She tore the calendar off the wall and tossed it in the garbage. Another year trashed.

Hey there, Sunshine, whats the chances of another cup? Billy tilted his head in that way that used to break her heart twenty years ago before his eyes disappeared behind the bags and his face became a roadmap of wrinkles.

She didnt look much better, she knew. She turned away from him and pulled the pot out of its holder. Id have to make it up fresh. She poured out the remaining coffee down the drain and watched the brown liquid swirl away. Its not worth it. Youre late as it is.

"Hey, this is a new year. Fresh start you know.

She heard him get out of his chair. She felt his hand on her shoulder. She shook him off and went to the dishwasher. New year. Old lives. Nothings changed but the date.

Theres no talking to you when youre in this kind of mood. Im only working half shift today. Ill be back in time to take you to lunch. You want to go to lunch with me? First lunch of the new year.

She shoved the coffee pot in the dishwasher. She turned and leaned against the machine. She remembered how blue his eyes used to be. They had faded with timebleached of their color just like his hair and skin. Yeah, lunch will be fine. Ill try to be in a better mood by then.

He nodded. Give us a chance this year, Sunshine. We can make it through this.

I dont feel like talking, Billy. Not right now. Later.

He stepped forward to give her a kiss. She turned her face and felt his lips graze her cheek. He heisitated as if to say another word but changed his mind. He picked up his hat and settled it on his head. You couldnt tell he was balding when he was wearing his hat.

The screen door rattled closed behind him. She went into the bathroom and turned the light on as she faced herself in the mirror. It was all written on her facethe years with Billy, the longing for the child that never lived, the moves, the job changes, the love affairs that almost lasted, the aching loneliness.

She was pretty once. She knew she had been. The men stopped and turned when she passed. Now she was invisible to them. All she had left was Billy. And she hated him for that.

She turned the shower on and let the steam fill the bathroom before she bathed. She scrubbed and scrubbed at herself, as if she could scrape the age off her body and find the young woman she had been.

But, in the end, it was no good. The hot water ran out and she was just the same. A new year used to mean a new start and promises. Now it just meant more of the same. Just older, thats all.

The phone rang. She pulled on a robe, hastily wrapped a towel around her head, and went to pick it up, but the answering machine beat her to it.

Hey, Sunshine, I just wanted to tell you. You know, when I look at you, I cant believe how beautiful you still are. I dont think I tell you that enough. That I cant believe you just dont seem to get any older. Youre still as fresh and pretty as that first day I met you, when you had stuck those silly daisies in your hair. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you how much well, you know. Dress up pretty for me, will you? Ill take you some place special for lunch. I know we cant afford it. I dont care. I want to show the world how lucky I am. Okay? Okay, Sunshine? Come on, baby, pick up the phone. Please.

He hung on until the answering machined clicked off. She shook her hair free of the towel. She went to the closet and pulled out a suitcase. She started emptying her drawers into the bag and then started crying. Shit. Where would she go? What would she do?

She pulled some tissues out of the box on the vanity and held her hands against her face as her body shook. Shit, shit.

Then even the tears died. Slowly, reluctantly, she took the clothes back out of the bag and put them away. Shit, shit, shit. She put the bag back in the closet and took out a a flowered dress, which she held it against her body. Her reflection was blurred in the dirty mirror hung on the door. He always liked that dress. Well, what would one more lunch hurt? For the new year.

Very evocative vignette, dialyn. Did you enter this into the New Year's Contest? If not, you should have. It's well written and quite poignant. Assuming you would like some critique, I offer the following. twenty years ago before twenty years ago, before roadmap should be road map. She shoved the coffee pot in the dishwasher. She shoved the coffee pot into the dishwasher. timebleached Not sure but maybe a space after the ellipses? heisitated should be hesitated. another word but changed his mind another word, but changed his mind You couldnt tell he was balding when he was wearing his hat. I resemble that remark! turned the light on as she faced herself turned the light on, as she faced herself facethe Again, a space after the ellipses? the longing for the child that never lived Very evocative. You can feel the emotions, not just here, but throughout the story. As in here: All she had left was Billy. And she hated him for that. She pulled some tissues out of the box on the vanity At this point I had the feeling she was in her bedroom. Perhaps the box should be on the dresser? a a flowered dress Repeated word, a. which she held it against her body. which she held against her body. - Don't need the it. Nicely done, with many heart tugging turns of phrase. jon

Thanks, Jon. No, I didn't entered the contest. I just wrote the story tonight. I don't know why I wrote it. But thank you for proofing it for me. I get sloppy in the details. I really appreciate your feedback.

P.S. I had a vanity in my bedroom when I was a girl. I guess I didn't think of it as being in a bathroom. Funny how details will reflect a regional difference. ;)

Well, it's a short, descriptive, little slice of a life. I suppose it rings true for a lot of women. I wonder how many men have wives like this and don't know it. I always enjoy reading your stuff, Dianne. Now that I think about it, it's been a while since you've posted.

"I had a vanity in my bedroom when I was a girl. I guess I didn't think of it as being in a bathroom. Funny how details will reflect a regional difference." Yep. I never even thought of it as a piece of bedroom furniture. I would certainly not change it then. jon

I was thinking about how hard it is to accept life as it is, rather than how you fantasize it might be. How there is nothing that satisfies that restlessness. It wasn't about a woman in a bad marriage. It was about a person who is struggling with the passage of time and disappointments and a life that is just ordinary. I haven't been writing. Haven't really been doing much in the way of graphics. But I was walking from the bus stop and the phrase, "another year trashed" came into my head. As of an hour before I posted the story, that's all I had. Funny how that happens. Haven't seen one of your stories in awhile either, Chuck. I like your tough, masculine style. Kind of offsets my tendency to be a little too soft and fluffy. Take care.

Jon....my vanity was a big old yellow painted piece of wood furniture with a mirror in the center and drawers on each side with floral pulls and doo dads on the edges, and a yellow bench to match. I guess, in retrospect, it was a pretty hideous item but I thought it was very grown up at the time. I don't know where I got the idea. It was a pretty useless piece of furniture (I'm not the vanity type) but I thought for this character, a vanity would be something she might cling on to as a notion of a more glamorous life. Or not.

"It wasn't about a woman in a bad marriage. It was about a person who is struggling with the passage of time and disappointments and a life that is just ordinary." Perhaps a bit bad. After all, you referenced cheating and lonliness. Perhaps bad to Sunshine. (mounts soap box) I think marriage is a bit overrated. It's held on that pedestal by middle-aged women who have read Cinderella once to often. These same women then perpetuate the myth that marriage is the greatest thing in the world and is filled with happines and joy. Certainly, it starts off with a fantasy beginning with people dropping thousands of dollars on a party before disappearing on an expensive honeymoon. Marriage should be approached with a bit more realism. A bit more pragmatism (I think that's the right word). If this were the case, people might not have the expectation that every day of marriage should be an excerpt from a fairy tale. I know I'm rambling. I also know it only faintly relates to the story. I was "wandering" and looked up to find myself down a side street...grin.

There was a reason I made the main character a woman. Because if I had done the same story from a male point of view, the blame would have been on him for cheating, for not providing for his long suffering wife, etc., etc....which is the usual tale. But any relationship is more than one person's doing. The story wasn't about marriage to me. Marriage is a convenient convention so I wouldn't have to spend a lot of time explaining the relationship these two people have to each other. I agree with you about marriage. But I think a lot of people approach life with rose tinted glasses. When I was in college, I thought things would be a lot different than they really are. What I find fascinating is how we come to terms with the gap between our dreams and our reality. Not everyone has to. Some people achieve their heart's desire. And then there's the rest of us who just struggle along. See, I took a ramble too. It's a nice, sunny day in my town...a good day for taking a walk with a friend. ;)

"What I find fascinating is how we come to terms with the gap between our dreams and our reality." Ahhhh, that's the point right there! Some people never come to terms and leave one marriage for someone else not knowing they are still chasing the impossible dream. "Not everyone has to. Some people achieve their heart's desire." I wonder what percentage of people will stand up and say that. Even movie stars, seemingly having a "Cinderella" life, are unhappy. People whose shoes I wish I were in are unhappy. I've heard too many time about people who have attained that "golden ring" only to ask, "Is this all there is?"

They say, a handy cliche, that happiness is not getting what you want but wanting what you have. And that's the hardest trick of all, isn't it? Because we always see someone with more and that sneaky envy creeps into our hearts. I don't like lotteries for that reason. People are always saying, "when I win the lottery" as if that will be the solution to their problems. And, in my office, it is, "when I retire." But will they be happier then? I doubt if I will be. Some of us are disfunctional in the happiness area.

Very astute observation. I guess it's human nature to allow ourselves to be continuously fooled by, well, OURSELVES...grin.

Which is why writers write, isn't it? To explore human nature. This is my little bugaboo, and I know not everyone will agree, but I think even in science fiction and fantasy (maybe especially in those) it is a mistake to try to leave out the human element. Read "I, Robot" and tell me with a straight face that it is about robots. It's all very fine to write about floppy footed creatures or wiggly eel things, but the story has to have an element of humanity about it or I personaly just don't care to read about it. I know some people like to read about the mechanics of how things work, but those are the pages I flip past. There seems to be a style of writing about these days where everyone is so without emotion or real feeling, that I get the disturbing sense that the author hasn't seen a human being for years. I guess I am too far on the other side. And since I am not published, I can't be considered an authority. But as a reader, I don't find the chllly style very satisfying.

"Which is why writers write, isn't it? To explore human nature." "...it is a mistake to try to leave out the human element." Absolutely. And since, far as I know, humanity is the only lifeform creating original stories, how CAN the humanity be taken out completely? It's inevitable. IOW, I don't think it CAN be left out. I don't think it's your bugaboo. I think there is some human element in every story ever done. I guess that could be a challenge for those who might disagree (grin). Show us one devoid of human feeling/element.

Oh, I think you can go in any bookstore and find the written equivalent of the Vickys in the Temple. Not much humanity. A lot of imitation and plastic people in unlikely outfits without any reason for existing but for the portrayals of sex, violence, and perverse behavior. They sell. They sell big. But they aren't about human beings. I'm not saying that sex and violence are not part of life. I'm saying that's not all there is to life. At least I hope not.

Regardless, the human element is there no matter how thinly developed. There will be some readers who love books without much depth. And there will be readers like you, Dianne. Or even me, to sound uppity. After all, I just finished watching a very good movie about human feelings, etc.--"The Devine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood."

I've read this a few times over the past several days and it catches me every time. I think it hits a little close to home for a lot of women - the female mid-life crisis. (Is this all there is? Can I escape and start over, be my own person, or is it too late?) I really can't offer any constructive criticism, but I wanted to let you know that the story is beautiful in a dark, depressing way.