Mark hated writing, but he'd heard that Mr. Morrison's Creative Writing course would be a walk in the park. Just showing up would ensure at least a B. He'd heard wrong. Very wrong.
“Mark, I think you've got it in you to write well,” Mr. Morrison said with acrid coffee breath. “But this tripe you're throwing down on paper stinks and I'm not putting up with it. I'm gonna fail you if you keep it up. I suggest you find something that inspires you and write from your heart!”
The instructor's words bounced around Mark's head the next morning while in search for breakfast. Perhaps going back to school was a mistake. Was getting a degree really worth this aggravation?
The empty fridge made it clear that a bacon breakfast burrito from Los Favoritos was going to happen. The restaurant was only five minutes away and to his delightful surprise, so was his inspiration.
She was in the order line ahead of him. The neighbor girl. He'd seen her walk past his house a few times. Even in baggy sweats and hair up, she was stunning. She flashed him the kind of smile that makes a man take in a deep breath. He nodded back. When she passed him to leave with her order in hand, words began to arrange themselves in his mind...
I saw you again today, Jessica. You live only two houses away. Just two houses too many. I'm not a carpenter, but if I was, I find the choicest of cedars to surround you and the clearest of windows to let the bright sun in to touch your face.
Jogging past her house, Mark caught the echo of unpleasant voices from an open garage. A man climbed into a black Chevy half-ton and drove away leaving a woman wiping her eyes. She moved her long blonde hair away from her face and looked up. Mark waved to her. She worked up a broken smile in return and went back to placing clothes into a Uhaul box.
Dear Jessica,
If there's ever room in heart for someone like me, just say the word. I'll race to dry the tear stains from your soft cheeks and cover you with kisses. You'd be warmed by my love, always sheltered from harm, and I promise to adore you only during the day and night....
Mark bought a leather bound journal from a local book store where he stored his thoughts about Jessica, the neighbor he'd never actually spoken to.
Thoughts of Jessica pulled the ink from Mark's pen onto page after page of parchment. He wrote of her shimmering blonde locks and how they caught the sun and held his attention captive. How every brief smile made time slow down and how just a glance his way played with his heart like fingers across the strings of a guitar.
A few weeks later, Mark noticed his neighbors were having a yard sale. Jessica and her husband appeared to be the happy couple they usually were. He stopped over to see what was for sale and finally greeted the woman who'd become his muse.
“No, were not moving yet,” Jessica said. “Just clearing out some things we're not using anymore.”
Mark spoke briefly with her husband as well, then continued on to his weekend run through the neighborhood. He was glad they weren't moving away. He spent the evening sketching out the pleasant contours of her lips and thinking of how she'd like to be kissed.
Jessica, don't move away. You've made something move inside my chest that hasn't worked since I can remember... Since long before attorneys, court papers and divorce.
*********
Mark finished a difficult work week but didn't want to go back to an empty house. He yielded to the carvings of his sweet tooth and maneuvered his car over to a Cold Stone Creamery just a mile from home. A few minutes later he was parked at a corner table in the ice cream store while dark gray clouds spilled rain outside. He became lost in a sugar induced creative writing spree.
“I see we have a shared weakness.”
Mark looked up to see Jessica's smiling face. He carefully covered his journal with his arms. “I wouldn't call this a weakness, really,” he said. “It's more like an all out addiction.”
“Agreed. I justify ice cream by walking here to get it, but look at this rain! My books from the library are gonna get soaked”
“Too bad for you,” Mark said. “Unless you know someone nice enough to offer you a ride home.”
“Would you?”
“I'm sure we can work something out.”
They talked for half an hour about their lives and educational pursuits until Jessica finished her almond covered Death by Chocolate in a crispy waffle bowl.
Marked dropped her off and watched her run to her door. She held her books overhead attempting to keep dry from the drenching rain. Then she waved back from the door and mouthed the words, “Thank you” before it closed. He savored the moment while the wipers pushed water across the windshield.
Back in his quiet house, Mark started a small pot of decaf and took a shower. He pondered his plans for the weekend. Later, during a mindless string of television commercials the door bell rang. He clicked the mute button and looked at the clock. Nine-thirty-five.
The porch lights danced in her soft, brown eyes.
“Hey, what's up?” Mark asked.
Jessica unfolded her arms to reveal a familiar leather bound journal.
“I think this is yours. I accidentally picked it up with my other books.”