Jasmine had been thinking all day of the last “date” she’d have that evening with Jonathan. “I can’t rest for thinking about what he’ll say, what names he’ll call me,” she said to her sister, Lucia. “Just imagine the worst names and there you have it,” Lucia replied. “Whore. That’s one of the names he’ll call you.” “It’s that temper of his,” Jasmine said. “You never know. I’ve been able to keep it under control quite a spell now.” Lucia shrugged and frowned. “I wouldn’t keep any date if I were you.” Jasmine gasped. “But I have to! We’ve been together for four years. I can’t just disappear. It wouldn’t be right.” “Wouldn’t be right? If you’re breaking up for sure, to hell with what’s right! Think of yourself for a change.” “Oh, Lucy. Why can’t you help me, give me encouragement?” Jasmine said, pouting. “Because I love you. Mom loves you. We don’t want to see you hurt when it’s possible.” “Oh, it’ll all be over with in two hours at the most. Let him rant, kick the tires on his truck or whatever he’s gonna do then I’m outta there.” “You’re outta there?” Lucia asked. “And him driving? You’re gonna come home with a black and blue face if you ask me. That’s my crazy sister for you!” Later in the torrid afternoon, Jasmine and her mom, Hilda, were answering a questionnaire that had been sent from Bogota, the heavily-populated Colombian capital, by one of the main radio stations. The form was a preliminary step to a live interview Jasmine was to grant in two weeks’ time. “It still seems like a fairy tale,” Hilda said, looking Jasmine affectionately in the eyes. “Our own beauty queen. You won fair and square, right here in your own hometown.” “I’m very happy, mom. Now, more than ever, I’m convinced I’m gonna go places in life. Maybe after the interview I’ll get some kind of TV commercial.” “You never know, dear. Be patient.” “Lucy says I shouldn’t go out with Jonathan tonight. But I don’t see how, mom. How can I just vanish or writesome Dear John letter?” “I think I know how you feel, honey. It’s certainly not an easy step you’re taking, no matter how you manage it. You have to do what you feel is right. It’s the only way you can live with yourself afterward.” “If only I didn’t love Ruth and Roberto so much. They’ve always treated me like a daughter. They’ve been completely happy with the thought of my becoming one of their daughters-in-law some day. That, of course, will never happen now. I’m sure of it. The one I know I don’t love isJonathan. Winning the beauty contest has helped me muster up the courage to face reality.” Jonathan picked Jasmine up a few minutes past 7 p.m. It was already night in Colombia and the truck ride with the windows open provided them with the thick sweet scents of the province’s magnolias, gardenias, wild orchids, and jasmine. Jonathan took Jasmine to their favorite restaurant. That part she was quite pleased about, although she couldn’t truly relax since she couldn’t stop thinking about the “talk” they’d have somewhere after dinner. She knew Jonathan would want to make love to her and had decided earlier she would refuse and not give in. The break had to be all or nothing—like when one quit smoking or gambling. Later they’d gone to a wooded area Jasmine was familiar with but one they hadn’t visited for quite some time. There, Jasmine explained to Jonathan that she needed time alone. There was every possibility she said, lying, that they could get back together in the future, but that such action would happen because they both wished it and not just one of them. Jonathan explained calmly, to her surprise, that he didn’t like her “need” at all, but if it was something she was determined to do, come what may, he didn’t have much choice but to go along. He did love Jasmine after all. He also knew he was in familiar territory. “Just one more time,” he’d asked, “or have you been lying to me for four years when you said you loved me?” “I haven’t lied,” Jasmine defended herself. “It was always true at the time.” Realizing she had to make love to Jonathan once more if for no other reason than to hush him up and be out of there, Jasmine acquiesced. As soon as she did, however, she felt uncomfortable. He was too much in charge, wielding all the power. As usual. She hadn’t planned it this way tonight. Why did women always end up weaker when it came to expressing themselves? During their heated love-making inside a thick blanket on the lush, Eastern-Plains grass, Jonathan felt his eyes well with tears. Only God knew how much he truly loved Jasmine. Only God knew about the many hours he’d spent dreaming of their future together, their families, the land they’d purchase near his father and grandfather to raise cattle and to embark on other endeavors. And if God couldn’t bring Himself to intervene on this painful night, he himself would have to do it, like it or not. At that moment he reached for the sharply honed hunting knife he’d placed earlier at the small of his back. Jasmine sensed his movements and stiffened, confused. As their lips touched again, Jonathan pierced the left side of Jasmine’s beautiful golden-brown neck. Then again and again, as he released the guttural sobs from inside himself that he could not control.
My second book is about a boy who has Asperger's Syndrome and is bullied to the point to where he shoots up his school. I have divided the excerpts from it into three parts: Before, during and after the shooting.
A teenage boy struggling with the coming-of-age issues of sexuality, religion, and peer approval is overwhelmed, but soldiers on. After several years, he comes to understand the family forces that have left him so deeply troubled, and the process of
