The Givers
KLMT-CGZ 2008


She lay awake watching the alarm clock. Lying on her side as close to the edge of the bed as she could be. Her long strawberry blonde hair felt silky against her cheek as she lay against it upon her pillow. She was wrapped tightly in her sheet and cradled her body in close with her arms wrapped about her. She could hear her husbands’ rhythmic sounds of breathing and knew he was in a deep sleep as his back was turned from her.

Alyson was at one time a vivacious and full of life girl. There was something infectious about her ways of passion for standing up for others, for getting involved in charity work, for always being that first person there to lend a helping hand. Her amber colored eyes seemed to glow with determination, as she would pursue helping others find solutions to their dilemmas. Maybe that is what attracted her husband, Boyce, to her to begin with. This full-bodied redhead with a sprinkle of freckles running across her cheeks and nose was so full of passion for whatever she did. He felt empty and she from the moment they began talking one night at a chance meeting over at a local art exhibition had a spirit of giving that he never experienced while growing up. She made him feel important and he liked the feeling.

The bright fluorescence of the alarm clock showed a glow around the bedside table where it had kept the moments day after day. The glow was almost like a halo affect as it caused a circular division between the lit translucence of the electrical kind and the foreboding darkness of the room that encased it from all sides. The time was 2:46 am. She needed to stretch her body out as it ached from being so bound into a fetal position for the last four hours. She was tired and wished sleep would be the angels kiss of eternal restful bliss. However the alarm was about to sound its blare of time and she always automatically awoke prior to this annoying alarm so her husband wouldn’t be disturbed sooner than he must from his sleep. This hour came because she was one of the givers… breakfast had to be made for her hard working husband. Why? She did it to show her appreciation for him. Never did she do it begrudgingly she always found it a pleasure. She just hoped that he would someday say, “Thank you” as she poured his second cup of coffee, brought in his newspaper, set before him dark toast with light butter, two fried eggs, four strips of crispy bacon and a glass of orange juice like he used to the during there first year of marriage. Each morning though there never was a thank you or even a recognition of anything that occurred that hour before the dawn or for that matter any time during the 24-hour cycle. Thank you’s and I love you’s were a rarity if ever that proceeded out of his mouth. She often wondered what would happen one morning if she just didn’t get up and stayed in bed like so many of her friends did.

His waking time was 4:00 am and his workday was a long hot one in the unforgiving sun of the California desert. He drove a delivery truck to and from multiple food stores. His day began by loading his truck with the elements of dairy, meats, produce and prepackaged snacks. Then his delivery to over 250 grocery stores through out the week began. The food stores were all small convenience type stores really and the route was a rather nice course to drive. Always lots to look at while driving the desert roads and an occasional deer or coyote would dart out in front of his truck. The owners of the food stores too were always glad to see him. They’d offer him a cool drink something to eat and a bit of a chat before he got back into his delivery truck and went on to the next store. Yes he had it good even though the job was tough on the arms, back and legs from lifting and loading. Still it was the kind of job that gave him quiet time, the feeling of independence and the perks of appreciative offers from the storeowners.

Boyce, once a boy who had hopes wishes and dreams that never really came to fruition. Too often his overbearing father stripped him of any of his own ideals. More often than not his fathers words were bitter and full of ridicule for anything Boyce would plan, dream or discover. His fathers lack of love and appreciation for who he was as an individual hollowed out a boy to become a man who thought Alyson would be his empty souls remedy. Alyson was to be the cure all that would give him the medicine to love himself for himself. He couldn’t understand how he could love a woman so much, but feel his own inability to express it because he didn’t find himself worthy to even be loved by her. So to deal with the pain he pushed her away and he hardened his heart, set his remorse aside and just rose and lived each day in the vanity of just living. Never opening himself enough to love himself and to let go of what had damaged his childhood spirit and embrace what was his soul… his wife… and give to her in return so that the full circle of what he needed and she needed could be fulfilled.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed lightly placing each foot to the floor. She stood up slowly trying to stretch the pain out of her body. Her body's muscles had a dull ache probably due to the lack of rest. Looking down at the electronic glowing numbers they clicked and changed to 2:56 am. She switched off the alarm button and slipped off her t-shirt. Standing naked in the dark always made her feel emotion. There was something about the shadows of the room in that hour when you’re the only one awake and the want to be loved in the pre-hours just before dawn that made her wish someone would just give to her love. She was empty…

She was tired of being one of the givers…

I hope you've enjoyed the short story called The Givers. This is part of a multiple short story of fiction works being slowly processed, typed, edited and re edited for publication in the future. The Givers is owned and copyright by the World Wide Association of Copyrighters Inc. and protected under the WWAofC Inc law. No duplication of any kind may be made in part of whole. Violaters will be prosecuted.

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