<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601568486597935223</id><updated>2009-12-22T02:47:24.794-06:00</updated><title type='text'>ellie and friends</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>ellie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15854933369544818739</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>622</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601568486597935223.post-8242243606230203044</id><published>2009-12-22T02:37:00.061-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-22T02:37:00.219-06:00</updated><title type='text'>finally</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iDg4IvUi4K4/Sxleis1PImI/AAAAAAAAAmA/2OlStk-GHvk/s1600-h/nicnsyd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" er="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iDg4IvUi4K4/Sxleis1PImI/AAAAAAAAAmA/2OlStk-GHvk/s320/nicnsyd.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The anticipation was over. Eric guessed. But he was scared. Butterflies in his stomach. Syd was arriving any minute at the airport, and he really wasn't sure what might be next. What if she had the worst time ever?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were so many things he was not going to do. The big one, sleeping with her. Of course, that was going to be kind of hard in a studio apartment. But then it was her place. He guessed. He'd &lt;em&gt;Fabried &lt;/em&gt;it and vacuumed as much cat hair as he could possibly find. The dishes were done and the counter wiped down. Perhaps, Roger wouldn't be too upset if he stayed over at their place while Syd was in town. He'd think of something. Maybe. He just didn't know. Everything was so iffy, lately. Like Amanda and Elliot's wedding. Did he go? Should he? Should he not? God, the thought of explaining it all to Syd. Did she really need to know, yet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He thought he might pass out with all the worry and excitement. Eric looked at his watch. He closed his eyes, hoping she was the one. Hoping it would click into place. But the more he waited, he thought she'd hate him. She'd think he was not her type at all. They'd have nothing in common. But then he looked up and saw her with her honey brown hair. She wasn't as tall as he imagined which was OK. Perhaps not as tiny as Ellie, but she looked so confident. He swallowed back the threat that she might be too confident for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Syd." He said, not to loud, but she looked his way, then a mass of people walked by and he felt he'd been swept away from her. "Syd!" He waved. Finally after the crowd drifted through he could get to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was all smiles then. She gave him a hug right away which he wasn't expecting. It was as if they had known each other a very long time. He wasn't nearly as nervous as he thought he'd be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wow, you're..you're so tall." She might have winked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't think I'm that tall." He shrugged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, you are." She jabbed&amp;nbsp;with her fingers&amp;nbsp;playfully in&amp;nbsp;his ribs. "But I can still do that." And she left it at that as she turned to walk toward where the bag check would be. She looked back at him and grabbed his hand. Eric was kind of shocked, but a nice surprise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So how was your flight?" He asked as they edged through the crowd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Actually, I slept most of the way." She shrugged. "So I should be awake, all night."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Good." Eric wasn't sure he was planning on an all nighter. "Are you hunger?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Kind of." She nodded. "There's this little&amp;nbsp;bistro in the old market I'd love to go to, but I don't mean to, you know, well..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, I think I know the one you mean." They talked about the place. Eric liked it. It would be nice to have a table instead of being tucked away by the kitchen door. They liked the same places to eat. So they sat down on a bench and talked about all the places they would go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Then there's my Mom's." He nodded. "Christmas."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Duh, yeah, oh I have to get you something." She looked at him, she held his hand, and this felt good. Remarkable comforting. He would try his best not to move this too fast. He had to savor every tiny moment because she would be leaving to go back the day after Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's OK, really you shouldn't." He said about the present.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But I do. I want to. If they'd only let me bring stuff on the plane. OK, I actually, did make you something, but I'm afraid to give it to you." She smiled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What is it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I can't tell you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Then I can't tell you what I got you, either." He tried his hardest not to smile, but she got it out of him. He was so happy. If only this feeling could last forever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601568486597935223-8242243606230203044?l=elliencompany.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/feeds/8242243606230203044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8601568486597935223&amp;postID=8242243606230203044&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/8242243606230203044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/8242243606230203044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/2009/12/finally.html' title='finally'/><author><name>ellie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15854933369544818739</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17374976335099722604'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iDg4IvUi4K4/Sxleis1PImI/AAAAAAAAAmA/2OlStk-GHvk/s72-c/nicnsyd.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601568486597935223.post-5869587196954669904</id><published>2009-12-21T02:53:00.022-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-21T13:46:05.968-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it doesn't have to be wrapped up</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iDg4IvUi4K4/Sy_QYCefeKI/AAAAAAAAAoc/tKT8flXVaVc/s1600-h/soamber.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ps="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iDg4IvUi4K4/Sy_QYCefeKI/AAAAAAAAAoc/tKT8flXVaVc/s320/soamber.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;"So what's he really planning?" Kyle asked Amber about Nick. "You think he'll win him back?" Nick was off in the livingroom making arrangement about something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, he's gotta plan." Amber just smiled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Glad somebody's got one." Kyle shrugged. They were drinking hot chocolate in the kitchen. "So why did you come?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Some Christmas shopping, and he wanted his parents to meet me." She shrugged sipping her hot drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh." They'd just met by accident, he supposed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And to meet you." She smiled then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Really?" This was freaking Kyle a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, he kind of considers you his closest friend." She told him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, yeah, we go way back." Kyle nodded. "He's really a good guy." He looked at Amber. Damn, why did she have to be so cute and sweet. A part of him wanted to go out in the cold and get a reality check. The idea that maybe he'd like to see her, on a date, ate at him. They'd just met. He really wasn't as fast as he used to be with this kind of&amp;nbsp;stuff. And he shouldn't even try. Really, he didn't want too. But he had too. It was like a window of opportunity that he couldn't close, just yet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Look," he said. "You wouldn't be interested in going to a wedding with me, would you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I dunno." She smiled all over. "I live, you know, an hour or so away. Out in the country. It would be an awful long drive for you. And its winter."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's OK." He smiled. "I can drive. I like driving, actually, and it wouldn't be a problem."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"OK, when?" She looked at him blankly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The 28th, you doing anything?" He looked at her seriously while he craddled his cup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Are you kidding me," Amber laughed with a smile. "Believe me, I don't do much of anything except take care of livestock."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he saw her smile, he smiled to, thinking this was the best Christmas present he could get, meeting someone like Amber.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601568486597935223-5869587196954669904?l=elliencompany.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/feeds/5869587196954669904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8601568486597935223&amp;postID=5869587196954669904&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/5869587196954669904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/5869587196954669904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/2009/12/it-doesnt-have-to-be-wrapped-up.html' title='it doesn&apos;t have to be wrapped up'/><author><name>ellie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15854933369544818739</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17374976335099722604'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iDg4IvUi4K4/Sy_QYCefeKI/AAAAAAAAAoc/tKT8flXVaVc/s72-c/soamber.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601568486597935223.post-762813222517279649</id><published>2009-12-20T02:39:00.015-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-20T02:39:00.792-06:00</updated><title type='text'>been there all along</title><content type='html'>Amanda knew she was slow. Getting slower, but she almost had all her Christmas shopping done for Rosie. Finally. She hadn't thought of anyone else. Not even Elliot. Of course, it did bother her that maybe she should get Kyle something. But she didn't know what. And really, she didn't have all that much to give. She'd been so dependent on others, lately. It really was the worst time of year. Naturally, her brothers weren't going to give her anything. They were in their own little worlds. Derrick was in a band now and was very busy with gigs this season. She doubted either of them would manage to come to her wedding. Which was fine. She was fine with that. And her Dad would be in Vegas, avoiding them completely. As usual. Honestly, just thinking about Christmas was depressing. But she was going to use Elliot's credit card and at least get Rosie something good. She deserved it. She was in the toy store wondering just what Rosie would like when she bumped into Kelsey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're the last person I expected to see." Kelsey looked at her as if Amanda might be some sort of celebrity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Just some last minute stuff." Amanda shrugged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, me too." Kelsey nodded looking at video games.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Who are you shopping for?" Amanda asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Kyle, who else?" Kelsey shrugged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I thought you broke up?" Amanda winced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He's just not talking to me. He's mad at me. He has to pout about it, you know. He'll get over it." Kelsey went on with her shopping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I dunno. I think, he..well, he gave me the impression that you two broke up." Amanda told her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But we didn't." Kelsey squinted. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Maybe you two should really talk." Amanda sighed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But its Christmas." Kelsey chuckled. "He'll be OK."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You should call." Amanda nodded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He's just being a big baby about all this about Nick. Nick doesn't even care." Kelsey glared at her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Have you even talked to him?" Amanda asked about Nick. "He broke up with Heath, you know."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Who told you that?" Kelsey looked at her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ellie."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You two are talking?" Kelsey scowled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes." Amanda found Rosie a tea set then. Really, she had no idea what she would actually like. She was a Daddy's girl, after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I hope it works out with you and Kyle." Amanda managed to say, but she had feeling it was over and Kelsey didn't even know it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601568486597935223-762813222517279649?l=elliencompany.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/feeds/762813222517279649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8601568486597935223&amp;postID=762813222517279649&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/762813222517279649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/762813222517279649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/2009/12/been-there-all-along.html' title='been there all along'/><author><name>ellie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15854933369544818739</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17374976335099722604'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601568486597935223.post-2141920923656137671</id><published>2009-12-19T03:48:00.042-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-19T03:48:00.069-06:00</updated><title type='text'>around the bend</title><content type='html'>Kyle was laying in the livingroom floor with his chin resting on his palm as he watched Rosie stack blocks up.&lt;br /&gt;He'd just gotten up the artificial tree. Still nothing was decorated. He wasn't really in the mood. Maybe his mom and step-dad would do it. Really, he didn't even want to look at it. He wanted to feel nothing, but this moment with Rosie who was very&amp;nbsp;eager to stack the wooden blocks as high as they'd get. He didn't want to feel sad. He knew he shouldn't. He was definitely not going to make an effort with Kelsey. He'd had enough of that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just then the door bell rang and&amp;nbsp;Rosie tipped the blocks and&amp;nbsp;the blocks came tumbling to the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Aw-OH!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kyle repeated it back to her. She gave him a look. He just smiled and went to get the door. To his surprise it was Nick and&amp;nbsp;he wasn't alone. But it wasn't Heath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This is Amber." Nick introduced her to Kyle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What are you guys doing? Christmas shopping for Heath?"&amp;nbsp; Kyle&amp;nbsp;gave Nick a playful&amp;nbsp;hit on&amp;nbsp;his arm with his fist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No. I don't know what I'm doing. Exactly." Nick shrugged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amber just gave Kyle a look over.&amp;nbsp;When she smiled, it was so...well, it was hard for Kyle not to notice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You know we broke up." Nick nodded as he went to find a seat on the couch. Amber followed him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I'm sure Heath's going to figure out sooner or later, that he didn't mean it," Amber said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't know how to fix it." Nick tried to help Rosie with&amp;nbsp;her blocks. Amber just watched.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You'll think of something." Kyle sighed. He dug his fingers into this front jean pockets, noticing that maybe Amber was noticing him too. But she was so animated with Rosie, Kyle couldn't help but smile. "I know how serious you both are about each other."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What about you and Kelsey?" Nick looked up at him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, well, you know." A cold chill taunted him. "Its all right. Really. She needs to get out more. I've probably kept her from things, you know." He didn't want to talk about her. "Look, you guys watch Rosie, I'll make us hot chocolate." He knew he needed some to warm up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601568486597935223-2141920923656137671?l=elliencompany.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/feeds/2141920923656137671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8601568486597935223&amp;postID=2141920923656137671&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/2141920923656137671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/2141920923656137671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/2009/12/around-bend.html' title='around the bend'/><author><name>ellie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15854933369544818739</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17374976335099722604'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601568486597935223.post-7143096062951707650</id><published>2009-12-18T01:32:00.037-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T01:32:00.742-06:00</updated><title type='text'>just say the word</title><content type='html'>"Its not like I'm saying NO."&amp;nbsp;Ellie looked at him as she sat there in the pew after everyone else had gone on their merry way to the reception. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Really?" His smile got to her. She smiled too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Its like I'm on this adventure with you," Ellie said as she rested her head on his shoulder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You know, I really want us to be married a while before we have kids, anyway." He sighed. "Charlie is more than enough for now."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, he's plenty." She agreed. "So how do you think your parents really feel about him?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It doesn't matter." He shook his head. "I mean, I always felt being here was more of a burden than anything. And well, I kind of think Dad has what he wants right now. He's got Lonnie, close by. And I'm far enough away that, you know, we don't have to see each other all that often. Kind of the way he likes it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That doesn't bother you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, no it doesn't." He smiled. "Sometimes, you feel closer to family when you're far away instead of right next door because that can really drive you crazy. Or maybe I just drive him crazy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But they love you. They do. Your step-mom is completely in love with Charlie." Ellie was sure of that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No," he shook his head. "They love you." He messed with her hair a bit. "We'd have to get married here."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But my Mom would want me to get married, you know, back home." She sighed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We better get married three times just to make sure its a charmed life, you know." He laughed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am expecting you to get down on one knee, you know. Or its not a done deal." She slightly smirked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He got up then and turned around taking a little black velvet box out of his coat pocket. "Alright."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ellie looked up at him. He was serious. She just smiled when he got down on one knee and said those magic words.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601568486597935223-7143096062951707650?l=elliencompany.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/feeds/7143096062951707650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8601568486597935223&amp;postID=7143096062951707650&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/7143096062951707650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/7143096062951707650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/2009/12/just-say-word.html' title='just say the word'/><author><name>ellie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15854933369544818739</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17374976335099722604'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601568486597935223.post-3313190074326164404</id><published>2009-12-17T02:38:00.028-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T02:38:00.250-06:00</updated><title type='text'>what will it be</title><content type='html'>Lon couldn't decide which was worse for Ellie. Getting sick at his parents and them questioning her ever few minutes, wondering if she were going to have a baby. Or the fact that Irma was at the wedding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was the last person Lon expected to see at the wedding. It was really quite pretty. Such a small affair. Well, the little church was packed. Mostly, people that&amp;nbsp;Lon's Dad knew that neither Lonnie nor Steph knew. But she looked like an angel. And Lonnie was all in white too. It was really picture perfect. Almost too picture perfect for Lon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They didn't really have any time to talk. He and&amp;nbsp;Lonnie. Lonnie and&amp;nbsp;Charlie. For a split second it seemed that&amp;nbsp;Lonnie had for Charlie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;It was going so fast. The festives and the wedding. Lon barely had anytime to talk to his brother like he wanted too. It was all so different than he expected. Nothing much was said about Charlie. Of course, he took care of him mostly, and Ellie too who kept insisting this migraine and the sickness was due to her allergies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He guessed she was right, but he wasn't really sure, either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then there was Irma who was all happy to see him until she saw Ellie with Charlie. Lon suddenly found himself saying, "This is my son and my fiancee, Ellie."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, Ellie just looked at him as if he couldn't be talking to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why did you do that?" Ellie looked at him puzzled, after Irma walked off into the crowd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Because its true." He smiled as if he knew exactly what was going to happen. He knew what he wanted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were too many people for them to discuss this further. Plus, he guessed he'd burst Irma's bubble that they hadn't a chance getting back together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I think we should get married this summer." He told her, but he would have done it right this minute if he could. He didn't like all this waiting. He really wanted this to come true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She just nodded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You know, what we could do, is just go to the justice of peace, you know, like tomorrow, and just do it. But we could come back here in May and you know, have...this." He looked around at all these&amp;nbsp;pink roses and ribbons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ellie sucked in a breath. She didn't say anything. Lon wasn't sure what that meant.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601568486597935223-3313190074326164404?l=elliencompany.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/feeds/3313190074326164404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8601568486597935223&amp;postID=3313190074326164404&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/3313190074326164404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/3313190074326164404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/2009/12/what-will-it-be.html' title='what will it be'/><author><name>ellie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15854933369544818739</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17374976335099722604'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601568486597935223.post-6330957201164773563</id><published>2009-12-16T04:18:00.010-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T04:18:00.250-06:00</updated><title type='text'>all in the family</title><content type='html'>"What are you up to?" Eric looked at Ian as if he'd really lost it this time. "Stay'n with my mum!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, she said I could." Ian looked so innocent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eric shook his head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This is not suppose to be happening." He winced. "Mum's finished with raising kids. And she's not terribly happy with me at the moment. How could you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"She said I could." He repeated as if that was suffient enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why? Don't tell me its that girl you met down the street." Eric glared at him. Ian had his old room at his mother's. She'd called&amp;nbsp;Eric to tell him she was putting his things in storage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Kind of." He shrugged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eric was in a huff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Look, things with me and Dad are sort of on the rocks."&amp;nbsp;Ian finally said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, it can't be," Eric was completely pissed now. He'd said none of this before. Nothing about Dad. "You are his favorite." He stared at Ian as if he had to be a liar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, I'm not. You are." Ian told him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, right." Eric winced. He didn't believe that for a second.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And, seriously, its my mum. I have to get back at her, somehow. She's cut me off, completely. I can't remember the last time we've spoken. And your mum, well, she's a mum. She's&amp;nbsp;cooked for me. We watch movies together." Ian sighed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eric scowled and gave him a bit of a shove.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How could you? She's my Mum. Not yours!" These were things they used to do. "I'm calling Dad."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Go ahead." Ian glared back at him. Eric got out his cell and direct dialed while he looked at Ian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hullo." Eric said. This was no time he&amp;nbsp;knew to bring up Amanda and the baby. Just what was Ian up to?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601568486597935223-6330957201164773563?l=elliencompany.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/feeds/6330957201164773563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8601568486597935223&amp;postID=6330957201164773563&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/6330957201164773563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/6330957201164773563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/2009/12/all-in-family.html' title='all in the family'/><author><name>ellie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15854933369544818739</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17374976335099722604'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601568486597935223.post-4622852243207291979</id><published>2009-12-15T01:31:00.032-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-15T22:02:09.094-06:00</updated><title type='text'>me without you</title><content type='html'>Nick thought it might have been a joke. But it was true. Heath found a job. Out in the middle of nowhere in western Nebraska. And he was happy. Happy as an idiot could be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What?" Nick just glared at him as if Heath hadn't considered him at all in this. None, what so ever. He was going. Who ever hired him had already found him an apartment. It would be so simple and hours and hours away from here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I know, its a shock. Believe me, its a shock. I just couldn't say no, you know. It was meant to be." Heath was so happy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Really." Nick hesitated. "What does this mean, exactly?" He kept his eyes on Heath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I think we should break up." He said so sincerely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Break up!" Now he'd really hit a nerve. How could he decide something like this on a whim. "What are you talking about?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I know." He looked off as if he was trying to take a cue off stage when in fact there was no off stage. "Its for the best. We aren't that involved. Yet."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nick just about lost it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You can't just up and do this to me! You...you.." He didn't know what else to say. No, he wasn't really his lover. Close. So very close. He knew his body quite well, and it was the only one Nick wanted. Nick felt himself shake. It was like a time bomb ready to be set off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm sorry. I am. But really, you know, its for the best. You, your young, and well, I love you, but I have to do this, and I have to let you go. So-" Heath tried to come closer, but Nick backed away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So what? What am I supposed to do?" Nick squinted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Look, I have to do this. I know its the right thing to do. And I have to do this on my own. All right? I can't expect you go, you&amp;nbsp; know. I want you to be happy. Maybe by New Years, we'll see things differently, but I have to get out there. Now. Maybe we could&amp;nbsp;e-mail each other. Maybe." He sighed, but he only looked at Nick. Not a hug nor a kiss. It was over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More at &lt;a href="http://heathandnick.blogspot.com/"&gt;Heath &amp;amp; Nick&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601568486597935223-4622852243207291979?l=elliencompany.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/feeds/4622852243207291979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8601568486597935223&amp;postID=4622852243207291979&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/4622852243207291979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/4622852243207291979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/2009/12/me-without-you.html' title='me without you'/><author><name>ellie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15854933369544818739</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17374976335099722604'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601568486597935223.post-7265024800737737142</id><published>2009-12-14T01:04:00.037-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-14T01:04:00.672-06:00</updated><title type='text'>away we go</title><content type='html'>They were packed. Ready for the wedding. They were flying&amp;nbsp;to Texas&amp;nbsp;for Lonnie's wedding. Luckily, Olivia had found Ellie a dress the day after Thanksgiving. It was a white sweater dress.&amp;nbsp;Ellie just hoped she didn't burn up in it at the wedding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We won't be there long," Lon promised as if Ellie would have no chance to get her sea-legs, so to speak. She couldn't remember the last time she'd ever flown, anywhere. Some traveler she was. And they had Charlie which worried her even more. Not so much the trip itself, but seeing his family, and Lonnie. She was scared. But she wasn't sure what she might be afraid of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We get into Dallas. Jay will pick us up." Lon was going over all of it, how Lonnie's uncle was helping out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's still like 4 hours from where your family lives."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, technically, my Mom lives in Dallas. I sort of promised we'd see her before we go back." This was the first Ellie had heard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Really?" Ellie didn't know what to say. "When did this happen?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I promised Lonnie a long time ago, I'd do it. I don't like it, but we have too." Lon shrugged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We have too?" Ellie had butterflies in her stomach, already. She thought she might be sick. She couldn't be sick. She didn't want to be sick. She couldn't afford to be sick. They were on a time table here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So they were packed and off to the airport. Olivia was dropping them off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We'll be there in no time." Lon was all smiles as they hit the road. He held her hand. They had Charlie all secured in his carrier. This was just going to be crazy. Just crazy, she thought. She just hoped she didn't throw up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally they were settled on their flight. Honestly, as Ellie looked back on it, they were less time in the air than anything else. Naturally, it was a mad house at the Dallas airport. After a bit of waiting, Jay finally found them and they were put in the back seat of his little car.&amp;nbsp; Again Ellie thought it might happen. Being sick. But it hadn't happened yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, all the way back, Ellie felt for sure she could feel her butt actually riding the pavement. She felt every bump along the way. She was down right woozy by the time they got to&amp;nbsp;his Dad's house. And she had a headache. But then she started sneezing. Finally, she made it to the bathroom before she vomited in the livingroom. It was then Ellie knew she should have stayed home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601568486597935223-7265024800737737142?l=elliencompany.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/feeds/7265024800737737142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8601568486597935223&amp;postID=7265024800737737142&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/7265024800737737142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/7265024800737737142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/2009/12/away-we-go.html' title='away we go'/><author><name>ellie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15854933369544818739</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17374976335099722604'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601568486597935223.post-905456152549312000</id><published>2009-12-13T02:38:00.056-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-13T02:38:00.305-06:00</updated><title type='text'>how it was..how it is</title><content type='html'>Maybe Eric was right, they couldn't work this out, thought Amanda as she went back to the kitchen to see if she could find something for dinner. Maybe it was too late. Maybe Elliot couldn't get passed this with Eric being a part of their lives now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She knew in her head, even in her dreams, she kept seeing this all being so forgiving. They would be happy. She guessed that was a fantasy. It wasn't like a TV commercial where everyone got along. Besides, they could do that for thirty seconds and then a silence would grow and here they were back to both being at best, strangers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, did he bring anything good?" Elliot came to the kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was freakishly&amp;nbsp;startled and threw&amp;nbsp;a can of chunky noodle soup at him, straight in the chest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"OW!" This time he meant it too. "You! You! Just want to hurt me!" He heaved a sigh, and he reached for the can in the floor and put it on the kitchen table. He sat down sobbing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No," she winced. "You scared me." She sat down next to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm trying to make this work, and you won't let me." He sniffed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I'm sorry. I am, maybe I don't expect you too. Maybe you shouldn't." She frowned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm not thrilled that you lied to me." He reminded her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I know." She nibbled her bottom lip. She touched her chapped lips. They were so dry. She guessed she deserved that too. He reached in his pocket for some &lt;em&gt;Blistex&lt;/em&gt; and gave it to her. She slid the balm across her lips then and gave it back to him. He used some too while it was out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Remember that time, I almost had you talked into running away with me. We could have gone to Adventureland, wasn't like I was asking you to go to Hong Kong, you know." He looked at her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"OK, I wish we had. It would have changed everything. I'm sorry I&amp;nbsp;didn't." She winced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You should have." He glared back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Are you going to stay mad at me?" She looked him in the eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't want to stay mad at you." He told her, shaking his head. "I want to trust you. Because I still love you. It just hurts, you know. Why couldn't it have been me? The one time I wanted it to be me, and it wasn't me, Amanda. It wasn't me." He choked on tears, making himself, practically sick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She pushed her fingers through his hair, touched his warm forehead. She couldn't help but feel her face flood with tears. She knew she had to listen to all the things he had to say before any of this got better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601568486597935223-905456152549312000?l=elliencompany.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/feeds/905456152549312000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8601568486597935223&amp;postID=905456152549312000&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/905456152549312000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/905456152549312000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/2009/12/how-it-washow-it-is.html' title='how it was..how it is'/><author><name>ellie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15854933369544818739</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17374976335099722604'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601568486597935223.post-681572279669791831</id><published>2009-12-12T02:16:00.028-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-12T02:16:00.079-06:00</updated><title type='text'>the awkwardness</title><content type='html'>Eric brought over groceries as soon as heard what happened to Elliot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, it was a little awkward. He was expecting to see Elliot in bandages or braces on his feet, but he was fine even if he was laying there on the couch like someone had amputated his feet. Eric thought it best not to question him. At least Amanda was putting away the groceries in the kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You know, its all in his head." She said as if&amp;nbsp;Eric would&amp;nbsp;know what she was talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm not sure I'm following." He winced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The accident." She scowled. "He swears I was out to get him." She turned away and put&amp;nbsp;stuff in the fridge. "I googled it and everything, and nothing is wrong with him. They even said so at the emergency room."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I really wouldn't want to try it, myself." Eric told her. "You know, getting my feet ran over." It made his feet hurt thinking about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She rolled her eyes at that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He's just being a baby. A baby about everything." She gave him a soured look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eric's eyes lit. Maybe it was best if she'd shut up with the word, &lt;em&gt;baby&lt;/em&gt;. Eric sighed and went to the living room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So how are you feeling, Elliot?" He'd just hit it head on. Stay positive. Talk to him as if he would any of the residents where he worked. Just go on with things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How do you think I feel?" Elliot gave him a mad look with his arms crossed. Eric knew they weren't talking about feet now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Can you go to school? Are you teaching?" Eric asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why, wouldn't I?" Elliot was in a pisser mood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Good." Eric faked a smiled. "That's good news, isn't it? You didn't break anything?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So." Elliot fumed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And you and Amanda are good, right?" Eric stared at Elliot hoping he'd come around and say something nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just silence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eric looked back at Amanda standing in the kitchen doorway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm sorry. I really....Really, I am. Its just I really want us to work this out. I hope, you two could, but maybe..Maybe you two shouldn't get married." Eric sighed staring so seriously at Elliot who wouldn't even look at him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We are getting married." They both said together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eric almost laughed. Seriously, he had a feeling they enjoyed arguing. He supposed his work was done here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601568486597935223-681572279669791831?l=elliencompany.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/feeds/681572279669791831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8601568486597935223&amp;postID=681572279669791831&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/681572279669791831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/681572279669791831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/2009/12/awkwardness.html' title='the awkwardness'/><author><name>ellie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15854933369544818739</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17374976335099722604'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601568486597935223.post-1185377122864298251</id><published>2009-12-11T01:36:00.026-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-11T01:36:00.534-06:00</updated><title type='text'>little gifts</title><content type='html'>Olivia was pleasantly surprised when Ellie opened the door to their new home.&amp;nbsp;Olivia hadn't been down to help with the move. She'd had studies to tend too. But she'd found some time to bake cookies and bring a warm cheese and rice casserole dish down for some kind of gift, she supposed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So what do you think?" Ellie beamed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olivia smiled. It seemed weird that they had their own place. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Its great." Olivia was happy for her. A place to have her very own home, not just a room and sharing a kitchen with roommates. She could only dream of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Naturally, just white sheets for curtains and they'd found some furniture to make do at Salvation Army. But it looked so&amp;nbsp;cozy and neat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My Mom brought us dishes." Ellie told her, taking the food from her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a bowl of apples on the kitchen table. It seemed her mother had a thing for red and yellow crockery. It wasn't Ellie's taste at all, but&amp;nbsp;Olivia knew they'd probably take what they could get.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Is your mom OK with this?" Olivia looked at her out of concern.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, she'd like it more if we were &lt;a href="http://thislonnielove.blogspot.com/2009/12/so-be-it.html"&gt;married&lt;/a&gt;, but then she'd be mad about that too." Ellie shrugged. "I've kind of stopped pleasing her a long time ago."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olivia lightly laughed. Then she noticed something missing for the holidays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What about a Christmas tree?" Olivia asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Um, that might be why." She pointed to Charlie then who was leaning into a box of toys in the bare room. He looked at Olivia then and took a few steps toward her. "I'm pretty sure we'd have to put it in the play pin if we had one."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olivia just smiled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When did he start doing that?" She didn't even think he wanted to learn to walk&amp;nbsp;as much as Ellie carried him around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Just a day or so ago." Ellie shrugged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's amazing." Olivia called for him then. He knew her and couldn't possibly wait to get his damp&amp;nbsp;hands in her hair.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601568486597935223-1185377122864298251?l=elliencompany.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/feeds/1185377122864298251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8601568486597935223&amp;postID=1185377122864298251&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/1185377122864298251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/1185377122864298251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/2009/12/little-gifts.html' title='little gifts'/><author><name>ellie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15854933369544818739</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17374976335099722604'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601568486597935223.post-6309732487195953826</id><published>2009-12-10T01:25:00.024-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-10T01:25:00.192-06:00</updated><title type='text'>what the future holds</title><content type='html'>Heath was applying anywhere possible these days for a teaching job. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I wish you wouldn't let your dad stress you out so much, you know." Nick watched him on his laptop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, its now or never." True, Heath was tense hoping every word was spelled correctly. It was annoying, but he would be graduating soon. And he needed to at least try. He didn't want his Dad to think he was a complete failure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You should take some time off." Nick shrugged. "Its the holidays."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll have January to meditate, I'm sure." Heath figured as much. Here he was giving up the one job he had for what? The unknown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't like seeing you like this." Nick stood there with his hand's in his jean pockets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Are we having a fight?" Heath winced as he slapped his laptop shut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No." Nick winced back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Then, get off my case about this, will you? Its my future." Heath then glared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But its with me." Nick's voice changed ever so slightly as if Heath had completely forgotten about him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heath looked away. He didn't know what to say. Maybe this wasn't enough. Maybe he really needed to be on his own. Perhaps he'd depended on Nick far too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm not sure anymore." Heath shook his head. "I'm not sure of anything, anymore." He bit his bottom lip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nick gritted a frown as if he'd shove him if he could, but he wouldn't. He stomped away. Slamming the door behind him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heath stood there in the silence. It didn't make him feel any better as to what he'd said.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601568486597935223-6309732487195953826?l=elliencompany.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/feeds/6309732487195953826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8601568486597935223&amp;postID=6309732487195953826&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/6309732487195953826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/6309732487195953826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/2009/12/what-future-holds.html' title='what the future holds'/><author><name>ellie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15854933369544818739</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17374976335099722604'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601568486597935223.post-2888018810149990723</id><published>2009-12-09T02:51:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-09T02:51:00.166-06:00</updated><title type='text'>little nerves</title><content type='html'>Well, where was she?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elliot had moped around long enough. But everything was just a little too cold at home. He missed Amanda's expirments in cooking. They weren't great, but little surprises he always smiled about, her trying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He would pace from room to room, thinking what kind of life would be here if she wasn't here. He could hardly stand it. Or was it himself?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elliot didn't mean to be so angry. But he just was. It was all so hard to swallow. She'd lead him on, hadn't she? Just when would she have brought this up, about the baby? On the kid's 26th birthday. Well, that would have set him off, now wouldn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It hurt that she hadn't been honest. Was she that afraid? Did she think he'd hate her, that much?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He just couldn't hate her. She was like this innocent doll that he really wanted all to himself. He guessed. Funny, how she'd shocked him. And he'd thought of her as someone he didn't want to know before he met her. Especially, when Ellie talked about her in the beginning. Funny, how things changed. Amanda was the one who made him like kids. It was as if she'd given him something he'd always missed. They were friends, but more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Naturally, no one was home at Kyle's. He stood there in the driveway with his arms crossed. Why hadn't he called? He didn't want to wait, but now she was making him wait. It was getting on his nerves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally he saw her coming in her little car. Really, it was a miracle that thing worked, he thought. Obviously, she needed something new.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She rolled down her window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What are you doing here?" She looked at him as if he were crazy. But she didn't give him a chance to answer before she ran over his foot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He wasn't sure what he said, but he was sure something was broken. More than a toe. perhaps. He let out a holler, and damn, if she didn't back up and run over the second foot. He was beginning to think she just liked seeing him in pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His feet were crushed. She helped him to the passenger side. He could hardly speak. A glare was all he could manage as she drove to the emergency room. Maybe he wasn't hurt at all. Just his ego. It was really hard to tell. It was so freaky. But he couldn't stop over-reacting. His feet did hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Are you trying to kill me?" He finally asked as she almost got them hit on a left turn she took.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No." She wouldn't even look at him. "Just shut up."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally they got to the emergency entrance. She got out to help him in. Some people saw how helpless she looked, a pregnant&amp;nbsp;girl trying to carry a grown man in. She let them take him. He looked back as she went to her car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You are coming back, aren't you?" He was in pain as he squinted. He wanted her here with him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601568486597935223-2888018810149990723?l=elliencompany.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/feeds/2888018810149990723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8601568486597935223&amp;postID=2888018810149990723&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/2888018810149990723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/2888018810149990723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/2009/12/little-nerves.html' title='little nerves'/><author><name>ellie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15854933369544818739</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17374976335099722604'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601568486597935223.post-2277529876205181248</id><published>2009-12-08T02:41:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-08T02:41:00.354-06:00</updated><title type='text'>just suppose</title><content type='html'>"Please, please don't be upset with me," Eric begged as he walked Amanda back out to her car. "I don't want to upset you. I'm sorry what I said about Kyle, you know." He looked at her as if&amp;nbsp;he was really trying to be upset, but she'd noticed a change in him after that phone call. He was giddy as a school boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Its OK." She just stared at him wondering what in the hell had made him so damn happy. She could hardly stand it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Have you heard from Elliot?" He kept his smile from rising. She shook her head, no. "Do you want me to talk to him?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No. Just leave it, alone." She kept a stiff upper lip. "You must be relieved. You know, with your Mom knowing everything."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hardly, she'll let me have it. She will. She'll rake me over coals, first chance she gets." He told her. "She's angry with me. Not you. She would never be angry&amp;nbsp;with you. She'll always be on your side, you know."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amanda almost smiled. Tears suddenly emerged. She thought of her own mother then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It'll be all right." Eric smiled. "Old Elliot, he'll see what an ass he's become. He'll ask for forgiveness. You'll take him back. You'll find other things to disagree about."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah. Sure." She didn't believe him for a second.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Look, I'm meeting someone for Christmas. I think you should meet her. Hopefully, it'll all work out. All right? Really, Amanda, you aren't that alone. You've got plenty who care about you. We'll see you'll have a fine Christmas." He gave her a hug then as friend would do. She just wanted him to let go. He was just too damn happy for her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601568486597935223-2277529876205181248?l=elliencompany.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/feeds/2277529876205181248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8601568486597935223&amp;postID=2277529876205181248&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/2277529876205181248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/2277529876205181248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/2009/12/just-suppose.html' title='just suppose'/><author><name>ellie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15854933369544818739</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17374976335099722604'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601568486597935223.post-7092241730144638941</id><published>2009-12-07T01:44:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-07T01:44:00.152-06:00</updated><title type='text'>can't find a break</title><content type='html'>Eric had done his best to start out the good news with his mom before Amanda showed up at his mother's apartment. Naturally, she was quite thrilled about him getting Heath's old position. It all worked out quite nicely. He had the qualifications. He was up on all his assessments and certifications. And she was all smiles. It was like he'd given her an early Christmas present.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then Amanda showed up, baby bump an all. It wasn't exactly something she could hide. She was a tiny thing with something huge. Really, Eric winced so, wondering what he could possibly say to keep it from being an awful blow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And...and even more exciting news, Mum." Eric tried to grin, hoping to make it as positive as possible. "You'll be a Gran come February."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He could tell his mom was struggling to keep her smile. She shook Amanda's hand, but she kept looking at Eric as if he'd better explain this. He wanted to say anything but the truth. Like, perhaps she wanted a baby and they'd found themselves down at the sperm donors clinic. He guessed that wouldn't have worked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We're friends." Amanda told her. "Just friends." She winced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, friends." Eric gritted a smile, but he put his arm around Amanda as if they were in this together. Some how.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Friends with benefit, evidently." His Mom gave him a glare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You might remember Amanda, Mum, she's...she's Kyle's girl-." He'd blurted the wrong thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, I have a daughter, already." Now Amanda was giving him a glare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eric winced then. How could he have said that? He so wanted to ask her how it was going with Elliot, but he didn't. He plopped down on&amp;nbsp;the sofa and let his mother talk with Amanda about the predicament and what she could do to help. It was as if he might as well not be there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iDg4IvUi4K4/SwBangfJJ6I/AAAAAAAAAlA/MvuDl_Vsj98/s1600-h/sydd.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404419187626551202" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iDg4IvUi4K4/SwBangfJJ6I/AAAAAAAAAlA/MvuDl_Vsj98/s400/sydd.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 386px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 214px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just then his cell buzzed. He got up to reach for it in his pocket and went to his old room to see what this was about. Syd had finally sent a picture of herself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eric blinked, taking in her picture. He couldn't believe it. It was really true. He really did love her. He did. He didn't know why, and he knew if he told anyone they'd think he was crazy. Truly, a nutter of some kind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But he found himself smiling. He was in a state of shock. Even better, she was coming for Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;just so you know who to look for at the airport.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He couldn't wait to meet her. It was like a breath of fresh air to him. He could only hope he wouldn't ruin it. But obviously, she'd like what she'd seen when she saw that photo of him with her cat. Or maybe she just missed Belle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601568486597935223-7092241730144638941?l=elliencompany.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/feeds/7092241730144638941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8601568486597935223&amp;postID=7092241730144638941&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/7092241730144638941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/7092241730144638941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/2009/12/cant-find-break.html' title='can&apos;t find a break'/><author><name>ellie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15854933369544818739</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17374976335099722604'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iDg4IvUi4K4/SwBangfJJ6I/AAAAAAAAAlA/MvuDl_Vsj98/s72-c/sydd.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601568486597935223.post-1975294884035185745</id><published>2009-12-06T01:18:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-06T01:18:00.180-06:00</updated><title type='text'>what about Eric</title><content type='html'>"You know, what I was just thinking," Nick said as he walked along with Heath out in the old towne area. It was brisk out, but it was nice they could hold hands and no one would stop and stare. "If you do find a position, I know you want to quit at the home. Maybe you could talk to Eric. See if he's interested. He'd be perfect."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You think?" Heath smiled as if it would be a relief to find someone to replace him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He definitely wants a job."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But there's&amp;nbsp;Olivia?" Heath questioned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So, I think they are pretty much, over. He's not trying to win her back, you know." Nick told him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heath just nodded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Whats the matter?" Nick leaned in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nothing, I'm a little stressed." Heath shrugged. "What if I give up this job I have now and find nothing?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We'll be OK." Nick winced. He had faith in him. Heath would find something. Hopefully, something he loved.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601568486597935223-1975294884035185745?l=elliencompany.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/feeds/1975294884035185745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8601568486597935223&amp;postID=1975294884035185745&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/1975294884035185745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/1975294884035185745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/2009/12/what-about-eric.html' title='what about Eric'/><author><name>ellie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15854933369544818739</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17374976335099722604'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601568486597935223.post-6588136628523614687</id><published>2009-12-05T01:07:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-05T01:07:00.170-06:00</updated><title type='text'>if</title><content type='html'>It was progressing so quickly. The student teaching. Heath wasn't sure to be happy or sad these days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He loved his group. All of them, in fact. He couldn't think of a better experience. He just couldn't wait to quit the job at the home. Really, this was what he wanted to focus on. Not babysitting a bunch of misfits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You won't hate me if I quit, will you?" Heath asked Nick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why? What are you talking about?" Nick looked at him with a smile while they were out doing a little window shopping for Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I want a teaching job." Heath had decided he'd find himself one. He'd sent in resumes where ever he could think of. He was ready. Seriously. Although, he knew public school might not yet be in store for him. They liked a season teacher. It was the middle of the school year and well, that wouldn't help. He hoped perhaps the school he'd student taught at might put in a good word for him so he could sub, if nothing else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, I see that. And you will." Nick gave him a pat of confidence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I might have to leave you." Heath's eyes rested on Nick's gaze.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nick nodded as if he understood, but Heath was afraid he didn't. But he'd have to face that if he got the opportunity to teach.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601568486597935223-6588136628523614687?l=elliencompany.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/feeds/6588136628523614687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8601568486597935223&amp;postID=6588136628523614687&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/6588136628523614687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/6588136628523614687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/2009/12/if.html' title='if'/><author><name>ellie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15854933369544818739</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17374976335099722604'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601568486597935223.post-724529975887889780</id><published>2009-12-04T02:43:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-04T02:43:00.679-06:00</updated><title type='text'>coming undone</title><content type='html'>Eric showed up at Kyle's with a couple of bags of groceries one afternoon when classes were over. Mainly it was fresh fruit and veggies. Stuff that caught his eye that maybe someone could use. They weren't specifically for Amanda or anything. But maybe. He could have called, but he doubted she would have picked up. Really, he had doubts of seeing her. But there she was with Rosie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Any word from-" He didn't know if he should say Elliot's name or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amanda shook her head, no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well," this was tough. He'd been banking on her not being there. And they wouldn't have to talk. This was so awkward. "I'm sure he'll come around."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I think Kyle and Kelsey broke up." She told him as if that was her fault too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Really?" He winced. This was bad. Bad for the holidays. So many bad things happening, he felt. "I haven't found a job yet." He sighed. That was a bad reminder too."Sorry. Seems the seasonal stuff is all taken. I should have applied at places back in September or something. I guess." Might as well make this as bleak as possible, he guessed. Everything was just crap, he supposed. He hadn't even heard back from Syd when he sent the picture of him and Belle. Yeah, even that had hit a dead end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Things are great for Ellie," Amanda said. "She and Lon have their own place now. Its just a rental, but she seemed happy about it. Guess, they moved in before it snowed or anything."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The weather's been really mild, lately." He reminded her as if that had to be good news, but it was definitely getting cold now. Snow in the air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, still nice enough for Christmas shopping." She sighed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If only&amp;nbsp;I had some money now." He smiled. "But I don't really want anything for Christmas."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Did you talk to your Mom about all this?" She seriously looked at him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No. Not yet." Eric squinted as he went to unload the groceries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you want me to&amp;nbsp;come with you?" Amanda asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eric's eyes lit. He just stared at the hard apple he was holding for the longest time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sure." He finally nodded. It suddenly felt he was making a trip to hell, and there was no way of avoiding it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601568486597935223-724529975887889780?l=elliencompany.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/feeds/724529975887889780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8601568486597935223&amp;postID=724529975887889780&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/724529975887889780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/724529975887889780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/2009/12/coming-undone.html' title='coming undone'/><author><name>ellie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15854933369544818739</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17374976335099722604'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601568486597935223.post-1164094233583386587</id><published>2009-12-03T02:59:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-03T02:59:00.621-06:00</updated><title type='text'>the word is out</title><content type='html'>Kyle knew Nick was furious with Kelsey, but he told him he'd talk to her about it since Nick had classes and was busy with Heath. There was no need for Nick to have to be any more stressed than he was. After all, his parents knew. The word was out, thanks to Kelsey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So why did you do it?" Kyle looked her straight in the eye there in the hallway by her locker after school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do what?" She looked puzzled and all so innocent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You know what you did." He glared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She slammed her locker shut and hugged her books.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It was an accident." She sighed as they walked out to his truck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Was it? Are you sure?" He didn't quite believe her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes. I just saw Nick's Mom at the grocery store. I didn't mean too. Really." She glared back at Kyle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How could you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I dunno. I just opened my mouth and I just say, 'oh..how's Nick and Heath.'..kind of like, you know, them being a couple and well, I couldn't shut up. I just couldn't." Kelsey pressed her lips tight then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And you didn't tell Nick what you did, what's that about?" Kyle winced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I kind of hoped, she would forget or something." Kelsey shut her eyes tight. "I'm sorry, all right."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, don't tell me you're sorry. Its Nick you need to apologize too." They got in his truck then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I know. I will. I don't think he'd believe me." She hugged her books.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't even know if I believe you." Kyle said somberly, wondering how much longer this whole thing would last with Kelsey. He knew she wasn't so happy that Amanda was back at the house. She hadn't said anything yet, but he could sense it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Fine." She looked at him as if she was the one mad at him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're just sore because of Amanda." He drove toward Kelsey's house. "There is nothing going on. All right. She doesn't even speak to me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kelsey didn't say anything. He just looked at her wondering if this was it. Nothing more to be said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He pulled up in her driveway and she got out. Not even saying good-bye. He thought of so many things to say, but he said nothing. He felt the cold wind of winter seeping in. He had a feeling it would be the worst Christmas ever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601568486597935223-1164094233583386587?l=elliencompany.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/feeds/1164094233583386587/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8601568486597935223&amp;postID=1164094233583386587&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/1164094233583386587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/1164094233583386587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/2009/12/word-is-out.html' title='the word is out'/><author><name>ellie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15854933369544818739</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17374976335099722604'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601568486597935223.post-1918172944418781782</id><published>2009-12-02T01:43:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-02T01:43:00.662-06:00</updated><title type='text'>making a house a home</title><content type='html'>They needed a bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why didn't we just order one on the Internet?" Ellie looked at Lon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Because you have to know what you're getting. You have to sleep around." He shrugged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We are talking about beds, aren't we?" She squinted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were on their way to the furniture mart to find one as fast as possible. Lon had gotten some old dresser and mirror from someone he worked with. He'd repainted them black to go with the dark olive green walls he'd painted in the bedroom. He was doing his best to get everything moved in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was crunch time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They had to be in Texas by the 15th for Lonnie's wedding. They wouldn't stay long. He'd gotten airline tickets the day he found out about the wedding. It was best to make this painless as possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He zoomed on his truck with Ellie. Olivia was watching Charlie during the move. So that was one less distraction for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I want us to get what we like. What we'd love to rest on." He'd settled on. He just hoped it was something he and Ellie both liked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They both liked the good stand by&amp;nbsp;that looked like something in an Amish house, he guessed, with the black headboard. It was solid and sturdy enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We might could get a bed frame just as good at Wal-mart." Ellie shrugged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What? No." He winced. "We are not getting our bed at Wal-mart." He didn't mean to fuss about it as he started laying on one mattress after another. Finally he found one that was just the firmness his back needed. There was just something about the luscious pillow curve of it that was so comforting. It was a beautiful mattress. He smiled as if he found the one. Ellie laid still next to him. She was awful quiet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Are you going to sleep on me?" He lifted up on his elbows and looked at her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She yawned with a deep sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He asked the salesman then if they could deliver this one to their new place tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601568486597935223-1918172944418781782?l=elliencompany.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/feeds/1918172944418781782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8601568486597935223&amp;postID=1918172944418781782&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/1918172944418781782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/1918172944418781782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/2009/12/making-house-home.html' title='making a house a home'/><author><name>ellie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15854933369544818739</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17374976335099722604'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601568486597935223.post-8048881872079346487</id><published>2009-12-01T01:27:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-01T01:27:00.542-06:00</updated><title type='text'>lonely lonely life</title><content type='html'>Amanda had not gone back home with Elliot. It was confusing. And she still felt as if she'd walked away from a train wreck with no visible scars, but she felt the after-shock, and it was worse than a bad cold. Possibly because she'd cried so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ellie had been there when he left, and she did her best to make her feel better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I know it seems awful, right now, but just give it time, OK." Ellie talked about their new place. How she'd have to come and visit. And they talked about how Amanda had only two more semester to go of college. It wouldn't be that long til the baby came. February.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't know how you do it," Ellie said. "Classes. Babies."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Not very well." Amanda pouted a bit. Her eyes burned, and she wished she could sleep until February. "I don't think he's-" She couldn't even say it. Elliot was not going to marry her, was he? How could she have ever expected it to happen?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You know, it was all sort of a dream to begin with." Her eyes filled with tears once again when she thought of Elliot. "I don't know what he saw in me, anyway, but I was so crazy about him, I guess. Just an idiot. That's what I am. Why can't I stop wanting something, I can't even have?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She didn't get her answer then or now. But Ellie still cared about her. They were still friends. And Ellie was there to listen to her say every miserable thing about herself she could think of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here she was still pregnant. Kyle doing his best to never be in sight. She'd never felt so alone in her life, and then the baby kicked, reminding her...she wasn't alone at all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601568486597935223-8048881872079346487?l=elliencompany.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/feeds/8048881872079346487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8601568486597935223&amp;postID=8048881872079346487&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/8048881872079346487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/8048881872079346487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/2009/12/lonely-lonely-life.html' title='lonely lonely life'/><author><name>ellie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15854933369544818739</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17374976335099722604'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601568486597935223.post-6290489165983006621</id><published>2009-11-30T03:32:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T03:32:00.736-06:00</updated><title type='text'>can't let go</title><content type='html'>The day Amanda told Elliot about the father of her baby had to be his worst Thanksgiving ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not that Elliot liked Thanksgiving much. He really didn't. Usually, that meant eating too much, or getting sick. It was not his favorite holiday. It was just that solemn day to get Christmas started. And they'd been planning to get married sometime between Christmas and January 1. On the 28th to be exact.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He didn't know what to think now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He'd promised he was going to take it like man. He knew something had been bothering her, but he just thought it was being miserably pregnant. The fact that he'd done this to her. He felt awful about that. And now it wasn't his fault at all. Someone else's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He wanted to wash his hands of the situation. He would have. He could have, but really she was his best friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Best friends just don't do this to each other!" He told her trying to sort it all out. "Do they? Why didn't you tell me when, you know, when you got back? You could have told me!" His voice had been so raw when he talked then. He thought he'd lost his voice now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They had been alone in his car at the time she told him everything, outside Kyle's house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You would have left, you would." She shrugged as if he had a secret society of females just waiting for him. He didn't think he so. It would have just given him more time to get used to the idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I doubt that." He shook his head. "Its just, it could be my baby."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But its not." She was so sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I mean, you and me, before you left, we could have. We should have. That's what I mean." He was in tears about that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I guess." She winced tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But you were-" Air puffed up his cheeks and he blew out a breath as if he didn't know what would happen now. "And Eric! Eric of all people!" He shook his head. "I have to put up with that guy?" He was hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He doesn't want to-" She started.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He'll want something. He will." Elliot nodded as if he was sure of it. It was hard to even look at her. He felt so defeated. Didn't she know he was like his arch-enemy, or something. "Its his baby!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But I want to be with you." She told him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He still felt shaky from their talk. He hadn't told&amp;nbsp;her they were through. He hadn't told her anything, and now he'd finally got up the nerve to talk to Eric who was leaving to go back to the University.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So how's it going?" He felt like an insurance salesman of some kind as he approached Eric. He plastered a smile on his face, but really there was no reason to smile. If he had it in him he would knocked that look off Eric's face, but there he was with a cat carrier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I dunno." Eric looked as if he were ready for a bomb to go off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Have a good Thanksgiving?" He made small talk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You don't have to be nice to me." Eric finally said as if he knew exactly what this was about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I can't make you go away, either," Elliot said so restless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm sorry." Eric shrugged. "I wish I knew what I could say or do-"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What do you want to do?" Elliot glared at him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Are you going to marry her?" Eric wanted to know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I want to." Elliot winced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Then you should." Eric nodded. "I mean, I'll help. I will. Its just not so easy right now. I want to get through school. But I'll start up a savings account. Its not like I want to totally be out of the picture. I don't. But I don't want to be in the way, either."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elliot nodded. Maybe nothing had really changed. But it had, and he'd need time to get used to it. Yet it felt like a frigid wound in his chest that he'd have to get used to living with. That sort of pain was hard to ignore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601568486597935223-6290489165983006621?l=elliencompany.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/feeds/6290489165983006621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8601568486597935223&amp;postID=6290489165983006621&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/6290489165983006621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/6290489165983006621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/2009/11/cant-let-go.html' title='can&apos;t let go'/><author><name>ellie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15854933369544818739</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17374976335099722604'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601568486597935223.post-5660189645620982255</id><published>2009-11-29T02:15:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T02:15:00.514-06:00</updated><title type='text'>clicking in to place</title><content type='html'>Heath had his student teaching to get back to. Just a few more days and it would be over. It had gone so fast, but somehow, he'd come through it with flying colors. Still he was rather aloof with the students.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Naturally, all he heard from his dad while they were there was that he needed to get his applications out there for teaching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But, it probably won't be until summer that they higher, you know." He tried not to stress about it. Yet, his dad wanted him to get on the ball with teaching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The more you're out there the better chances of finding what you want." He'd said, but Heath wasn't sure if his dad knew what he was talking about. After all, he wasn't a teacher. Heath was hoping for subbing. He could do that. He could still live with Nick and sub at schools near him, but he still didn't have a car of his own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there was that other problem. Nick being outed by his ex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How did she do it, again?" He winced one more time after listening to Nick go on about it for quite awhile when they got back home even if Nick had texted him right away when he found out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"In the grocery store." Nick was mad. "Can you imagine that? Who else knows?" He shook his head. "I can't believe she'd do that to me. Tell my mother that I didn't like girls, anymore. And she goes on about how you're my boyfriend."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"She wasn't really mean about it, was she?" Heath didn't think of Kelsey that angry. She did have Kyle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't know." He shrugged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, at least you didn't have to say, 'guess what..I'm gay.' " That had to count for something. It was so cliche, he thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I guess." But Heath could see the stress on Nick's face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Look, they know we're together. They aren't that pissed." Heath nodded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I know. She said she had a lot of time to think about it. She seriously likes you better than anyone Rex has brought home. She says you're mature enough, but not, you know, old."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heath smiled at that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"She says she just wants me to be happy, and she thinks you make me happy." Nick smiled taking Heath's hand and intertwining his fingers with his. They kissed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really, it felt as if Christmas had came early this year. He couldn't think of a better way to start the holidays, being with Nick. Now if he could only be supportive, finacially. He really wanted a teaching job.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601568486597935223-5660189645620982255?l=elliencompany.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/feeds/5660189645620982255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8601568486597935223&amp;postID=5660189645620982255&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/5660189645620982255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/5660189645620982255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/2009/11/clicking-in-to-place.html' title='clicking in to place'/><author><name>ellie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15854933369544818739</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17374976335099722604'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8601568486597935223.post-2114729937061720954</id><published>2009-11-28T01:48:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-28T01:48:00.157-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas wrappings</title><content type='html'>Olivia was surprised things turned out as lovely as they did for Thanksgiving with Roger and his Mom's family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. his dad had decided to go to his new girlfriend's Thanksgiving which pretty much pissed Roger off.&lt;br /&gt;2. he had really been sweet lately which she hadn't expected. she'd even told him she was adopted, and he seemed so sad about that even though she told him not to be. it was nice to have him on her side even if he was pretty bitter with her parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So they'd made the best of Thanksgiving with his Mom and her step-daughter and his new baby brother. He even stayed home with the baby while Olivia and his mom and step-sister went shopping on Friday morning. She hadn't had this much fun in a long time. It was exhausting yet exhilarating to go Christmas shopping with them in the middle of the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I really like them." She told him on the drive home. "It really feels like, I don't know, girls night out when I'm with them. Without the drinking." She did get along with Roger's Mom, so well. She was easy to talk to. Full of laughter. A lot like Roger. "I hope it wasn't that bad for you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm getting used to it." He was somber though, but decided he'd drive back which shocked her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, thank you." Olivia smiled. "Thank you for putting up with me." She sighed feeling perhaps they were closer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You really don't have to thank me. We know who you really have to put up with." He looked over at her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I just hope you can trust me." She nodded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I do. Really. Believe me, you've trusted me when I doubted no one else would." He was serious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olivia nodded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I think Ellie's moving in with Lon," Roger said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah." She understood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We have to start thinking about finding a new roomie." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Not Bridget and Ravi?" She looked at him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ravi's really OK." He was good with Ravi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I dunno about Bridget." Olivia winced. She had nothing in common with her. "Maybe we could just wait, you know, until after Christmas to think about roommates."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Maybe." He shrugged, but she knew his Dad would be wanting him to find someone. Soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8601568486597935223-2114729937061720954?l=elliencompany.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/feeds/2114729937061720954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8601568486597935223&amp;postID=2114729937061720954&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/2114729937061720954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8601568486597935223/posts/default/2114729937061720954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elliencompany.blogspot.com/2009/11/christmas-wrappings.html' title='Christmas wrappings'/><author><name>ellie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15854933369544818739</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17374976335099722604'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry></feed>