Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
They stood there under the canopy of tree limbs that reached for the heavens. The branches sprawled above their heads, creating a roof of protection and bark tentacles of soul connection. Spurs of light sparkled through the cracks and spaces above them, carried by the tender kisses of the wind. A twilight of love and oasis of giving and receiving. She gripped him tighter when a raindrop christened her cheek. They didn’t budge though, standing tall and firm like trees… like half rotten mighty oaks who’d been gutted from life but still strived to stand for one more day. Like salt and pepper shakers whizzing through a room filled with angry, broken-hearted energy and domestic dysfunction, slamming into a wall of silence.
Like a worn, cheap notebook gifted from a father—then turned to an emotional sounding board to hoard secrets and protect feelings. They became the notebooks, the trees, the Goddess braids twisting in the wind of love. They became fast cars, pretty smiles in a dental office, hand-crafted beaded necklaces, and deprived kisses all over taut skin. Yes, they were the trees. Gutted and new. Dying and wise. Sprinkled with salt and pepper to flavor. Each tear a salty reminder of what was and what will be.
They were still standing. Long after the world witnessed their last breath. And now, they exhaled. Starting over, and born again from a simple seed of love…
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
You Have to Pay the Cost, to be the Boss
The sounds of Memphis Bleek’s, ‘Is That Your Chick,’ featuring Missy Elliott, played from Roman’s phone while news of several dead bodies found in an abandoned funeral home poured from his television. He’d planned to be out of the house a few minutes ago to speak to his supervisor, but something struck his attention that sidetracked him. Something that could not wait.
Roman took a deep breath, then opened the email sent from his father as he exhaled through his mouth. He turned the television off and allowed the music to continue to play, only pausing to take a much-needed taste of his coffee, housed in a stainless-steel tumbler to his right. He glanced at the time on his Rolex as he waited for his computer to finish booting up. It was almost time to leave for the office and start the workday, but when the email subject line signified a pressing matter, he had to sit down on his couch and take a look.
After a few more sips of coffee, he carefully read the message. Line by line. Word for word. Be the tree. Placing the laptop inside his briefcase, he got to his feet, turned off the television and headed out the door. He drove to work in silence. No coveted indie rock music to lead the way. Only the sound of his coffee sloshing about every now and again when he hit a curve too fast along the bend of a street.
Once he arrived at his destination, he said his customary hellos as he passed people he knew. Typically, he was smiling and full of energy. Today, the show and effort proved almost unbearable. He entered his office and softly closed the door behind him. He set everything down neatly on his desk. In fact, he was meticulous. His favorite pens were in their gold and white container. Not a speck of dust to be seen. His trashcan was empty, with a new liner. The blinds were partially opened, allowing in horizontal streams of light. He ran his finger along the edge of his leather office chair and sighed.
He wanted to memorize this place in his mind. Etch it in his heart forever. He inhaled the clean air and smiled. He wasn’t certain he’d ever get to stand there, this way, again. It always smells so good in my office. I’ll always remember this scent. He had two air filters in there, a citrus diffuser, along with a few large plants that were well taken care of by the cleaning staff. His phone started chiming as emails and work-related text messages began to flow through. Typically, he’d check a few right then before the Monday morning meeting, but instead, he picked up his phone and called his boss. Their weekly morning call was customary.
“Good morning, Mr. Wilde!” Eric Dearborn remarked with glee in his tone. “How was your weekend?”
“Well, sir, it was indeed a thing of beauty.” Roman smoothed out his shirt as he began to pace his office, admiring his vaulted ceilings and the expensive artwork that hung on the walls, as if seeing them for the first, and perhaps, last time.
“And what made it so beautiful? Your Christmas bonus, right?”
“I was thinking of something else, but thank you. That was beautiful, too. The Christmas bonus was generous and—”
“Generous my ass, Roman. You earned every damn penny. We’re lucky to have ya!”