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The last counseling session of Mr. & Mrs. Jacobs

4/11/2014

10 Comments

 
Picture
Prompt: Good Vs. Evil.
Word count: 421/500

Deacon Reynolds leaned back in his leather office chair, the image of relaxed authority. Determined not to make eye contact, he steadied his gaze on the second hand of the clock just behind his parishioner’s heads. Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs had been attending weekly counseling sessions for just over one year. Today was their final session.

“Folks, I can’t tell you how to live your lives but I can tell you this, “he began; now staring at the ceiling. He pressed his palms together before raising his index fingers to his lips. “Scripture is clear on the roles of men and women, not only in the house of the Lord, but in our private homes”. He rocked in his reclined position for a few moments, hoping his prayerful stance inspired divine action.

“I’m sorry, Deacon Reynolds. If Sheena could meet me in the middle, maybe we could work this out. She wants too much. I’ve been sober for nearly a year, I’ve cleaned up my credit, I got a better job – it’s still not enough!” Mr. Jacobs was on his feet now, shoving his arms into the coat that had been crumpled in his lap for the past fifty-five minutes. The deacon swiveled around to face him – Lord, he did love a chair that swiveled – and narrowed his eyes.

“You are treading dangerous waters. Ten years of marriage to a good woman and you give up? Coward! Repent, and make things right. The Lord will forgive you.” He leaned back into the cognac leather, enjoying the squeak of the hinges.

Bob hung his head and slumped back onto the Chesterfield next to his wife. Sheena Jacobs was an ice sculpture; beautifully crafted yet frigid. The A/C blast wasn’t helping ease the tension that hovered around her. Bob started to reach for her hands, neatly stacked on a chiffon dress that was almost too dressy for such an occasion, before he thought better of it.

“Maybe I am a coward” Bob started, “... but I’m no schmuck. What’s done is done.” He exited without another word.

After a few moments, Sheena stood to release the creases in her dress. Her anxiety was palpable. Deacon Reynolds sat up again and loosened the starched white collar from around his neck. “Another Friday evening of success”, he quipped.

The young woman smirked, her nerves now electrified. She crossed the room like a lioness, her confidence increasing with each step. As she lowered herself onto the good Deacon’s lap, he whispered, “Leave the dress on tonight”.


                                                                                    *      *     *

Make sure to check out the other entries at this week's prompted. Annnnnd, if you haven't already done so, JOIN EC READERS!  

10 Comments
 


Wendy Strain link
04/11/2014 11:13pm

Sweet! What a nice bit of evil. Poor Bob never had a shot at winning, did he?

Reply
Mollie Claire
04/12/2014 9:21am

Poor Bob. He'll find a bigger package with a brighter bow soon. :)

Reply
J. Raven link
04/12/2014 8:36am

Another great story! I love the way your words flow through this. Perfectly-delivered ending~

Reply
Mollie Claire
04/12/2014 9:23am

Thanks, J! I rewrote the ending at least 10 times last night.

*shakes head* Writers! psssh! :)

Reply
J. Raven link
04/12/2014 12:26pm

Looks like you stopped on the perfect one.

Jen link
04/12/2014 9:21am

Ooh a different kind of evil. Nicely done!

Reply
Mollie Claire
04/12/2014 9:23am

Thanks, Jen! :)

Reply
Greg R
04/12/2014 5:18pm

Naughty, naughty! ;) Nice job! I loved this story.

Reply
E.A. Wicklund link
04/12/2014 11:32pm

Nice! I had a bad feeling about the Deacon from the start. The coldness of the wife made it clear the husband was wasting his time. I love the details of the creaking chair and so forth. A very well-written story!

Reply
Stephanie Pitcher Fishman link
04/15/2014 4:57pm

Now that was unexpected! I loved the details you added and the twist. Nicely done.

Reply



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    Mollie is a bohemian troubadour, deceptively packaged as a suburbanite .
    Her soul is wrapped in music, and her heart belongs to a man with more hair on his face than his head.

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