Not Good Enough

By Jo Ann Andre

Liz's life seemed perfect.in her work and as as a single mom. She's engaged to a wealthy high profile man. But something was missing. An old flame reappeared awakening frozen passions,causing her confusion. Tragedy struck, challenging her relationships and who she was at her core. Will she break thru her own walls? Liz's story of awakening challenges all of us to discover that we are Good Enough!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jo Ann Andre
• Release date: Nov 29, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452418261

Jo Ann Andre

Even though I have had the opportunity to live in many places, including France and the Philippine Islands, I have Midwest roots. This I'm sure influences my writing. I've written since I was a child. Even in elementary school, my teacher had me going to the different classrooms to read my stories. My College professor wrote my parents and told them I should consider writing as a profession. Yet I never really believed I had something to say that the public would want to read, so I've just written for me. Now I'm being courageous and exposing my so called "under-belly" and sharing with you my stories. I hope you find them endearing, inspiring and entertaining.My background is in motherhood, friend, daughter and businesswoman. All these aspects of me also make their marks in my writing. In addition I struggled to become educated. I have several degrees in psychology,economics and education for secondary literature. Currently I am studying a multi-discipline degree in gender studies, mass communications and literature.

Book preview

CHAPTER 2

Liz pulls into her driveway, hits the garage door opener to park her car. As she walks into her kitchen, she thinks her trepidation of tonight out loud, Maybe Harlan will have to work late at his law office, and I won’t have to face the dreaded proposal everyone is so confident about. The sharp shrill of the phone surprises her. Answering hoping that ii’s him canceling, Liz smiles. Hi Harlan, so do you have to work late at the office?

Happy Birthday, Liz.

Liz freezes. She hears his warm voice, which is a gentle voice that wraps her heart like her favorite childhood quilt. She sees his tall, lanky body and Terry Thomas smile. Her mind jolts. This man left me.

Liz, Liz, are you there?

Jared?

Liz, how are you? I’m in town tonight and I know this is short notice, but I would like to see you.

Jared, oh my god, oh my god. What, what are you doing? Why are you calling me? Jared fifteen years is a long time. Where is your wife? Jared...

Liz, shhhh, I'll tell you everything. Will you meet me?

You left me and you got married and you just reappear after fifteen years. I don't think so! How did you find me?

Liz, I got your letter. Please meet me at our favorite Blues joint in two hours.

You got my letter, how could you? I mean, I mean, you can't expect me just to go meet you after what you did and all this time later...

Liz it’s important, really important, I've got to go, meet me there. I really want to see you. Please meet me in two hours at our favorite Blues Club. Sorry I’ve got to go !

"Jared…

I’m so sorry I really have to go. Please meet there. Goodbye luv.

Jared, JARED! Liz stands staring at the phone. Quickly she pushes the key to redial the number that just called. The phone just rings and rings. She checks her caller ID and it is blank.

The phone shrills again.

Jared, thank goodness you called back!

Liz, this is Harlan.

Oh Harlan... I...I...

Who is Jared?

Jared...ummm Jared...Just an old friend. Harlan I think I should meet...

Liz I have a surprise for you. I am in my car coming back from Jefferson City. I'll be there in forty-five minutes. Love you! Bye.

Harlan! Harlan!

Quickly Liz dials Harlan's cell phone number. Come on, come on answer.

Hello

Harlan, I need to…

…this is Harlan I am not available, but if you leave your name and number I will call you as soon as I can.

Damn, what am I going to do now, thinks Liz.

Liz dials Jen. Oh, Jennifer, thank goodness you are home. Listen, Jared just called me and wants me to meet him. And Harlan just called and he is on his way. I tried to tell him I needed to meet him later, but he hung up before I could. And I feel I need to meet Jared...

Whoa, Liz...I’ve never heard you like this and you called me ‘Jennifer.’ What is going on? And Jared, THE Jared?

Jared, gads, just this morning I had this most unnerving dream about him and then he calls...oh, what I am going do Jen?

Of course, Liz, don't be so silly, Liz chides herself, Harlan is going to be here soon. I have got to go out with him. Bye Jen.

Liz wait a minute... Jen cries out.

Oh, Jen, I’m so sorry I'll explain later. I have to go.

Okay, okay, have a great evening, but you owe me a long lunch conversation, proclaims a puzzled and concerned Jen.

Liz decides to take Tucker for a walk. She calls to him and grabs her coat and his leash. She’s hoping a walk in the crisp evening air would help clear her head. Tucker is excited and Liz notes that at times she wishes her life was as simple as Tucker’s. Tucker pulls at his leash smelling all of the scents of the furry creatures that has crossed his path. She soon becomes oblivious to him as she becomes deep in thought about Jared. Finally the brisk cold air penetrates her, Shivering she returns to get ready for her evening with Harlan.

Dressed and satisfied with her appearance, Liz goes downstairs to her kitchen where she sits looking out at the night. Once again her thoughts drift to Jared. The sound of the doorbell startles her out of her reverie. She walks over to the door and peeks out to see Harlan’s picture perfect teeth smiling through the peephole. Pulling herself together and bringing up a smile, she opens the door. Harlan, Liz offers her cheek for the customary kiss. So where are we off to tonight?

You are looking radiant, as usual. A new dress? Harlan compliments. Actually I have planned a special evening tonight. First we’re going to the theater and then to dinner at La Belle’s. It’ll be a night to remember, boasts Harlan as he bends to nuzzle her neck. Here, you might want to put these in water.

Oh, thank you… beautiful red roses. Liz comments perfunctorily. Thinking to herself, He doesn’t consult with me where I would like to go, and the flowers are nothing like the extraordinarily beautiful exotic flowers her fellow workers gave her. Liz begins to run her fingers through her hair, a childhood habit of soothing herself, and chides herself: Stop it, doesn’t every red blooded American woman want to be romanced with red roses?

Harlan helps Liz into her leather coat and they walk to his sleek black Ferrari. He opens the door and Liz slips into the grey leather seats. The tires crunch on the ice packed street. Snow dresses the trees and the headlights dance off the ice crystals. Mesmerized, Liz drifts into that secure place inside her, where she’s frozen in time..

Harlan puts in Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. The music fills the car and mixes with the smell of his expensive cologne. His hands are covered by the finest of leather and his clothes are tailored perfectly. He’s well aware of how he’s the picture of the successful, refined American man. As a founding partner in one of Kansas City’s largest law firm, he knows he’s a catch. Each is absorbed in their own thoughts, as the two drive in silence.

CHAPTER 3

As you can see ladies and gentlemen, the need to evaluate the government’s policy to subsidize victims who live in the flood planes and other natural disaster zones is important. Supporting these victims with government subsidies and disaster relief funds encourages them to continue to live in these areas and creates unnecessary costs to the taxpayers. I leave you with this one thought; if we address this problem today we could reduce Federal spending by several hundred million dollars a year. Good night.

Jared walks among the throngs of suits and academic rhetoric, smiling and shaking hands. He does not hear half of what’s being said to him, but he knows all the right phrases to throw out. He looks at his watch and makes his excuses. He leaves the well-rehearsed crowd and goes upstairs to his hotel suite.

He removes his suit jacket and loosens his tie. He sees the message light blinking. He figures it’s his wife and decides he just didn’t want to listen to her complaints. So he fixes himself a scotch and turns the shower on to heat up.

Looking into the quickly fogging mirror he sees an older more mature man than the college lover. He has some tale-tell circles starting to form under his eyes, but not bad. Being a long distance runner has kept his body long, lean and muscular.

The shrill of the phone startles Jared. He walks over to the bed stand and picks up the phone. Oh, hello Allyson. Are the girls okay? he asks overly politely.

Yes, Lacey is out at the gym working out. She has a meet Tuesday. You are returning for this, right? Felicity is having trouble with her teacher. Jared, you are just going to have to do something about this. I worry about her. I have to go to New York. I’m leaving the girls with the nanny, Allyson went on.

So how long this time? I’ll be there for Lacey’s tournament. Felicity is shy. I’ll talk to the teacher, answers Jared mechanically.

I‘ve got an emergency meeting. This bank merger is getting more complicated, Allyson continues.

Allyson, I hate to cut this short, but I promised some colleagues I’d meet with them and I’m already late. Kiss the girls for me. See you when you get back from New York. Jared hangs up the phone. He couldn’t figure out what was missing. Allyson was an intelligent and a successful economist like himself. They have two beautiful girls, a house in upscale Maryland, outside of DC, and a good financial portfolio. What is wrong with this picture? This is what he was raised to believe would make him happy.

Shaking free of these thoughts, Jared steps into the shower. Thirty minutes later he goes outside and has the concierge wave down a taxi for him. He gives the small foreign driver orders to take him to the Grand Emporium.

Sitting back in the taxi, Jared gazes out at the vast Kansas City night sky. Unlike D.C., you can see stars sprinkling the black canvas. He muses about how many nights he had walked the Plaza or rode in the local horse drawn carriage with Liz. They’d talk about the boys in Viet Nam. She’d get all worried that Jared would be drafted. Jared remembered kissing her crinkled forehead and telling her that he’d move to Canada before he’d go to Viet Nam. Those days of free love, environmental catastrophes, race riots, and confusion about the righteousness of the war, would keep Liz and Jared talking for hours.

That will be $10.80, snaps the harried driver.

Oh, okay, here you go. Keep the change, proffers Jared, handing him a twenty dollar bill.

Untangling his long lanky legs, Jared pulls himself out of the low riding taxi, wishing he had his comfortable SUV. He spots the Blues club and nostalgia sweeps over him and with a smile he walks into the old and the familiar to find a table in the dark recesses of the tavern. There he finds a table that gave him a view of the door and orders a drink.

Jared takes another drink of his scotch, and with a twitch of his wrist swirls the remainder. He watches the amber liquid cascade over the melting rocks of ice. Restlessly he gazes at his watch not seeing the time. The smell of warm bodies, crammed in the dimly lit hole of KC’s finest house of blues and jazz, mixes with the music of the soul, filtering the room, hanging in the air, with the ghosts of past smoked cigarettes.

Jared’s long tapered fingers drum the table. His eyes once again sweep the room seeking out Liz, his sweet Liz, whose mind is sharp, whose wit and laughter are earthy and pure, whose translucent skin radiates her beautiful heart, whose eyes are the mirror of the deepest blue sky. It’s been fifteen years since that blizzard of `78 in Chicago. He remembers it so vividly. Liz was up in Duluth working, while he was working on his doctorate in Chicago. So many times Liz had wanted to move there with him, but he was stubborn. He felt the lure of her would distract him from his path. His father had made clear to him that he had to focus. There was woman in his class. The two of them were working on a project together. After many late hours of work he found himself often having breakfast and coffee with her at an all night diner. They’d talk theories and go over assignments. How he ended up in bed with her, he didn’t know, but he did. He’d convinced himself that she would be the right person for his life and career.

Because his heart still belonged to Liz he couldn’t face her. So he called her. He told himself that this would be easier for her as well. This was his excuse for not telling her in person. In reality though, it made it easy for him.

Later that night he nestled in the bed with Allyson, his soon to be wife, having sex with her all night. He worked hard to convince himself that he loved Allyson. She was smart, came from a good Ivy League family, and his parents approved of her. Liz was passion. Allyson was stability.

The band segues into a John Coltrane tune, bringing him back to the present. Jared sits back and allows himself to merge with the music. He sees Liz standing in the living room of his Chicago apartment. A single candle on his coffee table illuminated her as she swayed, eyes closed, to the gentle jazz notes of John Coltrane’s sax wafting from the stereo. He crossed over to her and gently kissed the nape of her neck and ran his fingertip from her throat, slowly over the hard nipple crowning her perfect breast. Bending, he softly kissed her, barely touching her parted lips, he trailed his lips down the path of his fingertip following it across her swaying belly. And then slowly, ever so slowly, he moves lower…

Do you want another scotch, this is the last call?

A startled Jared brings him back as he looks up to see an impatient waitress.

No uhmm. no thank you.

Jared pulls himself up picks up the colorful package and bouquet of exotic flowers. Thrusting them at the startled waitress he says, Happy Birthday!

Wait, it’s not my birthday! What are you doing? Hey mister…. yells the confused waitress at the back of Jared walking out the door.

Once out in the cold crisp air, he looks up and sees the slivered winter moon in the kaleidoscope of lights. How many times in his travels he had looked up into those nightlights and wondered if Liz was looking at the same sky, remembering the passionate nights shared together.

Warmed by this thought he is oblivious to everything around him. Surprised by a tug at his sleeve, he looks down and sees a woman shriveled with age staring up at him. Her matted gray hair is covered by a woolen cap with spirally tufts of twisted hair poking through the numerous holes. Her gnarled fingers protrude through the ends of worn out mittens. An overlarge coat droops over her narrow shoulders. As the coat progresses down her body it grows tighter covering all the clothes she owns. A stench of the sewer emanates from her body.

The woman growls something at him. Jared reaches into his pocket and pulls out money and gives it to her. She scampers away into the shadows of the night. He wishes he could do more. He thinks it is sad that despite the sophisticated society they live in, that this person has to live out here in the cold.

He raises his hand and waves down a taxi. Climbing into the back, he quietly tells the cabbie to take him to the Marriott on the Country Club Plaza. He sits back and rests his tired head.

What makes you think Liz wants to see you? You broke her heart. Jared chastises himself. Liz loved you and you left her.

Soon Jared arrives at the hotel. Pausing at the piano bar he decides he had enough to drink and goes up to his room. Again the message light is blinking. Ignoring it, he sits down at the end of his bed. He looks at his watch to see it’s after one in the morning.

Well, your birthday is over Liz. I hope it was a good one, whispers Jared. The room is still and empty like every other hotel room he had to stay in all these years. Empty like his heart has been all these years. Oh, hell I’m calling her. Jared reaches for the phone and decides he better have another scotch first. He walks over to the bar and pours himself half of a glass. After a few slugs, he walks back over, picks up the phone and dials quickly, before he can change his mind.

Come on, answer Liz, Jared mumbles desperately. Then he hears the familiar sound of the opened line: Liz, it’s Jared, I know it’s late, but I needed to talk to you, please don’t hang up.

Jared, what time is it? You got to be kidding me, it’s after one. I’ve got to sleep; I have a client coming to the office early in the morning…Call me another time…

No, Liz, please hear me out. I just want to tell you, it wasn’t you, it was me. If I had the decision to make today, I would not make the decision I made in ’78,

Hearing the buzz of the silent line, Jared spouts out: Liz, Liz are you there…come on Liz are you there.

Damn Jared, the least you could do is come up with a better line than that worn out one after all these years, replies a caustic Liz

You’re not going to make this easy are you? Jared laughs nervously. Just I don’t know, I just wanted you to know it was not you, it was me, and I was young. Not that this is a good excuse, but I was young. I got your letter. It was so kind. Jared’s voice still had a warm and sonorous timbre that had always touched Liz’s heart.

What do you mean you got my letter? I sent that a year ago to your address at the University you attended graduate school over fifteen years ago. How could you have received it? asks a baffled Liz.

I received it a couple of months ago in Victoria, Canada, where I teach in the summers. I was so surprised and happy to get it. Liz, I must say, there ‘s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of you.

Liz feels herself softening and struggles to maintain her firm stance. That’s unbelievable. Letters can’t find their recipient across the city, much less, someone living in a totally different country. And Jared, I heard you married some one in your class. Are you still married? Do you have kids? Ending this barrage of questions she whispers almost inaudibly: And what do you mean there is not a day that goes by that you don’t think of me?

Relieved in the change he hears, Jared relaxes and answers in a slightly amused tone: Well somehow it found me and yes, I/m still married and I have two beautiful daughters. Just that, there’s not a day I don’t think of you,

Are you happy?

Oh I guess, as happy as one can be in a marriage after fifteen years, I don’t know that marriage is meant to be happy. My daughters are wonderful. And you, are you married and do you have children? questions Jared.

No, I’m divorced, and I have a son. So why are you calling me? It’s good to hear your voice, but why are you calling me? quizzes a baffled and skeptical Liz.

I just wanted to see you and tell you…. Jared pauses, I must return to D.C. tomorrow. Liz, would it be okay if I called you once in awhile? I can’t give you a phone number, but I would like to call you."

I don’t understand. What do you mean? stumbles Liz.

Listen go back to sleep and I’ll call you soon. Goodnight and Happy Birthday.

Wait, Jared, Jared! Liz speaks into the buzz of the dead phone.

Jared takes another drink of his scotch. He dresses for bed and chuckles. Here he is in pajamas, even flannel pajamas, remembering when he crawled into bed, with just his skin, nestling next to the softness of Liz’s warmth. He becomes aroused just thinking about it. Sighing he reaches over to set the alarm and turns off the light. Soon Jared falls asleep drugged by the liquor and thoughts of Liz.

CHAPTER 4

Liz is awake now. She sits up in her bed and switches on the light. In her fumbling for the lamp she brushes up against the ring box and groans.

Oh geez! What a birthday, she says to an empty room. Then she reviews the evening events.

It had started out well with an entertaining theater production. For dinner she and Harlan arrived at La Belle’s, where the food was exquisite with wine that complimented the palate.

While sipping on wine waiting for dinner to be served the two had entered into a comfortable conversation about the latest politics, friends and community affairs which lasted throughout the meal. After dessert Harlan became solemn. He had leaned across the table and looked at Liz with his gray eyes smiling and quietly said, Liz, I want to give you my birthday present to you. Please open it.

Liz could already tell it was a ring box and she was hoping beyond hope that it was not an engagement ring. Thoughts were flying through her head. Why of all days on my birthday? It is almost like I should consider him a gift, she had thought to herself.

Impatient Harlan encouraged Liz to open it.

As she always did she slowly undid the ribbon and then carefully removed the tape. As she had expected it was a box for a ring. She kept her eyes averted; she could not bear to look at Harlan. Lifting the lid, hearing the creak of the hinges, she saw the large amethyst surrounded by ice fire blue diamonds, mounted boldly on a white-gold band. It was exotic, beautiful and it took her breath away.

Oh, Harlan, I don’t know what to say, Liz spoke with awe.

I had this made just for you Liz, you are very special to me. I’d be honored if you would be my wife.

Harlan made no move to touch her.

A long silence ensued Liz’s emotions were erupting. She still was groping with what to say. She had interpreted his lack of touching her as being the cold businessman he was.

Harlan broke the silence: Liz?

Glancing up she’d seen his dark look. The look of a person who was used to people responding to him and giving him what he wanted. He’d seemed puzzled that Liz was so hesitant. His body language shifted into a familiar stance as if preparing for a verbal chess game. This was the Harlan she saw engaged in the legal battles.

Liz knew that this was Harlan the lawyer, not Harlan the lover. Her mind whirled over thoughts of why he was asking for her hand as a lover or an arm piece. When she heard his agitated body movements, she knew she had to say something. She’d known then that it would be a mistake to accept his proposal. So why did the following words come out of her mouth?

Harlan, the ring is beautiful. I’d like to say yes, but this is something we haven’t even discussed. I need time to think about it.

A logical man, Harlan relaxed. With a confident voice he told her to take the ring and that she didn’t have to wear it as an engagement ring, until she was ready

Liz had taken out the ring and placed it on her right hand. She had smiled at Harlan and meekly said: Thank you.

Harlan, self satisfied, had looked at his watch and then indicated that it was time to go. As the two rode back in the luxurious car, Liz slipped back into the cold place inside her, where her emotions were frozen and it felt safe. Drawing near her home, she roused herself and wondered if passion was even important. Passion hadn’t worked before; perhaps this business like relationship was what worked.

Harlan had stepped out and opened the door for her. He took her up to the porch and kissed her lightly. Laying his chin atop of her head he told Liz, that he really wanted to come in, but he had a big case to prepare for in the morning, and he didn’t want to be up all night. He’d hoped she would understand. He went on to explain that as soon as this case was over he’d make it up to her. Harlan then reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a long slender envelope and handed it to Liz. Inside were flight tickets to France, a trip she’d wanted to go on for a very long time. When Liz finally broke out into a smile, Harlan seemed to expand like a peacock and with pride said:

I booked us a flight for the first of May for four weeks. I want to spend time with you. What do you say?

Oh Harlan, I don’t know, my work, and Brad …, protested a confused yet happy Liz.

Harlan with his usual command of things told Liz not to worry. With a hint of regret in his voice he says, Now I have got to go. Good night and Happy Birthday. Harlan placed a light kiss on her forehead, as if he was soothing a little girl.

Liz had stared at Harlan’s back as he turned and got in his car and drove away. Whilst mumbling:

Harlan, Jared, Harlan, Jared. OOOOOOH Men!

Once inside Liz had built a fire and got a glass of wine. Curled up on the couch sipping wine, her mind whirled.

How could I accept this ring and the trip to France? I am not sure about Harlan. He is too ‘gray’. Well Harlan did say I could think about the ring. The trip, well I’ve always wanted to go to France and Harlan said he’d work out the kinks with me. I could rearrange my schedule at work and Jen could handle the office for a few weeks, Liz had reasoned with herself.

Liz poured another glass of wine and instead of sipping she drank it, allowing the alcohol to numb her mind. Finishing the glass, she had climbed up the stairs and slipped into her flannel pajamas and