here - Jersey Devil Press

Helena.
Her house was a powder blue cape. A red SUV sat in the
driveway. There was another set of tire tracks in the snow-cover
that led up to an empty space beside it. Since it was around two in
the afternoon on a Tuesday, I assumed her husband was at work.
“So, how will I do this?”
“Let’s make sure she is home alone first. Then you go up to the
front door, knock, and apologize. I’ll walk you through it.”
I saw shadows pass back and forth behind sheer white curtains
in the downstairs windows.
We watched for a few minutes to be sure she was alone.
I considered the absurdity of my situation.
I had driven hundreds of miles, much of it in the snow, which I
hate. I was now prepared to apologize, again, to a distant exgirlfriend
with the aid of a Cyrano de Bergerac-like talking tail.
I tried not to think about it too much, because it made me reconsider
my sanity again.
I thought about the story of Cyrano de Bergerac though. His
ability to romance women with words. His unattractive face. How
Cyrano helps another man woo the woman Cyrano loves.
Helena suddenly appeared in an upstairs window with the
curtains pulled back. She carried a load of laundry, which she
dropped onto a bed and began to fold.
“There she is,” I whispered.
Helena looked more matronly than she did in college. Her face
seemed to have widened a bit, as had her body in general. But even
from across the street, over a yard and through a window, I could
make out her thick dark hair and her long eye-lashed eyes. She was
still beautiful. She was still alluring.
“Go. Go for it. I’ll tell you what to do,” my tail sputtered.
Then it occurred to me: Cyrano. My tail’s plan. Helena. How
could I have been so stupid?
“You want me to get back with Helena, don’t you?”
“What are you talking about? Go over there. Now’s your
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