Becoming Lovely, Chapter Five
Title: Becoming Lovely, Chapter Five
Form: Novella
Written: November, 2010
Rating: M (just to be safe)
Word Count: 1,200 (this chapter), 16,000 (total)
Summary: Mia's best friend died five minutes after confessing to cheating with her boyfriend. Now Mia wants to change herself, and becoming someone different.
Authors Notes: This was written for the Somerset Novella Competition 2011. It's been a long time coming onto the web because of this. Suffice to say I didn't win anything. However, enjoy.
Mum’s got me and Leslie peeling potatoes for dinner. Yesterday’s conversation in the bookstore has set me off trying to read myself and determine some theory that links the books I read with who I am as a person, but I seem too unsteady to pin myself down. Or maybe I’m even worse at reading myself than I am at reading other people. It’s like some ironic twist for a person who aced comprehension at school. But then again, seeing what people want you to see is a lot different from seeing what people don’t want you to see.
I was never good at picking out lies either.
Leslie is fantastic at it. But Leslie is perceptive and Leslie knows that she will rule her own world with that power.
Somehow, I’ve ended up with one of the dirtiest potatoes in the pile and Leslie has one of the cleanest, whitest ones you could ever buy. At first, all I see between the two types is that Dad sucks at sticking to a budget when shopping because he buys on impulse and anything with a yellow sticker is up for grabs for putting, where as Mum knows it’s cheaper to just buy something that didn’t get cleaned before going on the shelves.
Somehow, the thoughts about me and potatoes get muddled and I’m thinking about how I would have been the really clean small potato that Leslie is peeling when I was five. And now I would be the potato that’s in my hands, lumpy with pockets of dirt stuck in the ridges and ridiculously difficult to peel.
I continue with this thread and work out another analogy, something that reeks of the influence the education system has placed on me over the years. I think about how my decision to become unblemished and strip away everything of my old life that isn’t working for me any more is like peeling this dirty potato. Does that mean that it’s going to be as hard as peeling this potato? Or did Alicia’s death put a blast of water onto me, and make it a simpler, cleaner job?
* * *
I’m playing solitaire again tonight. I check my inbox, and the only thing in there is a message from Facebook alerting me to the fact that I cancelled my service with them. The way they call it a service is like they actually did something for me, something bigger. Like send me the daily newspaper or something along those lines. But instead I just got other peoples rubbish and a way to have spam and idiots get in touch with me.
While staring at my empty inbox, I try to work out how long it will take Tessa to work out that I have no Facebook and call me, complaining.
I cringe at the conversation that plays out in my head. And then cringe when my mobile goes off. I remind myself to change the ring tone, because the instant buzzing is annoying and cruel to my ears.
It is Tessa. I can’t believe it.
I contemplate ignoring it.
“Hey babe, how you going?”
I don’t.
I stare at the computer. I stare out of the break in the drapes into the background. “Fine, Tessa. What do you want?”
I feel pretty formal, if not a little cold and bitchy. But I’ve always been like this to Tessa. And she’s always been like this to me, a little too bubbly to be real. A little too friendly for her not to want something.
“I wanted to know how you were doing. I’m missing you here, babe!”
I make a noise in the back my throat that sounds like a noise that I hear the neighbour’s dog make when I walk past it in the afternoons coming back from school. It’s a bit like a grunt. I’m just a tad impressed that I can make it, and stay silent, distracted by this oddity.
“How’s Sydney?” Last I’d seen Tessa, she’d been crying, because she was going to Sydney so that she could spend some time with a cousin before Christmas, and she didn’t want me to be alone with everyone on Schoolies and holidays. And I wasn’t supposed to be left alone after the tragedy of Alicia’s death.
Her intentions were nice. But I never really wanted her intentions.
“Sydney is amazing!” she squeals, and I imagine her throwing a hand in the air, her face open in a way that only she can do. “Bondi is beautiful and oh my god there’s this really hot guy and it’s just so amazing. I’m missing you like crazy, Mia! I’m driving everyone nuts.”
I nodded to myself, and then lay on my bed.
I’m not missing her at all. “That really is amazing.”
She doesn’t skip a beat, going straight on to the real reason for her call. “Did you know your Facebook profile’s gone?”
“I would hope so. I pressed the delete button.”
“Why would you do something like that? Are you crazy?”
“Yes. I am.” I guess we’re not really friends since it’s not on Facebook anymore, I want to say, but I don’t, because that really is too cruel, even for me. Just because Tessa sounds and acts just a little too overdramatic for my liking doesn’t mean she’s not like me inside. I know she’s normally human inside. Because I’ve seen it. Alicia saw it all the time, would remind me that Tessa was human with emotions just like me.
One of the biggest mysteries, I found, was why Alicia even was my friend.
“You there, Mia?”
“Sure.”
“I’ve got to go. My credit’s running out.”
“Sure. Cool. Bye.”
“We’ll talk soon, k?”
I nod and again to myself and try and work out how to extract myself from her without being so cruel as to hurt her fragile emotions when Alicia isn’t here to patch up anymore. I think maybe she was one of the reasons that when I was really bad to people at school, they never ran away. Because she saw something beyond my destructive manner, and told them all to stick around to see it when it finally snuck up.
I remember a fight that Tessa and I had once. Tessa had said something about how Alicia had told her that I was nice, and how Tessa wasn’t sure where she was supposed to see it in me.
The next day it had all been forgotten.
The next day Alicia had died. I’d wanted to talk about the fight with her when Alicia had confessed what Tom and she had been getting up to without me knowing. Tom’s indiscretion and her betrayal.
Tessa’s argument with me had faded in the face of that news. And then that blue car had plummeted into the driver’s side of our car, right where Alicia was sitting.
Chapter Six
Form: Novella
Written: November, 2010
Rating: M (just to be safe)
Word Count: 1,200 (this chapter), 16,000 (total)
Summary: Mia's best friend died five minutes after confessing to cheating with her boyfriend. Now Mia wants to change herself, and becoming someone different.
Authors Notes: This was written for the Somerset Novella Competition 2011. It's been a long time coming onto the web because of this. Suffice to say I didn't win anything. However, enjoy.
Mum’s got me and Leslie peeling potatoes for dinner. Yesterday’s conversation in the bookstore has set me off trying to read myself and determine some theory that links the books I read with who I am as a person, but I seem too unsteady to pin myself down. Or maybe I’m even worse at reading myself than I am at reading other people. It’s like some ironic twist for a person who aced comprehension at school. But then again, seeing what people want you to see is a lot different from seeing what people don’t want you to see.
I was never good at picking out lies either.
Leslie is fantastic at it. But Leslie is perceptive and Leslie knows that she will rule her own world with that power.
Somehow, I’ve ended up with one of the dirtiest potatoes in the pile and Leslie has one of the cleanest, whitest ones you could ever buy. At first, all I see between the two types is that Dad sucks at sticking to a budget when shopping because he buys on impulse and anything with a yellow sticker is up for grabs for putting, where as Mum knows it’s cheaper to just buy something that didn’t get cleaned before going on the shelves.
Somehow, the thoughts about me and potatoes get muddled and I’m thinking about how I would have been the really clean small potato that Leslie is peeling when I was five. And now I would be the potato that’s in my hands, lumpy with pockets of dirt stuck in the ridges and ridiculously difficult to peel.
I continue with this thread and work out another analogy, something that reeks of the influence the education system has placed on me over the years. I think about how my decision to become unblemished and strip away everything of my old life that isn’t working for me any more is like peeling this dirty potato. Does that mean that it’s going to be as hard as peeling this potato? Or did Alicia’s death put a blast of water onto me, and make it a simpler, cleaner job?
* * *
I’m playing solitaire again tonight. I check my inbox, and the only thing in there is a message from Facebook alerting me to the fact that I cancelled my service with them. The way they call it a service is like they actually did something for me, something bigger. Like send me the daily newspaper or something along those lines. But instead I just got other peoples rubbish and a way to have spam and idiots get in touch with me.
While staring at my empty inbox, I try to work out how long it will take Tessa to work out that I have no Facebook and call me, complaining.
I cringe at the conversation that plays out in my head. And then cringe when my mobile goes off. I remind myself to change the ring tone, because the instant buzzing is annoying and cruel to my ears.
It is Tessa. I can’t believe it.
I contemplate ignoring it.
“Hey babe, how you going?”
I don’t.
I stare at the computer. I stare out of the break in the drapes into the background. “Fine, Tessa. What do you want?”
I feel pretty formal, if not a little cold and bitchy. But I’ve always been like this to Tessa. And she’s always been like this to me, a little too bubbly to be real. A little too friendly for her not to want something.
“I wanted to know how you were doing. I’m missing you here, babe!”
I make a noise in the back my throat that sounds like a noise that I hear the neighbour’s dog make when I walk past it in the afternoons coming back from school. It’s a bit like a grunt. I’m just a tad impressed that I can make it, and stay silent, distracted by this oddity.
“How’s Sydney?” Last I’d seen Tessa, she’d been crying, because she was going to Sydney so that she could spend some time with a cousin before Christmas, and she didn’t want me to be alone with everyone on Schoolies and holidays. And I wasn’t supposed to be left alone after the tragedy of Alicia’s death.
Her intentions were nice. But I never really wanted her intentions.
“Sydney is amazing!” she squeals, and I imagine her throwing a hand in the air, her face open in a way that only she can do. “Bondi is beautiful and oh my god there’s this really hot guy and it’s just so amazing. I’m missing you like crazy, Mia! I’m driving everyone nuts.”
I nodded to myself, and then lay on my bed.
I’m not missing her at all. “That really is amazing.”
She doesn’t skip a beat, going straight on to the real reason for her call. “Did you know your Facebook profile’s gone?”
“I would hope so. I pressed the delete button.”
“Why would you do something like that? Are you crazy?”
“Yes. I am.” I guess we’re not really friends since it’s not on Facebook anymore, I want to say, but I don’t, because that really is too cruel, even for me. Just because Tessa sounds and acts just a little too overdramatic for my liking doesn’t mean she’s not like me inside. I know she’s normally human inside. Because I’ve seen it. Alicia saw it all the time, would remind me that Tessa was human with emotions just like me.
One of the biggest mysteries, I found, was why Alicia even was my friend.
“You there, Mia?”
“Sure.”
“I’ve got to go. My credit’s running out.”
“Sure. Cool. Bye.”
“We’ll talk soon, k?”
I nod and again to myself and try and work out how to extract myself from her without being so cruel as to hurt her fragile emotions when Alicia isn’t here to patch up anymore. I think maybe she was one of the reasons that when I was really bad to people at school, they never ran away. Because she saw something beyond my destructive manner, and told them all to stick around to see it when it finally snuck up.
I remember a fight that Tessa and I had once. Tessa had said something about how Alicia had told her that I was nice, and how Tessa wasn’t sure where she was supposed to see it in me.
The next day it had all been forgotten.
The next day Alicia had died. I’d wanted to talk about the fight with her when Alicia had confessed what Tom and she had been getting up to without me knowing. Tom’s indiscretion and her betrayal.
Tessa’s argument with me had faded in the face of that news. And then that blue car had plummeted into the driver’s side of our car, right where Alicia was sitting.
Chapter Six