New York, New York

This was one of our first assignments for my Creative Writing class last semester. We were given a short story to read, and we were asked to imitate the story in writing our own. This is my Wharton Imitation piece.

“Amy? Amy Rhoades?” The voice held a tone of shock and amusement, the words carrying over the crowds.

She was a beautiful woman in her early 30's. Her strikingly good looks had mellowed some and her perfect figure had softened somewhat after three children, but she was still able to turn heads, especially when she took some care with her looks. She looked up at the name she hadn't gone by in a decade, her brilliant eyes widening in shock at the familiar face.

“James Anson...I...never thought to see you again...” She tried to keep her voice light and airy, tried to hide the jolt of shock and the momentary ripple of fear she felt.

Her husband Anthony slipped an easy arm around her waist. They had been married for 10 years, and the early jealousy he had often felt when another man greeted his lovely wife had faded like the summer heat. Now, he only felt a touch of amusement at the lengths some would go to try to entice her away. For all of her faults, Amy was unwaveringly loyal to him, as she had proven time and time again. She looked up and granted her husband a brief yet stunning smile, before looking back to her old friend.

He practically drug a young woman behind him, a plain waifish thing Amy could only surmise was his wife. She was not unattractive, but her plain face, bored expression and dowdy dress made her stick out like a sore thumb amongst the glamor and glitz that surrounded them. 'We're in New York City,' Amy thought, 'I don't know how anyone can be bored in this place...' She quickly turned her attention towards the couple, pasting on her best dazzling smile.

“Good lord, Amy...you look exactly the same as you did in College!” She saw his eyes traverse her body, and she felt slightly uncomfortable being encased in the clingy dress she had bought specifically for their outing to the theater. She leaned closer to her husband, using his presence to fend off her own feelings of anxiety at being eyed by him in such a manner.

She pushed aside her fears, and the memories that threatened to overwhelm her. 'Be polite, Amelia. You can hate him, but for gods-sake, be polite! His father is still your parents' Pastor. The last thing you need is a frantic mother, wondering why you are so uncouth.' She shook her head and gave a soft, tingling laugh, her eyes looking up and away from him, admiring the sparkling lights of Broadway, “I suppose the years have been kind to me.”

He leered and his wife gave a little sad sigh, pointedly looking away from Amy and finding some item of great interest in the gutter. She could feel his eyes undressing her, slowly stripping her out of the slinky dress and down to the unmentionables that even Anthony hadn't seen yet. “Yeah, they definitely have been. What have you been doing? I haven't seen you since school. I've asked your parents, but they say you don't come home very often.”

“No, I don't get home much these days. I left town after we graduated, and I did some traveling. That's where I met Anthony...” she smiled and looked up at her husband, feeling her heart constrict in her chest, “This is my husband, Anthony. Anthony, this is James. An old... acquaintance from college.”

James' face wrinkled in a frown and he looked at Amy, “Acquaintance? We were more then that, Amy!” he glanced up at Anthony and smirked, “What she doesn't tell you is that we dated for a year and a half.” James winked, trying to share some manly bonding moment with her husband. His wife looked up sharply, looking at Amy and narrowing her eyes just slightly.

Amy looked away, and her face colored. The perfect evening, her ten year anniversary gift from her husband had quickly turned into a nightmare. She could feel her mind turning, trying desperately to find the words that would make it all end. Her husband, her very own hero in a fine-cut Armani suit, swooped in, his voice holding just the slightest edge that she knew meant business. “No, but Amelia and I never discussed our past relationships overly much. We never had the need to compare our lives together to those who came before.”

James let out a raucous laugh, and she could tell that he had been drinking. Heavily. She shot a furtive glance towards his wife, who only continued to look at her like she was the Whore of Babylon reborn. The wife finally spoke up, her voice little and tinny, “James – we have to get back to the hotel. Mother will want to get some sleep, and the boys have terrorized her long enough.”

James finally tore his eyes away from Amy long enough to give his wife a disdainful look before giving his crows laugh again, “That's my boys for you, always out terrorizing the ladies.” He gave Amy one last lustful wink and then turned with his wife, weaving down the street.

Amy watched after them for a long moment, her eyes filling with tears. Anthony turned her and looked down at her, his nut-brown eyes filled with concern, “Amy, what was all of that?” Reaching forward, he brushed the tears from her cheeks with his thumb, “Who was that?”

She sighed uncomfortably and looked away, her eyes drifting towards the New York City skyline. She had always longed to come here, to see the lights and to lose herself in the throngs of beautiful people. He rested a hand on her lower back comfortingly, rubbing small circles there. She took a moment to ruminate on how lucky she had been in life – she had landed herself an amazing job, an amazing husband, and three amazing children. The few low points were far outweighed by the bright ones.

Turning back to him, she looked up into his eyes, his face ablaze with the bright lights of Broadway, “That man...we dated, for some time.” She let out a deep sigh and closed her eyes, gathering her own inner strength. The downside of having a life blessed like hers, is no one thinks you should have your darkness. No one realizes that every bright star has it's heartbreak. Her mind drifted towards her children, her oldest daughter in particular. The star of her life, that brought with her more darkness and pain then most could imagine.

He nodded and frowned slightly, and she knew him well enough to practically read his thoughts. He was trying to puzzle out why she would let herself be weighed down by a man like that. He looked at her with a piercing gaze, “And?”

“He raped me, in a drunken stupor, shortly before we graduated. He always drank too much, I could never get him to stop...I broke up with him the next day but...I had a reputation, and I thought no one would believe me...” As her words trailed off, she felt her husbands rage ignite as he turned, moving to take a step after the man.

She sighed heavily, leaning out to rest a hand on his arm. He looked down at her, his brows knit together in fury. Her voice was soft, but she knew that her words would reach him on the wind, just as she knew how they would cut to his heart. “Anthony...he's Marissa's father.”