The Love of Her Life
by Monica Brinkman
The rustle of fabric against bare skin broke the silence of the moment as Mindy twirled and spun in front of the full-length mirror hung on the bedroom door. She curtsied, a demure smile upon her dimple cheeked face, the type of smile only a woman who realizes how hot she looks can possess. After a few poses of pouting, tongue touching nose then circling lips, as well as boosting her amble breasts to overflow the tight white low cut blouse, Mindy exited the bedroom.
She walked to the kitchen while the minutes and seconds ticked away. What a surprise it would be when Jeffrey arrived home from his business trip. She’d be greeting him at the door, adorned in the proverbial French Maid costume, the only piece of clothing hiding the nakedness of her firm, toned body. She blushed when a surge of sexual electricity ran through her body and shuttered at the pleasant feeling of what was to come.
The loud, irritating shrillness of the oven timer interrupted her senses and she rushed to turn off the annoying sound. She opened the oven door and saw the stuffed peppers required another ten minutes or so before they reached perfection. Jeffrey so loved stuffed peppers. He insisted they were prepared with rice and ground chicken rather than the typical ground beef and onions, which took a bit more time to prepare. Mindy didn’t mind. She loved her husband with all her heart and it gave her pleasure to see him satisfied.
Now all she had to do was wait, perhaps another five minutes or so, for his arrival. The familiar ring of the landline broke her contemplation. She rushed toward the phone, picked it up and pushed the button before saying the mandatory, hello.
Mindy grimaced, her face contorted with the accompanying wrinkles. She sobbed and dropped the handset to the floor.
The woman’s voice was clear. The automatic hang up, well known. She knew betrayal. Mindy realized it was happening, again.
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(original French Maid costume stops men dead in their tracks)
In the beginning of “The Love of Her Life”, Ms. Brinkman brings us confidently smiling as voyeurs into the boudoir to meet without disturbing Mindy, a woman confident in her beauty and femininity or so we think. Images, after all, can be deceiving and subtext to a fear that the love of her life sees less in her than she does. I adore how well Mindy is captured by her desire to please which is at the heart of femininity. Yes, she wears her French Maid costume to seduce her Jeffrey upon his business trip and prepares his favorite dish to please him, satisfy his every appetite. Mindy is therefore a character who appeals to the reader as she should; while hiding her insecurities.
I give kudos that we never meet Jeffrey to get his side of the story, because flash fiction must be a lightning bolt not a drawn out storm where action is intense. Clearly to me, this story is expandable in other chapters more backwards in time than forward.
I would film this story in color, because it reminds me of the late 60s Jean-Luc Goddard films more than earlier ones. I would set it in New York rather than Paris, because it does not have a Parisian feel to me.
The last two paragraphs give us the lightning-strike moment of the betrayal happening again. Ms. Brinkman excels here at what I call the crescendo of the last 10% of a story.
Good one Monica. You lead us up that aisle then melt down. Sad, heartbreaking, and good writing.
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Take care all and keep on writing!
I love the touch of adding his stuffed pepper preference, which makes the whole story more personal and hence that much more believable. As for the ending, I agree that it is a wonderful “crescendo of the last 10% of a story.” While I might have preferred it written in the present tense only to give more immediacy, I found this a great read.
You’ve written about the saddest of all agains, Monica, that of marital infidelity. No matter what the plot you develop, no matter how many words, you remain rungs above most in the art of telling a story.
I hope his peppers explode, and not in a good way.
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!
Sorry I missed this. The groove, as it were, tempted my mind on the road you created. A few adjective bumps but hey, when we are on the Brinkman, ride, I wore my boots.
‘If something seems to good to be true, it usually is.’
The further I read into this story the more the above phrase started playing in my head. I agree with the previous comments that you gave us the essential details to make the story personal and built the anticipation so that when we fell at the end, we landed hard.
Excellent work.
Mac laughing sums it all up. What a great ride!