Muffin Top

Muffin Top

  Copyright 2016 Meredith Miller

  return to your favorite ebook retailer to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support

  Other Works by this Author

  A Compendium For The Broken Hearted

  Yes

  A Haunted Soul

  Muffin Top

  To say that Vanessa was excited would have been an understatement worthy of criminal charges. She had done an acting class in college all those ten years ago. Using that training, the petite and yet sporty woman summoned all the scowls she could come up with, combining them into a theatrical visage of grump Shakespeare would have been proud of. “Honey?” she said whilst brushing her teeth, shivering only slightly in spite of the morning’s biting freeze.

  “Yes, sweetie?” came an almost immediate response from the man in the mirror. His creamy voice was the perfect ingredient for a cheesecake, and his strawberry lips curled into an uncertain smile. She almost caved them, marking in her memory the gorgeous curve his right ear boasted, but steeled herself and acted mean. He didn’t deserve this, she knew, but she hoped it would make the surprise all the sweeter.

  “I’m not feeling at my best,” She stated, putting an emphasis on the way her eyebrows curled up. He didn’t say anything for a second, then fidgeted a little, perhaps thinking of leaving the bed and coming to her. Instead, he looked at his socks in thought for a second or three.

  “Yeah, I kind of noticed you were acting a little off.” The look she gave him then made the man rethink his strategy. Instead of adding to his sentence, Mark put a ringed hand through his luscious blonde hair and said, “Okay.” He didn’t mention that she’d forgotten his birthday, thankfully. That would have been a bad scenario. It wasn’t like her to be moody with him, and the perky woman hoped that confusion would do the trick.

  The two got ready with far less chitchat than usual. Vanessa made sure to toss Mark a few dirty looks here and there, especially when he’d managed to get his climbing boots on faster than her. The man was so flustered that he didn’t ask her to check his massive bags for him, nor did he insist upon doing the same with her small one. Once the two were outside their cabin, however, the short haired brunette encountered her first obstacle towards completing that all important goal: she’d forgotten the lighter on their small round excuse for a table. She didn’t know why these places had those anyways. All they did was make you forget lighters, among other things.

  In order to get to the thing, Vanessa had to pretend she needed to go to the toilet. Mark didn’t say anything, other than offer to hold her bag for her, since getting out of the climbing gear was difficult enough as is. Care was needed in refusing his rather sane offer, so as not to invoke suspicion. That she did, and despite the man showing outward signs of surprise on a face so handsome it could have been painted on, no dissent was voiced. Still, Vanessa could have been mistaken for the insides of a watermelon as she re-entered the small log cabin, what with skin turned pink by shame coupled with freckles she thought hideous but which Mark insisted were part of a charm very few women could hope to replicate. It didn’t matter how long you were married: no one can stand being embarrassed before his crush. A few years into their marriage, she still had a crush on Mark.

  As she left the front door carefully shut behind her, the woman cast her eyes towards the left. Taking a few stops forwards, she turned in the middle of the road. There were more men and women around now, seeming slightly greyish in incomplete morning as they went to and fro, some dropping smiles or greetings. The icy dirt road was framed by cabins and climber services on both sides. About fifty feet away stood Mark, facing her and looking perfect whilst smiling at what must have been a lingering hint of watermelon on her. There was an ever-present drift of snowflakes here, but it was minimized just then and seemed like feathers carried by a breeze. Each feather was beautiful and magical, floating like a cold morning kiss. She could see a massive peak, hiding the sun and looking like a lone eagle’s talon. The peak almost created a backdrop of its own, for it almost covered the horizon. It was the perfect morning for a surprise.

  “Ready, sweetheart?” asked Mark when she got to him. Despite painful resistance, her face revealed a happy smile.

  “Ready,” she confirmed. There was only one hurdle left, and it would have nothing to do with her efforts.

  Sritt was a dangerous mountain to climb, and there was a checkpoint you needed to be let through in order to attempt it. They had already gone through many, and so happened now upon the last. Beyond this point there would be little in the way of aid for the lost or stranded. This meant that checks were rigorous. If they were told to open their bags, Vanessa’s plan would fail and she would receive a stern talking to. The possibility of that happening was mortifying, but there was a good chance…

  Luckily, the guard at checkpoint C where they attempted to pass was someone Mark knew from his earlier climbs, and the couple was waved through with a good natured joke. Vanessa had her breath held the whole time, and so had missed the punch line. She was then forced to sit there like an idiot while Mark and the friendly guard chuckled. The love of her life, being a considerate and patient man, didn’t do that stupid thing some husbands choose to and apologize for her like she was a child, but he did offer Steven an apologetic smile. Then suddenly, all thoughts left her mind save for two.

  The first thought was the anticipation she felt about surprising Mark. Despite it not being his birthday, they weren't climbing fifteen days ago, and she was sure that he would love it. If all went well, they would be atop Sritt within the day, and she would spring it then. The small can of gas felt heavy in her bag, but Vanessa knew the weight to be normal, when balanced against the usual equipment mountain climbers had to haul along. It was all worth seeing the surprise on forgetful mountain loving Mark Rotstein’s face. Naturally, the second thought occupying Vanessa’s mind was the thrill of the upcoming climb. A shudder of freedom took over as she was once again beyond civilization, with nothing but a literal white mountain between them and standing higher than clouds.

  Slowly but surely, the two began to climb. At first with just their feet, soon hands and tools were deployed as every trick was used. Vanessa’s breath began to labor, and in a short while her husband’s followed. They said little, but neither wished for solitude. There was something oppressively frightening about the sheer physical presence of Sritt. If it were to shift but a few inches, both would plummet. There was reassurance to be found in facing this behemoth next to her husband, even if both were savoring a certain personal struggle at the same time. Vanessa chuckled and thought, that’s what best friends are for. The sound caused Mark to turn around, but she waved him onward.

  For a while, Vanessa’s heart had been rent asunder because she found out Mark refused to call her his best friend. It may seem like a small thing, but was more like a physical blow than anything else, because she had taken it to mean he didn’t like her as much as he liked someone else. She had tried to come closer to his hobbies, enjoyed his music, and tried her absolute best to make her best friend and lover enjoy her company to the absolute fullest. Nothing had worked, and she remembered feeling sad in bed one day, wondering if he should be with someone he truly enjoyed. She'd wished she were someone else, which is a rather bad feeling to have when one is supposed to always love oneself. If only she liked instrumental music or pasta, she’d thought.

  It took a patient man and a heartfelt explanation to remedy the brunette’s deep sense of inadequacy. Then again, a deep sense of inadequacy can really only be alleviated by a truly caring and patient individual. He’d told her that he isn’t able to call her his best friend because she was his favorite friend. She was his lover and his wife and the best person he knew. Moreover, he enjoyed
doing the most boring things with her far more than he would enjoy doing anything with anybody else, even his best friend. “I swear,” he’d said with a laugh, almost making her cry, “I’d felt there was something wrong with your mood, but didn’t think it was this. Baby, I would rather be with you at your worst than with anybody else at their best. You’re my favorite person in the whole world, and I love you to the moon and back.”

  “All the way?” she’d asked, holding in a sniffle because she was a strong confidant woman, dammit.

  “Everyday. If we weren’t married, I’d call you my best friend, but now you’re my wife and lover, nothing less.”

  Him repeating that a few thousand times had worked.

  Just then, Mark intruded into Vanessa’s thoughts. He pointed at a bird soaring far below them. At that distance, it could have been a speck. Far below the speck were the lines of multiple lesser