Staci Troilo's Blog, page 67

Laci and Del: Fireworks

It’s the first Friday of the month. Time for another installment of short fiction. You can, at any time, find this work or any of the First Friday Fiction Features (#FFFF), by going to the My Work tab, clicking on Freebies, and selecting the story you wish to read.

Remember that 2014 is the year I’m trying serial work. This is part 7 of 12.

Laci and Del: Fireworks

As Del pushed off the dock, Laci listened to the chirping crickets and croaking frogs, their cheerful melody a mockery when juxtaposed against her occasional sighs and Del’s sporadic mutterings. A bunch of them were spending the three-day weekend at Del’s cousin’s lake house, and so far, despite everyone’s determination to have a great Independence Day holiday, she felt the tension between her and Del as solid and tangible as if an actual wall had been erected between them.

A wall she could walk around or climb over.

The tension? She didn’t know how to overcome.

Jeremy, Del’s cousin, was one of those freakishly-smart kind of geniuses. When he was in college (which he started two years early), he wrote some kind of computer something-or-other just for fun and sold it to Microsoft for an ungodly amount of money. Couldn’t even legally celebrate his good fortune with a glass of champagne. The funniest part? He wasn’t even a computer science major. Laci wasn’t sure what his degrees were in or what he did for a living. She just knew he spent a lot of his time at Lake Latonka, the private community along the lake about an hour from the city. She also knew that, unlike the stereotypical nerdy genius, he was down-to-earth, fun, and easy to talk to. And, thankfully, he was generous with his good fortune. She’d been to his lake house many times.

Jeremy recommended watching the fireworks from the beach area. “Most of the residents are going to head up that way in their boats. The water’s going to be a congestion nightmare. You’re welcome to take the boat out, but I think you’ll be better off on foot.” And everyone joined Jeremy and his girlfriend. Everyone, that is, but Laci and Del.

“I just want some privacy,” he told her. “Is it so much to ask to sit alone with you, rock gently in the waves, and watch some fireworks? One last moment alone before life comes crashing back in?”

To Laci, it didn’t sound like he wanted one nice night before they went back to the city. It sounded like he wanted one memory to cling to before he said goodbye forever.

They headed silently toward the public beach area as the sun set behind the pines and maples along the shore. They passed a pontoon and a sailboat, and almost bumped into a paddleboat in the gloaming.

“Better get to your dock,” Del called. “Without running lights, it’s hard to see you.”

The guys saluted with what looked like beer cans and turned their vessel toward the nearest dock. They kept right on turning, however, and made a couple full circles. Laci could hear the mix of laughter and slurred swearing coming from their paddleboat.

“Drunk assholes.” Del slowed and followed them. “Shouldn’t even be out here if they’re drinking. Especially when it’s too dark for people to see them. Now we need to be sure they make it to land okay.”

Laci made out some shapes in the shadows coming from the beach house near their dock just as the first boom of a test firework sounded. The guys in the paddleboat yelped and one of them almost fell overboard.

“Roy! Larry!” a woman’s voice rang out. “Get your sorry asses off that paddleboat and on dry land before one of you falls in. We’re not hauling you out of the water this year. You hear me? Every year, same thing…”

Del sighed, then called out. “Ma’am? Do you need help? We almost hit your… friends, so we followed them over. Wanted to be sure nothing happened to them.”

“We don’t need nothin!” Roy or Larry said. Then one of them stood and fell in the water.

“Damn it!” The woman threw her arms in the air. The people she was with headed into the water.

“I’ll save you, Larry!” Roy tumbled in after him. Del started to climb overboard, but she waved him off.

“No, no. We’ve got it. Happens every year.” Laci saw that Larry and Roy were already being hauled onto the shore. Someone else had pushed their paddleboat over and was securing it to the dock. “Sorry for the scare and trouble, folks,” the woman called. “Try to enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Del settled himself behind the controls and they continued on their way. He also continued muttering. “Of all the stupid, irresponsible, dangerous stunts to pull…”

Another boom sounded, and a fish jumped and splashed beside them. It startled Laci, but Del just kept on going, apparently lost in his own diatribe. Laci put her hand on his arm.

“What?” he snapped.

“Stop the boat.”

“What? Why?”

“Why? You’re joking, right?”

He slowed the boat down and finally stopped it. When he turned to look at her, he crossed his arms over his chest. Tension rolled off him in waves more palpable than the ones rocking their boat.

Laci crossed to the other side of the boat and sat down. She looked up, where the first of the fireworks illuminated the night sky. They weren’t down in the beach area yet, and the trees of the community area partially obscured her view, but she was grateful for the privacy. Not another soul was around, everyone either already sailed or walked to the beach area for prime viewing. Boom.

“What’s gotten in to you?” she asked.

“To me? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve been complaining all night. That’s not like you.”

“What those guys did was reckless. People could have gotten hurt. Or worse.”

“And you aren’t the lake police. A few months ago that would have rolled right off you. You probably would have even laughed at them pedaling in circles.”

“A lot can change in a short time.” He didn’t cross to her, but he leaned back and watched the sky too. Another explosion of color burst past the tree line. Boom.

“And there it is.”

“What?”

“You’ve been different since Father’s Day. Maybe even earlier.”

He snorted. “Father’s Day? That was an eye-opener. But that wasn’t the start of our problems.”

She swallowed her guilt and was grateful the darkness hid what was certainly a telltale blush. At least he never found out she’d eavesdropped on his conversation with her mother. “Then what was the start? And what problems are you talking about?”

“Let’s just enjoy the show. I thought we could have the weekend, but apparently not, so let’s at least have tonight, okay? One damn night.”

“No, Del. It’s out there now. Let’s just finish it.”

He sighed and looked down, missing the firework that screeched into the air before exploding into an orange starburst. “Is that what you want? To finish it?”

“I don’t know what I want. I guess before I decide, I want some answers. Some honest answers.” The fireworks increased in frequency, but Laci stopped noticing them. She was intent on reading each subtle change in Del’s expression, each shift in his position, each slight inflection of his voice. She needed to not only analyze everything he said and did to be certain he was being truthful, she needed to commit it all to memory in case it was their last moment together.

He scoffed in derision and shook his head, then he turned and looked out over the water. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“All this time I’ve been wondering what I did wrong, and the whole time you’ve been telling everyone I left you. I can’t believe how conniving you were. You almost cost me all my friends in addition to my career. And you. But if that’s how you really are, then maybe you did me a favor. Maybe you aren’t the loss I thought you were.”

“You’re turning all this on me? Are you kidding? I never lied, and I certainly never left. You did both.”

He spun back toward her. “I did neither.”

“Then why does your mother blame me for what happened?”

“Maybe because it’s all your fault.”

“Ha!” she said. “I was ready to give up everything for you. My friends, my family, my career, my home. Bu you chose your career over us. And you didn’t even have the balls to tell me. You just left.”

“What are you talking about? I never left you.”

“Please. I saw you. I was there. You told me I had to decide by Friday whether or not I would move out west with you. And I was scared. I didn’t want to go. But I decided to surprise you. I gave up everything and decided to go. I broke my lease, quit my job, packed up, and went to tell you I would go. But to my surprise, you already had suitcases packed and were hailing a cab. You were leaving without me. And you didn’t even tell me.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Are you denying it?”

“Absolutely.”

“I saw you, Del. You got in a cab that Friday morning with luggage.”

“And I called you that Friday morning, too. But you didn’t pick up. And I continued to call you all weekend. I was out of my mind with worry. I thought something happened. I even called your friends and your parents. No one would take my calls. Then your number was out of service. I came back to town a week later, and you didn’t even live in the same apartment.”

“I told you. I broke my lease for you. Apparently for no reason.”

“I didn’t take the job.”

“Just stop, Del. I told you. I saw you get in the cab.”

“How much luggage did I have?”

“What?”

“Luggage. How much?”

“I… I don’t know. One bag, I think. Maybe two. Who cares?”

“I had one garment bag and my laptop.”

“So?”

“Is that the kind of luggage someone has who’s moving across country?”

“I… I don’t know. I suppose you could have had the rest of your stuff sent.”

“And my car?”

“Shipped.”

“No.” He sighed. “I told my boss that my fiancée wasn’t on board with the move, so I wasn’t taking the position. He wasn’t thrilled, but he agreed to let me stay here. I did have to go out to the West Coast office to interview people for the position, though. It was a spur of the moment thing. I tried calling you that morning, but you didn’t answer.”

Laci’s heart felt like a lead weight—heavy, cold, rigid. What had she done? She’d thrown away everything wonderful in her life on a capricious assumption, sullied his reputation out of bitterness and vanity. “Oh, Del. I’m so, so sorry. I misread the whole thing.”

“And you cut and ran without giving me a chance to explain. And like a fool, I wanted you so badly, I came back for another round. But you’re ready to cut loose again. You’ve been setting me up for another fall since March, but I kept denying it, ignoring what was right in front of my face.”

“What?”

“Ever since you made me dinner for St. Patrick’s Day, you’ve been pushing me away. So what did I do? Like an ass, I fought harder. I told you I love you. Did you tell me back? No. I forced you to spend time with my family, and you threatened my mom. Yeah,” he held his hand up, “she told me all about it. I don’t even want to hear your side of it. And on Father’s Day, when I tried to cozy up to your family? I found out you’ve been lying about me this whole time.”

“But I didn’t know it was a lie!”

He shrugged. “I don’t know what to think, Lace. I love you. Or I thought I did. But you obviously don’t feel the same way. So I wanted one last weekend before this whole damn thing imploded again. But we didn’t even get that.” He looked up, and his chiseled features were briefly illuminated by the fireworks above. It was already the grand finale. Boom, boom, boom.

“Now that I know you didn’t leave me, I’m not afraid anymore.” She crossed to him and put her arms around his neck. “I love you, Del. I’ve always loved you. I always will love you.” She stood on her toes and pressed her lips against his.

At first he resisted, but then he wrapped his arms around her and returned the kiss.

Boom.

She finished watching the fireworks in Del’s arms, content that the future she always envisioned was within her reach. When the show was over, Del turned the boat around and headed back to his cousin’s lake house. Laci’s elation was short-lived. She chewed on her lip and thought for a moment. Something Del had said got her thinking, and she was troubled.

“Del? About March?”

“Hmm? What about it?”

“Your work schedule got a lot heavier then. You’ve been a lot more stressed. Is something going on?”

“I thought we agreed to just have one nice weekend.”

“No pun intended, but that ship has sailed. Is there a problem?”

He sighed. “My boss told me that since I never got married, I can’t use the ‘my fiancée doesn’t want to move’ card anymore. I’m being transferred to the West Coast office. I have to move by the end of the year.”

So much for her ‘happily-ever-after.’ Now what was she going to do?

Avoiding That Sleazy “Car Salesperson” Feeling

I want to start by saying if you work in car sales and don’t employ any of the tactics I’m about to discuss, I both apologize in advance and I commend you. I’d also like to ask you to contact me; my husband and I will consider working with you in the future if at all possible.

I had a different post planned for today, but after my experience this weekend, I thought I’d discuss this instead.

My daughter is about to start driving. And she’s nervous about it. She’s already put it off for a year. We decided there’s a line between not rushing her and making her face her fears—and she had crossed it, so we’re kind of “forcing” her to test for her permit. The problem is, or was, before Saturday, I had a big vehicle. A really big vehicle. Wide, long, three rows of seats plus cargo room in the back and engine space in the front. It was like driving a miniature movie theater. It was really comfortable to ride in, and we all loved it (well, maybe not my husband, but the rest of us), but there was no way a terrified driver was going to drive it in a straight line down the street, let alone navigate turns.

We downsized to a much smaller SUV with plenty of safety features, including notification if the car leaves its lane or gets too close to the vehicle in front of it.

Not that we’re saying she’s going to need those features, or anything.

But that’s not the point of this story.

We once counted how many vehicles we’ve purchased since we’ve been married. We’ve lost count now, but we’re estimating around thirty-three. My husband’s first job out of college was selling cars for the biggest dealership in Western Pennsylvania. He later worked for the automotive industry. When we tell a sales associate that we know how the process works and we don’t want to waste time playing games, we just want the final number, we aren’t kidding. We mean it.

We’ve trained several associates, managers, and finance people over the years in four states. We’ve found a few who were easy to work with, but we had to get through the initial crap first. It’s a pain, but we get there eventually. We thought—let me stress, thought—we had a sales associate who knew better than to try to play the negotiation game with us. I mean, come on, we all had better things to do on a Saturday. We were wrong. This conversation actually occurred when he came back with a ridiculous number.

My husband: That’s an insult. We’re leaving.

James the sales guy: Wait. I’ll see if we can do better.

My husband: James, don’t bother. You know we don’t play these games.

James the sales guy: No, really, wait. (James goes in the finance room to “talk his managers down.” There is an animated discussion where James tries to look like he’s really working for us.)

My husband: James, give me my keys.

James the sales guy: No. Wait.

My husband, to me: Did he really just tell me no?

Me: (sharp whistle, everyone—customers and employees alike—looks at me) James, give me my keys.

James the sales guy: Well, I’ll let you hold your keys, but you can’t leave yet. They aren’t done running new numbers.

Me to my husband: Did he just say he’ll let me hold my own keys?

James the sales guy exits the office, clutching the keys like he isn’t going to give them to me.

I snatch them from him and take a deep breath, about to tell him exactly what I think of his latest proclamation.

My husband propels me out the door. He’s seen me make similar scenes in furniture stores and probably doesn’t want to witness another when he knows we have a long day ahead of us.

At that point, we were both in foul moods. Really foul moods. And neither of us started in great moods to begin with. (Why would we? We were car shopping.)

When we finally did buy a car at a different dealership (the negotiations there weren’t much smoother, by the way), my husband notified James the sales guy via text. He didn’t reply.

Why do I share this story with you? Because we all market ourselves every day. Some of us more than others. But there’s a right way and a wrong way.

The wrong way is standing at the door like a vulture waiting for carrion. The wrong way is holding a customer hostage. The wrong way is telling the customer no. The wrong way is insulting the people who come to you interested in your product or service.

The right way? Be welcoming without overwhelming. Be available without being stifling. Tell the customer yes. Don’t be insulting, but be helpful. If you can, be proactive with your efforts, and don’t necessarily expect anything in return.

For Writers:

Now more than ever, we all have to market ourselves to sell our books, our brand. Don’t be the car salesperson who offends everyone, taking over social media with only self-promotion links. You have to share information that will help others, promote other writers, be generous, and engage in conversations. Broken records are thrown away, fascinating artists are here to stay. How do you become a fascinating artist? Share interesting information about your genre and have conversations with other people. Remember, it’s called social media, not hermit media.

For Everyone:

We’re all looking for connections in our lives. We all market ourselves every day. We’re parents, children, employees, friends. We want to be the best we can be. We can only do that through open and honest communication, not one-sided braggadocio. Are you putting your best foot forward in all your relationships? Or have you become the sleazy car salesperson at home or at work? Did you maybe not even consider that your personal relationships have a marketing aspect to them? Let’s talk about it.

Are You Superstitious? Cross Your Fingers And Read On

Full Moon over Washington Monument || Bill Ingalls/NASA

If you’re a superstitious person, this must have been quite an exciting ten days for you. Last Friday was not only the thirteenth, but was also a full moon. (The last time we experienced a Friday the 13th full moon was October 2000 and we won’t see it again until August 20491. We won’t see another June Friday 13 full moon again until 2098; the last one was in 1919.2) This Saturday (if you live in the northern hemisphere) was the Summer Solstice (winter if you live in the southern hemisphere). These two events occurring so closely together hold a great deal of significance for some people. But what does it really mean?

Strawberry Moon or Honey Moon by npclark2k || morguefile.com

The June full moon is called the Strawberry Moon, or Honey Moon. The Algonquin Native Americans called it the Strawberry Moon because June was the month in which strawberries were harvested.3 It didn’t hurt that the moon sometimes had a reddish tinge to it. More often it was amber-colored, or the color of honey, particularly when it is low in the horizon. (And because this one occurred near the Summer Solstice, it was incredibly low in the sky.) This is the same effect we see during a sunrise or sunset, when the sunlight reflects off the atmosphere differently and we see the warmer colors of the spectrum.4 Our modern term “honeymoon” may have come from this phenomenon. The word dates back to 1552, when marriages were compared to the phases of the moon. The full moon was compared to the wedding, which was supposed to be the most joyous, or “brightest” time (hence the “honeymoon” period, because June was when most weddings took place). Now most weddings take place in August or September.5 But I doubt anyone wants to say they went to Hawaii for their sturgeon-moon or harvest-moon. (Alternatives are red-moon or corn-moon, but those aren’t any better.6) It’s probably best to stick with the June-moon name of honeymoon, even if June isn’t the most popular wedding month anymore.

The 13th falls on a Friday more than any other day of the month—in 400 years, 688 times, while Saturdays and Thursdays came in last at 684.7 Not much of a difference, really, when you think about it. And the superstition only developed because of the slaying of the Knights Templar on Friday, October 13, 1307, making Friday the 13th an unlucky day.8 Before that, some people considered the number 13 unlucky for various reasons, but thus began the fated association with the number and the day. Combining a full moon with a Friday the 13th right near a solstice? Isn’t that just tempting fate?

Not really.

Scientific tests have been conducted on full moons. They’ve proven to have no influence on pregnant women, crime, or physical or mental health. Strangely enough, however, according to a 2007 American Veterinary Medical Association study, dog and cat veterinarian visits increased by 28% and 23% respectively.9 Read into that what you will.

Sun Rises at Stonehenge by bigal101 || morguefile.com

Me? I’m not a superstitious person. The news said 37,000 people gathered at Stonehenge to watch the sunrise.10 Other than a glorious sight—and a lot of congestion—I’m guessing they didn’t experience anything out of the ordinary. But the writer in me can imagine all sorts of things that could have happened. It’s the possibility that’s fun to play with.

The reality is that during the Summer Solstice, the earth is tilted on its axis and the sun’s rays are directly over the Tropic of Cancer. That is the longest day of the year. (In the southern hemisphere, they experience their Winter Solstice and their shortest day of the year.) The reality is that the moon appears full because the earth is not in a position to cast a shadow on it and block any of the sun’s light from reflecting back to us. That’s it. None of these things impact our sanity, our behavior, or any external potential otherworldly influences. They are just facts of nature. The earth is tilted on an axis. It rotates. The moon orbits it. It all orbits the sun. We mark time. That’s all fact.

Anything else we read into these things? Well, those things are the reasons I love fiction.

For Writers:

There’s a whole world of regular out there. The sun rises. It sets. Tides ebb and flow. Rocks slide down mountains. Trees grow and fall in forests. Nature is responsible for so much that we take for granted. Ask the question “What if?” and see where it takes you. Look into the histories behind the things you just take for granted. Make up new “histories” for something. Maybe your next story takes place in a world where the most popular month for weddings was always May and people vacationed on a “flower-moon.” I’m not a superstitious person, but I do write supernatural stories. Things like what happened this month intrigue me. What’s out there that intrigues you?

For Everyone:

I hope you had good luck on the 13th. My brother was born on a Friday the 13th, so I can hardly consider the day unlucky. Italians consider Friday the 17th unlucky (despite many being Catholic, many are superstitious). I could never consider Friday the 17th unlucky. My son was born on a Friday the 17th. Personally, I think you make your own luck, good or bad. I’m wishing you all good luck this month. Tell us how it’s working out for you. Share your stories here. Did anything strange happen? Anything wonderful? Let us know.

 

1 http://www.livescience.com/46287-full...

2 http://news.nationalgeographic.com/ne...

3 http://www.universetoday.com/112456/a...

4 http://news.nationalgeographic.com/ne...

5 http://www.universetoday.com/112456/a...

6 http://www.farmersalmanac.com/full-mo...

7 http://www.universetoday.com/112456/a...

8 http://www.criminalelement.com/blogs/...

9 http://www.livescience.com/46287-full...

10 http://www.bbc.com/news/uk-england-wi...

Happy Father’s Day

Hubby and Our Babies — 15 Wonderful Years Ago

Monday’s post is a day early because it’s Father’s Day. I want to send a shout out to all the handsome, intelligent, funny, supportive men I know who are celebrating today. Many I’m related to. Many more are my in-laws. I’m married to one.

I happen to have a fabulous dad. If you want to read all about him, check out my post from last year here.

But Father’s Day isn’t just about my dad. It’s about all types of “dads.” The father-figures in people’s lives.

There are our dads. (Mine is amazing. See last year’s post for details.)

And our fathers-in-law. (I hit the jackpot. My father-in-law is the best.)

Our grandfathers (I miss mine terribly).

Our brothers. (I don’t see mine often enough.)

Many of us have godfathers. (I recently lost mine, and am so sorry not to have more time with him.)

We have uncles and cousins.

And sometimes step-versions of some of these.

And of course we have friends…

All of these men can fulfill father-like roles in our lives.

They are there for us in good times and bad. They lift us when we fall and show us how not to fall again. They teach, they laugh, they discipline, and they lecture. They understand the importance of football, fried food, frosty mugs, and freedom, and they’ll fight for all of it with passion and pride. These are the men who bear our burdens with stoic silence; unwavering strength; broad, dry shoulders; and open arms.

In every shape, size, and form, they are the dads of the world.

And we wouldn’t know where to be without them.

Happiest Father’s Day, to all the “dads” out there. May it be your finest yet.

Birthdays and the Passage of Time

So today is my daughter’s birthday. I can hardly believe that a mere fifteen years ago I held her tiny newborn form in my arms. She had a full head of frosted hair—dark brown waves with blonde tips. She was awake and alert, more alert than I was, and was doing more advanced things than the nurses thought possible.

She never stopped amazing me, then or now.

Sure, she was particularly clingy when she was a baby, preferring to be in my arms rather than anywhere else (not that I minded—usually). And now she’s fiercely independent and I don’t see her often enough.

I suppose all parents find themselves in this very position. When their children are babies, they feel complete exhaustion—and complete joy—and see years of their future stretched out in front of them. Then, before they know what’s happened, those years are gone.

Where did they go? When did crawling and toddling turn into gymnastics and dance? Loose teeth and pigtails become makeup and curls? Learning to read become learning to drive?

I blinked, and she was grown.

I’m afraid to blink again. She’ll probably be married and moved out.

Another blink, and I’ll be holding a grandchild with frosted hair.

Time is a funny thing. It’s the greatest joke of our lives. When we’re young, we have far too much of it, and it passes far too slowly. Everything takes forever, and our milestones seem far in the distance. We can’t wait until we’re ten (double digits), thirteen (an official teenager), sixteen (driver’s license), eighteen (an adult), twenty-one (officially legal), and then something happens.

We get a job. Maybe get families of our own. Time has sped up. We’ve hit twenty-five. Somewhere between a third and a quarter of our lives are gone. That clock? It ticks louder. And faster. And we don’t know how that happened. Not too long ago we didn’t even hear it, and now it’s become a nagging sound, kind of like a fly we can’t swat away.

By the time our kids are growing (or grown) and we’re evaluating our careers, possibly facing our last career choices in life, that clock is loud, no longer an annoyance, but a painful reality. And our kids are moving on, beginning to hear the buzzing.

By the time the clock is an obnoxious reality, we have grandchildren, maybe great-grandchildren, who can’t wait to start reaching milestones of their own. And we’d give anything to slow things down, just to watch them reach a few more of them.

Time is a funny thing, indeed.

Yes, fifteen years ago, the nurses put a squirming bundle in my arms, and I knew I was holding something special, something miraculous. Someone who would touch my life and enrich the world in so many ways.

I wasn’t wrong.

My daughter is an amazing person, and she’s made my world better every day she’s been a part of it. Happiest Birthday, my darling daughter.

For Writers:

We often get caught up in the lives of our major characters. We forget that our minor characters are there, not just as filler, but as vehicles to advance the plot. That means that we can use a combination of young children and older, wiser adults to enrich your plot. These characters, and their perception of the passage of time, can be used as plot devices.

For Everyone:

We’re celebrating today. It doesn’t matter how fast our clocks are ticking, it’s a good day in our house. We try to celebrate life every day, but today is extra special. Favorite meal, favorite cake, and of course, gifts. Do you celebrate birthdays in a special way? Do you make every day a special day? Let’s talk about celebrations.

Laci and Del: Hide and Go Hear

It’s the first Friday of the month. Time for another installment of short fiction. You can, at any time, find this work or any of the First Friday Fiction Features (#FFFF), by going to the My Work tab, clicking on Freebies, and selecting the story you wish to read.

Remember that 2014 is the year I’m trying serial work. This is part 6 of 12.

Laci and Del: Hide and Go Hear

Laci had been distant with Del since she’d spent Mother’s Day with his family. Well, she could hardly call it spending the holiday with them. She’d stormed out, taking Del’s car and leaving him to find his own way home, well before dinner was even served.

She never told him why.

He assumed it was the usual girlfriend-and-mother-don’t-get-along stuff. Cliché, but not too far from the mark. She and Nora hadn’t been the best of friends the first time she and Del had dated. But that wasn’t why she’d cut and run.

What set her off was learning Del had told his family that when their relationship had imploded the first time, it was her fault. More to the point, that she had left him without reason or way to contact her.

Like Nora had said, what kind of person would do something so heartless?

A total bitch would. Which was why Nora wasn’t happy they were back together.

The only problem was, that wasn’t at all how they broke up.

And, not one for confrontation, she’d shied away from talking to Del about what really happened with his mother. In fact, she couldn’t believe she’d told his mother to butt out of their relationship. If she remembered right, she might have even threatened her. Where did that bout of courage come from? God, she’d never be able to face Nora again. Not that she wanted to, anyway.

But Del had noticed that she was different now, more withdrawn. And he kept pushing for an answer as to why. Laci was surprised he hadn’t gone to Mommy Dearest for an explanation. Or maybe he’d been shot down there, too. So he continued to bide his time. Which was a precious commodity to her, one she feared she was rapidly running out of.

What she needed was some sage advice. What she needed was a talk with her parents.

Too bad Del insisted on going with her to celebrate Father’s Day with her family.

She got out of the car before he even turned off the engine and stalked up the walk in front of him,

“Laci!” Her mother met them on the front porch and embraced her. “Del,” she said, a little more reserved.

“Alice. It’s nice to see you again.” Del handed her a bouquet of purple calla lilies.

Humph. She hadn’t even realized he’d brought flowers with him. And they were her mother’s favorites, of course. Suck up. She saw her mother’s eyes soften when she took the blooms and knew the gesture worked. Damn it.

“It’s been too long, Del.” Alice held the flowers out to her side and wrapped him in a famous and coveted Alice Marks hug.

Laci wanted to scream. Instead, she asked, “Where’s Dad?”

“Where do you think? At the grill.”

Laci opened the door. “I’ll just go on back and say hello. Give him his card.”

“You go on ahead,” her mom said, linking her arm through Del’s. “I’d like to sit here with Del a bit.”

Laci bit her lip. She didn’t know what her mom was about to do, but given how quickly the thaw had melted, she didn’t think it was going to go in her favor. “Oh, um, okay.” Letting the door bang behind her, she made sure her sandals clomped on the hardwood as she made her way to the kitchen. Then she slipped them off her feet and hurried back to the foyer, crouching by the screen door to eavesdrop.

“So, Del. Can I get you anything? Iced tea? Lemonade? A beer?”

Laci panicked. If her mom turned toward the door, she had nowhere to hide in time. Even if she managed to dash down the hall, she’d surely notice her shoes lying in the middle of the hall.

“No, thanks. I’m fine.”

Relief washed over Laci, warm and slow, like syrup over pancakes, and thinking that way made her stomach growl. Smoke from the barbecue was drifting through the house, making her mouth water. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until her attention was on food. After making sure her grumbling belly hadn’t given her away, she forced herself to pay attention to the conversation outside. Not that it was much of a hardship. That’s why she was stooping in the foyer to begin with.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve cornered you out here.”

“Who could feel cornered spending time with you? I thought we were just enjoying the porch swing and the summer breeze.”

Smooth bastard.

Her mom giggled. She actually giggled. Laci rested her head on the door. She didn’t think she could take much more of that.

“It’s no wonder Annalace took you back. You’re such a charmer.”

The creaking of the swing chains stopped. “Took me back?”

“Well, after you left her, it was a big step for her to decide to try again. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Jackpot!

“I’m sorry,” Del said. “After I left her? That’s what she told you?”

“Was it supposed to be a secret?” Alice asked. “You could hardly expect her not to talk to us about it. You were planning your lives together, and then you weren’t. We wanted to know why.”

“And what, exactly, did she tell you?”

Powerful footfalls crossing the porch alerted Laci that one of them had begun pacing, and by the sound of the stride, she knew it wasn’t her mother. She scooted away from the door and plastered herself against the wall, hoping he didn’t peer too carefully inside.

“She said you were offered a job across the country and wanted her to join you. She didn’t want to go. Different options were discussed, and in the end, when she went to your apartment to tell you what she had decided, she saw you getting in a cab with your luggage. How could you do that to her, Del? How could you leave and not wait for her answer? Not even say goodbye? And how does she know you aren’t going to do the same thing again?”

This was far better than getting advice from her parents. She was going to get all the information she was looking for straight from the source, and she didn’t even have to have the dreaded “talk.”

But what if she didn’t like the answer?

Wisdom in the Darndest Places

Photo via wiki commons || Chris Moncus || http://flickr.com/photos/chrismoncus/...

My nephew graduated this week. We were, unfortunately, too far away and had too many local obligations to make the ten hour trip to see him receive his diploma and celebrate with him. We miss a lot of family milestones living so far away. But that doesn’t mean we didn’t take the opportunity to send him our love (and a little something else) and talk to him that day to congratulate him.

We kept the conversation lighthearted, but we tried to impart some wisdom to him in the card.

This is the start of summer, but it’s the end of his high school career. It’s the end of an era, but the beginning of a new life for him.

To paraphrase Dr. Seuss, Oh the places he’ll go.

We want to him to know how proud we are, but we also want to know if he’s ready for the challenges he’ll face. We want him to remember the values of hard work, determination, and morality he was taught. And while it’s important that he start learning independence, we also want him to know he always has people he can turn to for support.

Of course, we didn’t really need to tell him any of it. Not only did his parents and his grandparents and his older brother and his other aunts and uncles tell him the same things, this kid is the definition of dependable. If you’re worried about the future of our country, you can rest a little easier knowing he’ll be one of the people in charge of it someday.

In the novel I just completed (release date still to be determined), it’s not the adults who impart wisdom on the graduate, but rather the graduate who shares a few wise words via his valedictory address.

I think sometimes, as adults, we forget these kids are growing up in a different world than we did. They grow up faster, they learn more, they have the world at their fingertips from the time they are born. And while rushing through their childhoods isn’t always a good thing, the “kids” graduating today are leaving high school with more knowledge than we ever did, and with more skills and capabilities than we credit them with.

Maybe it’s time we stop and listen to them once in a while.

For Writers:

If you have any children or young adults in your WIPs, consider using them not as the cute secondary character or the subplot that complicates something for the main characters, but possibly as the character who offers the sage advice the main character needs to hear. There’s a reason the saying, “From the mouths of babes,” has been around for so long. Kids have a tendency to tell the truth, whether you want to hear it or not. Maybe in your story it’s not the wise old wizard with all the answers. Maybe it’s just a kid who sees things clearly.

For Everyone:

It’s graduation season. For all the graduates out there, congratulations! Celebrate, but be safe. And best wishes as you embark on the next stage of life’s journey.

So readers, what do you think? Do you have a wise kid in your life whose story you’d like to share? Let’s talk about it.

Memorial Day Tribute

In Memoriam… 

                     In Gratitude…

Photo via Official Website of Arlington National Cemetery

May everyone have a safe, blessed, happy Memorial Day as we remember those who died to give us the liberties and freedoms we celebrate today and every day.

Remembering Spring Fever

Growing up, this was the most difficult time of year. You might think that because I grew up in the north, any time after Christmas break was over and before the spring thaw hit had to be the most difficult time of year. Sure, snowy winters were cold and inconvenient, but they were also fun. For every sidewalk shoveled, there was a mug of hot chocolate. And there were also sled rides and snowball fights and just general fun building snowmen and snow forts.

No, the most difficult time of year is the second half of May. We weren’t allowed to wear shorts to school, and the rooms weren’t air conditioned. It seemed insufferably hot. I’m sure it wasn’t; it just felt that way because the sun was finally out of its winter hibernation, and we couldn’t go out and enjoy it. We sat in our classrooms, trying and failing to pay attention to whatever our teachers were droning on about. Which meant when that material was presented on the final exams—and all the new material would be on the final exams—we’d be woefully unprepared. We were too busy to listen. We were staring at the clocks (whose hands were ticking backward) and gazing out the windows (at all the fun we were missing out on).

Who could possibly concentrate on school work? A carnival traveled to my hometown every year near the end of May. My school district had a picnic at Kennywood, a local amusement park, at the end of May. The birds were chirping, the sun was shining, the flowers were blooming, and the grass was finally green in May. Once we hit Memorial Day, the public pool opened. And most importantly… school was almost out for the summer. Like I said, who could concentrate?

So of course, they picked that time of year to try to cram in the most important bits of knowledge at the fastest pace.

It never worked.

The teachers were aggravated that we all had spring fever. And our parents didn’t appreciate it, either.

I’m an adult now with kids of my own. I don’t force them to stay in, shackled to their textbooks.

They’re kids; they’ll only have this opportunity for a few more years.

They go to air conditioned schools in shorts, and they come home and have free time. In May.

They can do their homework when it gets dark.

I had hoped to never see the symptoms of spring fever on my own kids’ faces. The glazed eyes. The slack jaws. The vacant stares at the clocks. The looks of longing at the doors as the sun streams through the windows.

They don’t have it as bad as I did when I was a kid.

But I know they’re still counting the days until school’s out for summer.

For Writers:

Anticipation is important in fiction. Get to a goal too quickly and the reader hasn’t had time prepare for the event. Take too long to reach an objective and the reader will lose interest. It’s all about the pacing. Make sure to give the right amount of clues and foreshadowing leading up to an event or a reveal, but not too much unnecessary backstory or narration, and the pace will work itself out.

For Everyone:

As a child, did you also feel this was the slowest time of year? If not, what was? What about now, as an adult? Let’s get to the heart of the matter… leave a comment and we’ll talk about it.

Happy Mother’s Day

Me and My Kids… Oh So Many Years Ago

Monday’s post is a day early because it’s Mother’s Day. I want to send a shout out to all the wonderful women I know who are celebrating today.

I happen to have a fabulous mom. If you want to read all about her, check out my post from last year here.

But Mother’s Day isn’t just about my mom. It’s about all types of “moms.” The mother-figures in people’s lives.

There are our moms. (Mine rocks. See last year’s post for details.)

And our mothers-in-law. (I lucked out there. My mother-in-law is AWESOME.)

Our grandmothers. (I have THE BEST grandmother on the planet.)

Our sisters. (Mine happens to be pretty darn special.)

Many of us have godmothers. (I got a good one of those, too.)

We have aunts and cousins.

And sometimes step-versions of some of these.

And of course we have friends…

All of these women can fulfill mother-like roles in our lives.

And in turn, we fill these roles in the lives of other women.

They are there in good times and bad. They are there to offer advice or just a shoulder to cry on. They share family recipes, they’re always willing to go shopping, and they know the importance of chocolate. They understand the evilness of doctors’ scales and dressing room lights. And they also understand the wonder of a child’s first laugh, word, and step. In every shape, size, and form, they are the moms of the world. And we wouldn’t know where to be without them.

Happiest Mother’s Day, to all the “moms” out there. May it be your finest yet.