... Reagan Wilcox, post #3
I'm not worried, though; I know what the next chapter will be about. I haven't written it, yet, but it's right here on the tip of my fingers.
If you haven't read posts 1 and 2, yet, read post #1 here. Then read post #2 here. This is post #3, as the title suggests.
Chapter 2: The Thing with the Car
1
"There's was a problem with the car, yesterday," she told him the next morning.
"What kind of problem?" he asked.
"It quit on the way to the grocery store, and I had to have it towed to the dealer."
"Uh-huh. What did the dealer say?"
"I'm not sure what's wrong with it, but they said it would cost $600 to fix."
"You don't know what's wrong with the car, but whatever it is it takes $600 to fix?"
"That's what they said."
"And you paid it?"
"I had to." She sounded plaintive. "I have to have my car. Yours was at the airport, and besides, I can't drive a stick."
"Aren't you the least bit curious what could be wrong with your car that it would cost $600 to repair?"
"Of course I am." Now she was getting defensive. "They told me what it was, I just don't remember. That's all."
"Do you have the repair receipt?"
"Somewhere, I think."
"Can I see it?"
"If I can find it."
2
Her lack of attention to detail had irritated him since the wedding. Not enough to do anything about, just enough send him off that Saturday with a chip on his shoulder at her ditziness over the thing with the car.
But there was grass to cut, as there always was on any given Saturday between April and November, so he took his frustration out on the front lawn. Leah did whatever Leah did while he attended to chores; he didn't know. Worse, he didn't care enough to wonder.
3
When Reagan came in for lunch she met him in the kitchen with the repair bill in hand. He tried to look it over, but she invaded his space and wrapped herself around him, thus preventing his discovery of the car's 'sickness.'
4
Leah felt Reagan's anger when she couldn't recite the exact nature of the car's illness. It was an illness, and not her fault since she kept such good care of the car.
She'd had to keep the car running since Reagan had told her they couldn't afford two new cars at one time. She knew enough about the finances to agree that it was true, but still he shouldn't be so upset with her when there was a problem with her old car.
She'd found the bill—and it really wasn't that hard, it hadn't been that lost—and made sure he saw it as soon as he came in. But when she saw him she had such a sudden, disquieting pang of unworthiness that she pushed aside the receipt to reassure her most privileged position: inside his arms.
He smelled of freshly cut grass and some of gasoline, too. After the familiar scent of his brand of soap, his masculine presence was so strong she felt herself suddenly become wet. She wanted to hike her short skirt up around her hips and have him take her right there in the kitchen. Standing up, if necessary. But she couldn't bring herself to do it.
Reagan's arms went around her, strongly and warmly, and she sighed and relaxed into his embrace. Seconds dragged by, and he seemed to relent, kissing her on the forehead. He pushed her away, but gently. Leah, afraid to express anything like disappointment or (even) anger, decided instead to change the subject:
"You want lunch?"
He looked the repair bill over. Seemed to ignore her question.
"You hungry? I got some soup on the stove, if you want. There's ham for a sandwich…"
He never looked up. "Sure." He frowned then, but though her breath caught in her throat, he said nothing about the car. "What kind of soup?"
And Leah was relieved, for no damn good reason. "Campbell's bean with bacon. Is that OK?"
"Sure," and as Reagan walked to the breakfast nook table, he laid the car's repair bill on the kitchen desk.
It never came up again.
posted by Coogan at 10/08/2004 07:00:00 PM
3 Comments:
And to think I thought it was reasonably well edited before I posted it! Hah! (The writer becomes humbled, but only momentarily.)
Of course, this immediately brings a technical consideration to the fore: How do I edit this thing online? Mark up the original post? (I think I can do that. Well, I know I can edit posts, but I'm not sure for how long.) I really don't want to repost anything, but the perfectionist in me truly begs for the chance to fix something that's not right.
All good catches. Yes, there's a tense problem. Seems I do that from time to time. I must be slydexic, or something. Check. Can be fixed.
Maybe I meant "send him of to do his Saturday chores", but since I didm't say that, "start him off" does sound better.
She is still concerned as to why the car was so expensive, even though she paid the bill already. The key point here might be that he does not bother to explain what was wrong after he studies the bill. She doesn't ask him, either. There's something quite wrong in the Wilcox household.
It's easy to write lots of words. It's more difficult to make something short and to the point. My original intention was to tell the story with as few words as possible, though this piece probably could be considered a "novel". I may find I need more words as we get closer to our characters.
To your "plea" about not wanting X-rated pulp fiction: Don't worry, I don't need to be explicit, but the title could lead one to think there might be an adult attitude to the story. I'll do my best not to disappoint.
Look for something soon.
And thanks.
Obviously I missed an opportunity to explore more fully a truly broken situation. Your approach is eminently logical: find an expert you trust; follow their advice.
I didn't even explore why she didn't call her husband in Cleveland. We already know he never tried to call her. So, what's wrong here? She must feel very alone and (in effect) abandoned. What an awful place to be.
I think I may have screwed up in my characterization of Leah. Her mother thinks she could have been a doctor; she belies that by showing suspect judgment about her car. It's not necessarily bad judgment, it just doesn't convey to us the kind of person whom anyone would want as their doctor, that's all.
I should be chided for not having thought this through more thoroughly. But, of course, I started this blog to find out if I can cut it, or not. We'll see. I'm a pretty quick learner.
I think the term you're looking for is "set him off". This latest part fits in well with the story, though I had a Bridges of Madison County moment during the embrace. I read a book a few years ago that was in sort of the same style. It was awfully confusing much of the way through because I couldn't quite make the connection of many of the the scenes to the actual plot. Everything was loose until the last few chapters when things finally started to make sense and tie in to the main plot. I look forward to the next part.
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