Story idea
Brandwyn
This is a first draft of a story idea I'm kicking around. It is
written through the letters of a woman learning to deal with a serious
illness, to a friend. This part is in the middle. Is it vaguely
interesting? Would you want to read a story like this? What do you
think? Any comments appreciated, it's rough, but if you find technical
errors, I'll be happy to correct them.
Brandwyn
Dear Elinore,
I hope you are having wonderful holiday. I am trying very hard to
take your advice and accept what is, but this reality I am stuck is so
strange that I fear I am only taking baby steps. This weekend I had
resolved to try and do things that would satisfy all of our needs, but
we are all so different that it is very difficult. I will try to give
you a small glance into this macabre world that I/We inhabit.
Saturday was our birthday and we spent the morning doing something for
everyone. Gwen got to sleep in. Gwennie got to play games with the
dogs. Gwendolin got to work on the yard and thrill of thrill I got to
pay bills. This last was not actually a recreational choice, but it is
a rare occasion that everyone is calm enough for me to deal with it,
and I did want to organize my desk. On the way to the post office,
Gwendolin suggested that we actually cook dinner for ourselves instead
of resorting to our usual frozen dinners or yogurt.
The trouble started before we reached the door. We had not even
gotten out of the parking lot when Gwennie started demanding stuff.
"I want to get more flowers! We need to plant more stuff in the
yard."
Gwen immediately threw a wet blanket on that idea. "We are not
buying a bunch of stuff. We're here for dinner and that's it."
"We're supposed to be working on the yard and the dogs like it
when we are back there. You said we could be with the dogs today."
"NO" thought Gwen heading for a major power struggle.
Gwendolin, ever the mediator, chimed in. "We do need to put
something under the fern. We'll have to buy it from somewhere so we
might as well buy some flowers here. Then we don't have to remember
to get something another time.
"Fine," Gwen thought in a huff. She reached for some flowers on
the garden rack and started to put them in the cart.
"Not purple, we already have purple. I want the orange ones."
"Whatever," Gwen growled and reached for some orange marigolds.
"Not those, those are ugly. I want the ones with the dark center
and little petals."
"Do you want to get flowers or not?" Gwen snarled.
Again our own internal peacemaker stepped in to prevent a brawl.
"Ok, look, we can get these orange ones and then some of the yellow
ones that are just like them so that we can have different colors."
"OK," Gwennie agreed and we finally moved on to the actual purpose
of the trip.
I felt like it was my turn to get something out of the day. "Let's
have salmon," I suggested.
"No! I don't want any stupid fish. It has bones and we'll
choke. I want hamburgers."
"We're not having hamburgers and salmon doesn't have that many
bones." I retorted.
The internal temperature started to rise and Gwendolin tried to
comfort Gwennie. "We can take all of the bones out before we eat it.
Don't you like salmon? It's good and it's easy to cook."
"But Mark always makes fun of us when we have to find the bones. He
thinks it's stupid."
"Mark's not here and we can do whatever we want. We can pick out
the bones and you can chew the pieces as small as you want before we
swallow it. If we miss any bones we'll feel them first and can spit
them out."
"I guess," she complained.
"Great," Gwen interrupted, "Let's have spinach salad with
walnuts."
"Can I pick the dressing?"Gwennie whined. "I want this Japanese
kind."
"With spinach and walnut? That's sounds gross."
"Just let her have it," I intervened, tired of the constant
bickering. "Get the dill for the salmon. It's right here."
We made it out of the produce section and on to the fish. After
arguing about how big a piece we should get, Gwennie started in again;
this time about potatoes.
"If we have to have fish, I want those kind in the can like we used
to have."
"We have potatoes at home," I pointed out. "We don't need to
buy anymore."
"I want the new potatoes. If I have to eat fish I want the
potatoes!"
Gwendolin stepped in to give her opinion. "Let's just let her
have them. Is it worth a fight?"
"Whatever," I muttered to myself. Gwen found the potatoes and
started to get them. "Look at the ingredients," I suggested.
We looked, 300 mg of salt, pretty much our whole allotment for the
week, a bunch of chemicals that we couldn't even pronounce, and a few
measly new potatoes swimming in that stuff.
"Look," I said reasonably. "I'm tired of eating all this crap.
Why would we eat so much salt and processed stuff when we have a whole
bag of nice, red potatoes on the counter? Gwen can mash them the way
you like and it will be even better than these."
"Wait a minute. Why do I have to make mashed potatoes. I agreed to
make the salmon and the salad and that's it. I don't like cooking
for just me. It's too much hassle."
"You're not just cooking for yourself," I pointed out.
"You're cooking for all of us. Don't be so lazy."
Unfortunately this particular comment did not go over well and we spent
several minutes listening to a diatribe which is probably best left to
your imagination.
Finally we settled the great potato debate and I thought we were on
the way out when who should pipe up with another demand, but Gwennie
herself.
"What about dessert?"
"We have stuff at home," Gwen said.
"It's my birthday, I want strawberry shortcake."
"It's my birthday too and I don't want to cut up all those
strawberries. I already have to make the potatoes now that Gweneth
volunteered me for the task."
"I want a birthday dessert. David says we all get to have a turn
and I haven't gotten to pick anything yet."
"You picked the salad dressing."
"That wasn't a choice. It was your spinach salad. I don't even
like stupid old spinach."
Gwen sort of hissed through her teeth like she was letting out steam
or something and finally said, "Fine, we can have strawberry
shortcake. Do you want the angel food cake, or those flat things?"
"I don't know, let's look at them first."
So instead of heading for the check out we took another tour of the
store, first to the produce section to get strawberries and look at the
official "shortcakes" set up beside them, and then to the bakery
area to inspect the cake.
"Look at all the sugar and junk in this stuff. I don't like
either of them. Let's just have the strawberries," I suggested in
the interest of eating less junk.
"This is my pick. I get to say what I want! You won on the potatoes
and the stinky fish."
"Ok, wait a minute," Gwendolin soothed, apparently trying to head
off another round of traded insults, which was of course impossible,
but you have to give her credit for tenacity. "Gwen can make the
biscuits and then we don't have to put so much sugar in them. If we
make the whipped cream too, we can put in vanilla so there isn't so
much sugar in that."
"Yay" shouted Gwennie.
But Vesuvius had been simmering too long and erupted in a spectacular
display of public insanity.
"Oh My God!" erupted from us in full audio mode. "This is
ridiculous. We're wandering around arguing with ourselves about a
dinner which will take less time to make than this stupid shopping
trip. I am not making biscuits, and I am not whipping cream. I agreed
to the salmon because it is easy, but now I have to pick bones out of
raw fish, cut up fresh herbs, rip the stems off spinach, and clean,
boil, and mash potatoes. You guys are out of control."
I tried to get her attention. "Umm, Gwen, did you notice that
everyone is sort of staring at us and then backing away? You're
talking out loud and we seem to be having an adverse effect on the
other shoppers."
She stopped midstream and looked around. People were sliding by us
with sidelong glances, heading for the end of the aisle, their children
huddled close around them.
"Great, now everyone is going to think I'm some crazy person
wandering around talking to myself."
"Well, umm, technically you are since there isn't actually any
other body here."
"Gweneth , knock it off," Gwendolin said rudely. "Gwen, I'll
help you with the dinner. It will be fun having a real dinner for
ourselves. Then we can watch a movie or something and everyone will be
happy."
"I AM NOT HAPPY." Gwen retorted carefully muting the sound.
"Come on. Let's just get the stuff and then if we're too tired
to make the biscuits we'll use the canned whipped cream and just have
it with whole strawberries."
"But...." I tried to object, but Gwendolin shot me the equivalent
of a withering glance and I decided to wait until later to influence
the dinner preparations.
After that we finally made it home and managed to cook dinner, which
of course, is a whole other story. Suffice it to say, that picking
bones out of raw salmon is not only tedious and difficult, it does not
do much for the aesthetics of the dish.
As you can see following your advice can be quite vexing. Life was so
much easier before the "great divide".
With all my love,
Gweneth