#RomanticFridayWriters - Challenge No 40- GREENER PASTURES.

It's Friday!  Time for the RomanticFridayWriters challenge. This week all the participants are up for the Featured Writer award. For the FW award, the word count has been upped to 600, and there are particular guidelines set by the tricky Donna Hole:

This prompt is about long-term love; perhaps suffering a mid-life or 7 year itch crisis. The couple recognizes it is time for a change; but how drastic does the change need to be to rekindle the relationship?  Who wants the change; husband, wife, mutual?  Who would suffer the most from either a break up, or from the status quo?

For older lovers:  perhaps this is the retirement of one or both, or one is suffering a physical or mental health change.

For mid-life lovers:  perhaps this could be an empty nest syndrome, or a male mid-life crisis, or female menopause.

For younger lovers:  perhaps there is an unexpected pregnancy to upset the balance; or a career change –promotion or firing or company move; or the sheer boredom of routine.

What we want to see is when the romance loses it shine, and the eye wanders, but what our disgruntled lover finds so appealing in another is the qualities that the old flame has lost.  Does he/she realize this on their own?  Or does the jilted lover or new love point it out?  How is the situation resolved?  Or is it too late?

 I'm continuing my saga of Geffron and Marsilia. Since my first story, I've added the characters Luigunia and now James...I hope you enjoy my story. You might think it's a bit abrupt at times - this story wanted to be 1,000 words so I had to edit much of the life out of it...

Greener Pastures

Marsilia’s stomach clenched. She patted it gently.

Pregnant.

Ironic.

She and Geffron had been trying for three years. But for some time they both knew they were relying on a baby to save their marriage. Was it too late?

God! Why did they get married?

She’d come to London four years ago for her modelling career, not marriage.  But she’d believed in Geffron’s love – he’d followed her to Italy to win her back after his fling with Luiginia. How he’d charmed her Nonna and Madre. She’d gone along with the romantic idea of a medieval hill-town wedding, with the whole village celebrating. Craziest three days of her life.

Back to London. Once she wore Geffron’s ring he tried to smother her with his old-fashioned expectations.

Their marriage was over.

But what about the baby?

Out of bed my girl. Can’t lie here all day.

What will I do? The immediate answer was provided as she dashed to the bathroom, vomiting last night’s crackers. God! Was this being pregnant?

Washing her mouth, Marsilia stumbled to the fridge. Limp lettuce, Diet Coke and Geffron’s herring fillets. Stomach spasm.  

Ring!

‘Who is it?’ Marsilia snapped.

‘James. You’re late.’ Bollocks! She was to be at the blinking Canary Wharf.

‘It’s nine-thirty. Old Davey will have my head.’

‘I know. I know –‘.

‘Just get here sweetheart. I’ll cover with Davey. I’ll use Luigina. But hurry. I need shots of you together. The light’s perfect.’

‘Si, si.’

Dry crackers. Quick shower.

Acne skinny black jeans, Kain silk tank, Alexander McQueen black wool peplum, Jimmy Choo pumps, Row oversized sunglasses, Marni leather shoulder bag. Aha, Etro crystal-gold necklace in bag, just in case.     

In the tube, she lurched from one stinky underarm to the next, her stomach heaving.  When she reached Canary Wharf station she was feeling foul.

‘Buon giorno cara! Come va?’ Luigiana chirped as Marsilia rushed in.

The shoot was exhausting. Whose idea was it to use the financial heart of London as a location? She shrugged and strutted her stuff in front of the Canary Wharf Tower. Even though a weak sun was shining, she was shivering. The spacey short skirts and skimpy tops weren’t helping. Be easier doing covers for Parenting Today.

Luiginia cheered her. The pair of them giggled and wiggled in front of the skyscrapers. They were the Italian IT girls. I’ll no longer be an IT, Marsilia thought, I’ll be OUT.

Shoot over, Marsilia lingered.

‘Hey, Luiginia, wanna grab a bite?’

‘Sorry, got that night shoot at the Eye, remember?’

‘Crap. Well buon giorno.’

Marsilia was trudging towards the tube, when tyres screeched beside her.

‘Marsilia!’ James and his yellow Ferrari.

‘What’s up James? No chick to pick up?’

‘You’re the only chick I want. Food?…at…Amata.’

‘Amata?’

‘Yep, just googled it. New Italian place, Manchester Road?’

‘Whatever. I’m starving.’

‘What’s new? Hop in.’

‘Great idea,’ she said as she looped her gold necklace around her cheating neck.

 ***

Marsilia shoveled in forkfuls of delicious seafood pasta, smacking her lips in delight.

‘Amazes me how you stay stick thin. More?’

‘Can I?’

Sated, Marsilia sipped her very good Borolo. Only then did she catch the look in James’ eye. Whoops! ‘Do I have tomato smear on my face?’

‘Marsilia, you’re beautiful, outrageous and I’m way over my head. I’ve kept my hands off you till now, but I’m not sure I can any longer.’

 ‘I like Italian red wine, Jimmy Choos and American blues, how about you?’

‘I like fast cars, U2 and I love you.’

‘James, it’s too late.’

She imagined Geffron’s dinner – perfectly poached salmon, fine Pinot Blanc and wanted to scream.

 ©DeniseCovey2012

WORD COUNT - 600

FCA

Girl pics: modelmayhem.com

Want to join us? You can post your story or poem on your blog and link it directly below:





get the InLinkz code