At Least She Had Good Teeth
So here’s an interesting one for you. Credit where it’s due, my mum has always supported my writing and the other day we got to talking about a story I wrote when I was about 14. It has always been a favourite of mine and hers, but I hadn’t read it in years. After talking to her, I felt compelled to look it out. It had been published in the school magazine so I still have a copy.
Anyway, I read it expecting it to be a lot poorer than I remembered it being…but it wasn’t. I actually still think it’s quite good, and what’s really worrying is that it reads very similarly to the way I write now.
There are issues with it of course; words I would never use now, extraneous phrases, repetition, that sort of thing; and there is a definite naivety in parts. But it doesn’t read as juvenile as I expected it to. In fact, stylistically it seems to me to be very similar to my writing now.
So this leads to an interesting question. At 14 was my writing really good enough that I'd happily compare it to what I produce 20 years later? Or does it in fact mean that my writing just hasn’t evolved at all since then? That as an adult I still write as a child? I’m aware that my writing style is frequently quite conversational and rarely challenging, so is that why? It’s actually just quite immature?
Or, and a definite possibility, am I now reading this through a rose tinted laptop and actually it’s just rubbish?
I have typed this up exactly as it was written, not changing or amending anything, so as I say there are flaws, and one sentence that just makes no sense, but if anyone has a moment and feels like it I’d be interested in your thoughts.
Title: At Least She Had Good Teeth
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 1384
Disclaimer: All characters and situations in this story are property of me.
My relationship with my best friend first started when we were both about five years old and in infant’s school. I made a lot of friends, but the most memorable one was Suzanne. She was in my class and we would sit together throughout all our lessons, and spend all our play times together. One of the major factors that led to us being so close, was that we only lived five doors apart in the same road, making it easy for us to visit each other, even from quite an early age.
The two of us stayed good friends all the way through this part of our school lives and on into junior school, which was the same for both of us. Here the two off us both met a lot of other new people and made many new friends, but the bond of friendship between us remained strong and we still spent most of our time in school and out of school together.
Suzanne and I had always been good friends in the sense that we spent most of our time together and played together. We were also lucky in the fact that our parents got on well together, so going on outings at birthdays and at other times was no problem. At the age that we were, this was all we needed in a friend. Our lives had been too short to have any sort of real problems or complexities or worries, and so our friendship was just one of someone to play with, swim with and go to the park with.
By the time that we were in high school that changed. We both came to the same senior school. Happily Suzanne and I were put in the same form at school. As we were getting older, everyday things started to get more important, and, as pressures from parents, teachers and fellow pupils started to get stronger, and competition grew fiercer, the need for a really good friend did as well, and so did she, but we were still very close and growing ever closer. I have never had any brothers or sisters, but I now felt as if Suzanne were as close to me as a sister and her little brother was like my little brother. I could tell Suzanne absolutely everything and be truthful, and feel like she wasn’t judging me on anything I did.
She appreciated my tastes in clothes and music, and I did hers. We held up no false fronts around each other, as we sometimes did with other people, but we were completely relaxed and natural. I was never happier than when I was around Suzanne, and just thinking about spending time with her made me happy. We had the odd argument of course, but they never lasted for long, and were always trivial. I think we both hoped that this friendship would never end, and we made vows that whatever happened we would keep in touch.
One day I had arranged with Suzanne for her to telephone me at half past seven. I knew that she had gone to the dentist that afternoon and I had been filling her head with horror stories about pain all day and I was now ready to ask how it had gone.
The phone rang at seven thirty five and I went to pick it up, ready to jokingly give Suzanne an ear bashing about phoning me later than she had said she would. As I knew it was going to be her I picked up the phone using a daft accent and saying something suitably stupid for our shared sense of humour.
“Hello, Chinese laundry, how can I help you?”
“Oh I’m sorry, I must have a wrong number.”
I recognised the voice as being Tony, Suzanne’s father.
“Oh, no, Tony, it’s me.
“Oh Kelly, there’s something that I have to tell you.”
After about ten years of being Suzanne’s best friend I knew both of her parents well, and I recognised the pain in Tony’s voice and realised that he was having trouble getting his words out. Already all sorts of terrible thoughts were flashing through my mind, but I dismissed them as quickly as they came.
“Kelly, it was on the way back from the dentist. Um…well, we were walking back home, and um…” His voice began choking up. “We were crossing a road; a car came out of nowhere and…”
His voice faltered again, and choking back a sob he attempted to complete his sentence; “and um…well she um…she didn’t suffer, the doctors say it was instant and she felt no pain.”
Tony stopped talking and my mouth opened and words came out in a voice that didn’t belong to me. An alien voice, speaking words that I didn’t mean or want to say.
“How did it go at the dentist then?”
Tony was obviously shocked and was silent for a minute before answering.
“It was fine. No fillings.”
The alien voice spoke again, “Oh well, at least she had good teeth.” A hand as equally disjointed from my body as my voice hung up the phone.
I stood there in the kitchen, feeling nothing but a growing numbness spreading throughout my whole body and mind. It threatened to overrun me, and without realising I sat on the floor, which was cold and hard. Tony’s last words started to seep back through the haze in my brain. He hadn’t actually said it, but the words “she died, she’s dead” played themselves over and over in my mind, at this point holding no real meaning. Then I remembered what he had said. “She didn’t suffer, she felt no pain.”
I was suddenly very angry. “she felt no pain”? But what about my pain? Why had she done this to me? How could she make me suffer like this?
The anger was followed straight away by cold, hard realisation, but I used the anger to blot it out. I screamed at her, “Why did you die? Don’t you care about me? I loved you. You were my best friend, my sister. How could you do this, it’s not fair.”
No sound actually came out. My vocal chords seemed stuck. I suddenly became aware of a warm wetness on my face, and I realised that I was crying. The salt water tears washed away the anger and left in its place, deep hurt and ain. A hurt that was a liquid fire welled up inside of me and burned throughout my body. A great chasm opened up in my heart and took all the pain in. I then felt a yearning sense of loss and an emptiness inside. My soul joined my heart in mourning for the loss of the best friend that I ever had, my sister, half my life. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was still incapable of making a sound so I couldn’t call for my mum. My limbs were jelly so I couldn’t move. I just sank down further onto the kitchen floor, crying quietly, trying to come to terms with what had happened and letting the aching pain of loss continue on its course around my body. I stayed like that for a full forty minutes until my mum came downstairs to ask why I had been on the phone for so long.
That was about a year and a half ago now and I am largely over Suzanne’s death, although I always think about her and remember the things that we used to do together. I now have a lot of new friends that I am close to, but I don’t feel friendship for them like I did for Suzanne. I also keep in touch with her parents and of course, her brother.
I have never got over what I said to Tony on the phone that day. The insensitivity of “oh well, at least she had good teeth” still troubles me today, although Tony assures me that he understands and in a way can see the comical side of it, as Suzanne was always obsessed with having good looking and healthy teeth.
My life hasn’t been the same since I lost Suzanne, but I am pleased that we shared the ten years that we did.
Anyway, I read it expecting it to be a lot poorer than I remembered it being…but it wasn’t. I actually still think it’s quite good, and what’s really worrying is that it reads very similarly to the way I write now.
There are issues with it of course; words I would never use now, extraneous phrases, repetition, that sort of thing; and there is a definite naivety in parts. But it doesn’t read as juvenile as I expected it to. In fact, stylistically it seems to me to be very similar to my writing now.
So this leads to an interesting question. At 14 was my writing really good enough that I'd happily compare it to what I produce 20 years later? Or does it in fact mean that my writing just hasn’t evolved at all since then? That as an adult I still write as a child? I’m aware that my writing style is frequently quite conversational and rarely challenging, so is that why? It’s actually just quite immature?
Or, and a definite possibility, am I now reading this through a rose tinted laptop and actually it’s just rubbish?
I have typed this up exactly as it was written, not changing or amending anything, so as I say there are flaws, and one sentence that just makes no sense, but if anyone has a moment and feels like it I’d be interested in your thoughts.
Title: At Least She Had Good Teeth
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 1384
Disclaimer: All characters and situations in this story are property of me.
My relationship with my best friend first started when we were both about five years old and in infant’s school. I made a lot of friends, but the most memorable one was Suzanne. She was in my class and we would sit together throughout all our lessons, and spend all our play times together. One of the major factors that led to us being so close, was that we only lived five doors apart in the same road, making it easy for us to visit each other, even from quite an early age.
The two of us stayed good friends all the way through this part of our school lives and on into junior school, which was the same for both of us. Here the two off us both met a lot of other new people and made many new friends, but the bond of friendship between us remained strong and we still spent most of our time in school and out of school together.
Suzanne and I had always been good friends in the sense that we spent most of our time together and played together. We were also lucky in the fact that our parents got on well together, so going on outings at birthdays and at other times was no problem. At the age that we were, this was all we needed in a friend. Our lives had been too short to have any sort of real problems or complexities or worries, and so our friendship was just one of someone to play with, swim with and go to the park with.
By the time that we were in high school that changed. We both came to the same senior school. Happily Suzanne and I were put in the same form at school. As we were getting older, everyday things started to get more important, and, as pressures from parents, teachers and fellow pupils started to get stronger, and competition grew fiercer, the need for a really good friend did as well, and so did she, but we were still very close and growing ever closer. I have never had any brothers or sisters, but I now felt as if Suzanne were as close to me as a sister and her little brother was like my little brother. I could tell Suzanne absolutely everything and be truthful, and feel like she wasn’t judging me on anything I did.
She appreciated my tastes in clothes and music, and I did hers. We held up no false fronts around each other, as we sometimes did with other people, but we were completely relaxed and natural. I was never happier than when I was around Suzanne, and just thinking about spending time with her made me happy. We had the odd argument of course, but they never lasted for long, and were always trivial. I think we both hoped that this friendship would never end, and we made vows that whatever happened we would keep in touch.
One day I had arranged with Suzanne for her to telephone me at half past seven. I knew that she had gone to the dentist that afternoon and I had been filling her head with horror stories about pain all day and I was now ready to ask how it had gone.
The phone rang at seven thirty five and I went to pick it up, ready to jokingly give Suzanne an ear bashing about phoning me later than she had said she would. As I knew it was going to be her I picked up the phone using a daft accent and saying something suitably stupid for our shared sense of humour.
“Hello, Chinese laundry, how can I help you?”
“Oh I’m sorry, I must have a wrong number.”
I recognised the voice as being Tony, Suzanne’s father.
“Oh, no, Tony, it’s me.
“Oh Kelly, there’s something that I have to tell you.”
After about ten years of being Suzanne’s best friend I knew both of her parents well, and I recognised the pain in Tony’s voice and realised that he was having trouble getting his words out. Already all sorts of terrible thoughts were flashing through my mind, but I dismissed them as quickly as they came.
“Kelly, it was on the way back from the dentist. Um…well, we were walking back home, and um…” His voice began choking up. “We were crossing a road; a car came out of nowhere and…”
His voice faltered again, and choking back a sob he attempted to complete his sentence; “and um…well she um…she didn’t suffer, the doctors say it was instant and she felt no pain.”
Tony stopped talking and my mouth opened and words came out in a voice that didn’t belong to me. An alien voice, speaking words that I didn’t mean or want to say.
“How did it go at the dentist then?”
Tony was obviously shocked and was silent for a minute before answering.
“It was fine. No fillings.”
The alien voice spoke again, “Oh well, at least she had good teeth.” A hand as equally disjointed from my body as my voice hung up the phone.
I stood there in the kitchen, feeling nothing but a growing numbness spreading throughout my whole body and mind. It threatened to overrun me, and without realising I sat on the floor, which was cold and hard. Tony’s last words started to seep back through the haze in my brain. He hadn’t actually said it, but the words “she died, she’s dead” played themselves over and over in my mind, at this point holding no real meaning. Then I remembered what he had said. “She didn’t suffer, she felt no pain.”
I was suddenly very angry. “she felt no pain”? But what about my pain? Why had she done this to me? How could she make me suffer like this?
The anger was followed straight away by cold, hard realisation, but I used the anger to blot it out. I screamed at her, “Why did you die? Don’t you care about me? I loved you. You were my best friend, my sister. How could you do this, it’s not fair.”
No sound actually came out. My vocal chords seemed stuck. I suddenly became aware of a warm wetness on my face, and I realised that I was crying. The salt water tears washed away the anger and left in its place, deep hurt and ain. A hurt that was a liquid fire welled up inside of me and burned throughout my body. A great chasm opened up in my heart and took all the pain in. I then felt a yearning sense of loss and an emptiness inside. My soul joined my heart in mourning for the loss of the best friend that I ever had, my sister, half my life. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was still incapable of making a sound so I couldn’t call for my mum. My limbs were jelly so I couldn’t move. I just sank down further onto the kitchen floor, crying quietly, trying to come to terms with what had happened and letting the aching pain of loss continue on its course around my body. I stayed like that for a full forty minutes until my mum came downstairs to ask why I had been on the phone for so long.
That was about a year and a half ago now and I am largely over Suzanne’s death, although I always think about her and remember the things that we used to do together. I now have a lot of new friends that I am close to, but I don’t feel friendship for them like I did for Suzanne. I also keep in touch with her parents and of course, her brother.
I have never got over what I said to Tony on the phone that day. The insensitivity of “oh well, at least she had good teeth” still troubles me today, although Tony assures me that he understands and in a way can see the comical side of it, as Suzanne was always obsessed with having good looking and healthy teeth.
My life hasn’t been the same since I lost Suzanne, but I am pleased that we shared the ten years that we did.