When One Door Closes

    Author: Ey Wade Genre:


    Heartstrings, soul-ties and wishful thinking. Four shorts and a long tale of fortitude through difficult relationships, tugged heartstrings, soul-ties and wishful thinking.

    Lesson Between the Lines- A woman ruminates on the lessons learned from an ex lover.

    The Battle is Not Between Us
    -A woman confronts whom she thinks is the person having an affair with her husband.

    No Regrets- A rejected wife and mother of eight finally takes a stand and puts an end to the mistreatment she receives from an ex-husband.

    The Cooking Class- Franklin Henderson finds his true love behind the recipes in a cooking class.

    Betrayal- A young mother, thrown out of her home by her husband and her child taken away finds out love can heal a broken hear.

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    The Battle is Not Between Us
    A woman is accosted in her home by the wife of a co-worker.

         Turning the burner off under the pot of rice and wiping the flour from her hands onto the front of her jeans, Quentin Alexander went to answer the knock on the apartment’s door.
         The simultaneous opening of the door and the power of the unanticipated punch in the face knocked her flat to the floor. Without a pause a body landed on her stomach and she was immediately struggling and blocking blows to her face. Adrenaline rushed through her veins like electricity through wires. Her heart felt ready to burst from fear and confusion.
         Unable to return any of the blows that made contact with her body Quentin concentrated on blocking the blows to her face by holding her arms in a crossed position. Afraid the stranger beating her would kill her, she wrapped her legs around the lower torso of the person above, pushed her crossed arms into the chest of the assailant and at the same time rolled her body until she was on the top of what she now knew to be a woman. The quick roll of the self-defense move had her as superior and she looked into the stunned gaze of her attacker.
         Breathing heavily, Quentin sat on the woman’s legs and held her straining arms stretched above her head and pinned to the floor.
        “Be still because if you hit me again I will kill you. Who the hell are you?” she questioned.
        “I’m Josiah’s wife.”
        “Don’t try to act like you don’t know.”
        “He’s not married. I asked him.”
       The woman bucked her body to try and knock Quentin off.
        “You are a liar.” She bucked again. “Get the hell off of me.”
       “Hey, you’re a damned maniac. Bustin’ in my house and attacking me. I don’t know what you’ll do next. For all I know you could have a gun. I should call the police.” Quentin bounced on the woman’s legs. “Be still.”
         Quentin, taking advantage of the power of her position to lift the woman’s head and chest for enough off the floor that the impact of the thrush downward would jar when her head hit the floor, Quentin slammed it down to her second command of be still.
        “Hell,” the woman gritted through her teeth. “You’re the one that has been screwing with my husband.”
        “Whoa, wait a minute. Let’s get a couple of facts straight. I’ve only known him three weeks. No sleeping around here.”
         Using her hands she pressed her weight into the woman’s chest and stomach to aid her in crossing over and standing, Quentin climbed across the woman, stood. Grabbing the loose ends of her below shoulder length hair in one hand she stooped to retrieve the rubber band torn from the strands in the struggle and started to return it to the ponytail style she had been wearing. Her hands were shaking too much and she tossed the band on the island countertop in the kitchen.
         Glaring at the heavily breathing woman still lying on the floor Quentin took two cokes from the refrigerator,angrily yanked up the rubber band,and walked back into the living room. What she wanted to do was bash the can in Josiah’s wife’s face, instead she silently handed the woman one before taking a seat on the couch.
        From the corner of her eye Quentin watched as the woman opened the can, took a sip and rubbed her empty hand across her face with shaky movements. Taking a big gulp from her own can, Quentin leaned her head back while keeping her glance on the woman from the corner of her eye.
         “What’s your name?” she asked.
         “I’ll tell you this much, Shanel,” she sat up and pointed her finger at Josiah’s wife. “Before you think about bustin’ into some other woman’s home you’d better lose a little weight, take some self-defense classes and then change your mind and kick Josiah’s sorry ass. Hey, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying you’re fat.” she raised her hands in a defensive mode. “I’m just sayin’ you’re breathing all hard like you’re gonna have a heart attack and If you hadn’t caught me by surprise I could have hurt you.” She looked at the strands of her hair entangled in the rubber band. “And why the hell did you come to fight me? Do you see how much of my hair you pulled out?” She tossed the band towards the woman and it hit her in the face. “This shit right here,” Quentin lifted a hand full of hair to show and then let it fall back down. “Is real and your pulling it hurt like hell.” Quentin got up quickly, rushed across the room and examined her face in the mirror. “Oh my God, you better be glad I don’t have any photo shoots for the next two weeks or I would press charges on you.” She looked at the woman searchingly. “You must not have any children.”
         “We have two, a two year old girl and a three month old boy.” She answered after taking another sip from her can.
         “Oh, that explains the mushy body. Okay, sorry that was low of me.” Quentin raised her hands in the air and apologized at the look the woman gave her. “Well, I can tell you definitely don’t care about your children. You could have been killed. You don’t know me. You don’t know what kind of weapon I have in this house. I feel like coming over there and slapping some sense into you. I can’t get over you bustin’ in my house and hitting me in the face.”
        “I can’t get over you screwing with my husband.”
        “Whoa, wait a minute. I’m not messing with your damn husband. I met him three weeks ago and went out with him once. He’s not my type. He said he was not tied to anyone, not married and didn’t have any children. This battle you wanna have is not between you and me it belongs between you and Josiah. Get off the floor and sit on the chair over there.”

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