21 July 2008

Memory Lane and Silk Pies

Here, my patient friends, is the ninth installment of Rebecca's Saga. If you are new here and want to catch up, please see the side bar. Have a comment or complaint? Feel free to post it here... Someone at some Ivy League school is likely doing a thesis on the direct connection between lots of comments and feedback and the speed at which stories are completed... motivation and all that... so - feel free...

Rebecca and Becky sat on Garrett's grave for a while - sometimes talking sometimes not. Rebecca thought it interesting that Becky talked so freely to her considering she was basically a stranger. She looked at Becky when she could remain conspicuous, trying to find some trace of Garrett - but couldn't see it. She could hear him though, in the things she would sometimes say.

"My Daddy always told me not to look for trouble where there wasn't any. I never knew what he meant when he told me that, but I think I figured it out last week at band camp." Becky said and she continued with a story about a drummer who said something about a certain flute player who was a bit of a rival of hers.

Rebecca was reminded of a time when she and Garrett were walking into town together as they often did. It was a warm summer day not unlike this one and they laughed and talked easily as they always did. Why hadn't she appreciated that more? Maybe it was because when you are 15 years old you don't yet know how rare it is to find someone with whom you can be so easily "yourself". That particular day she was complaining that a certain football player hadn't returned a call she had made and she was listing the possible reasons she was being "blown off".

"He doesn't like me, or he thinks my nose is too big, or maybe my butt or may..."
"Maybe he is just busy Rebecca" Garrett countered. "Did you know football practice started this week?"
"Oh". Rebecca replied in a much smaller voice. "I am looking for trouble again, aren't I?" she knew where he was going with this.
Garrett smiled and put his arm on her shoulder "Wouldn't expect anything else from you."

He had been right of course. The football player WAS busy. And exhausted from long practices. Eventually, he did call her and they did go out - in fact they went to the homecoming dance that fall. Where he promptly dumped her for a cheerleader, as cliche as that was... Of course Garrett pulled her through that too.

"Rebecca?" Becky was shaking her shoulder to startle her back to the present.
"Yes? Oh - sorry, Becky - what is it?"
"I wanted to know where you were going when you stopped to talk to me?"

Rebecca didn't want to tell Becky that she was going to research her father's accident. She felt it might make the girl sad. She lied and told her she was just out for a ride.

"It's almost lunchtime, want to grab a bite?" Rebecca offered.
"Sure" Becky took her up on her offer. They walked together to the diner talking about the incredible chocolate silk pies they had there and taking turns pushing Rebecca's bike.

At the diner they sat at a booth. Becky looked forwardly at Rebecca and said "I can see why he loved you." "Who?" Rebecca asked. "My Dad - he told me you were beautiful and funny and smart. That was why he had named me after you. He wanted me to be that way too."

This sort of candid truth stunned Rebecca and for a moment her own curiosity erupted from her mouth: "What about your mother, Becky? wasn't she beautiful, funny and smart too?" Rebecca's eyes grew wide shocked at her own sudden brush with brusqueness. Becky's answer echoed in her ears: "I don't have a mother... well - I never knew her anyway."


GMOM said...

Wow, what a great story.

Keep writing. What's the scoop with the mother?

I'll post a comment a day if it means you will write quicker. :-)

Bonnie Jacobs said...

Don't stop now! You've gotta keep writing! How will I sleep tonight, not knowing more than this? Where are you going? No, don't tell me ... write it. I'm like gmom and will post a comment a day if it means you'll keep going with this. Let's see, I've already posted several comments reading through the story today, so does that "push" you along a bit? I'll make an even better offer, based on what you said an episode or two ago:

I like feedback... Humor me, Please. Just don't point out my typos. I know they are there - but you can't proofread your own work. Everyone knows that.

Lucky for you, I'm was an editor. And I'm willing to proofread this story for you ... if ... (and this is a big if) ... if you'll keep writing. Is it a deal?