Until One Day

Until One Day

By Charlotte Symonds

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014

All Rights Reserved

Cover Photograph By: Charlotte Symonds

Graphic Design: Manuel Beltran

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

Author’s Bio

Dedication

I dedicate this book to my dearest friends. Due to circumstances and distance we might not see each other as often as we’d like. However, this does not diminish the love I feel for each one. In this life we sometimes must travel though darkness and at times we may stumble and fall. I have been blessed with truly amazing friends who have become my extended family. They have halted many of my falls and when crashing was inevitable they cushioned the impact. Like the eight stars of the Cosmic Teapot within the constellation Sagittarius, which lights up the dark sky, my friends have always been there to help guide my way. Thank you to Marie Patanio, Brenda Jamalkowski, Annie Eccher, Jo-Ann Koch, Marilyn Curley, Donna Ayer, Lisa Sterling and Julie Shahin. And Jeanne Loysen, my North Star, which shines the brightest and can be found even in the darkest of nights.

Acknowledgements

My heartfelt gratitude to Dr. Jeanne Loysen, Margaret Huck and Lisa Marie Sterling, for their collaboration with the editing of this book.

Publisher’s Note

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form, or by means of electrical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. Except for brief quotations used in connection with reviews, written specifically for inclusion in a magazine, a newspaper or newsletter.

Special Note: Author available to be a guest at book clubs, bookstores and libraries. For more information contact the author at chatwiththeauthor@gmail.com

CHAPTER ONE

December 24, 2011

SYDNEY

The blaring of the alarm clock awakened Sydney with a start. As she rolled over to turn it off, she wondered how it was possible she had forgotten to reset it. After all, being Christmas Eve morning there wasn’t a need to be up at 7 a.m. It was then she noticed the empty stem glass sitting on her nightstand reminding her of the wine she had consumed the night before. Her dry mouth confirmed that she had a bit too much to drink. Her recent routine of the last month had become a ritual. After dinner, but most often without, she would indulge in a few glasses of wine before bedtime. They helped to quiet the memories which refused to stay out of the forefront of her thoughts while she attempted to find respite from her anguish through sleep. She wished she could just roll over and fall back to sleep. However, it was evident to Sydney that wasn’t an option; as it was a struggle enough each night to fall asleep the first time.

Once awakened, Sydney was thrust back into the reality of being alone. She touched the unused pillow beside her and felt an ache in her heart. Her hand caressed the soft red Egyptian cotton pillow case which covered it. Sydney recalled purchasing the sheets in celebration after an important win in court. The advertisement for the bedding promised a sleep of opulent comfort that would lull its user to sleep. That was of course total nonsense. What lulled her to sleep was being held closely by Brent, not the softness of a thread count.

Sydney’s first instinct was to crawl under the covers and stay hidden until the whole holiday season was over. But, she believed somewhere down deep inside herself, she possessed enough strength to get through this dreadfully cheery time of year. She grabbed the curtain remote control from the nightstand and pushed the button to open the blackout shades. While they raised, allowing the blinding light to enter her room, Sydney irritably murmured, Shit, another sunny day. Looking up to the heavens she sighed, Would it be too much to ask for just one rainy, miserable day, something more suited to my mood?

Sydney held Brent’s pillow close to her chest and surprisingly happy memories swirled through her mind. She stayed in bed a few minutes longer to savor them, as fond memories of Brent were becoming fewer and far between. As the recollections faded, Sydney realized the bed which once had given her such pleasure had become a recent enemy reminding her of her defeat. While putting on her slippers she tried to convince herself she could get through this day. One day at a time. One day at a time. Just get through one day at a time, and each day it will become easier, she assertively repeated to herself. It had become her daily mantra.

Sydney walked over to the bay window with its built in bench. She sat down on its soft black satin seat cushion and tucked her knees close to her chest. She sat there staring out at the Brooklyn Bridge while trying to make sense of it all. When she and Brent had first looked at this house, the feature which sold her on it was its spectacular view of the bridge. She would often sit on the bench of the bay window leaning against its red throw- pillows, with her laptop on her thighs, working for hours on briefs and contracts that she would bring home from the office. She wondered if perhaps her workload was one of the reasons her husband strayed. Was it because she had put too many hours into her work? She dismissed the idea as Brent spent more hours at work than Sydney had. Although, she wondered now if possibly those hours were not spent at work but rather at his lover’s apartment. She found it hard to believe, how a woman of her intelligence could have been so naive. It was apparent now that she should have taken her friends advice and had not blindly trusted Brent. But they exchanged vows in a church in front of God, their friends and family; how could she not have trusted him?

Sydney was certain Brent couldn’t have left due to her appearance. She worked out at the gym three times a week, took pride in her appearance, and weighed the same as the day they were married. Sydney believed she hadn’t changed, she was the same. Brent somehow must have changed, she thought, without her realizing it. He had still been attentive to her, bringing her flowers at least once a month, going to dinner parties with her friends, holding doors open for her, and pulling out her chair at restaurants. They still made love at least twice a week, and from her perspective their lovemaking had been as passionate as ever. Where were the signs which must have been there all along, but she somehow missed, she wondered?

The bridge was a spectacular view in the mornings from her bedroom window when the sun would glisten off its ropes of steel. It always relaxed her to watch the bridge with its never ending stream of traffic. She would often sit and daydream on the destination of the cars that crossed it. She could spend hours creating stories of fictitious characters. She would imagine lovers on their way to the airport for a romantic get-away, a family on route visiting long-lost relatives on Long Island and weary Wall Street warriors heading off to the Hamptons for a much needed reprieve. The possible scenarios in her mind were endless. If she hadn’t become a lawyer, Sydney believed she would have become a writer. Creating these stories in her mind of would-be travelers always seemed to relieve her from the stress of the demands placed on her from her job, and of late, the stress of being broken hearted.

Stores would be opening earlier today to allow for the flood of last minute shoppers. Sydney was thankful she had finished her shopping long ago, just as she had always done. She was not in the mood to be surrounded by cheerful holiday-spirited people. She kept her eyes open all year long in case she would come upon just the right gift for someone. If she saw something perfect for someone on her list, she would buy it, not caring if it was the month of June. Then it would be tucked away in the back of her closet until November, when the gift would be lovingly wrapped. She could never understand why people waited until the last minute to shop for gifts. Today, Christmas Eve, there would be limited sizes available, limited color selections and stores would be extremely low on their stock. She was certain all of the people on her list deserved more attention for the purchase of their gifts than a last minute run to the store. Her friends were her family and family was her most treasured possession.

Eleven years ago, on Sydney’s first day at the law firm of Barnaby and Clave, she was assigned Candice as her assistant. Candice had proven herself to be well-qualified and an extreme asset to Sydney. Candice assisted Sydney in keeping up with the abundance of paperwork that crossed her desk on a daily basis. Their personalities were totally opposite but, somehow it worked. Sydney was reserved, keeping her private life, just that, private; whereas, Candice wore her heart on her sleeve. Candice would let it be known who she was dating and who she was sleeping with. At times, in great detail, Candice would retell of escapades from a prior evening, bringing a splash of excitement during the preparation of boring corporate briefs. Sydney never knew if Candice was this forthright with everyone she knew or only those she felt would safely keep her confidences. Either way, Sydney was appreciative of the invigorating colorful conversations, which during boring paperwork, could insure that Sydney would break out into laughter.

For Christmas, Sydney had purchased Candice a first edition of The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. During the previous summer, Sydney had overheard a conversation in the break room which Candice was having with one of the other assistants at the firm. Candice had been discussing the troubled life of Sylvia Plath and mentioned that one day, when she had some extra money, she would buy herself a first edition of the book. When Sydney had wrapped the gift, she tucked into the side pocket of the book’s front jacket cover two front-row tickets for the Broadway play The Lion King. Sydney was certain they would be well received for Candice had a slide show of its characters as her computer’s screen saver. Sydney was delighted to find she was correct in her assumption when yesterday Sydney was filled momentarily with joy, as she watched Candice actually jumping with excitement after opening her gift.

For her two best friends, Maria and Peter, Sydney had put in hours of thought in deciding on what each would secretly desire most. She purchased a week-long cruise to the Bahamas for Maria. She picked a resort that was an all-inclusive vacation spot where all amenities were included; and those not covered, Sydney had already pre-paid. Sydney believed Maria, a stay at home mom, and her husband Jeff, a recently laid off construction worker, deserved a romantic vacation away from their three young children and their current stressful financial situation. Sydney also designed a coupon on her computer, for herself to babysit their children at Maria’s house during their Bahamas cruise, and tucked it inside the envelope with the tickets.

It was always hard for Sydney to find the perfect gift for her friend Peter. He had the most exquisite taste yet not the financial means to support it. He was an out of work actor who waited tables at a local pub. Maria and Peter would always set a twenty dollar limit for their gift exchange, but this year Sydney had decided not to honor it. She had come to the realization that the value put on money was relative. The amount of money spent on a gift was unimportant; it was the sentiment put into choosing it that counted. If she spent thousands of dollars on a gift, it shouldn’t matter. After all, she was a lawyer and a successful one at that, and could afford it. Sydney believed she should be able to splurge on her friends if she wanted to. If they spent five, ten or twenty dollars on a gift for her, it mattered not. It was the thought they put into finding the perfect gift for her that was significant. The gift she purchased for Peter this Christmas was no more valuable than the vintage multi-colored beaded evening purse she received from him last Christmas, which he admitted purchasing at the Salvation Army.

Last year she and Peter had spent a whole Saturday shopping for a clutch bag for a New Year’s Eve party which Brent’s law firm was throwing, and they ended the day empty handed. When Sydney opened her gift from Peter last Christmas, she remembered being thrilled when seeing the perfect clutch bag for her outfit. Peter needed some confidence boosting this year she believed as did his career; so Sydney purchased him a gift certificate for new headshots from the best photographer in New York City. Additionally, she purchased Peter a gift certificate for a total body care package and hair makeover at one of the city’s finest salons, prior to the photo shoot. Sydney was certain he would at first be upset with her for the cost involved, but then eventually use it. She knew he needed a pick-me-up after his abrupt break up three months ago with the bartender Carl from the pub where he worked. Peter had believed Carl was the one. So when he walked into the storage room of the pub one night in search of a package of napkins, his world was shaken when he witnessed Carl and a waiter in a compromising situation. Now, it was Sydney’s world that was being shaken.

Christmas was Sydney’s favorite time of the year. It was one of the few memories she could vividly recall from when her parents were still alive. The mere smell of roasting chestnuts from corner venders could bring her back to a time when she and her parents would go Christmas shopping. They walked the sidewalks, with Sydney holding her parents hands, while admiring the street decorations, storefront window displays, and passed cheerful strangers loaded down with shopping bags. She could close her eyes and still see the last Christmas tree they bought as a family, which they had purchased from a purveyor on the corner of 82nd Street and Amsterdam Avenue. The Fraser Fir tree was so tall that it grazed the ten foot ceiling in their living room. The large colorful bulbs that reflected off the overly tinseled tree lit the room with excitement. Each December as she would pass Christmas tree vendors, the richly, aromatic scent of pine from the freshly cut trees that covered empty corner lots would bring back happy memories of Christmas trees past. The pine scent from a freshly cut tree was her most favorite fragrance of the season, understandably so. But, this Christmas was not like any other, the event that occurred a month ago made that a certainty.

Sydney walked into the bathroom this Christmas Eve morning, looked into the mirror and wondered if any amount of makeup would cover the feelings expressed on her face. The whites of her eyes were bloodshot from her constant crying and her eyes seemed sunken. The dark shadows under her eyes made it obvious that she was sleep deprived. She decided to at least attempt to mask the feeling of desperation which she felt. Yet the dark circles were still visible even after several applications of her flesh colored concealer. While reaching for her toothbrush, she noticed Brent’s was there as well. Today, she thought, was the day she would gather all of his belongings and rid herself from the pain that came from seeing them each day. The time had come! She needed to have a fresh start and having Brent’s belongings around her was just prolonging her agony.

Brent hadn’t returned any of her texts or calls asking when he would be picking up his things. Sydney had attempted to contact him so many times that it had become embarrassing. She picked up his white electric toothbrush and threw it into the metal waste basket. Its base hitting the side of the basket made a pinging sound. Point one for Sydney, she thought; at least it was a start. That simple act felt liberating, encouraging her to rid more of his personal effects from her sight. She then opened his side of the bathroom cabinet and threw away all of his expensive colognes, prescriptions and toiletries into the waste basket. As the Preperation H hit the rim of the waste basket she couldn’t help but smile. It seemed amusing to her that in his last month at home he had developed hemorrhoids, as he had become a pain in the ass to her that month as well.

Sydney went back into the bedroom, flung open the double doors to the walk-in closet to purge it of his existence. She was starting to feel exhilarated and not as sullen as she had previously. She looked to the left at the hangers with their neatly arranged suits, sports jackets, ties and pants, then to the right with its shelves piled high with his shirts and sweaters. She took every silk tie, Armani suit, imported hand-made shirt, shoes, and everything else in the closet which was Brent’s and made a pile high upon the bed. My bed, she thought to herself, it use to be our bed. She then went through his dresser drawers and added every pair of pajamas, socks, and underwear, to the already over running pile. Looking at the massive heap on her bed she realized she needed to get some large size garbage bags to put all his belongings into.

Before going to the kitchen to retrieve a box of trash bags Sydney picked up the wine glass from her nightstand. It was one of her most cherished possessions. She had a hard time when her thirtieth birthday was coming up and Peter was well aware of it. Brent had not been compassionate and had turned a deaf ear to the ticking of her biological clock. On her thirtieth birthday Peter had given her one Riedel Burgundy Sommelies lead crystal wine glass. Several years earlier she and Peter had visited the Modern Museum of Art and had seen one of the wine glasses on display. Sydney loved how the subtle outwardly turning of its lip reminded her of a tulip. Peter, who could come up with an off-color remark about anything, commented how he appreciated the Riedel glass because it was hand-made and mouth-blown into a mold and boasted that he was a fan of anything that was mouth-blown. When opening the gift, Sydney was both delighted and saddened. She loved the glass but knew it sold at Tiffany’s with a price tag of over a hundred dollars, well out of reach for an out of work actor. Sydney couldn’t help but wonder how long it had taken Peter to save enough money to purchase it, yet realizing to ask him to return it would have hurt his feelings.

Sydney walked down the stairs into the living room and the site of the elaborately decorated Christmas tree was the first thing to catch her eye. How could she have been talked into having an interior decorator dress their tree this year? It certainly was beautiful but didn’t have one ornament of any sentimental value to it. The decorator had picked a silver bell theme for their tree, which her husband had seemed to delight in. Sydney had never seen so many varieties of silver bells in her life before the tree was dressed. The most infuriating part for her was that instead of the traditional angel with its blue satin gown, flowing brown hair and white feathered wings which had stood high upon their tree since the first year of their marriage, was replace by a trio of large sterling silver bells which had been purchased from Tiffany’s. The Balsam Pine tree looked as if it should have been a window dressing at Bloomingdales and not in her living room, she thought. Sydney quickly passed by it and went into the kitchen, put the wine glass on the counter and got the trash bags from the cabinet under the sink.

Upon walking back through the living room, one of the presents wrapped in blue foil paper, from under the tree was reflecting the sunlight creeping in from a window onto the wall catching Sydney’s eye. It brought her attention to the presents under the tree which she had placed there as soon as the decorator had left on that Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving. Oddly now, she thought, it truly was a black Friday for her. Sydney recalled that on that day she had run upstairs with such excitement to bring down Brent’s gifts, which she had skillfully hidden, to place under their newly decorated tree. After arranging them with loving hands under the tree on the soft red velvet tree skirt with its green satin trim, she then went into the kitchen. She poured Brent and herself eggnog using his favorite Waterford rock crystal glasses, a wedding gift from one of his aunts, which were stored right above the sink as they were used daily. Sydney preferred not using them, as they were heavy and cumbersome when washing.

As Sydney and Brent stood admiring their newly decorated tree and sipping their eggnog, Brent announced calmly in a monotone voice as if he were giving a stock report, that he had fallen in love with Lorna, the tree decorator, and was leaving Sydney. She stood lifeless with her glass falling from her limp hand crashing onto the highly polished Brazilian walnut hardwood floor, smashing into a million pieces just as she felt her life was. Her body was being overrun with unknown emotions as she remained motionless, unable to utter a word or move a muscle. She didn’t have the emotional or physical strength to pick up her arms to push Brent away as he softly kissed her left cheek. Sydney watched as if in slow motion as Brent walked to the hall closet, took out a bag he had apparently previously packed and walked out of her life. His last words before closing the front door were, I hope you understand, and I wish you well.

Sydney stood there now, in the same spot where Brent had kissed her cheek and thought to herself, SCREW HIM, after ten years of marriage those were his last words? She still did not understand how their marriage had deteriorated to the point where Brent would stray, without her knowledge of there being a problem. Sydney had called his cell phone, his office, and had left numerous messages asking Brent to meet with her. All attempts went unanswered. He had been her best friend. How was it he could leave without an explanation? Sydney needed closure, to understand what happened and what went wrong. It had been a month and not so much as a text message from him.

While gazing at the large number of gifts, under the perfectly pyramid shaped Christmas tree, Sydney was reminiscing about her and Brent’s last moments together when the door bell rang. Sydney opened the front door, and before her stood a gentleman in his thirties, wearing a pair of blue jeans, black ski jacket and a Yankees baseball cap. The man asked, Are you Sydney Blair Anderson? Upon responding yes, he handed her an envelope and declared, You’ve been served. She closed the door slowly, in shock, realizing what might be in the envelope. She quickly tore it open and there they were staring her right in her face…divorce papers! After ten years of what she thought was a happy marriage, this was the only closure she was getting, divorce papers. She read quickly through the pages frantically looking for the reason Brent documented as the cause of the dissolution of their marriage. There it was in black and white, irreconcilable differences. This was not acceptable! The reason stated was a lie! Sydney decided when she returned to work after Christmas, she would have a colleague file papers on her behalf naming Lorna Fione as the reason for the