#FreewriteMadness: My Response to the 'Tiny' and 'Cross Eyed' PromptssteemCreated with Sketch.

in #freewritemadness5 years ago (edited)

Earlier today, I shared the results of my first little bout of writing for the #NaNoWriMo / #FreewriteMadness challenge. In that post, I wasn't following a specific #freewrite prompt. I was, instead, completing a personal challenge I had set for myself: to plug all of the gaps in a chapter that I'd been having a lot of difficulty with, for some reason. But this time, I'm combining the first two prompts of November: 'tiny' and 'cross-eyed'.

As with my previous post, I have italicised all text that was written prior to November, and excluded it from my total word count. In this post, that text only amounts to a few sentences towards the end of the story ... but before tonight, that was all I had written for this particular chapter. The prompts 'tiny' and 'cross eyed' gave me the kick I needed to write the rest of it in one sitting. I'm loving #NaNoWriMo so far – it's really helping me to get my ass in gear. Enjoy!

___________________________

'Ah, Emma! Come in, come in – how are you?'

'Very well, thank you.' Emma steps into Diane's house with some trepidation– though she tries not show it – and removes her coat, to hang it on the hook behind the older woman's front door. 'And how are you?'

'Ah, not a bother on me. Come on in to the kitchen now, Brian will be back in about an hour –' Diane strides purposefully into her pastel-saturated kitchen with Emma in tow, calling out to a few of her cats as she goes. 'Lucy! I hope you're behaving yourself over there, now! I don't want to see my plants ruined, with you parking yourself in the pot day after day ... and Benny! Ah, Benny, you're such a good boy ... Emma, will you take some tea or coffee?'

'Tea would be nice, thank you.'

'Grand, grand. Let me just stick the kettle on there now, and I'll be with you in a second.'

As Diane begins to bustle around by the counter, getting the tea things together, Emma takes a seat at the kitchen table. She will have to steel herself for the conversation to come...

Diane soon joins her at the table, carrying two cups of tea. 'Here you go! And – wait – let me just get a bit of milk and sugar. There ... we ... go. Now! I'll sit down – these cats have me run off my feet all day, with their antics. What – oh God, Benny, what are you like? I've only just sat down!' She cackles joyfully as Benny jumps up into her lap. 'Ah, I can't really be angry with him. He's such a good boy, he's one of my favourites...'

'How is he getting on these days?'

'Hmm. Well. He's a bit cross eyed, as it turns out – I hadn't actually noticed it until the vet told me the other day. I thought his eyes just weren't working properly yet because he's still a baby...' She lifts the small cat to her face, kisses him, then sets him back on her lap and scratches him under the chin. He extends his neck to give her more access and begins to purr loudly. 'Poor Benny Boy. And he's still tiny ... I must fatten him up a bit more!'

Emma laughs. 'You've never had a problem fattening up those cats, Diane.'

'Oh, stop. Sir Pawskins has been on a diet since the summer, and has it made a shred of difference? Not at all!'


[Side note: the AMAZING cat in this picture is just a slightly exaggerated version of how I
imagine Sir Pawskins in my head.
😂 Image credit: Lauren Q Hill]

At this point, Sir Pawskins wanders over and rubs himself against Diane's ankle, as though sensing that his name has been brought into the conversation. Emma can understand why he was given a name of such grandeur: he is an enormous, puffy cat, with an incredible amount of long, thick brown fur coating his entire body. Diane clicks her tongue at him. 'Oh, I'm not trying to tease you, Pawsky, we all know you're very handsome ... and you're king of the house! Not a doubt about that.'

As she fusses over the cats, Emma tries to slow her breathing. She is feeling very anxious all of a sudden, knowing that she has to tell Diane about Derek, but not quite knowing how to broach the subject. How exactly do you tell your former mother-in-law that you are involved with a new man – and not just any man, but one of the most famous athletes in the country? She has no idea.

She clears her throat. 'Diane?'

'Yes, love?'

'I just – I, I came here because...' Her voice seems to get stuck in her throat, and she has to clear it again. What is wrong with her? This is proving to be even more difficult than she thought it would be. 'Well, I came here to talk about Brian's school, obviously – you know that – but I also ... well, there's something else...'

'What is it, love? Is everything alright? Is it Brian?' Diane's voice lowers and her eyes grow wide with anxiety. 'He's not ... he's not ... suicidal again, is he?'

'Oh no! God, no. I'm so sorry, Diane. I didn't mean to give you that impression. No, no, he seems to be doing much better these days. He's getting along well with his therapist and taking his medication ... and most importantly of all, his communication is much better than it was. He actually talks to me about things now: he tells me what's on his mind, and what's going on for him in school – all that kind of thing – so I haven't been half as worried about him as I used to be. No, it's...'

Emma falters, not sure what to say next. A few seconds of silence stretch between them – only punctuated by the sound of Diane's clock ticking on the wall – before she heaves an enormous sigh and decides she might as well lay it all on the line.

'Here it is, Diane: I've met someone.'

'Oh!' Diane's forehead furrows slightly. 'A man, you mean?'

'Yes.'

'Mm. I see.'

Emma exhales deeply. She finds Diane's face hard to read at the moment – the older woman has now begun to absentmindedly stir her tea, with that same slight furrow on her forehead.

'And ... well, the man is ... I know this is going to sound bizarre, Diane, and how it happened is a long story, but ... the man is Derek Fitzmaurice.'

Diane's head shoots upward. 'What?! The rugby player?'

'Yes.'

'My God...' Diane's mouth is now hanging open. 'So ... so how, in God's name, did that happen?'

'Well,' Emma begins, now feeling slightly embarrassed, 'the truth is ... we met at a support group for single parents.'

'Oh! I – I had no idea you were going to a group like that...'

'Yes, and I've been going to counselling too, ever since Brian's problems started ... it was just something I needed to do, for myself.'

'Of course, of course...' the older woman mutters, dazed. 'And ... and Derek Fitzmaurice went to this group? With him being as famous as he is?'

'The group is very much based on confidentiality,' Emma explains. 'Nobody there would be inclined to gossip...'

'Right, right ... and ... how long have things been going on between you two?'

'A few months.'

'Do you think it could be ... serious?'

'I think so. It's serious enough for me to be sitting here telling you about it, I'll put it that way!'

'I – I see. He ... does he treat you well? Is he a good man? I know everyone in the country feels like they know all about him, but of course, you never know what people are like behind closed doors...'

'He is an absolute gentleman, Diane, I can assure you of that,' Emma says firmly. 'He's very devoted to his children, very respectful –'

'Right. Well. That's good.'

Diane continues to stir her tea thoughtfully, her other hand still stroking Benny. Silence billows between them for a minute or two.

‘My Frank wasn’t good to you, Emma,’ she says at last, bluntly. ‘I know he wasn’t.’ Emma stares at her, surprised – Diane has always been like many other Irish mothers, praising her sons to the heavens no matter what they do.

‘You have the right to be happy. All I ask – and I know I don’t need to ask this of you, I know you’ll do it anyway – is to protect Brian.’

'Of course, Diane. Of course. I won't be introducing him to Derek unless it becomes very clear that things are going to last. I won't say a word about it –'

'That is all I want.'

___________________________

Wooo! I have officially smashed my first-day word count target of 1,600. The non-italicised text above adds up to 1,209. When added to the 734 words I wrote earlier today, this gives me a total word count of 1,943, with just over ten minutes to go until midnight in my time zone (GMT).

I want to end this post by giving a shout out to everyone else who has signed up to the fit of absolute lunacy invigorating creative challenge that is #FreewriteMadness. 😇 Make sure you go and support their work too! I have to go and check out all of the posts myself now – I've only seen a few so far. I have limited voting power (damn my not-quite-plankton but not-quite-redfish status 😉), but will upvote as many posts as I can per day.

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You did great!! and what a cat!!

Thank you! I love Sir Pawskins ... I kind of want a huge furry cat like that in real life, but I'm aware that it would be a nightmare to clean up all the hairs the cat would leave around the house. 😂

That cat is the bomb, and so is your story. One day in and it looks great. Congratulations 👏

Thank you very much, @wonderwop. 😃

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