Novella

K-Lai — Fri, 30 Jan 2009 23:52:00 -0800

So I’m writing a short story. It should be a pretty cool tale once I finish it. For those who are interested, here is a rough sample of what I wrote today. I’d appreciate comments/thoughts!

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The smell of a lit balsam and cedar candle flittered across Henry’s perception. It was all he could do to keep from rolling his eyes in contempt as Angela continued to whine to their marriage counselor about his insensitivity, his writing obsession, his drinking, and on and on and on. He had heard her nagging almost non-stop for the last four years, and was convinced her “complaining” switch was permanently switched on. If it hadn’t been for their wonderful daughter, Reese, Henry would have left this situation a long time ago. Not that he had anyone to run to, of course – but Angela had effectively brow-beaten Henry’s interest in her to specks of dust that should be blown away.

When was the last time he had felt truly free? Henry mused. Angela hadn’t always been such a sour tart. The first years of their marriage were fantastic, borderline heavenly. They were high school sweethearts, married after Henry’s sophomore year of college and Angela’s freshman year. Life was far from easy – Henry worked two jobs to make ends meet and had to take night classes to finish his professional writing degree. Angela had decided to go to medical school after dabbling in business and engineering with little interest. She had always been the bright one, while Henry was the romantic and poet. Yet, despite the long hours and the stressful lifestyle, Henry reflected, those were the happiest years of their marriage. Maybe it was because of the long hours.

Reese came to them unexpectedly, just as Angela was finishing up her interviews for medical school, but she was a welcome addition to their family. Angela got accepted to the medical school downtown, so they decided to avoid the hassles of moving everything. Since Angela would be in class most of the day and study for several hours during the afternoon and evening, they decided that Henry would work nights so that he could watch Reese during the day. It was still hard, and though they would often joke about how they co-existed and time-shared Reese, they were still pretty happy. The season was almost over, after all – once Angela started making money, Henry could stay at home full-time and take care of Reese while he wrote novels and everything would work out great.

A new voice broke in on Henry’s ruminations.

“Henry, do you wish to comment on anything Angela has said here?” The counselor sounded like a judge in a courtroom. Presiding over his trial, no doubt.

“Not really. What’s the use?” Henry felt resigned to his fate. He was trapped, and even though he was still secretly considering divorce, or faking his own death, the terror of losing Reese forever was enough to keep him chained. He could never abandon Reese.

“Henry!” Angela barked his name like a slap. She turned to the counselor, “You see what I have to put up with every day? He doesn’t listen, he doesn’t say anything…” Henry stifled a sigh. It seemed that there was nothing he could do or say that would improve Angela’s disposition towards him.

“Well, I think that’s all the time we have for today.” The counselor sounded eager to be free of Angela’s grip as well. “Between now and next week, Henry, I want you to write down a list of expectations that you have for Angela. Make two columns, one for the expectations that she has met, and one for the expectations that she hasn’t met. So far all I have heard has come from Angela. I think it would be healthy for you to share your thoughts next time. Angela, I want you to do the same. Focus on the things that he has done well, rather than singling out his faults. And next week, I expect you to be silent and listen to what Henry has to say. Thank you both for coming.” The counselor stood up, her body language clearly steering Henry and Angela to the door.

Angela, clearly peeved by the abrupt halt to her tirade, continued to ramble. How she managed to take care of sick kids for 80 hours a week without sounding like this was nothing short of a miracle, by Henry’s estimation. The door shut behind them. Henry thought he heard the bolt lock as well, as they walked out to the car. Visiting hours are over; every man back to their cells, he thought sardonically.

k-lai.com: Novella

Novella