Variation 2

Variation 2

                “Yes Mom, I grabbed my lunch. Bloody Hell.”

                “What is it?”

                “Just another semi blocking the road, it’s gonna make me late for the bus.”

                “Oh Honey, it’s okay, just grab the next one. I’m sure it will be a long shortly.”

                “Yeah, but that would make me late for class, and this professor hates when students are late. In fact he starts marking you absent if you miss so many classes.”

                “It’ll work out. Maybe the bus is running late, that would be a good thing for you.”

                “Yeah, but I bet today would be the day that it’s running early and not late or even on time.”

                “Well how close are you?”

                “Only…shit I can see the bus down the road….I’m just pulling into the parking lot now. And great…it’s raining out.”

                “What did I tell you about putting that umbrella I bought for you in your car?”

                “Yeah I know Mom, it’s sitting next to my front door. Look I love you, but I gotta go. I have to make a dash to the stop.”

                “Oka…” the phone clicked shut as the girl ran over to the other group of people waiting for the same bus.

Variation 1

Variation 1

It was a cold Monday. And she was running late.

She hated Mondays. After the relaxing tone of the weekend, it was difficult for her to get out of bed early and get ready for classes. She would have rather stayed in her pajamas curled up on the couch with a cup of tea than have to go out in the dreary weather that day. But she forced herself to trudge on.

She squished herself into the tiny bus stop along with the others trying to get out of the rain. Their combined heat was making the Plexiglas windows fog slightly. She had forgotten to bring her Ipod, and now over the faint patter of the drops of rain, she could hear someone else's music blaring.

Looking around she pinpointed the offender as a young man sitting further down on the bench. He was hunched over with his elbows on his knees and his head bowed. Another car came flying down the road and parking, yet another person, run-walking, to the bus stop.

She glanced up as the large bus came around the corner, maybe she hadn’t been running as late as she thought. She was with behind the group as they all shuffled over to the bus. The bus went two feet further than where the group had lined up and she was actually the first person on and out of the rain.

Brain Storm

Brain Storm

Bus Stop-Gloomy, Possibly raining?

People-standing around, some hunched over in jackets, some in the bus shelter

Puddles all around, cars splashing through them

Music can be heard-someone has their ear-buds turned up too loud

Soggy shoes-didn’t wear the correct footwear

Coughing-someone is either getting sick, or already is sick

Bus arrives-people shuffle over and form a vague line

Some person is lucky to be the first on and out of the gloom.

Another Scene-Current Project

She had escaped to the bathroom; and none too soon. She was tired of all the questions that his family, well, that his grandmother had been asking. All the attention on her was embarrassing. She had done what she needed to, to survive and carve out a life. Placing a hand to her hair, she smoothed out the long locks, and checked herself in the mirror. She passed through the foyer on the way back to the dining room, but stopped short of the doorway when she heard raised voices. 

“How dare you spring this on us?” it was Liam’s grandmother’s voice that carried its way to her.

“She is better than any other dense in the head woman you used to throw at me.” Liam’s deep voice also carried, but his was calm and not shrill like the other.

“We sent you to school, took care of you when your parents died. And this is how you thank us?”

“I love her. I’m not, nor have I ever “done anything” to you out of spite.”  Now his voice had a tone of defense to it. Grace twisted her hands round and round. She knew what this was about. She was hoping he would have waited until after she had left, but they might as well face it together. Straightening her shoulders, she entered the room and went right to Liam’s side.

Liam’s grandmother threw her hands up in the air and started to pace the room, her heels clicking sharply against the stone floor.

“Oh give it up Carolyn.” It was Liam’s grandfather that broke the silence.  Carolyn, his wife stopped dead in her pacing.

“Excuse me?” she answered, hands on her thinning hips.

“You heard me.” He was still seated at the table. His blue eyes twinkled as he looked up at Liam and Grace.  “Let the boy marry whomever he wants.” His eyes flashed back to his wife. “I remember seeing you for the first time two days before we were wed. We sent him to school so that he would be able to make his own decisions. So let him.”

Carolyn’s face went through contortions as she tried to process what her normally silent and calm husband had said. She looked from her grandson to the woman he had chosen. And she had to admit, they did make a good pair.

“Alright, if this is what you’re set on doing. I will go and pull your mother’s ring from the bank tomorrow.” Throwing up her hands, and walked over to the pair, taking Grace’s hands, “Welcome to the family.”

I Remember

I remember that first meeting, how he plopped down in the chair

 like he belonged there.

I remember his footsteps as he came down the hall and around the corner.

I remember not knowing his name for two whole months.

I remember just sharing stories, not sure if we’d see each other ever again.

I remember when I fixed his hoodie’s drawstring.

I remember skipping class just to keep talking.

I remember the head over heels, butterflies in my stomach feeling

 whenever he was close.

I remember the late nights.

I remember the sound of an idly picked guitar.

I remember the short winding drive by the river.

I remember that first vacation.

I remember trying to fit two people onto a twin sized bed,

and I remember it not working.

I remember staying up all night on the couch talking about

 everything and nothing.

I remember the way his touch made me feel alive.

I remember the agitated texts when I didn’t respond fast enough.

I remember slowly losing my identity.

I remember how the suspicious thoughts started.

I remember thinking, maybe this isn’t right.

I remember how he walked out instead of staying and talking things out.

I remember both drunken Halloweens.

I remember forgiving him.

I remember I hated being forced to fight, to yell.

I remember having no time for myself.

I remember many happy hours with his family.

I remember the laughter and beaming faces of children.

I remember feeling unhappy and anxious all the time, for no reason.

I remember the advice “Be with the person that makes you better.”

I remember the hurt on his face when I said I didn’t want to be with him.

I remember thinking he was so ‘mature’.

I remember how wrong I was.

I remember every insult he hurled or wrote.

I remember I never hurled any back.

I remember being so hurt I wanted to crawl inside myself and hide from the world.

 I’m remembering who I come from, and that we are survivors.

I’m remembering how much I like my freedom.

I’m remembering how to be truly happy again.

I’m remembering what it’s like to just be me.