Note: The lead to the story I wrote appears immediately below. Following it are my reflections, thoughts, and background info. I started to put them first, but then realized some folks might only want to read the story.
Image Source: public-domain piqsels.com
A Strange Request at a Piano Bar
by Miguel Guhlin
Jill Reed stared out the window of the cherry red station wagon. A torrential rain an hour before had made the pitted grey streets a slippery slide into the night’s dark. Her mom drove, the stream of angry words washing over her in awkward, tense spurts. “Apples and sasssafras,” Jill muttered to herself. She’d taken to using the expressions in the sprained tenseness of her parent’s divorce. She may be a juvenile, but nobody said this carnival of horrors required her full attention. She tuned out.
Not that she missed much. Her mother pulled into the parking lot. The metal overhang on the door gleamed red with rust and oxidation. They had arrived at the bar. Dad loved his job here, even if it only brought in a few tips. The piano bar made her wonder if Dad had made a mistake when he married Nancy, her mom. As her mother looked at her, a false smile painted on her face like a mask, Jill anticipated her.
“Mom, when you go in there,” she asked, “could you get me a rum and coke?” At sixteen, rum and coke wasn’t such a strange request, was it? Wasn’t she on the verge of adulthood, her mother and father dissolving their marital union? Why not give adulthood a twirl? At that moment, Dad stepped outside. He stared at Mom in shock. I don’t know why, she’s his wife and I’m his step-daughter. You’d think he’d expect to see us at some point.
Mom got out, stepped up to him, and slapped him. He sputtered for a second, then as blotches of red crept up his neck, he asked,
“What are you doing here?”
“How could you?” Nancy said, menace filling her voice. Five feet tall, she looked like a badger next to a giraffe.
“What are you talking about now?” Bill said, the shame in his voice hinting that he knew. He knew, I realized. He hadn’t quite seen me, buried in a dark hoodie, the streetlight sliding off the glistening red paint and water droplets on the windshield. I was a duffel bag, stacked in the backseat, my upended life about to unzip once more.
“But,” he said back, “you’re getting the house, the car–“
“The car payments, the house payments, the bills, I get it all, don’t I? The only thing I don’t get is the money I need to pay them. I don’t know, I’ll have to sell it all.” A sob crept into her voice.
“You could go live with your sister.”
“And leave my job, the only thing keeping us afloat?”
“You don’t have to worry about me,” replied Bill. He smiled, a bit unkind, and stepped back. “You chose to get divorced. It’s you walking out on me. No harm, no foul.”
“Let’s go, Faith. Coming here was a mistake,” Mom said. Shaking the anger and despair from her, like some disciple of God, shaking his feet from a town too stupid to be kind.
“Ok, Mom,” I said. “What will we do now?”
“Janice said she would sell the house for us. We’ll sell the car, then catch a flight to Missouri. Aunt Maribel has a room for you, and a space for me.”
A Birthday Celebration, Another Challenge
Writing Prompt
Here’s the writing prompt from Write the Story, a book I would never have bought for myself, for today:Write the Story: A Strange Request at a Piano Bar
Include the following in your story:*carnival *sprained *mask *oxidation *awkward *apple *juvenile*controversy *twirl *sassafras
Although I like to think of myself as someone who can write from pre-made outline, I found myself writing the lead to A Strange Request at a Piano Bar in about ten minutes while sitting in an easy chair. One interesting point: I have never been to a piano bar. I don’t even know what happens there. I imagine that a piano bar is a bit like one of my favorite songs, Piano Man, that has the line, “What are you doing here?”
Mapping the Story
First Draft of Outline
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