that than to make a living off of my heartbreak by the way of scandalous exposure.

“What the fuck are you talking about right now?” The disgust in her tone was evident and it also served as the marker for me to end our call before the conversation turned into an argument that neither one of us need right now or anytime soon.

“Heather, I’m holding everyone up. I’ll call you tonight.”

“You know, that’s why I hate him. Don’t get me wrong, I can’t stand that high yellow, weasel faced, son of a bitch for hurting you, but I hate his ass for being the biggest part of altering the way you view yourself. I wish you were on my end of this conversation and could have heard that bullshit that you just spewed to me as the absolute truth about yourself. It scares me that you actually believe that and it makes me wonder if that counseling shit is working out. Your image? Jumping around? I’m at a lost for words because I don’t know what to say to you without losing my damn mind. You don’t owe him shit. Fuck the ink. I wouldn’t give a shit if it’s being smudged on the pages as we speak. You are a woman who is free to do whatever the fuck you want to do. I—you know what, I’ll let you go. We’ll talk later. Enjoy your day with your quote on quote friend.”

We didn’t bid one another our usual parting words of love. The double beep signifying her end to our call was as cold as she purposefully intended it to be and I could do nothing more than stick my phone down in the back pocket of my shorts and head out of the bathroom. Heather’s had more issues than I can count with me over these past six years and I’d just have to take today’s conversation and toss it into the pile of unresolved conflicts I’m going to have to mend at some point.

“I’m ready. Are you? You finished that movie?” I found Dante in my suite’s living room, laying across the couch, looking at what I know for sure is the final scene of the movie. He looked pleased, just as I had expected him to. The Brothers is a film that carters to both genders, though he swore it’d be a chick flick filled with drama and romance. Though it does contain those aspects, it’s also contains enough macho masculinity and comedy for a man to enjoy.

“There’s the credits.” He pointed at the screen and stood to his feet. He too, was dressed with the means to stay as cool possible. He donned himself in terry cotton deep grey Nike shorts with the all too familiar logo largely printed on the side of the left leg in white, a plain white t-shirt, and a black and royal blue pair of Michael Jordan’s first signature shoe. Though my eyes can barely tear away from him when he’s covered in the finest of materials gathered to create his designer suits, I certainly struggle to refrain from fawning over the days when he’s causal or laid back in appearance. There’s something about it that not only suits him but it also temporarily eliminates some of the intimidation in his serious demeanor. Right now, I don’t feel like I’m in front of a multimillionaire business man who has the world at his disposal. Instead, I’m in the presence of a handsome yet simple man with a kind heart and intuitive and often poetic mind.

“Did you enjoy it? Which brother do you relate to?”

“It was a good movie. As far as which one I relate to? None of them. One has commitment issues and then it went way left when he found out the chick he took an interest in had a previous relationship with his father. Then there’s his parents rekindling their relationship. Awkward shit. I don’t know my father’s dealings but I hope to never run into a woman he’s dealt with. What’s the other guy’s name? Brian. That’s it. He went through it with one black woman and swore off all of them. That’s quite silly, even though her sending him to jail was ridiculous. The Derrick guy and the sex issues, well I found that more comedic than anything, except for the mother part though I can’t relate. I’d never want my mother living with me.”

“You wouldn’t allow your sick mother to live with you?”

“Sick mother? Hm. I guess I’d allow that. She’s my mother after all.”

“And you wouldn’t consider leaving your wife if she wasn’t pleasuring you in the manner that you’d want her to?”

“No.” He shook his head to match the statement he made and I quickly side eyed him because I will never believe his or any man’s response to that if they tell me no. I firmly believe that apart of the reason why Andreas went after Amber is because of our unstable bedroom life. I came into his life untouched by any man and I worked at trying to figure out what he needed in order to keep him pleased. I’d mentally immersed myself into so much, it became less and less about my own pleasure and mostly about what lingerie, trick, or position I should try to maximize the pleasure for him. Some were better than others, tons were far more painful than I thought they’d be, and there were those that filled my frame with embarrassment because the execution wasn’t quite right. As the traveling increased, loneliness engulfed me and our connection dwindled. Whenever he did come home, I’d try my best attempts at spontaneity. I’d wait for him naked in our bedroom, only for him to flop down on the couch and not even acknowledge my presence. In the mornings, I’d remove my bed attire and creep into the shower only for him to turn around, kiss me, and tell me he had to go or he’d be late. I still cringe at the times when I’d drop to my knees and literally request to envelope his flesh into my mouth. Those requests were approved occasionally and I’m assured that it was for my own satisfaction more than it was his. I’d like to think Amber was already spreading her thighs and opening up her mouth for my ex-husband at that point; it’s either that or he just no longer wanted me.

“You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not. Why would I consider leaving my wife over something that we can work on? That’s not betrayal or the breaking of some part of the vows. It’s sex. Sex is a learning experience. You teach and you learn; both husband and wife or whatever relationship dynamic you have with said person.”

“And what if your wife never learns?”

“It’s not possible.”

“How so?” I quickly crossed my arm over my chest. I didn’t intend to be combative but there is no way possible that I’m wrong in this instance. I’ve heard and read about more that enough relationships or marriages going through the wringer because of sex and sex alone.

“It’s just not possible; at least not in my opinion. There’s so much to explore and try out. If one thing doesn’t work out, try something else. If you’re in love and you truly value that person and what they bring into your life, then you’re going to figure it out.”

“Well, I guess I’m going to have to agree to disagree. What you’re saying is easy to say because you’ve never had to deal with it. We all say all kinds of shit when we’re on the outside looking in. So no, I don’t believe you because in this instance you’re inexperienced and unaware.”

“Inexperience and being supposedly unaware has absolutely nothing to do with who I am as a man. I’m only getting married one time. That, I know for sure. So we’re going to have to figure it out until the wheels fall off. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yeah, okay. If we’re still friends around the time that you get married, we’ll come back to this.” I lead the way to the door and he chuckled while cooly trailing behind me. A part of me wanted to keep drilling his head until he understood where I was coming from and could stop being such an optimist but I let it go because I cannot speak for him or his future experiences.

“Nah. We can come back to this conversation sooner than that and why did you say if? You plan on going somewhere?” I nearly stopped in my tracks at the question. Am I going somewhere? They say people are in your life for a reason or for a season and though I have so many reasons for why I enjoy him and value what he’s brought to my life thus far, I do and can question if this is all just something temporary for the both of us that will be nothing more than a blur in his future and a memory within mine. The changes that will happen within our lives are inevitable and it’d be hard to imagine the two of us and whatever we call ourselves building between one another outlasting it. I’m sure it can happen but would it? Is that realistic?

“No. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Neither am I. So there’s no need to say if.”

“Okay fine, we’ll talk about it sooner, later, and at the wedding too.” The door closed behind the two of us as we walked down the long hallway and he continued to trail behind me until we were waiting for the elevator.

“Not at the wedding. The conversation will be pointless, because by then, you’ll already see it my way.”

“You sure about that?”

“Positive, Peaches.”

“And you’re going to stop calling me that.” I quickly pointed my finger in his direction as the double doors drew themselves apart and we stepped on, taking positions on opposites and he pressed the button for the lobby. While leaning my body against the stainless steel wall, it’s coolness did absolutely nothing to distract my attention from the sight directly across from me. His stance was nearly identical to mine; only he had his hands stuffed down into the pockets of his shorts. I did my best to refrain from being obnoxious or embarrassing as I continued to take in all six feet and four inches of him, but I didn’t have the strength to fight it. Any woman standing in my position would be doing the same in hopes of even a glance from him. The level of small I feel in such a grand presence is unbelievable and yet I’m drawn to every aspect of him; mentally and physically, though I’ve never had him. I cannot get the feeling of my body pressed against his as I moved my hips along to every infectious beat and vulgar lyrics while in the club. That is the result of my eyes panning down to his shorts to get even the slightest sight of what I felt pressing against my derrière. I remember the exact moment I felt what would eventually invade my thoughts and dreams, salivate my mouth, and moisten the most sacred part of me. Hours ago, I interrupted the best sleep I’d gotten in quite some time to end the vision of my nude body sprawled on his office desk as he—

“Peaches.”

“Huh?” I quickly returned my attention to his face and watched as he pointed at the lobby. As he stepped aside, I quickly exited the elevator and turned the corner to find an awaiting Mike and Fredrick. I didn’t know they were downstairs waiting for us and had Dante mentioned it, I probably would have tried to ready myself a bit quicker and would have certainly ended that call with Heather much sooner.

“It took y'all long enough.”

“Should have stayed upstairs instead of rushing your impatient and anxious ass down here to wait.” Dante purposefully yet playfully pushed Fredrick out of the way and he approached Mike who held an expression on his face that was far more serious than I’d ever seen on him. He’s usually comedic, cool mannered, and making statements that are either slick or slyly amusing all for the sake of entertaining himself and embarrassing those around him.

“Let me talk to you for a minute.” Dante’s ever confident frame tensed at the question and he quickly nodded his head as the two stepped away from both Fredrick and I. They were in clear view and if I were curious enough about what they were speaking about, I could have heard it well enough, but I’d been distracted by the sight coming in through the revolving doors to be concerned.

Though Vegas is known for bachelor or bachelorette weekends and shotgun weddings, I’ve never heard of people actually making the decision to have their traditional and sometimes extremely lavish wedding ceremonies and receptions in Vegas. I’d noticed an unusual amount of human traffic once we stepped off of the elevator but I didn’t connect the dots to a wedding. Now all of the tuxedos and whimsical dresses make sense. The last to waltz into the lobby was the beaming couple, who could do nothing more than fawn over and smoother one another in affectionate and celebratory kisses to celebrate their union. Their smiles were infectious not only because those amongst them were smiling just as big, but also because I mustered up a small smile of my own. Instead of her maid of honor, mother, or sister, it was the groom holding up the back of her mermaid style of gown. My attention focused on her more than anyone else, and the gleam in her eyes is exactly what a bride is supposed to have on one of the most special days that she’ll have in her life. She’s walking along side her life partner; the man who just vowed himself, his loyalty, and all of his dedication to her. I wonder if people warned her that though today may be beautiful, there’s a possibility of storms to come and destroy all that they’ve shared and built together to arrive to this point. I wonder if she knows that he may change or one day may wake up and not look at her the same way. Does she know not to lose herself into that shit? Will he cherish her? When he’s not perfect, will he apologize? Some days I think I’ve had closure and there are the occasional ones when I crave an apology from Andreas. An explanation would take me through the hell of it again, but I’d deal with that for those two words that often mark a resolved ending. I’d like to think I’m worth that; even if he doesn’t feel like he did anything wrong.

“Autumn.”

“Yes?” I turned to look at Fredrick whose facial expression held concern. I’d been zoned out to the point of staring at nothing. The wedding party vanished behind the doors of the hotel’s ballroom.

“Lets go to the little convenience store and get some snacks for the trip while they have that conversation.” He didn’t bother to wait for an answer as he threw an arm over my shoulder and lead me to the right.

“Trip? Where are we going?” Honestly, I figured we were going to gamble or take a visit to that gangster museum that Mike raved about on the way here. I don’t know much about Vegas other than gambling and nightlife and based upon the brochures I’ve read since being here, that truly is the highlight of what happens out here. I expect to be highly impressed when we head out on the scene sometime tonight.

“The Grand Canyon. Dante’s idea.”

“Oh! That sounds cool. Thank God I brought my camera. That’s a great outing for nice pictures.”

“It is. Mike and I haven’t been out there so we figured why not just do it together, even though it’s hot as fuck outside.”

My backpack served as the junk bag while Fredrick fit as many bottles of assorted beverages as he could into his own. You’d think we were kids the way we zipped around the store like the roadrunner racking up tons and tons of chips, cookies, cakes, and candy. Our teeth are sure to be semi rotten while I stomachs painfully ache if we should decided to consume all of it but we preferred to have options to suit everyone’s tastes. Dante rented a bright white Jeep Wrangler Unlimited for our trip and Fredrick volunteered to be our designated driver to both destinations. He and Mike occupied the front, while Dante and I sat on opposites sides in the backseat. I don’t know how I was able to figure it out, but he much like myself, was pleasantly surprised when I handed him a bag of Oreo minis and strawberry milk. I remembered the milk from a flight and the cookies were a lucky guess. It was my way of breaking the ice as he sat there staring out of the window swallowed by his thoughts. Whatever Fredrick told him couldn’t have been good news because the tension remained within his frame and exuded in my direction though he didn’t intend it. If we were alone, I’m sure we’d speak about it and hopefully there is a point throughout this day that we do. I’m no Dr. Jill. I don’t have all of the right answers, but I’d like to serve as an outlet to release his pent up emotions whenever he needs to. That’s what a friend is for.

“Are you okay?” My hand rested on top of his own and he swiftly flipped his hand so it’d lock around mine.

“Yeah, I’m just mentally analyzing a few things and solving others. I apologize for the silence.”

“There’s no need to apologize. I understand.”

“Fredrick told you where we’re going?” I quickly nodded my head and chuckled as he leaned in to began a session of whispering so the all too nosey duo in the front wouldn’t find a way to pick on him.

“Yeah. I told him that I’m glad I packed my camera so that I’ll be able to take some great shots at both places. Oh and your iPhone too. How the hell do we have the same phone and yet yours takes better pictures?” We shared a laugh over my question and he unlocked his phone so he could point out the simplistic answer; editing apps. I don’t have any on my phone other than one which is for creating collages or squeezing a few photos into one particular frame. I use the Instagram filters and call it a damn day.

“There are some great free ones but the best ones are the ones you have to pay for. I read a couple of articles and bought the apps with the best reviews and I just play around with the apps and edit the photos until they’re the quality that I want.”

“I’m going to have to copy off of you. Put those on my phone. Not all, but like the best three? I think that should do the trick.” I scooted closer so we’d be directly next to one another and I handed over my phone so that he’d handle the task.

“Your photos don’t need any editing though.” To mask the blush that was fighting its way through, I chuckled at the statement and quickly shook my head. He was serious and that within itself caused my head to drop down so I was staring into my lap and I finally allowed that blush to conquer the lower half of my face.

“Oh shit. That was a good one.”

Dante’s eyes widened at Mike’s intrusive comment and he immediately frowned at his best friend who twisted his body just enough to be able to see into the backseat. Fredrick’s loud laughter made it no better and I couldn’t help but to join him as Dante’s face filled with a faint hue of crimson to signify his embarrassment. He simply stared at Mike’s hand when he extended it for a dap and he rolled his eyes at the devious smirk on his face.

“I’m just messing with you brother. Aye, since we’re on the West Coast, Pac or Snoop for the road trip soundtrack?”

“Snoop.”

Dante and I said the name in unison and Mike turned his attention to his iPhone. As he connected to his Bluetooth, Dante typed and tapped away on my iPhone to began my journey to being a mobile editing master. Rather than going directly to one of Snoops legendary albums, Mike opted for a playlist. As the the sounds of “Snoop Dogg” blared from the speakers inside of the sporty truck, our heads nodded along to the infectious beat. While we relaxed against the cool backseats, our eyes met. The blaring music became faint as his intense gaze grasped my entire being and I could feel my lips slightly falling agape at the sight. He never once flinched. His search or rather hunt for something that goes beyond my outer surface became apparent as his body slightly leaned into mine. I welcomed him. He blinked once; setting off an array of chills from the base of my skull down to the very nerve endings of my spine and my nerves grasped the best of me as I tensely ran my fingers through my hair. He’d taken that as an invitation to take a few strands in-between his fingers and he loosely curled the strands around them.

“You’re stunning Autumn.”

“You too.”

It slipped and I wanted to kick myself for it. It flew from my lips a millisecond after my name beautifully eased from his. The truth; a truth that I’ve noticed since I mistakenly fell into his arms. He’s stunning internally beyond what most could ever imagine and it shines through to further enhance his external.

He granted me a small smile while allowing my hair to fall back into place. He didn’t readjust himself back into the position he was once in. He remained close, with his shoulder leaning into mine, while he browsed through the App Store. As his scent engulfed me, my body further sank down into the seat as I mentally unraveled.

God help me.

Our destination wasn’t the four hour drive that I was expecting. Our forty five minute ride didn’t even allow us to get to the end of the Very Best of Snoop Dog playlist as we arrived at GC Flight, a Las Vegas and Grand Canyon tour company specializing in helicopter, airplanes, and motor coaches to and from the Arizona landmark. I should have known better than to think we were going to spend the majority of the day going to and from Arizona in a truck even though it wouldn’t have been absolutely fun and hilarious to have done so with Mike and all of his playfulness. To save us the lengthy trip, we’d be heading out in a top of the line helicopter.

“I take it you’ve never been in a helicopter before?” Dante chuckled as I hesitantly walked through the terminal. He was nearly pulling me along by the way of my elbow. I asked just about every question possible while the actual owner of the company ran down all of the rules and guidelines to our trip. He described it as no different than a flight but I beg to differ; smaller aircraft and far less likability to live it we should crash.

“I haven’t. Don’t even say that there’s a first time for everything because I don’t believe in that shit.” His laughter wasn’t as infectious as it usually is. I couldn’t muster up even a chuckle as my eyes locked on the neon red helicopter we’d be sitting inside of within a minute or so.

“It’s going to be fine. I’d never put you in harms way.” He squeezed my arm. “Helicopters are cool as shit. You fly low enough to be able to see sights. You can’t do that while on a plane. Besides, this ride is only forty five minutes. That beats a four hour drive. You’re going to love it.”

The fifty milligrams of Zoloft I swallowed down this morning did nothing to calm my nerves as the three amigos cheerily encouraged me to hop onboard. Though there were six forward facing passenger seats with more than enough room for us to sit and lounge apart, Dante took a seat next to me while Fredrick and Mike planted themselves directly behind it. I was locked into my seatbelt, wearing headgear, as well as a headset before all of them. Fredrick suggested I chew gum and I immediately took him up on the offer. While Dante held both of my hands, Mike’s were grasping my shoulders and gently massaging them in hopes to ease my mind as we listened to the pilot’s safety briefing. His usage of the words danger, risk, threat, and accident just about worsened my fears. Him mentioning all of them with a smile on his face felt like I was sitting in front of the grim reaper.

“Trust me. I’ll never let anything happen to you. Besides, if Mike’s here, then you know we’re alright. That man’s scared of everything. He’s a pussy.”

“Aye, fuck you you longed face bitch.”

His response sparked the laughter I needed to calm just a few of the bad nerves tormenting me but overall, it was his immense hands squeezing mine that served at the soother during take off. They were nearly as soft as mine, with just a bit of roughness that had to be the result of his basketball playing and the feeling of them enclosed around my own set quickly became one that I didn’t want to rid myself of.

“The sights are great already. Look.”

From the oversized windows, we could already see an aerial view of the infamous Las Vegas strip. Had it been nighttime, we would have been able to be dazzled by the endless amount of lights, but the visual was still incredible nonetheless. Our pilot served as a tour guide and along the route he pointed out the mighty Hoover Dam and it’s power plant turbines. My Mr. Wikipedia served as the historian who explained it’s original name, Great Depression construction, the impounding of Lake Mead, and lastly the states in which the dam generators provides power for. I’d taken out my camera to get as many shots of it as possible and continued to capture shots as we moved over Lake Mead, Fortification Hill, the Colorado River, and the Mike O’Callaghan-Pat Tillman Memorial Bridge.

Upon our arrival to the canyon, the pilot flew around it so we’d be able to take in every single aspect of it from above and then we descended just about four thousand feet below it’s rim and landed at a private site in the heart of the Hualapai Indian territory. We were supposed to pop open a complimentary bottle of champagne to celebrate but instead we chose to hike around. Though weather conditions were absolutely arid, there was a warm and yet soothing rusty and gusty wind faintly sweeping through to make our journey a tad bit easier.

For the simple minded, we were observing far too much dirt and rocks purposelessly sitting in the middle of nowhere, but as I took it all in, I couldn’t help but to be in awe of nature’s artwork. The carvings, sandstone flanks, and rusted deep slopes covered by olive shaded trees all served as the means to beautify such a rugged location. As we walked, I lightly ran my fingers over the barren red rocks and the green leaves springing out of the jagged walls. The canyon served as yet another reminder of how beautiful the earth is despite such ugliness from arguably it’s greatest enemy; us human beings.

“This is beautiful; pointless but beautiful. How long has this been here?” Mike voice his opinion loud enough for the three of us to hear and I quickly turned to look at Dante because he typically always has the fun facts about whatever location we visit. I don’t expect him to fail us today.

“Eh. Studies have said maybe five to six million years. For thousands of those years Indians occupied this area. They built their own settlements within the canyon and it’s caves. Some even considered this to be a holy site and would make pilgrimages here.”

“Dante’s the only person who paid attention in his history courses.”

Mike raided my backpack while cracking jokes about his friend and within seconds the three friends were trailing ahead of me. I used the time to put my camera to use and instead of taking photographs of the sights surrounding me, I focused the lens on their chemistry. Had I never met any of them and was just observing, I’d easily be able to notice how extensive of a history they have and how much of a tight knit bond they cherish within their brotherhood. The loud outburst of laughter, the way they completely grant one another attention no matter who is speaking, without interruption, is admirable. Mike is even granted a respectable silence for his jokes. Fredrick often drapes his arm over Dante’s shoulder and it’s no different at this very moment. Given his hostility with his family, it’s relieving to see him have an extended one in those two as well as Stacey. They not only keep him grounded and humble but also contributes to his overall contentment.

“Autumn, stop being paparazzi and catch up!” The flicker was louder than I thought it was.

“Lets hike up there.” I pointed at a peak not too far away that would take a bit of trek up and Mike immediately shook his head.

“Nah. I’m already near death. You go up there and we’ll be right here waiting.”

“Come on. I’ll go. Fred, wait here with lazy.” Dante gripped my shoulder as I quickly took off my backpack and left it with the two just in case they wanted snacks and also so I’d have less weight on me going up. Throughout the climb, he used his long and lean legs to walk ahead but our hands being laced gave me the advantage of being pulled up by his strength. He showed no sign of exhaustion once we were exactly where I wanted to be; unlike myself. The heat already had a headache arising in the most sensitive parts of my head. I’m a faux runner but I’m no athlete. Dante runs and is moving around this place like he’s a Usain Bolt and Lebron James hybrid.

“This is perfect for photos.”

“Drink some water.” He twisted the cap off of my water bottle himself and I swallowed down what became warm water within a half an hour of us being out here. It didn’t do much to cool me off but I suppose it quenched my light thirst.

“What made you think of here as a place to come? Because it’s close to Vegas?”

He stepped aside as I lifted the Nikon camera up and aligned the viewfinder with my left eye. An eagle was my target and I captured his essence as it soared through the air with precision like the majestic beast that it is often portrayed as. The sun beamed down on his pearly white head; as he nearly blended in with the white clouds as he continued to weave in between them.

“It’s peaceful out here; hot as hell but peaceful.”

“So you’ve been here before.”

“Yes.” As the eagle passed, I focused on the clouds. I’ve never seen them so clear….so clarified. As the fainting sun cast it’s rays down upon them, it created the perfect hue of scarlet. The setting sun is always my belief of heaven touching earth for less than an hour out the day.

“Why did you need peace? What’s on your mind?”

“Home. I spoke with my sister-in-law this morning and she’s beginning the process for in vitro fertilization again and Matthew’s giving her a hard time. He needs to give a few more samples and he’s putting off the process and she called crying to me to convince him to do so. She doesn’t ask for much. She’s not a difficult wife and she puts up with that man’s shit though she doesn’t need to. She should have divorced him a long time ago as far as I’m concerned but I can’t make that decision for her. She continues to stand by him despite his shit. Now she wants a baby. That’s all she wants and it’s a whatever type of situation to him.” Oh I know that feeling. I know it well. Andreas and I had the baby conversation a number of times and each time he’d do his best to explain to me how we weren’t ready for parenthood without ever giving me a solid excuse for why. Honestly, I wanted a child to fill the void that he left with me. At least I wouldn’t be alone. In the beginning, I imagined us as a beautiful family, living a traditional life, and being something like those from the famous family oriented television shows. The more he shut the idea down, the less I thought it and I eventually let it go. Now I can’t even picture myself as a mother or the point in my life when I’ll be in the best place possible to be one.

“That’s tough. There are women out there who don’t want to have children and that’s absolutely fine, but for those who do, that’s one of the most important goals in their lives. It’s special, fulfilling, and full circle, honestly. It’s the greatest gift two people can ever receive so the pain that she’s feeling is intense.”

“I know. I could barely make out what she was saying through those tears. I want that for Camille because she doesn’t ask for much but Matthew would rather shower her in materialistic shit and go about his business. Talking to that man is like me standing out here and talking to the ground. Nothing gets through to him until he’s in some shit and it barely gets through then. He’s bullheaded. Always has been.”

“Sounds like Isaac.”

“No. Your brother’s no Matthew.”

“He’s not too far off. Believe me. Despite his success, he got his shit together not too long ago. This clean cut, focused, and reserved Isaac is a reformed version of himself.” As I turned my body to face Dante, the sight of him standing there gazing out at the scenery was far more beautiful than anything I’d capture since our helicopter ride over here. The way the remaining streaks of sunlight cast down upon him while the garnish of pinks and oranges reflected on his vanilla glimmering skin was enough to leave me breathless. He overpowered nature’s beauty and stood amongst it like a sovereign; the most alluring and selfless kind. A one of one; him and him only.

“Well I applaud him for getting it together. Matthew’s too arrogant for that. The best way to resolve an issue within your life, no matter what it is, is to understand and admit that there is an issue. The man carries himself like he’s God’s gift to mankind and he gets it from Richard. They’re one in the same.”  

“Sometimes people have to hit rock bottom in order for a change to spark within their lives. That may be your brother’s fate. You can’t change him nor can she. At best, you can encourage Camille to live her life and do what’s best for herself. If sticking by him is that, well, you have to allow her to do that. She loves him but I hope she loves herself more.”

“I agree with you.” The sound of the shutter caused him to glance in my direction and he chuckled as I quickly snapped a shot of his face.

“What else is on your mind?”

“Right now?” Though I switched my position so I’d be standing behind him, he turned to face me. “Nothing but this moment.”

“Not what had you quiet in the car?” He reached for my camera and I quickly pulled it out of his reach. “You’re always taking the pictures. It’s my turn.”

“That’s already resolved. It’s not on my mind anymore.” He reached once again. “You’ve taken enough. You officially have more photos of me than my mother does. I promise you.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“For her it is.” He gave up and instead reached for his iPhone. “Stay just like that. Don’t move.”

Had it been anyone else, I would have defiantly moved or dodged the camera but for him I froze exactly the way he requested me to do so and he capture me in the manner that he wanted. ‘A little to the left, slightly to the right, turn just a bit, look away, sit down, and look at me.’ I did all of it for him without protest as I basked in the beauty of him and our surroundings. The bombardment of colors casting across the skyline were beyond what Picasso or Vincent van Gogh could create. The man standing here with me? Only by God’s hands. There’s no denying I’m standing in the midst of his eminence.

“What’s on your mind?”

“What’s next for me.” That’s been on my mind more than anything else these days, which isn’t surprising. That’s where my mind should have been a long time ago but I held out hope for a resolution within the impossible. Now I’m left to figure it out alone. I’m no longer within those teen years where everyone’s tossing guidance and advice my way while happily standing on the sidelines to encourage me to keep going while I figure myself out. Sure I have a bit of it here and there, but I’ve reached the age where my focus needs to be solid. It’s going to take quite a bit of building myself up but the struggle to get there is to be expected and I deserve it. I’ve began to skimming through online applications for a couple of universities and I’ve reached out to NYU and UCLA for my transcripts. I need a few recommendations and I’m dreading trying to figure out who to ask and the accelerated programs that I’ve been checking out are strenuous. Harvard is the only Ivy League school that offers students who have completed at least two years of college to complete their degree through an assortment of online classes and approximately four three or seven week courses or active weekend courses on the university’s campus. The thought of applying there feels like I’m shooting myself in the head each time. I’ve checked out NYU and even Rutgers New Brunswick though I don’t want my mother involved. All of it is one big ball of confusion that I cannot continue to avoid no matter how much I try to.

“Do you know what’s next?”

“I’m slowly but surely figuring it out.” Suddenly his body was along side mine and he peered down at me in understanding. “That’s a start right?”

“Of course it is. That’s more than a start. I’d like to believe you already know what you want. You’re just analyzing the path that you need to take to get there.”

“Yeah. The adjustments as well. I suppose school is first.”

“Do you know where you want to go?”

“Uh. I’ve been checking out some schools.” He snickered at my hesitance to name them.

“Which schools? I wouldn’t be a Columbia Lion if I didn’t pitch to you how great of a school it is. You should check it out. I think you’d be a good fit there. You like New York City and you’d still be close to home. You can probably get an apartment in Manhattan so your commute won’t be extra hard. You were the Valedictorian at your high school and were on the Dean’s List both years you were in college. You’re getting in.” My eyes widened as he listed off those facts and I quickly glanced up at him in confusion. I never told him that.

“Who told you that?”

“Isaac.” He laughed out loud at my facial expression and widened his already huge eyes. “What? You think I did a background check on you or something? How else would I have known? He mentioned that while speaking to me about your permanent position.”

“Oh really? Says Mr. Accepted Into Every Ivy League School St. James.”

“Who told you that?”

“Google.” It was my turn to laugh but I wasn’t alone while doing so. He joined in. I didn’t search through page after page in hopes of pulling up every bit of information I could find on him. He was honored inside of the Harvard Business Review magazine and they had an extensive biography on him which included that information.

“Well as I said, you can get into any school that you want to get into. Just apply. Don’t doubt yourself. You have no reason to whatsoever.”

“What if that causes me to have to walk away from working with you?”

Silence fell between us as we continued to observe the sky’s retreating pigments as they battled the beginnings of the nighttime’s midnight blue pushing it’s way through the surface. The visual seemingly signified the question I’d asked him. A dark cloud loomed over my thoughts as I imagined having to walk away from what has been the source of my peace for the past couple of months.

“Walking away from the job doesn’t mean that you’re walking away from me. Right?” Our eyes met one another and he wrapped an arm around my shoulders to draw my body closer. His eyes held an anxiousness for a response and I wrapped my arm around his back until my hand met his side. My soft squeezing sparked his infectious smile.

“Right.”

“Alright then. So we’ll be fine. Besides, Columbia’s right there. We’ll be practically neighbors. We’ll see one another everyday.”

“Who says I’m going to Columbia?” I quickly sucked my teeth as he laughed ridiculously loudly and he playfully shrugged his shoulders at my question.

“All I’m saying is, I’m only writing a recommendation letter for Columbia.”

My jaw dropped at his stubbornness and he wrapped my body into the biggest bear hug as he continued to laugh at what I know for a fact he’s serious about. Columbia slipped out of my thoughts as I became a drunken woman by the way of his intoxicating scent. The warmth of his body engulfed me and I submitted myself to his world for however long he intended to keep me in his arms.

“We have to go back. I’m sure they’re tired of waiting.”

“They’re not standing out there. They walked away while we were walking up here. We’re fine.”

His head rested on top of mine while my head rested in the nape of his neck as we stood there welcoming the stars.

Tom Ford.

I’d chosen the handsome American designer’s designs for my attire this evening. The short black and long sleeved embellished dress and the matching thigh high open toe boots were amongst the final gifts I received from Shane. Though I was still married, he continued to encourage me to get out there and live my life instead of choosing to sulk in my empty home. During his visits, he’d become my bad influence of a life coach and we’d have “Siblings Gone Wild” weekends in the best hole in the wall clubs around Miami. My brother was too indie and eclectic to be partying inside of establishments on Collins Avenue or Eleventh Street. Given his ability to network and have friends all over the place, he was able to find these spots and he’d drag me out of the house in the sexiest attire he could coerce me into and we’d be partying until the wee hours of the morning and then would find a spot to eat the greasiest pizza ever before making our way back to my house and crashing in the living room. The Tom Ford pieces were shipped to my home while he was out in Paris enjoying himself and at the bottom of a note card covered in messages of love in French, he told me to tuck it into the back of my closet and be ready to wear it the next time we were together. He sent it to uplift my spirits. He never made it to Miami, because I met him in New York. I never wore it while out with him because he was dead within two days of my arrival. Tonight, I choose to wear it in honor of him and what he constantly encouraged me to do; live my life. He’d be applauding me with the most exaggerated compliments and showering me with endless hugs if he were here. If he wasn’t encouraging me to shine, he’d always push for me to soar. Given the embellishment of my chosen attire for the evening, I’d say I’m in for a night of shining courtesy of him. I hope I make him proud and that tonight’s festivities turn out to be as great as a night out with him would be.

The final touch to complete everything was the result of me starring at myself in the mirror for nearly ten minutes. While covered in black from my darkened hair down to the boots covering a portion of my thigh all the way down to my feet, I couldn’t decide if I should go with a nude lip or a bold red lip. Nude would tone everything down a bit and work with the natural glow I had going on once I completed my make up and the red would be a fiery pop of color needed for a statement. After looking between the two once more, I coated my lips with the red. It’s perfect for Vegas nightlife.

We’re in the lobby. Don’t rush. Just letting you know.

After opening Dante’s text message, I tossed my phone into the clutch bag I wish I didn’t have to carry this evening and I exited the bathroom for the final time. Though I was assured that I didn’t need to bring anything other than myself, I still double checked to make sure I had cash, my debit and credit cards, and most of all, the room keys. I can’t count how many times Heather and I have locked ourselves out of our hotel rooms and had to do the tipsy or sometimes drunken walk of shame down to the lobby for assistance. I don’t want that to have to be my fate tonight. It’s funny with Heather, but it won’t be as hilarious in front of the three gentlemen I’d be hanging out with tonight. Well, Mike would find it funny because he tends to find the funny in everything.

“Good to go.” I said it out loud to stop stalling myself and I finally made my exit while resisting one last visit to the mirror to make sure I wasn’t over or underdone. God knows I’m no where near perfect but I’d at least like to look presentable the majority of the time. That’s a rule by my mother and it’s been passed down by the women in her family from generation to generation. These past two years, I’ve certainly disregarded that and allowed my illness and depression to be the reason for my lack of care for my external appearance. I didn’t feel beautiful so there was no need to attempt to look it. Hell, I still don’t necessarily feel beautiful but I do feel like I’m regaining a lot of my sense of self and that’s a start. Besides that, there are boxes and boxes worth of unworn clothing that I need to put to use. I’d be damned if I just let it sit in the basement collecting dust because it’s a reminder of my time in Miami. Though a lot of it is a few years old; some recent; nothing in fashion is dated as far as I’m concerned. I’ll make every single piece work in some type of way.

The wait for the elevator was no more than a minute, though I expected to wait longer because of the traffic in and out of this place. Once it’s doors opened, I stepped on and was met with the eyes of a man most likely within his early thirties standing on the opposite side of it. Luckily for me, there were a set of buttons on my side as well as and I didn’t have to step into his personal space to press the button for the lobby. While resting against the wall, I did my best to avoid the eye contact that he so badly attempted to get by adjusting his eager position not once but twice, in such an audacious manner. My stomach churned at the sense of his eyes trailing over every aspect of me; undressing and eye fucking me while foolishly covered in a Miami Heat jersey. That’s what made it ironic but mostly ridiculous.

“I’ve seen you before.”

“Have you?” I gazed at the small screen signifying each floor we were surpassing as we descended to the lobby. It baffled me that no one had cause it to stop on a specific floor just yet.

“Yeah. I’m sure I have. I never forget when I see women as beautiful as yourself. You’re married to a Miami Heat player. I’ve seen you. I go to Miami all the time and I’m a big fan of the team.” I knew the NBA Summer League was in town. I’d seen a couple of signs upon arrival, there was a flier amongst the brochures inside of my suite, and Andreas would always fly out here for a day or two to check out the rookies in action before the season. I didn’t think much of it because I truly don’t care and something within me is telling me that he’s not in Vegas anyway. He has a pregnant fiancée to tend to and the summer league isn’t apart of his contract.

Up until now, I haven’t been approached, or awkwardly called out about who they know or believe I am until now. There’s only been a few stares here and there but I’ve grown accustomed to that. That’s been apart of my fate since I sealed it in Los Angeles.

“I’m not married.” My shoulders shrugged as I told him the truth and silence momentarily flushed out the conversation as he did his best to analyze my response.

“You’re not married to one of the players?”

“No.”

“I’ve seen you. I swear I have. I think I even remember what you had on. Game six against the Spurs. You were court side wearing pink.” My lips slightly fell apart at his vivid memory of my bright magenta Gucci attire. I attended all seven games that series; even the ones in San Antonio. Though we were fighting like hell, I still traveled with Andreas and showed up to the American Airlines Arena at home to support he and the team. The Heat won the championship in a ninety five to eighty eight victory over the Spurs. By then, I was far more happy to see Lebron and Bosh get their second rings and Wade his third, over my husband winning his second straight. What I remember most about that championship is being left to look on as the families of those players rushed to the court to shower their Heat heroes with love and praise and a congratulatory job well done. They were covered in confetti while excitedly putting on championship gear over their clothing while I was left off on the sideline to look on. I never got a chance to kiss him in the manner that the other wives kissed their husbands. He immersed himself into the celebration without ever looking for me and I was granted the coldest kiss on the cheek as he sprinted past with his team to head into the locker room to further their celebration by being doused in champagne. Not even the Spurs and their mopey demeanor could identify with what I felt as I left that arena alone that night.

“Mhm. I was there. I was a fan of the team.”

“Was?”

“Mhm.”

“Well what team do you enjoy now?”

“None of them.”

I mentally thanked the man above for his sudden blessing as the two doors slid apart and the pressure within chest ceased. My feet were moving at the same quickened pace of my mind as I quickly exited the elevator and turned the corner. I didn’t expect to be followed by the man but I also didn’t want to move slowly enough for him to further his investigation. A quick Google search would have given him all of the answers he was looking for and I would have been forced to be rude or to put forth my best effort at ignoring the hell out of him. His determination was alarming. I’ve never had anyone ask me that many questions about my ex-husband and our marriage within six years we were together. I’d been offered to appear on multiple platforms throughout our time together and I turned down every single opportunity because I didn’t want the fame nor did I want to leave a bad taste in his mouth. Now that has doubled along with the price tag and I’m still not interested. The less I hear or say about him, the better. Amber can enjoy it.

My eyes landed on the three men I’d been searching for were and they were idly standing amongst one another and sharing a laugh while glancing at whatever was happening outside of the entry doors. Dante was the only one out of the three semi dressed up. Because of the blistering Vegas heat, he opted for white attire from head to toe. The chambray fabric of his button down shirt rested against the build of his upper body beautifully and the the pants were the perfect match. On his feet happened to be one of my favorite pair of casual sneakers to see on a man; the “Torino” model by Buttero. I’d gotten Isaac two pairs for Christmas and though he critiqued them early on, he appreciates them now. You can easily dress them up or dress them down and they work in such a stylish manner. Given how well dressed Dante is, it’s not surprising to see him giving them a go. What I enjoy most about his style is the lack of contrived attempts. No matter what he has on, he always oozes a confidence that allows one to think that he doesn’t belong in anything else within that moment. Right now, this is arguably the best I’ve seen him and I’ve yet to see him look anything other than on point. My lip had been pulled in-between my teeth since I set my sight on him and I’d finally been caught in Mike’s peripheral. The smirk on his face was all too knowing.

“She arrives.”

Our eyes didn’t meet in the way I craved for them to. Instead I was left to watch him gulp down nothing but air as he took in the moment; our moment. His intense glare trailed over every single aspect of my frame; while I bashfully shrunk and mentally melted under the ferocity. His mouth fell agape while a hint of air escaped and exhaled past his lush pink lips and into the atmosphere. If looks could kill, I would have killed over no less than three times. A part of me desired to throw a trench coat over all of it, run upstairs, and start all over and the other half figured that I might as well go through with it.

“Sheesh Autumn! You didn’t have to kill it like that. Damn.” Fredrick’s eyes widened as Dante peeled his eyes away from me and glanced in his direction. The blank expression on his face was all too amusing because it’s clear that the man can’t stand obnoxiousness from anyone and though the comment was towards me, it still irritated him.

“Right Fred. Who are you wearing that for?”

Mike’s smirk grew even bigger and he purposefully and foolishly wiggled his eyebrows to pester me.

“Myself.”

“That’s it?”

“Of course. It’s for me. If anyone else should enjoy it, that’s a bonus right?”

“Looks enjoyable for sure.” Dante elbowed Fredrick in his side for yet another shameless comment or rather compliment and he boldly laughed while slapping Dante on his back. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was saying all of those things to purposefully irritate him.

“Shall we gentlemen?” My arm extended to point ahead.

I walked behind all three of them as we made our exit and instead of driving, we were separated. Dante and I were in the back of a chauffeured Mercedes Benz alone to my surprise. Fredrick and Mike were in back of the SUV in front of us.

“Why didn’t we just go together?”

“Just in case we leave at separate times. Fredrick is usually the last person to leave the club out of the three of us. That’s his environment. He’s not in them as much because he’s in a relationship and I sort of think he’s outgrowing the habit but there are times when he likes to purposefully be a stubborn ass; especially when people point out that he’s changing. I’m not sure why. He found love, which is a great thing. He most likely hates the idea of people tying his change strictly to her but I don’t do that. He’s just growing up. It’s about damn time.”

“Sometimes guys fear losing themselves in the process of committing to person. He’ll get over that. She’s clearly a great woman if he’s making adjustments in his life to suit himself and her in the process.”

“She is. I like her.” He nodded his head to go along with his statement while fidgeting with his fingers as his hands rested in his lap. I’d been staring out of the window since making myself comfortable in the backseat and I’d probably be doing so until our very short ride to Omnia comes to an end. I figured if I focused on Vegas’ luminous lighting and only gave him eye contact when he spoke, I’d save myself the distress of refraining from glancing over his entire being repeatedly. I’d done it more than enough for the evening and would most likely be absentmindedly doing so while we lost ourselves into the hectic flow of the nightclub.

“Autumn.”

“Yeah?”

“You look…” Nice. He’s going to tell me I look nice and I’m going to combust into a fit of nonsensical blushing. “Incredibly sexy tonight. Seriously.”

The skin is the largest organ apart of the human body and every inch of mine viciously tingled in response to his dauntless compliment. My heart beat erratically in my chest while my stomach filled with an onslaught of flutters and tightening beyond my control. I couldn’t find my voice and my lightly blush covered cheeks flushed with warmth. As his potent eyes met mine, I could feel my heart beating in my throat. My body transitioned from an exhilarating rush of emotions to a state of numbness because he’d snatched every part of me with just four words.

“Thank you. You too.” His raspy and gruff voice erupted into a light laughter and it ended with a smirk that weakened my knees though I was sitting. He ruined my comfort. Now I wanted to do nothing more than sprint from the car and walk the rest of the way.

“You’re too polite. You don’t have to pay someone a compliment just because they’ve given you one.”

“But it was a compliment and the truth. The white against your skin is just right.” I refused to look into his eyes again while being so close in proximity of him. I’d no longer be responsible for my actions as the spell of his enchantment moved me to attempt just a few seconds of what I now spend my nights dreaming of. I am caught in his web and he doesn’t even know it nor should he know it. This isn’t supposed to be happening. I’ve crossed all of the boundaries between the two of us while my mind, body, and soul is urging me to push forward and step over the forbidden threshold of the final few that are left. His patience and understanding from our very first encounter with one another engulfed all of me and left him indented on my mind. I’m foolish so it’s of no surprise to me that this is happening on my end but it’s absolutely mind boggling that I’m yet again tampering with my growth in the eyes of my family and friends by walking on the edge of disappointment again. The man is out of my league much like Andreas was and I’m starting to believe I’m drawn to that type of shit. I desire what I cannot and should not have; I enjoy the chase. I’m fairly knew to the crushing concept. Only one other man has gotten me to that point and I only briefly dated him and ended up vowing my life to him. I’ll be damned if I do that again; literally.

“Thank you.”

We wallowed in the intensity of our commentary and thoughts until the sedan came to a halt outside of the nightclub. I didn’t bother waiting for the driver to open the door to make my exit. I’d opened the door and exited the car at the same exact time as he did. I needed the fresh air to calm my stomach so the contents I’d consumed at SW Steakhouse for dinner wouldn’t come flying out of my mouth.

We skipped the line as I expected given the clout all three of them have no matter wherever they are. I was guided inside of the nightclub with Dante’s left hand firmly pressed to the small of my back and we were guided to an upper level VIP area away from the congested dance floor and never-ending traffic heading to and from the strobe light covered bar. They never requested anything by mouth; well at least not from what I noticed. We’d only been sitting for five minutes and bottles of top quality champagne, vodka, cognac, and mixers were being carried over to the table. I’d lost count of how many varieties there were and was even more confused when out everything left for our disposal, Dante and Mike chose Hennessy. At no point has he switched it up and I didn’t know Mike enjoyed it just as much. Fredrick’s a vodka man. As far as myself? I’m a whatever has a fruity flavor type of drinker. I chose to babysit a glass of Ciroc coconut with pineapple juiced mixed in it.

I couldn’t make out the dance floor. People were dancing to the sounds Calvin Harris was spinning from wall to wall. I could barely see him though his booth was raised up high enough for a clear view of him. The lightening stimulated my eyes like a rave; slowing down the movements of all the bodies while flashing each twist, turn, fist pump, and grind repeatedly. The techno and house music wasn’t my flavor for the evening but the alcohol urged me to bop my head and shimmy in my seat while meshed into Dante’s side while he observed the scene. With every sip of his drink, I knew he was taking mental notes for the sake of his client and his own plans for expansion. He’d do that for a few minutes and then he’d fairly return his attention to me by either smiling or squeezing my side. Eventually, we were standing and glancing over the balcony to observe the first floor and I gained the attention of all three of them as well shared playful commentary and laughter about the drunken offbeat dancing and sexual hooks happening. I’d never seen so many strangers randomly making out with one another in my life; not even during those two years of college.

“You enjoying yourself?” His warm breath swarmed my ear while his sultry tone invaded it and I nodded my head before gulping down the amazing drink Mike slid in my direction. He called it a “Zombie” or something along those lines. It’s apricot, orange juice, and rum mixture was superior to the Ciroc I was enjoying a while ago.

“I am. I always have fun with you. Who knew that the quiet business man could be so outgoing?”

“I have fun with those I enjoy having fun with. So you get a bit of credit there as well.”

“You give me too much credit.”

“I don’t think I give you enough, honestly.” He’d done it again. Instead of the goosebumps and stomach flutters, he heightened the warmth the vodka and rum filled my body with and my nipples stiffened against the embellished material covering parts of me.

“There’s nothing more to credit me for.”

“Is that what you think? Well, you’re wrong.”

As he closed the inch of space between our bodies, I took a step back and bumped into a half-drunk Mike who was rocking back and forth to Justin Timberlake’s “Rock Your Body”. He’d taken my mistake as a request to dance and he swiftly wrapped his left arm around my shoulders and swayed the both of us back and forth.

“Let’s go Autumn!” Dante awaited my next move. It was either him or Mike within that moment and I chose the man who’d leave me in one piece. I turned around in his embrace and threw my arm across his shoulder and rocked to the early two thousands hit. Him knowing all of the lyrics to the song and singing it with such a drunken slur made it so much more comedic. The laughter subsided the lust. The dancing filtered out the tension.

We were five songs into a random Timberlake set and we’d gone from trying to imitate Justin to shimmying our shoulders to “Like I Love You”. There was no way I wasn’t dancing to that one. It brought me back to the nights when Heather and I would be running around getting ready to take the campus and the outskirts of Los Angeles by a storm throughout the weekends. Justin was a heavy part of our playlists. We went to see the FutureSex/LoveShow in Madison Square Garden together in two thousand and six.

At the end of the song, I turned around to find Dante and the warmth within my body chilled at the sight of him speaking with a woman I hadn’t seen since we’d been at the nightclub. His back was to me so I couldn’t read much within his facial expressions or body language but hers said it all. The gleam in her bright blue eyes and the way she toyed with her platinum blonde hair while nodding her head to whatever he was saying to her ignited a feeling within my body that was all too familiar over the past couple of years of my life. I tensed while my lips tightened and no matter how much I wanted to shake it off, I couldn’t. I had no right and yet I couldn’t win the ridiculous battle against the unspoken resentment I chose to inflict upon him for doing what any single man has the right to do.

“She’s business.”

“What?” It wasn’t Mike in my ear. It was Fredrick, who’d been extremely mellow throughout the night. Dante’s right when he talks about him outgrowing places like this. If anything, he’s going to be the first person to go.

“She’s business. She’s one of the co-owners of this place. They’ve been trying to get Dante to buy into Omnia for a while now but he’s not interested so at this point, they just want to partner with A&M for representation and he’s not interested in that either. He’s not checking for her like that. Actually, he’s not checking for her at all.”

“It doesn’t matter if he is or if he isn’t.”

“I think it does. Why else would you be staring over there with so much tension radiating from your body? Dante only wants one woman in this room and it’s damn sure not her. I don’t think you need me to help you figure out who that woman is.”

My hand gripped the glassed filled the “Zombie” and I gulped down the majority of it.

“Alcohol doesn’t decrease your desires. It enhances them.” His sly chuckle as he stepped back nearly made me want to toss the rest of the contents inside of the glass on the floor. To say I felt exposed would have been an understatement. I couldn’t stand to look at the smug expression on his face any longer so I wandered off to find the bathroom so I could get some of the alcohol off of my bladder.

I spent ten minutes in the bathroom and another five standing downstairs in an attempt to clear my mind and straighten out my thoughts. In moments like this, I’d be texting Heather so she could either say some imbecilic advice or a joke to get me going but I know if I texted her right now, she’d only lash out at me for denying the truth she was attempting to provide me with earlier and she’d hang up. In addition to that, I’d be waking her up and she hates when she’s woken up; especially if it’s not for an emergency so I’ll refrain from doing that until tomorrow. She’d tell me to put my big girl thongs on and handle my shit anyway.

My eyes could barely remain focused on the sights in front of me as I crept up the steps. Each huff from my mouth allowed my nose to understand just how much alcohol I’d consumed and my slightly dazed expression told the story. I saw myself in the bathroom’s mirror while other women in my predicament either complimented or lusted over my attire. While standing and observing the flooded dance floor, two different guys flirted with me within that five minute time frame and I felt absolutely nothing. It was by far the most annoying interaction I’d encountered throughout the night and it was because of them that I decided to come back upstairs in the first place. Now as the man in my dreams comes into view, I wish I’d stayed. Why the hell couldn’t I enjoy the flirting or set my eyes on some attractive man out on the dance floor so I could know that what I’m feeling is nothing more than suppressed teenage antics.

“Where were you?”

“Bathroom.”

“All this time?” He placed his hand on my shoulder and narrowed his eyes.

“Yeah and I was looking out on the dance floor for the hell of it. Now, here I am.”

“You ready to go?”

“Yes.”

I was hoping he’d say that. All I want to do is return to my suite, strip out of everything, sit in the shower for two hours, and sleep the alcohol off. Actually no, I don’t want to go to sleep. I want the shower, the comfortable robe, a order of wings from the twenty four hour room service and a black and white film. I’ll take a nap later or I’ll sleep when I’m in Miami for the week for Heather’s bachelorette party, wedding rehearsals, rehearsal dinner, and the actual wedding. He’ll be in New York and I’ll be far too busy to be consumed with thoughts of him all damn day and salacious dreams of him all damn night.

“Okay. Let’s go back to the hotel.”

We left without bidding the other part of our group goodbyes. He’d already told them we were going to leave before even knowing if I’d say yes or not. Our ride back to the hotel was filled with him questioning if I was okay. He’s immune to Hennessy. I’m sure of it. While walking into the lobby his stance never faltered. His gigantic eyes remained their normal size. The mint in his mouth didn’t even mesh with the cognac. It over powered it. How the hell is he like that? He’s an enigma; some type of paradox. I’m being tested and I’ve been tested enough. Give me a break!

“The doors won’t close if you continue standing in-between them. Come here.” I stood in-between the doors of the elevator because I contemplated catching the second one so I could get away from him sooner. Now that his arm is around my waist and drawing me inside, I should have. I should have taken the stairs. Walking up like fifty floors would have been better. Fifty? Wait, where is my room?

“You enjoyed yourself tonight?”

“You have a high tolerance for alcohol.”

“I only had two glasses. I wasn’t in a drinking mood.”

I could no longer hear whatever he was saying to me as I looked into his eyes. Self-control and my sense of self evaporated while faint tremors and an aching desire overwhelmed me. I needed to know what it’d feel like. I want to know if it’s as magical as it seems within my dreams. The softness; the warmness. Just one time.

Just once.

I placed my hand to his smooth cheek and enclosed my lips around his own.

I’ve never felt more alive.

What trickled through the blinds wasn’t the morning sunlight. I can sleep through that. The peak of the early afternoon sun is what’s leaving my eyes and head in agony no matter how many pillows I cover my head with. As my mind began to trickle out the remaining images of my erotic dream, a large huff slipped past my lips as I soaked up the warmth of the covers and the plushness of the mattress. I inhaled to prepare for a few breathing exercises I tend to do when I’m trying to rid myself of a headache, and I nearly tossed the pillow across the room due to all too familiar scent that has absolutely nothing to do with my own. My eyes flew open and I quickly sat up and glanced around at the unfamiliar surroundings. The Air Jordans next to the chair on the opposite side of the room confirmed what I was praying wasn’t true was indeed the truth. In the chair were the Tom Ford boots I’d danced around Omnia in. My eyes nervously panned down and I noticed my dress was still on. The zipper was still up.

My hand flew up to my head as I did my best to recall last night’s festivities.

We went to the club. I know that. We hung out. We drank. I walked around I believe. Mike and I danced or maybe we didn’t. No, we did. We definitely did. What time did we leave?

As I swung my feet over and planted them on the floor, I glanced over at the nightstand and saw my clutch bag and a note on top of it.

Peaches, 

We left out to check out two properties. You were sleeping so peacefully and you hardly ever sleep, so I wasn’t going to wake you. Don’t be mad at me. Order some room service, but don’t get anything too heavy. We’re going out for pizza when I get back; just you and I. There’s a great spot in the area. See you in a bit.

Dante and I left together. It was just us. We came back to the hotel. We were on the elevator. It was just us. Who pressed the button for the floors? Was it me? We were talking on the elevator. I kissed him and then…

I kissed him.

I ran my hand down my face as frustration filled my body. I kissed the man and I don’t even understand how I got to that point.

Did he kiss me back?

I dreamed about giving myself to him with him next to me?

I could scream.

Why am I always the aggressor? Why can’t I just wait for someone to be interested enough in me to approach me, flirt, ask me out on a date or two, and finally kiss me. Isn’t that how these things go? It happens for Heather that way. It happens for Rachel that way. It happened between my brother and Lauren that way. I’ve heard my parents love story more times than I’ve wanted to and it happened that way and here I am throwing myself at someone…again.

As I placed the note along side me, I grabbed my clutch bag, unzipped it and grabbed my phone. I had missed calls from both of my parents and Rachel. I didn’t bother returning any of those. Instead, I went to my call log and tapped the number I certainly needed to be calling. While fiddling with the note, I listened to three long form rings until there was a connection.

“Autumn, I’m literally walking to the conference room for a meeting as I speak. Can whatever this is wait? I’ll call you when I get out of there.”

“Isaac, I quit.”

[ramajmedia]

10 Hidden Details In Golden Girls You Never Noticed | ScreenRant

Thirty-four years ago, The Golden Girls revolutionized the sitcom. And since then, nearly every piece of trivia about this beloved series has been made public knowledge. Turns out, there may be some hidden tidbits. For sure the die-hard fans know the basic stuff about the Girls. Nevertheless, this classic sitcom of four elderly women living their best years in each other's company featured talent both in front of and behind the camera. That amounts to a lot of information out there waiting to be shared. So, here are some hidden details about The Golden Girls people may not be aware of.

RELATED: The Golden Girls: The 5 Best Episodes (& The 5 Worst)

10 Dorothy's divorce hit close to home for Bea Arthur

One of Dorothy's biggest insecurities was undoubtedly her divorce from Stan Zbornak. The mere mere mention of his name sent her spinning. In the first season's "Guess Who's Coming to the Wedding?" Dorothy and Stan's daughter Kate announces she's getting married. This meant Dorothy would have to see Stan at the wedding. She puts on a brave face and endures the awful day with some help from her mother Sophia. In the end, she confronts Stan and tells him off. This specific scene was hard for Bea Arthur, as she went through a similar experience with her ex. Gene Saks.

9 The Girls hated the mink episode

In the second season's opener "End of the Curse," the ladies breed minks as a way of making some extra cash. What fans don't realize is how much the actors disliked the script. The staff was aware Betty White was an animal activist, but they didn't know Bea Arthur and Rue McClanahan were ones, too. Writer Terry Grossman backed them up as much as he could, but the talented actors persevered. They had no interest in doing stories with harmful themes like breeding animals for profit.

8 A familiar room

Production designer Ed Stephenson favored "modular" sets ⁠because they could be reused with a few simple adjustments. So the series made good use of a teak-paneled courtroom from the show Soap. Dubbed the "Classic Interior", this set was repurposed as a waiting room ("Mother Load"), a banquet hall ("Love for Sale"), a hair salon ("Rites of Spring"), a clothing store ("Love Me Tender"), and a restaurant ("Ro$e Love$ Mile$"). Following the end of the series and its spin-off, the set was rented out to other productions. All proceeds went to Tony Thomas' favorite charity, the St. Jude Children's Research Hospital.

RELATED: MBTI® Of The Golden Girls Characters

7 Where's the oven?

Some of the best scenes in the whole run of The Golden Girls took place in the kitchen. Whether it was Rose cooking up wacky Scandinavian delicacies or Sophia perfecting one of her Sicilian recipes, the kitchen was the heart of the home. And for a room where eating nothing but mouth-watering meals was par for the course, it may be surprising to learn there was no oven. Just a cabinet with a piece of plywood in place of a door. The kitchen — from Helen Hunt's 1982 sitcom It Takes Two — originally came with an oven next to the fridge.

6 The best prop ever

Blanche was famous for her amorous  lifestyle. And to literally illustrate her many sexual conquests, Blanche offered her surrogate family an original Christmas present like no other. In "'Twas the Nightmare Before Christmas", the ladies' holiday vacations are each postponed by inclement weather. Yet prior to that, the Golden Girls share homemade presents rather than purchased ones. Mrs. Devereaux gifted her friends with "The Men of Blanche's Boudoir" calendar. Every month features a man who brought some "special joy" to Blanche's life. In reality, the prop calendar contained photos of the male production crew in ridiculous outfits and poses.

5 Blanche's accent

Despite Rue's character growing up in a part of Georgia where the Southern accent was considerably modest, she felt it wasn't funny enough for the role of Blanche. So, she opted for a humorous dialect that is more phony than realistic. Rue McClanahan 's inspiration for Blanche's accent came from her mother's cousin. She was from Oklahoma too, but she spoke like a Southern belle pretending to be British. The funny thing is though, Rue almost didn't use the accent for Blanche. She thought she had to keep her default intonation until the show gave her permission to make Blanche Southern.

RELATED: 10 Golden Girls Memes That Are Too Hilarious For Words

4 Where's Coco?

Fans surely noticed the ladies lived with a gay man named Coco in the pilot, but where did he go afterwards? The late actor Charles Levin was completely comfortable with playing a gay character. So that's not why he wasn't kept on. What actually happened was the network didn't like the idea of Coco being intimate with other men. Levin suspected the AIDS crisis at the time was a factor. His scenes were trimmed to the point where Coco was only a glorified servant. The official reason conveyed to Levin after the pilot was they wanted to focus on just the women.

3 Being fashionable comes at a price

Blanche, Dorothy, and Rose did not dress like the average senior citizen on television. The majority of their clothes were handmade by costume designer Judy Evans Steele. She implemented a lot of bright colors and prints to match the spirit of Florida. Something else unusual about the ladies' wardrobe — with the exception of Sophia, the Girls dressed like people who don't live in Florida. Meaning it gets very hot there, yet Blanche, Dorothy, and Rose are wearing layered, expensive, and fashionable outfits. It may have been one hundred degrees, but the Girls wouldn't be caught dead in a sleeveless top.

RELATED: The Golden Girls: The Ten Funniest Episodes Ever

2 The truth about the cheesecake scenes

Would cheesecake be as popular without The Golden Girls? Probably not. The ladies frequently sat down in the kitchen and chatted over several slices of the dessert. Fans love these scenes, but they may be heartbroken to know that not every Girl liked cheesecake. Although Betty White enjoys cheesecake, she doesn't eat anything on camera. She claims Rue McClanahan is the opposite and would go to town if there was cheesecake. McClanahan said that's not true, and she only pretended to eat it. As for Bea Arthur, she hated cheesecake. In fact, she didn't like the scenes involving it either.

1 Living in style

The ladies had a very enticing living room. There was a sizable amount of woodwork on the set, but unless one is looking for it, they would never notice that the wood isn't at all carved. Instead, it's painted to look textured. The show was filmed in standard definition so these details are harder to discern anyway. Something else worth noting is the rattan sofa the Girls lounge on. Assistant art director Michael Hynes chose it because it looked feminine. Throughout the series, the pillows change in style and color because the women's clothes would otherwise clash with the furniture.

NEXT: 10 Actors We All Forgot Appeared On The Golden Girls

source https://screenrant.com/golden-girls-show-hidden-details-never-noticed/

[thecoroutfitters]

If I were told that I could only grow one vegetable (err…technically fruit, but that’s irrelevant) in my garden, I would pick tomatoes. Why? Because they’re delicious, nutritious, easy to grow anywhere, and you can use them in so many ways that you’d likely never get sick of them. You almost have to grow tomatoes for survival if you want your garden to be complete.

Just a single cup of tomatoes provides about half of your RDA of Vitamin C (move over orange juice), 25% of your RDA of Vitamin A, some Vitamin K just for kicks, and minerals including iron, potassium, folic acid, Lycopene and calcium. Plus, tomatoes have been linked to cancer prevention. Not too shabby for a little red, yellow, green, purple, orange, black, or pink fruit/vegetable, is it? Oh and did I mention that they come in an array of colors?

But which ones should you grow? How long do they take? Do they have particular needs? How much space do you need? There’s definitely a bit more to growing quality tomatoes than just grabbing a pack of seeds at the dollar store, but throughout the following paragraphs, you’re going to learn enough to get you started.

Different Types of Tomatoes

Many people grow several different varieties of tomatoes because there are so many uses for them. Just like anything else, most tomatoes are better for one purpose than another. For instance, if you want to grow tomatoes for juice and for eating raw, you’ll likely want two different types of tomatoes.

Of course, there are definitely good all-around tomatoes, but variety is most certainly to spice of life. And since there’s very little difference in planting and growing, why not grow different ones best suited to your individual needs?

Here are some of the reasons you may want to grow tomatoes:

Slicing, or eating tomatoes

Cherry tomatoes for salads

Plum tomatoes for eating or cooking

Juice tomatoes

Sauce tomatoes

Whole canned tomatoes

Tomatoes for chutneys.

Now, think about it. If you want to slice a nice, meaty tomato to put on your burger, you want plenty of “meat,” right? But if you want to can whole tomatoes, you’ll want something a bit smaller, and with a different consistency. And of course, if you want a little tomato for a salad, you need yet another type.

That’s the beauty of tomatoes; there are hundreds of options. All you have to do is find the ones you like best!

Learn from our ancestors the old lessons of growing and preserving your own food for harsh times. 

Types of Seeds

There are four main types of seeds out there: GMO, hybrid, heirloom, and open pollination.

GMO

These seeds have been genetically modified at the DNA level in a lab. They’re meant to make the seed better in some form or another. However, because the plant has been altered at the genetic level, you may find it difficult to get the next generation of seeds to grow, or to produce tomatoes that are the same as the ones in the first generation.

Hybrid

These are often mistaken for GMO, but they’re vastly different. They’re a naturally-occurring plant that occurs when one variety pollinates with another. Think of the hybrid as a family – a mother and dad get married and have a child that shares their traits – hopefully the best of each parent.

Hybrids have no problem growing but may not be consistent from one generation of seeds to another. First generation plants and fruit tend to be more consistent in size and shape and are often more disease resistant than heirlooms, but you don’t know what you’re going to get next year.

Open-Pollinated

These plants are the result of plants that are grown close together pollinating each other in a natural manner. You’ll have some genetic variability because of this, and when the seed is saved, those traits are passed onto the next generation. Open-pollination tomatoes are often regionally unique and have unusual shapes, colors and flavors.

These are the seeds that most farmers count on, because they’re reliable. You can save the seeds with a high degree of confidence that they’ll grow next year.

Heirlooms

The queen of seeds. Heirloom tomatoes come from seeds that have been carefully preserved for generations – usually 50 years or more. They’re carefully tended so that the traits are consistent from one generation to another. The one trait that heirlooms have is that the fruit can vary greatly in size and shape even on the same plant. That’s not always the case, and it’s not really a bad thing – just something to make note of when you’re growing them.

Heirlooms grow consistently from one year to the next, so you can save your seeds and have the same exact plant next year.

So What Seeds are Best?

Many people grow hybrids and love them; for that matter, I have too. But if I’m saving seeds, it’s the ones from my hybrids and open-pollinated ones because I know that they’ll grow and I know what I’ll get. 

Growing Conditions

This is yet another trait that I love about tomatoes – no matter where you live, there’s a variety that will grow for you. Well, almost. If you live in an area that has no warm weather to speak of, or an extremely short (less than 50 day) growing cycle, your choices are limited unless you want to grow them inside, or in a greenhouse.

Altitude affects every single aspect of growing – temperature, soil conditions, precipitation, and humidity. In high-altitude climates, you often have short growing seasons, soil that’s either rocky and alkaline or shaded and acidic, too much rain, not enough rain, and a ton of wildlife that’s just waiting for you to grow them some delicious food.

But don’t despair, you can grow great tomatoes just about anywhere you want as long as you’re willing to put in the effort.

What do Tomatoes Need to Grow?

I read a story about a couple who invested all of their summer into a tomato crop only to yield a single fruit. They’d gone out of town one weekend and forgotten to tell their friends to water them, and that’s what did it.

Now of course, that’s a tall tale, but it’s not far off. Tomatoes need a consistent amount of water, especially when the fruit is ripening. But if you water them too much during this period, they’ll be washed out and flavorless.

So if your tomato could pick its ideal situation (and it can because if you don’t listen, it won’t grow) what would it be? There are some variances in their needs, such as length of growing seasons, but in general, the necessary components to successfully growing tomatoes are:

Temperature – tomatoes need an average of 3-4 months or warm, fairly dry weather to grow and produce well. In order to “set” fruit – a gardening term that means that your plant will produce fruit after flowering and pollination. Generally, they need nighttime temperatures of 55-75 degrees F for this to happen. They won’t develop the proper color if night time temps are above 85, and most will quit growing if nighttime temps are over 95 degrees. Now, there are tomatoes that thrive in hot weather, so if this is your situation, do some research and find them. Otherwise, you’re wasting your time.

Sunlight – Your plants need at least 6 and preferably 8 hours of sunshine per day. If you live somewhere temperate, 8 is great. If you live in the sweltering south, then 6 with a nice shady afternoon will be appreciated.

Consistent Watering – This part is SUPER important. You want your soil to be moist but not wet. Too much will kill the plant, too little will stop the fruit from growing, or will give it a poor texture and flavor if it does grow.

Proper, regular feeding – Tomatoes like nitrogen in the soil, so prepare the soil with ripe compost and a scoop of aged manure in the bottom of the hole when you plant it. Another trick is to add some Epsom salt to the soil monthly.

You can do this via just sprinkling a couple teaspoons around the plant, or by mixing a couple of tablespoons in a gallon of water and watering your plants with it. Be careful though, because too much nitrogen will give you a beautiful plant but will delay ripening. Add nitrogen when the top leaves turn yellow and the stem turns purple.

Loose soil that drains well – honestly, they prefer this but will grow in nearly any type of soil as long as you provide the proper nutrients. If you have plants that harvest early, sandy loamy soil is best. Plants that bear fruit late like heavier loamy clay. They also like slightly acidic soil with a pH somewhere between 6 and 7.

Take Care of the Roots and Leaves – tomatoes are a good plant to start inside because if you live in most zones, you want your plants to be 8-10 weeks old when you set them out 2 weeks or so after the last frost. It’s important that you wait this long because if you get an “oops” freeze, your plants are done.

You also need to protect them from wind that can break them and try to keep the vines off of the ground to help protect them from mold and bugs. Bugs love tomatoes, so be proactive in your insect prevention and check the leaves, top and underside, regularly.

Planting Your Tomatoes

Ok, not that we have that set aside, let’s talk about how to grow your plants. This is the exciting part – well, one of them anyway!

It’s best to prep your soil a week or two in advance by turning in some aged manure and compost. A bit of Epsom salt may help too, if your soil is low in nitrogen. Rest easy – though salt will kill your soil, Epsom salt isn’t actually sodium – it’s actually magnesium and sulfur. The magnesium helps your plant absorb nitrogen.

Some people just dig the hole for the plant and plop a trowel full of compost/manure in the bottom. This may be OK, but make sure that both are well-aged so that you don’t burn up your plants. I’d recommend mixing it into the soil.

If you started your plants from seeds, they should be at least 8 weeks old now, and you should harden them off for a week or so before you plan to plant them out doors. This just means that you’ll start putting them out for a couple of hours per day, protecting them at first from the sun and wind, then gradually increasing their time spent outside so that it’s not such a shock when you actually transplant them.

Now, let’s plant. You can plant them in your garden, or tomatoes make excellent container plants. 5-gallon buckets work great.

Dig a hole with your trowel about 6-8 inches deep. Remember that your soil should be loose. Pull off the bottom few leaves  of the plant, then put it in the ground so that the root ball is buried and the remaining leaves are above the surface of the ground.

Plant them about 2 feet apart.

Water well to help reduce shock to its roots.

Stake or cage immediately. This doesn’t seem like a big deal now, but trust me – in a few weeks when they’re growing like gangbusters, you won’t find it nearly so easy as you do right now.

Water your plants well for the first few days to help prevent shock and help it to acclimate. Water consistently throughout the season so that your soil stays at about the same saturation. In some growing conditions, you may be able to get away with watering once a week, but 2 or 3 times is better. They’ll need about 2 inches per week.

Just a tip here – using homemade mulch is a great idea because it helps hold moisture in AND it helps fertilize at the same time. You can put the mulch down when you plant or you can wait a few weeks to do it. Don’t forget about liquid manure compost, either.

Keeping a steady fertilization schedule is good, too, Follow the tips above about that.

When your plants begin to vine and you get them staked, it’s a good idea to pinch off sucker leaves – those leaves that don’t lead to more vine but only exist to suck the moisture from your plant.

Wait for your bumper crop of tomatoes to appear!

Video first seen on Rogers Gardens. 

Preservation Methods

Now comes the fun part. The best way that I like to preserve my tomatoes is in between two slices of bread – oh wait, it doesn’t last long like that! Seriously though, there are a number of ways that you can preserve your tomatoes. Each way ends up using a canning method, but there are many different ways that you can prepare them for preservation including sun-drying and adding to olive oil, or dehydrating.

Juicing and Sauce

I can’t even tell you how many tomatoes I’ve mashed through a sieve with a wooden  pestle to make juice! All you need to do is cut your tomatoes into quarters and toss them into a saucepan. Bring them to a boil for 5 minutes to soften them up and get the skins all loose. The juice will start separating out.

After they’ve simmered for that five minutes, turn off the heat and pour some of them over into your sieve or food mill (which is over a pot or bowl, of course) to separate the juice from the skins and seeds. Mash them through and pour the juice back into a pan and bring to boiling again for another 5 minutes, then can.

You should add a tablespoon of lemon juice to each pint just to boost the acidity enough to preserve it. I also add in a teaspoon of salt per quart (1/2 tsp. per pint).

Water bath can as usual or 35 minute for pints and 40 minutes for quarts. If you’re pressure canning, it’s 15 minutes for pints and 20 for quarts.

Note that your juice may “clarify”, or separate so that the bottom is dark red with the tomato pulp in it and the top is almost clear. This is perfectly normal – just shake it up before you use it.

If you want to make sauce instead of juice, it’s simply a matter of cooking it longer so that the water evaporates and the juice thickens. You can make plain tomato sauce if you want, but this is a great time to jazz it up by adding seasonings such as garlic, oregano, rosemary, etc. Think spaghetti, pizza, taco sauce, etc.

Whole, Crushed or Diced

Blanch your tomatoes for just a couple of seconds – that is, dip them in boiling water for 10 seconds then toss them into an ice bath. An old Italian guy (because nobody knew more about tomatoes than this guy) taught me that if you slice a small ‘x’ somewhere on the bottom of the tomato, it makes it easier to peel. The skin will fall right off and you can proceed to the next step.

Once you get the skins off, cut away any bad parts or green sections. If you’re canning them whole, stuff them into the jars. If you’re halving, quartering, dicing, or crushing them first, do it now. And add them to the jars and top with water so that you leave 1/2 inch headroom, at least. Add lemon juice and salt, seal, and can.

Paste

The process of making tomato paste is similar to making the juice except you cook it WAY down into a super thick sauce, then add olive oil and salt and bake it in a 200-degree oven, spread evenly in  pan, until it’s the thickness of tomato paste.

Chutney, Salsa, Etc.

This is possibly the best part! Make your favorite salsas and chutneys with tomatoes, onions, garlic, herbs, and other spices and can them up so that you have some of this deliciousness year round!

As you can see, there’s a lot that goes into growing tomatoes, but there are so many different ways that you can use them that it barely qualifies as work. It’s like growing an entire winter’s worth of possibilities all with just a few plants.

Study what kind of tomatoes you want to grow and get started! What are some of your favorite tomatoes? Do you have a recipe or an idea you’d like to share?

Discover how our forefathers produced their own food during harsh times! Click the banner below for more!

This article has been written by Theresa Crouse for Survivopedia. 

References:

http://leitesculinaria.com/87323/recipes-homemade-tomato-paste-conserva-di-pomodori.html

from Survivopedia Don't forget to visit the store and pick up some gear at The COR Outfitters. How prepared are you for emergencies? #SurvivalFirestarter #SurvivalBugOutBackpack #PrepperSurvivalPack #SHTFGear #SHTFBag

[montieltjlindseyba37insuran-blog]

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[nugentart-blog]

Once upon a time...

So, I’ve wanted to start a blog for a number of years, and after experiencing my first Apple Distinguished Educators Academy event, now seems like the perfect time.

I always wondered how I would start my blog… What to talk about and who would care about what I was thinking… but after attending the Apple Academy, I realized none of that really matters. Its not about who reads it…if anyone reads it….What matters most is getting your story out there; using your words to make a difference, small or large

it doesn’t matter that it’s perfect, it matters that it’s real.

So….where to begin? I guess….me…..who am I? How did I get to be the woman sitting at her computer, exhausted, with her puppy snuggled at her toes as she writes her first babbling blog. Well, here goes nothing.

Who am I, where I am right now?

I am a LaDue, a Day, a Riley and a Nugent; and all have shaped me into who I am. My sister and I grew up in a home surrounded by love and support from all of my many families, all of whom continue to support us as we navigate adulting. My sister has the sweetest son, Noah, who makes me laugh uncontrollably with his silly giggles, and he is the center of attention at nearly all of our family gatherings.

My father. who put the “LaDue” in me and gave me my outgoing personality, passed away when I was six years old; an experience that drastically altered my childhood. I remain close with his family, and all of my many cousins on that side of my family.

I was raised by my mom, a Day, and a single parent who is the most inspirational person I could ever know. After breaking her neck in middle school, my mom was told she would never walk again. Low and behold, she proved them wrong and would become only the third person to walk out of that hospital after suffering a broken neck. She then raised my sister and I after the death of my father and gave us every opportunity that any other kid had….and more. She did it all, from driving between states on the same day for dance competitions and student council camps to getting us to meetings and practices so we wouldn’t ever miss an opportunity. It is from her that I get my adventurous side, although I’m not certain that she’d describe herself that way. She also gave me a heart for service and a love of giving back, through her work with those with disabilities and her servant heart, constantly giving back to our community.

In 2006 I gained a new family, the Rileys, which not only my stepdad, but also his five sisters and all of their kids, many of whom I had gone to school with in our small Wisconsin town.

In 2011, I married my best friend Colin and became a Nugent, gaining a family of in-laws, where I fit in like one of their own. We’re the kind of family that believes in the power of laughter, with memes and gag gifts making frequent appearances at family events. Colin is my best friend, and it is with him by my side that many of my goals—including homeownership, achieving an undergraduate and masters degree, raising a puppy, and checking many items off my bucket list—- have been achieved.

I am a Wisconsinite. A Wisconsin native, born and raised in the small Americana town of Sparta; the kind of town where you’re favorite place to hang out is the old-fashioned ice cream and coffee shop downtown (Ginny’s is the best!), and, much like Cheers, “everyone knows your name.”  My hometown is known as the Bicycling Capital of America, and connects miles of bike trails. Summertime in this small town brings our ironically-named festival, Butterfest, which, aside from a cow-milking contest (which I may have won on a few occasions), has little to do with butter. Fall brings falling leaves, haunted houses, corn mazes, and chili nights at football games. In winter, lights decorate our small community park, snow covers the ground, and everyone can be found bundled up inside with a warm drink, and warmer conversation. Spring in Wisconsin brings road construction season, rain, and of course, flowers, in a state where 50 degrees in the fall means sweatshirt weather, and 50 degrees in spring means it’s time for shorts (Wisconsinites are so flexible!).

I am an adventurer, and I mean that in every sense of the word. I love to travel, and had wanderlust long before I knew what that word actually meant. I live my bucket list every day, seizing opportunities to try new things. I’ve watched a monsoon, fed a giraffe, swam with a dolphin, held a baby kangaroo, visited Korea and Europe, lived through a hurricane and a tornado, slept in a haunted house (for $50 nonetheless), slept on a porch swing, raised a puppy, watched fireworks with Scrooge McDuck, trick or treated in the Happiest Place on Earth, seen the Mona Lisa, designed a mural (complete with a Where’s Waldo), learned to blow glass, met my favorite singer (Gavin Degraw <3 <3 <3) and more. I seize opportunities to explore the world, even when that means it is on a shoestring budget. Growing up I did tons of activities, from figure skating, to baton twirling, color guard, dance, bowling, Girl Scout, Student Council, and more; all of which shaped me to embrace every moment, try new things, and continue to adventure every day.

I’m an art teacher in Wisconsin, about to enter my seventh year teaching. I teach in a school that is unique in many ways, like any other school. I teach in the upper corner of a two-story building in La Crosse, Wisconsin; a school that embraces diversity in unique ways. That two-story building contains two different schools; two different schools on two different calendars with two different philosophies.

The first floor of my school houses Hamilton Early Learning Center, a diverse school, especially for Wisconsin standards. Hamilton’s population consists of less than 53% white students, with 14% Asian/Pacific Islander ethnicity (primarily Hmong), 12% Black, 7% Hispanic and 13% of students with two or more ethnicities. As of last November, over 70% of our students were considered economically disadvantaged; a number that is the second-most disadvantaged in our district and continually fluctuates with our highly transient population. We recently excitedly, had our first day of school, and for the first time are offering free breakfast and lunch all of our Hamilton students. The teachers at the school are a family, better known as the Hamily, where each member of our staff works to improve the lives of the students that attend our school, far beyond academics. We’re the kind of school Where you can find family night frequently, a social worker helping families with services, anti-teachers to constantly bend over backwards to improve their students lives outside of school, ensuring they have what they need to succeed.  

The second floor of my school houses the School of Technology and the Arts, a school that is home to the most affluent students in our area, with only a little over 30% economically disadvantaged students. This charter school features for constructs, with an emphasis on integrating the arts in the classroom. In the school are the only students to have drama class in our district, and can begin learning strings instruments in just first grade. The students have extra art time during Hamilton intercessions, and spend 30 minutes per week in a multi-age classroom known as community room. They frequently have artist-in-residence visits, and and their year with a special performance called the informance.

I have a desire to teach art and a love of technology, which come together to create crazy adventures in my classroom. In 2017, I was beyond honored to become a part of the Apple Distinguished Educator’s Class of 2017, (best class ever!). After seeing the stories of other Apple Distinguished Educators and the way they share their stories of the world, I was inspired to continue to share my own.

I am an artist. I have an undergraduate degree in Art and Education from the University of Wisconsin La-Crosse (although I’m truly a UW-Green Bay Phoenix at heart) and as part of my education, took courses in everything from painting, which I absolutely loved, to metalsmithing, which I quickly realized wasn’t really my style. My favorite mediums are photography and graphic design, as well as glassblowing, which I learned through an undergraduate research grant.

I am a volunteer. I volunteer as a member of the board of both the La Crosse Public Education Foundation and Sparta Public Education Foundation, both of which provide grants to teachers to further innovation in the classroom. I also volunteer with Sparta Butterfest as a webmaster, social media contributor and designer. I also co-direct the Miss Sparta Pageant - no judging - where I have helped young women give back hundreds of hours of service and thousands of dollars to our local community. Yes, it’s a pageant (for one night out of 365 in the year) but the organization and the girls that I work with are so much more than “beauty queens.” For starters, we are the only Miss Wisconsin affiliated pageant in Wisconsin that does NOT require that our girls compete in swimsuit. Instead, they give a two minute speech on how they will give back to their community. Empowering, right? Our community helps hold our girls accountable. I love working with them and giving back, but often get judgy faces when I tell people I help with a pageant. I don’t help because of the giltz and glam (although…what art teacher doesn’t love a little sparkle ;)), I help because of the profound difference that this organization makes in the lives of not only the winners, but all of the contestants, and all of the community organizations that we’re a part of.

I am a friend. I feel so incredibly grateful for the friends that have been by my side along my adventure. From Sam (my bff from 3rd grade who just-so-happened to become an art teacher too) to the “Supper 6″ (a group of ADEs I met at a conference less than a week ago and already feel an incredible bond with) and all along the path between, my friends have given me new perspectives, inspiration, and too many laughs and memories to count.

I am unapologetically Bethany, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. You see, all of these parts of me have shaped who I am. I am surrounded by a network of friends, family, teachers, students, and people whose lives and experiences have intertwined with mine to root me firmly in my beliefs with a strong foundation from which to continue to build on. I look to each day with optimism, creativity, and a smile, believing wholeheartedly that I will make a difference.