Forever Love
Chapter Three
Chris had had enough. He was sick and tired of his dead end, no purpose job. He had had enough, and he was about ready to quit. It was for the best, he knew that years and years slaving away doing absolutely nothing wasn't helping him, but hurting him.
Now if only he could convince Marissa of that… he'd be crystal.
-----FL-----
"So wait, this is Liz James we're talking about?"
Haley sighed, looking at her list of possible employers that was now halfway scratched out. "No, ma'am, I'm Haley James."
The woman on the other end seemed confused. "Who is this Haley James person? You said I'd get Liz James here tonight!"
She tried to hide her frustration, propping her head up on one hand and cradling the phone in her other. "Haley James? I'm her sister. Her younger," (less talented), "Sister."
The woman, Mrs. Cosand, didn't seem convinced whatsoever. "Is she… are you, able to meet the vocal standards of your sister, Ms. James?"
Haley didn't know what to say. Of course she thought she was able to… she thought she was better, for God's sake. Perhaps it was the influence of her parents. The constant reminder being beaten into her mind that she was, and always would be, second best to that of her sister's goddess like status. It had taken a toll after all the years.
As Mrs. Cosand waited on the line for a response, Haley seriously thought about hanging up and just starting over. She wanted with extreme certainty to just give up and go work at a 2-star karaoke bar, if that's what it took to do what she loved and not be compared to her sister.
"Ms. James? Are you there?" Mrs. Cosand questioned, sounding a little more than annoyed.
Haley sighed, "Yes, I'm able to meet the standards. I won't let you down, ma'am."
It was almost as if you could hear the relief in the woman's voice as she spoke: "I look forward to having you in my club next week." The two discussed times, band status, and salary. As soon as the call was over, Haley, feeling strangely satisfied, couldn't help but feel a little incomplete as she had nothing or no one to share her success with.
-----FL-----
Chris sat on his porch with his two friends Sean Rice and Jeremy Worrell. Chris was strumming his guitar, Sean sat with his bass and Jeremy with his temporary set of drums, a few pots and pans. Marissa and some of her friends sat just inside the house, close enough to hear the 'progress' that Chris and his 'band' were making. The women were discussing world politics, what happened on General Hospital that week… important stuff.
Chris played a chord, and began singing softly his latest attempt at song writing. As he and his friends played their little tune, Marissa sat watching, growing more and more annoyed with her husband. Every once in a while, he would look inside and cast her a smile, each time adding to her growing impatience. Finally, she had had enough and stood, running into their bedroom with tears streaming down her face. Chris sighed, knowing that he had once again displeased his wife. He ran through the front door and to their bedroom, knocking because she had locked herself in.
"Marissa? Come on, open the door."
He could hear her loud, dramatic sobs. Deep down, he knew that he was the cause of all her misfortune and unhappiness, but somewhere along the line, it all started to blend together and not mean as much to him when she got like this, which was often.
"Marissa! Damn it, open the door!" He tried the knob again, and this time managed to get in. She was sitting on the bed, and her watery eyes found their way to his and instantly made him want to comfort her, even if she was being unsupportive. He tried once more. "Marissa… please, tell me what's wrong…"
She let out a half sob, saying simply: "I want to talk to my family…"
It wasn't like he hadn't heard this line before. Her family lived up North, some place in between Lake Tahoe and Mount Elizabeth, and had mentioned that if Chris and Marissa up and moved some place close, he'd have a job, a steady job, waiting for them when they did.
She always brought it up… "He's just got a job waiting for you up there; I don't understand why you won't take it!"
Now he was getting angry. "Rissa, my friends are here. My band is here… what's so hard for you to understand?"
She scoffed. "Your band, Chris? Your band is two losers who can barely play," she paused. "You've got you wife and your little girls living in a dump, you do, and we can.. We can barely afford to make rent, Chris." She reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out a crumpled envelope addressed to him. He pulled out a rent notice, attached was a letter of eviction.
She stood, wiping her eyes. "Just think about it, Chris. Think about it. Cause I am not going to spend the rest of my life in Hickville, playing your happy little housewife. I will not make a fool of myself and act like all is going well when it's not, Chris. You think about that, you think about what I'm saying." Then, she brushed past him, walked out back to her friends and put on her happy face.
Chris stayed in the bedroom for a while longer. He was thinking about what she said to him. And frankly, he was scared. Scared that they'd be kicked out of the house, scared that she'd leave him, or even worse, that they'd be forced to move up by her parents.
He had to find a solution, and he had to find one fast.
