Shattered Dreams

Henrietta October sipped her fourth vodka, hoping to dull the pain from her sunburnt shoulders and back, as she waited for Kyle to answer the telephone. Deep in the back of her mind came the nagging thought, once again, that she shouldn't be calling him, but the effects of the first three vodkas had dulled her self-control. Just as she was about to hang up the telephone, she heard someone pick up and the unmistakable sound of Louann's voice answer.

"Why are you calling, Henrietta?" Louann asked her, clearly annoyed.

"I...I just want to speak to Kyle," Henrietta slurred. It was obvious to Louann that Henrietta was drunk once again and this only increased her annoyance.

"He's not here. He's at work. Besides, we've told you not to call here. He won't forgive you and neither will I. I will tell you once more: Leave us be and let us move on with our lives. Good-bye, Henrietta."

"But...but...I..." Henrietta didn't know what to say, but demons in her past would not let her walk away from Kyle.

"Oh and stop drinking and get a life already!" Louann added before slamming the phone down.

Henrietta sat listening to the dial tone, tears running down her face, and gulped down the remainder of her glass of vodka. She sat at the table, staring at the now empty glass and replayed the phone conversation over and over again in her mind. Abandoning the glass, she grabbed the bottle of vodka and stumbled into the living room. Entering the room, she made a beeline for the bookshelf, tripping as she grabbed one of the three photo albums on the shelf. Henrietta collapsed to the floor, the photo album in her lap. With shaking hands, she flipped through each page as the tears flowed faster and faster. Finally, unable to take it any longer, Henrietta shoved the photo album away from her and greedily drank the rest of the vodka, anxious for the peace that she knew only the blackness would bring.

Hours later, Henrietta awoke, sure that the pounding she was hearing was only in her head. It took her a moment to realize that the pounding was, in reality, coming from her front door. Slowly dragging herself to her feet, one hand shading her eyes from the blinding light, Henrietta dragged herself to answer the front door.

“Ms. Henrietta October?” the uniformed officer asked as she opened the door.

“Yes,” she responded warily.

“You have been served. Have a nice day.” With that, the officer handed her the envelope he had been holding. He then turned and walked away, leaving Henrietta standing there dumbfounded.

Henrietta closed the door and walked to the kitchen in search of something to help ease her hangover. She dropped the envelope on the table and opened the cabinet in search of some aspirin. Grabbing the bottle, she fixed herself a Bloody Mary, and sat at the table, staring at the envelope.