Brigit's Flame, April, week #4 and Musemuggers
Title: Amidst the Sea
Author: keppiehed
Word Count: 842
Prompt: “Serenity” and a challenge to write a story with nine words collected from random pages in a book.
A/N: Written for week #4 at brigits_flame and musemuggers, option #4. The list of words is as follows, from Michel Faber’s Vanilla Bright Like Eminem.
edifice
raincoat
smidgen
luminous
crystallizing
dollop
threadbare
lottery
harelip
“Can I start you off with an appetizer?”
Janine forces a smile. “I’m still waiting for someone.”
The waiter nods. “Of course. Need a refill on your coffee?”
“That’d be great, thanks.” Janine jiggles her leg under the table and checks her watch. Derek is now too late to ignore. She stirs a dollop of cream into the coffee under the increasingly hostile stare of the waiter and acknowledges the idea that has taken three quarters of an hour to crystallize into truth: He isn’t coming.
The lights in the little corner restaurant-which had at first seemed romantic and luminous but now appear judgmental and strident-are giving Janine a headache, and she is in need of fresh air. She stands, leaving a ten dollar bill on the table. It’s crumpled from being clutched in her damp fist, but she leaves it there anyway, wadded in a mass next to the salt shaker. It’s out of place in the nice restaurant, but then, so is she. Janine clutches her purse and tries not to hunch; she can feel everyone looking at her as she walks out the door.
It’s drizzling outside, but Janine has forgotten her raincoat or even an umbrella. She owns only an old Chesterfield that used to be her sister’s, which she has left at home, hanging in the closet in the foyer. It was nice, once, but the velvet has since worn off the lapels and the elbows are getting threadbare, so Janine is embarrassed to wear it unless she feels she has no choice. As the fine mist turns to a steady rain, Janine wishes she hadn’t been so vain. She begins to walk. Her heel catches on a rough patch in the sidewalk and she stumbles and almost falls, but at the last minute she regains her balance and rights herself. She should go home but she doesn’t want to explain another failure, another broken date, so she wedges herself into an alley and waits for the rain to stop. It’s less of an alley than a large crack in the edifice where the mortar didn’t quite line up in the building. Janine sighs and watches the people hurry by as night falls. She could never be one of them, so carefree in their Wellingtons.
The vibration in her pocket draws her attention from the passersby, and Janine reaches for her phone. She catches sight of her reflection in the screen and she winces, even though she should be used to her own face by now. She raises a finger to trace the scar of the harelip that has never faded, even after all the surgeries. It’s raw and ugly and pulls her smile into a grimace, even on her most joyful days. Janine frowns and watches the sour expression pull tight. Her phone vibrates again and she checks to see her sister’s name before she answers.
“How’s the date going?” Kate asks.
Janine just shrugs, her throat constricting from the cold.
A silence. “Well, I was just about to open a bottle of wine, and I might have a smidgen of tiramisu left, if we’re lucky. Come over. I’m putting on that old Hugh Grant movie you like. Don’t make me watch this without you, you know I can’t do it. It’s the one with the girl, the blonde-what’s her name?-and then they fall in love at the end.”
“I can’t.” Janine says. “And they’re all like that.”
“You can,” Kate says. “Oh, wait, maybe it’s Ewan MacGregor and that one with with the lottery ticket. I think it’s that one. Same girl, though.”
Janine laughs in spite of herself, even though the rain is dripping from her hair and running down the back of her collar. “That one has Nicolas Cage, silly.”
“It doesn’t!” Kate says.
“It does.” Janine’s teeth begin to chatter.
“Well, come prove it, then. Let’s have a girls’ night in,” Kate says.
Janine bites her lip. “I can’t always come running to you when things go wrong.”
“You can,” Kate says. “What are sisters for? If some guy can’t see you for who you are, then it’s his loss. I’ve said it before: I like to spend time with you, Jan. And if it makes you feel better, you can pick up the chips and dip on your way. Deal?”
“Deal. I’ll be there in twenty. Bye.” Janine frees herself from her crevasse and stands upright on the sidewalk. No one notices her; they are all going about their own business. Janine watches their faces as they pass; a man with bad teeth is talking on his cell phone, a teen with too much blusher is rummaging in her purse, a woman on crutches is chatting with her friend, who is wearing an ugly hat. She touches her face. A businessman gripping a black umbrella with a tear in one of the seams bumps her as he hurries by. She starts to move, one of the crowd.
She is filled with serenity as she walks east amidst the sea of strangers.
Author: keppiehed
Word Count: 842
Prompt: “Serenity” and a challenge to write a story with nine words collected from random pages in a book.
A/N: Written for week #4 at brigits_flame and musemuggers, option #4. The list of words is as follows, from Michel Faber’s Vanilla Bright Like Eminem.
edifice
raincoat
smidgen
luminous
crystallizing
dollop
threadbare
lottery
harelip
“Can I start you off with an appetizer?”
Janine forces a smile. “I’m still waiting for someone.”
The waiter nods. “Of course. Need a refill on your coffee?”
“That’d be great, thanks.” Janine jiggles her leg under the table and checks her watch. Derek is now too late to ignore. She stirs a dollop of cream into the coffee under the increasingly hostile stare of the waiter and acknowledges the idea that has taken three quarters of an hour to crystallize into truth: He isn’t coming.
The lights in the little corner restaurant-which had at first seemed romantic and luminous but now appear judgmental and strident-are giving Janine a headache, and she is in need of fresh air. She stands, leaving a ten dollar bill on the table. It’s crumpled from being clutched in her damp fist, but she leaves it there anyway, wadded in a mass next to the salt shaker. It’s out of place in the nice restaurant, but then, so is she. Janine clutches her purse and tries not to hunch; she can feel everyone looking at her as she walks out the door.
It’s drizzling outside, but Janine has forgotten her raincoat or even an umbrella. She owns only an old Chesterfield that used to be her sister’s, which she has left at home, hanging in the closet in the foyer. It was nice, once, but the velvet has since worn off the lapels and the elbows are getting threadbare, so Janine is embarrassed to wear it unless she feels she has no choice. As the fine mist turns to a steady rain, Janine wishes she hadn’t been so vain. She begins to walk. Her heel catches on a rough patch in the sidewalk and she stumbles and almost falls, but at the last minute she regains her balance and rights herself. She should go home but she doesn’t want to explain another failure, another broken date, so she wedges herself into an alley and waits for the rain to stop. It’s less of an alley than a large crack in the edifice where the mortar didn’t quite line up in the building. Janine sighs and watches the people hurry by as night falls. She could never be one of them, so carefree in their Wellingtons.
The vibration in her pocket draws her attention from the passersby, and Janine reaches for her phone. She catches sight of her reflection in the screen and she winces, even though she should be used to her own face by now. She raises a finger to trace the scar of the harelip that has never faded, even after all the surgeries. It’s raw and ugly and pulls her smile into a grimace, even on her most joyful days. Janine frowns and watches the sour expression pull tight. Her phone vibrates again and she checks to see her sister’s name before she answers.
“How’s the date going?” Kate asks.
Janine just shrugs, her throat constricting from the cold.
A silence. “Well, I was just about to open a bottle of wine, and I might have a smidgen of tiramisu left, if we’re lucky. Come over. I’m putting on that old Hugh Grant movie you like. Don’t make me watch this without you, you know I can’t do it. It’s the one with the girl, the blonde-what’s her name?-and then they fall in love at the end.”
“I can’t.” Janine says. “And they’re all like that.”
“You can,” Kate says. “Oh, wait, maybe it’s Ewan MacGregor and that one with with the lottery ticket. I think it’s that one. Same girl, though.”
Janine laughs in spite of herself, even though the rain is dripping from her hair and running down the back of her collar. “That one has Nicolas Cage, silly.”
“It doesn’t!” Kate says.
“It does.” Janine’s teeth begin to chatter.
“Well, come prove it, then. Let’s have a girls’ night in,” Kate says.
Janine bites her lip. “I can’t always come running to you when things go wrong.”
“You can,” Kate says. “What are sisters for? If some guy can’t see you for who you are, then it’s his loss. I’ve said it before: I like to spend time with you, Jan. And if it makes you feel better, you can pick up the chips and dip on your way. Deal?”
“Deal. I’ll be there in twenty. Bye.” Janine frees herself from her crevasse and stands upright on the sidewalk. No one notices her; they are all going about their own business. Janine watches their faces as they pass; a man with bad teeth is talking on his cell phone, a teen with too much blusher is rummaging in her purse, a woman on crutches is chatting with her friend, who is wearing an ugly hat. She touches her face. A businessman gripping a black umbrella with a tear in one of the seams bumps her as he hurries by. She starts to move, one of the crowd.
She is filled with serenity as she walks east amidst the sea of strangers.