Wendy Chapter 2: The Flood

Trouble finds Wendy

Chapter Two: The Flood

 

 

Uncle Philip was waiting for me at the mall fountain at eleven o'clock the next day. The reflected light from the fountain played across his face. He was handsome, with blue eyes and even features, but his hair was now more silver than salt and pepper. We hugged as he gave me a hearty kiss on each cheek.

 

“How's my favorite niece?” Uncle Philip was as exuberant as always. He clucked his tongue and said, “Look at you, you need a wardrobe update. What have I told you about all those dark old clothes?” I looked down at my plain charcoal blouse with dark jeans. “You need some color.”

 

“Well, Uncle Philip, I can't splurge today, I didn't do well on tips yesterday.”

 

“Surely you can get a new top. Or we could accessorize you. You need a scarf to brighten up that outfit.” He tugged at my collar.

 

We pushed into the cool, fragrant air of the department store. I allowed Uncle Philip to talk me into buying a new blouse as well as a fringed purple scarf. Upon his urging, I ended up walking out with it wound around my neck.

 

We decided to have lunch at Pomodoro's, adjacent to the mall. I started out briskly, feeling quite hungry, but noticed Uncle Philip seemed to be laboring to keep up. I slowed down.

 

“Uncle Philip, are you okay?”

 

“Just tired out by following around a young thing like you.”

 

His skin was a funny color, pale but sort of sallow. I steered him to a bench.  “Let’s sit.”

 

Looking more carefully, his clothes seemed loose on his broad frame. Could it be something serious?

 

“Uncle Philip, I’m worried about you.”

 

“Not to worry dear, I’m just feeling my age.”

 

“Have you seen Dr. Zimmerman recently?”

 

“I just got a clean bill of health. Really, there’s nothing wrong.”

 

I had to be satisfied with that. When Uncle Philip didn’t want to discuss something, there was no budging him.  

 

He took this opportunity to question me about my love life-- or, rather, my lack thereof.

 

“Nope, there’s no one,” I assured him.

 

“Nothing on the radar at all? No good-looking new coworkers?”

 

“No new men.”

 

We chatted a bit longer, about the fashions we’d seen on display, until I was satisfied Uncle Philip was looking better. We set off again, keeping to a slower pace that seemed to tax Uncle Philip less.

 

He held open one of the heavy wooden doors carved with grape vines. The interior of the restaurant was dim, smelling of tomato sauce and fried foods. We followed the hostess between ranks of ferns and settled into a booth with over-sized menus. I tried to find something that wasn't smothered in cheese, eventually settled on spaghetti  bolognese.

 

“The company picnic is coming up. Do you want to come with me?” I asked.

 

“A free lunch and a chance to gossip? Of course I do. Unless...”

 

“Yes?”

 

“You could go with that Eric fellow.” He said this with a glint in his eye.

 

“He's going to be there anyway.”

 

“Not the same at all, little Missy. You need to give him a chance to woo you.”

 

“Woo me? I don't think so. We're just friends.” I reached for the pepper grinder, but I was surprised by Uncle Philip putting his hand on my arm.

 

“Life is short, honey. Don't let it pass you by. Grab what you can with both hands.” He looked into my eyes.

 

Uncle Philip was rarely serious.

 

“Do you think Eric likes me?” Something inside me jumped. I had never thought of Eric that way. Not really.

 

Uncle Philip let go of my arm. “If he showed that much interest in me, I'd have asked him to marry me already.” Back to his normal self.

 

Wanting to change the subject, I asked, “Why don’t you ever ask Pam out to lunch? Why just me?”

 

“Darling, I do believe she is a homophobe. I asked her several times. Your mother probably told her tales about San Francisco and my ‘lifestyle.’ “

 

That made sense. Normally Pam was all for what she could get, but had never been enthusiastic about Uncle Philip, despite his open hand with gifts and treats.

 

“Her loss. No one could have a better uncle than you.”

 

“Thank you, honey.”

 

Then I noticed that the pink color of his face had drained away again.

 

“Are you sure you’re OK, Uncle Philip?” I asked.

 

“This old man is worn out. It's time for my beauty sleep. A nice nap will set me right.”

 

 

***

 

At five the next day, I finished my last room and clocked out. As I was fetching my lunch bag, Eric exclaimed, “Oh s**t.”

 

He had the back door to housekeeping open. It was still pouring rain, as it had been for hours.

 

“There go the trash cans,” he said. I peered around him. At the foot of the hill behind the hotel, the residential street was coursing with water, large plastic trash cans bobbing along like corks. The water was creeping up the sides of parked cars, almost up to the hubcaps now. As we watched, a car advanced, throwing up wings of water.

 

“No wonder the night shift hasn't shown up.”

 

 “Who else is here?” I asked.

 

Eric was working second shift. I had stayed late finishing up a couple of stray rooms. Most of the day shift left at four, our usual quitting time.

 

“Just Dave, I think. Sean left last, right when the rain started coming down hard,” Eric responded.

 

Of course we had to be stuck with Dave. It couldn't have been Brenda, the assistant manager. Just my luck.

 

Turning away from the downpour, Eric said, “Time for me to get back to work. I guess Johnny won't be in.”

 

Eric clipped his radio on his belt and left me alone at the back door, watching the rain. The watery afternoon sky was veiled and all I could see was the streaking rain. A fine mist of rain penetrated the screened door, dew on my cheeks. Then something frigid stroked my spine. The scrape of a shoe against the concrete floor made me turn, to find Dave looking at me. High hanging fluorescent lights created patches of cold blue light in the shadowy room. What was a bright, bustling place during the day was now empty. We were alone. His eyes raked me from head to toe, lingering and invasive. The silence bore down upon me; sound disappeared in the vast chamber, isolating me from the rest of the hotel.  

 

“Hello, Wendy. It's a pleasure to have your company tonight.”

 

Dave had never expressed any pleasure with my presence. An ugly smile crawled across his face as he made his way around the folding table, stopping very close to me. Alarms went off in my head. I stepped back, protecting my personal space. He took another step, pushing into my space again.

 

“I understand Brenda gave you some overtime.”

 

I stepped back again, hackles raised. “I did her a favor. I finished the fourth floor for her.”

 

“You could do me a favor.”  His eyes roamed from my face to my body again and he licked his lips. “Do you want more overtime?”

 

He advanced another step. The cold, angular handle of the dryer door pushed against my back. I couldn't get father away. The brown edges of his blue irises, like muddy ice, were inches from my own. Trapped against the machines, I slid sideways, away from his breath and heat. Fear radiated out from my heart, tightening up every muscle.

 

“No one else is coming in tonight,” he said in a low voice. “We're all alone.”

 

I inched my hand into my pocket, curled my fingers around my phone. Adrenaline raised the hair on my neck, making my scalp creep.

 

“I'll have to call my sister.” I pulled out the phone, sliding further along.

 

Dave placed a hand on the dryer, blocking my escape. “You won't get a signal in here.”

 

I tried to squeeze myself further into my corner but there was no more room.

 

Eric pushed through the swinging doors from the hotel corridor. Dave dropped his arm and stepped away. With great relief, I watched him as he went back to his office. Eric started making his way to the stand that held the radio charger, then noticed me plastered against the dryers. He must have seen something on my face because he changed direction. He glanced at Dave’s retreating back.

 

“What's up Wendy?”

 

I didn't know what to say. Had Dave just propositioned me?  I felt myself flush. “Nothing. Dave just... Do you think there’s any way I can get home tonight?”

 

“Maybe in a few hours if the rain stops. It's already slowing down. Why? The front desk will give us rooms. I already spoke to Peter. Dave didn't tell you to go to Peter for a room?”

 

“No. Not yet I guess. I'd rather go home.” My voice sounded small and weak.

 

“Wendy, what's wrong? Did Dave do something?”

 

I didn't answer.

 

“We need to get you a room,” Eric said.

 

He put his hand on my shoulder, steering me towards Dave's office. I let him propel me. He stuck his head through the office door, hand still on me. His touch felt safe and protective.

 

“Dave, I'm taking Wendy up to Peter to get a room.”

 

Dave grunted, not looking up from his papers. Eric must have taken that as permission because he led me away, letting go of my shoulder once we got into the corridor. We walked down the service corridor to the front desk in silence. The lobby was an oasis of warm light, unlike the housekeeping area with its inadequate, cold lighting. Peter sat in his usual spot just outside the front offices, behind the counter. He rose, smiling, seeing us approach. I didn't know Peter, but Eric seemed quite friendly with him. He spoke for me, asking Peter for a room for my use.

 

“Give her 604, next to mine.” Turning to me he said, “I'll walk you up.”

 

Once we were in the elevator, Eric asked, “What happened, Wendy? What did Dave do?”

 

 What had happened? Dave asked me if I wanted overtime. He acted like a complete creep and invaded my space, but he had only asked me if I wanted overtime.

 

“Nothing,” I responded. “He just asked me about doing overtime. Really.” Seeing his expression, I tried to assure him with more conviction. “I'm sure it was just me. He didn't do anything.”

 

“Latch your door from the inside. Don't open it for anybody but me.” Eric scrutinized my face and then set off down the corridor.

 

I latched the door as instructed. I did need to call Pam, so I got out my phone. Discovering that although grumpy and complaining, she was okay, I turned on the TV. It was hard to concentrate on the news. Flash flood warnings, video of flooded streets, newscasters reporting from under umbrellas. I switched to another channel, then another. I settled on a cheesy Bond movie, one of Uncle Philip’s favorites, the one with Christopher Walken.  

 

I woke and bolted upright when I heard a knock on the door. Disoriented, I tried to shake off the recurring dream I’d had. This time in my dream Bruce was shoving me against industrial dryers, not the door to my bedroom. My breath felt strangled. It was the same trapped feeling. I’d managed to build a new life, escape being trapped by Bruce, by my mother, by the chaos and violence, but I couldn’t escape the past in my dreams. I shoved the feelings down.

 

Rubbing my face, I checked my hair in the mirror. I didn’t look as bad as I felt. Answering the knock, I cracked the door. It was Eric, holding two take out containers. Unlatching the inner catch, I opened the door wide for him. The smell of french fries wafted up.

 

“Could I eat with you? I brought something for you too.” He handed me one of the boxes. “I hope you like chicken fingers.”

 

“Sure, come in, sit down. I love chicken fingers.” I led the way to the small table by the window.

 

“It's nice having someone to eat with. Johnny studies right through his break, no chit chat. I swear he eats textbooks for dinner. That's why I like having lunch with you when I'm on first shift. Second shift gets pretty lonely.”

 

It gave me a little glow to hear he liked lunching with me.

 

“I took a look outside just now,” he said after a few bites of chicken. “It's stopped raining and I think the streets up here are clear. I expect you could make it home now, unless you have to cross the river.”

 

“I live in downtown Aiken, this side of the river. I'd like to get home. Sleeping in my own bed and fresh clean clothes in the morning sounds a lot better than waking up here.”

 

“You've got that right. I'm off tomorrow. I'll be able to sleep off this double shift. The overtime will be nice though.”

 

I didn't want to think about the topic of overtime. Eric's mind evidently had drifted in the same direction.

 

“If Dave bothers you again, tell Brenda.” He looked at me, quite serious.

 

“No, it was nothing. I'm okay.” I looked up at Eric. “Thank you. For getting me a room and everything.”

 

"No problem. Let me walk you to your car."

Author's Note

Any comments welcome. Thanks for reading!

Reviews

[Forever and a Night]

Nice chapter. Here's a few things I found.

“How's my favorite niece?” Uncle Philip was as exuberant as always. He clucked his tongue and said, “Look at you, you need a wardrobe update. What have I told you about all those dark old clothes?” I looked down at my plain charcoal blouse with dark jeans. “You need some color.” (I think the sentence I looked down ought to be attached to her next bit of dialogue.)

We decided to have lunch at Pomodoro's, adjacent to the mall. I started out briskly, feeling quite hungry, but noticed Uncle Philip seemed to be laboring to keep up. I slowed down. (I got a bit hung up on these last sentence. Here's a suggestion: My stomach grumbled with hunger. I started out at a brisk pace, then I noticed Uncle Philip laboring to keep up, so I slowed down to let him catch up to me.) Just a suggestion.

His skin was a funny color, pale but sort of sallow. I steered him to a bench. “Let’s sit.” (I think she needs to convey more worry here somehow. Maybe here you can tell us a bit more about uncle Philip. Is he usually a robust man? Now that it appears he's lost weight and his coloring is off, I'd think she'd feel fear.)

“Nope, there’s no one,” I assured him.

“Nothing on the radar at all? No good-looking new coworkers?”

“No new men.” (Really? If not okay, but if there is a love interest coming up here's a great place for her to think about this hottie even if she keeps it to herself.)

I really like Eric. I think he will make a good love interest for Wendy. Maybe it's the romance writer in me, but I'd like to see more going on there if in later chapters something is suppose to develop. Even if not, I like the fact he smells a rat where Dave is concerned. He's a snake who reminds her of Bruce. If Bruce sexually abused her, I'd like to see more fear on her part both in the incident and in her dream. In her dream you can bring out a bit more about Bruce's abuse and maybe how it's affected Wendy and it would deeply. It might even be why she can't or won't get close to guys or think of anything serious with Eric.
Also, I'm wondering what Eric looks like. Can you through Wendy's POV tell us more?
This really is a good story. The most I can say is the scenes need more weight meaning, bring in the five senses in everywhere you can. What does Wendy feel, smell, see, hear, taste? You understand showing and not telling well, but don't be afraid to show us how she feels or thinks by her actions.
All in all you've got a good story going and once you flesh it out a bit more, I wouldn't be afraid to seek out a publisher. It has definite potential.
Hope this helps!
Happy writing.
Lana

[SweetNutmeg]

Thank you very much for your comments, large and small. Show don't tell is the bane of my existence. I can see it when others do a good job of showing, but I have a devil of a time with it in my own writing. I could also do more with dialogue. There is always room to improve, and I've got enough room to dock the Titanic. Thanks again, all your comments are helpful.

[Shep]

Daves dirt all around dirtbag you got his character down pat. I like Eric A lot I can't wait to see what develops there overall a nice bit of writing.

[SweetNutmeg]

Yeah, Dave really is a dirt bag. I enjoy hating him. Thank you once again for reading and reviewing.

[Shannon]

I really enjoyed this chapter.

Uncle Phillip and lunch. I think it works. I was going to suggest more small talk, but I think the shopping trip does that. So, I am then left wondering about the transition between shopping and lunch. You introduce the restaurant in the shopping section. Just have them flow into one another might feel more complete?

I agree Dave's scene is well written and tense.

Actually the character I feel like we need to know more about is Eric. He likes Wendy, sure, but he's a little...nit filled out as a character. That being said, it's early in the story, yet, so maybe that's coming.

Good tension created. The relationships are forming well, without bogging down the story. Looking forward to reading more.

[SweetNutmeg]

Thank you for reading and reviewing. I edited the chapter, making the transition from shopping to dining more smooth, I hope. Eric does become a bit more interesting as the story progresses, but he doesn't really round out much. He's sort of static. A real flaw, but I am unsure how to correct that. It may be impossible to do. This is my very first attempt at a longer piece and I wrote it without a whole lot of tutoring, so I am treating it as a learning exercise, to hopefully improve my future writing. I'm doing the preliminary work for a new piece and incorporating all that I am learning here, paying attention to characterization especially.

Your comments are super helpful and I appreciate your careful reading and thoughtful feedback.

[AUU]

That was a very tense and well written scene with Dave. I particular liked the obtrusive, violating way you used the handle pressing up on her back.

Dinner with uncle Philip was alright. You did a well enough job showing that Wendy cares about him, and he her; showed more of that differing family dynamic too (mom and pam's opinion of him), which was fantastic.

And yeah. I never wrote a gay character before, but I'ver READ about people struggling with writing gay characters.In your description of the book you said you know some of the characters are cliche. I take it you are talking about uncle Philip and discussing Wendy's outfit? I suppose that if he's a man who likes to talk about clothing, and is gay, then leave those traits, but you'll just have to be extra diligent about defining him. Give him a quirk or too that isn't something most people would attribute as being "gay."

You wanted to know about Brenda in the earlier chapter. I like how you handled it here. Eric telling Wendy to go to Brenda if Dave is bothering her is a better way to let the reader know about her then a simple passing "How do you do?"

Keep it up!

[SweetNutmeg]

Thank you for your encouraging words about the Dave encounter. It's good to know what I am getting right. The uncle initially gave me zero qualms, as I am basing him on a real person, not on stereotypes gleaned from the media. But apparently my real life model is a bit of a caricature. I do give Uncle Philip a lively interest in basketball and cars from the 1980's later on, but I don't mention it until chapter 7 or something. Maybe I should work it in sooner? It's something to think about.

Thank you again for your time and attention. It is much appreciated.

[AUU]

You are talented, so I'm certain you'll figure it out.

I'm finding that small details make the world of difference. And it's really exciting process of adding them once you're sure on characters. I don't exactly know what you intend with the 1980s and uncle Philip (It's really hard for me not to call him uncle Phil, too much fresh prince lol). That sounds interesting. Just to give you an example of what I meant about details. You could have uncle Philip quote some 80s movie when he's giving Wendy advice, or when Wendy is falling asleep instead of being just an old scifi movie she's watching, you could have it be a 80s movie that Wendy associates with uncle Philip.

I'm looking forward to reading more!

[Peter Rogerson]

I wonder if you could use a larger font? My elderly eyes struggle with a small one. By the way, you're really good at dialogue.

[SweetNutmeg]

Thank you for the review! I love dialogue and I feel especially accomplished that I know where to put punctuation when using quotes. Took me a while to learn that.

This whole site is in tiny font so I enlarge the entire site 125% and zoom more as needed. But I will enlarge the font on my following chapters. You and I are not the only ones who find the font on here difficult.

[Peter Rogerson]

It looks much better now! Geriatric eyes can now cope!
What I do is write on a word processing program (I use Libre Office (free download!!!) which is virtually identical to Open Office (also free) and both of these programs (if you haven't used them) are first class. I then set the Paragraph style to Text Body, the font size to 14 and this sorts everything out before I cut and paste to writerscafe. I then highlight the while thing and tell it to be 14 font again because otherwise the opening speech marks appear tiny. Phew!

[SweetNutmeg]

It's pretty easy to use Word with this site. I prefer Open Office, but not that many people use it and I work with individuals off WritersCafe. If they use Word, I use Word because compatibility is a nightmare. Which highly annoys me as I feel Open Office is superior.

[Peter Rogerson]

I have no problems with compatibility, but I probably do less than you with fewer other sites. I will admit that when I post on Wordpress there are compatibility problems, but as it's usually the same stuff that I put on writerscafe I find that if I copy and paste from the cafe to Wordpress everything comes out right!