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another scene from Sweet William
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another scene from Sweet William |
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Martie
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Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California 
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Chapter 13 A child’s job is to play. Sometimes it’s hard work. “Hey dad, catch.” Tim stood in the front yard under the avocado tree holding a base ball. A shaft of sunlight lit his hair and his long spindly legs were tan from the sun. He was wearing shorts and a tea shirt with a picture of Mickey Mouse on the front. There were three band aids on his right shin. He was bare foot. William was tired. He had had a busy day. Since his father’s death he had taken over the three garages. The grease and the engine cranking labor of a car doctor, that he had enjoyed as an employee, was gone. He had taken for granted the smooth operation of the business. It had always been that way---smooth, with a nice pay check at the end of the week. His son’s words reminded him of the disaster from the week before. “I’m not a business man,” he told Samantha on that day. “I was never good at math.” He was sitting at the kitchen table where he had brought all the paper work from the garage. Spiral notepads and file folders littered the table top. There were boxes on the floor of all the old accounts. “Gotta keep these for seven years,” he remembered his dad telling him. Samantha was moving around the boxes trying to put the groceries away. She had a container of macaroni and cheese in her hand and was reaching up to a shelf across one of the cardboard boxes at her feet but couldn’t quite reach. She had turned and looked at William. He remembered thinking how pretty she was. The curve of her breast caught in this graceful movement, like a dancer, her slender waist visible as her blouse pulled up. He could see the delicate crease down the middle of her back. He suddenly wanted her, wanted to run his hand down the small of her back, push the boxes away and lay with her on the kitchen floor. He thought that then all the chaos that he felt growing inside him would calm and the world would be right again. He reached his hand up to touch her back just as she pushed the macaroni and cheese in place in the cupboard. “Help me,” she said, then down came the large can of pork and beans and the jar of peanut butter, and barely missed her sandled foot. A glass jar of spaghetti sauce flew in slow motion toward the tile counter top. William, who was poised to touch Samantha, tried to catch it, but the card board box was in his way too. The jar hit the sink and he could hear a sharp crack of glass, then it fell into pieces on the floor, showering everything with shards of glass, tomato sauce and tiny sliced mushrooms. “Catch dad,” Tim called again. “Are you alright?” William asked Samantha. She had dots and globs of red on her legs and arms. A mushroom clung to her blouse. He could see the rise and fall of her breast beneath it and suddenly he had an overpowering urge to laugh. “I think so,” Samantha answered, looking down at herself. “Good,” he said. “Oh, my gosh, look at this me…” He couldn’t get any more words out. The laughter had come from deep inside and exploded like the spaghetti sauce, first softly and then louder until his sides ached and tears were pouring down his face. Samantha looked stunned. Then her lip twitched and she smiled and caught William’s laughter with her own in a duet that had them in each other’s arms rocking back and forth with their mirth. Finally, as the laughter subsided William wiped a fleck of sauce from her cheek, and licked it off his finger. They were still holding each other amid the clutter of the kitchen. He touched her lip with his finger, kissed a tear from the crease beside her nose, then kissed her lips. Everything will be alright now, William had thought. Tim’s voice was growing impatient. “Dad, catch the ball, okay.” “Tim,” William said. “I just got home. Give a guy a chance to change his clothes and wash up. I’ll be out in a minute, okay?” He tried to keep his voice pleasant but he could hear the edge to it and could see the hurt in Tim’s eyes. Samantha was in the kitchen chopping vegetables for a salad. “Hi honey,” she said. “How was your day?” She was wearing her old sweat pants and a tee shirt and was barefoot like Tim. Her blond hair was tied back in a pony tail and her face was clean and shinny without makeup. She looked like she was still in high school. “I’m bushed,” William said. “Sit down here darlin and let me ease those aching muscles,” she said as she pulled out a chair. William sat down and watched her wipe her hands on a towel and put the salad in the refrigerator. He closed his eyes as she came around behind him and started kneading at the muscles in his neck. She was humming softly. It was a song she sang to Tim at night, a bed time lullaby, an always asked for tradition, ‘All the pretty little ponies.’ Her hands were soft and cool and her touch was firm. When she finally stopped, he didn’t want her too. “I gotta finish dinner and I think you got a boy out there waiting for you”, she said. William went into the bedroom with the intention of changing his clothes. The bed looked so inviting. I’ll just lay here for a minute he thought, and stretched out. In a minute he was asleep. He didn’t hear Tim’s final call in the open front door, or hear Samantha later as she peeked in. When he finally woke that evening and looked at the clock he saw that it was 8:30. He felt disoriented and dirty. He cold smell the grease on his hands and his mouth tasted bad. He cold hear the soft sound of the television from the living room and something else. He could hear Samantha’s singing in the other bedroom. “All the pretty little ponies,” she sang. He got up and went to the door of Tim’s room. Samantha turned as she heard him and put her finger to her lips. “Shh, he’s asleep,” she whispered. Tim was lying on his side curled around his hand which rested under his chin and still was encased in the mit he had been wearing. The baseball was on the bedside table. William walked in and bent over Tim. He wanted to touch him but knew that would wake him. “I’m sorry, sport,” he whispered, then turned and left the room. A feeling of deep sadness grew in him as he took a shower and put on his robe and padded into the kitchen. Samantha was sitting at the table. A plate of hot food was in front of the other chair where William sat down. “He waited all evening for you to wake up, William. He went outside once and said there was a big moon, that you could still play catch. I tried to explain how tired you were, how hard you work.” “What did he say?” William asked. “He said he worked hard too, but he still wanted to play ball with you.” How many times had he had to stay late at the garage? How many baseball games and dinners had he missed? He had wanted to be successful. He was sure that he had wanted that for Samantha and Tim also. If he was successful then they would be happy. If he brought home enough money then they could have the things they wanted. Had he ever asked them what they wanted? He didn’t think so. It came down to something as simple as playing catch and a trip to the mountains. What good was his job and money if it robbed him of time? Where was his self respect from hard work when he was too tired to listen? He had needed to mend fences alright. |
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Janet Marie Member Laureate
since 2000-01-22
Posts 18554 |
She had turned and looked at William. He remembered thinking how pretty she was. The curve of her breast caught in this graceful movement, like a dancer, her slender waist visible as her blouse pulled up. He could see the delicate crease down the middle of her back. He suddenly wanted her, wanted to run his hand down the small of her back, push the boxes away and lay with her on the kitchen floor. He thought that then all the chaos that he felt growing inside him would calm and the world would be right again. He reached his hand up to touch her back just as she pushed the macaroni and cheese in place in the cupboard. "Help me," she said, then down came the large can of pork and beans and the jar of peanut butter, and barely missed her sandled foot. A glass jar of spaghetti sauce flew in slow motion toward the tile counter top. William, who was poised to touch Samantha, tried to catch it, but the card board box was in his way too. The jar hit the sink and he could hear a sharp crack of glass, then it fell into pieces on the floor, showering everything with shards of glass, tomato sauce and tiny sliced mushrooms ======================================= You wrote this so that I was there...sight, sound, scent...and could feel their emotions rising up in the room...the whole feeling of what each character was going thru. I am so enjoying seeing my fave poets work in this extended showing of talent... you already know this..but I love the way you write!! "how about how good it feels to finally forgive you" |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
I too heard the saucy tomatoes hit not only the floor, but the counter, wall, and glass clinging to each red bit of moisture, flying across the room... while do a spell check on my own writings, I find myself having to go back for the words that spellcheck doesn't catch; words that slip by because while spelled correctly, still need that human tweak because they just don't fit, grammatically. And that, my dear, is about all of the critique I can give on this. I like the way you pull in and out of this sweet man's thoughts, and am wondering where you will take us next... |
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Earth Angel Member Empyrean
since 2002-08-27
Posts 40215Realms of Light |
Marti, your descriptions were so vivid that I felt that I was virtually witnessing every thing ~ every sight, every sound, every emotion... You are a very talented writer! I wish you the best with your novel! Love & Light, Linda |
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