It’s hard to be faithful. Isn’t variety the spice of life?
That’s what Jake had always thought – at least until he’d met his Angela.
When he first laid eyes on her, he knew he had to change his cheating ways. In the past, he’d wasted his time on bimbos, the kind of girls who were good for only one thing (although it was a very good thing!) and not much else. But his Angela was different.
Chaste, sweet, faithful. Angela was the kind of girl a man brought home to meet his mama.
Angela, Angela… an angel she was! An angel fate had sent his way. Resolving to be worthy of her, he decided to straighten up and fly right. Angela wasn’t the kind of girl to put up with a boyfriend’s wandering eye.
The problem was that Jake was a randy fellow who’d always had an eye for the girls. He knew the odds he was up against, but he was determined. So, when a pretty girl walked past him, he resolutely looked the other way. If a soft thigh brushed up against his during a subway ride, he’d swallow painfully and move aside. The enticing scent of female mingled with perfume would produce from Jake a string of muttered “Our Fathers,” the prayerful mantra which Father Benedetto had once assured the much younger Jake would douse teenage lust.
But Lord have mercy!
Did He have to create so many beautiful women?
Everywhere he went, they confronted Jake. Gorgeous women, dressed in tight skirts, their plump thighs beckoning. Women wearing soft sweaters that barely covered large, bouncing breasts. They haunted him, these wonderful women, issuing invitations he couldn’t accept. Yes, they were everywhere! In the park, in the office… in his dreams. The world was like a supermarket stocked with female delight – and he was unable to shop!
Not if he wanted to keep his Angela.
Desperation began to nibble away at his routine and so he decided to vary it. He’d leave the house earlier and earlier in an attempt to miss the pretty girls who gathered at the bus stop in the morning. He stopped waving to people on his street, afraid he’d be enticed by a nubile neighbor. He walked quickly, purposefully, to wherever he was going, fearful he’d give in to temptation if a blonde in an extremely short skirt asked for directions. Jake took to looking down at the pavement wherever he went, ignoring everyone and everything around him.
That’s how he ended up in the hospital, legs in traction, several ribs fractured. He never saw the car heading his way, so busy was he looking down instead of up.
Fortunately, the nurse who tended him had the face and the figure of a marine. There’d be no fervid flirtations over nightly sponge baths. He sighed, relieved. He could still be faithful to his Angela.
He looked over at her, sitting by his bed, reading a magazine. His Angela.
“Mr. Barone? I’m Dr. Bainbridge, the orthopedic surgeon,” said the tall, handsome doctor, entering the room. He extended his hand to Jake.
Angela dropped the magazine and stood up quickly. Intercepting the doc’s hand, she shook it and smiled brightly. “Hello, doctor,” she said, her eyes sparkling, “I’m Angela.”
All those months, trying to be good. Jake really had been too busy looking down. He was looking up now. Just in time to see the car that was about to hit him.
© 2015 All Rights Reserved Kate Loveton and Odyssey of a Novice Writer
* * * * * * *
Author’s Note: This story is written in response to Linda G Hill’s ‘Stream of Consciousness Saturday’ challenge. Linda’s challenge was to let your imagination fly, using one or both of the words ‘very’ or ‘vary.’ I had no idea what I was going to write about when I tried this exercise, but this is what I came up with. I hope you enjoy it. Linda’s challenge can be found here.