A Little Friday Fiction…

I was talking with one of my cute sisters yesterday and said something that spawned a little bit of a story…so, here goes…!

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with Jude Law,” I heard myself say to a friend the other day–one of those friends that I can go years without speaking to, suddenly call her one day and giggle again like we did across the¬†plastic umbrella-covered¬†table at the local¬†Tastee Freeze while¬†spying on guys we liked as teenagers.

Carmen burst out laughing.¬† I think she spit a little into the phone, maybe?¬† “What?’ I heard her yell into my ear.

“Well, it just kinda happened.”¬† She laughed a little into the speaker which traveled across cell signals through several states–too many to mention and way more than I would like to admit–and filled my soul.¬† I missed her laugh, the times we shared.¬† This phone call was long overdue…like the baby that was hanging out in my belly.¬† Seriously overdue.¬† Like eight days.¬† Having something grow inside you can be wonderful and fabulous and amazing and miraculous…but sometimes–and more often than not–I find it uncomfortable, inconvenient–not to mention heavy.¬† But I didn’t have this child because I was looking for convenience.¬† I’m not delusional.¬† Okay, not yet.¬† At least I think I’m not.¬† But those are all other stories.¬† Back to Carmen.

“What just kinda happened?”¬† I don’t know what she was really thinking happened…not like I have any connection to Jude Law or anything…at least not any more connection to him than¬†anyone else in this small town in the middle of America.¬† Okay, maybe a little connection.¬† My grandfather did immigrate here from England.¬† There–I have a connection to Jude Law.¬† England is our connection.

I continued, “Well, you know Cliff was on a business trip last weekend?”


“And, the girls and I were looking for something to do.”¬† By girls I should define…they are my girls…but they are both minors, and therefore, as a seemingly responsible, non-delusional¬†mother, I wouldn’t put them in any type of compromising situation, right?¬† “So, we picked up a chick flick from the library…some Christmas-type movie.¬† What was it called again?¬† Oh, yeah.¬† The Holiday.¬† And Jude Law was kissing Cameron Diaz and all of the sudden I thought, ‘that’s the way Cliff kisses me,’ and then I’m looking at him with her and I’m practically drooling over¬†Jude’s¬†solid jaw,”–like Cliff’s–“and his longing eyes”–also like Cliff’s–“and I fell in love.”

More laughter on the other end of the line.

“To make it all worse, he was a widower–with two little girls that were cute”–like mine–“and British“–not like mine.¬† “I was like sobbing by the end…and hopelessly in love.”

“You know you’re hormonal, right?” Carmen’s voice of reason came through the magical world of cell service.¬† This time we both laughed together.

“I even looked him up on IMDb,” I found myself confessing.¬† “He wasn’t nearly this attractive in the Sherlock Holmes movies, was he?”

“I don’t know,” Carmen was almost gasping for air through her laughter.¬† “But you are funny.¬† And I know what I’m sending you for Christmas.”

“No, don’t,” I quickly responded.¬† “I don’t want Cliff to find out.”

“Find out what?”

And my glorious cell phone droped the call.¬† “Find out I’m in love with Jude Law,” I say into the empty space as I start to replay the conversation in my head.

Maybe I am a bit delusional after all.



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Writer, freelance editor, mother, artist...I wear a few other hats, as well, of course. :)

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