#FreewriteMadness Day 27: Plugging More Gaps!

Today, I am continuing my valiant efforts to catch up with the #NaNoWriMo par line. It has really run away from me in the past week, as life has taken over and other things have had to take precedence over my writing. I'm confident that even if I can't quite get back to the par line today, I will definitely have accomplished it by the end of tomorrow, as this will thankfully be a quiet, obligation-free day for me, when I can finally just sit down and write without having to worry about a million other things pulling me away from my little cocoon of creative bliss.

As the title of this post, I've been using today to fill in a series of gaps in my novel. I will put a sentence before each little section I share here, briefly explaining its context within the book.

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This piece of writing is a direct continuation of a previous text conversation between Sarah and Mark, which is outlined at the end of this post.

As she cracks up laughing, André re-enters the room and looks strangely at her. ‘What’s so funny?’

‘Oh … nothing.’

He carries on staring at her for a second, confused, then glances at her phone. A broad grin spreads across his face. ‘Oh. Oh. I see what’s going on here…’

‘Nothing’s going on.’

André cackles as he walks over to the stove, preparing to cook some dinner. ’Sure. Sure … laughing at nothing at all, is that so?’

‘Yes, it is so,’ she says, in as dignified a tone as she can muster, then looks back at her phone. Mark has sent her two photographs of his family dogs: an adorable pair of Cavalier King Charles spaniels. Her heart melts at the sight of them. She sends him a string of heart emojis, then adds, I hope they’re doing okay! The noise of the storm must be so scary for them.

Her finger hovers above his name again. Will she do it? Will she check out his profile? Do a bit of cyber-stalking? She has managed to resist the temptation to do that so far. All she has to do is make sure she doesn’t accidentally hit the like button on a really old picture, or something stupid like that, and she won’t get caught. She hesitates for a moment, then clicks into his profile. Right. Where should she start? Old profile pictures, perhaps.

She begins to look through them with an air of mounting curiosity. At first, all she can see are a load of innocuous-looking pictures of him with friends or family, but then … is that a picture of him kissing a guy? Oh God, this guy appears in loads of his old pictures – she clicks into one of them, to see the date. 19th July 2016. 3rd July 2016. 1st July 2016. 28th June 2016…

There are so many pictures of the two of them together: embracing one another, laughing at something together, taking part in what looks like some kind of hiking trip and … oh, shit, some of them have captions.

In one of them, Mark has written:

So. This is a difficult one to write. A year ago, I was still in denial about who I was, but today, I’m ready to stand up and say: yes, I am bi. This is who I am. No, there’s nothing wrong with me. No, I’m not confused or greedy or indecisive. Yes, I know some people will have shit to say about this, but I really don't care. If you want to leave a negative comment ... unfriend me right now. You know where that button is! 😉

133 people have either liked the picture or given it a heart reaction. There are 53 comments. Sarah scans through them: they’re all expressing their pride in Mark, telling him that they support him, that he was brave to be true to himself… One comment in particular has received lots of likes: it’s from Mark’s ex-boyfriend, expressing how lucky he is to be with him.

Why has Mark never told her he’s bi? It hasn’t come up in conversation, she supposes … still, it makes her feel a little anxious.

Just then, he replies to her previous message.

Yeah, they’re okay. They’re in the living room with me and my family at the moment, getting spoiled rotten.

Sarah:

Aaw. I’m glad they’re doing okay!

Mark:

They’re the best doggos. I’m always telling them that. 😊

Sarah:

Top-class doggos, for sure. ❤️🐶

She goes back to the picture of Mark and his ex-boyfriend, now feeling slightly sick. Oh God. He’s really good-looking. How is she meant to compete with that?

Mark:

Their names are Max and Jenny. It would be great to introduce you to them one day! I know you were saying the other day that you wish you had a dog. Maybe the four of us can go for a walk sometime, down by Dollymount Strand, if you’re up for it? The dogs love going down there.

Despite her anxiety, Sarah can’t help but smile.

Asking me out again?

Mark:

Maybe. 🙈🙈

Sarah begins to go through some of his timeline photos from 2016. She feels awful about this now, but she can’t make herself stop. There he is, marching in a Pride parade, posing for pictures with other members of the Bi Pride group, hugging his ex-boyfriend. Oh God. Would someone like him ever be happy with someone like her, really? She’s only been to one Pride march: the euphoric post-marriage-equality one of 2015, when she had accompanied André and a few other acquaintances from college. It was an incredibly joyful day – no doubt about it – but she had felt slightly awkward sometimes: like she didn’t really have much business being in the march and she was taking up space that didn’t belong to her.

L, G, B, T: she can’t lay claim to any of those letters. There is an A way down the list, she knows – in the longer acronym that contains all kinds of letters, some of which she doesn’t understand – but she doesn’t feel comfortable with the idea of claiming a place within the community on that basis, even though she knows this fear is probably silly. She could certainly never write a status like Mark’s one, proudly proclaiming her truth to the entire world. She doesn’t know a whole lot about the LGBT community in Ireland – apart from things that André says to her from time to time – and she doesn’t feel connected to it in any other capacity than as a supportive outside observer. What if she can’t possibly understand this part of Mark’s life, and he ends up resenting her for that?

Oh, shit. She’s been leaving him hanging since his last text. It’s been – she briefly checks the time he sent it – fifteen minutes since she saw it, and she has spent the entire time looking through his old pictures and casting all sorts of judgements on him. Could she be any more horrible right now?

Sorry, I was just chatting to André!

The lie makes her wince, but what else is she supposed to say?

I would love to go out with you and the dogs sometime.

She can’t resist tossing in yet another joke:

Mostly because I want to see the dogs.

Mark:

Not me?

Sarah:

Nope. I’m afraid not.

Mark:

😭😭😭

She sends him the GIF of the Ken doll saying 'Deal With It' again.

That was 1,082 words.

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This is the beginning of a chat between Sophie and her cousin Louise about the discos she has attended. I don't have a whole lot of time, but I wanted to write the very start of this conversation, at least!

‘You were at a disco?!’ Louise screeches. We’re up in her room right now, painting our nails, with Daddy and Moira sitting downstairs. They’re going through accounts or some other boring adult stuff like that.

I just have to raise my eyebrows over how loud Louise is being. Does she have to overreact like this all the time? ‘I’ve been to two now,’ I tell her. ‘Don’t shout it like that…’

‘I’m only in Fifth Class, so Mam would never let me go to one,’ she says sourly. ‘But you’ve been to two now? That’s so cool.’

‘It isn’t that cool,’ I mutter awkwardly. ‘And don’t say it so loud. I’ve told you: I don’t want Dad to hear.’

‘So … you, like, sneaked out of the house to go there?’ Her jaw is wide open. It’s annoying me a bit: how she’s acting like this is the most amazing thing she’s ever heard.

That was 164 words.

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This is the phone call that precedes Emma and Moira's first meeting, which is described in this post. I'm gradually building up their story in my head ... again, even though I don't have a lot of time to flesh it out right now, I did want to try and write something.

Emma feels a little apprehensive as she listens to the phone ring – but it doesn't take Moira long to pick up.

'Hello?'

‘Hello, Moira? This is Emma Harrison. I’m a friend of Derek’s and he gave me your number –’

‘Oh yes, of course. He told me to expect your call. You wanted to talk to me about going through your accounts, is that right?’

’Yes. Thank you. I run a small supermarket in Drumcondra and keeping on top of things by myself is a challenge, as I’m sure you can imagine!’

‘Of course. Well, that’s no problem. How about if we sit down over coffee some day this week and you can talk me through exactly what needs to be done? We can agree on a timeline and a price from there.’

‘That would be great. Thank you.’

‘When could you meet? Wednesday? Thursday?

‘Thursday would be god for me.’

‘Great. Let’s say … one o’clock at Caffé Nero on O’Connell Street?’

‘Sounds good. I’ll see you then.’

That was 176 words.

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