Hey there!
I hope you’re having a fantastic June, you’re staying safe, and you’re avoid the mosquitos (I think I’ve been bitten more in the last six minutes than I have in the previous six years).
We’re back this week with the next installment of The Forbidden Book Club after skipping last week. So, to make up for it this week is a double-helping. Hopefully you don’t mind ;)
And, if you’re new to The Forbidden Book Club story, make sure to start out on Chapter 1 to catch up!
Well, I’ve got some editing to do, so for tonight, buh-bye for now!
-Greyson
The Forbidden Book Club
Chapter 3, Part I
…continued…
Charles eyes traced over familiar grooves in the popcorn ceiling when the morning alarm sounded. He hadn't slept well at all the previous night. His mind wouldn't shut down as it skipped from one topic to the next. He reached out and silenced the alarm, the book sitting next to the clock. He had initially fallen asleep reading the book. Nothing put him to bed faster than trying to stay up reading, but he had still knocked out what he thought to be an impressive number of pages.
Something felt strange. Beyond the lack of sleep and his body doing its best to coax him back into slumber, he felt, for the lack of a better word, empty. And he knew it had nothing to do with sleeping alone. He could probably list the number of times he and Pamela had shared the same bed in the last six months; a statistic becoming more troublesome by the day. He brought that up one time with Pamela, who went on to say everything was about sex with him. That hadn't been what he was referring to at all. Of course, he made the mistake of saying it couldn't be about sex because she was never around to have any. Big mistake. Blew up into a big argument that didn't have any real resolution. Charles avoided bringing it up now, and in fact, he had become accustomed to the barren spot next to him. Now it felt almost weird when she did climb into bed. No, the feeling of emptiness came from somewhere else. He just couldn't put his finger on it, despite it pressing down on his chest.
Montgomery jumped onto the bed and sat, inches away from his face. Charles kept his eyes closed, hoping the cat would curl up next to him and fall asleep. If the cat curled up with him he'd probably sleep right along with the furry little friend. Snuggles from Montgomery in the morning were few and far between, so he liked to take advantage when he could.
When Montgomery started to paw at his cheek and aggressively meow he knew the cuddling was not to be.
"Alright, alright, I get it."
Charles sat up and stared at the cat. Montgomery locked eyes for a few seconds before meowing again and running off in the direction of his food bowl. By the time Charles had kicked away the blanket, Montgomery was clawing at his bowl, determined to make as much noise as possible.
"Who needs an alarm when you have a cat," Charles said to nobody in particular. Although to be fair, the cat had saved him from over sleeping and missing work on more than one occasion. He had no passion for the work he did and had no problem sleeping in and skipping work. He only did it to make Pamela happy. Truth be told he knew he'd probably enjoy making sandwiches or flipping burgers in the morning and playing music in the evening more than hacking away at a keyboard and sifting through spreadsheets. His wife, on the other hand, would not. Pamela and her entire family were very much title driven, and "Executive Burger Flipper" wouldn't play well at the next family gathering.
"Sometimes you've just got to do what's best for your significant other." And yet, when the words left his lips, the emptiness flared through his body. He didn't know why. But he did hope the empty feeling in his chest wouldn't interfere with his morning cup of coffee. The coffee would at least help perk him up for the morning, and perhaps help him think clearly and shed some light on why he felt the way he did.
He opened a can of cat food and scooped it out into Montgomery's dish. The cat gave Charles a sinister look before turning his attention to the tender meal in front of him.
"Sometimes I wish there was something that could nourish the heart like a can of processed meat can nourish a cat's stomach."
I doubt something like that comes in a can.
****
People 200 years ago must have been tiny.
Erika attempted to lay back in the bathtub, but she only managed to send more bubbled water over the edge of the porcelain barrier. The tub looked small before she attempted to take a bubble bath for the first time. When in use it was downright claustrophobic. A coffin would have had more space.
Before she moved she loved to wake up a bit early and let her body relax in a hot bubble bath. She'd let the tub fill slowly, all while reading from the newest book in her collection. Today it hadn't gone completely accordingly to plan. It took her most of the time to find a somewhat comfortable position, and even using the word comfortable was pushing it. She gave up having her entire legs submerged in the bath, so her knees flared out the water like two massive ice burgs. And the tub wasn't wide enough for both shoulders, so she rocked back and forth, alternating which shoulder had the water and which had the cold air. So she hadn't read as much as she would have liked, but it felt nice enough to at least start the morning with a bath. She hadn't had the opportunity since arriving in Savannah. Most of her days started with sifting through boxes to find clothing suitable for both work and the weather. Now that she had a few more boxes put away she at least had all her clothes hanging up, so she could start to fall back into the old routine.
As she contorted her back and submerged her head into the water to rinse, she couldn't help but play over the conversation she had with Nicole the previous night. Erika didn't really have any expectations going into it, so she didn't know what she should have expected coming out of it. She was left feeling, what was it?
Empty.
Or at least not satisfied. But Nicole was probably right. Did Erika really want her opinion or did she just want someone to agree with her? Secretly yes, Erika wanted someone to tell her everything would be alright and that she should continue on with book club and with spending time with Charles. But, as a good friend does, Nicole told her not what she wanted to hear, but probably what she needed to hear. For now, Erika decided to just play along with book club and let it go. After all, it was innocent fun, even if she did have the occasional naughty fantasy, right?
Just keep telling yourself that, Erika.
Satisfied that all the soap had been rinsed from her hair Erika sat up and pulled the plug on her bath. It coughed and gurgled as water surged down the drain. She climbed out of the tub and wrapped herself in a towel. Erika knew she had feelings for Charles, and as long as they continued to see each other they wouldn't go away. She just needed to keep everything in check and it would be okay. At least that's what she told herself.
****
"So, what do you think of the book so far?" Erika asked Charles. They sat outside of a small corner coffee shop, more at home in a hidden Italian alcove than anywhere in the United States. The meringue paint of the historic building glowed a warm gold in the evening sun. The offsetting ironwork and relief columns supporting both construction and overhead deck reflected the warm color tones. The small table partitioning the two offered barely enough room for their cups of coffee. Across the street, a church stretched for the sky in its attempt to reach heaven. Sunlight dripped down the turquoise steeples while the stained glass windows came to life for anyone looking. To the other side of the corner coffee shop stood one of Savannah's park squares. The soothing sound of rippling water from a large fountain accompanied with the clip-clop of a passing horse-drawn carriage added orchestration to their conversation. Every time she was with Charles it seemed like a modern fairytale. If only she could stop the clock from reaching midnight.
A week had passed since their last meet up. While neither of them had finished the book Erika thought it best to get together and talk about what they'd read so far. Charles agreed. In reality, she just wanted an excuse to see him. Be around him. Experience him. She thought maybe Charles felt the same way, but knew she shouldn't ask him. She had started writing in a journal earlier in the week. The bubbling of thoughts swelled in her head and she needed a way to let out her feelings without instant rebuke from Nicole. While she hadn't journaled since grade school, it felt good. Thankfully this go around she didn't need to hide it from a mischievous little brother.
"I'm enjoying it. I wasn't sure what to expect, really."
"You didn't read the back cover?"
Charles shook his head. "I wanted to be surprised. The first few chapters, where everyone is underground and unable to see anything, I found it fascinating how the author described everything, all without using color or physical descriptions someone with sight might use. I can't say I've read anything like that before. Not that I have a large book portfolio to draw from."
Erika smiled. She loved seeing him express himself. The way he used his hands. As if painting a picture just for her.
"No," she said, "there aren't many other books that avoid visual descriptions. I guess unless you read an author who just doesn't describe anything."
"There authors like that?"
"Tons. Hemingway. You need a good imagination to read him. Otherwise, you'll see nothing but stick figures on the paper of your mind"
"Well, then I'd be in trouble."
"Oh, I doubt that. A musician and songwriter like you."
Charles smiled at that. An almost bashful smile. Like a child being praised by a parent of a newly discovered skill. Erika got the impression Pamela didn't compliment or even acknowledge his musical talent. If she saw it as a hobby she probably complimented it as such.
"So what about you?" Charles asked. "How do you feel about the book so far?"
Erika took a sip of her chai tea. She had decided to switch it up from the usual pumpkin spice. "I'm intrigued to see where the story goes. Has potential. The relationship between the two main characters is interesting. Want to see how that develops. There has to be some kind of romantic relationship eventually between them. So I'm curious if the author dives right into it or if it's drawn out. "
"What makes you think that?"
"They're just too opposite. From different places. Different lives. You can't put too people together who are exactly the same. It's boring."
"So you don't want someone who's like you?"
Erika eyed Charles with a curious smile. "Oh, so we're talking about me now?"
Charles playfully shrugged, yet his eyes felt distant.
"Well," Erika continued. "In real life of course I want someone who I connect with and have similar passions and interests. I don't want to be that couple with nothing to talk about other than what's on TV. Perfect relationships in books are boring. You want drama. Although that's the last thing I want in my love life. Constant drama." She took a sip of her drink. "What about you and Pamela?"
Charles sat with his back to the outside wall, his legs crossed. On most men, she wouldn't have liked white pants and penny loafers. She found the look a bit too Miami Vice 80s. But his were perfectly tailored and form fit. When he uncrossed and re-crossed his legs toward her she could see how the fabric clung to his thighs. It gave just a hint of where his manhood lightly pressed against the fabric. God, did she want to be the fabric.
"Me and Pamela? I'm trying to decide if I want to refer to it as constant drama or nothing to talk about."
Erika looked up from his thighs to his face. His eyes were distant, for some reason. As if his body sat in the chair next to her but his mind drifted somewhere else. And while she managed to pull out the occasional talkative outburst and hand gestures, he had been far quieter than normal.
"Is everything alright?" she asked.
The question seemed to catch him off guard. He blinked out of his stupor and looked back to her, smile on his face, but she could tell he forced it. She might have only known him for a short amount of time but she knew his authentic smile better than her own. The way it radiated heat and made her knees buckle. This one looked like someone tried to replicate a master painting with marginal success.
"Had a not so great conversation with Pamela last night." He stopped and considered for a moment. "Well, another not so great conversation with Pamela last night. Been having a lot of those lately."
Erika's heart slammed into her ribs. A coldness dripped into her stomach. A bad conversation with Pamela could only mean good things for her, and her potential, right? And multiple bad conversations? And yet she hated herself for thinking that way. She hated he needed to go through pain to be closer to her. It made her sick to her stomach and yet deep down she wanted it. Or at least she needed it. Like a drug that both nourished and corrupted her soul. Erika moved closer to Charles but didn't let her chest touch the table. He might hear the rattling of her heart against it.
"What's going on?" she finally asked.
"I don't want to bore you with the details."
"Hey, it's book club. What happens in book club stays in book club." She tried to joke but it bounced right off of him.
"Maybe it's nothing. I don't know."
"Hey, sometimes it feels better to talk about it. Or at least say it out loud."
Charles sighed. His face drawn. Erika hated herself even more.
"So Pamela hasn't been home on a regular basis for going on two years now. Was always supposed to be a short-term thing. Take a few months and then move on to the next step of her career. That kind of thing. It's her passion, and I didn't want to stand in her way. Not that doing so was an option. She would have done it whether I protested or not, but I wanted her to go after what made her happy. With the job she gets to see the world, new cities, new countries, a few days at a time. For a person like her, that's perfect. But it's not something I can ever be a part of. And it's been a drag on me. Some days it feels like someone jammed a faucet in me, slowly draining me of, well, my love for her. That person who came up with that whole 'distance makes the heart grow fonder' thing is an idiot. Something someone says who's never dealt with it. Distance is probably more like a drug on a relationship. You go without it for some time and you crave it, but then, eventually, you just don't need it any longer. My feelings for her. A drip one day. A drip another day. It's not much. By the time you realize something's the matter you've almost run dry."
Charles looked off in the distance, beyond the coffee shop. Beyond the park. Beyond anything in front of him, to a memory far away.
"Anyway. So last night she told me the current job was in talks to have it extended out for at least another year. And, well, I just don't know how much longer I can deal with being second place to someone. I told her as much. She didn't take it well."
Erika watched him and tried to read him but couldn't. She'd never seen him so exposed before. At that moment, she realized something. She realized she would rather see him happy than like this, even if it meant never being with him. She realized she wasn't just attracted to his body or to his mind. That she sincerely cared about his happiness. And that he deserved it far more than whatever her selfishness craved.
"I'm sorry."
She reached out and touched his arm. His warmth surged up her own and into her chest. As if he could charge her very being simply through touch. He smiled. The charge surged.
"Thanks. Is what it is I guess," he shrugged. "Life isn't usually fair. Just one of those things."
"No reason why it can't be."
"Maybe."
Charles started to drift away again. Caught in a current of memory. But he snapped himself out of it as quickly as it came. "I'm sorry. This is book club day and I'm bringing it all down."
"No, not at all."
"I have an idea." His face suddenly lit up, as if the light bulb of his idea warmed his face as well.
"What is it?"
"Can't tell you. I have to show you." He pushed himself up from the small table so suddenly his nearly full coffee cup spilled all over his white pants. "Well, that's what I get for wearing white pants."
The growing brown spot spread like spilled ink on his upper thigh. Erika couldn't help but giggle at not only the spilled coffee but that the wet fabric was clinging to his manhood. Her chest heaved. She could feel the skin of her breasts tighten as her nipples went hard against her bra. It took every ounce of willpower to not make a comment. She forced herself to look away.
I'll take my coffee with cream, sugar, extra penis.
Erika held back her laugh as she looked to the ground.
Charles did what he could with the single napkin, but he was still left with a massive brown spot on his upper thigh.
Um, yes, I'll have the penis spice latté, grandee size, please. God, I could go all day.
"Guess I can't take you anywhere," Erika said the only joke she thought suitable out loud.
Charles laughed. "Guess not." He placed the wadded napkin back on the table. "But if you're not too embarrassed to be seen with me allow me to lead the way."
Erika couldn't stop smiling at the entire situation. Neither could Charles.
"Oh, I'm embarrassed. But you've piqued my interest so I'll go along with it."
Their laughter joined the orchestration of rippling water and the sound of horse hooves on cobblestone as they left the coffee shop.
On their way to Charles' truck, they stopped off for ice cream. A small, local joint, photographs of actors and props taken from movie sets hung from walls. When Charles discovered she hadn't tried a scoop before he insisted they immediately changed that, calling it a Savannah institution. Despite entering just a few minutes before closing time, a small line of treat-seeking patrons waited in front of them. It gave Erika time to look over the menu and salivate over each tantalizing carton if desert, each proudly displayed under glass. When it came their time to order Charles opted for a scoop of mint chocolate chip and a scoop of strawberry in a cup.
"I would have thought you to be a cone guy," Erika joked.
"I'm very much a cone guy. But my pants have already taken one for the team today, and a cone is just asking for trouble."
"Well, then a little mint chocolate on top wouldn't damage it any further."
The woman behind the counter smirked at the two. She motioned to the waffle cones behind her. Charles laughed, relenting.
"Yeah, add one on top for me."
"And you, ma'am?"
"Double-chocolate, with waffle cone."
The woman behind the counter leaned into the display, scooping out the ice cream.
"Didn't feel like trying something out of the ordinary?"
"Hey, if they can't do chocolate right, they can't do anything right. So sampling the chocolate tells me everything I need to know."
"Now that might be the most enlightening statement I've heard in a long time," Charles said.
Erika shrugged jokingly. "What can I say? I'm an astute scholar."
Charles paid in cash. The woman counted out his change.
"Oh, could I have those quarters?" Erika asked.
"Sure." Charles handed the coins over.
Erika took the change and went over to a small sticker vending machine tucked in a corner by the front door. She placed the coins into the designated slots and pushed the extended metal handle into the machine. When she pulled the handle back out a protected sticker sat where the coins had been. She picked up her prize and they left the shop.
"Well I hope you enjoy the ice cream," Charles commented.
"And I hope you enjoy your cone." She held out her cone. He tapped his ice cream to hers in a dessert cheers.
Erika licked her ice cream. "Oh. Wow. Yeah, this is good."
"So the chocolate passes your test."
She nodded, her mouth diving back into the large scoop for more. "Mmm-hmmm."
Charles smiled. He licked at his cone. Erika couldn't help but watch his tongue expertly slide over the mint chocolate. As if he went in slow motion, just for her. She wondered what else he could do with his tongue.
"So, what was your sticker door prize?"
Erika pulled it from her pocket and flipped open the cardboard protector around the sticker, revealing a black and white photo of Forest Gump sitting on a park bench with text reading "Keep Savannah Historic" around him.
Charles nodded his approval.
"What does it mean?"
"Keep Savannah historic?"
This time Erika nodded.
"Well," he ran his tongue around a minty green drip trying to escape down the side of his cone. For a moment Erika forgot what she had asked as she watched the tongue glide along the ridges, yet just enough pressure to make sure he lapped up the dripping treat. "Savannah has changed a good amount in the last few years. You still have the historic buildings and the squares. The city has some pretty strict guidelines for what can and can't be built. But developers have elbowed their way into city hall and massaged the rules a bit, so now more and more of those mix-use generic buildings are starting to pop up. Parts of the city now look like southern gem meets Soviet era Moscow. So 'Keep Savannah Historic' has become a bit of a tag line, or rallying call, for locals who want to maintain what makes Savannah the city it is."
"If there's one thing people can rally behind, it's Tom Hanks."
"Ain't that the truth."
They both laughed as they walked, street lights slowly glowing to life around them as the sun burned under the horizon, leaving the sky awash in a pink and purple watercolor.
…to be continued…