Oct 28

Oct 28 THE MATCHBOOK by Judie Maré

We squeezed a fortified manor house into the afternoon itinerary. England has one around every bend in the road, after all. Vacations away from California stucco and wood framed boxy condos built excitement for oatmeal-colored walls of stone, Oriel windows with wavy green-tinged glass―filtering a sickly light on my sister's face―and, a cursory curiosity for the chequered hall floor, faded flags of allegiance, and private grey interiors.

New to the roster of listed buildings, the pinched-mouthed owner proudly recited a 1558 date of construction as he followed us through sparsely-furnished rooms, his hair flying to cover a pinkish pate, to the last oak table placed before the way out, laid with paltry souvenirs contrasting the £5 admission fees. No postcards. We were his only visitors, you see. No photos. My sister asked the way to the loo. He pointed.

I palmed a book of matches. Its etched cover slid smoothly inside my purse as I waited outside. Motorway diesel fumes gassed my nose as I heard tinder in his voice, "Did you take my matches?" Indignant denial ignited my sister's cheeks as she marched towards me, her humiliated eyes burning. Not her. No, sir.

Leaving him steaming in stifled silence my heart blanched with unintended offense, and under our feet the crunch of crushed shale shattered words I could not yet speak. No buttress for her came from my lips. A matchbook of unsuspected consequence raised barricades in flaring microseconds. I shamed myself, hung up in a combustible hush, and hesitantly whispered to her singed persona, "Forgive me, Sis. I took that book of matches."

Words like ashes flew in ungraspable air. "But why didn't you defend me?"

My action like an enemy's, touched despair. Both of us knowing pardon and undeserved grace from the only One who can truly give it, for someone else new tears again burned her eyes as she heaped coals of fire on my head―in forgiveness―banked against feelings of hurt and trust I thoughtlessly risked and almost lost―a matchbook's most unmemorable cover, we neither dared forget.

Judie Maré

A California girl, Judie Maré grew up in the San Joaquin Valley, moved and absorbed seventeen years of Arizona living before returning home. Her love for those two states with her education divided between them, influences her writing today.

With four books of poetry published to date, POETICALLY INCORRECT, MORE GLASS THAN WALL, HEARSAY, and HIGH OCTANE ORGANICS, her fifth endeavor is in process .Her poems published in the National Library of Poetry-1966, Morning Song-1977, Calvary Chapel Publications 1990-1995, Shifting Gears-2005, E3RESOURCES.com-2013, and the anthology CAT TALES.

Retired from careers in fashion modeling, public relations and medical management, she resides with her husband, cat, and parakeet on a hillside in Southern California's Inland Empire.