Love and War: Short Story Collection

My New Year's Resolution - Valerie Michelle

My name is… not important. It’s her name you should know. Helena Martin, now Helena Masters, having recently hooked and married a wealthy playboy from California. This is a love story and she is my heroine, in more ways than one.

I have been addicted to Helena since the sixth grade when I saw her walking home from school in the rain and offered my mom’s umbrella with the zebra print and gold handle. She thanked me with one of those smiles that blurs the scenery around you until she is the only thing you can still see clearly. We talked about nothing and everything on the walk to her house, just the two of us left in a blurry, drizzled world.

We walked slowly, savoring each other’s company. It was the best hour of conversation in my life. I laid bare secrets that I had never told anyone, and she, in turn, showed me her soul. Such beauty has since been unparalleled.

Her long, nearly jet black hair clung to her face. I remember because when we went to say goodbye, I brushed the wet stands from sticking to her cheek and felt an electric shock from my fingertips to my toes. She gasped, parting her luscious lips, in recognition of the special spark between us.

We stood in the rain just staring at each other in silence for a few minutes, two kids with no clue how to handle the magnitude of lightning. I wanted to kiss her so badly, but we'd only just met. I may have been naive back then, but one thing was obvious to me. Helena deserved a slow kindled romance, not a rushed wet kiss.

I noticed her shivering in the chill of damp clothing and suggested she go inside. I remember she seemed struck by my thoughtfulness. Helena attempted to hand the umbrella handle closer to me, but I stopped her. I told her I'd get it from her tomorrow at school. I just wanted an excuse to talk to her again. She returned the sentiment with another of her signature smiles of gratitude.

Walking away up her drive and into her house, I thought she was… stunning. That is the best way to describe my heroine because she well and truly stunned me. I couldn't move off her street the rest of the afternoon, debating whether or not to go back for that kiss after all.

I never saw that umbrella again. That is how much Helena thought about me in sixth grade. We were so young then.

Still, she is the reason I’m here tonight, in the courtyard of the tiki bar in my hometown on New Year’s Eve. I’ve always thought it was an odd setting for the land-locked little stop sign of a town, but it remains the town’s only claim to fame. Well that, and the reason everyone else is here tonight.

Ten years ago our high school football team won a State Championship on New Year’s Eve night. We were underdogs whose victory inspired a newfound sense of community - or so the newspaper headlines read. Since our ten year reunion was coming up, every well-meaning member of our class student council decided to continue living in the shade of our past by hosting the reunion tonight, in memory of our former glory.

I never cared much for football, even back when the town exploded in victory. So, that infamous win certainly didn’t bring me back here. Nor do I care much for New Year's Eve.

I should also mention the only friend I had from that time in my life passed away two years ago in a drunk driving accident at one of the aforementioned stop signs. I don’t blame him for being drunk, of course. That’s what I’d expect from someone who never made it out of here. But with Peter gone now, it’s obvious I didn’t come back with the goal of reuniting with friends either.

I may as well be a ghost, visiting old haunts. So far, the only person who has noticed me tonight at all is the bartender. He keeps eyeing me as I sip my whiskey neat. Perhaps he’s wondering what kind of tip he may receive, or what kind of man nurses a whiskey. His opinion is of no consequence to me though. There is only one person whose opinion matters, and she has yet to arrive.

I down the last sip in one gulp, enjoying the burn in my throat. Then, I wave off the eager look in his eye as he approaches me again. I’ll have one drink tonight to calm the nerves. Only one though, as I need a steady hand later… for when I see her. I know she'll be beautiful, but I can't afford to be completely stunned tonight.

I throw a hundred dollar tip in my empty glass for the surprised bar keep, and move on to another empty high top table. I want to be far enough from the local band stage to keep my hearing, but close enough to the door that I don’t miss when she arrives. I don’t want to miss a second of this night. The last night of 2022.

I doubt she's changed much since the last time I ran into her, two years ago, before she got married. I was in town for Peter's funeral. Helena was home, helping her mother settle affairs after her own father's passing. As it turned out, the prominent business man was up to his neck in debt. Hence, her later betrothal to Mr. Millionaire. It is a marriage of necessity only.

She wasn't exactly friends with Peter in life, so I was surprised when she showed up at the wake. I was staring at the photograph his family had chosen to frame and display, lost in memories of video games and fireworks in the school’s parking lot after hours. I sensed her before I saw her, standing to my right. I smelled her perfume with a deep inhale, and it instantly soothed my pain.

"I'm sorry," she whispered quietly, continuing to blink into the direction of the photograph. Her tiny little hand reached out and laced our fingers together. We stood together for a lifetime, drawing strength from one another. The shuddering breath that rocked her shoulders before she withdrew her hand from mine signaled her reluctance.

I let her go that night. I was too dazed and depressed to think beyond my own grief. How selfish I was back then. I curse aloud at my own self loathing, but other than a few quizzical side-eye glances, I am still left alone.

I know how she feels about me. Tonight, I will finally show Helena the depths of my feelings for her.

Even far from the band, the music is blaring - breaking my nostalgic trip down memory lane. A poorly done rendition of classic rock is murdering more people than I did in the desert after graduation. I seem to be the only person who feels this way, though. There is a throng of people laughing and dancing. The sweaty gyrating and grinding of those desperate to hang onto their twenties disgusts me.

In the middle of it all, I shake my head at the man I would most expect to see as the center of attention. Miles Hayes, former quarterback and team captain of the Championship Wolverine team ten years ago, and now their newly appointed head offensive coach. A town celebrity if ever there was one. I wish I could say he has a beer belly or receding hairline, but no such luck.

His wife, the gorgeous bleach blond with her ass against his crotch, is the town’s most prominent realtor, taking over for her father a few years back. I'm sure they have a long rectangular wood sign by their front door that says 'welcome' in bold letters. She probably even owns a stem-less tumbler that says, "it's wine o'clock somewhere," or some such basic quip. They are perfect for each other.

When the commotion of the crowd reaches a crescendo, that’s how I know she has arrived. Helena’s mere presence demands acknowledgement rather than silence. I smooth down my navy, pin-stripe suit. A bit of an overdressed choice for tonight’s festivities, but I have to look good for her. Then, I turn towards the entrance.

Thinking that I could ever fully prepare for her beauty was ignorant. Helena, whose face history recalls launched a thousand ships, is gliding through the path of complimenting on-lookers and so-called friends. I can’t help but scoff. I doubt any of them have spoken twice to her since graduation. Sweet as she is though, Helena gives them each more of her time than they deserve.

Truth is, my Helena may not have launched any ships, but she can at least lay claim to launching a hundred or so male fantasies tonight, if the tents around this tiki bar are any indication. Neanderthals. None of them are good enough for Helena.

It’s notable that Mr. Millionaire isn’t here either. The man has everything and still takes his most prized possession for granted. When I saw their engagement announcement on social media, I pitied her. Not even his smile was genuine. True to my point that no man is worthy.

Especially not Miles Hayes. Not the man who stood side by side with her wearing a matching crown on prom night. The man that everyone here has been abuzz with gossip tonight. The man who is supposedly having an affair with my heroine. As if she would stoop that low again.

Miles’ wife, Trisha, catches on to the newcomer of the scene. Withdrawing her ass from her husband’s clutches, Trisha marches over to the real lady of the hour. I’m not sure what happened to the fairytale high school romance that was Helena and Miles, but I am sure it was not Miles' decision to end things. That much is clear by the simple comparison of seeing Helena and Trisha side by side. No man with a pulse would willingly make that decision.

Helena is wearing a timeless, solid blue dress which coincidentally compliments my navy suit to perfection. The dress has a high neck and low hemline, covering most of her creamy skin. Yet, there is a slit up one thigh, tempting my resolve to stay put about thirty or feet from her. Damn my addiction!

The dress hugs Helena’s curves like a suit of armor, her only metal weapons being a statement gold necklace and exquisitely expensive wedding bands. Still, she greets her rival with a disarming smile.

It does not work. Trisha, who is wearing a flashy, sequin bodycon dress that enhances her plastic accessories greets her adversary with a backhand across the face. Now the celebratory crowd does a wave… of silence.

“Stay the hell away from my husband!” Trisha shouts, spit flying from her lips as she makes her demand.

Trisha is swaying on her feet in a drunken rage. I am on my way to Helena’s rescue when I hear her perfectly calm response.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Trisha. Miles and I are just friends. We always have been. Long before he ever met you.” Helena pauses, then a playful smirk graces the right side of her face. “And we will be long after you’re gone, I’d imagine.”

Miles is on the scene before Trisha starts the biting and hair pulling that are so cliche of her kind. He apologizes to no one in particular and drags his wife from the bar. Now that’s the Miles that I remember, protecting only himself. The one so consumed with his reputation that he’d sell his soul for it. Of course, my heroine is a brand of drug no man can refuse. Like the rest of the crowd, I pity him for a moment and then pay him no mind.

Hurry up and wait. I am at her service once more, side by side, close enough to tuck Helena’s hair behind her ear with my fingertips. Yet, I give her a moment to recollect her composure and turn to me. Any moment now I expect her eyes to find mine. Instead, I see her shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath as she steps to the opposite side, away from me and towards the bar. I should allow her this reprieve before we meet again. This night will be as significant to her as it is to me.

For the next hour and a half, I stand aloof. I watch Helena make the rounds of our classmates, chit chatting and gushing over photos of children that mean little to anyone except the parents. Even without her crown, she is our queen.

The fates seem to grant my bleeding eardrums mercy and the band finally dies down. It must be close to midnight. I check my watch for confirmation. Yes, ten minutes to go. Excitement and dread pool in my stomach. Perhaps I should have had that second drink after all.

With the earlier abdication of our King, playing host to our night’s festivities fell to her. I watched her down a few glasses of red wine since the scorned lover scene played out, envying the glass that touched her lips with each sip. Yet, she remains as graceful on her feet as ever. Helena approaches the stage for a speech, and like a magnet, the crowd and I follow her pull.

“My fellow Wolverines… ten years ago tonight we surprised every town in the nation and won a State Championship.” Cheers erupt and she waits patiently for them to die down. “I like to think that we earned more than a trophy that night. I think we forged a bond, one that is obviously still in place with all the faces gathered here tonight. For better or worse we are connected through our shared experiences. I for one am thankful for you. For my part, I know we will share this bond until my dying day.”

The spectators are even divided between those nodding along to their favorite sermon and those wiping the corners of their leaky eyes. “But just like that game, the outcome is not predetermined. The future is still ours to make of it what we will. It is a lesson for us to wake up everyday, and every year, with renewed purpose.”

By God, she is beautiful. Sparkling in the stage lights, she outshines every star and even the expensive rock on her left hand.

“Now it’s time to ring in the next ten years!” Her animated voice rings out like a song, calling forth a choir to join her. The loyal flock follows her lead as the tiki bar, packed with old classmates and their guests, erupt into a countdown into the New Year.

“10…”

I move closer towards the stage, close enough to imagine I smell her perfume. Vanilla Lace is a fragrance they discontinued years ago, but I swear the scent reaches me nevertheless. It begins to placate the fury of my need.

“9…”

I call her name. The word tastes so sweet on my tongue. No hit of that drug could ever be enough. That’s why I must put an end to this addiction. Once and for all. Or else end myself, and inevitably countless others.

“8…”

She catches my eye at the sound, truly seeing me for the first time in years.

“7…”

She isn’t counting anymore. A flash of her gorgeous grin is granted to me one last time. Persuasive in its beauty, I still blink away its power, shunning the gift that I should be most grateful for.

“6…”

I hate myself. However, I cannot be stunned tonight. I am not disarmed by that smile. Helena’s happy face falters as she sees me reach inside my suit jacket.

“5…”

Confusion. A tilt of her head confirms her emotions as her gold rimmed irises slide from my face to the dark metal in my hand.

“4…”

There is a plea in her eyes as she realizes the mistake of discounting me all those years ago, and ever since. This is the first time her world has blurred, leaving only the two of us in focus. I have wanted nothing more than this since that meet-cute. If only it was under different circumstances.

“3…”

She is so vulnerable. Like the young girl in the rain. Just like the umbrella, I want to shield her from whatever seeks to harm her. My hand twists around the handle as I remember the hard truth. What seeks to harm her is herself. Helena’s too good for this world. She consumes men like me without realizing the danger in her very essence. She is not at fault. She is a victim of her own existence. She needs me. And I will answer her plea.

“2…”

I raise the gun, aiming at her chest. I have a very, very good aim.

“1…”

Helena falls to the ground. There will be no more years with her in them. Nor any last hits to quell my addiction.

As I said, this is a love story. An unrequited love story that does not have a happy ending. Helena is my heroine. I am the villain.

Author Pen Name: Valerie Michelle

Genre: Contemporary Dark Romance

Other Titles on Dreame:

The Luna’s Alliance (shifter love-triangle)

Cabin Affairs (erotic thriller)

FB page: Valerie Michelle’s Reading Group

Tik.Tok: @valeriemichelleauthor