Alabaster Box

By Simone Qwunta

Hope Trudeau has lost the ability to believe, not only in herself but in the humanity of people. After losing her mother, husband, and the house she loved, she has buried herself in work, determined to hate her mother-in-law forever, until a walk on the beach and mysterious find changes everything, even the ability to BELIEVE.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Indelible Inscriptions
• Release date: Dec 14, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393140597

Simone Qwunta

Simone Qwunta is a novelist, screenwriter, and poet who lives, loves, and writes in Chicago.

Book preview

1

Broken

H ello!! I yelled into one of the two cellphones ringing on my desk. I didn’t bother to look to see who it was. It didn’t matter. I was tired and still had a lot of work to do. I closed my eyes and massaged my forehead as I listened to the voice on the other end of the phone.

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I can call you back later when you have some time to talk.

I rolled my eyes up into my head and clenched my teeth.

You have me now, so you may as well speak. Is everything alright?

Yes. Everything is fine. I sent you an invitation to come for Christmas, and I hadn’t heard from you. It’s next week, and I wanted to see if you were coming home. We haven’t seen you in two years, and we would really like to see you.

Why did they want to see me? My husband was dead, and they had never had a kind word for me when he was alive. Why now did they want to spend the holidays with me. I pinched the bridge of my nose and spun my chair around to look at the beautiful view from my window. I loved this view. It gave me peace. I took a deep breath and chose my words very carefully.

"I apologize. I meant to send you a thank you card letting you know that I would not make it this year. I have been swamped, but I don’t mean to make excuses. I should have done it, and I did not. I appreciate the invitation, but I can’t make it this year. Maybe next year.

The silence on the other end of the phone was deafening. I thought maybe she'd hung up. I looked at the phone to see if the call was still active.

Hope, we know that things were not the best between us before. We know that we could have done better. I could have done better. We have somethings to tell you, and we would really like for you to reconsider and if nothing else come for the day. If you can’t stay the week up to the new year, that is fine, but we do think that you will want to be here for the day. Please, just think about it.

I can’t make any promises. I have not cleared my calendar and plan on working through the holidays. If I can get a flight and find a hotel that still has a room, then I will consider it.

You can stay at the house with us. We have plenty of room.

I looked at the phone. I know she didn’t think that I was going to stay at the house with her mother. My mother in law took me to court so that she could plan my husbands funeral. She did some dirty things to me, and as a result, I didn’t even get to see him and say good-bye. She had my husband cremated before I could even view his body. There was no way I would stay at that house. Not now and not ever, not even for Christmas. For the past two years, I have suffered. Hell no. I was not going to Chicago. I left Chicago behind. Florida was my home now, and this is where I would celebrate.

I will consider it. I have to go. Thank you for calling.

I hit the end button without hearing her good-byes. Why should she be privileged with the opportunity? I sat with my head in my hands, wondering why they would invite me to Chicago for Christmas? It made me angry, and it brought back so much resentment. My mother in law blocked me from all of the insurance policies. I did not want the money. I did not need the money. I had my own money, but the fact that she would do all of this and then think that I would break bread with her enraged me. Every month like clockwork, the mortgage was paid on the house I left behind in Chicago. I did not ask her to pay my mortgage, and I did not need her to pay it. I was going to sell the house when I moved but found out that she, as the executor of his estate, would have to permit me to sell it. When I left Chicago, I left that life behind. I buried myself in work to forget the hurt and the pain of what I had faced two years ago when the love of my life died.

I met Gordon on a beautiful spring day in Chicago. I was walking up Michigan Avenue on my way back to work from lunch, and he bumped into me, literally bumped into me. There was something about his eyes that spoke to me. He looked terrific in his dark suit; his baritone made my chest quiver.

Excuse me. I’m so sorry. Are you alright?

My mouth dropped open because rarely does the voice match the looks, but in his case, it did.

It was love at first sight for me.

Oh, yes. I’m fine.

That you are. I don’t usually do this, but seeing how I nearly knocked you down, Can I walk you wherever you are going?

What? Today? Ponytail and eyeglass day? He wants to walk with me. Oh, my goodness. I knew I shouldn’t have hit the snooze button!

I’m only going to the next block. I’m alright. Thank you.

No. I will walk you. I insist.

He took his hand and turned my body back to the direction I was heading. I felt so self-conscious. I could have eaten at the sandwich shop