Looks Like Fall Is at The Door
Looks Like Fall Is at The Door
Maurice's POV
I always took pride in my life. My dad, my mom, and I. But I never thought it would turn out like this. It was always about expensive bags mom brought from Paris or France every month. And told my friends about it the next day. Or what party will I go to next with my friends and my boyfriend? My mom’s charity gala or the tea parties at Stan’s. Nothing is the same now. It’s just hard work, and a dream in my eyes to have that life back with my mom. This is me, Maurice Blanchard, and my story.
December 2021
It’s December already, bright and sunny. It wasn’t anymore, like most of the days have been, it was the perfect weather to enjoy a day out. And at night, they turn to be chilly. Red and orange and yellow are all I see around the trees, with a tinge of green leaves in the meadows as they smile at them. I'm afraid they will soon be gone. They will turn anyway. It’s soothing for the soul and passion for stressed nerves. People love the time around the big holidays. The air even has that mistiness of flavored drinks and fragrant spices. No other months carry that specialty. It’s fresh and sweet, like a warm cinnamon roll wrapped in the spices of all the good kinds. Especially for me, when that is the only thirty minutes a day I get to spend with no work on my sleeves and constant calls on my phone, just nature and peace, and pup. Even Corey likes that time he spends with me and playing around with the twigs and leaves in the park. I bet he crushes over the neighbor's dog, Barbie. She is such a chick dog, always properly trimmed and groomed, unlike this little Mag, who hates being touched by water and wags his tail viciously every time I clean him up. He is such a darling around kids.
The morning walks in the park remind me of the laughs and gossip we had when we used to cut school to just lay on the grass or play frisbee in the meadows till late afternoon. Sometimes I would go and buy ice cream for all four of us, sometimes we would get some freshly baked bread or hot dogs from a local vendor. I could have done anything... anything that my heart desires. I’ve done pretty much all that, but not something I wanted the most in my life. I couldn’t love them.
Uh!
The sigh reminded me of the reality that I was now in, as a thin layer of fog formed on the large glass window that helped me look out at the dark road and bright lights, and soon as it disappeared the trance I was in broke too. ‘S’ I drew on another fogged window with my clean left index finger, which came out clean for a right-handed person, but it quickly vanished, leaving no trace behind of it, of him. A fading smile appeared on my red-tinged lips again and I could see it in the mirror, in my faint reflection, how dead it was. I still remember him as clearly as one day. Some things still remind me of him. When I laugh, I try to find his eyes among hundreds of unknown gazes. But he is not here. We kissed in the alley of our school. He was my first. I didn’t care if I was his, either. I thought if I could be his last, who cared about the first…
Oh! How wrong was I?
I was twirling the perfect six ounces of cold champagne in the beautiful tulip glass in my hand in front of my chest, careful… not to spill it on my red mermaid haute couture, my leg was getting numb in the Louboutin from the lack of movement. It went flat waiting for me to take a sip. Though, I can’t. Or rather, I don’t want to. Not today. I want to carve in my memory the time when mom calls me. I made a swift glance at my wrist, at my Rolex lady Datejust. There are still three hours, which seems like it left a decade to cross, and more than the promotion, I was happy that I'll be able to talk to mom again. It’s been a year; her last call was on my last birthday. And I was over the moon. How will she react when I tell her I am coming to London? I'm going in blind, but I hope she will be proud that my hard work has been paying off. It was my dream for us to be together again and she would love it. Like I love it.
“Maurice Blanchard, ladies and gentle.” The CEO, Mr. Robert Winston, announced pridefully clicking, ‘ting-ting on the flute standing in the spotlight. It was my evening. Everything was about me. I was being promoted as the head manager of the new branch of his company in London. My favorite music, my favorite cuisine, and wine, everything was there. Mr. Winston loved me like a daughter, and it came through in his behavior. From the day I joined his company at eighteen till today, he was the only one to see me for my intelligence and not my background.
I went back into the crowd and the cheers only got louder. The cheers rise into the air as the greatest of celebratory firework explosions. Everyone seems genuinely happy. It’s too real. My life is about to change. We raised our glasses as the music began.
Like my heartbeat strung with the notes of that melodious, sweet vibration, it took me back in time. Like magic. On the night of prom. It’s the same music, I realized. I danced all night that day, my head on his shoulder. Not a care in the world. No moment in my life has made me happier. I was so naïve and innocent. He said he liked me in red, so I wore red. That dress wasn’t expensive, not even close to the dress I am wearing now. Mom sews the dress for me. It was a lace red gown, but mom stitched pink on the back when she ran out of red scrapes, but it was still perfect. I had to sell it for fifty dollars to pay medical bills. I loved nothing more than that and, like so many things I've loved, I lost that dress too. It smelled like him for months. Even when we were not together.
