Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Charade (08/14/08)
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TITLE: Now is the Office of Her Discontent | Previous Challenge Entry
By Heather Sargent
08/18/08 -
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Maybe it's not the redness you're trying to cover up.
She laughed at the thought. She finished applying her make-up and gave the mirror another look of discontent before hurrying off to work.
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Sam sat in her office lost in thought.
Knocking. She put on her reading glasses and grabbed a file. “Come in,” she said, looking busy.
“Mayor, they're ready.”
Sam set down the file and her glasses on her large mahogany desk and straightened her suit. “Yes, I'm coming.” She inhaled deeply, shrugging off all signs of self-doubt and proceeded to the press conference.
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Relieved it was over Sam slipped back into her office taking off her suit jacket and hanging it on the back of her chair. She paused momentarily looking at the curio wall-cabinet that kept her secret.
There's nothing wrong with just one drink.
Shoving the guilt aside, she poured the red wine and took a sip, closing her eyes and embracing a deep sense of relief. She slid into her over-sized, executive red-leather chair, pressing the intercom button on her phone. “Ginny? Hold all my calls please, I have an important project to work on and I don't wish to be disturbed.”
“Yes Mayor.”
Sam leaned back, holding the crystal glass like a delicate flower. Her smile faded. I suppose I'm the project I should be working on.
She pushed the thought away, finished her wine and went back to work.
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Sam tossed her keys on the foyer table and hung her jacket and purse in the closet. She hurried upstairs to change out of her business attire and into her sweats and tee shirt. She poured a glass of wine, pulled a frozen entree out of the freezer and popped it into the microwave.
Looking at her wine she felt a pang of guilt. She told herself she just needed something to relax on rough days. There were a lot of those lately. Frustrated at the thought she picked up the phone and dialed.
“Hello?”
“Hey sweetie! It's Mom.”
“Hey Mom.”
“Why don't you guys bring the kids by this weekend. We can drive to the lake house.”
Silence.
“Liz?”
“Mom, I think we need to keep some distance for awhile. You know. Until things...calm down for you.”
“Calm down for me? What are you talking about?” Sam's heart quickened.
“Well, I know things have been stressful for you.”
“Liz, honey, what you are talking about?”
Liz sighed heavily and switched the phone to the other hand while stirring dinner. “I have to say it, “Mom, I think...you're an alcoholic. You need help.”
Sam's mouth fell open. “What in the...an alcoholic? What would make you think that?”
“Someone told me she smelled alcohol on your breath several times over the last few months and I've noticed things too.”
“I want to know who it is, right now!”
“It's Ginny, she's part of my ladies group at church.”
Sam couldn't find words worthy enough to speak. The corners of her eyes stung with tears.
“I've wanted to talk to you for awhile. God can help you through this.”
Sam suddenly felt heavy, she slumped down into the kitchen chair. “I don't even know where to start Liz. I have to be strong, so many people rely on me.”
“Exactly why you need to do this. You can't do it in your own strength. God gave you that position so you could make positive changes in our city. Somewhere along the way, you forgot about Him. You were never meant to do this alone, it's meant to be a partnership.”
Sam sat in shocked silence. “I thought no one noticed. I had this charade to keep up of being strong and in-control.” Sam's shoulders heaved. “I'm so sorry honey,” she sobbed.
Liz bit her lip, “Come to church Sunday and we'll talk about the rest.”
“I love you, Liz.”
I love you too, Mom. See you Sunday.”
Sam hung up the phone. God, I've really screwed up, can you still use me?
She felt a familiar peace wash over her as she dumped her wine down the drain.
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I didn't understand why Liz decided to keep her distance, just when her mother needed her support the most.
Glad to read the ending, and to feel the hope at the conclusion of your story.