Less Than Impeccable

Less Than Impeccable

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing31m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, Mar 11, 2020
Please feel free to leave constructive comments or questions. I am developing this story and these characters for a collection of short stories, or perhaps a novel. And hit the star if you enjoy a section. "Everybody believed me; they shouldn't have." Levi nervously pulled at the collar of his shirt and shifted in his chair as he spoke. Beads of sweat were dripping out from underneath midnight black hair and leaving tiny trails across his forehead. Wiping his damp palms on the tops of his legs, he sat straight up in his chair. The burgundy cushion moaned under the strain of his movement and the wooden legs creaked. Levi examined the room around him as he spoke. The office was smaller than he had remembered. He noticed two small bookshelves full of hymnals and Bibles situated under a tiny porthole window on one side of the room. On the opposite wall there was a bureau where a thickly stained coffee pot was brewing Folgers coffee. Across the room was a large mahogany desk situated under a stained glass window. The late-afternoon sun shone through and illuminated the image. The picture of Mary holding her son Jesus' dead, broken body at the foot of the cross brought a lump to Levi's throat and he quickly looked away. The heat from the day sat heavy in the small room. Levi wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt and blinked away the sweat stinging his eyes. "Everybody believed what?" Reverend Decker's low voice rumbled as he spoke. He stood up from his chair and crossed the room as the question hung in the air. Pouring another cup of coffee, he walked over to his desk and leaned on it, his long legs crossing in front of him. His black horn-rimmed glasses fogged as he blew across the top of his coffee mug. He looked at Levi and waited.
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An uptight and unforgiving single father tells a young reporter, the story of his second wife and himself. A story that is hidden behind a national fight against the war on drugs. Reliving moments that were just as painful as they were joyous, never rethinking his decisions but watching them rip him apart for a second time. He informs the reporter on moments that tell his version of the story. A story that his wife couldn't tell. Remembering his love for some and his irrational behavior towards others. attempting to teach lessons that he never learned himself. **************** "Vincenzo," she stood over me, "please. Please. Please." I nodded, I looked down at Constance, then I looked back at her. She looks like a bomb ready to detonate, it's over. I stood up and put Constance in his cot, he began to giggle at the sight of the mobile. His fist in his mouth admiring the hanging sea creatures, dolphins, whales, and turtles. I looked back at Evangeline, she was breathing heavily and losing all control. She plopped down on the bed, and I moved from the cot to look at her. Once my feet stood in front of her she took her ring off and threw it at me. It hit my chest. It fell right on my slipper. She was growing with hysteria. Her fingers running through her hair. I was frozen, she was heaving and she fell from the bed onto her knees. She crawled to the corner of the room, in between the wall and the dresser. Her red shirt rubbing against the green walls of the bedroom. Her shoulder grazed the beige dresser, making scratches on her arms and she didn't care. I looked down at the ring sitting on my foot, to my Evangeline. My mouth hung open but I couldn't say anything, the only noise in the room was the scraping of Evangeline's shoulder and the little giggles escaping the cot. My money was on my foot, but my heart split across the room." -Chp 15

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