Writergirl80

We’re at the beach on this blistering hot Sunday in July. I am the only one in long sleeves and the only one stupid enough to wear black. Everyone else is in shorts and t-shirts; bathing suits and bikinis; tight t-shirts and tank tops as I trudge down the beach in a long, black coat. I am the only one in jeans; I am the only one with bleached blonde hair and I am the only one whose coat tails float behind her, like a ghost or a shadow, following her.

I stand here, the hot, brownish-blonde sand sinking into my sandals. I take a long drag of my cigarette; the toxins seeping into my lungs… absorbed and exhaled. I am left in a cloud of blue cigarette smoke.

The sky is aquamarine; the wind rushes at my ears, howls and whistles and ceases for a moment and I am left with silence. The silence to fill, always to fill; my life’s duty to distract myself from the silence. My life’s duty to distract myself from my own life. And in the silence I stand for a moment, baking in my black coat; smoke rising above me; disappearing into the atmosphere, polluting the lungs of the small children that run, play, scream, cry, flail, not a hundred feet from me. The dirty looks I get from pregnant mothers who drink Diet Coke, trying to watch their figures, blissfully oblivious to the poisons of aspartame. Dirty looks from mothers who would die before they’d have a child like me: I’m a freak on this beach of normalcy. I stick out like a splash of neon orange on an otherwise totally white washed canvas. I can go nowhere to hide from everyone else, and worse possibly still, I can go nowhere to hide from myself.

The silence in my ears; the noise in my head. The thoughts that won’t leave me alone. And I feel that I don’t fit in here at this beach, in this world. Anywhere.

“Mandy!!!” I yell.

She doesn’t hear me as she wades into the water in her white bathing suit. Even from twenty meters away I can see her bony, sharp hips pointing out of her swimsuit. She’s never eaten properly in her life, and obviously this summer she hasn’t chosen to start doing so. The water floats up above her ears, yelling her name again would prove futile, so instead I take off my sandals, kick them off to the side and roll up my bell bottom blue jeans to just above my knees. I walk into the water; it feels ice cold against my skin. The bottoms of my feet brush over smooth rocks, and I can feel seaweed between my toes. For the first time in weeks I am almost happy. This is not to last long.

Mandy’s head, a small brown blob now off in the distance slips under the surface of the water. And then a moment later, her head pokes up from the water, accompanied by slash-splash-splash as she kicks her way toward me. I look at her and figure she must never have taken a day of swimming lessons in her life but it doesn’t seem to bother her. Her face glistens with wet as she doggy paddles her way over to me. A big, bright smile on her face; her white teeth in sharp contrast to the darkness, the nothingness of the water; the nothingness, the darkness, within me.

“Mandy, don’t go too far out. You can’t swim very well,” I warn her, and for once I am the mother figure to her, when the reality is that she is usually the one who babies me.

“I can to swim,” she says. And she flops back down into the lake, and I am left with a splash of water, dripping down my face. Her head surfaces again and her smile hasn’t faded one bit. “See?” she says as she floats on her back, kicking violently.

“Uh huh,” I say.

“Claire, why didn’t you bring your bathing suit?”

“Because I don’t want to swim. And I feel so fat, I’ve gained like fifteen pounds this summer.”

And it’s the truth. I have gained weight. Mandy kicks her way over to me and she stands up, the water at her knees, her sharp hips staring straight at me, her white bathing suit clinging to her body.

“You look fine. Just lose the jacket. This isn’t a funeral Claire. It’s the summer. You’re supposed to be having fun.”

“I know, I just…” And before I can finish my sentence Mandy dives back into the water; her head disappears under the surface and so I walk out of the water over to my sandals. I pull out my pack of Belmont Milds from my jacket pocket and light one. My moment of happiness has quickly passed and I plop down to the ground. I sink my toes into the hot sand and wonder why I can’t be like Mandy; why I can’t just fucking put on a damned bathing suit and slap a smile on my face and just be happy. I wonder why I have to be different. Why I have to be difficult. Why I have to be me.

Chris Miller

Another enjoyable read. Again, your use of detail (e.g. her brand of smokes), honesty and wit lift what might have been angsty soul-searching up into an evocative study of self. Love her character.

I was glad that Mandy didn't drown and drag the story into melodrama. It was enough to show that she is a risk taker. The theme (as I see it) is that you have to take chances to enjoy life. You handled it very subtly and well.

white washed = whitewashed

“I can to swim,”
too

Her face glistens with wet as she doggy paddles her way over to me.
Strike "with wet"
or wet = sweat

__________________
the fairwriting blogs

Barcelona Review story: http://www.barcelonareview.com/64/e_cm.html

Jimbob

Writergirl,
Well written, excellent images, kind of introspective. I was expecting a little more to happen, though than having the narrator still feeling fat, depressed, and wishing she could be more like her friend.

I'm not sure whether the point of this piece is about the importance of takng chances or being thin.

Jimbob

amusinglackoftalent

...WriterGirl.

"I'm not sure whether the point of this piece is about the importance of taking chances or being thin." Dare I say both?

"The theme (as I see it) is that you have to take chances to enjoy life. You handled it very subtly and well." This seems evident to me as well.


"Her face glistens with wet as she doggy paddles her way over to me." I kind of like 'glistens with wet'.

I see a girl who has not yet come to like herself because she has not yet realized the truly important things in life, too aware of her own failings and shortcomings to realize that all around her share their own in one way or another. However, she's getting there in that she loves her adventurous friend in the waves. I also see a nicely painted beach setting on a warm day surrounded by people of which the character is keenly aware for one reason or the other. (Mothers, babies, thinner friends or acquaintances...) I loved the bare feet in the cool water bringing happiness scene. It's a very nice 'flash piece' and quite likely good seed for much more. I liked it a lot.

__________________
"Writing a short story is like having a tumultuous love affair, while writing a novel is like walking into the sea to drown." Anne Beattie &

gohn67

Hey WriterGirl80,
I enjoyed this. I loved the details. Great images, I could totally picture the scene. I love how she's dressed in a black trenchcoat and stands out from everyone else. Great image.

Mandy is her daughter it seems a young daughter, like 3 years old. But I'm not so sure she is since she calls her Claire, instead of mom or something.

"I can to swim"
Not sure if this is a typo, but it makes mandy seem fairly young.

Great observation. I liked this detail.

__________________
The Frowning Dog Blog

Writergirl80

Oh whoops. I must've done something wrong when I wrote this. No, Mandy is supposed to be her friend, age 22.

I'm still glad you like it though. How come you thought she was so young?

gohn67

Hmm, I think I misread, seems like everyone else got the right impression.

This was the line that made me think she was a younger.

Well this made me think she was talking baby talk.
Is it supposed to be "I can too swim."?

__________________
The Frowning Dog Blog

Writergirl80

Yep, that's how it is supposed to be read. When I wrote this piece it didn't even cross my mind that this line might come across as baby talk. When I said she is usually the one who babies me I just meant that she plays the adult role and I'm (the narrator) usually the child.

Mandy is also the same character as in my story "call me" that I posted here as well (except I don't think she has a name in that one...ah well.) Anyway, she's supposed to be this girl who really wants to go to med school. It is her biggest goal in life. And the thing is she always treats the Claire character like she's her patient.

Basically Mandy treats Claire as though she is a fragile mental patient. Mandy sees her actions as protecting her friend. But Claire views Mandy's actions as patronizing.

Hope that made sense!