Word Prompts: Purse, nurse, curse
Choose one word and write what your imagination dictates. For an added challenge, include all three words in your entry.
Something True
Curse
Last Winter
Mr. Biers seemed to move in slow motion as he helped Bella out of her coat, his fingertips brushing the base of her neck.
She swallowed and cleared her throat.
"You have all the essays by now, don't you?" She turned to face him, resting a hand on his desk.
"I do."
"Let me read Tanya's."
Mr. Biers laughed. Bella watched the way he threw his head back and chuckled up to the ceiling. The way his smile was so wide and his eyes slits, almost closed. She saw the stubble under his chin along his throat.
"That would be cheating." His grin was still there as he spoke. "I'm supposed to be teaching you not to cheat."
"It's not really cheating. My paper's already done and turned in. But I'll know if I read hers if I even have a chance for first place."
"Aside from the fact that you know I can't do that, her essay isn't here. It's in a file at my house. I hand them in to the department on Monday."
Bella tried to come up with a way for him to invite her to his house, but she couldn't think of anything aside from: Let's go there. Show me your file of essays.
She said nothing, taking her regular seat, waiting for him to give her a job to do.
"Midterms coming up," he said. "Things are going to get busy for us in a couple of weeks. But I don't have anything for you right now. You can have the day off." He turned a desk around to face Bella and sat back in it. There went his tie, and then the top two buttons of his shirt. Bella tried not to look at the triangle of chest she could see.
"How are things with your mom and dad?" he asked.
"Better," Bella said, and she meant it. For the first time since she was nine years old she felt like she had her mom back.
Mr. Biers took her hand and squeezed the backs of her fingers. He had done that before, and last time she'd left her hand limp. This time she squeezed his fingers back and held his hand there on the desk. His hand was warm and a little sweaty.
They held eye contact. The edge of his smile quirked up.
A chill ran through her and her heart sped as she remembered him helping her out of her coat when she first arrived, fingers wisping her neck.
With one more squeeze, he let go of her hand and she shivered.
"You let me know if there's ever anything I can do."
Take me to your house, she wanted to say. She just wanted to be alone with him again for a little while, not at school.
"Are you going to your ex-wife's wedding?" she asked, moving her own hands palm to palm, surprised she could get her voice to work.
"Haven't decided one way or the other yet. It would be good to keep things amicable, I suppose, if that's what she's after. But at the same time, sitting there, witnessing her repeat vows she made to me—whew." He let out a breath, looked down at the desk, and raised his eyebrows. "Not sure I can handle that."
With no rain, and no excuse for Mr. Biers to drive her home, he simply walked her to the door when it was time to go.
"Just a second there," he said, moving to his desk, scribbling something on the corner of a sheet of paper, tearing it off.
He put it in Bella's hand.
"I realize this may seem inappropriate, and if you're uncomfortable in any way, throw it out, but just in case you ever need anything." He put the piece of paper in Bella's hand. "Call."
It was his phone number. She walked home with it tight in her fist. Stopping at her fallen tree, she entered the number into her phone under Riley.
What did this mean? she wondered. Did he really mean for her to call only if she needed something, or did he want her to call him? She could tell by the way his voice got quiet with concern, and the expressions on his face—folded brows, or slight smiles—that he cared about her. But what was she really meant to do with his phone number?
She sat on her log feeling a warmth run through her blood as she thought about him, pictured his face, his blue eyes and the neckties that matched, the stubble along his jaw he could never seem to get a close enough shave to make disappear. She closed her eyes, letting the images heat her from the inside out. Brisk wind or not, she could have removed her coat and still felt as if she were wrapped in a thick blanket.
...
Bella had pillows, cushions, and blankets laid out all over her bedroom floor for sleepover night. All five girls were gathered on Bella's bed, different conversations going on among them until something Alice said gained everyone's attention.
"Did you hear, Bella? You're having some sordid affair with Mr. Biers." Alice laughed.
"Who said that?" Lauren asked.
"You know, one of those jealous ass bitches. Heidi or fucking Jane. Don't you worry." She patted Bella's head. "I set them straight."
"How?" Bella asked.
"I said, who in their right mind wouldn't? That man is hot!"
Bella shook her head at her.
"What? They agreed with me, I'll have you know. And it's true. I mean, have you seen the way he twists his tie back and forth when he's giving a lecture?" She fanned her face and fell to her back horizontally across the bed. She sat up just as fast taking Bella's hand. "You should have seen the jealousy dripping from those girls that day of the blind faith project when Mr. Biers was your partner. I bet they're still talking about it."
Bella was the last to fall asleep that night. She never liked being the last to fall asleep. It always seemed to make sleeping that much harder. Beside her, Rose was breathing deep. On the floor, Jessica was snoring, no doubt exhausted after sneaking out to meet Mike.
It was not yet March and the night sky was clear enough to see stars. She started counting them, hoping it would help her sleep, but she could only spot twelve. She began to connect them, making constellations of her own.
With her finger in the air as she drew a new shape, she spotted a shooting star.
"Rose, Rose." She poked Rose's shoulder.
"Hmm?"
"A shooting star. Look." But of course it was gone by then.
"Make a wish," Rose said with her lazy voice, not even opening an eye.
...
In the morning her mom made the girls chocolate chip pancakes with whip cream for breakfast. She told them stories of her own sleepovers and how she used to sneak out and smoke with her friends.
"Bad habit," she said, warning the girls, pointing her spatula at each one of them. "Hard to quit and then your voice gets as rubbery as your skin. Not only will you smell like a chimney, you'll look and sound like one, too."
"You'll become a chimney," Alice said. "Awesome." She hopped on the counter, toyed with a pair of sunglasses, and put them on.
"Not awesome." Bella's mom said, taking her glasses off Alice, folding them, and placing them back on the counter.
"Mommy Swan," Jessica said, batting her eyelashes. "If we promise not to smoke, can we have ice cream with breakfast?"
"Teenage girls are crazy," she said, but still, she got the box of Rocky Road out and handed Jessica the ice cream scoop.
After the girls left, Bella went back to bed and slept the day away. After hardly a wink of sleep the night before, she needed the shuteye. She only got up because she had to get ready for dinner with her mom. The sun was setting by the time she turned on the shower, and it was below the horizon by the time she pulled her dress overhead and her tights up her legs.
Coat on, purse over her shoulder, she went to her mom's room to tell her she was ready to go. The door was ajar, and she heard her mom's voice on the other side, though she knew her dad wasn't home. She pushed the door open a little more and could see her mom's reflection through the dresser mirror.
"...some friends spent the night," she was saying. "No, I can't tonight. I promised Bella I'd take her to dinner. She just started letting me do this stuff with her. She's maturing. I'm not cancelling. Not tomorrow, either. I told you, Charlie's home tomorrow."
Bella held her breath. It wasn't her dad, but maybe it was a girlfriend. Maybe it was Mrs. Brandon.
"I want to see you, too. You know that. But the timing has to be right."
If a person could swallow her heart, Bella just had. She pushed the door open all the way and stepped into the room, her arms folded across her chest.
"Mom," she said, and her mother's head snapped to her.
"It's-" She pointed at her phone. "It's-."
"Client Phil?" Bella raised her eyebrows.
The answer was all over her mother's crumpled face. Tears. Fake tears, Bella was sure.
Leaving her mother standing between her dresser and her bed, engulfed in her own guilt, Bella slammed down the stairs and out of the house.
She didn't call him first. She walked the six blocks to his house, wrapping the leather strap of her purse around and around her wrist where her coat ended. When it dug into her flesh, she continued wrapping it. It wasn't that she couldn't feel the pain, she could. It was that she wanted to feel it. It distracted her from the pain that was on the inside—the kind that can't be relieved by unwrapping a purse strap from your wrist and rubbing your skin.
...
"Bella?" Mr. Biers said when he answered his door, as if he had to confirm she was there.
"I was so stupid. She's still having an affair."
He pulled her inside. When he took her jacket off, she shivered. He hung it on his rack, along with her purse.
"My d-dad," she said, choking up into small sobs, shaking her head over and over as if there was enough power in that denial to change everything that was wrong with the world. "My poor dad." She covered her face.
Mr. Biers didn't take her hand, didn't squeeze her shoulder. He took her into his arms and held her head against his chest. "I'm sorry," he said. "I know this is difficult."
"I hate her."
"That's okay."
"It is?" She looked up at him, her sobs subsiding.
He pushed hair from her face, pulled some strands away from her lips. "It is. Because you don't hate her. You just hate what she's doing."
"You're wrong. I hate her." Tears fell again and she wiped them.
"Fuck, okay. You're right. I shouldn't try to placate you. Shit, I shouldn't curse in front of you either."
"I've heard curse words before," she said.
He took Bella to his sofa and had her sit down. He offered her a drink of water and when she declined, he insisted.
On his way back he stopped to turn on the heat. "Sorry, trying to save on electricity." She noticed he was wearing a sweatshirt and jeans. She'd never seen him so casual.
"Drink," he said, handing her the icy glass, condensation wetting her fingers. She took a long gulp. She shivered again.
He sat down beside her. "Maybe I should've offered you tea. Except my not having any could pose a problem there."
Bella let out a small laugh and he smiled. He took her glass and set it on the floor between a pile of papers and a thick book.
"Thank you."
They looked at each other like he wasn't a teacher and she wasn't a student. It was something Bella knew they'd been doing for months, but she always ended up looking away. She didn't this time. And neither did he.
"I'm glad you came." He brushed her cheek with the back of a finger and her eyes fell closed.
"Why does she do this to people she's supposed to love?" Opening her eyes, they locked with his.
"I don't know if there's an answer to that question. She may not be able to answer it. The human soul is an abyss." Turned to face her, with his elbow up on the back of the sofa, his thumb caressed her temple. "It's impossible to understand the entirety of someone's nature."
His face was inches away. With her hands flat on the sofa, her shoulders turned toward his, she leaned in closer to him. Closer.
He didn't pull back.
She leaned so close that their lips touched. Her eyes closed.
He didn't pull back.
She pressed her lips against his and felt his pressing back, his lips moving against hers, his mouth opening. She gave in to it and so did he, and they were kissing.
Her hands were clutching the sofa. As their kiss continued, he picked up one of her hands holding her fingers lightly. She could have pulled away if she wanted to. She could have walked out the door and gone home. She didn't want to.
His other hand was on her knee, moving up her thigh, pushing at the hem of her dress, his lips sliding down to her neck.
She lifted her head and took a deep breath in as he kissed along her throat. She was warm all over again. Even with the chills racing up and down her arms, she was hot. She couldn't remember what it was like to be cold. She felt love inside her and she felt it more with every press of his lips against her. She didn't want that feeling to go away.
His stubble scraped against her skin and it didn't bother her. She wanted it.
"Bella." His lips left her, his touch left her, he sat back. Her eyes opened.
"What?" Now that she knew what it felt like to be in his arms. She wanted him to hug her again. She couldn't ask him for it though. She'd have to wait until he did it on his own.
"If we do this, nobody can know. I could lose my job, and you could... you have your reputation to consider. You have to think about this. We have to think about what we're doing here."
"I don't want to leave."
"That's not what I want." He shook his head. "I'm telling you to think about this. Here we are two people who obviously care for each other." He put his hand on her cheek. "But to anyone else, we are merely teacher and student. Getting involved with me necessitates complete secrecy. You're mature enough to understand the reasons. But you have to be mature enough to accept this or we really shouldn't continue."
She put her hand on top of his on her cheek. "I'm not going to tell anyone."
A/N: Please don't kill me. You had to have seen this coming in some shape or form, even if you hoped you were wrong. Yes?
Mr. Biers quoted poet Fernando Pessoa
Thank you for reading. Are you still with me? If not, thank you for taking this journey this far.