by Kim Conklin
He'd kept the parking space open. She used it most often, whenever she and her husband, an old drinking buddy, came to visit.
When he saw her that day, he knew. Her hipbones were fins on a '58 Caddy, her eyes death black. He was shocked, but not surprised.
Her husband had always mistreated women. A soldier's daughter, she had carried on.
Had he known, he might have killed.
He'd been captured somehow the first time he met her. That first night, he'd watched her undress, her image unknowingly reflected in a window.
Over the years, they had become good friends. She trusted him. That day, all she wanted was to park her car and run to a distant city.
Suddenly a lieutenant again, he did the right thing. He stopped her.
Don't run, he told her. Stay and fight. Stay with me.
At first, she still wanted to run from everything, from protection, even love. He stood guard, held her hand as she stood, taking baby steps towards living again.
One evening, he kissed her. She kissed back tenderly, piercing his armoured heart.
He swallowed his fear. For months, every time she left, he worried she wouldn't return.
He'd lived through the Tet unarmed; he would survive this. The years past had been the quiet before the battle, a long, restless wait, for what he had not known.
Now, she laughs again. He loves the sound. Just to touch her gives him joy. He walks home more quickly at night.
She comes to him.
25
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The first post after a work-related absence. This is a slightly revised version from the one sent to the 52/250 for Rivals.
Audio feature in "twentysix": http://52250twentysix.wordpress.com/2010/12/06/4p28-by-kim-hutchinson/
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It's so rare to find a story that manages to end on an up note without sentimentality. The emotion in this is earned and felt, and every word seems rightly chosen.
Thanks very much, David.
Agree with David. I like the ending. It works for me. Good pacing and story, Kim.
Thanks, Sam! It was a challenge to cover a long story in a short word count.
Agree with David (except I'll add that I don't mind sentimentality the way many people do) and Sam.
Great job, there is a lot here.
Thanks, Boudreau! And I have a relatively high tolerance for well-done sentiment, too.
So much here and so perfectly expressed, I would not dare to deconstruct.
Sentimentality is too much a part of the human spectrum to be denied, and when it is, the culture that so restricts it becomes too cruel, too false.
fave
What a fine love story! Delightful. Fav? Oh, yeah.
Wow! Thanks very much, James and Jack!
This is so gently told, Kim. It fills my heart. Fave.
loved this at 52/250 already. snappier here i dont know why-ought to compare versions when i'm back.
Thank you, Kathy. Your comment does the same for me.
Thanks, Marcus! I'm glad you liked the update.
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Thanks, Mata!
I like, and second, David Ackley's point - excellent control and dead-aim here. *
Thanks so much, Julie!
engaging, tender, and so well crafted Kim. Great story. Fave.
Lovely story, Kim.
"piercing his armoured heart"
Perfect!
Loved it over at 52/250. Now I can drape it in jewelry! Peace ***
Loved it over at 52/250. Now I can drape it in jewelry! Peace ***
Great story. Like the line: "He'd lived through the Tet unarmed; he would survive this."
Wow, thanks for the great comments and faves, everyone!
I very much like how you build this--it's very beautifully done.
Very well done, Kim. I really love the way you've gotten into his head in third person to make it so touchingly real.
Thanks, Darryl and Susan! I'm so glad you liked it!
@Susan, it's funny, but third person feels right to me more often than first person does. I'm not sure why...
This is a wonderfully LONG story told in a wonderfully short space. So hard to do, and so well done here!
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Thanks, Michelle! I enjoyed compressing a long story into the most meaningful thoughts and moments. It was a fun challenge.
I love your work, Kim. The hip bones like the car bit was beautiful.
Fav.
Thanks very much, Isabell! So glad you liked it.
Wonderfully, the compression of this serves to stretch it out, the whiteness the reader can fill in. Beautiful details.*
Thanks so much, Cherise!
Lovely. I'd like to take what Cherise said(nice comment) and ditto that.
Thanks, Jen!
a great ending to a powerful story
Thanks very much, Estelle!
P.S. Happy to hear you are on that Canadian Border. My dad was Canadian.
Deeply moving story, you handled the emotional aspects of these characters really well, it was poetic and believable
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Ah, I just read your note Kim about 52/250. I thought it had a familiar ring! Liked that version very much too
Beautifully done.
Thanks, Susan and Katie! Glad you liked it. Estelle, I love living on the border. Ties to Canada give you a different perspective.
Love this, Kim. How the first line opens onto this whole long life, and the last line parks us in.
Beautiful.
Thanks, Sara!
splendid story.
Thanks, Beate!
"A soldier's daughter, she carried on" says a lot about her. Carrying on, in the way that she is and because of who she is, actually makes me worry some for her. This story covers a lot of emotional territory.
Thanks, Jane! Being dutiful is a double-edged sword. It can be good, but it can also leave you vulnerable.
A wonderful story! My heart goes out. Definite fave.
Thanks Bonnie!
Came back to read this again and found new depth to it, new perspective.
Thanks, James! I'm honored.
Nice, unusual, tender love story.
Thanks Julie Ann!
"Her hipbones were fins on a '58 Caddy..."
fine description. It's fascinating to me how one spot-on detail articulated perfectly can make me buy in to a story utterly.
Thanks very much, Jo.
Echo Jo's remark regarding the spot-on detail. I also read about the lack of sentimentality in anearlier comment, and would like to ditto that as well. Nice bit, Kim.
Thanks Grey!
Love the voice here and the details–the fins, Very nice. A soldier's daughter, she had carried on–small line but says so much.
Thank you, Shelagh!
Beautifully spare, making every word count. Perhaps being stupid, or perhaps simply because I'm a Brit, I'm missing the significance of the title, Kim. Would you explain, please?
It's the number of a parking space. Sorry, didn't mean to be cryptic or confusing!
A love story about love, written with love. This phrase sums the story up: " . . . taking baby steps towards living again."
Obviously, you have a tender heart. *
Thanks very much, Ramon!