Sunday, May 28, 2017

Still Posting: Write What You Know, Part 29

Original Preamble

This is my first draft for NaNoWriMo 2016 novel Write What You Know. It's only a rough draft with very minimal editing and will, more than likely, contain, typos, grammatical errors, plot holes, or conflicting descriptions. It also includes notes to myself and excerpts from the novel the MC is writing that I try to indicate through various formatting that doesn't always translate well with my limited html skills. Furthermore, this particular novel is... there's no delicate way to put this... this novel is fucked up. So, especially in this rough draft crazed sort of NaNoWriMo way of writing, it may be difficult to read or follow.  I'm still posting it here because I want to shed more light on the process of writing to encourage and inspire other writers or readers who are interested. To learn more about this project, or my daily NaNoWriMo postings, please read Day 1-7.

Additional Preamble

NaNoWriMo 2016 ended 6 months ago and I never finished releasing my rough draft, for various reason but chiefly that I was without internet service on my computer for three of those months. I've debated a lot about re-establishing these postings mostly because I don't really think there were readers waiting with baited breath for the rest of this hunk of junk rough ass draft. But then I remembered that the point of me doing this isn't for the number of readers but to inspire and to finish things. The internet is forever right? Even if it means nothing now, some internet archaeologist could dig this up 200 years from and say . . . I don't know something. Or maybe there's that one other person out there right now and this is exactly what they need. Like Feida Kahlo said:
       --I used to think I was the strangest person in the world but then I thought there are so many people in the world there must be someone just like me who feels bizarre...I hope that you are out there and you read this and know that yes it's true I'm here and I'm just as strange as you.-- (Wikiquote)
This is for you, other weirdos.

Write What You Know, Part 29
By Stephanie Thompson,  1, 651 words

Read: Part 1Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28

Jennifer had woken up that morning with a rocky stomach. She forgoed the coffee Stella had brewed and the bacon and eggs she made and went straight for dried toast. She probably would’ve taken a bloody mary too if one was available but there wasn’t and she wasn’t going to make one.
“HOw do you feel this morning?” Stella asked. “Better?”
“About what exactly?”
“I guess, the state of affairs. About the case, about being arrested, about everything. You haven’t really said much to about.”
“I’m about as fine as I’ve always been Stella. It’s a bed of fucking roses.”
“Do you have anyone that you know you can call?”
“What do you mean by that?”
Sawyer had sworn, guaranteed that everything she told her was confidential that she would discuss it with no one else. Not even Stella, Not even her team unless she deemed it absolutely necessary.
“I mean, family, friends. Don’t you have anyone who can be here?”
“You have to get back to work?”
“No it’s not . . I mean, yes eventually I can’t stay here day and night and I have to  go back to work and my house and my life but. We have a professional relationship, we’re close, we’re a team and I can get you the physical things you need but. . . These are some bad times, hard times. You need the moral support of an old friend or something.”
Jennifer laughed. She couldn’t help it, the same way she couldn’t help it when Cassandra was choking her to death on the floor of a state run hospital. Love hurts. The friend Stella wanted her to call was the one who was doing this to her. Not that she was really a tower of strength in the first place. She saw that now. Helen had been a tower of sand built over a pit of spikes. She fell along time ago, Helen crumbled, and Jennifer was just finding the bottom now.
Stella had no outward reaction just watched her with close eyes. Close eyes like the detective. And like the doctors use to. Looking for the cracks.
“I have nothing Stella.”
She thought she would say something more but nothing else came. Like she’d finally found the truth she’d been lying about this whole time and it was nothing.

Knock Knock Knock

Stella left when Sawyer arrived. She had a feeling she wouldn’t be seeing Stella again.
Sawyer laid out files and books on the dining room table. “Have seat Christie. I have good news and bad news.”
She wanted to correct her name but in the grand scheme of things it didn’t matter. She had nothing she was nothing it didn’t matter what she was called now.
“Good news is that early signs would appear that you’re right. Helen looks like a viable alternative suspect who can cast reasonable doubt in your jury’s minds. The bad news is that she wasn’t let go. She escaped.”
Jennifer laughed just like she had with Stella in the kitchen.
And just like Stella, Sawyer gave no appearance of noticing it. “About a year before the last time you saw her. She lied to you and nobody knows where she is right. I mean besides in New York as of last Wednesday. Since then, nobody knows.”
She wasn’t laughing now. She was somber. Deeply somber. Low. She hadn’t had swings like that since her hospital days. High low High low High low.
“So, she knew. She knew that this would happen when I saw her. I mean she planned it. She was following me then and she knew she would kill all those people. She knew she would tear apart my life. She knew.” Low, low, and lower still. IT wasn’t as much as swing now as an elevator with no safety brakes. “She lied too.”

By the time Christmas morning came, there crummy apartment looked like Christmas hard barfed all over it. The tree practically disappeared behind the ornaments and popcorn strings. The walls and ceilings were drapped with glittery paper chains, they even had Christmas pajamas of a sort. She wore one of his flannel tops and he had the matching flannel bottoms. 
They cuddled under a blanket watching the heatless Yule log on TV. They made crumbs of the few cookies they got at the next day price from the bakery. A cold pale light tried to shine through the frosted windows but she’d never felt warmer or safer. They’d stayed up all nigh just being together, not speaking, in the dark.
“Merry Christmas,” he said when he noticed the dawn too. “Let’s open presents.”
“I just want to stay like this,” she said, unexpectedly. Christmas had made her down right mushy. She knew it was more than Christmas though, it was Danny. HE had made her dangerously soft hearted.
“Don’t you want to know what I got you?” He said.
She gave in. “”Yeah, okay, then.”
It was very cold when he got up.

Riley was half way through the second novel and on his second night of no sleep when Sawyer finally showed up at Christie’s brownstone. It wasn’t a moment too soon really because his car smelled like Red Bull cans, and greasy hamburger bags, which was a specific combination akin to vomit and he couldn’t roll down his window or get out until the lawyer showed up.

Knock Knock Knock

“”What are you doing here, Detective?” She heard Lindsey say.
From the dining room she couldn’t hear Detective Riley’s response.
Jennifer couldn’t bring her self to answer the door. Not that she was scared. She didn’t think it would be Cassandra. She didn’t care if it was. She actually might have welcomed that. It wasn’t even that she didn’t want to. She just couldn’t. It was like someone had slipped heroin in her toast. It was actually the way Helen had said her silent spells were like. She was there and conscious but she wasn’t in control of anything.
Lyndsey returned with the detective and now she wished she could know what Riley said or whatever he’d done to manage that.
“Remember Christie, you don’t have to say anything to him. You’re under no obligation to respond and my advice would be to not to. Let me answer any questions and just listen.”
“Jennifer,” the name came out of her like an ill timed burp.
“What’s that?”
“You can call me Jennifer.”
“Okay, let’s just listen to the detective.”
Riley didn’t sit down, he didn’t look around, he didn’t have any pleasantries. HE look right at Jennifer and said “I believe you, Jennifer.”

There weren’t many presents under the tree. One for each of them. She hadn’t known what to get him and he refused to tell her. He kept saying that old line “it’s the thought that counts” she jokingly said that she thought about punching him if he said that again. 
She had tried and struggled with gift ideas. Ties and socks, razors and snacks seem to be what the commercials tried to sell her. Magazines tried to sell gadgets of all sorts from tech to the kitchen. Whiskey stones for the scotch connoisseur the latest smart watch for the tech geek. But none of those things were quite right. The whole ordeal actually brought her a lot of anxiety which was anxiety worthy itself given that she wasn’t prone to it in the first place. She only wanted to show him how she felt about him, how she’d never felt like anybody else before. It would have been easier for her to just tell him if only the words would come out right. “I love you, dummy” didn’t belie the full depth of her emotion.
Frustrated in her millionth boutique she’d really wish she’d put a more firm kaibosh on this stupid Christmas thing. And just before she was going to give up entirely. Maybe get him a card and some whiskey stones. A card where she could say what she really meant and the stones she didn’t have to least say she tried. Just before she left the store she saw it.
It was the way all the movies said you were suppose to fall in love except she was already in love and this was just a christmas gift.
(I’m writing so much to just explain this one stupid fucking bracelet.)

Detective Riley got a hold of himself and stopped talking like he was starring in tv movie. “I followed up on those leads you gave, I did my reading, and I think I know what you were trying to say. I think Helen is behind all of this and I believe you’re innocent.”
High again. So high she was dizzy and didn’t know what to so.
“If that’s true detective I’d like to know when the charges against my client will be dropped,” Sawyer said being all lawyer like.
(To be honest, I don’t think this up to Detective Riley so she probably wouldn’t be asking this and would instead say thank you very much but now she need to get paperwork in order to file for dropping charges given new evidence or something. Then again what in the fuck is she even exactly charged with. Could she be charged with murder at this point? Who fucking knows right. RESEARCH MOTHER FUCKER)
“I’m actually focusing on trying to track Helen down. Because I don't’ think any DA, court, or judge (WHAT THE FUCK eVER) will be swayed by much more than a significant break like actually catching Helen.” (Bitch, this is repetitive as fuck).
“Well, Detective, she’s not here.”
Jennifer was liking Lyndsey more and more.
“Obviously but I was hoping that Jennifer could actually help me with that. She seemed to be the only person who knows who Helen is what she’d like where she might be or what she’s trying to do.”
Then low again. Low and fast that it was dizzying in a different way. In a way that made her want to cry and throw up.

“I didn’t know her at all.”

Thanks for Reading!