Please note, all characters and events depicted are fictitious. All rights reserved.
This is a longer story, with some build up. Comments welcomed, indeed encouraged. I'd like to think my writing is improving -- I hope you agree. The usual disclaimers about copyright, age appropriateness and state laws apply.
*
Samantha Jones plopped herself down on the couch, exhausted; it had been quite a day. She had gotten the groceries bought, the Christmas presents wrapped, the cards written and mailed, and collected her daughter from school. Now it was time for her to relax. She groaned. This was the time of day she dreaded the most, because, once her daughter had gone to bed, she would be alone again.
Samantha lived alone with her daughter, Caroline, now seven, as they had done for four years. She valued her independence, her freedom and loved being a mommy, even though it was desperately hard sometimes. Still, those long evenings alone stretched out in front of her like a prison sentence. It was as though she was being punished, but for what, she could not be sure.
She dragged herself out of the couch, hung her purse on her bedroom doorknob and kicked off her pumps. "Well, I guess we'd best eat, at least", she muttered to herself. But first, after checking that Caroline was safely and happily occupied, she needed to get out of her dress, get showered and into something altogether more comfortable for the evening ahead of her.
Stepping out of the shower and drying herself, she pondered her situation and how to improve it.. She was a happy person for the most part; just lonely. And yet, as she had told herself and her friends numerous times, she felt that she wasn't ready to share her home, or her life, with anyone else. In addition, she especially she did not want to expose Caroline to a succession of men, only for them to disappear again. But mostly, she did not want to introduce a new partner into her daughter's life if he turned out to be abusive or manipulating like the last one. Truth be told, on top of all this, she was afraid to open herself up again, to expose her heart and to risk it being broken again.
At 46, she had been married and divorced twice. Her son James was all grown up and had long since moved out; a few years after which, she had moved away from her family and her hometown to be with her second husband; a long, long way from home as it happens -- overseas, in the American Mid-West. She had borne him their daughter, whom she adored with every fiber of her body. To all intents and purposes, she was now a single mom. Caroline's father did not pay child support as he should have, and paid little to no attention to poor Caroline.
So now, except for Caroline, her family lived many, many miles away, and that second divorce had been brutal. As it turned out, he had not been quite the charming gentleman that he had seemed when they had first met. Oh, everything had been fine to start out with; he was quite the catch, or so he had seemed. However, as the first couple of happy years had faded into memory, he had become completely self-absorbed and sullen; he had treated her as an irrelevance bordering on contempt. As her personal happiness had dissolved in front of her eyes like the scarcely remembered fragments of a dream upon waking, her finances had plunged into a disastrous melee, caused, for the most part, by her husband's spendthrift ways. She barely had time to catch her breath, before she found herself working two full time jobs to support them while her husband returned to full time education and looked after Caroline. Suffering from exhaustion, she found herself staring at bankruptcy square in the face. Add to that his sexual advances, if they could be called that; more like forced celibacy on her part, interspersed with being, essentially, her husband periodically raping her. Her reluctance to be used in this way only fueled his contemptuous treatment of her.
Release had finally come when she had divorced him, but, in a cruel twist which she should have foreseen, given all that had preceded, he had successfully convinced and connived her into paying him an astronomical settlement, which had crippled her financially more than ever. Now, four years later, working just the one job, having quit the second one in order to look after Caroline, she was utterly exhausted, bankrupt, undergoing therapy, financially crippled, and lonely.
The only bright spot in all of this had been her dalliance, while still married to him, with Sophie, a co-worker. Desperately lonely, even more so than now, being simultaneously lonely and married, she and Sophie became fast friends at work. While Samantha had always harbored bi-sexual tendencies, she had never before had acted on it beyond mere schoolgirl experimentation, and had never had sexual relations with another woman, far less a lesbian affair. But there it was -- for six glorious months, while she was being alternately ignored and abused at home, she and Sophie would lunch together, enjoying each other's company and friendship. Lunches had turned into rare evenings spent together, at bars, and, on days off and when the weather was pleasant, at the park; eventually, in each other's arms and in Sophie's bed. That affair had come to an abrupt and tearful end when Sophie was relocated. Despite protestations as they said their goodbyes that they would remain in touch, that had just not happened. For several weeks, Samantha's heart was breaking. Yet, it had set her soul alight to the possibility that she could love, and be loved, again.
Since the divorce, Samantha had dated a little, but never very seriously and never for long, the longest being for three months with Julian, who adored her, but whose adoration she did not return, so, finally seeing that she had to do the right thing, she broke it off with him. His reaction had stunned her, when he broke down in floods of tears. She felt a little ashamed and rather embarrassed to have caused a grown man to cry so openly. However, no matter how painful or uncomfortable, she knew it was the right thing. That was three years ago. Since when, she had been single and untouched.
Samantha's thoughts were broken by a knock at the door.
"'S open," she called, correctly imagining the source of the knock to be Jamie, her neighbor. Still dressed in just her bra and panties, she slipped into her jeans and walked out into the living room pulling a loose fitting blouse around her as she did so.
"Hey girl, what's up?"
"Hey yourself; have you eaten yet?" came Jamie's response.
"Nope, just got out of the shower. Why, what'ya thinking?"
"John and I were just ordering pizza for us and the girls, and wondered if you'd like to join us"
"Oh, that would be wonderful! Thank you!"
"Don't be daft -- we saw you pull in, and figured you probably weren't doing much this evening."
"How very perceptive of you," chuckled Samantha.
"So, how'd you get on? Did you get everything?"
"Yeah, you know, I'm actually feeling kinda proud of myself."
"Great! Well, come on, girl; grab your things and your cherub. The girls are anxious to see her, and you can tell me what all you found over pizza."
And so, for tonight, at least, Samantha's evening was saved. Samantha and Jamie spent the evening talking incessantly, as was their habit, with the girls - Caroline, and Jamie's two, Rachel, 12, and Jemima, 6 - goofing off all the while. John, Jamie's doting husband, joined in the rolling conversation periodically. Not for the first time, as she enjoyed the family's company, Samantha thought how safe and secure she felt in their presence, and, despite her oft-stated fear of over-staying her welcome, their reassurances that she was always welcome at their home had finally had the intended effect. They were truly a wonderful couple, a wonderful family whom she had come to love dearly. She almost felt a part of the family. Almost.
In her heart, she knew that, while she claimed not to be ready for a relationship, what she really wanted more than anything was some of what Jamie and John had -- happiness, total comfort with each other, security, and, most of all, to love and to be loved.
Also not for the first time, she pondered what life would have been like if either of her husbands had been cut from the same cloth as John. Of course, had it not been for her second, awful marriage, she would not now have Caroline, so she was generally philosophical about her lot and how, despite the hurt and abuse, Caroline and James made it all worth it.
****
The next day being a Saturday, the Saturday before Christmas, in fact, Caroline didn't have school, and had arranged to spend the day at the home of Jenny, one her school friends. Samantha had called the girl's mother to ensure that this was all fine. Rebecca, Jenny's mom, had reassured her that it was fine, that she had encouraged Jenny to invite Caroline or one or two of her other friends over.
"In fact, when you bring Caroline over, why not stay yourself for a while? If you're not busy, that is. I'd welcome the company if you're not busy Christmas shopping," Rebecca had added.
So it was set; at about eleven, Samantha and Caroline were to set out for Rebecca and Jenny's home on the other side of town, a fifteen-minute journey. Having ensured that Caroline was getting ready, that they had both eaten, Samantha showered and thought about what to wear. While it was not a formal event, just hanging out with the mother of one of her daughter's friends; still, she figured she should at least look somewhat presentable.
So, having showered, shaved, dried off and toweled her curly hair, she selected a cute denim skirt, one of her favorites, and a powder blue, semi-formal button down blouse. She always tried to keep her nails well manicured, and her lilac nail polish complemented the blouse perfectly. Thanking her lucky stars that she had good skin and features so that she really did not need to worry about makeup, she simply wiped a subtle, barely there lipstick on and checked her mascara. Slipping on her calf length boots and her jacket, they were ready.
Caroline apparently noticed at least, as she gave her mom a hug before they stepped out of the door.