Keys and Other Stuff: A Book of Short Stories for Adults

By Jesslyn Zepeda

Keys and Other Stuff by Jesslyn Zepeda

A collection of short stories about relationships, romance, and people.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Newman Springs Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 8, 2021
• ISBN: 9781638813231

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Keys and Other Stuff: A Book of Short Stories for Adults

Jesslyn Zepeda

Copyright © 2021 Jesslyn Zepeda

All rights reserved

First Edition

NEWMAN SPRINGS PUBLISHING

320 Broad Street

Red Bank, NJ 07701

First originally published by Newman Springs Publishing 2021

ISBN 978-1-63881-322-4 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63881-323-1 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Key 1

Key 2

Key 3

Key 4

Key 5

Key 6

Key 7

Key 8

Key 9

Key 10

Key 11

Key 13

Key 14

Key 15

Key 16

Key 17

Key 18

Key 19

Key 21

Key 22

Key 23

Key 24

Key 25

Key 26

Key 27

Key 28

Key 29

Key 30

Key 31

Key 32

Key 1

Allie’s Story

This is the first in a series of stories about keys that I have found. I don’t know who the keys belong to. I found them on the street or in places. I made sure they didn’t belong to anyone around. Each key that I have leads to a lifetime, a story.

Allie opened the door and stepped into her apartment, glad to be home after a long day at her bakery. She had started her bakery not long after she graduated high school. Her bakery, Allie’s Place, had turned into a coffee shop and had become quite popular in her area of Boulder, Colorado, on the outskirts of the mountains. She wasn’t close to the college where the students preferred places like Starbucks; her place was smaller, but she had expanded it over the years with the help of her best friend/lover, Aaron. He had done wonderful things with her small shop, and her business had really grown. She had wanted to make Aaron a partner so that he could reap the profits, but he had refused.

Aaron was married with small children; they always seemed to be small, toddler age, even though she was sure they must be at least over seven or possibly ten years old by now. They never seemed to grow, always too young for Aaron to leave his wife, who never seemed to age either and never seemed to graduate from the junior college she seemed to have attended for at least five years. He spoke of her as though she was still in her twenties, still trying to figure out what she wanted to do besides be a wife and a mom, which, to Allie, seemed enough of a job to keep a woman content.

It was because of Aaron’s wife, Ellie, that Aaron couldn’t be a partner in the bakery, even though he spent long hours there and some long hours at Allie’s apartment when Ellie was studying after school and the kids were in day care. Or if Ellie took the kids and went to see her family in Denver for the weekend, Aaron would decline so that he and Allie could have a romantic weekend together; he would tell Ellie he had a project to work on but to give her family his love and regrets.

Allie put her work on the warm large kitchen table that she rarely ate at. She liked to watch TV while she ate or work at her computer. Aaron liked to watch TV or work on his computer at the table. She checked her answering machine, and the light was blinking. Hi, babe, I’ll be over in a while, gonna pick up some subs for dinner and some wine, I love you.

Allie smiled at the sound of his voice; she loved him so much. He was a beautiful man. They had a beautiful relationship when they were together. She wanted to hold him hostage and never let him leave and go back to his wife and admittedly adorable children, Janie and Scott. She had seen his children and knew his wife. His wife thought she and Allie were friends, and Allie was pleasant to her; the situation wasn’t her fault. Allie had no desire to break up Aaron’s family, except late at night when she was alone in her bed, Aaron’s scent still in the sheets and the pillow where his beautiful head had been only a few hours ago.

Allie would pretend to be asleep when he would leave after they had amazing sex from the late afternoon to about nine o’clock at night. He would kiss her, he knew she wasn’t asleep and holding in her tears, knowing the pain she would feel when he left her. And then all the feelings would move in: the loneliness, the anger, the sadness, the jealousy, the hopelessness, the knowledge that she shouldn’t be in this relationship. It was so wrong, but she couldn’t leave him any more than she could willingly slam her hand in the door. She knew eventually she would have to do something.

Aaron wasn’t willing to change anything; he didn’t see anything wrong with the situation, as long as his wife didn’t know about it. He loved Allie and he loved Ellie and he loved his children. He was perfectly content with the whole situation except when he was catching shit from one of the women for not being there, which was daily. He would hold the woman, and sometimes to him, he couldn’t tell one from the other, and he feared getting their names mixed up—they were so similar. The woman would cry and collapse into his arms. They would have their little episode and, in a few minutes, would be fine and off doing whatever it was they did. Allie would tend to something in the bakery, and Ellie would tend to something in the house or the yard or something involving the children. Aaron just felt it was his job to provide for everyone—Ellie, the children, and Allie—and he did with his business of home repair.

Friday afternoon, Allie and Aaron closed up the bakery. It was snowing heavily, and they were hungry for a good meal and for each other. Ellie had loaded up her van and had taken the children to spend the weekend with her family in Denver. Allie had decided tonight would be the night she would talk to Aaron about their future, and she would make her decision on what to do depending on his responses to her queries. She was tired of crying and being alone. Lately she had noticed how other men looked at her when they were in the bakery, lingering over coffee; some were married, some were single, some were divorced. She wondered which one she would choose if she had her choice. She knew she wouldn’t get involved with a married man ever again. She might like a single man, young and unattached. The divorced men were sad and just wanted someone to take care of them, cook and clean, take care of their kids.

Allie didn’t want to leave Aaron, the thought of it was so painful. She wondered if maybe she could just stay like this for an indefinite time and let the situation be, but she knew this was no way to live. She would think of Ellie and the children; she really didn’t know how old they were, they weren’t toddlers. Aaron hugged her and never let go of her hand the entire time they were in the car or when they were in the restaurant, Marie Calenders, their favorite. They were working their way through the entire menu each time they visited there.

They were drinking wine, each lost in their own thoughts, neither knowing what the other was thinking. Allie was trying to think about how to approach the subject when Aaron interrupted her solitude. The wine was delicious, and she was catching a nice buzz, and thoughts of ending their cozy arrangement faded away after each new glass.

So I’ve been thinking, Aaron said, holding her hand.

Uh-oh, she said teasingly.

What are we going to do about us, Allie? We can’t go on like this. I think about it every day. I don’t know what to do.

What exactly are we talking about? She had decided she didn’t want to talk about changing anything; if sharing him with Ellie meant being with him, she could live with that. Losing him would be like losing an arm.

Us, what do you want to do? Do you want me to leave Ellie? I love you so much.

No, I know you love your life with Ellie, and I know you love your children. I love you, we all love you, Aaron, we all just want you to be happy. I’m content with what we have, I don’t want anything to change. Let’s just enjoy our weekend, darling.

And with that, Allie felt content. She knew she had given him the right response, and at the same time, she promised herself that she was going to start paying more attention to what she wanted. If she wanted to see one of the single men in the bakery, and if he asked her out, she would go out with him and enjoy herself or talk to him on the phone at night after Aaron had left her. She already had several men in mind that she was going to start being extra nice to when they were in.

Aaron looked so relieved at her response. She hadn’t realized the weight he must be under, and now he looked as though a lot of that weight was lifted off his shoulders. He smiled his beautiful smile at her and held her hand and played with her bare stockinged toes under the table. She knew he was taking a bite of her pie while he was trying to distract her and charm her; he always did that. They would order a pie for tomorrow morning to have with their coffee in bed after they had made love, and they were sitting in bed, each with their laptop on, the windows open, watching the snow fall.

Key 2

Marg’s Story

Margo locked the door for the last time; she hoped it was for the last time, it was up to her whether it was or not. She hoped she would be strong enough to leave this house that had been her life since shortly after she had graduated high school. She went over everything in her mind for the thousandth time since she had decided to leave her husband and teenage children, her son, Andy, and her daughter, Dinna. Let’s see, she had packed her small bag with just enough essentials to get her where her next life began. She had cleaned the house, done the laundry, stocked the shelves and freezer and refrigerator with enough food to last them until they learned to take care of themselves, whenever that would be. She took her car but would leave it at the train station with the notes to her husband and children. She didn’t want them to worry or think anything bad had happened to her. She had tried to explain why she had to leave without sounding as angry as she felt; it was the hardest thing she had ever done, and the bravest.

A week ago, she had realized how lonely her life had become, how sad, how she didn’t know who she was anymore. She was nothing more to these people than a maid, a waitress. She had spent the day cleaning the house, doing the laundry, making dinner. She was working on a writing project when she looked up, and all three were standing in front of her; she hadn’t set out dinner, she had left it on the stove for them to help themselves.

We’re hungry, are you going to make dinner? they asked.

It’s on the stove, all you have to do is put it on a plate, surely you can do that. I need to finish this project before tomorrow.

Can you do it? And then call us when it’s ready. And with that, they walked away.

Margo rolled her eyes. She was so tired, and she needed to finish this project; the client was waiting so it could be published. Had she not been so tired, she would have smiled and gladly gotten dinner laid out on the table on plates. But tonight everything hit her, and she suddenly felt so sad. She just wanted to go to bed, maybe have a good cry and let tomorrow come, and maybe she would feel better. She got up and got the dinner prepared for the three capable people in her life. She did love them, but the way they depended on her had become so annoying. Since she had married Greg shortly after they had graduated high school, everything important to her had taken a back seat. Birthdays, holidays, vacations had become exhausting to her, she had to do everything.

Her writing, her freelance writing, her writing of short stories, the novel she was working on weren’t important to her husband and certainly not to her children. Whatever they needed was a priority over deadlines. Her husband had even tried to stop her from writing. He didn’t read any of her work, he thought it was her little hobby, even though she made good money writing for columns in the local news and some magazines. She had put that money away in her own account so that she would have money for presents for holidays and birthdays without relying on Greg.

Greg sold real estate and had his own company. She was proud of him, and when he needed her to come in and help in his office, she did. She went to all his award banquets, she made sure he dressed nice every day.

They had married soon after high school before she had the chance to think of what she might want to do. Her parents had adored Greg, and he made sure to present his best manners to them and earn their love. She realized in her second pregnancy that she didn’t really love Greg as a wife should. By then her life had become so routine and predictable; she was exhausted even back then with a toddler and another baby on the way. It was as if he and her parents had taken over her brain. Greg had spoken to her parents about marrying her even before he proposed to her. They were so excited for her, her life was planned now, she would be all right, she would never have to work. Greg already had a house for them. He and her parents went and picked out a station wagon for her nineteenth birthday and had it ready for her. When she woke up that morning, there it was, out on the driveway. Greg was already there when she woke up, helping her parents in the kitchen, or pretending to. He was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee with her father, while her mother prepared breakfast. She came to the kitchen, still in her pajamas; she hadn’t showered yet. She was shocked to see them all together in the kitchen.

What’s this about? she asked sleepily. They all looked up at her.

Margo, don’t you want to get presentable for your husband-to-be? her mother asked.

‘What? Margo asked. She was going to spend her whole day at the library researching colleges or job opportunities. She had her whole day planned.

We’re going to get married, Margo, I’ve already talked about it with your parents, Greg said proudly and confidently.

Margo looked at her parents, she wanted to cry with disappointment. They looked at her with such happiness, as if they were amazed that anyone would want to marry their only daughter. Her brother, Phillip, had joined the military and was in another state. She had never been close to him anyways. Margo didn’t want to disappoint her parents. She and Greg had been dating all through high school, but she wasn’t in love with him. She didn’t think of him when they weren’t together. She thought of other boys she knew as she touched herself at night in her bed and made herself wet, thinking about how she wanted to be with them. Sometimes she thought of women she would like to be with and made herself wetter still thinking about them. She wanted to kiss a woman and suck her nipples. She realized she was bisexual, or maybe she was just lonely.

After that disappointing day, everything moved along. She went along with everything and secretly promised herself if she played along with everything involving the wedding, then maybe after a year of playing house, she would tell Greg she’d had enough, and she would divorce him and move to New York City and pursue her dream of becoming a single girl and find a job and eventually go to college. She would show Greg that he bored her and that she wanted more.

That year never came. A year later, she was pregnant with their daughter. Her days consisted of morning sickness, a dirty house, dirty dishes, laundry, dirty diapers. One year turned into another, and here she was, fifty years old, and she hadn’t a clue who she was.

So she had decided after that night that she was going to take some time for herself. Although they lived in a suburb of Detroit, she wanted to start over somewhere she had never been before, so she began to research places she might want to go and start over. She had enough money in her account for a train ticket and money to find an apartment somewhere she had never been before. She just wanted to write and do what she wanted: sleep in, stay up late, go out, travel, shop, eat out, and decide for herself what she wanted and where she wanted to go. Greg always decided where they would go, and he ordered for her, monitoring how much she drank, making sure she didn’t have dessert, helping himself to her plate if he wanted without asking.

Greg was at work, and the children were doing whatever it was they did. They had graduated high school and were both planning on going to college, whatever college they wanted to go to. Each had their choice of cars; if they wanted to stay out all night or all weekend, they did. They came home when they felt like it, with a pile of dirty laundry to be washed.

Margo locked the door and got into her car—again chosen by Greg. She had never gotten to choose what car she wanted; Greg would decide that she needed a new car and would come home with a car for her, and that was that. She had never been to a car lot to browse and see what she wanted. He would bring home a sensible car, and she would thank him, and he would go back to work without asking if she liked the car or not. He didn’t care.

Margo drove to the train station and parked the car with the notes inside for her husband and children. She had her cell phone so they could reach her. She went to the ticket counter and was still unsure of where she wanted to go. She asked the agent when the next train was leaving and where it was going to. The agent told her there was a train leaving in fifteen minutes and going to South Texas near the beach. Perfect. Margo bought a ticket and went and boarded the train. Her adventure was starting.

Margo settled into the train and felt relaxed for the first time in her whole life. She could nap the whole way if she wanted to, or she could just look out the window. There was a dining car that was open the entire time. She could eat whenever and whatever she wanted, she could drink if she wanted to, she could have dessert if she wanted to. She tried not to think of her family at home, wondering where she was, where dinner was. She had stocked the refrigerator with meals and the freezer with meals. She assured herself it was okay what she was doing and tried not to feel guilty.

In two days, the train pulled into the station at the beachside community, and Margo got off. Panic set in. She didn’t know where she was going to stay, what was she doing? Maybe she should call Greg and have him come and get her. He would either be worried sick about her or furious at her. She realized she was just hungry and tired from the trip, even though she had napped throughout the trip and enjoyed being in the dining car and visiting with the other passengers and having actual conversations with actual people who didn’t want anything from her except her company. She went to the ticket agent and asked if there was anywhere to stay that she could take a taxi to. The agent booked a room for her at a nice hotel near the beach and called a taxi for her. Margo was grateful for her help.

The taxi came and took her to the hotel. It was right on the beach, and she had never seen anything so beautiful in her life. She wanted to stay right here; she would find an apartment here. She would start looking tomorrow.

She settled into her hotel room and decided to have dinner at the restaurant at the hotel. She had a delicious dinner and went back to her room. She turned on the TV after her bath and settled into the delicious bed that she had all to herself. She was so happy. She turned on the TV and was shocked to see her picture on the screen. Greg had reported her missing and a nationwide search was going on for her. Oh my god! she thought. She didn’t want people wasting their time looking for her. There was a number on the screen to call if anyone had seen her. She called the number and explained who she was and that she was fine. She asked the operator to call her husband and let him know she was fine. She didn’t want to disclose where she was. She wasn’t ready to talk to Greg or her children.

Within the hour, Greg called her; he could have called her on her cell phone the entire time. He wasn’t worried about her, he was furious. He ordered her to come home right now. She smiled at his confidence and at the illusion of control he thought he had over her.

I’m not going home, Greg, not ever. I’m fine where I’m at. I left the car at the train station.

We found the car.

Did you find the notes I left for you all?

Notes? We didn’t find any notes.

Oh my god, Greg, I left notes for each of you on the steering wheel. I also cleaned the house, did the laundry, left meals for you in the freezer and in the refrigerator, stocked the pantry and refrigerator before I left.

Did you pick up my suit from the cleaners? I need it this week.

No, Greg, I must have forgotten that.

"Dammit, Margo, can’t you remember anything? Now I’ll