strangedaze

[Made some changes, added some things. Thanks in advance for the read - all comments welcome].


Sandy is late for work.


Though she has brushed her teeth seven times in the last two days, I can still detect the faint odor of morning sickness on her breath. She tells me that the pad-Thai we ate on Saturday night, undercooked, still hasn’t left her system, and that she’ll need another few days to recover. Wanting to believe her, I tell myself that only her side of the plate we shared had been undercooked. When that doesn’t work, I try flattery, mentally boasting to myself about my iron stomach – the same stomach that can barely keep down a pint. Yesterday, I even tried to convince myself that I had food poisoning, too, and in an attempt to induce vomiting, I jammed two fingers down my throat, even though I felt fine and only gagged.


‘Have you seen the manuscripts that I was working on last night?’ she asks me, mismatched articles of clothing hanging off of her as she shuffles through the apartment, adding papers to the bulging shoulder bag rubbing against her hip. I shrug my shoulders.

‘No,’ I say softly as I slide my hands into my pockets, ‘but I love you.’


She shakes her head – not the right answer, I gather - and resumes her hunt for the dematerialized manuscript.

Sometimes I wonder why important things disappear. My favorite pair of socks disappeared last month. Sandy told me that I needed a new pair anyway, that a hole was forming in the toe of the right sock, and suggested that if I was so heartbroken that I could always buy a pair from the same brand, similar shape and size. I explained that it isn’t the same. It’s strange, but it is the particulars that give me the most satisfaction. The particulars give things order. My big toe needs air, I told her; my heel needs to glide across the carpet, I need to feel dust bunnies tickling my skin between fraying threads; I need my socks to smell a certain way, to feel a certain way. She called me stupid and threw a shoe at me.

‘How about giving me a fucking hand?’ she calls from the other room. I nod my head, even though she’s out of sight and can’t see me. It feels right just the same.

I lower myself onto all fours and begin looking under tables and chairs, pressing the side of my face flat against the carpet’s bristles. They smell like cigarette fumes and Lemon Tide. I close my eyes and breathe in a lung full. Sandy walks in, triumphantly waving a wad of papers.


‘I found it on your – Jesus, what are you doing?’

‘I’m smelling the carpet,’ the only reply I can muster. ‘The smell reminds me of the pair of socks I lost awhile back.’

‘The socks? Those dingy things? Listen, I told you, I’ll buy you a new pair when I have time. Right now, I need you to come lock the door after me. Hey – space case, can you hear me? I don’t have time for this.’

I can hear her, vaguely, but the carpet smells so beautiful that I forget to respond.

‘Christ, forget it. I’m leaving. You’re impossible. Just make sure to lock the door behind me, okay?’ I hear her heels clicking across the tile as she stamps to the front door. I hear the hinges of the screen door creak as she steps out. The sound of it snapping shut makes me flinch.

I walk to door and watch as she eases the car onto the street. Her tires, all-season, spin momentarily on a sheet of black ice, hissing until they find traction and grab hold of some snow. She gets a little ways down the street, stops, backs into a driveway, then drives past our house in the opposite direction. I watch her glide by, spinning up dirty clumps of snow on the sidewalk. I lock the door and rest my forehead on the wall, biting my lower lip.

‘Drive safely,’ I say, as if she were standing in the doorway, smiling and waiting for a kiss goodbye, instead of disappearing into the snowy grey mist down the street.

As I lock the door and turn to walk away, I realize that I forgot to graze my fingertips across the wall – a ritual that I’ve developed to cultivate good luck. The pads of my fingers itch, so I run back and swing open the door.

‘Drive safely!’ I call into winter, cupping my hands around my lips. I yell it twice, just to be safe. I rush back inside, sliding my fingers against the wall. It still feels awkward. Different. I repeat this routine twice more, but each time the wall seems cold and foreign. Today feels different. I always touch the wall when I tell her to drive safely. Always. Today is different…


It feels all wrong. I want to tell her that I love her. I want to say goodbye.

I lock myself in the washroom, my sweat soaked back pressing against the bowl of the toilet. I close my eyes and think about her car skidding off the road and into a pole, wrapping around it like a rubber band. I think about a large semi-truck, diesel powered and driven by a silhouette of indistinguishable gender, overweight and listening to loud country music, slamming into the side of her tiny Ford Focus, which is in month seven of a four year lease, crumpling it like an empty aluminum can. Only it’s not empty – Sandy is inside of it, and she crumples too. I think about the sky falling and crushing her, fusing her body and the metal roof together like an ice cream sandwich. I like ice cream sandwiches, but they seem so ugly when they are made of steel and blood and my wife.

I need Sandy. I need holes with socks in them, socks with holes in them. I need sandwiches made of ice cream. I need Lemon Tide carpets.

Don’t all leave me at once.

She said that I am impossible. With the words ringing in my ear, I let my head hang inches away from the toilet water, my fingers jammed far down my throat. My stomach tightens, but nothing comes.

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His sins were scarlet, but his books were read.

Londongrey

Hi Strangedaze!!!

Great to see you again and your work, it feels like forever.

One thing I would say to make this move faster is to take out all of the I, me, myself my words. There is no need for so many and only halts the reading somewhat. I would also say try to use more powerful wording and perhaps imagery. In some parts especially where you talked about him first lying on the carpet on the bristles it felt rather uneventful. Perhaps it would make me as a reader care more about the character.

I think you have a good basis though, it needs pruning in some places and fleshing out in the other.

Hope the above makes sense.

Alex

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You are only as dull as the light in the room you occupy, everything else is just hearsay - Me, about five minutes ago.

leper

This was one of the better short stories I've read in quite a while. Of course, I'm very appealed by first person narratives generally, so maybe I'm a bit biased. I really have no idea, of exactly what it is that so strikes me, with this kind of narrative, and frankly, I don't really care. As long as I know I like it, that's good enough for me.

Of course, I suppose, first person narratives can come in a wide range of variants, but the one you're using is one that I really enjoy reading. I'm not sure what it's called, I see it as a kind of 'stream-of-conciousness' (I heard that nice three-in-one word somewhere) and I guess that's what it is. One thought leading to another, not really connected to the first, or at least not so at a first glance, and so on. It's great to read, and I thoroughly enjoy it.

So, where am I really going with this? Well, contrary to what Londongrey said, I think that the 'I', 'myself' and 'me' words build up the feel of the story. And, with these kinds of narratives, it's more important to convey a feeling, than it is to tell a story, although the telling of the story conveys the feeling.

Man, I don't really know what I'm talking about. All in all, I don't think you should change anything, as the story is close to perfect as it is. I feel lucky that I actually did read it, and that the character allowed me to have this glimpse of his life. That you let him. :)

On a side note:
The narrative is close to how Graham Swift writes, and if you enjoy reading these kinds of narratives (maybe you just enjoy writing them, what do I know), you should read through some of his stuff.

strangedaze

Thanks, both of you for your time.


Alex - Nice to see hear from you again. I'll definately keep your suggestions in mind. I was aiming for subtlety, so anything to make the reader care is welcome. Thanks again!

Leper - My thanks to you. Your comment was flattering and thoughtful. I'm glad you dug what I wrote. I've read some Swift, enjoyed it, and I plan to read more. Once again, I appreciate you stopping by and reading!

Come to think of it, I wrote an essay on Waterland. Fine book.

__________________
His sins were scarlet, but his books were read.

Ilan Bouchard

I liked this too. You entered the mind of a misunderstood, borderline OCD plagued man.
I don't have much to critique, only that this story didn't have much of a climax or storyline. This was an interactive way of describing the character, which was done quite well. Now you could present a crisis of some sort and show how the character deals with it.
But that's just my muse, many times I create characters and do nothing with them. So for this specific piece, you explained and portrayed this character well.

What's his job? Is he employed? I'm just curious is all.

__________________
Ruthless comments encouraged!

Scratches

I liked it far better than the original, and have no complaints. I'm not a stickler for climaxes and conflicts, as long as the story is well-written and engulfing, and it really is.

__________________

Never get so attached to a poem
you forget truth that lacks lyricism
and never draw so close to the heat
that you forget that you must eat
- En Gallop, Joanna Newsom

zaoshang

Beautiful. I also prefer this version - I feel it's more powerful and round, although this ending may be more confusing (perhaps I prefer it precisely for this reason). But confusion is good here. I'm sure your intention was to communicate neither a cryptic nor a clear message, but rather to shake the taken-for-granted world of the reader. It reminds me that sort of "littérature fantastique," where the unusual and the "fantastique" is a sort of fissure in reality, not some blunt supernatural element as in fantasy or SF. Are you familiar with Cortázar? (Sorry, I just couldn't refrain. He's my favourite ever.)

One minor thing:

[quote]...suggested that if I was so heartbroken that I could always buy a pair from the same brand...[quote]

- I have the feeling one of the "that" is redundant - probably the second. But of course, if this is the way your character talks, you should leave it there.

This is, again, high-quality stuff. Well done.

strangedaze

Ilan - Thanks for the comment. If I do another revision, I'll definately keep your suggestions in mind. Nice sonnet on adVerse, by the by. Been too busy to do a crit.

Scratches - Thanks for the kind words, yo. Your read is appreciated.

Zao - I sure am familiar with Cortázar, and I'm a big fan of the fantastic (dare I say irreal?) in literature. Kafka will always run through my veins, with Gogol and Borges swimming not far behind. I'm glad you enjoyed the revision. PM me if you ever want to chat about the fantastic, or about writing in general.

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His sins were scarlet, but his books were read.

lisajane

I like this a lot. I didn't read the previous version, but I think this does move a bit too slowly at times. Like some others, I need something to happen, an event, and I didn't feel like there was one here.

It was really good as a character description, though, and as writing itself.

__________________
'Beauty stands and waits with gravity to start her death-defying leap. And he, a little charleychaplin man, who may or may not catch her fair eternal form spreadeagled in the empty air of existence.' - Laurence Felinghetti, 'The Acrobat'

daedaaluss

This is really good. Reminds me a little of Douglas Adams. Aye, I think the "I"'s etc. are part of what makes the story good. Its a plain story, simple, but its real. Which is what I like.

reni

I really liked this. I haven't read the original version, but this was easy to read and very involving. I had no problem with the first person narrative and thought it fit the story well. The narrator is interesting in a strange and unpredictable way. He definitely brings to mind someone with OCD, but being in his head and witnessing his odd observations about socks and the smell of the carpets was really intriguing.

I particularly liked the paragraph when the narrator imagines the possibility of his wife's car crashing. The thoughts and descriptions in that passage (particularly the odd comparison between the crumpled wreckage and an ice cream sandwich) really appealed to me.

As far as the ending goes, I liked it well enough (I didn't exactly feel like I was left hanging), but I was yearning to know a little more. Does the wife make it back home in one piece? Is the narrator always so paranoid? Are their marital problems as bad as the narrator imagines? (The exchange between the two characters earlier in the story could perhaps just be attributed to a bad mood or off morning...) I wondered about these things after finishing this story, but it just goes to show how effective this is in pulling the reader in.

Ilan Bouchard

Pretty much we're all saying we liked it so much we want to know more about the character. More....
This is what happens when you create a good piece of writing. All kinds of trouble.

__________________
Ruthless comments encouraged!

AlexStrider

I really liked the story. And as other have said, more about the characters, and more to the plot would be greatly appreciated!

I am a new one to this forum, but I have been told not to hog the reviews and share the love, so here I am reading, and reviewing!

Anyways. I really liked the story. The characters seemed excentric and lovable at the same time. But again, there was too little to it. I want to know more. I want to know what he did after his wife left.

Overall, it was a good story, albeit short. I know that most look for gramtical mistakes and such, but I am really bad with my own grammer, and trying to find your mistakes would be a futile atempt for myself. So the best I can do is look at the story overall, and see what kind of flow it has, and how the characters are developed. That part of the story was wonderful, so I am looking foward to more!

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"Good Writing is clear thinking made visible."

Ajax

An over-sensitive paranoid obsessive-compulsive paired with a possible control freak. Nice. I like it. The characterization is well done, and the content raises enough questions about their relationship to make me want to read more.

I did find the single quotation marks kind of odd, but nothing I couldn't adjust too. So long as you're consistent with that sort of thing it isn't a big deal. (Or at least that's how I feel about that kind of thing, other opinions may vary).

Overall I think it's a good piece, and certainly a good beginning for a larger plot.

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Primarily I'm here for the doughnuts and the duck-dog.

jetmanjake

I agree with most of what's been said. Keep going.

One small issue I did have is that the girlfriend/wife/whoever seems like she wouldn't have any reason to stay with this guy. Give her one little moment of grace and it'll last you a long time.

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The beautiful part of writing is that you don't have to get it right the first time, unlike, say, a brain surgeon. - Robert Cormier