Storytelling

Finish the Story

I just love doing these. It delights me to see how other writers think. I hope you will want to finish this story.

Jennifer and Jerome had been married for five years and not been able to conceive. Because they were Jewish, as a part of their genetic workup before starting infertility treatment, they learned that Jennifer carried a recessive gene for Tays-Sachs Disease, a fatal degenerative of the brain and spinal cord. Jerome did not carry the gene. They were relieved to learn their children would not be affected.

During a rough patch in their marriage, Jennifer had a brief affair with a coworker in her Baton Rouge office. She ended the affair, confided her indiscretion to Jerome, and they decided to reconcile and go ahead with infertility treatment. Following a negative pregnancy test, Jennifer had invitro fertilization. In days, Jennifer’s pregnancy was confirmed. Upon ultrasound, the doctor was concerned her fetus was larger expected. Follow up lab confirmed the fetus was positive for Tay-Sachs Disease, Her pregnancy had resulted from her affair. Finish the story.

HardTime Marrying 17 b

Anya was shaking as she sat gripping the water glass, looking as though she might faint.  Joe took Sally from the sling, putting her on the floor.

“I ain’t no whore!  My stepmother handed me off to that devil to get me out of her man’s way.  I had no say than a cow or hog off to slaughter.  He tied me up and hauled me off in that damned peddler’s wagon.  He beat me and passed me around when he needed a bottle. That last night, he got drunk enough I was able to get to his pistol and fire a shot off at him.  I think I missed and finished him off with a shovel.  He would have killed me if I hadn’t gotten away, but I’m not a whore.”  She was furious now, clinching and unclenching her fists.  “I’d kill him again, if I could after all he done to me!”

Joe didn’t speak for a long time.  “So that’s how you come to be here.”  Pausing, he went on.  “Thank God the creek was high and we couldn’t get to Meadow Creek for the revival.  If you had showed up there, wanting to make a new start, folks would’a had questions after that peddler turned up with a hole in his head.  We got to come up with a plan.”

“I didn’t run off from one man just to get stuck out here bein’ your whore.  Just because I got nowhere to go don’t mean I gotta take anything off you.”  She was furious to be so near tears.

“I don’t want nuthin’ from you except you earn your keep and help out with Sally while you’re here.  You’re gonna have to lay low awhile to keep the sheriff off your tail.  The preacher is the only one who saw my wife.  If we just keep to the place, you ain’t gonna bump into him.  I never was one for goin’ to church an’ it ain’t likely he’ll have business way out here.  He might not know the difference anyhow.  It was dark an’ the woman was wrapped up when we woke him to marry us.

She stared ahead morosely, feeling a prisoner again.

That “Kathy Bates” Look

kathy bates in misery

Though it’s been awhile since I inflicted any mayhem upon him, my brother says it still gives him the “willies” when I get that “Kathy Bates” look.  I think he’s referring to the Annie Wilkes character she plays so winningly in the movie “Misery.”  To set the record straight, I love Kathy Bates and am delighted to be compared to her.  I find her personality sunny and delightful.  I don’t know what his problem is.   My brother and I had a few dustups as we grew up together, but goodness gracious, what children didn’t?  True, I had to set him straight from time to time, but never actually broke his legs with a sledgehammer.  We were raised in a Christian home and both knew Mother would murder us if we ever harmed each other to the point that one of us had to have stitches or a cast.  Money didn’t grow on trees.  Is there anything at all in this sweet face to suggest a “Kathy Bates” look?

First Grade School Picture

First Grade School Picture

Embarrassment

Do you mind if I sit beside you?” The girl replied with a loud voice, “NO, I DON ‘T WANT TO SPEND THE NIGHT WITH YOU!” All the students in the library started staring at the guy; he was truly embarrassed.

After a couple of minutes, the girl walked quietly to the guy ‘s table and said, “I study psychology, and I know what a man is thinking. I guess you felt embarrassed, right?”

The guy then responded with a loud voice, “$500 FOR ONE NIGHT? THAT ‘S WAY TOO MUCH!”

All the people in the library looked at the girl in shock.

The guy stood and whispered in her ear, “I study law, and I know how to screw people.”

Travels with Mother

Once we’d gone enough miles it was unlikely we would be apprehended with bathroom destruction with malice aforethought, I pulled into a nice looking station/store.  This one looked like it was progressive enough to have excellent bathroom facilities, which we sorely in needed by now, since Mother was the only one who got to use the restroom at the last stop.  For once, she generously, encouraged her daughters to go first, which we lived to regret. I’d have loved to have laid the blame at her door for what we found.

Marilyn, my youngest sister, rushed in to relieve her agonized bladder.  In three seconds, she rushed out, “Oh, my gosh!  You’ve got to see this!”  

She obviously hadn’t had time to take care of any business. As mother of two teen-aged girls, the manager of a call-center, and youngest of five children, it takes something special to rattle her.

Like an idiot, I followed her in.  Someone, a very healthy eater by the way, had obviously paid a visit. The nauseating smell of fermented feces greeted us as we entered the bathroom.  It was horrendous, but I’ve been known to raise a stink myself.

Upon opening the stall, I saw a perfect liquefied poop sunburst splattered above the toilet.  Obviously, someone in great distress had blown a gasket as just as they stooped to settle in for a satisfying moment of quality time alone.  The toilet fixtures, the wall behind the toilet, the floor, and the stall wall were covered artistically with a thoroughly natural medium. 

It doesn’t bear thinking of the condition of that poor unfortunate perpetrator of the masterpiece as she exited the store! We scurried out to tell the disgusted clerk what we’d found, only to find numerous visitors had already enlightened her.  That’s when we learned about the worst job in the world.  An industrial service was on its way.

Once more, courting legal problems, we decided to stand guard for each other and use the Men’s Room. Normally, I would have been disgusted, but compared to what we’d just seen, it smelled like a rose.

Hard Time Marrying Part 14

She gathered the children next to the wall in bed with her with the fireplace poker hidden the quilts.  It wouldn’t be much protection from an ax or gun, but she might be able to put an eye out before he got to her.  Fatigued, she leaned against the wall so she wouldn’t be caught lying down when he burst in.  Though she was never aware of drifting off, the sound of the man trying the door awoke her just as the sun was rising.  Peeking out the window she saw he had put a pail of milk and basket of eggs on the step instead of bringing them in like he had every other morning.   “Come on out and git this for them kids.  They got to eat.” Jack trotted happily behind him as he headed to the barn.  When she was sure he was far enough away, she reached for the provisions.  Unable to lift the heavy milk bucket, she had to take it out a dipper full at a time and wasted a good bit trying to strain it into a pitcher.  Filling the baby’s bottle, and struggled to change the wriggling child’s malodorous diaper before finally giving up to let her run free.   The boy tipped a chair and banged his head trying to get an egg. The eggs crashed to the floor. The baby howled in unison with her brother, though he didn’t need any help. She burst into loud wails faced with the hopelessness of the situation.  Clearly, she couldn’t take care of even herself in her condition.  Desperate, she opened the door to the man’s banging.  If he’d wanted to kill them, he could have sneaked up on them in the night instead of bringing breakfast to the door.

“If you ain’t gonna be able to feed these young’uns, let me in so I can.”  She had no trouble understanding his shouted instructions.  He got straight to work, breaking up cold cornbread into warm milk, since the eggs were lost.  Gesturing for her to sit in a straight chair at the table, he handed her the baby girl propping her between Anya’s injured arm against the wall and raised his voice. “You feed this baby.  You need to earn your keep.  That other arm works fine.” 

While Anya fed the girl, she sneaked peeks at the man, trying not to get caught while he crumbled cornbread into the boy’s milk.  He made no effort to fix Anya’s meal, turning to hear and shouted.  “Now when you git your fill, clean this mess up.  I got too much to do to take care of youngun’s and an addled woman.”

Anya lost her fear as her face flamed with fury at the insult. “Addled!  I ain’t addled!  I’m jest kind’a deaf but I’m a’getting’ better!  And don’t go hollerin’ so loud at me.  I ain’t off!  You’d act addled too if you got cracked in the head.  At least I ain’t crazy enough to claim you’re my husband!  Just give me a few days more an’ I’ll be out of here.  I just gotta figure a way to take care of myself and git to a town.”

The damn holding back Joe’s frustration broke.  “I’ll be glad to see the last of you, but I got a crop to put in and cain’t take time to haul your sorry ass thirty miles to town. Me and these kids ain’t gonna starve on account of you!  You ain’t nothing to us!”  He didn’t even realize it was the first time he’d referred to himself and the kids as a unit. “The circuit preacher will be over to the Meadow Creek Church in two weeks for revival.  I’ll take you the twelve miles over there and some of them do-gooders from church can put you to work or git you to town.  It ain’t nothing to me what you do.”

“I ain’t staying here another night.” She spouted, slamming her open hand on the table.

“Suit yourself.  Talphus is thirty miles east and Meadowcreek Church is twelve miles northwest of here.  Them church folks will be gathering after spring planting.  Good riddance!  Come on Little Joe.  Now, you watch the baby out of the fire.  Me and Little Joe got work to do.”  He grabbed the little boy’s hand and slammed the door on the way out.

A Hasty Exit: The Bathroom Catastrophe Unveiled

When I left you, the infuriated man had just escorted Mother in the convenience store, had a long conversation with her about how much he missed his sainted mother, bought her coffee and a snack, and made sure she knew where the bathroom was. Not a word in my defense dropped from her quivering lips, nor did she explain the situation.  I guess it was on a need to know basis and he knew just exactly what she wanted him to know.  I wish he’d hung around for the bathroom catastrophe she initiated next.

As I mentioned earlier, Mother’s bathroom stops are leisurely affairs, involving meditation, warm conversation with new friends from the bathroom, and meticulous hand washing. Afterwards she digs lotion from her bag and admires herself in the mirror from every angle. The minimal bathroom break is thirteen minutes.  She flew in ahead of the rest of us as we were making our selections in the store, since it was just a one-occupant bathroom.  In this than a minute she flew out, wiping her wet hands on her jeans. 

“Let’s go! Let’s go!”

“Just as soon as we go to the bathroom.”  I protested. “I haven’t been to the bathroom or paid for my stuff.”

“Let’s go, now!”  Catching that unmistakable look we’d all seen so many times in the past, we left hurriedly, despite that fact that no one but Mother had taken care of any business.   There had to be something terribly amiss.  Mother never got in a rush to get out of a store or bathroom.

The story came out as we drove off.  After Mother flushed the toilet, the tank kept filling.  Ever the good citizen, she removed the tank cover with the intention of jiggling the lever.  Overestimating her abilities, she dropped the tank cover into the toilet bowl, shattering both, hence her hasty exit.  Water had flooded the bathroom and was pouring out into the hall.  As we searched frantically for another rest stop, Mother watched for a police car to pull us over as our full bladders spasmed. I know Mother would have thrown me to the wolves if we’d been apprehended. 

Keep in mind, this is only the first bathroom stop on this trip.

The Most Fun You’ll Never Have, Kathleen’s Amazing Bathroom Tour!

image

Kathleen Swain and her daughters

Upper Left, Linda Swain Bethea, Right, Phyllis Swain Barrington

First Row Left, Kathleen Holdaway Swain (see how deceptively nice she looks)  Connie Swain Miller, Marilyn Grisham
It’s discouraging writing about my mother, Kathleen Holdaway Swain.  Despite my long, rich history of complaining endlessly about the trials of dealing with her, she keeps getting the best of me.  It’s made worse because I tower over her, outweigh her, and am much more physically imposing, but then, who isn’t?  I do my best to take care of her, and should I exhibit the slightest impatience, onlookers treat me like I am maligning a saint.  Granted, she is tiny, far less than five feet tall, has a squeaky Minnie Mouse voice, and looks like a delightful little old church-lady.  Though she smiles and greets every soul she meets, inwardly she is malicious and conniving, constantly plotting to make me look bad.  Sometimes it doesn’t take much.

Not so long ago, my sisters and I took Mother on a girl-trip.  We were laughing just before we got out of the car about the way she’d lecture us against potential bad behavior before she had to drag the five of us hyenas (her word) into a store or business. When we inevitably started to ask for stuff, anyway, despite her stern warning, she’d fix us with a look from Hell and warn, “Don’t start!  Just don’t start!”  That dried us right up.   

First of all, Mother is the slowest person in the history of Motherdom, in case I never mentioned it before.  As she walks along, she keeps a look out for lost coins in the parking lot and frequently finds them, additionally stopping to greet all passersby.  This was the first stop of the trip. I was hurrying ahead leaving her to drag up the rear, since I had to buy gas, thinking my sisters could keep her out of trouble.  Rather than dawdling with them as they got out of the car, she came running behind me like her life depended on not getting left, and believe me, it was not because she intended to buy gas.  She has four daughters to take care of that.  As a joke, she picked it where our conversation left off, calling behind me, “Linda, wait for me!  I want you to buy me…….” 

            Not realizing we had an audience of a couple in their late sixties, I called out behind me, without bothering to look, knowing she was just continuing our conversation from the car.  “Don’t start!  Just don’t start!”  Men in their fifties and sixties just love Mother, assuming she is just a sweet, little old lady, just like their dear mother.  They have no idea of the trouble she is capable of.  The man glared at me, striding into the store, leaving my poor, mistreated, little, old mother alone and uncared for, abandoned in the parking lot.  He took her by the arm and helped her into the store, making sure she had all the attention she needed.  He fixed her up with a sandwich and coffee, after fixing me with a scathing look of hatred.  I had no idea what I might have done till she rubbed my nose in it later.  I only wish he’d hung around long enough to know she was on her way to destroy the bathroom, literally, but more on that tomorrow.

To be continued…….

Grumpy Santa

As you can see, Bud has white hair and beard. It wouldn’t be a great leap for him to be mistaken for Santa Claus. One hot August evening we were in Target. Bud was wearing a red pullover when we stumbled up on a Christmas display. In his typical fashion, Bud launched into his familiar diatribe about rushing the season and the over commercialization of Christmas.

Amidst his complaints, I noticed a four-year-old boy staring at him in wonder. The tyke obviously thought he’d stumbled up on Santa in Target. I alerted Bud, who immediately changed his manner.

“Merry Christmas, kid.” he said.