You sit there bleary-eyed morning tired, your coffee growing cold. The headlines blur. Your mother's chitter-chatter segues into wall-paper and you try to remember where you parked the car, whether it's pulled in nice and tight in the garage or whether you left it curbside, afraid the garage door lifting at god-knows-when would wake mom, but you can't remember, you don't remember much of anything, not driving, not stumbling up the stairs, not sleeping. Nothing.
But you remember this: mom already on the couch with her Scotch and week's worth of Tivo, she assumes you're with Brad and Mac, and you are, but not at the movies, you're chugging beer and smoking blunts in Lorraine's basement while you listen to Zeppelin, Morrison, Hendrix, the stuff your mom plays when she feels old, and for the first time all week you stop worrying how you bombed AP biology and how you missed the Berkeley deadline and what the hell you'll do about college, you don't have the dough for Stanford but damn if you'll go to San Jose State, and then Lorraine pulls you from the couch, so alive, warm, so smiley, and you pile into your Mercury and barrel down the street, windows down, the air smells like sea, the night goes forever.
The milk smell makes you nauseous. Your mom says, “Pity about Stacie, some drunk ran over her dog last night,” and you remember the crunching sound when you took the corner at Beloit and Anderson, tires squealing.
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Ouch! Liked this a lot.
Damn, this is good, Linda! That second person POV is beginning to grow on me as I see more people using it. YOU certainly make it work. *
sad, so well done
xoxo fave
MaryAnne, thank you for reading and faving -- glad my story hurt! I look forward to reading your words. Peace...
That last line really does it for me. It brings:
"[...]you can't remember, you don't remember much of anything, not driving, not stumbling up the stairs, not sleeping. Nothing."
full circle, resulting in a very satisfying read. Nice work.
The internal monologue commentary is fabulous here. Splendid writing.
Love this, some great details here & that ending!
Why do I feel guilty?
fav
All, thanks for reading the kind words -- you honor me. Peace...
Forgot to fave this. Came back and corrected the omission.
Wow! I did not see that coming. I was so into the character and how real you made her experience that I wasn't even looking for the explosive finish. Loved it!
Oh, boy. Wow, indeed. Crunch. Poor Mom, poor kid, poor everybody.
*
Greg, thank you for reading and faving Unintended Consequences, and so happy the ending took you by surprise! Peace...
Jack, thanks for dropping by and reading. Mostly, poor doggie! Peace...
the brutal honesty of life. that second paragraph is genius.
Memories...like the corners of my mind...misty water colored memories...hahahaha! Okay, that song has nothing to do with how remarkably potent your story is, but you know me. I'm odd. Loved it at 52/250, love it here! *
I enjoyed this very much, yes. Wonderful indeed.
Marcus dahling, thank you for the read, the pretty star, and the geniosity comment -- mucho aprpeciated! peace...
Robert, dang you, I am singing Barbra now... thanks for the generous read and fave! Peace...
Love 2nd person narratives and love this.
That is, this:
"mom already on the couch with her Scotch and week's worth of Tivo, she assumes you're with Brad and Mac, and you are, but not at the movies, you're chugging beer and smoking blunts in Lorraine's basement..."
Great.
*
Bill, thank you so much for loving 2nd pov and loving my story. Peace...