Tuesday, March 17, 2015

Short Story: Who is lying?

My goal is to create 5 bad guys in 5 days and then see who is the baddest!  Tell me what you think of Gabriel.

 

Gabriel picked up a book next to the lounge chair.  He would rather be working on his laptop, but Dad had stunk up the cabin with varnish, so he was stuck on deck with too much glare.  They were anchored in a bay, and his twin sister Helen had taken a kayak to the next yacht over.  The book was Helen’s, a romance with a hunky guy and a gun.  He opened it, hoping for something spicy and instead found her college report card.

She made all F’s.  She must really be dumb, because even if you only show up for tests, you can still squeak by.  Unless she did not even show up for tests.  

Gabriel saw all around him signs of his sister’s prodigal nature and their parents’ inaction.  The life ring, red with ‘Tarsus’ painted in white, was on the deck, buried under a tangle of line.  It should have been hung up neatly and ready for an emergency.  Was she eight years old that it was still fun to play ‘man overboard’ with her friends?  She left drink bottles on the lounge tables, which of course ended up rolling around on deck.  Worse, he had stepped on an upturned bottle lid, which had cut his bare foot.  Helen preferred life at the SanNorte’s, where they had drinks on trays and servants to serve them.  They were a little more modest over here because his dad was retired Navy officer with no trust fund.  His dad thought he was still in the Navy, and despite the ‘GO NAVY’ towels and eagle emblems on the cushions, strict discipline had failed to keep things ship-shape.  Their dad had tried prepaid credit cards to control the spending, curfews to control the bad company, and rehab to control the drugs and alcohol.  Yet here she was on the yacht without a care in the world, and without a thought to late nights, tears shed and money spent by Mom and Dad.  As for his mom, the diving gear was out and her diving flag was bobbing not far away.  She was off blowing bubbles and escaping reality as usual. 

His parents wanted to make a decision and here with Helen’s failing grades was a way to help them.  He had heard them whispering about last chances and tough love.  His Dad would do it, but his mom was the soft one.

Helen was on her way back, paddling indolently and stretching once in a while.  A school of fish leaped over the surface with a watery hum, flashing in the sunlight.  He hid the book under the cushion and waited.  He wasn’t sunbathing.  He was waiting.  The kayak thumped softly against the side of the yacht as she hooked the carabiners to the gantry.  There was more thumping as she climbed the Jacob´s ladder.  In the past, he might have pulled the ladder up and left her floating till their parents came.  But now she had a waterproof cellphone, so it would end quickly with him in trouble.  The sound of sanding from the cabin stopped.  His dad emerged from the stairs just as Helen flipped the switch to haul up the kayak.  Two pairs of sunglasses flashed at each other until the noisy winch shut itself off.

“Good,” said his dad, pulling down a dust mask so that it was around his neck.  “I need to talk to both of you.  We got a report that there was a collision last Friday.  They are sure it was the Tarsus.  The other boat was tied to the pier.  They have it on the security camera.”

Neither answered.  Helen had a half-smile on her face and a dreamy far-away look.

“So the question is, which of you was out in the Tarsus on Friday?”

Gabriel said, “I was not out in the Tarsus.  I was at my place studying.  You know how important grades are to me.  Helen is the socialite who is out all the time … partying.”

Helen answered, “It wasn’t me.  But Daddy, remember the time we brought that ship into port during the tropical storm, and it hit the pier where we were standing?  That was so exciting—so powerful, so unstoppable.”

Their dad looked puzzled by the irrelevance of her answer.  Gabriel couldn’t believe his luck.  If he played it right, he could convince his dad that now was the time for a decision.  It certainly looked bad for Helen.  She was drunk right now, failing school, and suspected of destroying property and lying about it.  Helen, meanwhile, realized that sentimental manipulation was not going to work and groped in her addled brain for the right answer.

She said, “That accident did leave a big dent in the hull.  Is… Is there a dent in the hull?”  She  looked over the side where the kayak was, even though she had just come up that way.

Again, she acted like an eight-year-old child.  He might have ribbed her before, but today he wanted his parents to be serious.  He put his hand on the book under the cushion where he was still sitting.  In the past, his dad would make him stand up for this kind of thing, but now that he was 19, he did not have to.  He could watch and wait for Helen to sink her own ship.

“Yes, there is a dent, but more important is the damage to the other boat.”  

Helen hung her head and shuffled her feet and certainly looked guilty.  “That’s too bad,” she mumbled.  “And Gabe is right.  I was… at a party.  But inland!  No where near the water.  At least, not very near.  Maybe a couple of blocks from the beach…. I’m not sure.”

While she was getting her story together, Gabriel got up with the book in hand.  Just then a wake hit the Tarsus and he stumbled.  His dad put his hand back on the wall, right next to where the gaffing hook snapped into a special bracket.  Helen had to be reeled into the real world and she would fight all the way.

“Dad,” he said, “there’s something you should see.”

“Why are you giving me this?” asked his dad when he realized that it was Helen’s report card.

Gabriel puffed out his “Grierson’s Bay Sailing Championship” t-shirt and said, “I-I found it on accident and thought you should know now rather than later.”

His dad turned to Helen.  “What do you have to say about this?  What about the accident?  What about the spending and the drinking?  What about all the help you have had?” 

She pleaded.  She blamed.  She made excuses.  She flopped around like the eel that would not die.  Gabriel sat on the edge of his lounge chair, head bowed over clasped hands in a sorrowful pose.  His dad continued, “You have to get a job.  Finish your classes if you want.  They are already paid for.  You have to move out and get a roommate.  For God’s sake, get someone sensible.”  She would even have to pay back the damage from the accident.  The more she protested her innocence, the more implacable her father became.  “Honey, it doesn’t matter if you did it or not.  In this case you have to pay me back.  There were lots of other cases when you didn’t have to.  Don’t tell me you can’t do it.  You can do it.  You show up for work, do a good job, and people pay you.  Simple as that.  Like when you were a lifeguard.  I believe in you.”

His dad fingered two rope cords around his neck.  He was wearing the same t-shirt that Gabriel was, from the same race at Grierson’s Bay.  To one cord was attached a razor sharp knife shaped like a tiny harpoon and from the other hung his Naval Academy class ring.  Surely he would not give her the knife.  She might hurt herself.  Plus, she already had one.  And the ring?  It was his pride and joy.  He took the ring off and stood holding it, considering.

“No, Dad,” Gabriel jumped to his feet.  “You can’t give her that.  She might sell it.”

“Oh right,” said his father, putting the rope back around his neck.  Gabriel started to sit back down as his father pulled keys from his pocket and flipped through them.

“Gabriel,” he said softly, “Stand up.  When someone faces judgement, they stand.”

Gabriel did not understand, because Helen was already standing.  The keys scrolled by for the marina, the Tarsus, the gate, the storage shed, the chunky black key for the minivan, the 1965 Corvette Stingray.  His dad selected a key and started prying it off the ring.  It could have been the storage shed or the Stingray.  They looked the same.  A thrill shivered through him.  His dad was going to give him the car as his just reward for all his years of hard work.

But he didn’t.  He gave the key to the Stingray to his sister.

At that moment Gabriel could have murdered them both.  The gaffing hook was right there and if he took out his father first, his sister would be easy.

“But Dad,” he said.  “That isn’t fair.”

“Son, what isn’t fair is that Helen has lost everything and her brother begrudges her a worthless ring.”

Sunday, March 15, 2015

Mercado San Miguel

Wyatt picked a bar called La Abuela for our Mommy Date.  It was your typical squeeze in at the bar and eat standing up kind of Spanish place.  The difference was that the people on either side actually made room for us, and when a table came open, the host shooed off a new arrival so that we could sit there.  Usually everyone including the waiters ignores you completely.  Remind me after we leave and I start thinking, "I sure wish we had gone out more."  The food was typical: little fried peppers, potato salad with garlic mayonnaise, shrimp fried in a heap of garlic and served in a little sizzling hot ceramic bowl and slabs of fresh bread. It was all freshly done in the tiny kitchen off the bar and Wyatt said the impossible, which is that he ate too much garlic.
 We walked back through the Plaza Mayor and went through the famous Mercado San Miguel.  It really is a market with meat and fruits and vegetables, but it also has little carts where you can buy tapas and drinks.  At the bakery, Wyatt had a good time with this old cash register.  He asked me what it was.  You push in the buttons to do the calculations and then crank the handle and all the buttons pop back up.  We came away from there with a merengue swirl in a cupcake liner.  Wyatt thought there would be a cupcake and I have to say lemon merengue pie without the lemon or pie is just too much merengue, no matter how perfect and creamy it is.  It was perfect and creamy.  Don't hate me.


Thursday, March 12, 2015

Very Short Story: The Springturn Inheritance

Felicity walked into the office, fabulous and confident like always.  Elaine was expecting her sister, but not the two lawyers who were with her.  Even though this was Elaine´s office, Felicity took over, motioning the lawyers to wait and leading the way into the conference room.  

Felicity got right to business.  ¨Aunt Matilda died.  That means that you are the new Duchess of Springturn.¨  Felicity pushed a black ribbon across the table.  She paused for a moment to run her finger over the gold embroidery of the Springturn crest.  “Aunt Matilda loved Springturn.”

Elaine knew she was supposed to te the ribbon on her arm, or have Felicity do it for her, but she hesitated.  She looked up instead at the map of the world peppered with red dots for every office of her company.  Springturn was a blank spot on the map, with not a single dot.  Elaine worked in the capital of the country, a country in which Springturn was a border state with nothing going on besides agriculture and immigration problems.  All she could imagine of her future there were chaotic meetings with unprofessional people shouting at her about immigrants having rights (or not) and about people cheating on livestock subsidies.  She had seen it on TV.  Aunt Matilda was unruffled.  Elaine held her arm out to Felicity to tie on the ribbon.  “Wow,” she said.  “I don’t know what to say.  What happens now?”

Felicity spelled it out.  “The lawyers are here to do their thing.  The funeral is the day after tomorrow.  We should go now, but, I guess you probably have stuff to do here.  You should make a statement…. What’s the matter?  Do you want me to write it for you?… Then you will need to be in Springville to ‘receive condolences.’  Then you will need to go out and meet people, like a tour…. Don’t look so horrified!  People will love you.  You are so organized.  You are going to be an amazing Duchess.  Did you see Aunt Matilda’s new office?  It is much nicer than here, with a view of the lake and the countryside.  You can even see Mt. Beetle on a clear day.”

Elaine pulled Felicity into a hug, mostly to hide her emotions, which were running along the lines of, ‘over my dead body will Mt. Beetle be visible on a clear day.’  She told Felicity she was feeling overwhelmed and would Felicity please send in the lawyers.  She needed to talk to them alone.

She sat them down opposite her after the handshakes and condolences and said, “Sell it.  Sell the title.  Sell the property.”