Bound and Impatient – These Words Have Haunted Donna Belauche for the Last Three Days
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Dawn at Last Written & Published by Lawrence Grodecki Revised Edition (2019) This is a work of fiction. The incidents, characters, and dialogues are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any form of information storage and retrieval system − except in the case of brief quotations as part of critical articles or reviews − without the written permission of the publisher or author, except where permitted by law. Cover Design by Lawrence Grodecki Lawrence Grodecki - Fine Art Copyright © Lawrence Grodecki 2019 ISBN: 978-0-9920296-1-6 ASIN: B00FI1S9Y0 For Sarah and Amy - May you live as fearless as butterflies, if only from time to time. Table of Contents Chapter 1 – The Ending Begins Chapter 2 – It’s Sunni . and They’re Both Wet Chapter 3 – Squishing a Grape Chapter 4 – A Shocking Surprise Chapter 5 – The Best Laid Plans Chapter 6 – Seeing Double . Again Chapter 7 – Tossing One’s Truffles Away Chapter 8 – The Secret Exchange Chapter 9 – Trying to Plan a Destiny Chapter 10 – It's a Date? Chapter 11 – Hot Topics on a Cool Night Out Chapter 12 – It’s Not the Tips Chapter 13 – Fully Applying the Principles Continued on the next page . Table of Contents - Cont'd Chapter 14 – The Gathering of a Monkey, a Toad, and a Chicken Chapter 15 – The Goddess Awakens? Chapter 16 – And So They Dance Chapter 17 – Pushing Buttons . and Talking it Over Chapter 18 – On to the Frying Pan Chapter 19 – A Late Lunch Of Cognac and Pastrami Chapter 20 – Look Out . Wet Flooring! Chapter 21 – 317 Browning Road . Revisited Chapter 22 – The Painting Chapter 23 – The Musketeers Get Defensive Chapter 24 – We Can Still Dance Chapter 25 – Sunni’s Happy Daze Chapter 26 – Getting the Giggles About the Author Chapter 1 The Ending Begins Bound and impatient – these words have haunted Donna Belauche for the last three days. They have nothing to do with submission or domination, at least not in today's psycho-sexual context. She's too much of a loner to dwell on that, besides she left all that stuff behind. If anyone really knew her, that would marvel at her patience. Yet this phrase – this title of a painting – screams at her in a whisper, but in a language she doesn't understand. Perhaps it's all beyond words? Something's wrong. Change is required, but change what? The restless feeling is maddening, all because of a few words, like pins in a voodoo doll. She thought she buried that doll years ago, yet here it is again. Her only refuge is to think of something else. Thankfully, she has no more time to dwell on it. Donna must prepare for her next two-hour session – her time to escape – at least for awhile. Her next client is due in fifteen minutes. She quickly reviews her plans for the session. Thankfully, it will be a easy one – he's an easy client. He has been coming to her for almost three years now, so on average he is more than half done. All the same, she must soon let him go. That's an easy change, at least according to her plans. Ben Talbot, her two o’clock, is thankfully quite different than her other clients. He is much less predictable, which makes it easier in a way – less preparation required – and she does like to improvise. In a way it's like a steady stream of first dates. Her clients are always trying to impress her, knowing that she is completely unavailable under any circumstance. That outcome is guaranteed. They playfully torture themselves in a form of a self-inflicted angst. They fool themselves in the thought that one day they will have her in a different capacity than the one of therapist. She makes this impossible . but then there is Ben . he just might screw up everything. Her performance is not the same with him around. She never knows what he will say next, though in manner he is quite consistent. She likes that. He always shows up late for their sessions, and then there is his coffee . he likes that fresh and hot and strong, loads of cream, the real cream, and about two teaspoons of sugar. With that in mind, she scurries off to the kitchen to prepare a fresh pot of mud. That is actually his term, not hers, though she's sure he would actually drink real mud if it had enough cream and sugar. He is nothing special to look at, average at a glance, but after a short while, there is no doubt that he is a handsome man. She first thought he must be 5' 11". However, in one session his height came up in conversation, and he clarified the issue. He claimed that in fact he is 5' 10" and seven-eighths . and a bit. You would expect such a slender man to move quickly, but he doesn't. He's a walking oxymoron, like a lazy gazelle, or at least one in slow motion. His contradictions suit him well. He has that look of vulnerability, as soft as a baby's bottom. However, he seems strong in spirit – a soft invincibility. If he likes you, he will occasionally pass a smile your way. He has a knack with the timeless ones, the smiles that linger, becoming indelible memories. They come without warning, unintentionally, like a child. It is his trademark, one that Donna noticed by their third session. That's when she wrote in her journal, “genuinely kind and charming”, but next to that she added, “perhaps a little dangerous . be very careful.” Her two o’clock has a well established business as a house painter – a very successful one. He has one hired hand, he calls her his helper. He could hire more but intentionally stays with one. This keeps his affairs small, less complicated, and assures the finest quality in the city. Because of all of this, he is in the highest demand with the leading decorators of the region, especially the ones who specialize in renovations. They keep him fully booked for months in advance. Donna fondly remembers their first session, when he told her that he paints. Before he could say more, she then rambled on about her favourite abstract painters, then the impressionists, and then a little about Gustav Klimt. Finally she asked about his specialty, which medium did he prefer? She blushed in embarrassment when he replied, “Sometimes oil, but mostly latex!” Seeing her embarrassment, he explained that he paints houses, not pictures. That's when he first flashed one of those smiles, returning her reference to Klimt, “But I like The Kiss more than the rest.” Now, with one minute to go, she is ready. She can relax, assuming that he will be late as always, but then the doorbell rings. She gasps when she opens the door, smiling at such a comical figure – soaking wet – the water dripping from his long nylon jacket and his full head of hair . the epitome of a modern day Charlie Chaplin, just taller and with more meat on his bones, and no moustache or hat. Then his smile comes out. “Come in Ben,” she says graciously. “You’re soaking wet, what ever are you doing? . And where’s that old umbrella of yours?” “Hi. I gave it to someone who needed it more. Besides, I didn’t have time to shower this morning.” He backs out into the hall to remove his wet jacket and his shoes. “That’s okay, I’ll take that.” She gingerly places the wet coat on the rack, letting it drip over a re-positioned rubber mat. “Ah, nothing like a warm, soaking rain in the middle of June – gotta love it! You know, you're street is really kind of beautiful in this kind of rain – actually it's always beautiful – Donna, you're very lucky.” She just smiles, “You must be ready for some fresh coffee . why don’t you sit down and I’ll bring you some?” He nods, but before sitting, he asks her for something dry to sit on. She brings him a big plush towel, draping it on the burnt-orange loveseat. Ben sighs comfortably as he plunks himself down. He likes that she refuses to change anything in her office, not a single thing since their first meeting. The warm colors of this loveseat, and the matching one across the table, he feels at home here. Her place is on the opposite couch, and the only thing between them is a fine mahogany coffee table. The thick multi-colored area rug soothes his tired feet, something he always appreciates after spending so much time standing. He often compliments her on her tastes . the plants and pictures, even the lamps and the coasters. He is grateful that she doesn’t have a fireplace, as then this could easily pass for a suite. That kind of warmth might just be too tempting for him . he wonders how that might be . the two of them, by a fire. While he daydreams, Donna brings him his coffee and then takes her usual seat. She lets him enjoy his first sip and watches him gaze across the room, toward the window. In this dense rain you can barely see the row of two-storey houses across the street.