Around Two - Chapter 5
[With Editorial Commentary Below]
Can’t breathe!
I gasped for air as I pushed the blankets off my head. My legs were stiff from sleeping in the fetal position again. How I wish they’d take this cast off.
“Marta,” said a warm female voice. I looked up at my mom. She looked a lot older than the last time I saw her.
“Mom,” I smiled. “Get me out of here.”
Mom looked sad as she tried to smile. She reached for my head just like Flannery did, and I cringed at the memory.
“Who’s Mr. Flannery?”
She sighed. “Baby, that’s Uncle Ed.”
“Uncle?”
“Yes, Uncle Edwin. We lived with him for years, honey.”
I nodded. She sounded frustrated, so I decided to change the subject. “What time is it?”
“It’s--” Mom stiffened and turned to look behind her.
I hadn’t noticed the man in the powder blue dress shirt. He nodded to her as he folded his hands. I’ve seen him before, I think.
“It’s a quarter to two.” I watched her mouth twitch with some withheld emotion. Whatever it was made her breathing more shallow.
I replayed her words in my jumbled head. It’s a quarter to two.
“Fifteen minutes,” I blurted, scrambling out of bed. I threw off my covers with my good arm, though I’m not sure it was my good shoulder. Why am I so sore?
“Marta, stay in bed, sweetie,” Mom pleaded. I glanced at her, then back to my slippers. Left foot, then right. Scratching beneath my cast, I threw on a robe.
“Time?”
“Just get back in bed, we’ll talk some more,” Mom’s voice cracked. “Don’t you want some coffee?”
“Time?” I directed the question at the man in the corner.
He examined his right wrist. “One forty-seven exactly.”
I darted out the door, hearing Mom start to sob. No, don’t listen, have to get to the roof.
The bus was waiting at the stop, completely empty. I stepped on, wondering what I was forgetting. I checked my pockets. Oh, I’m just wearing a robe and a gown. I fastened the robe tight.
“Have a seat, Miss D.”
I sat and listened to the bus rumble forward, then halt again. A single brown loafer invaded my gaze. It was the man from the corner of my room. I’d seen him before that, though.
“Are you following me?” I said as the bus rocked me forward against the next seat.
“Escorting would be more accurate.”
“Why?”
He raised an eyebrow as he fished in his coat pocket for something. He handed me a watch - my watch.
I held it tight to my chest, looking at my cast. I guess I knew it wouldn’t still be on my wrist. I didn’t really think of that. I wondered how he got it, but decided not to ask.
“Thanks, Mr. Loafers,” I mumbled.
He laughed at me. “You like my loafers?”
I watched him lift one to show it off. It was faded and cracked in the creases.
“Not really. But I’ve seen them before. Here on the bus.”
He looked down to contain a smile. Laughing at me again, perhaps?
“It’s not important that you like them,” he said. “What’s important is that you’ve remembered them. That’s enough to make me want to wear them every day.”
“Well, if you’re gonna wear ugly loafers and follow me around everywhere, I should know your name.”
He smirked back at me. “My name is Dr. Samuel Kelley. But if it makes you more comfortable, you can call me Mr. Loafers.”
“Mr. Ugly Brown Loafers.”
Screech!
“Your stop, ma’am.”
I stood and ran for the door, stepping down carefully, then ran straight into the shadows. I heard the loafers catching up to me in the alley.
I tried to climb with my cast, but it wouldn’t fit between the rungs. My heart raced as I tried to fix my elbow on the bottom rung.
“I’m here to help, Marta,” Loafers said with his mocking voice. He watched me prop my elbow up and slip two more times.
“Staring isn’t helping.”
He snickered as he approached, both arms out. He fitted his hands together to make a foothold, looking up at me. His lip wrinkled right by the cut I hadn’t noticed till now. The blood had been his, just like I thought.
“I can’t climb with my cast,” I whined.
“Grab with one hand, hug with the cast. And roll up your sleeve so your arm doesn’t slip.”
I snorted, but took his suggestion. With my robe sleeve out of the way, my arm got enough traction to help me lift my foot. I climbed like this for what seemed like an hour, but I got there. And Loafers followed close. I wasn’t going to lose him now, might as well get used to him.
I scanned the roof. No birds and no redheads. No Flannery... or Uncle Edwin. “What time is it?”
“You tell me.” Mr. Loafers sat on the floor against the ledge, ignoring the beautiful view behind him.
Oh, yeah. My watch. I took it out of my robe pocket. 1:42. What?
“Well?”
“It’s broken,” I replied.
“No, not broken,” he said, checking his pocket watch. “I’ve taken very good care of it. I must’ve been neglecting my own, however, since it’s about fifteen minutes fast.”
I frowned at him, clutching my watch as I walked to my bench. I resolved to push him off this roof, if the opportunity ever presented itself. What a snake.
I reached for my note, but it was at home in my jeans pocket. I sighed and looked at my watch, clutching it in my fist. There was a small blood stain in the crevice where it fastened. His blood again, probably.
“Jen got flowers together for you...”
I stared at the bench. My bench had a man sitting on it. I froze, taking in his image. He wasn’t old, maybe mid twenties. He had brown hair and faint eyebrows that furrowed over squinted eyes. He wasn’t looking at me; just staring into the horizon, or maybe at a far off building.
“...and Mr. F made sure everyone signed the card.” He looked down at his hands. In them, he clutched an open wallet with a small photo facing him.
I couldn’t make out the photo without invading his privacy. So I just sat on the other end of the bench, trying to see what he’d been gazing at.
“I still have all your letters.” The young man smiled, still staring ahead. He was attractive, but not as young looking as in my dreams. Or my memories?
My left hand lifted before my mind could object. “Hi,” I said.
His smile faded and his eyes flitted down to the picture.
“I’m Mist--” my voice wavered, “um, Marta.” The name sounded odd from my own lips, but I felt like I’d said it before. My left arm began to quake as a pain shot through my shoulder. I wasn’t sure if I could hold my arm up much longer. But I was even less sure whether this man was rude or imaginary.
Please, just shake my hand already!
To Be Continued…
[Comments: The tense switches frequently into present and back to past. If these switches are deliberate style choices, they should be used sparingly and with intent. Left as they are, they look accidental.
Dr. Kelley checks a watch on his right wrist and later checks a pocket watch. Why does he have multiple watches, one of which he wears on the same wrist as Marta? The odds are slim that he is also left-handed, especially if he’s of a generation that was discouraged from using the left hand to write and eat. Without any explanation, these details are a potential distraction.
Marta doesn’t know why her body is very stiff, and she seems to notice her hand in a cast for the first time. How much time has lapsed between the end of chapter 4 and now, and what’s happened in the time she’s lost?
Actions: Pick a tense and stick to it
Figure out the wristwatch situation so it doesn’t take attention from the plot
In order to maintain consistency and avoid confusion, outline character profiles and world details that can be referenced before drip-feeding details into the scenes
Details to remember:
Characters: Mom (first appearance), Dr. Samuel Kelley (AKA Mr. Loafers/Man in alley), Uncle Edwin Flannery, Unknown Man on Roof
Locations: Marta’s bedroom
Marta sleeps with her head covered
Could the guy on the bench be T?
He seems sad and far off, and could be the sad man on the bench previously mentioned
She seems repelled by her uncle and Dr. Kelley, not sure why yet
Marta’s thoughts reveal a plan to push Dr. Kelley off the roof at some point
Jen, who works with Mr. F/Uncle Ed, brought flowers for some reason, maybe a celebration or a memorial
The man on the bench stares at a picture in his wallet
He says he still has Marta’s letters
She seems to remember him]
