I just uploaded my first four books to Smashwords, including this one. I privately promised someone I would publish Waking Sleeping Beauty for free on this site (it's $0.99 through Smashwords). It's just a novelette, about a third the size of the other books, which are Educating Goldilocks, Extra Credit, and Tired, available now at Smashwords, and soon through iBooks, Kobo, and other major online retailers.
I'll publish the final chapter of this story soon.
You can check out my blog, www.GarsMechant.com , for details on the progress of publishing these books, like when they will be available on Amazon, or the other retailers.
###
Chapter 4: Not The Intended Apology
I didn’t want to object to her having to go to the extra work, or let her know I don’t really like tea, so I sat down and became the single most uncomfortable person in the coziest living room in the town.
I had just enough time to take in the room. It matched Laura perfectly. I know her parents are well off, but I couldn’t honestly tell if they had put a hand into decorating the room or not. Nothing truly said anything other than: “This is Laura’s space.” Not the hand crocheted doilies under the lamps, nor the hand-knitted lap blankets on the arm-rests of the easy chairs, nor the books sitting around, looking like dust-free displays of literature rather than something actually read.
The only thing that belied the comfort of the room was a single high-backed wooden chair opposite the couch I was sitting on. Next to it, I saw a carefully arranged basket of yarn and various knitting needles sticking out. I had to assume it was her workspace. The only real concession to modernity in the room seemed to be a small TV in the corner, in just the right place that I suppose Laura could sit on the chair and watch it while knitting or crocheting.
I noticed the magazines upon the table were all cooking or homemaking titles, and all from this month. At least she was actually keeping them up-to-date, and from the looks of things, I’d say she really read them rather than just using them for display.
She came back with a tray with a pretty china teapot with matching sugar bowl, and creamer, and two teacups and saucers, and placed everything on the table. She poured the tea for both of us, and sat down opposite me in the high-backed chair.
I felt a bit like I had been called into the principal’s office as she looked at me over her tea and took a sip. I added sugar and cream, tried it and said it was good. It was.
“Thank you,” she said.
“You know I didn’t really come over here for tea,” I said and gently set my cup down. “I came over to apologize for what happened last Saturday. Janey said some really horrible things to you, and she and Mike weren’t nice at all.”
She looked at me, and then down into her tea.
“I really should have said something,” I said. “I should have stopped them, and I shouldn’t have let it happen. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “But don’t feel bad about it.” She didn’t elaborate.
We both sipped our tea quietly. I noticed, not for the first time, just how pretty she was. If she had any sons, his friends would definitely be over at her place all the time. And I couldn’t help but think that she would have fresh baked cookies from scratch for them every afternoon. She would be the perfect housewife for someone. Not Mike, not now. Too bad.
I couldn’t tell what she was thinking, and out of nervousness I finally said: “Your parent's home is very nice.”
She smiled for the first time, and said: “Thank you.”
“Did you do the decorating?”
“Most of it,” she admitted, brightening noticeably. “They’re both too busy to do much around here. I’m not sure I’ve ever shown you around. Would you like a tour?”
I would have said anything to change the subject from the events of that Saturday right then, so I agreed.
I could feign interest in the cabinets full of custom and limited-edition figurines around the house, but was genuinely surprised at the cost of them. She showed me one done by a French artist of the fairy tale Sleeping Beauty, displaying the princess being awakened by her prince, and told me it was worth thousands! They had a lot invested in those little China statues. Many of the cabinets themselves were antiques, upgraded with modern lighting.
The pictures down the hallways were displayed just impeccably. Everything was perfectly clean, including the bathroom, which looked much too nice to use.
The only thing out of place in the house seemed her parent’s room, which was somewhat barren. “They don’t really want the decorations,” she said by way of explanation.
She finally showed me her room, and I was immediately struck by the perfectly pink walls with white gingerbread trim, her trademark colors. She had a matching bedroom set with a four-poster bed, desk, dresser, and nightstand all in white with flowered accents. Her comforter was white and pink, matching the bedroom set and walls. Sitting on the nightstand was a Victorian lamp with hand-painted pink roses and a couple of woman’s magazines. Even the computer on her desk was white, fitting in perfectly with the rest.
“Your house is beautiful,” I said. “Did you paint the roses on your mouse and computer yourself?”
“You noticed? Yes, I did!” she said, seeming very pleased.
“You did a very good job,” I said. “It wouldn’t have even occurred to me to do that.”
“Thank you so much!” she said, blushing. “But if you’ll excuse me, I believe that tea is going right through me. I’ll be back shortly!”
She was gone in a flash. I wanted to see the flowers she had painted on her mouse a bit closer and picked it up. She did a good job; there was no cracking or peeling, which I would expect. I set it down and noticed that her computer’s screen had become active. Her background was a picture of me and Janey, sunbathing in my back yard, topless. It looked like it was taken from her window, which was next to her computer and faced my window. When I looked at her window, I saw something I had never noticed before: She had a webcam sitting on it, facing my room. It was white and matched the frame and curtains at her window, making it less obvious.
Something started to click. I looked over at the magazines on her nightstand. They were legitimate woman’s magazines, but not quite the conservative housekeeping magazines on display downstairs. These included articles telling you how to have better sex, and when I picked one up, I noticed it was a couple of years old and opened itself to a picture of a young woman, topless, looking over her shoulder at the camera. I thought about all the figurines Laura had shown me, and I realized that most of them, excluding the fairy tale ones, were artistic nudes of young women. Suddenly, things were making sense. I understood why she dated Mike, but never would commit to him.
She wasn’t strange: She was overcompensating, because she was deeply, very deeply closeted. I wondered if she knew?
I turned off her computer monitor and sat down on her bed to wait for her to return. She came back looking fresh, like she had just touched herself up, and joined me on the bed.
“You know, I…” she said, “I truly appreciate you coming over…by yourself…to apologize.”
“It’s honestly the least I could do. I really am…” I started, but she waved me off.
“But it’s not really necessary,” she finished. “I was never upset with you.”
“Really?”
“It wasn’t your fault,” she said. “What Mike did, that wasn’t you.”
“Oh, well, I’m sorry Janey wrecked your relationship with Mike,” I told her, keeping up the appearance that I didn’t know.
“I don’t think…well, I don’t think that would have worked out, anyway,” she admitted, blushing and turning away. Perhaps she did know, then.
“Really,” she continued, looking at me, “what I couldn’t stand…was the idea of him…touching you.”
“What?” I asked.
“I couldn’t stand the idea of him…forcing himself on such a pretty, innocent young woman, like you.”
Innocent? Really?
When I didn’t respond, she said: “I had to leave. I couldn’t watch it happen, and I didn’t know how to stop it. I should be apologizing to you! I’m so sorry!” She turned her face away and started sobbing, to my surprise.