Bella's Lament By Tat2missy.pdf

Bella's Lament By Tat2missy

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6173157/1/

Chapter One: Not Again

It was probably somewhere around eleven. I didn't dare chance a look at the

clock. I was uncomfortable lying in bed. I shifted my pillow further into the crook

of my neck... slowly, so as not to rustle the already snoring man beside me. As I

moved, I peered through my lashes at his sleeping form.

No change in breathing, no movement.

I smiled slightly at my accomplishment. Then I frowned, because I realized just

how little I wanted to be there.

I was wide awake. I wanted desperately to get out of bed and go work in my

studio. I hate doing nothing, even when trying to fall asleep. If it takes longer

than ten minutes, I get restless and fidgety. But I couldn't move. If I woke Eric I

was guaranteed a snide comment about how I had not had sex with him that

night, and a fifty-fifty shot at a screaming match. I would've rather lain in bed –

still – for two hours, than be screamed at for any length of time.

I turned my thoughts to working out a pattern in my head. I had a custom order

on the books that needed my attention. In my head, I did the math for the pleats

in the front, and the gather in the back. As I worked out the details, I finally

drifted off to sleep.

When I woke, the next morning, Eric was not laying next to me. The sun was just

starting to come in through the six windows in our bedroom. I had slept later

than usual. I usually liked to get up around four o'clock, for quiet time in the

studio. I did my best work before God himself got up. I assumed Eric was in the

shower. It seemed too early for him to have left for work.

With a sigh, I threw my feet over the side of the bed and grabbed an elastic

band. I wound my long, unruly hair into a messy bun and wrapped the band

around it a few times. Time for a new day, I thought, shuffling off to the kitchen.

I turned the corner and the first thing I looked at was the coffee maker. I was

delighted to see it full of freshly brewed coffee. I hastily made myself a cup, and

padded off to the front porch to have a smoke.

Ugh. It hasn't cooled at all during the night.

I could have sworn I was sitting in eighty degree soup at six in the morning. That

was one thing I missed about summer in Michigan. It always cooled at night. At

least enough to let you know you were starting a new day. I took a last long pull

on my cigarette, and threw it in the bucket.

Back in the house, I was walking down the hall towards my studio, when the

bathroom door opened and Eric stepped out in his boxer briefs. He looked up,

and with a half hearted smile said, "Good morning."

I mumbled back, "Morning," as he was leaning down for a quick peck. When he

turned to walk back to our bedroom, I wiped my lips with the back of my hand. I

quickly departed in the other direction toward my studio.

I always feel a great sense of happiness when I walk into my special place. Even

more so when I have not had as much time as I would like there.

It's a small room at the back of the house. Our washer and dryer are in there, but

I don't mind. I can keep an eye on laundry while I work. There are two large,

chest-high cabinets where I store notions and flat folds of fabric. On top, I have

more piles of fabric next to my embroidery machine. There is a large shelving

unit with doors where I store fabric on bolts. Across from that is an eight-foot

table with my sewing machine and cutting boards. Two more sewing machines

are stored under the table. In front of the washer and dryer, my ironing board is

set up, with half finished projects piled haphazardly at one end. There is just

enough room – in the middle of it all – to move freely about in my rolling chair.

My studio was a disaster area. It kind of looked like a ragged rainbow exploded in

there. I am a chaotic mess when I am creating. I cut my fabric up and the scraps

get scooted to the floor, even though I have a trash can in there. When I am

sewing, I throw my loose threads down on the floor as well. Fabric purchases

rarely get put away upon arrival. It lays in piles on every flat surface available. I

continue like that for weeks, until the mess I've created drives me insane. Then I

have a clean up day. (I put away all stray spools, fold and colorize my fabric

towers and sweep the piles of scraps from the floor.) I really do love a clean work

space, and I should probably do a better job of keeping up on it, but when I am

in a creative frenzy, I simply can't be bothered.

Sitting at my table, I slid the machine back and pulled out a paper and pencil to

sketch out the visions from last night. After I had all the measurements written

and planned, I go searching for fabric I had no particular plan for. I found a large

chunk of deep blue, heavy-weight cotton. I pressed, measured and cut the pieces

for a skirt that will fit me. I needed to make a sample first before I cut up the

expensive fabric for the special order. I always make a sample of any new

pattern.

Eric came into my studio as I was finishing the pieces. I looked up and pulled the

headphone off one ear. "Are you leaving for work?" I asked.

"Yeah. Off for another wonderful day," he answered sarcastically.

"Well, have a good day!" I said, meaning it. I hoped he would, or I would pay the

price when he came home.

He bent and kissed my lips. "Probably won't," he grumbled. I watched him walk

out and close the door before I pulled my headphone back on and went back to

work.

As the morning progressed, I was pleased with my work. I was swaying along to

my music when I put the finishing touches into the skirt. I held it up and admired

it. Very cute, I thought. It had two large pleats in the front, a zipper at the side,

and a little elastic at the back for give. I took my mp3 player off and headed for

the bathroom to try it on.

"Shit," I yelled. I was simultaneously irritated with myself, and happy that I had

not cut up the expensive material. I tugged at the top of the waist to force the

thing over my ass. While I had calculated for the curve of the hip, I had not taken

into account getting it over the swell of anyone's behind. I did manage to get it

up and zipped, but I knew I would never wear the offending thing. The only

adjustment needed was a longer zipper, but at that point, I didn't feel like

replacing it. I yanked it off, threw it back into the studio, and slammed the door.

As I was sitting at the table eating a bowl of cereal, the phone rang. I looked that

the caller ID. Work, I thought. "Hello?" I answered.

"Bella?" the woman on the other end said "Is there anyway you can come in for a

couple of hours?"

I thought for a moment. I guess there is no reason I can't go in today. "Um, I

have to jump in the shower first. Can you give me like forty-five minutes?" I

asked.

"That would be great," she said. "See you in a few."

I hurried through my routine and headed for work. I walked through the store

and groaned when I spotted Lauren.

Ugh, my least favorite person at that moment.

Lauren is a tiny blonde with a really big attitude problem. She had been working

there for all of 3 weeks and liked to think she knew everything. She wanted

everyone else to think so too.

I wished her good morning, as I passed her on my way to get my apron and clock

in. She said nothing in return.

Huh, I thought, Being a bitch today?

I try really hard not to let stupid people get on my nerves. I learned long ago that

the only person who really pays for my temper is me. It was a hard lesson, but it

stuck deep. Sometimes I still had to stop and think, Is this person worth getting

arrested for? Today I had to stop and think, Is she worth loosing my job over?

The answer is always a resounding 'No!' So I ignored her, and went about getting

to work.

Around lunch time an older lady walked up to me, looking a little nervous. "My

name is Debbie," she stated shyly. "I am supposed to come in for training today."

I extended my hand to her and said "Hi, I'm Bella. It's nice to meet you." She

shook my hand slightly. "I'll go let the manager know you're here," I said

As I was walking to the back of the store, I looked over my shoulder at her.

Lauren was already standing next to her chatting. I rolled my eyes as I walked

into the stock room to let Jim know Debbie was here.

By the time I made my way back to where I had left Debbie standing, Lauren was

giving her a tour of the store. Whatever, I thought. A customer was demanding

my attention and I was more than happy for the distraction.

I caught parts of their conversation over the next few minutes. It occurred to me

that Lauren was trying to "train" the new employee. I laughed to myself as I

walked over to where they were.

"Has Jim spoken with you yet?" I asked Debbie, already knowing the answer. I

couldn't imagine that he had told Lauren to train her.

"No," she answered.

"Uh huh. So you haven't clocked in then?" I said looking at Lauren and then back

at her.

"Not yet," she said.

"Well, you shouldn't be working then. Jim said for you to wait for him. He'll be out

in a minute," I said more to Lauren than Debbie, before I walked away again.

I busied myself trying to ignore them, wondering what was taking Jim so long.

Lauren paid me no mind and went about showing Debbie the ropes.

Jim finally made an appearance, and ushered Debbie to the back office after

assigning Lauren a task. I kept myself occupied for the next couple of hours until

Lauren clocked out and left for the day. Once she was gone, I did my best to

assure Debbie she would like it here. We chatted as we worked, and I tried to

learn a little more about her.

Eventually I couldn't hold my tongue any longer.

"You know the girl you were talking to when you first came in?" I asked her

"Yeah, she seems nice."

I didn't disagree with her. I had a point I wanted to make.

"She has only been here for 3 weeks."

"Really?" she looked at me a little sideways.

"Yeah. I'm sorry, but some of the things she told you were wrong. It's not her

place to try to tell you what to do."

"Oh. Are you a manager?" she asked.

"No, no. I hold no power in this store. I don't want you to think that. I am low on

the food chain. I just don't want you to get off to a rough start, doing what

Lauren told you to do when it's wrong. It's probably a good idea to wait for a

manager to train you." I said as we were organizing the bolts of cotton.

"How long have you worked here?" she asked.

"Um, I guess almost a year now," I said. "Look, in any work place with mostly

women, there are politics on the school girl level. I'll let you discover those for

yourself. You seem like a nice person. So I will tell you, I keep my head down and

try to stay out of it. If you can do that, the rest of this job is a cake walk."

She thanked me for the advice, and I could tell I was going to like her. I am

pretty good at getting a sense about people. She was quiet and shy. I could tell

that she was not into any kind of drama.

And that was something I tried to avoid.

I called Eric when I got home from work. He sounded like he was in a good mood,

so I flirted with him on the phone a bit.

"I missed you today," I said in a breathy tone.

"I've been thinking about you all day," He replied. I could hear his smile. I sighed

internally. It was always a gamble as to how he would be when he got home. It

sounded like it was going to be a good day. Immediately my thoughts went into

the bedroom.

"You don't have to work late tonight do you?" I asked.

"Not as far as I know," he answered.

"Good. I can't wait to have my way with you tonight."

"Nom, nom, nom," he mumbled. This was his way of letting me know he was

looking forward to going down on me. "Speaking of which, what's for dinner

tonight?" he asked.

"Fettuccine with pesto," I answered. "I don't have any good bread though."

Eric groaned, because he knew what was coming. "I suppose you want me to

stop and get some on my way home?"

"If you don't mind. I'll show you how much I appreciate it tonight when I'm..." I

let the ending linger so he could insert whatever was floating around in his

imagination.

"Yeah, alright" his tone was slightly sour.

"Thanks, baby. I'll see you in a little bit."

"I love you," he said.

"Love you too," I responded with my usual answer.

I was facing the stove, tending to a pot of noodles, when the front door opened. I

glanced at the digital clock and, noticing the time, didn't turn around to see my

boyfriend walking in. It was about the time for Eric to get home, so I just

assumed it was him. If it wasn't then any intruder better be prepared for a boiling

pot.

He walked over and set a loaf of Italian bread on the counter.

It had been less than two hours since we'd had that conversation. Now that he

was home, I was feeling a little on edge. I tried to beat it back, but I can always

tell when he is in a bad mood, even before he speaks.

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