I’m really having a lot of fun writing fiction, but I’m also super insecure about it, because it is quite new to me. Other than some creative writing classes almost a decade ago (in which I mostly wrote non-fiction stories from my life or silly sonnets about Chiclets and poems about my hatred for Snood and such), my experience in fiction is minimal. So if you read this…and like this…PLEASE tell me! 🙂 If you don’t like this…you can tell me that too. Just, you know…be nice about it. No one likes a Debbie Downer.
She waited patiently at the airport gate. Home. I’m going home. She hadn’t been home in years. She worked so hard to get here. The person she was as a teenager was long gone. The girl she was before Sam…Who? I don’t even remember her. He will. He’ll want me to be her. He’s married. Admitting them for the first time, even in her head, the words hit her like a ton of bricks.
She heard over the loud speakers, Boarding flight 1-9-2-5. Last call for boarding flight 1-9-2-5. Mel stood and walked toward the gate. Home.
She had written two letters last week. Two carefully penned letters. Two very different
letters to Jack.
It’s been so long, I hardly know where to begin. I know that I left abruptly. I’m so sorry. I fucked up. I got into some trouble and I didn’t want you to know. I spent a year in a juvenile detention center for the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.
I graduated with honors, though, and went on to a community college. I worked so
hard, Jack. Just like you. Just like you always thought I would. You would have been so proud of me, I know it. After I got my associate’s degree, I found a really great job. I was working for a generous and patient guy, who taught me everything there is to know about restaurant management.
And then I fucked up again, Jack. My boss, Michael, was something of a player. He only hit on me once, and I told him that a better use of his time was to teach me the how to run a restaurant or seven. I thought of how proud you would be. He admired my aspirations and drive, so he never tried anything again. But he had a little brother…who learned from the master of players.
When Michael lost the manager of one of his restaurants, he gave me the position. I
trained officially with his brother, Ben. I think I fell in love, Jack. But Ben was bad news. I just…I didn’t know it then.
I’m sorry; I’ve gotten away with my thoughts. I’m coming home. I really want to see you, Jack. I miss you.
There was so much more that she could say. Jack, I’m trying so hard to make you proud of me. I didn’t want to come home until I was worthy of your pedestal. I’m pregnant with an asshole’s child. A lying, cheating asshole who wanted to pay me off to “get rid of it?” The same guy who got me fired from the only job I was ever really good at? I have nothing and no one, so now I need you? Help me. Jack, I want to be amazing, but the only thing I’m great at is fucking up?
But she did not. She could not. She would never even send the first letter. Let alone add more to it. How do I tell my best friend that I’m not even close to the girl that he thinks I am? I always wanted to be that girl. But I couldn’t. I’m not. That’s why I left. Maybe I shouldn’t go home. There’s nothing there but an empty house and a broken heart. NO. I have to go. I WANT to go. Maybe he’ll still be there. For me. I need a friend. Desperately.
So she wrote a shorter letter. She wrote the words that she needed to write. She told him. That’s all she needed to say.
There is so much that I want to tell you. I know that I’ve been gone for a long time, but I’m coming home.
I really want to see you, Jack. I miss you.
The second is the letter that found its way to Jack. Three sentences. Three dangerous
She is coming home. Home. Jack paused for a minute before he could breathe again. Why now? He tried so hard to keep her out of his thoughts. But sometimes, he just couldn’t. She was there. And she would be home soon.
The story continues with The Rock.
I hope you’re enjoying the story so far. Now, go visit my fiction writing friends, The Fearless Fiction Femmes:
- Grass Oil by Molly Field
- It’s a Dome Life
- DeBie Hive
- Near Genius
- The Suds Box
- Clearly Kristal
- World’s Worst Mom
- Susanne’s World
I can’t wait to see where this goes. 🙂
Neither can I! I’ve got ideas, but they keep changing. I hope it’s going to a good place!
I believe you’re on to something here, but haven’t figured it out. I like the story though, the background, it’s got legs. the conflict. poor melanie. we all try so hard to make the right choices. nicely played!
I like that I’m building a background in the hopes that the story will eventually write itself. I’m wishful like that.
I believe that too. We can be wishful together. 🙂
Tormented Mel, I am curious to know how she will get out of this one…:)
She’s resilient. I think she’ll do okay…but we shall see.
Chrissy: This had me wanting MORE. Molly is right – there is something more here – there is a core of a juicy, captivating story – which is dying to be continued. Such a cliffhanger with this post. Nicely done!
Thanks! I hope that I can keep the momentum going with it.
FUC-N-A!!!! Chrissy. You have GOT to keep writing this. Hell yeah there is something more There has got be something more. Well done… well bloody done!
Hahahaha! I love you. 🙂 I shall indeed. I’m going to try to pen as much background as I can and turn it into a novel. We’ll see where it goes!
I’m actually starting to feel really sorry for Jack. This girl just sounds like a giant train wreck. And now she’s pulling into his station…
Heh. I feel really sorry for both of them. And I’ve got ideas building up in my head…it’s going to get rocky before the train starts coasting…
More! I am soooo intrigued!!
I can really relate to writing a long, detailed letter to someone and then cutting it down to three sentences just to be safe. I feel for both of these characters. The anxiety is palpable.
I can’t tell you how many times I wrote those and then never sent them…
Just now catching up! What a mess. We women sure can be a lot of trouble!
Yes, we are. Poor Jack.