Update: In case you didn’t notice, I didn’t write during the day yesterday. Too much going on and that can be a hazard when you’re trying to get those 1667 words a day done.
So, I’m providing this section for Day 7 and am desperately hoping to catch up this evening for Day 8. I hope that there will be another post this evening.
The good things is that I have a pretty reasonable idea of what the next bit is going to be and then it gets hazy. Really, really hazy. đ
I am open to suggestions.
Observation: I can feel dialogue wanting to take over so I keep drawing back and trying to describe the scene too. That’s not as much fun as writing dialogue.
Total word count: 11526
1810 words behind. đ
You can read previous sections here.
Chapter Five
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Waking up in the hospital is disorienting, especially since I only have the vaguest of memories as to how I ended up here. I remember feeling like I was drugged and in love; odd how those two things go together. My face colors as I remember chasing the blond tower down Main Street. I close my eyes and breath in deeply, hoping to allay the embarrassment.
Thereâs a hint of sage in the air, which strikes me as odd. It slightly covers the antiseptic smell and reminds me of my Granny who has been known to use sage to purify everything, especially when her sister-in-law, Great Aunt Rudy visits.
âYouâre awake. Good,â Mom says as she hustles into the room. She puts her purse on the chair next to the bed and her hands on her hips. âThe doctor is supposed to come by to see you and then weâll get you home. Are you feeling all right?â
I grin, because most mothers would have led off with that question not used it as an addendum, but my mother has always been nothing if not unique.
âI feel a little strange.â
She arches an auburn eyebrow. âMeaning? Youâre not in love any more, right?â
âIn love.â I chew on the word a moment. So, so embarrassingâŠand strange. Yesterdayâs memories are blurry. How could I have imagined myself in love with that man who I didnât know nor felt attracted to? Thinking about that in conjunction with my soup disasters is enough to make my head start aching again.
âYouâre looking a bit peaked. Let me go see if I can find Dr. Flirty and get this show on the road.â
I lean back against the pillow, feeling a lump beneath the pillow case. I pull out a little handsewn muslin sachet, exactly the kind my granny makes. She used to give them to me and my sisters before weâd go to school, âTo keep the bullies away,â she said. The scent is mostly rosemary, which is comforting, making me think of Roseâs baking rosemary bread.
How strange that mom or gran would think Iâd need protection in a hospital. Do they really believe this stuff works? I thought it was just gran being superstitious.
—
An hour later, Doctor Strangely Flirty, who is still hitting on mom, has decided that there have been no repercussions from my concussion and sends me home with instructions which amount to practically doing nothing for a few days. I guess thatâs what I was going to be doing anyway until I can figure out how to salvage Soupâs On. Just the thought spins me around. I might have to face the truth that it may not be worth saving.
âWhatâs got your jaw drawing on the ground?â Mom asks as she slides behind the steering wheel of her red miata.
âJust wondering what Iâll do if I lose Soupâs On.â
âYou arenât going to lose it. We are going to figure out a few things this evening over family dinner.â
âBut itâs SaturdayâŠisnât it?â I ask hoping that I havenât somehow lost a day.
âGreat to see youâre still on the ball despite a little old whack to the head. Weâre having a special family dinner. On Saturday. Today. Because things have been going funny and we need to figure it out and find the source,â mom says, zooming toward the highway. In another life, if Mom hadnât decided to be a writer, I think she would have been a race car driver or the driver of a get-away vehicle. I sometimes think sheâs pretending to be just that when she gets behind the wheel.
Autumnâs come late this year, the latest I can ever remember, as the warm days of summer seemed to want to hang on, and the leaves are only now beginning to show signs of change just a few days before Halloween. Itâs always a beautiful time in the mountains with the bright hardwood leaves against the cerulean sky. And the crisp scent with a hint of moisture and wood smoke.
I can feel momâs glances at me as she navigates the curvy stretch of highway leading to my parentsâ home.
âYouâre awfully quiet,â she says.
âSo are you,â I counter.
âSpeak to me.â
âI donât see what good a family dinner is going be, thatâs all. Iâve lost my mojo and unless it comes back, my shop is going to fail.â
Mom chuckles slightly, her slim fingers tap on the steering wheel. How can this be funny?
âWhat?â I ask.
She shrugs, then whips the car onto the road that begins the climb through the woods to their home. âJust seems kind of naĂŻve that you think itâs your mojo. Whatever that is. Is that like luck?â
âWhat other explanation is there?â
She reaches over and pats my leg. âThatâs what youâre going to find out at family dinner. Just be patient til then and donât fret. It will give you lines around your eyes and forehead.â
âYes, because thatâs my immediate concern.â At least my sarcasm hasnât taken a hit. I fold my arms across my chest.
âSmartass.â
âTakes oneââ
ââto know one, yayaya.â
For better or worse, sometimes it feels like my mom is my sister and not my mom.
Iâm startled by the number of cars parked in the driveway, some are rental cars. There must be eight to ten cars parked haphazardly around the front of the house. I glance at Mom over the roof of the car as I get out.
âWhatâs this about?â I ask.
âAww, you know. Itâs going to be a little larger family dinner than we might normally have because thereâs a lot at stake.â
âHuh? You mean my shop?â
Her eyes avoid mine, which is so unlike her. Sheâs not normally evasive. If my head didnât feel so heavy, I might have pursued the topic. Right now, however, I only want to take a nap. The only people who sleep in hospitals, I realized as I lay awake for most of the night, were people in comas.
Aunt Lea rushes out of the house, the sunlight catching her titian colored hair, giving her a halo. She pulls me into a hug and then starts patting my back. With the smattering of freckles across her nose and wide brown eyes, she looks at least ten years younger than her mid-forties.
âI was so scared when I heard that youâd been hit by a car.â She pulls back slightly and looks me over, touches the bandage on my cheek. Her finger touches the bandage and she grimaces. âPoor dear.â
âYeah, yeah. Fortunately for her the car was driven by Mrs. Munkley and was going about ten miles per hour. I think the car might have more damage than Sophie does,â Mom says with a laugh.
Lea rolls her eyes. âYouâre always so sympathetic, Cat.â
Taking my arm, Lea guides me to the house as if I were an invalid, and I let her. Itâs nice to be mothered, even if it is by your Aunt. âIâve made some soup. Roasted root vegetable, your favorite.â she says.
I stop and look at her. âAre you kidding?â
Mom laughs. âNo, sheâs not. And it wonât be anything like your soup, Soph. I promise youâre not going to be chasing after some man. Come on. Youâre gonna have a long evening ahead of you.â
As if that doesnât sound ominous.
end of Day 7
Categories: fiction, NaNoWriMo 2018, Uncategorized
Ooh, the suspence. Way to to cut it off just as the promise of answers is about to come to fruition.
I hate when I want to write, when it’s flowing and I can’t sit and do it. You picked it back up nicely. I’m sure with the flow you have going, you’ll catch up.
Nice job on the color descriptions. I had to look up “cerulean” and “titian.” I wouldn’t even know any better that to say, “blue” “brown.” If it’s not in the rainbow, I don’t know it. Yes, in my world even the rainbows are shitty. Shitty brown rainbows.
Observation: I do that a lot. My stories are usually character driven. I let my characters talk and forget about their milieu. I’m like, “You guys talk. I’ll come back later.”