#he says hell go to snowmobile race tomorrow.. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amorisabelle · 5 years ago

Text

Boom!

INVOLVED: Maya Morgan, Levi Morgan, Isabelle Marshall, Alexander Marshall, Naomi King, Calvin King, Victoria Perry, Dominic Perry, Israel West, and Melaine Ashton TIME FRAME: Monday, December 23, 2019 LOCATION: Elk Trail Lodge; Denver, Colorado SUMMARY: The group of friends, plus Israel and Melaine sit down at the table to enjoy dinner. However, things turn sour as Levi gets jealous of Melaine’s interaction with Israel and Naomi calls Levi out on it. Then the bombs drop.

Maya held her hands up and said, “wait, wait, wait,” easily to the large group of people as they all sat around a large table for dinner. “Israel was telling me that his parents lived in this house for 30 years and were married for 45,” she emphasized.

Alexander looked at Maya and said, “what was he saying?” gently as he forked some food up and into his mouth.

“Israel was telling me that his parents lived in this house for 30 years and were married for 45,” Maya emphasized loudly.

Melaine nodded her head, impressed by what Maya had just said at the table. She dipped her fork into her plate and sheepishly smiled at Israel who was nestled beside her.

Isabelle looked at Maya, nodding along with a small smirk on her face. “Wow,” she breathed out as she ate a bit of her food before she looked across the table at her husband.

“People do not stay married that long no more,” Naomi said shaking her head as she held her fork up ready to take a bite.

“Oh, I think Victoria and Dominic will,” Maya tossed out lovingly.

“I hope so,” Victoria said with a hum and a bit of a shrug.

Isabelle looked at Victoria a bit shocked. “You’re not sure?”

Naomi looked at Victoria and said, “sounds like trouble in paradise?” she asked her, jokingly, but very curious at the same time.

“Ain’t no trouble in paradise,” Dominic said dismissively almost instantly behind Naomi’s comment. People didn’t need to judge the marriage he had based off his wife’s backhanded compliment. He stuck some food into his mouth chewing lightly as he looked over at Victoria.

“You know… you never know what happens, you know.” Victoria began as she cut into her food a bit before she paused, looking up, across at Naomi before she looked to her husband at her side, “um, but you got to be willing to do the work.” She looked back at Naomi, a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Dominic looked at Victoria again and said, “yeah,” trying to hide his disapproval of the way she handled the compliment to them. “We aren’t perfect, you know, and we have our days,” he shrugged lightly. “But, you know, we remember that the bottom line is, we love each other,” he offered, eyes moving from his plate to Victoria again.

Listening to her husband, Victoria sat back nodding slightly. “And it’s the love that gets us through those tough days.” She looked at Naomi and Calvin before she looked back at her husband, “right, sweetie?”

“Mhm,” Dominic says in response to Victoria as he stuck another piece of steak into his mouth.

Maya lifts her wine glass from the table and she raises it saying, “to love,” with a smile on her face. As everyone joins in with her, raising their glasses and saluting love as well.

After they all sipped, Israel noticed the fallen napkin on the floor and he leaned down, picking it up as he said, “oh Melaine, you dropped your napkin.” Lifting up, he handed it to her easily.

“Oh,” Melaine replied looking at him with a smirk. “Thank you,” she said to him kindly as she grabbed the napkin back from him and placed it back on her lap.

Naomi looked over at the only two single people at the table and she smirked, her hand still clutching the glass unlike everyone else as she basked in another glorious sip.

“So, um you’re the big-time sheriff in this town, huh?” Levi asked Israel now as he gestured across the table a bit, interjecting in between him and Melaine.

Israel chuckled a bit dryly. “Eh, I wouldn’t exactly say big time,” he responded easily.

“Well this place is beautiful,” Melaine said to Israel as she grabbed her glass and took a sip.

“Thank you. I think so, too,” Israel said easily. “I’d love to show you guys around before you leave,” he was speaking to all of them but looking directly at Melaine.

“Mm,” Melaine said to the man quickly, “thanks, but I can’t do that,” she replied to him without thinking.

Naomi picked her glass back up and took the longest sip she ever had as she overheard the conversation playing out next to her.

“We’d be up for that, yeah,” Victoria said looking around the table a bit at her friends.

“I’d love to honey,” Dominic said in response to his wife. “What time is good?” he asked Israel from across the table.

“Anytime…” Israel said looking around the table before he added, “how about tomorrow? Early?”

“Sounds good to me,” Alexander said to the group as she wiped his hands clean with his napkin. He cleared his throat a bit. “I don’t know if my wife will be able to make it though,” he said looking at his wife before he looked down at his plate. “She probably has to check her iPhone to see if she’ll be available,” he said as he cut a piece of his steak against his plate.

Maya licked her lips slowly and looked at Alexander before she looked off. What in the hell was that? Looking directly at her friend for only a moment before she looked at her husband.

Victoria looked at Alexander, her eyes a bit wide with shock at his comment. She had no idea where the comment had come from or why he felt the need to say it.

Dominic looked at Alexander as he spoke and his brows rose before he stuck some mashed potatoes into his mouth looking down at the other guest sitting at the table, avoiding Isabelle’s face.

Isabelle stuck her fork into her mouth, looking at her husband, her head cocked to the side slightly as she adjusted herself in her chair. Her eyes bored holes into him as she cleared her throat slightly, eating her food in silence.

Bouncing right off the back of Alexander’s comment, completely unphased, Levi leaned in slightly asking Israel, “so, tell me, how much does a gig like that pay, huh?”

“Oh my God, Levi,” Maya said in response to his words, she looked at Israel and lifted her napkin to cover her food filled mouth. “Forgive my husband, please,” she said pleadingly.

Melaine looked at Levi and her eyes then bounced on Maya before she discreetly eyed Israel next to her, taking a sip of her wine.

“No. I’m just saying it can’t be too much, that’s all…” Levi said, easily picking up his glass and taking a sip of his wine without a care.

Maya looked at her husband, jerking her neck a bit and leaning her chair disgustedly. He was being so damn rude for no reason at all.

Israel slowly looked up from his plate, gazing at Levi, looking into the man's eyes a bit challengingly as he said casually, “well, Levi, I don’t do it for the money.”

Hearing Israel, Isabelle took the time to look up at her husband and say, “some people do it for the enjoyment…” she made a face at him, letting him know that she was irritated by his comment, “hmph, how about that?” she said before she added, “Alexander,” making sure he heard her.

Melaine looked at Levi and she took another sip from her wine glass looking at him over it.

Alexander looked up at his wife, gazing at her with deadly glares.

Naomi smirked at the open window and she said, “Levi does it for the enjoyment,” cutely, adding her two cents in.

Levi looked over at Naomi, a bit amused by her comment. “Oh, you must need another drink, don’t you?”

Maya looked at Naomi and then at Levi as they bantered back and forth across the table.

“And you need some condoms, don’t you?” Naomi said back to him just as quickly and without thought. Sneering slightly at the man, raising her top lip.

Maya looked at her friend confused by Naomi’s comment, why would her husband need condoms? She looked to her husband before she bit her lip, they must have heard them several nights ago in the act. She was somewhat embarrassed now.

As the words left his wife’s lips, Calvin’s eyes went a bit wide and he looked over at Levi immediately, shaking his head at the man, his face pleading.

Levi snorted. “Heh, believe me…” he smirked at her, ignoring Calvin. “You don’t want to go down that road with me.” He lifted his fork and popped some food into his mouth as he stared at Naomi.

Dominic sat his fork down and he said, “how about we go down the ski slope,” chewing slightly. “Skiing,” he added, trying so very hard to change the subject for both parties right now. There was so much being implied here and none of it was good. “Snowboarding?”

Naomi eyes Levi for a very long time, if he said one more word she was going to reach across the table and slap the piss out of him.

Levi gazed right back at Naomi, watching her closely with a challenging look on his face as he chewed his food.

“Yes,” Victoria said nodding along to her husband’s suggestion. It was perfect timing because things were sure to get out of hand between Levi and Naomi and nobody needed that. “Snowboarding.”

“You two?” Alexander said with a head shake. “Snowboarding?” he asked with a chuckle. “Whatever,” he said easily. “Nah,” he told them playfully, “snowmobiles,” he countered, “I can’t do that race stuff,” he told them.

As everyone else went on and on, Israel was leaned over whispering to Melaine quietly.

Melaine chuckled at Israel brushing him off playfully.

Levi looked over at Israel and Melaine and asked, “what’s so funny?” growing a bit irritated with the antics. “You want two share with the table?” he asked, gesturing between the two of them.

Sighing heavily Naomi said, “Levi. Can you please let these single people have a private moment?” she asked him gesturing the man and woman next to her.

“I agree,” Maya said happily, a smirk on her face as she watched Israel and Melaine. She picked her wine glass up and took a sip from the glass.

“Maybe after dinner, you two could go for a ride or something,” Naomi said to both Israel and Melaine, stirring the pot even more now.

Levi looked at Naomi, gazing the woman up and down with irritation as he took his napkin, wiping his mouth some, licking his lips some. He slowly looked back down at his plate, shaking his head slightly, grumbling to himself.

“Oh, that sounds great,” Maya said leaning in with her glass still in her hand. “So nice,” she whispered to her friend across the table.

Melaine looked at Naomi and then to Maya, she tucked her lips in dimples creasing as she sighed internally over the dinner table antics.

“That sounds nice,” Naomi said mimicking her friend as she gazed at Levi from across the table. “Fun,” she smiled, her pearly white teeth shining for all to see as she got her rocks off over this.

Levi leaned forward, his elbows resting against the table as he picked up his wine glass, swirling the contents around a bit. “Melaine ain’t going nowhere with him,” he said aloud for the entire table to hear before taking a sip from his glass.

Maya looked her husband up and down, she sat the wine glass back down against the table and said “why not?” curiously.

“Why can’t this single woman go out with this single man?” Naomi asked confused, looking around the table with a shrug. “I mean…” she said looking back at Levi.

Melaine shook her head slightly at Naomi, she was barking up the wrong tree she might as well stop, truthfully.

Israel looked down at his plate, pushing his food around a bit, his eyes wide. This was about to get messy; he could feel it. He had already picked up on the fact that Levi and Melaine were sleeping together, that was obvious but clearly Maya had no idea. It was actually quite unfortunate; she was too much of a lovely woman to be treated this way.

Leaning against the table, Isabelle held her head up in her hand as she looked down. “Can we, uh, just drop this,” she said. Things did not need to get ugly. Secrets did not need to be shared. Not like this.

“I so agree with Isabelle right now,” Victoria jumped in, looking around at everyone knowingly before her eyes flickered right over to Naomi, needing the woman to stop taunting Levi.

“L-let him answer,” Naomi said pointing to Levi across from her. He acted as if he were supreme in this situation and she had no problem showing him exactly who ran the show when she was around.

“Calvin, get your wife,” Levi said without even looking up as he brought his fork to his mouth. He was over the games now.

Calvin reached across Naomi, trying to grab her glass. “C’mon baby, give me that drink,” he said trying to help defuse the situation that was arising.

Naomi instantly pushed Calvin’s hand aside. “No,” she said to him easily as she took another sip from her glass. “As a matter of fact, let me get another drink,” she said to them all. “So, Levi’s ass can tell us why Melaine can’t go out with Israel,” she emphasized each word looking over at the man.

Levi looked at Naomi before he palmed his face with agitation. He drug his hand down slowly before he rested his elbow against the table, holding his hand to his mouth as he tried to stop himself from saying anything else to the woman. He shook his head with a deep breath before returning to his food.

“Naomi, look… it’s no big deal,” Israel said softly, leaning over to her a bit, trying to stop the blow up. It was clear to him now, very clear. Everyone at the table knew but Maya.

Maya looked at Naomi and tilted her head mouthing to her to stop. “Calm down,” she breathed easily trying to make peace with her friend from across the table. She could see that Levi was getting increasingly pissed off.

Alexander looked between Levi, Maya, Naomi, and Melaine before he looked at Dominic. He sat back in his chair shaking his head before he said, “yeah, calm down Naomi…” reaching out a cautious hand.

Fed up, Levi dropped his fork, throwing his hand up as he looked to Naomi. “Okay… let’s do it.” He said back in his chair, a very unamused smirk on his face as he rubbed his hands together. “Let’s do it,” he repeated himself a bit more enthusiastically this time as he got adjusted in his chair, prepared for the verbal battle. “C’mon,” he said to Naomi.

“Levi,” Maya said as she rested her hand on her husband’s thigh. “Calm down,” she told him seriously not wanting things to escalate. She didn’t know why he and Naomi were at each other’s throat so much this trip, but they could resolve it as adults she knew. “Eat your food,” she said sweetly as she looked into his eyes. “Okay,” she breathed softly.

“No, no. Come on, talk to me,” Levi said speaking over Maya as she tried to calm him down.

“No, let him talk,” Naomi snapped back at Maya easily, firing off everything she had to say after her two other dumb friends made her hold her tongue for the jackass. “Let him talk, Maya,” she said, lifting up her hand to the woman.

“She’s just a little drunk,” Calvin said, still trying to reach for Naomi’s glass.

“You know what Calvin; I might be a little drunk,” Naomi measured with her fingers as she turned to him. “But somebody at this table got some damn secrets,” Naomi said as she turned her head towards Levi again, bitterly.

“Really?” Levi asked Naomi with an expression of try me.

“You guys that’s enough,” Isabelle said as she sat up some, looking towards Naomi.

“No, no, no, no….” Levi said quickly. “Isabelle… somebody got some secrets?” he questioned before he turned his head to look at Naomi with a shrug, “what are they?”

“You know I am so sick of this shit,” Naomi said as she raised her hands up at the table, her face scrunching as she did. “I am sick of it,” she said again. “The reason she can’t go with this man or any other man,” she said pointing to Melaine, “is it because she’s sleeping with yours, Maya…” she said looking over at the plus-sized woman now.

Maya had watched the two argue back and forth, though she thought it was a drag and so very unnecessary, she hadn’t said another word to either. However, at Naomi’s words she looked up, across the table at her. “What?” she said with a raised brow as she looked at Melaine shaking her head. A chuckle actually left her lips and she said, “no,” easily before she looked at Levi.

“Yeah, Maya,” Naomi said confirming it for her, the woman should have known as soon as they did, but they decided to hold the secret this long and for what?

Melaine swapped glances with Maya, she dropped her head for a moment before she looked back up averting her gaze elsewhere.

Maya looked at Naomi and she then looked back over at Melaine.

Alexander shifted in his seat, exhaling softly. This had to be the most fucked up situation ever, on top of it embarrassing and as usual it was at the hands of Naomi and her big mouth. Though he did feel like the woman should have been told the truth. This wasn’t the place or time for it. “Damn,” he said under his breath.

Isabelle looked down quickly, shifting very uncomfortably in her seat. It shouldn’t have come out like this.

Dominic looked at his wife and then over to Maya, he looked at Melaine as well. He couldn’t imagine the hurt Maya felt, but he also couldn’t really shake the guilty feeling he had knowing they all knew and she hadn’t.

Victoria tucked her lips in slightly, her expression very unreadable as she swapped glances with her husband before she looked around the table, unsure of what to say.

Maya looked at the many faces at the table, she felt her blood boil a little. Did everyone know except for her? Here she sat among them with egg on her face, a cheating husband, one backstabbing friend, and countless others who clearly cared nothing about her.

Israel looked around the table very slowly. This was some drama but it was not his drama. He very much felt like he was intruding on a private situation. “Well… uh… thanks for dinner…” he pushed his chair back some, “... but uh, I should be going…” he trailed off as he moved to stand.

Alexander looked at Israel and said, “you may need to hang tight, in case… you know… law enforcement should happen to need to enforced…” he stammered out.

“I’m sorry,” Naomi said shaking her head as she looked at Maya, “but you don’t need that sorry motherfucker,” she added, bitterly. It was the last thing she had to say. “I should beat his ass,” she sneered.

Maya looked at Naomi before she asked Levi. “Is it true?” as she turned to him looking into his eyes.

Levi stared at Naomi, his eyes squinted before he slowly turned to look at his wife. “Yeah… it’s true…” he nodded a bit, “that’s my secret… I am the bad guy,” he announced looking around the table very nonchalantly. “But I’m not the only married person with a secret at this damn table,” he sneered back towards Naomi. He squinted at her once more before he looked at his friends.

Maya shook her head slowly at her husband, God why was this happening to her, Lord. She inhaled sharply, her chin quivering slightly as she leaned forwards, her hands were pressed together and her forehead rested against them. She was here to save her marriage and now it was broken. He cheated on her with her friend. What did she do to deserve that shit?

“Alexander…” Levi shifted in his chair a bit, “have you told your wife about how you got a DNA test on Kenya ‘cause you weren’t sure she was yours?” he asked.

Alexander looked up at his friend upon hearing his name. When he heard the secret that was told he swallowed hard, biting down on his bottom lip. He didn’t bother looking at his wife, he knew what hell this would bring.

Isabelle sat back slowly, looking across the table at her husband with disbelief and shock written across her face.

“Hey now Levi, don’t go telling secrets man,” Calvin interjected nervously, looking over at Levi.

“Oh, no, no, no, c’mon Calvin,” Levi said, shaking his head. “Y’all want to talk about me, hmm?” He pursed his lips slightly. “You threw my secret out there. Let’s lay everyone's secrets across this big ass table. Shall we?” he questioned before he whipped his head over to Isabelle. “Isabelle, have you told your husband about how you got an IUD after you had Kenya and didn’t tell him?” He looked at her expectantly, “hmm? That’s what Maya told me.”

Alexander looked at Levi again as he called his wife, the man needed to shut his damn mouth at the point of time. But no, he insisted on continuing. The news he dropped shocked him; his wife had been lying to him. He looked up at her heat brokenly, he gave her everything and all he wanted in return was a son but she’d already screwed him out of the long before he started his fight for it.

Isabelle looked over at Levi as he spoke her name, her jaw slackening slightly before she looked down, folding her arms over her chest slightly, avoiding her husband's gaze. She looked up at him for half a second before she dropped her eyes once more at his stare.

“I’m so sorry Alexander, so sorry, but your chances of having a boy? A bit slim right about now,” Levi said easily.

Alexander looked at Levi, his words couldn’t cut deeper if he wanted them to. He rested back against the chair defeatedly; Levi had won.

“Levi, now wait a minute. This has gone too far,” Victoria said sitting up in her seat, leaning forward a bit as she began to point with her finger, speaking with her hands. “You are going too far; you’re getting really dangerous now. You need to stop this,” she pressed. She had no idea what other secrets the man knew, but things were getting way too out of control.

Levi took a breath, letting Victoria, the perfectionist of the group say her little piece before he interjected, “Dominic…” he smirked slightly. “Since you guys walk around here like the perfect couple,” he lifted his hands using air-quotes, “will you please inform your wife about how you came literally crying to my house asking, ’how could she be so stupid and not strap your son in his car seat’,” he licked his lips before he hummed.

Dominic looked up as Levi called his name, this situation was not good at all right now. He needed to be stopped like his wife said. He didn’t know what dirt he was about to pull up on him but seeing as he loved his wife and didn’t do much of anything. It could only be one damn thing. He gazed at the man, daring him almost yet he did it anyway. Fuck. He turned his head not wanting to look at his wife, he almost did but he continued to look forward, ashamed. He felt that then, now he was trying to get passed it, and he knew his wife was hurting more than he.

Victoria turned her head very slowly now, looking at her husband with smoldering eyes. How could she be so stupid. She stared at the side of his face. She was so upset and felt so disrespected that she didn’t know what to do.

“You are fucking low down, you got damn bastard,” Naomi said as the man continued to dish out everyone’s dirt like he wasn’t the one to fuck himself over in all of this.

“Shut up!” Levi barked across the table at Naomi.

“No, you, shut the fuck up,” Naomi barked as she slammed her hand down against the table. “Bitch ass,” she said gazing at him. “You airing all of this shit because of some foul fucking move you chose to make,” she said.

“Calvin please!” Levi said pointing between the two.

Looking away, Calvin mumbled to himself. “Oh fuck…”

“Please tell this woman the truth!” Levi grunted out, “and I fucking pray that it sets you free. I pray, man.” He said pointing his hand at them.

Looking dead at Levi, Calvin shook his head dramatically, pleading with the man through his eyes. “Levi…” he rushed out.

Ignoring it all, Levi went on. “But I’m telling you, tell this woman how Alexander had to give you a shot because you had VD.”

Calvin shook his head up until the very moment Levi dropped the bomb before he looked away quickly, staring at the table.

“Let’s talk about condoms now, shall we, Naomi?” Levi questioned.

Naomi looked between both Levi and Calvin before the secret was told for all to hear. She looked at Alexander before she said, “oh,” with shock and sarcasm laced in her voice. “So, you got VD?” she asked, turning to her husband fully.

“Checkmate,” Levi said as he picked up his glass, sipping some of his wine.

“Who have you,” she emphasized, “been with?” Naomi asked him as she looked him up and down. She just had to hear this one.

Leaning over to Naomi a bit, Calvin whispered, “Naomi… let’s discuss this in private.”

“No. You know what,” Naomi said looking away from her husband, “you motherfuckers have been talking in private e-fucking-nough,” she told him. “How long has your dirty ass had it?” she asked him.

“A week…” Calvin whispered, looking at Naomi out the corner of his eyes.

“Was it Aleeyah?” Naomi asked him next, not giving him much time to answer her as she fired off one thing after the next.

Looking at her out of the corner of his eyes more, Calvin’s eyes darted from her to the table then back and forth again as he nodded slightly.

“Hmph,” left Naomi’s mouth and she turned slightly. “Nah,” she said, shaking her head pettily. “You didn’t get it from her,” she told him smoothly, a lie from the pits of hell. “You got it from Daniel,” she told him smugly as she looked over at him again.

Looking at her crazily now, Calvin said, “what the fuck are you talking about? I ain’t gay.”

“No, you dumb fucking fool. I slept with his ass,” Naomi said pointing to herself. “I got a shot,” she said cutely as she raised her hands up looking around at everyone. “I was just waiting for you to say something,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “BOOM!” she said, raising two fake guns in the air as she got comfortable sitting back in her chair without a care.

Calvin stared at her as she admitted that she slept with whoever this Daniel person was before he nodded slowly, looking away from her. That made sense. He typically wrapped it up with Aleeyah. He only slipped up and didn’t use a condom every now and again. Sitting there, he let it all sink in before he turned and launched himself at Naomi, wrapping his large hands around her neck, squeezing tightly.

As the man lunged at her, wrapping his hands around her throat she fought against him. Grabbing his hands, Naomi dug her nails into his flesh as she yanked pushing her chair back and fighting against him.

“Don’t!” Victoria screamed out in shock as Calvin physically attacked Naomi.

Alexander hopped up and he moved for Calvin, grabbing the large man from behind; he tried to break up the physical altercation before him, in disbelief. He pulled the man off roughly as he told him, “stop,” angrily. “Come on man,” he said, “man, come on,” he added.

Isabelle, who had been sitting there mute, looked up quickly, her mouth dropping as Calvin choked Naomi.

Levi sat there, watching the entire thing and he took another sip from his glass. “I hope he breaks your fucking throat. TOUCHDOWN!” He spat out bitterly.

“Get off me,” Naomi yelled as she struck Calvin in the face, another individual's body wrapped around her pulling them apart. “Don’t be putting your hands on me motherfucker!” she yelled at him. “Arrest his ass,” she said angrily as she stood up from the chair trying to reach through Israel to get to her husband once more.

Calvin grimaced as he gripped Naomi by her beck, choking her as hard as he could as Alexander and Israel tried to pull him off, even as Naomi hit him in the face. He gripped her until Alexander managed to pull him away and he huffed hard.

“Get his ass. You see he trying to fucking kill me,” Naomi said to the officer. “Arrest him, Troy,” she said to her.

“Let me go!” Calvin growled, shoving Alexander off of him. “That’s why I slept with her! You so fucking evil!”

“You know what, you put your hands on the wrong fucking one Calvin!” Naomi said to the him her veins protruding from her neck.

Staring at Naomi, Calvin’s face scrunched with so much anger. “You know what, I’m out of here.” He grunted, shoving Alexander out of his way as he stormed off.

“Get your stupid ass out of here!” Naomi said in agreement to her husband.

Standing up now, Levi nodded. “Now, that’s the best idea I heard since we got up here. Let’s cut this trip short,” he said, turning to look at Melaine. “Baby, go pack our stuff. We outta here.” He sat down once more, looking at Maya.

Melaine looked up at Levi, a little shaken by what just played out. When he spoke to her directly, she did as she was told, getting up quickly and rushing away from the table as she moved upstairs.

Adjusting himself in his seat, Levi angled his body towards his wife, leaning against the table a bit. “Look, I’m sorry that you had to find out this way.” He sighed softly. “You could thank your friend over there but… it’s over.”

Maya continued to sit there, rocking slightly in the chair as she shook her head at all of this. She wanted a baby, she wanted them to work, she was trying to be what he wanted her to be and this is how he repaid her. For all the abuse both verbal and physical, for all the nights she spent alone and all the times he embarrassed her. He’d managed to finally break her, all of her.

At his remark Naomi rolled her eyes huffing from her now seated position and she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Now, I’ll be more than fair, but I want a divorce,” Levi told her straight up. He grew quiet for a moment before a thought occurred to him. “Hey, you can have the rental property.” He gently placed his hand on her shoulder, as if he was being thoughtful. “I’ll have Ramirez put bars on there for you… don’t thank me or nothing. It’s a rough neighborhood.” He thought some more. “You can have your car and I’ll figure everything else out.” He stared at the side of Maya’s face, looking at her expectantly. “Huh?” he snapped by her ear. “Hello…” he said before he turned away from her moving to stand up, “whatever…”

Maya looked at Levi as he spoke every other word reaching her ear as he did. All she could do was watch his lips as they flapped and she swallowed hard. He snapped at her and then she snapped, he said whatever and it brought her out of her own subconscious. She back handed him across his face as hard as she could muster as she stood up, gazing down at him. She gripped his face in her hand, her nails digging into his flesh and she asked, “how could you?” before she grabbed a steak knife with her other hand. “I gave you everything” she said as she looked into his eyes, sliding the knife across the table.

Naomi looked across the table at her friend as she slapped the man across his face which was less than he deserved. She should kill his ass. However, when the woman picked the knife up, she gasped slightly, “Maya,” she called out.

Dominic sat there next to his wife trying to understand how this all came about. It was the most unnecessary thing they experienced as friends. Looking at Maya he stood up slowly, “Maya,” he said in unison with Naomi.

Alexander stood resting against the back of the chair he once was sitting in and he gazed at Levi. The man truly disgusted him. He had done more than enough yet that was not enough for him at all. As Maya slapped the man, he bit his lips, he deserved it. However, when she grabbed the knife he shifted on his feet prepared to stop her.

Levi fell to the floor as Maya smacked him and he looked up at her shocked as she gripped him by his face. “Maya,” he said as he gazed up at her, his eyes wide as his eyes moved to her other hand holding the knife.

“Oh. My. God.” Isabelle said quickly as she sat there.

Victoria looked back at Levi as he rested against the floor, watching in silence.

Maya watched as he laid there, he had the nerve to call her name. She hated his ass so much right now but she couldn’t bring herself to do anything further. She couldn’t kill him because love wouldn’t let her. So instead she stabbed the table and moved to leave the dining room. She walked towards the door bitterly snatching her coat down and walking out the front door slamming it shut behind her.

“Should've killed his ass,” Naomi said under her breath as she watched Maya leave.

#thread #thread: boom #thread with: naomi savannah #thread with: maya aria #thread with: melaine rose #thread with: alexander luke #thread with: victoria annalise #thread with: dominic jamal #thread with: calvin isaiah #thread with: israel bronx #thread with: levi andre

14 notes · View notes

kristablogs · 4 years ago

Text

These ultramarathoners say life is easier after running 40 miles on frozen backwoods trails

‘I could do this all night,’ O’Neill thought. (Ackerman + Gruber/)

It is 10°F outside of the wood-beamed shelter at St. Croix State Park, a 34,000-acre pine-and-oak expanse in eastern Minnesota. Hell, it’s cold inside, despite two fireplaces blazing, their smoke pulled into flared metal chimneys that resemble the business ends of rockets. The 54 athletes standing around keep their hats on, for the most part. Each has spent good money to embark on exactly the kind of endeavor most people would pay to avoid: running or skiing—whichever suits their fancy—for 40 miles. At night. In Minnesota. In January. While pulling a sled packed with 30-plus pounds of supplies.

This torturefest is called the St. Croix 40 Winter Ultra, and its participants find pleasure in the hardship. At 4:30 p.m. they jiggle their legs and apply insulating tape to their cheeks and noses while the organizers give a prerace pep talk.

Of sorts.

“No one died last year,” says Jamison Swift, deadpanning. “Let’s keep it going.”

He soon passes the stage to Lisa Kapsner-Swift, his co-organizer and wife, who talks about what the racers can do if they feel like they’re coming down with the winter-ultra baddies: trench foot, frostbite, hypothermia.

The advice washes over Meredith O’Neill, who wears glasses and bright blue snow pants; two Heidi braids hang down her shoulders. She’s prepared for months, training to be alone, cold, and tired for what might feel like forever as she runs across an Upper Midwest oak savanna, passes through stands of pines, and treks across acres of trees felled by a storm. She’ll go and go and go until she returns, finally, hopefully, to this same building sometime tomorrow.

It’s fun. Not the normal, easy kind that comes with games of horseshoes or beach volleyball. Wilderness-seeking enthusiasts often call that “Type I Fun.” Instead, this is the more complicated variety, “Type II Fun,” which basically encompasses an activity—like backpacking up a steep mountain or scaling a sheer rock face—that suuuuuucks when you’re doing it but seems cool in retrospect. (Their categorization system also includes “Type III” activity, which is never actual fun and puts your life in danger.)

Type II recreation appeals to a variety of nature-loving folks, including a growing community of runners called ultramarathoners—those who think the traditional 26.2-mile course isn’t a big-enough test of physical endurance and mental fortitude. Their events mostly take place on remote trails, rather than on big-city streets with live bands and aid stations stocked like curbside Trader Joe’s. There were just over 100,000 finishes in ultraraces around the world in 2018, compared to 1.1 million for marathons. The extreme feats have to cover at least 31 miles (50 kilometers) and sometimes include extra challenges, like St. Croix’s sleds and snow. For tonight’s contest, participants must bring along, among other things, insulated water containers, gear for sleeping in the elements, a stove kit, and enough food to finish the course with 3,000 calories to spare.

The St. Croix winter ultramarathon covers 40 miles—from dusk till done—and draws athletes considering longer events. (Ackerman + Gruber/)

Sports psychologists have investigated the why of races like this one, looking closely at people who think that “more than a marathon” sounds like a terrific Saturday. What they’ve found is that ultrarunners get a kick out of tackling self-imposed challenges, forming community while also pursuing solitude, exploring the wilderness as well as their own limits, and then applying the idea that they can nudge their own boundaries to their tamer everyday lives.

If you ask athletes like O’Neill why they push themselves to and through mile 37 toward the finish line, their anecdata matches scientists’ findings pretty well. “In road marathons, there’s a lot of people, and I’m more introverted,” she says. “I wanted something a little quieter, more nature-filled.”

After her first ultra, a 31-miler outside of Minneapolis, O’Neill knew this was the sport for her. It wasn’t about fast finish times or jostling with other competitors. Participants like her go slower, mostly alone, through pretty places. She liked that. “I could do this for eight hours,” she thought. “I could do this for 12 hours; I could do this all night.”

O’Neill realized she could continue beyond where her biology told her to stop. That it was thrilling to go past her usual boundaries. “Your brain is holding you back a little bit to protect you,” she says. “But that’s sort of a wiggly, wobbly line that you can push further.”

It’s an idea exercise scientist Tim Noakes first suggested in the 1990s and dubbed the “central governor” theory: Your brain sends a signal to the rest of your body, informing the muscles that they’re too tired to possibly go on, and that if they do, they might damage themselves. But that signal comes long before it needs to, when the body still has tons of energy left.

Finding out how much literal and figurative fuel she has propels O’Neill into the now-single-digit Minnesota night—that, and seeking the kind of peace physical exertion provides. “It’s one of the few times I don’t really think about anything other than how far I’ve gone and how far I have to go and whether I feel okay,” she says. “I’m very present. I like it. I like having that calm.”

At 5:55 p.m., when it’s just below 10°F, O’Neill stands in full moonlight next to her sled, which is about the size of a Flexible Flyer a kid would ride downhill. Some entrants have wrapped their gear in fancy REI stowage; others merely tote big, blue IKEA bags with the handles knotted together. O’Neill’s kit hides in a black duffel. Her camp stove, like everyone else’s, rests atop the snow, ready to be lit in order to show that she can boil water in the cold—required before she can start moving her legs. Unlike road races and traditional ultras, this event requires all runners to demonstrate not just that they’re able to last a long time, but also that they have survival skills to fall back on. When the official says, “GO!” to signal the start, O’Neill’s cooker engulfs itself in a ball of flame, then settles down. A hundred feet away, two rows of primary-colored triangle flags wave from the start of the course.

Across the snowy ground, a participant named Bill Hansel has decked out his sled with Christmas lights, their blinks reflecting aggressively off the white flakes. Nearby, a spectator in an inflatable T. rex costume dances, a Cretaceous cheerleader. Hansel is a veteran ultrarunner who also organizes his own events, the Storm Trail Race Series, as a fundraiser for youth mental-health initiatives. Like O’Neill, Hansel loves what distance challenges do to his brain. “You’re alone with your thoughts a lot,” he says. “It’s my meditation.” But he also enjoys the community. “Trail runners are a very welcoming group. Everybody wants to help everybody,” he continues. Even if you’re mindfully alone for 25 miles, “you can pick up a random person” in the middle of nowhere and chitchat through ragged breaths.

Runner Meredith O’Neill likes being surrounded by nature. (Ackerman + Gruber/)

Hansel starts working to get his cold fuel to light.

Standing still like that, the elements start to intrude. At first it doesn’t feel so bad. Crisp! But then you breathe in sharply, and the insides of your nose flash-freeze together for a second. Frigid! Your lungs contract. Ouch! Then all of a sudden you realize that the iciness has slithered into your veins. It’s part of you now. And just as you can’t really remember exactly what it felt like to be a teenager, you can’t recall what it felt like to be warm. Maybe, you think, you never were. Maybe you’ll never be again. But the seemingly never-ending chill is temporary.

This, too, shall pass. Hansel talks in phrases like this sometimes—aphorisms interspersed with regular sentences, snippets of wisdom that are about running but really could be about anything: “There’s ups and downs, and it will get better if you keep going.” “Even if you run the same race, it’s not the same course.” “Don’t look at the big picture.”

That last one will buoy him throughout this challenge, as it has during every other ultra. He always, for instance, sets the timer on his watch for 10 minutes. When it’s up, he’ll take a drink of water. He’ll reset his watch. He’ll shift his attention to the next interval. “I have run 200 miles, 95 hours, 10 minutes at a time,” he says. He’s persisted so long that he’s hallucinated recreational vehicles (multiple times)—tales he swaps like drinking stories with other Type II enthusiasts.

This, though, is his first winter ultra, and he’s going into it with the same three big aims he always has: to finish, to have fun, to not die. He likes to play around with what he calls his superpower, which is the ability to go very slowly for a very long time. To take pleasure in how the moonlight hits the snow, to really notice his body at work, to hear only his footsteps and internal monologue, and to feel from afar the support of friends and family.

Soon, the water in his stove bubbles, and he begins moving toward his trifecta of goals. As the yellow moon rises over the trees, Hansel jogs between the flags, which lead down a snowmobile trail. He and O’Neill and the others will follow the path for the first 24 miles of the race, watching for yellow signs with blue reflective arrows to appear out of the darkness, showing the way to the only checkpoint.

More than one-quarter of the 54 people who set out on this evening will quit there.

O’Neill prepped for months to run the St. Croix trail ultra in frigid temperatures (Ackerman + Gruber/)

So, yeah, the St. Croix 40 Winter Ultra does claim some victims. But it’s actually one of the easier cold-weather endurance events out there. The Swifts founded it specifically for people who weren’t ready yet for the truly masochistic affairs: the Iditarod Trail Invitational 1,000, the Alaskan original and still the mother of all these races; the Tuscobia Winter Ultra, whose 160-mile route is a step toward qualifying for the Iditarod; and the Arrowhead 135, a challenge that begins at International Falls in northern Minnesota and that more than half of all starters don’t finish. (The numbers in the names refer, of course, to distance in miles.)

The Swifts want to give anyone interested in trying a winter ultra a safe place to practice something “short”—especially considering that even out here, in a straightforward test, it’s not very hard to die simply by standing still for too long. That’s why the runners have to show off their survival skills: so that someday, if they do have to set up a subzero camp, they’ll be ready.

Kapsner-Swift gets that. She does similar races herself. Last year she completed her first 24-hour run. “It was terrible,” she says, “and I loved it so much.” Her statement echoes the dichotomy articulated by another St. Croix participant, Adam Warden: “You want something that’s going to suck,” he says. “And be beautiful.”

For Kapsner-Swift and Warden, and for most ultrarunners, getting through the gut-wrenching parts is a game, like a tough chess match. “Not to get all existential,” Kapsner-Swift says, “but we have this incredible privilege of having, generally speaking, very comfortable lives.” That’s great—most of the time. But challenge is good for human beings. It’s how we grow. “Sometimes a little fear and self-doubt go a long way,” another participant, Kari Gibbons, explains. “I don’t feel that anywhere else in my life. That means I’m not pushing myself. I’m not taking a risk. If I do feel that, I know I’m doing something important.”

If life doesn’t give you lemons, in other words, you should probably pluck a few and bite down. Then, when you actually do get lemons, you’ll know what to do with them. That shift—from athletic challenge to regular existence—may be easy for ultrarunners, according to a 2014 dissertation from organizational psychologist Anthony Holly, now a director of strategy and analytics at PRO Unlimited, a workforce management company. He wanted to understand how these athletes’ mental toughness plays out in the workplace. By interviewing runners, he projected that the discipline, patience, and tenacity they use to complete races are skills they could transfer to job environments. It sounds a little Hallmarkian to say, “Because I could plod more miles, I knew I could handle the frustrations of office politics and rough deadlines.” But it seems to work. The St. Croix athletes have found that the extremes help them cope with personal and professional troubles.

St. Croix athletes pull sleds with emergency supplies. (Ackerman + Gruber/)

To understand why people initially decide to go to such lengths, Rhonna Krouse-Adams, an associate professor of health science at the College of Western Idaho, studied endurance athletes. After she failed to find any data on women ultrarunners, she decided to focus her research on them. She herself was one, and had become fascinated by the community and camaraderie among these women, who technically are competitors and mostly fly solo. “They’re noncompetitive people who form almost a family unit through this process,” she thought.

Surveying 344 participants, Krouse-Adams found they cared about health and used running to give themselves a sense of well-being. They focused on self-centric goals, like just finishing the race, rather than outward-facing ones, like besting a competitor. “The sense of freedom and accomplishment” topped the “why” list. “A sense of belonging was really high,” she says. It’s a whole identity—not just a hobby. According to a 2018 study, finishers are more motivated by their group affiliation and a feeling of happiness and fulfillment than those who complete shorter distances.

This is a self-selecting bunch, though, Krouse-Adams points out. “You can’t commit to something for 25 hours a week and have a lot of other commitments,” she says. “This was not a sport chosen by families. Not by moms.” Perhaps not surprisingly, other researchers have found that ultrarunners in the United States are around 85 percent male, 90 percent white, and more educated and richer than average. It’s a pursuit often taken up by those with lots of leisure time and money to spend on the $100-plus entry fees.

Life circumstances aside, not everyone is mentally suited to endurance events. Gavin Breslin, a sports and exercise psychologist at Ulster University, sees a focus on self-challenge. “The marathon is achievable,” says Breslin, who also coaches a team of Olympic hopefuls. Ultrarunners ask, “‘What can you do above that?' There’s risk-taking involved.” The uncertainty is that you might not be able to do what you set out to do. The fist-pumping triumph is when you do it anyway. As O’Neill puts it, “That was liberating, to know that when I thought things were over and done, I had a little more.”

Breslin and his associates have also looked at how distance athletes score on a personality test of five major traits, sometimes called the Big Five, which in concert can define character: extroversion, agreeableness, openness, neuroticism, and conscientiousness. Ultrarunners tend to score significantly higher than average for that last trait, thanks to some mysterious mix of genetics and upbringing. You can cultivate this quality, he says. “You can develop goal setting. Somewhere within us all, there’s a level of ultraendurance.”

At the 24-mile checkpoint, some of the St. Croix participants might be questioning Breslin’s assessment. The ones who decide to bow out join volunteers inside a billowing warming tent that looks like it was fashioned from the inflatable T. rex at the starting point. Other crew members stand slump-shouldered around a fire, waiting for each bedraggled, frigid racer to emerge from the darkness.

The first athlete arrives around 10 p.m., but the last runner doesn’t get there until around 2:30 a.m. If they plan to take on the last 16 miles, they have to again prove they have the skills to stay alive in an emergency. They must stop, set up their bivy sack (basically a body-shaped tent that envelops their sleeping bag), climb into the makeshift bed, wait around 30 seconds, then pack it all up before leaving. That sounds like a pain, sure. But no big deal compared to running 40 miles, right?

Counterclockwise from top: foam pad, sleeping bag and bivy sack, water bottle sleeves, camp pot and stove, fuel (red canister), snacks, trekking poles, microspikes. (Ackerman + Gruber/)

Wrong: When the temp nears zero, and you’re sweaty, you get cold quick—the kind of chill that seems to attach itself to your DNA. Some who feel too frosty after their survival demo, or just beaten, call it quits and either walk a mile (as the crow flies) on a road back to the finish line or catch a ride in a volunteer’s car.

Around 3 a.m., back at the starting point, the race crew begins making breakfast in the shelter for the people who’ve returned, either humbled from the checkpoint or triumphant from the trail. There are flaky eggs, bacon, Krusteaz pancakes, bags of Colby Jack cheese, and Activia probiotic yogurt. Also a big orange cooler with a piece of paper taped to its side: “TANG!” On the registration table, not-yet-cooked bacon languishes—which is fine, because it’s still too cold inside for bacteria to propagate.

Hansel comes in around 4 a.m., shaken. Shaky, actually. His lips are blue like Frost Glacier Freeze Gatorade, and his fork wobbles as he brings eggs up to them, or tries to cut into the pancakes.

“I had dark times starting after about five miles,” Hansel says. He didn’t really see anyone else—at all—till the checkpoint. “I’m used to dark times,” he continues, “but not that early.”

To keep going, he says he thought of his family and all of the people who support him. Would he do it again? No. “Was it fun?” Hansel asks aloud. “Yes,” he answers himself. Perhaps that’s Type 2.5 Fun. (Within a couple months, though, he would be training for next year’s St. Croix 40 Winter Ultra.)

When O’Neill comes in around two hours later, after more than 12 hours on the trail, she looks jubilant. She caught that heightened state of being she’s always chasing through the woods—what psychologists call “flow,” or total absorption in a task. You lose track of time, you feel totally in control, like you are in charge of yourself and the world. “I’m not thinking of anything but what I’m doing, my footsteps, what’s around me,” she says.

She removes her coat, revealing a pale blue argyle sweater, the kind you might wear to the office, and a down running skirt over her bright blue snow pants. The race appears to have barely fazed her. She says, in fact, that it was “90 percent Type I fun.” Her only trouble was that all her food froze—except for a stash of Twinkies. But no big deal: She just ate Twinkies, fully present to sense their spongy outsides, their gooey centers, their sugar flowing into her veins. Crisis averted. Achievement unlocked. Game won, and over.

This story appeared in the Summer 2020, Play issue of Popular Science.

0 notes

scootoaster · 4 years ago

Text

These ultramarathoners say life is easier after running 40 miles on frozen backwoods trails

‘I could do this all night,’ O’Neill thought. (Ackerman + Gruber/)

Of sorts.

“No one died last year,” says Jamison Swift, deadpanning. “Let’s keep it going.”

The St. Croix winter ultramarathon covers 40 miles—from dusk till done—and draws athletes considering longer events. (Ackerman + Gruber/)

Runner Meredith O’Neill likes being surrounded by nature. (Ackerman + Gruber/)

Hansel starts working to get his cold fuel to light.

More than one-quarter of the 54 people who set out on this evening will quit there.

O’Neill prepped for months to run the St. Croix trail ultra in frigid temperatures (Ackerman + Gruber/)

St. Croix athletes pull sleds with emergency supplies. (Ackerman + Gruber/)

Counterclockwise from top: foam pad, sleeping bag and bivy sack, water bottle sleeves, camp pot and stove, fuel (red canister), snacks, trekking poles, microspikes. (Ackerman + Gruber/)

Hansel comes in around 4 a.m., shaken. Shaky, actually. His lips are blue like Frost Glacier Freeze Gatorade, and his fork wobbles as he brings eggs up to them, or tries to cut into the pancakes.

This story appeared in the Summer 2020, Play issue of Popular Science.

0 notes