Limbo Is Almost Over - Issue #13
Things are scheduled
In addition to the oft-heard refrain, "supply chain issues," there were a lot of delays due to weather. But we now have most of the big fix it jobs scheduled! The roof should get put on this Wednesday, the plumbing is scheduled for later this month, the carpet has been torn out and hauled to the dump, flooring has been found for a ridiculously good price, and we're even getting yard work done around the place. I am stiff and sore from it all as I write. In addition to digging, tugging, pulling, and planting, I was up on a 20-foot ladder today, thinning the peaches on the peach tree we have inherited with the place.
Writing continues
Even though I didn't get a ton of writing done this week, I still managed to scribble away at my pad of paper every time I had a few moments. (I usually carry a notebook with me every where I go for this purpose.) Got some good ideas for Chapter 16 of 27 down on paper today. I love this book. (Is that a weird thing for me to say?) I feel like it may be the best thing I've ever written in my life. Here's a little excerpt:
Leah Gibson pulled up to her house and cut the engine with a sigh. She rested her head on the steering wheel a moment then got out of the car and unloaded her suitcase. Once inside the back door, she threw her keys on a stand and peered into the kitchen. Shane sat at the table, staring at the wall. Gibson left her suitcase at the door and sat down across from him.
“So, Shane,” she began, “I got a call at work from the principal this afternoon, telling me you’ve been in a little trouble.”
His face twitched, but he did not turn to look at her.
Leah reached in her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper.
“These are the notes I took from that conversation,” she said, carefully smoothing the wrinkles out. “My son has been reading banned religious material given to him by a young lady named Jessica Henderson. Jessica is being taken to a psychiatric facility to be evaluated, monitored and treated. I need to keep a closer watch on my son to see that he doesn’t fall into bad company. Shane needs to report to his psychiatrist’s office once a month for a blood test to make sure he has adequate levels of his medication in his system.”
She stopped and looked hard at him.
“What did I tell you about her?”
Shane continued staring at the wall.
“Where is your prescription?”
“Upstairs in the medicine cabinet.”
Leah stomped up the stairs. She returned carrying the orange plastic bottle in her hand. Opening the bottle, she took one pill out and set it in front of him with a glass of water. Shane made no effort to put it in his mouth. Leah sank down in the chair, staring at him, opening her mouth to say something only to shut it again.
“Mom,” Shane broke the silence, “she trusted me, and I told on her.”
“You did the right thing, honey,” she leaned forward eagerly.
“I didn’t tell on her to do the right thing,” he laughed. “I told on her so I wouldn’t get in trouble. I don’t care about the right thing.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“No. I care about me. And mostly I’m a coward.”
He turned his eyes on her.
“And you know what she said to me? She said, ‘I don’t hate you.’ I just said the words that will take what’s left of everything she loves away from her and she doesn’t hate me. Or maybe she just said that to get me to stop talking.”
Anxiety spread across his face at the thought.
“So what happens now? I guess now they can turn her into a nice obedient robot like you and me.”
“Shane, that isn’t true! You’re upset and don’t even know what you’re saying. Someday you’ll understand that this is the best thing that could happen to her. The kind of beliefs she held are totally opposed to the way we live. They could ruin our way of life.”
“If our way of life can’t hold up to one feeble little girl, then maybe it needs toppling.”
“You don’t understand these things,” she explained. “You don’t remember what things used to be like. The intolerance and hatred all brought about because of a few peoples’ narrow religious views.”
“Just stop!” he yelled, jumping to his feet.
He kicked the chair and sent it flying across the room.
“Okay, calm down,” Leah urged, backing up against the wall.
“I’m so tired of this!” he shouted down at her. “It’s like I’m locked up in a cage and I pace around in the same old stupid circle. I’ve got nothing. She has more to live for than I’ll ever have, and now she’s stuck in some mental institution! She gets punished for believing something and I walk free because I don’t believe anything. All I do is exist and stay off the radar!”
“What could she possibly have that you don’t?” Leah protested. “Talk about a cage. She’s caged up inside her own silly scruples.”
“She’s got something to fight for!”
“Fighting is messy, Shane. It’s messy and miserable and, and evil.”
“You don’t get it,” he shook his head. “Why am I even talking to you?”
He turned and began to walk away, but Leah held on to his arm.
“We aren’t finished yet,” she said.
“Let go,” he ordered, shaking her off.
She whirled around in front of him.
“We need to talk! I’m worried about you.”
“Get out of my way!” he yelled.
She put her hand on his chest, pleading with him.
“I said move!”
He lifted his hand and slapped her face. She recoiled in shock, tears in her eyes. Shane stood frozen, looking from his hand to the red mark on his mother’s cheek. He slid to the floor and covered his face with his hands. Leah knelt beside him and put her arms around his shoulders.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” he sobbed.
She said nothing, as the tears ran down her face.
“I just want to live,” he said, looking up into her eyes. “Really live.”
“I know,” she said, helping him to his feet. “Here, just take your pill, okay? Then go on up to bed. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
She picked up the chair and set it back on its legs. He sat down, shoulders sagging. She handed him the pill and he put it in his mouth. Silently, she gave him a glass of water. Shane swallowed and looked back up at her with pained eyes. Leah laid a hand on his head and drew him close.
“It’ll be alright, son,” she whispered.
I guess "little excerpt" is relative... I hope I can finish it as well as it has begun.
Self-promotion is hard
Still trying to figure out the most effective way to promote myself as an author. It stinks. It feels awkward. But if I don't, nobody will read my stuff. And if nobody reads my stuff, did it ever really exist? Hmmm...
In the theme of self-promotion, I am back on Twitter and you can find me @AmandaBThrifty! Also, join Locals! Find my community there and join it. It's Nifty Thrifty Singer Writer. Thanks to those who have already!
Hope everyone has a lovely week. Until next time...