Sarah and Jude #1

One week, five days, fourteen hours, and thirty five, no, thirty six minutes since Jude was last seen.  There was no sign of her anywhere as if she had simply vanished into thin air.  Which is highly unlikely considering the two-story town of Roswell, New Mexico that they lived in.  New Mexico’s finest had searched from here to Albuquerque and back.  Sarah was distraught and plagued with fear and loneliness since that fateful Monday when Mrs. Duchamp rang her in a panic to ask if she had seen her 17 year old daughter.  Typically, Jude would spend the night at Sarah’s on the weekends and vice versa but not the weekend in question.  

The two best friends had spent Saturday afternoon at the movie theater and doing their usual giggling and chatting over the cute boys in their class who Sarah lacked the courage to talk to.  Most importantly, Josh Reemer, the senior captain of the football team who Sarah had been in love with since 7th grade Physical Science when she was saw him on her first day of school in Roswell.  Years later, she still got butterflies whenever he passed her in the halls.  Like a swarm of bats trying to escape a dark cave, her stomach would twist in a knot whenever she saw him.  

After dinner that evening, the girls went their separate ways.  Something seemed suspicious about Jude.  Usually, she was the goofy pretty girl with a keen sense of humor who developed long before most of her peers.  She flaunted her sex appeal and wasn’t afraid to be the center of attention and actually craved the spotlight.  On this night, she was calm and reserved.  Sarah didn’t really think much of it at the time. Maybe subconsciously she did, but not enough to comment on it.  When she dropped Sarah off at home, she gave her a long hug goodbye and almost looked as if she might cry.

“Are you ok, girl?” Sarah asked.

“Oh yeah.  I just think those beans from that chimichanga might be disagreeing with me.” Both girls laughed and Sarah exited the car.

Her cell phone beeped in her purse as she entered her home.  She took her shoes off and left them by the door.  (Her stepmother, Lisa, was adamant about this and it was easier to oblige than to argue).  Before she could check her phone, her father called her into the living room where he and her older brother, Randy, were engaged in sports news at a very high decibel.  

“How was your day, honey?”  Her father, Steve asked.  His tone was always warm when it came to Sarah.  She was his only daughter and was treated like a princess since the day she was born.

She took a seat on the sofa next to him.  Reaching for the remote to lower the volume, Randy snatched it from the coffee table before she had the chance.  “This is important, Scuzz!” he insulted.

“One, it’s only football. And two, It’s too loud.  I can barely hear myself think,” she replied, looking at her father who then nodded at Randy.  The volume came down four notches.  “Thank you,”  she smiled, sarcastically.

“It was a good day, dad.  Thanks for asking,”  she looked down at her phone.  The message was from Jude.  She found this odd being that she literally said goodbye to her not more than three minutes prior.

*Hey, girl!  Just wanted to tell you that I love ya. *

*Thanks for being my best friend.                        *

Sweet but strange, she thought.  She replied with the expected teenage emoji text message of hearts and smiley faces.  

That was the last text message she would receive from Jude.

Sunday went by accordingly.  Sarah reached out to Jude a few times throughout the day but never got a reply.  She checked Facebook and Instagram and noticed that she hadn’t been online since the afternoon before.  Trying to not worry too much about it, she assumed that she was probably on one of her study binges where she spends the day sharpening up on her French or Spanish or reading up on some good old fashioned U.S. History.  It wasn’t until that phone call Monday morning from Mrs. Duchamp that her heart began to sink.

“Sarah, it’s Margie Duchamp,” she stammered.  “Is Jude with you?”

“Uh, no,” Sarah replied, wiping the sleep from her eyes.  It was 6:28AM, seventeen minutes before her alarm would ring to wake her for school.  

“Are you sure?  I thought she was staying at yours Saturday.”

“She dropped me off after dinner Saturday but I haven’t heard from her since…” she sat up, now wide awake and slightly worried.

“Jesus, she never came home,” Mrs. Duchamp started, her voice trembling.  “She sent me a text message to let me know she would be staying with you and that was it.  I assumed you two were busy yesterday so I didn’t expect to hear from her-I don’t know wha-,” Sarah could hear scuffling as if the phone had dropped.  “I’ve got to call the police, Sarah.  Please call me if you hear from her.” ~click~

Nearly two weeks later, Jude was still missing and the entire town was worried about her.  There were posters everywhere.  Schools, Grocery Stores, Churches.  In their community, a missing child wasn’t common and they feared that her life was in danger.  Mrs. Duchamp was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.  Her estranged husband had come to stay with her during this desperate and tragic time.  It was unlike Jude to runaway.  She was always so reliable and never wanted to worry her mother. This was more than out of the ordinary, this was scary.

Sarah had become distant toward everyone around her.  She felt guilty for not knowing why Jude’s behavior had been odd that last night they saw each other.  She felt somewhat responsible for her disappearance having been the last person to see her. Her days were spent upstairs in her bedroom with the door locked.  The loneliness she felt without Jude made her heart feel empty. Sarah didn’t have any other close friends besides Jude and now she had become “the girl with the missing friend”.  She hated it. The attention was too much.  All she wanted was her friend back.

She lay on her bed and let her pillow catch her tears.  What happened to you, Jude? She hugged her pillow and that’s when she heard it, a crunching sound.  That wasn’t there before, she thought.  When she looked inside the pillowcase, there was an envelope with her name on it-it was in Jude’s handwriting.

She ripped open the envelope with fury.  There was a small piece of notebook paper inside with a letter from Jude.  What the-? She unfolded the paper and almost didn’t want to read the note.  She was certain that this envelope wasn’t there this morning before school.  She would have noticed it.  Had Jude been here?  Had she been in her bedroom today?  What was going on?

Sarah, it’s me, Jude. I know you’re probably worried but you need not worry. I am fine. I am healthy. I am safe. I am in no danger. Please don’t show this to anyone.  I’m actually happier than I’ve ever been and you can be too.  Meet me tonight at Chaves Courthouse at midnight.  I’ll explain everything.

I love you.

~Jude

P.s. it has to be tonight.

“Oh, Jude.  What the hell have you gotten yourself into?”

Christina #1

Her heart beat for the first time in nearly a decade.  The feel of his hand in her’s was familiar.  The skin in his palm had changed over the last thirty years.  It was older and soft.  She could feel the damage.  She could feel the pain.  His heart had been through more pain than her’s and she was aware of that now.  It was evident in his touch.  His body yearned to be loved.  All these years, Christina had assumed that she was alone.  She was mistaken.  John was always there.  This was love.

He moved in closer to her.  Their arms brushed against each other’s.  She could smell the faint scent of tobacco and Pinot Noir on his breath.  She could see the glow of the fireplace in his eyes.  He looked so peaceful and calm.  It was as if he was finally at ease.  There was nothing to worry or panic about.  His best friend was here and she was available.  They looked into each other’s eyes.  A tear formed in the corner of Christina’s eye.  He used his free hand to wipe it away and smiled at her.  The lines around his eyes were new to her.  Crows feet were sexy on John and time had been generous to his features.  There were still some remnants of that six year old boy that she met so many years before.

Since her divorce from Peter, Christina hadn’t enjoyed or even entertained the romantic company of another.  Being close to another man was frightening to her.  She hadn’t wanted to share her time or her body with any of the set up dates that her manager had planned for her to “get back out there” and “play the field”.  But not John.  John knew her better than anyone.  Better than her former husband whom she shared four children with and had spent the last twenty years trying to please.  John knew her soul.

John had also experienced a divorce from his high school sweetheart, Diane.  His having been seven years prior, but nonetheless.  There were three children and four homes across the country that they shared.  Not to mention vehicles, artwork, and other expensive material items that meant nothing to John.  Post divorce wasn’t all parties and sex as Diane had assumed he wanted.  He dated here and there but nothing serious came out of it.  Just the usual women interested in the lifestyle of a rock star.  There was positively no depth and he had questioned if his divorce was a terrible mistake.  However, Christina gave him hope for love.  This was his chance for redemption.

“You are so beautiful, Christina DeMarco,” he started.  “You don’t have to worry.  I’m not going to hurt you.  I never could.  I’m sorry for the pain that you’ve been through.  I love you, you know?”

“Why me?” She asked, tears now filling her eyes uncontrollably.  John wiped her cheeks with his fingertips.  “After all this time.  After all these years.  It could have been anyone.  And let's be honest, you’ve done the leg work.  So, why me?”

“It’s simple, Kitten,” he smiled, giving her hand a tight squeeze.  “Because you have always been there for me. You’re my oldest friend and we’ve been through so much together.  My life hasn’t been filled with the  glamourous moments that everyone assumes and I could always rely on you.  YOU saw me when I was invisible.”

She leaned in and pressed her lips against his.  Just as soft as she had remembered that time in the studio when they were fifteen years old.  When they shared their first sexual experience together.  He held her face in his hands and kissed her back, slightly firm as if he had been holding it in for years and was just waiting for his chance to taste her mouth, because he had.  There was nothing sweeter than the taste of her tongue on his.  Christina didn’t realize until that moment that for thirty years she had missed John’s touch.  The tears were a sign of regret.  She had known that she was supposed to be with John her entire life.

They made love that night to the crackling signs of the fire.  Like two virgins.

Regina #1

She sprinted between two cars, cursing herself for being so stupid.  Impatient drivers honked their horns as she made her way past them one at a time.  The post 5 o’clock traffic wouldn’t let up for another hour or so in Los Angeles and today was no different than any other.  Regina regretted leaving but she couldn’t turn back.  No, she had made her decision to run away and to never return to him.  It was the last time she would get her heart broken by this man.  This married man who truly only loved his wife; which wasn’t her.

Stan was yelling her name as she ran.  She could hear the worry in his voice and the pain in his tone as he shouted “Regina, please don’t do this! Regina, come back!  REGINAAAAA!!!”.  The vibration of her cell phone in her back pocket continued. Knowing it was Stan, she chose to ignore it.  The tears streamed down her face and she knew that her mascara would be covering her cheeks by now.  

She ducked away in a small cafe on the corner of Melrose and Martel.  Confusion had struck and she didn’t know what to do next.  The barista stared as if he had seen a ghost.  And to her surprise, Regina was embarrassed when she recognized the young man in the green apron.  David Moore, from AP English.  Shit, she thought As if this day couldn't get any worse.  Humiliated, it would be even more awkward if she walked out the door.  Instead, she tried to grasp a sense of composure.

“Regina, right?” He asked, seemingly concerned.  “Can I get you anything?  Maybe some water perhaps?”

She responded by nodding her head.  Words had escaped her. Running in the middle of a busy Los Angeles street in the middle of summer wasn’t the best way to stay hydrated.  She downed the small cup of water and tossed the small plastic cup into the trash bin beside David.

“Uh...Is there anything else I can get you?”

She shook her head.  He kept his eyes on hers.  His eyes were green.  The most rare eye color in America.  It wasn’t until this moment that Regina noticed how beautiful his features were.  Dark and possibly of Italian or Native American descent.  There was something about his face.  It was sincere and trustworthy.  The two had never spoken before and hearing his voice for the first time was somewhat calming.  Regina liked to believe that she had a special talent for seeing the good in almost everyone.  Even if it did get her into trouble more often than it didn’t.  Such as the current situation she had put herself in with Stan.  Stan had beautiful eyes as well.  Grey with a hint of blue.  She believed grey eyes to be wise and honest.  Boy, was she wrong about that one.  She burst into tears.

“Oh, man,” David sighed, placing his right hand on the counter as if to reach for her’s.  “Look, I’m overdue for my lunch break.  My manager went out back for a smoke and should be back any minute.  I get a 30. Wanna talk about it?”

She sniffed and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her red shirt which left a long black streak of eyeliner.  Her heart was aching so badly that she would accept the offer from a tree if it would give her some compassion.   She shrugged then nodded and David smiled.  Perfect teeth.