A Year in Her Life by Alice Benson
Publication date: July 16th, 2020
Publisher: Black Rose Writing
Pages: 320
Synopsis:
Bonnie is a young woman, engaged and passionate about her new job, her feminist ideals, and her friends. Bonnie is also single and looking for a soulmate. Her last boyfriend dumped her after she supported him through law school. Her new boyfriend is nice, but a little boring and they're not attuned politically. Then Bonnie meets Jane. She's a little older, experienced, and compelling. They share a commitment to feminism and social justice. Unfortunately, Jane is married. Still, Bonnie finds her attraction growing. She denies it because Jane is off limits, but Bonnie is compelled and sure the attraction is mutual.
Set in 2016, the election is a backdrop to Bonnie's turbulent year of searching for love. This is a story of growth and maturation told in a voice that grows from timid to hopeful to confident and explores the complexity of relationships as well as themes relevent to the current times.
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Excerpt
January 2016
Bonnie was surprised to see her hand shaking as she turned the key. Was that anxiety, excitement, or just receding adrenaline? "Honey, I'm home," she called into the emptiness of the apartment. Usually, the irony of the words made her smile, just a bit, but not today. Today, it made her cry, just a bit. She collapsed in her favorite chair, an unbelievably ugly plaid that was overstuffed and so comfortable, she dragged it out of her neighbor's trash, down the block, up the stairs to her living room, and scrubbed it until she was sure there was nothing gross living in it. The late afternoon wind rattled the windowpanes made her restless, so she stood and peered into the gloom. Leaning her forehead against the glass, the cold winter frost was somehow comforting.
But chilly. Bonnie wrapped herself in an afghan, a green and gold remnant of a childhood teeming with her mother's nonstop knitting, and watched shadows cover the room, extinguishing the daylight inch by inch. Often, she thrilled to the quiet, loved the beauty of the solitude, but today, she wanted to speak, to staunch the flow of loneliness in the room by sharing her words, experiences, and feelings. She just survived a crucial interview for a job she truly wanted, and she needed to talk about it. Excitement about the possibilities, fears of not being good enough, regrets about some of her answers bombarded her from all directions and she wanted to huddle in the warmth and protection of loving arms, talking until the sun came up, surprising them both that the night was gone, lost in the wonder of their connection.
Bonnie walked to the kitchen and poured a glass of wine. "Thank you, honey." She spoke out loud to her imaginary soulmate. He'd be waiting at the door, eyes alight with joy at her homecoming, hand her a drink, put his arm around her, and they'd sit together while she described every detail of her day. He'd listen, his eyes never leaving her face, and he'd understand all her feelings. She wouldn't have to explain a single thing. Then he'd feed her the gourmet dinner he managed to cook while never leaving her side, and carry her to the bedroom for a romantic athletic, six-orgasm night.
That did it. She rolled her eyes, and her laughter was loud and lingering and filled the vacant spaces of the room. This fantasy was getting silly, the product of too many romance novels and movies in her formative years. Still... her laughter died as she considered that she did want to be with someone. Why was she still alone? Why couldn't she find the man who would always be there, just for her?
Bonnie put her feet on the coffee table and enjoyed more wine, remembering her last two boyfriends. Rick was a law student, so handsome and smart, she couldn't believe he actually cared about her. Of course, it turned out he didn't.
They moved in together, and Bonnie quit school and worked full time to support them, to help keep Rick's student loans down. Almost as soon as Rick passed the bar, he left, announcing his new job, his infidelity, and his plan for a future without Bonnie in one long, compound sentence.
The whole situation was such a cliche, Bonnie nearly laughed when he told her. A millisecond later, the hurt and humiliation kicked in, but Bonnie remembered not being as devastated as she thought she should be. It was true that she missed Rick. For weeks, she rolled over in bed, reaching and coming up empty, sleepy fingers hoping for warmth and substance, instead ending up with a fistful of Lycra. But she didn't always miss him that much. And part of her was actually glad he was gone. After a while, she realized she missed the idea of Rick more than the person of Rick. She wanted a soulmate, he presented himself, and she was willing to live in denial where they were the happiest of couples, with the promise of a glorious future together. Throughout the relationship, she found herself needing to ignore more and more evidence of incompatibility--pretending to be asleep when he wanted to have sex, the realizations that he rarely listened to her, and when he did listen, he almost always seemed confused by her ideas. When she lost the denial, she was able to move on. She wanted to be in a relationship with someone who listened and understood what she was saying, almost before she did.
Jack was a rebound guy, not super bright, not very cute, sort of the anti-Rick, except he was also a bit of a jerk. The sex was pretty good, but he was emotionally unavailable and just a tad controlling. They rarely talked about anyone more substantial than his car or his take on the most recent sporting events. It took her more than a ear of coasting, happy with someone being better than no one, until, with the help of her friends, she found the gumption to end it with him.
Friends, good friends, best friends. Bonnie lit a cigarette and looked at her phone. It was six-thirty. she realized that, even without her true love, she didn't have to be alone tonight, so she texted her friends, Vickie and Linda. They arranged to meet at Vickie's house in half an hour.
"How was the interview?" Vickie asked after hugging Bonnie and Linda hello.
Bonnie shrugged. "It's hard to tell. I think I do okay, but I don't know." Now that Bonnie was with her friends, who were interested and cared about her, she could share all the details of the interview, beginning with her anxiety, sweaty palms and all.
"Tell us," Linda said.
So Bonnie did.
Bonnie was surprised to see her hand shaking as she turned the key. Was that anxiety, excitement, or just receding adrenaline? "Honey, I'm home," she called into the emptiness of the apartment. Usually, the irony of the words made her smile, just a bit, but not today. Today, it made her cry, just a bit. She collapsed in her favorite chair, an unbelievably ugly plaid that was overstuffed and so comfortable, she dragged it out of her neighbor's trash, down the block, up the stairs to her living room, and scrubbed it until she was sure there was nothing gross living in it. The late afternoon wind rattled the windowpanes made her restless, so she stood and peered into the gloom. Leaning her forehead against the glass, the cold winter frost was somehow comforting.
But chilly. Bonnie wrapped herself in an afghan, a green and gold remnant of a childhood teeming with her mother's nonstop knitting, and watched shadows cover the room, extinguishing the daylight inch by inch. Often, she thrilled to the quiet, loved the beauty of the solitude, but today, she wanted to speak, to staunch the flow of loneliness in the room by sharing her words, experiences, and feelings. She just survived a crucial interview for a job she truly wanted, and she needed to talk about it. Excitement about the possibilities, fears of not being good enough, regrets about some of her answers bombarded her from all directions and she wanted to huddle in the warmth and protection of loving arms, talking until the sun came up, surprising them both that the night was gone, lost in the wonder of their connection.
Bonnie walked to the kitchen and poured a glass of wine. "Thank you, honey." She spoke out loud to her imaginary soulmate. He'd be waiting at the door, eyes alight with joy at her homecoming, hand her a drink, put his arm around her, and they'd sit together while she described every detail of her day. He'd listen, his eyes never leaving her face, and he'd understand all her feelings. She wouldn't have to explain a single thing. Then he'd feed her the gourmet dinner he managed to cook while never leaving her side, and carry her to the bedroom for a romantic athletic, six-orgasm night.
That did it. She rolled her eyes, and her laughter was loud and lingering and filled the vacant spaces of the room. This fantasy was getting silly, the product of too many romance novels and movies in her formative years. Still... her laughter died as she considered that she did want to be with someone. Why was she still alone? Why couldn't she find the man who would always be there, just for her?
Bonnie put her feet on the coffee table and enjoyed more wine, remembering her last two boyfriends. Rick was a law student, so handsome and smart, she couldn't believe he actually cared about her. Of course, it turned out he didn't.
They moved in together, and Bonnie quit school and worked full time to support them, to help keep Rick's student loans down. Almost as soon as Rick passed the bar, he left, announcing his new job, his infidelity, and his plan for a future without Bonnie in one long, compound sentence.
The whole situation was such a cliche, Bonnie nearly laughed when he told her. A millisecond later, the hurt and humiliation kicked in, but Bonnie remembered not being as devastated as she thought she should be. It was true that she missed Rick. For weeks, she rolled over in bed, reaching and coming up empty, sleepy fingers hoping for warmth and substance, instead ending up with a fistful of Lycra. But she didn't always miss him that much. And part of her was actually glad he was gone. After a while, she realized she missed the idea of Rick more than the person of Rick. She wanted a soulmate, he presented himself, and she was willing to live in denial where they were the happiest of couples, with the promise of a glorious future together. Throughout the relationship, she found herself needing to ignore more and more evidence of incompatibility--pretending to be asleep when he wanted to have sex, the realizations that he rarely listened to her, and when he did listen, he almost always seemed confused by her ideas. When she lost the denial, she was able to move on. She wanted to be in a relationship with someone who listened and understood what she was saying, almost before she did.
Jack was a rebound guy, not super bright, not very cute, sort of the anti-Rick, except he was also a bit of a jerk. The sex was pretty good, but he was emotionally unavailable and just a tad controlling. They rarely talked about anyone more substantial than his car or his take on the most recent sporting events. It took her more than a ear of coasting, happy with someone being better than no one, until, with the help of her friends, she found the gumption to end it with him.
Friends, good friends, best friends. Bonnie lit a cigarette and looked at her phone. It was six-thirty. she realized that, even without her true love, she didn't have to be alone tonight, so she texted her friends, Vickie and Linda. They arranged to meet at Vickie's house in half an hour.
"How was the interview?" Vickie asked after hugging Bonnie and Linda hello.
Bonnie shrugged. "It's hard to tell. I think I do okay, but I don't know." Now that Bonnie was with her friends, who were interested and cared about her, she could share all the details of the interview, beginning with her anxiety, sweaty palms and all.
"Tell us," Linda said.
So Bonnie did.
Alice Benson lives in Wisconsin with her partner and their small dog, Max. She discovered writing as a passion in the third act of her life and devotes as much time as possible to it. When not writing, she works in the human service field. Published works can be found in New Purlieu Review, Epiphany, Lady Ink, Delta Woman ezine, and Diverse Voices Quarterly. Her Life is Showing is Alice's first novel and was published in January, 2014, by Black Rose Writing.
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