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Cecilia, Part 5

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Cecilia, Part 5

Cecilia enjoyed coaching woman’s basketball almost as much as she enjoyed teaching.  She kept her lesbianism to herself for obvious professional reasons.  Ms. Evans possessed a sincere desire for the furthering of the study of the English language.  She also was a devout thinker in the world of Math.  She kept up with the study of Math and English as a hobby.  She was also able to contribute to the world of art history and its expansion.

Things were going well.  Cecilia and Muria kept the physical side of their relationship completely secret.  They went to the nicest restaurants, as before, and the two lovers only pleased each other sexually on rare occasion.  Cecilia could not complain and Muria did not mind; it worked out.  Muria got along with her husband better, even though they got along fine, anyway.

Cecilia still maintained her contributions to the city.   As a person dedicated to many ideals, one being education, Cecilia made sure to take at least one day off a month to check on her small private school.  One of the school secretaries was not the brightest woman.  Her name was Jena, and everyone loved her.  “There is something I want you to see,” said Jena, one day.  Cecilia was  not really planning on speaking with her, needed to return to the 2A school by noon.  Cecilia had plenty of time.

“What can I do for you?” asked Cecilia.  “We have a lost and found box; it has various things in it that the students or other people leave or find.  I found something in it with your full name on it – a camera,”  said Jena.  “What kind of camera?” asked Cecilia – she possessed a high-end Canon for all of her photography and blogging needs.  As someone who could afford such a toy, she was sure to have the best and use it properly.  “I think it is a metallic, burgundy Nikkon, and it looks like a cheap one,” said Jena.  “I will take a look at it,” said Cecilia, “Thank you, Jena.”

Cecilia brought the camera with her to school and then home.  She chopped up some ingredients from her fridge and tossed them into a big salad.  Cecilia poured salad dressing onto the “thing” and decided to check out the foreign object, or Nikkon.  It had a memory chip in it; she removed it and put it into her computer.  Without too much difficulty, Cecilia was able to pull up four pictures.  Each photograph was of someone burning something late in the night; it was Muria.  The photos were clear enough to tell where she was, as she was in the vicinity of the back of her property.

Cecilia did not really know what to think of it.  She thought about it though.  Thinking – what could it do for her?  The photos were taken the night of Christian’s disappearance.  The next morning was a Saturday; Cecilia woke up and called Muria.  Muria did not mind sharing an early morning coffee with Cecilia; Cecilia enjoyed bringing her favorite coffees to Muria’s house.  This morning it would be the Tropical Maui blend Cecilia had just recently purchased.  It was sure to be a gourmet espresso that would them both well-wired.

They shared coffee and Cecilia showed Muria the pictures.  The coffee was great.  The photos almost freaked Muria out, however she thought about it and realized that she probably did not have too much to consider in the world of worry.  She figured someone had definitely taken pictures of her; that the individual was sure to get the photos to Cecilia, somehow; and that there would not be too much to worry about.

 Someone may have known of the foul play, may have even seen Muria’s actions.  Whoever it was gave up the whole camera – not just copies of their photos.  The person was a probable wealthy neighbor, unwilling to say too much about one thing or another.  Cecilia decided that she was not in too much direct danger, though she was still a little unsettled.

“What were you burning that night?” asked Cecilia.  Muria was far too cunning to be naive or anything other than logically diabolical.  “I remember that night,” said Muria, “I was cleaning out a bunch of old stuff to throw out, and I came upon a painting from my husband’s college art class.  It was of a nude woman; he kept it all these years, though I thought he had thrown it away.  I skipped the book club to burn the old painting.  I did not really know what I was doing; I burned it on the ground with charcoal lighter fluid.”

“Maybe he took the pictures?” asked Cecilia.  “I doubt it,” said Muria, “I think he fell asleep watching television that night; he did not get off the couch until the next morning.”  Cecilia left the small cartridge with the photos on it with Muria and went home.  The two both found it to be odd, however nobody contacted them ever again.  Someone knew Muria started a sizable fire, that was all.

♦

α   β   γ  δ

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A Letter to Mr. Wise

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Dear Grand-Pa Wise,

How are you?  I am well.  I wanted to write you a letter; I am grounded.  The kids at school were making fun of my hair, so I put paste on Sally McFarkle’s long brown hair.  Her friend laughed, so I got in trouble.  I apologized to Sally, still got sent to the office.  Hence, no chess today.  I am supposed to be cleaning my room, right now.  I cleaned it a while ago.

I wanted to write you, however I did not know what to say.  You always answer my questions; for that I am grateful.  I am working on my book, “The Golden Dragon”.  I write about three pages a day before I go to bed.  I would much rather read; I read to write better.  I am describing an adventure of a man sent to slay a terrible man-eating dragon that does not even accept payment for nonviolence.

At any rate, what did I come up with for inspiration?  Was it a photo?  No, it was not a photo… it was page 29 of my spelling dictionary from the Oxford press.  I was going to write you a poem: “About a Beach,”  The wind blew, the woman knew, and the man saw no dead fishes.  “Beach” was the first word I saw.

Another word was more inspirational, however.  Have you ever heard of the word, “Bedeck?”  I had not.  What do you think it means?  Here is a hint; I will use it in a sentence.  The mother of the young prodigy decided to bedeck her Christmas tree.  Here is another one.  The wife from India was bedecked with gold and sapphires.  Here is one last sentence; I think you may have already guessed the meaning of bedeck.  How was the 4th place Olympic Finnish swimmer bedecked?  His team gave him a green honorable mention ribbon.

You may have guessed it, bedeck  means to adorn.  Well, I must conclude this letter.  I am going to do some reading.  I missed seeing you today.  I look forward to our next lesson in chess.  I love you grand-pa; please, tell grand-ma I said, “Hello.”

Love always,

Ned

♦

Cecilia’s Gain, Part 4, Day 13

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Cecilia’s Gain, Part 4

Cecilia Evans sure missed her husband, Christian.  She was happy, though.  For one, she was rather wealthy.  She kept to herself, lived modestly.  Her donations to organizations in town did not necessarily make her a known aristocrat; she still thought about teaching.  Ms. Evans was set, mind you; she lived off her investments.  Her residual income paid her bills.  Cecilia treated herself and Muria to a nice meal in an upscale restaurant once every 5 weeks.  They always chased after a new dish or flavor.  Cecilia paid off Muria’s credit cards.

Cecilia’s private school was for children ages 6 or 7 through 11 or 12.  The school employed about 24 workers, the students behaved and learned well.  Her art museum idea was expensive, however other entities helped by investing.  The vast structure was made of polished white marble with cloudy grey lines waving about.  Exhibits included featured artists from all over the world – some artists were still alive and made an appearance.  Others were not there, however lectures on their art and their biographical history were given.

Cecilia eventually began to enjoy life.  She kept to her house immaculate and stayed busy.  “I think I am going to try again with the teaching,” she said to Muria one evening, over dinner.  They split a large bowl of pasta drizzled with a special oil, rare spices, and steamed chicken.  “Where are you going to apply?  Why do you want to do it?  Are you not happy that you are not forced to teach?” asked Muria.  “I am going to speak with the board of a 2-A, ‘smaller’, school on the outskirts of town.  They are ‘The Bandits’ and have a fighting squirrel for their mascot.  I have a decent chance of getting the job; I think I would do best teaching in a smaller school.  I want to do it because I love to teach; I will be happy either way,” said Cecilia.

Cecilia did as she spoke of early Monday morning.  She dressed up nicely and brought  a newly revised resume to the director of the school district, Mr. Huffenpower.  He said they would be hiring three teachers this next year; one would need to be okay with coaching.  Cecilia was glad to meet the nice man.  He was well-educated, had a master’s degree in education.  According to Mr. Huffenpower, his forte was sociological research.

A week or two went by and Cecilia was called in for an interview.  It went well; she would teach Math and English to freshmen.  She would also take on the responsibility of an assistant women’s basketball coach.  She was so excited she called up Muria as soon as she got home.

“I got the job!” said Cecilia, “I am going to teach in this town!”  “I am sorry, I cannot talk right now,” said Muria, “Come over, though.”  Not even considering the length of the walk, Cecilia went over to Muria’s.  Muria answered the door saying, “Come on in,” motioned for Cecilia to come on inside.  The two sat on one of Muria’s extravagant couches.  Cecilia told her all about the interview.  She explained how she was going to coach young girls on the basketball court.

“I am really happy for you.”

Muria instinctively placed her hand on Cecilia’s thigh.

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Her Loss, Part One of Three

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Cecilia’s Loss, Part One of Three

One time there was a beautiful housewife named Cecilia Evans.  She was a school teacher, married a wealthy stock broker named Christian Evans.  He thought it was best that they buy a house together; they did.  Cecilia loved to teach; she was a 4th grade teacher who endured complicated choices.

Cecilia’s teaching was her dream job; she worked hard in college to complete her degree.  Once done with college, she was grateful to receive an offer to teach.  This was her big loss – she married Christian.  After having loved her job and doing well at it for four years in a row, she met him.  Cecilia was making about 26-k a year and living with herself, her place, and an old Zenith.

Cecilia’s father was a member of a golfing resort group of retired professionals.  She went there with him to eat lunch on Sundays once a month or so; that is where she met Christian.  He also was eating with his older, yet frail, father.  Christian himself was a larger man, 6′ 3”, and had big hands.  Not a body builder, Christian was still large in the gut.

Why would Cecilia leave teaching young minds the beauty of creative development and learning?  Christian’s stock broker job brought in over 250,000-k a year, and he promised her in front of her dad that they could get a big house together.  He would be moving in a few months to a larger city for his job; she could look for a new job once there and tend to the new house.

Cecilia had her thoughts on not going through with this major decision; she went with Christian, nevertheless.  Did she miss teaching?  Cecilia did.  Cecilia missed her students, their parents, surviving on her own – she missed it all.  She liked the new house at first.  It was huge, and the neighbors seemed nice enough when they were around.  The Evans’ mansion contained eight similar guest rooms.  Four of these rooms were on the second floor, and four were beneath them.  There was another bedroom for guests that was larger than the eight similar rooms.  The large house contained a front foyer, a ballroom, many bathrooms and closets, two kitchens, and a den.  There was also the main bedroom for Christian and Cecilia.  They both enjoyed the sex during their first year of marriage; it was no surprise.

Cecilia was not having good success with finding a job as a teacher.  It was a big city; her credentials could not compete.  She kept procrastinating the pursuit of a new career due to a two-fold situation.  Her first problem was simply the big house – she spent all of her time keeping it clean and remodeling.  It was a beautiful piece of artwork – she constantly received high praise for her interior photo-posts from her blog followers.  She posted new digital pictures of her remodeling all of the time.  Christian was impressed with her work from time to time, but usually only tentatively.  Friends and family from all over came to visit, this too took up time and somehow kept Cecilia from returning to teaching.  She cooked in a painstaking manner, became known among many.

Her second problem was the heavy hitter – Christian.  He was such a nice man for so long.  For the first fourteen months of their marriage, he only found more and more success.  He was a genius in regards to market research; he and his men used their power to gain more and more clout.  They became a dominant force in the market place.  “Why do you still long to teach again?” asked Christian all of the time, “Do I not bring home enough ‘bacon’?”  “I just thought I liked it,” said Cecilia.  She eventually found a part-time summer volunteer position teaching art to children one hour a morning, four mornings a week, for the “Y”, a community gym in their city.  This was a suggestion by one of her housewife neighbors, and it did bring some small amount of joy to Cecilia’s life.

Every night when Christian came home he exclaimed things like, “What is for dinner?  Did you remember to get the things I asked you for?” and so on.  He took up drinking alcohol before bedtime; Christian also drank during some business transactions.  He was becoming less considerate of Cecilia; she was trying harder and harder to please her man.  She only knew of their downward spiral subconsciously.  Over the next two years Christian became more verbally confident; Cecilia saw time fly by with little to go along with it other than the physical pains of an aging housewife.  Christian’s dominance was gaining, and so was his nightly consumption of aged whiskey.  What would happen to their relationship if she could not work these things out?  She tried and tried to be a nicer woman.  What would happen to her?  What would happen to Christian?

♦

Her Loss, Part Two of Three

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Her Loss, Part Two of Three

One thing that happened to Christian was financial – he began making more money.  He let Cecilia buy a new car of her choice.  She went and got a new fully loaded Lexus.  The car was an automatic v-8 with leather interior, a hybrid.  Her car was nice; her husband was becoming questionable.  Cecilia’s ideas on teaching had pretty much faded away.  “I really wanted to continue to teach,” she said to Christian, one night.  She did not really understand the difference in speaking with a human that had consumed alcohol as opposed to one who had not.

Christian had been drinking his preferred brand of aged whiskey, again – the “smoothest whiskey”, according to the bottle.  Even he did not really consider the consequences of any amount of intoxication.  “There is no need for you to teach,” said Christian coldly, “You cannot even keep a cleanly house.”  She thought he was playing; she had kept their entire house clean for months and months.  Cecilia did not really know what to say, that night.  She hated to be surprised with Christian’s discouraging words.

“Maybe I can teach online, somehow,” thought Cecilia.  The closest she came to that was answering support questions for new bloggers everywhere.  Though it was fun and actually helped a few people learn to write better; her loss was still that she was no longer a school teacher.  Was Christian making all of the money?  Sure he was; Cecilia could go out and buy anything.  He never minded; she paid the bills well and managed some of his private accounts.

Cecilia joined a book club.  It met weekly; it was named “The Wormers”.  To join, participants were to submit a book review and pay a 10$ annual fee.  The club sold t-shirts for 5$ that said “The Wormers”.  Cecilia was a proud “Wormer”; she reviewed James Patterson’s new novel, “Unlucky 13”.  Cecilia joined the book club, because her neighbor said it was an interesting and intelligible small gathering of young women who loved to discuss the mastery of new best-sellers.  Cecilia’s neighbor’s name was Muria Thorngood.  Muria’s husband was a wealthy defense lawyer; she had taken nine differing forms of martial arts before becoming an instructor of her own mixed style in her own dojo, downtown.

Cecilia continued to keep the house clean; she read books; and she remodeled.  Cecilia became an expert with interior design; Christian’s monthly liquor bill was almost as much as the wallpaper Cecilia replaced from time to time.  “I want you to fill these papers out,” said Christian, one night.  It was a life insurance policy for 5 million.  Christian traveled over twelve times a year by plane for business reasons; the policy was an idea presented by his company.  Cecilia filled it out; Christian drank himself to slumber.  His drinking had become a daily habit; he did not drink before he went to his office.  The stocks his company invested in continued to make more and more money.

Christian became more and more verbally abusive to Cecilia.  He, without noticing, became demanding.  She learned to cook various gourmet dishes from high-class recipes off the web.  “These dinners are not worth the money you spend cooking them,” he would say.  She was usually a little proud, anyway; they looked and tasted splendid to her.  Her blog followers were usually at a loss of words to view her cooking photos.

One night, the inevitable occurred.  Christian came home from work; it was a Friday.  On the way home he stocked up well on aged whiskey.  He finished off 1/2 of a 5th by the time he made it to their mansion and found Cecilia reading.  “You and your damn books!” he said, “Cannot you do anything with your life?”  “Why do you not start a private school so I can teach?” she asked in fright.  He was drunk and mad; he really needed to find a good reason to increase his anger.  “All the schools in this city and you cannot even do it at one of those?  You think I can just say ‘wham!’ and a new school appear so you can sit on your rump for a year making what I do in a week?”

“I do not see what is so crazy about that,” said Cecilia, feeling justified, “All you do is sit around or talk with investors and come home and drink – what do you care, anyway?”  This really upset Christian; his not really having something significant to be proud of other than financial success hit home.  It upset him even more to be accused of over drinking; the truth hurt.  He fore-handed her, as she was standing there, trying to be accurate with her statements.

Cecilia fell to the ground in pain.  She cried; she did not think he would do such a thing.  What a terrible surprise.  Christian went off to bed with a 2-liter glass bottle of aged whiskey thinking, “That showed her.”  He passed out drunk within the hour, and Cecilia slept in the large guest room, half of her head discolored and one of her eyes blackened.  What was she to do?

♦

Her Loss, Part Three of Three

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Her Loss, Part Three of Three

The Evans had certainly had a rough Friday night.  Christian woke up early, did not know that his blow to Cecilia had bruised her.  He left at sunrise to go play a game of golf and drink whiskey with fellow golfers.  As exciting as that was, Cecilia woke up as he was on his noisy mission to get to the golf course.  Her head was in pain.  She took some aspirin and longed to go back in time.  “I could have just remained a teacher,” she thought sadly, looking over her large and multi-colored bruise via the 3,000$ mirror in her guest bathroom.  “What am I to do?” asked Cecilia.  She thought about it a while, got dressed, and walked the four-acre walk it took to get to her neighbor’s house.  She would see a fellow Wormer; she was going to pay Muria a visit.

Cecilia wore a hat with a laced veil to keep her big bruise from view.  She walked to her neighbor’s and knocked on the front door like an Avon salesman.  Cecilia had only been over to see Muria a few times, before, and she was unable to figure out other options.  Her bruised eye was not even functioning perfectly – Cecilia had a small twitch in her harmed eye.  Muria answered the front door in her Saturday morning dance robe; she had been doing aerobics-dancing with a video for the last hour or so.  “Cecilia!” exclaimed Muria; she was happy to see one of her most favorite people.

“What a nice surprise,” said Muria, “What brings you here?”  Cecilia went with a “non-euphemistic” philosophy and raised the silk from her hat.  “That angry drunk got me good,” said Cecilia, “What more does he want from me?”  Cecilia stood in tears; she did not even know she was crying.  Muria was all she had, really.  “Oh honey, come inside,” said Muria.  Muria consoled Cecilia holding her and rubbing her back and listening to all of the terrible things that had been happening.  The two cried and talked for a while, shared a tea, and Cecilia went back home.  They had made plans to see each other again later in the week.

Christian went on about his normal life, too busy to even care about his lonely housewife’s bruised head.  Ten days went by, and Cecilia’s bruise healed.  One night, she went to her book club.  “Anything happens to Christian, and Cecilia gets paid millions,” thought Muria.  Muria was not even too worried about many things; she thought Christian was not good enough for Cecilia.  He would never give up his bottle according to Muria’s opinion, and she was growing older, anyway.  Muria was an intelligent and deadly woman; she skipped the book club that week, as she sometimes did.  Muria got out an expensive bottle of bourbon, put it in her purse, got dressed, and walked to the Evans’ to ring the front door bell.

“Who is there?” asked Christian, he was intoxicated and had been watching CNN.  He opened the door to see Muria in sexy lingerie and a loosened night robe.  He let her in.  She gave him the bottle; he put that aside.  Muria lured Christian into the kitchen; they did not speak too much.  She caressed him and raised her right leg up to the counter; he came closer to her warmth.  Muria reached behind him and grasped a serrated steal bread knife, pulled him closer, and slit his main aorta with a one-inch deep wound.  Christian tried to grab and strangle her before he bled to death.  Muria was agile enough from martial arts instruction.  She was able to get his arms behind his back; he bled to death.

Muria cleaned the kitchen; she only had half of an hour and Cecilia would be back from the book club.  Muria put Christian’s body in a tall, thick outdoors liner bag.  She cleaned the kitchen really well, drank some of the bourbon, and made sure their was absolutely no sign of foul play.  Muria got the body into the Evans’ backyard and double-checked all that she could consider before leaving the mansion.  Everything was the way it would have been.  Muria dragged the body to a dark part of the yard – it neighbored her own yard.  She kept dragging him until she got him into a secure location, and Cecilia returned home from the book club shortly thereafter.

Muria cremated Christian’s body late in the night.  Cecilia called the police; no body was found.  Christian was pronounced dead, though there was no body to prove it.  Muria did not get caught.  Cecilia received a life insurance policy check for 5 million within good time.  Cecilia opened an art museum downtown, and she opened a private school for children the next fall.  Cecilia missed Christian from time to time; her counselors said that it was not a healthy notion to dwell on.  Muria, her husband, and Cecilia lived happily ever after.

♦