Southern Belles, a Novel About Love, Purpose & Second Chances (9781310340970) (37 page)

In the meantime, I stayed busy working
towards my Bachelor’s for journalism while working part-time at the
newspaper. My columns were successful and I was promoted to writing
half-page articles for the newspaper. I picked up my book, again,
and made several revisions to tell the true story of two southern
belles who would forever be best friends despite the good and the
bad. I had only three chapters to go until it was complete.

At Christmas time, CeCe surprised me and
came home for two weeks. I was so excited to wrap my arms around
her. She brought Lucy a Parisian doll with matching dress for her
to wear. She brought me a pair of beautiful hand-made silver and
sapphire earrings. It was after I saw that CeCe was in the best
place of life that I told her about Eric and me. She was quiet at
first and said very little. She listened mostly and after a few
moments, smiled warmly and said she was happy for me. She said that
she was glad I was happy and deserved a good guy in my life. I
thanked her and apologized for not telling her earlier—that I
didn’t want to upset her. I told her that we were just friends for
the longest time and held off from being anything other than just
friends but eventually grew closer as we spent more time together.
On Christmas Eve, CeCe and her parents gathered with my whole
family, Eric and I on the farm. For Christmas, Eric had gotten me
my first cell phone. I was so excited. I felt bad for only getting
him a pair of sterling-silver cufflinks shaped like a treble clef.
He said he really liked the cufflinks and was happy I liked the
cell phone. After celebrating at our home, we all went to mass and
afterwards Richie, CeCe, Eric and I went to Tru Rox for late night
munchies. Eric and I kept our usual hand-holding and flirting to a
minimal in front of CeCe, out of respect. She shared some funny
stories, at the diner, about her accidently ordering Tete de Veau
at an upscale restaurant one day. It wasn’t until after she took a
few bites that her waiter asked her how she liked the veal brains.
She thought she had ordered steak. She recalled running to the
bathroom to vomit up as much as she could. Since that day, she has
become a staunch vegetarian, she laughed as she told us the story.
She told Eric and Richie about the girl’s home that she’d been
volunteering at and stole all of our attentions with the stories of
heartbreak and healing. She was fervent about what she was doing
and planned on coming back to the states after she finished up
school to work at a girl’s home. Her dream was to, one day open a
home for girls that would provide support and care for girls who’d
been abused, raped, pregnant, and girls with eating disorders and
depression. She also wanted to offer hope and counseling for women
who’d felt an unbearable loss after having an abortion. She was
captivating when she spoke. Anyone who heard her talk about her
dream couldn’t help but be pulled into her visions of greatness.
Her zeal was magnetic and she was absolutely beautiful. I knew she
would do great things and achieve her dream. I was so proud of her
and moved by her charisma that she inspired me to finish the last
three chapters of my book.

Before CeCe left for her last semester in
France, I gave her a copy of my book to take with and read on the
plane. Although, I hated to see her leave, I knew I would see her
in five months and this time she’d be here to stay. I drove to the
airport with Lucy, CeCe and her parents to see her off. I hugged
her and told her how proud I was to be her best friend and that I
loved her. I stood hand-in-hand with Lucy and waved goodbye to CeCe
as she walked down the corridor to board the plane. From the
floor-to-ceiling windows, we watched her plane pull away and take
off. I reached for Bev’s hand as her plane soared high. I could see
tears running down from beneath her sunglasses. She hugged me
briefly and bent down to take Lucy’s hand and head towards the
parking lot. Bev and James had gotten closer to Lucy almost as if
they were filling a space that could have been a what-if. Lucy had
taken to them and it made my heart happy to see them enjoy her
presence. I followed slowly behind as I took one more look at
CeCe’s almost non-existent dot in the sky. Streams of white clouds
were all I could see before I turned back around to catch up with
them.

Around five AM one early February morning, I
awoke to a phone call from CeCe. I had been in a deep sleep
snuggling with Lucy when my cell phone rang. I grabbed it after
about the fourth ring. CeCe’s voice was squeaky and she was talking
so fast.

“Char I met the most incredible man today.
I’m so sorry it’s early and I probably woke you up but I just had
to call you. I’m so excited. He’s so sweet and wonderful and funny
and kind and Ahhh…awesome.”

“That’s great CeCe.” I moaned with my eyes
still closed half asleep.

“Okay, I won’t keep you on the phone but I
just had to tell you. I think I’m in love.”

“What?” I opened my eyes.

“I know it’s crazy but I can’t help it.”

My mind flashed back to Skylar and I
remembered feeling that way about him after only a few hours. A
pang of tightness sat on my chest. “It’s not crazy Ce. I’ve been
there before—I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, I’m happy for me too.” She giggled
elatedly.

“Is he a cute Frenchmen?” I asked, barely
waking up.

“No, he’s American but that’s okay. He could
take on a Frenchmen any day.”

“What’s his name?”

“Christian but he usually goes by
Chris.”

“That’s a nice name.” I said, looking at the
ceiling.

“It is—isn’t it? Christian and CeCe sound
good, doesn’t it?” She said in a perky voice.

I smiled at her enthusiasm at five AM in the
morning. “CeCe it sounds great.”

“Okay, I know you were sleeping so I’m
getting off the phone with you. I love you and I’m so happy!”

“I love you and I’m so happy you’re so happy
CeCe. I’ll talk to later.”

“Bye Char. Kiss Lucy for me.”

“Bye Ce, I will kiss her for you. Love you.”
I said before hanging up the phone.

Almost awake, I laid there for a few
minutes, smiling, thinking about Char’s excitement. She had never
been in love. She had obsessions and infatuations but I hadn’t
heard her mention the
love
word before. I thought about Eric
for a few moments. He was good to me and Lucy and great in every
way possible. I tried to imagine him and I married. For some
reason, either my lack of alertness or my happiness for CeCe made
it difficult to picture Eric and I betrothed to each other. My mind
drifted back to Skylar. I could barely see his face but I remember
us running around a large beach house, chasing babies and dogs in
our visions. I giggled thinking how true some of that daydreaming
turned out to be—chasing Lucy all around the farm. I looked over at
her sleeping peacefully curled into my side. She was amazing. I
loved Lucy—every part of her. I thought I loved Skylar until I
never saw him again. But for some reason as much as I tried to
replicate the feelings I had for Skylar with Eric, it wasn’t the
same. I loved spending time with Eric but was it love? It was easy
being around him because he made me feel special and made life fun.
My mother said that love does not always feel like butterflies and
that it’s a choice—that true love takes work and dedication. Was
Eric a choice? I could choose him easily but once in my life I had
butterflies. I still wanted butterflies although if Eric was work—I
had a good job. I laid in bed staring at the ceiling thinking about
Eric, Skylar, and CeCe and wondered if Eric was who I was meant to
be with. We were the greatest of friends.

In March, after the final edits to my book
were made, I sat down with my boss at the newspaper. I gave him a
copy of my book and gave him a short [hour-long] synopsis of my
book pouring my heart into every detail I shared. He flipped
through several pages and sat it down on his desk.

“So, what do you think?”

“What do you want me to do with it? We
publish small-town newspapers not novels here, Char.” He said
curtly.

“Sir, I know what we do here. But I’ve read
your books and I know you’re a writer at heart. I’m a writer at
heart. This is my story and I just need someone to help me get it
out there. You’re that person for me—you can help me get it out
there.” I pleaded with him smiling, with nervous energy at times,
exposing my mile-deep dimples.

“Why would I do that?” He looked at me from
below his thick bushy eyebrows.

“Because I know you know a good story when
you see one. I’m that story. I just need someone to believe in
me.”

“I can’t make any promises. I’ll read it
when I get some time and tell you what you need to revise.” He said
shooing me away with his hands. “Get back to work now; we’ve got
deadlines around here.”

“Oh thank you. Okay, I’m going back to work.
Thank you again.” I said as I ducked out of the office,
smiling.

I peeked around the corner a moment later. I
caught him reading my manuscript. I stayed fixed on his facial
expressions for a minute or two before he looked right up at
me.

“Oh sorry, I just wanted to say thank you
again.” I smiled and waved before I dashed out of his sight
embarrassed and ecstatic that he was reading my book.

Two weeks later, I found my manuscript in a
manila folder on my desk. I quickly opened it up and flipped
through each page cautiously. There was nothing. On the very last
page of the very last sentence stood a period placed there by red
ink. Below it read ‘not bad kid’.

“Not bad? What does that mean? Not bad but
not so good either?” I rushed at my boss—frustrated at his one red
spot and three word response to my 300-page blood, sweat and
tears.

“It means I passed it on to some friends at
a small publishing company. You’ll probably make only a few dollars
but you’ll have published a book at the ripe old age of twenty-one?
Twenty-two?” He asked.

“It’s getting published?”

“I didn’t say that. They have to read it and
see if they like your story.” He said with a flat affect.

“Oh my goodness—I could be a published
writer?” I screamed, running over to him kissing his cheek
spontaneously.

“Oh wow, Oh, calm down there young lady.
There will be none of that here.” He said pulling away.

“I’m sorry I’m just so happy. This book is a
part of me—it’s like another child.” I said ecstatically. “Thank
you for passing that along. I know you didn’t have to—so thank
you.”

“Do you work around here—I mean other than
on your book?”

“Yes, sorry. I’m going now. Thank you
again.”

I ran out of his office and did a happy
dance around the corner before I felt someone watching me.

“Hmm.” I heard him clear his throat.

“Working, I’m going now.” I smiled and
continued on to my desk before turning around to catch a glimpse of
him smiling.

That night I got home and told my parents. I
told Eric and called CeCe. I told her that it was; hopefully, only
a matter of time before my first book was published. I asked all of
them to pray that someone would see the heart I put into the book.
CeCe encouraged me. She said that my book was destined to be a
number -one best seller with the New York Times. I giggled at her
comment and daydreamed about the possibility of that. I continued
working at the newspaper while working on my journalism degree. I
welcomed CeCe’s postcards and stories. She was madly in love and
having the best time of her life. It was only a year ago that her
life had been in shambles. A lot had happened over the past year
and we were all blossoming into the lives we had dreamt about as
kids.

I waited patiently for weeks after my boss
submitted the manuscript. I hadn’t heard anything. I bothered him
about once a week but he hadn’t heard anything either. I began
worrying about the manuscript being rejected or sold or anything
that would cause it to fail. The longer it took, the more I began
to doubt myself. Eric continued to encourage me but it was hard to
comfort my heart which had birthed this story out of love and
patience. It had taken several years to finish the book. I couldn’t
wait any longer. Every time I heard the phone rang, I ran to it
hoping it was the publishing company.

On May 1, 1999 at about 4:30 PM, I received
a call from a Mrs. Kisielewski from Chance Publishing. She said she
had received my book amongst a stack of many others. She loved my
book, with one exception—it needed a new ending. All but the last
three chapters could stay. It needed to leave the reader wanting
more at the end. We talked briefly and she said that if I could
rework those chapters and get it back to her within four weeks, I
may get it published. A few days later, I received the manuscript
back with several remarks and positive feedback. I thought about
the ending. My book portrayed two strong women, who stuck by each
other through life’s challenges and joys with great characters
peppered throughout. The ending left off with the two best friends
finding happiness. My character ended up with a great guy that
should probably have ended up with the best friend. I thought about
Eric and CeCe. CeCe had found true love and it wasn’t Eric. I, on
the other hand, had found a great friend but it wasn’t the love I
wrote about when I spoke of Skylar’s character. I pondered this for
many days, trying to figure out how I could rewrite the ending to
allow the reader to feel like a part of their world.

A week after the phone call with Mrs.
Kisielewski, CeCe called. I could tell something was up. She had
been on top of the world for several months now. She could barely
contain herself.

“Char, are you sitting down?”

“No, are you okay?”

“I’m fine—super fine actually.”

“Good CeCe. What’s going on?”

“Okay, are you ready?”

“Yes CeCe, tell me already.”