What A Life

Creative writing class again, gotta write a short story. Thinking of submitting this one. I want to hear any and all opinions. Also, opinions on cutting off or continuing after age 4. Please & thanks!

What A Life

 “You’re in the army now, and not behind the plow. You’ll never get rich, diggin a ditch…..” he trails off his song, and a little voice finishes for him, “You’re in tha army noooow!” The little girl seated in the wheelbarrow claps her hands and laughs, and pleads, “Again, Papa, again!” He just laughs, spits some tobacco juice on the sidewalk, and clears his throat to sing some more for his 4 year old granddaughter as he pushes her towards the house in his rusty old wheelbarrow. He can’t help but smile as he sings, she’s just so cute. She’s a little thing with golden blonde hair and brown eyes, and she’s covered head to toe in dirt. Martha wasn’t going to be happy about that, and he knows his daughter’s accusatory eyes will immediately fall on him when she sees her own daughter, who is now the epitome of a mess. But you just couldn’t keep the child out of the garden. She is her Papa’s little helper, and for such a little thing she was a mighty big help out there.

They reach the house at last, and he says “Awright, sugarboog, let’s get inside and get some supper.” “Okay, Papa,” she says as she scrambles out of the wheelbarrow, barefoot as the day she was born. He bends down to her level, reaches behind her ear, and pulls out a beer bottlecap. She squeals with delight and takes the bottlecap in her dirty little hand. She’ll keep it for weeks, asking him over and over to make it disappear and magically reappear. She rushes inside the house, trailing dirt from her filthy little feet, and runs into the kitchen where her mother and grandmother are making dinner. “Mama, Mama, we got all tha onyuns planted taday!!!” Her mother turns around and smiles at her, but her smile quickly disappears when she gets a good look at her daughter. “Heather Breann! What in the world?! How on earth did you manage to get so filthy?” Her grandmother laughs quietly to herself and turns back to the stove, saying  “Aww Martha, you knew that’s what she would look like. She’s been out in the garden with Wesley for goodness sake, what else would you expect?” Heather just stands there smiling, obviously proud of her day of work in the garden and as always, oblivious to her mother’s irritation.

Her grandfather ambles into the kitchen to join the family. He looks at his daughter and says, “Marti-Pooooo, how do you doooo?” Martha looks up at him with a look of annoyance, but when he crosses his eyes and smiles she just laughs out loud and lets it go. “Daddy-Ooooo, how does it goooo?” That was their greeting, and always had been. Wesley goes over to his wife, who is still at the stove, and has a look at what is in her skillet. “Whoooo, sure smells good Rosa Lee!” “Well don’t you touch it Wesley. It’s not done yet and you haven’t washed them dirty ol’ paws of yours.” He pulls his hand back as if offended, and shoots a hurt look towards Heather, who giggles at the scene. “But Rosa Lee, me and the sugarboog have been out in the garden all day. I’m hungry.” After being married for 42 years this wasn’t about to faze her, and as she turns over the chicken fried steaks she simply says, “Well, you’ll just have to wait. Now go clean up and take Heather with you. You both need it.” She smiles down at her little granddaughter, and as soon as Wesley looks away slips her a small bite of chicken fried steak. That was their way, their own little secret, every time she made chicken fried steak. With those big brown eyes looking up at her, how could she say no?

There’s a cry from the other room, and Martha gets up to go check on Heather’s one year old sister Hailey. As her Papa heads towards the bathroom, Heather is right on his heels, mouth full of Maw’s chicken fried steak. In the bathroom, he fills the sink full of water and sits her on the counter. She puts her feet in the sink, as usual, and he gives her a damp washcloth. “Well sugarboog, looks like we gotta clean up before we get our chow.” He goes to work on his own face and hands while she uses the washcloth to clean herself up. She likes that Papa lets her do things herself, and she studies him in the mirror as he cleans up. He’s a big man, a marine, standing at 6’4” with broad shoulders. Despite his intimidating stature, he is gentle as can be. He has tan skin that looks like leather from a lifetime of hard work in the sun, and eyes bluer than any skies could hope to be. Sometimes Heather envied his eyes. Hers were just plain old brown. But she supposed, in her four year old logic, that her eyes couldn’t possibly be as blue as Papa’s. They were part of what made him so special. After determining herself to be clean, she decides to help her Papa finish cleaning up. She finds a hair brush and stands on the counter. She removes his worn out baseball cap and begins brushing his hair. Even standing on the bathroom counter, Wesley towers over her. But he just bends down a little so she can reach and tells her what a good job she's doing.

Once they are somewhat presentable, he sets her back on the tile floor and they  to the kitchen where supper is waiting. She sits at the old, water-stained table and waits for her mother to bring her plate. She watches her grandma finish things up, and takes everything in. She thinks her maw has to be the prettiest grandma in the whole world, with her white blonde hair always perfect styled into a bubble, fair skin, and soft blue-green eyes. She always smelled clean, like soap and powder. There was always time to braid Heather’s fair blonde hair and tie the braids off with whatever breadbag ties Heather had managed to find, and she made the best food in the whole world. She is a quick-witted woman, 9 years Wesley’s junior, and she always brought Heather and Hailey candy from the drug store where she worked.

At the dinner table, Heather looks at her plate. There is chicken fried steak, which she is eating, and mashed potatoes, which are good. But as for the pile of carrots, they remain untouched. She hates carrots. They are soggy and taste funny, even though her momma cooks them with butter and brown sugar. As she sits up on her knees, struggling to see her what's on the tall table, she pushes the carrots around on her plate. Her Papa, who is dousing his own food in Tabasco sauce, notices this. He smiles a mischievous grin and says, “You know sugarboog, if you eat them carrots, they are sure good for you. Make your eyes turn blue.” Heather’s eyes widen at this idea. “Really Papa?” “Well sure. How do you think mine got so blue?” She ponders this in her four-year-old mind for a moment, and then decides that this makes sense. His eyes were awful blue. He laughs quietly to himself as his granddaughter begins shoveling carrots into her mouth. After dinner the whole family gathers in the living room to watch a movie. Heather sits on her Papa’s lap, doing her best to sit still and watch the movie. Papa scratches her back, and the longer she sits there the drowsier and drowsier she gets. Papa always smells of tobacco and rich earth, and his smell comforts her. As her eyelids grow heavier she drifts off to sleep on her Papa’s lap with him scratching her back.

9 years later, Heather jumps out of the car and runs into her grandparents’ house. “Maw, Papa! We won, we won!” She proudly sits the trophy on the coffee table, proud of her first place victory. She is still in her black and orange softball uniform, covered in red dirt and chalk. The child had never been able to stay clean for very long, not even at 13. Her grandparents smile at her excitement, and her Papa says, “Bring it here and let me see, sugarboog.”  She picks it back up and sits on the arm of his chair. She long ago got too big for his lap. She had just had a growth spurt in the last year and grown over 4 inches. She was slender and lanky and one of the best young pitchers in all of North Texas. She was quickly gaining recognition as she struck out countless girls who were much older.  Her grandma came to many of her tournaments, and would stay as long as she could before the heat forced a retreat. She sat in the stands and cheered for only Heather, marking down a tally mark for each strike out on a small scrap of paper. At the end of the day, she would proudly show everyone in the park  a piece of paper covered in tally marks, and explain that each was a strike out and this clearly made her granddaughter the best.

She smiles widely at her Maw in her excitement, revealing a mouthful of braces. Her hair is pulled back into a now messy French braid, and she leaves Papa’s chair and goes to show the trophy to her grandma. She has freckles spread out across her nose and shoulders from the sun, as well as a farmer’s tan from being in the sun wearing a jersey so often. Her dad comes through the door, looking more exhausted than his daughter, but still excited. “Hey there Wes, Rosa Lee.” Both look over their shoulders at him, and Rosa Lee says, “Well hey there, Ron. You’ve got a very excited girl over here.” He just laughs, shakes her Papa’s hand, and collapses on the old, worn out couch.

Despite the toll the heat took on the body, her dad was at every game, coaching and cheering her on. He is not a tall man at only 5’11”, but is solidly built and has the same brown eyes as his daughter. He is sunburned, the area around his eyes whiter than the rest of his red face from where his sunglasses had sat all weekend. They recap on the entire tournament and Heather excitedly tells them how many girls she struck out. Eventually an entire day in the Texas heat catches up with her, and when the adults notice her silence, they look over and realize that she has fallen asleep on the couch in her knee high socks. Half conscious, she can still hear them recapping on the highlights of her weekend, and she smiles before falling into a deep sleep.

“I can’t wait for you to meet them!” she says. A now 17 year old Heather climbs out of the silver Tahoe and meets her boyfriend as he walks to the front of the truck and takes her hand in his. “You will love them both babe, I promise.” She plants a kiss on Matt’s lips before pulling him with her towards her grandparents’ house. They walk through the screen door and are greeted by the smell of chicken fried steak coming from the kitchen. She still loves this place, not much has changed since she was a child. Still two recliners and a couch in the living room, same old brown tile in the kitchen, the same feeling of home.  She pulls Matt in after her, anxious for the boy she loves to meet her two favorite people. She pulls him in front of her grandpa, who hasn’t heard him come in. His hearing is poor and he is wearing special headphones to help him hear his western on TV.

“Hi, Papa.” He looks up at her with those blue eyes and smiles that smile that lights up his whole face. “Hey there sugarboog! Who is this?” She pulls Matt up next to her, and presents the handsome green-eyed boy to her grandfather. “Papa, this is Matt.” She speaks loudly so he can hear her clearly, as she had told Matt to do on the car ride over. Matt steps forward and offers his hand, which Wesley takes in his own huge hand and shakes with enthusiasm. “Nice to meet you sir.” Matt is shyer than everyone else in the house, but seems to loosen up some when her Papa says, “Nice to meet you too son! How’re you.” They strike up a conversation about Matt’s position on the golf team and Heather goes to the kitchen to find her grandmother.

“Hi Maw.” She walks into the kitchen to find her grandmother sitting on a stool at the stove, iron skillet in hand, chicken fried steak in the bottom. “Hey there Heather.” She walks over to the stove next to her grandmother, who hands her a hot piece of chicken fried steak without hesitation. “Is the boy in there?” she asks. “Yeah, he’s talkin to Papa.” Rosa Lee laughs and says, “Well, he’s got a new friend. You’ll never get him back now! He’ll start with the card tricks soon.” They both laugh because it’s the truth, but Heather wouldn’t change a thing about it. This was Matt’s test. He has to get along with her Papa.

She walks into the living room with Maw and introduces her briefly to Matt, who smiles his most charming smile. He watches intently as her Papa shows him card trick after card trick, and he takes Heather’s hand in his and pulls her to him. Her grandma observes from a distance, studying the blonde girl who now stands before her. She’s grown up so fast. She is tall and slender, but not in the same lanky way as she had been when she was 13. She has filled out and put on muscle, giving her an athletic figure. The braces are gone, leaving a perfect white smile in their place. Her blonde hair is cut into long, soft layers around her face and she is wearing blue jeans and a t shirt. She was one of the most promising pitchers in the state, leading all the statistics and on the radar of many college scouts. Although often still dirty after softball practice, she cleaned up well and had grown into a beautiful young woman.

The only part of her that hasn’t changed from her childhood is her light brown eyes, still as full of life and mischief as ever. But there is something new in them as well: love. She can see love written all over her granddaughter’s face, and she fears for her just a little bit. She’s glad for her, for she could see how happy this boy obviously makes her, and he is certainly handsome. It’s clear he loves her too, for when he looks at her you can see that in his eyes, she may as well have hung the moon. But she worries that her fragile heart will get broken. She doesn’t know if she could stand seeing her little granddaughter in that kind of pain.

Suddenly, the rest of Heather’s family arrives. Her mother and two sisters, 14 year old Hailey and 10 year old Hannah enter the house and greet Matt as well. They all sit down to dinner, which is followed by a night of dominos and magic tricks. As she sits and watches Matt try to figure out her Papa’s coin riddles, she feels this surge in her chest. She’s never been so happy. She loves her family, this house, and this boy. What more could a girl ask for. “Babe, I need help.” Matt is looking at her with pleading eyes, unable to solve the riddle in front of him. She reaches over him and quickly moves the coins on the table to the desired pattern, as she has solved this riddle and seen her Papa show countless guests. Matt is stunned by this and scratches his head in confusion, then says, “Okay I think I’ve got it now. Let’s set it up again.” Her Papa bellows a laugh, enjoying the looks of determination on Matt’s face. He loved to stump people. It’s card tricks and riddles all night, and Heather just smiles all the while, thinking, “what a life.”

Years later, her boots crunch on the white gravel of her grandparents' driveway as she walks from her car to their house. Most 20 year old college students might not see their grandparents on a daily basis, but every day this is where she comes after class. She will eat lunch with them in the living room and then head to work. She opens the screen door and steps inside. Both grandparents look over their shoulders and greet her excitedly from their recliners, as if it's a shock that she's stopped by. She sits down on the couch, the weight of her life riding heavily and visibly on her shoulders. As she tells her grandparents about her day so far, her grandmother studies her, as she's always done. She's so proud of the girl, no, the woman, who sits on the worn gray couch. She turned down all of her softball scholarships in high school to take an academic scholarship to a small christian college. She works hard at school and at her job at the local Sherwin Williams paint store. And she works hard to overcome the stress of it all, as well as the pain of what that boy had done.

As RosaLee listens to her granddaughter, she can see that today was a bad day. She is thinking of him and it is obviously weighing heavily on her heart. What Matt had done to her just months ago, after all the years they spent together, was unspeakable. She had watched Heather suffer, listened to Martha's reports that she wasn't eating and was barely sleeping in the weeks after it happened. She had grown stronger recently, smiling most days and putting her all into her schoolwork. But she had bad days, and she knew that this was one. In a matter of minutes, Heather would tell about what news had been passed down to her about him from someone in her small town, what song on the radio had broken her heart, or what truck she had passed on the road that had reminded her of him. Her grandmother would listen intently, then offer words of wisdom that could only come from years of age, experience, and love.

When he comes up, Heather's throat burns as she speaks his name. The word "Matt" tastes like venom on her tongue, but she knows that her grandmother will listen without judgement. If anyone understood her, it was Maw. She knows that what she feels can't be fixed, but that when she's here she can talk. And after the talking is done, there will be Gunsmoke to watch with Papa or, if he's gotten his hands on a Time magazine, a picture puzzle to be done. There is no miracle cure for a broken heart, but if anything can ease the pain, it's being right here.

Author's Note

please please review, this is for a class and i value the opinions of my friends on here! :) i would really like some opinions on whether or not to continue after she falls asleep at age four, or if i should cut if off and end it there. thank you!

Reviews

[Ruth]

For me love, this works well! The story has literally been given a life! Very emotively too! I see nothing wrong at all really, I agree with Tommy on the t shirt part love, aside from that, this is excellent! xx

[Tommy]

Heather, this is very well told! you developed the characters very well, which leaves their impression on the reader's minds throughout. The story is tender, and I think my nieces would get very involved in this read; it has a very sweat feel to it. As I think was intended the grandpa was my favorite character, his humor and way was very captivating, and enjoyable. I would keep the whole story as you have it here, I liked the fullness of it. I have two very small suggestions, I highlighted below with [] and ().

She walks into the living room with Maw and introduces her briefly to Matt, who smiles his most charming smile. He watches intently as her Papa shows him card trick after card trick, and he takes Heather’s hand in his and pulls her to him. Her grandma observes from a distance, studying the blonde girl who now stands before her. She’s grown up so fast. She was tall and slender, but not in the same lanky way as she had been when she was 13. She had filled out and put on muscle, giving her an athletic figure. The braces were gone, leaving a perfect white smile in their place. Her blonde hair was cut into long, soft layers around her face and she is wearing a [pair] jeans and a t shirt that show off her figure.
(You could just say, "wearing jeans and a t-shirt" I think it would read better.)

The only part of her that hasn’t changed from her childhood is her light brown eyes, still as full of life and mischief as ever. But there is something new in them as well: love. She can see love written all over her granddaughter’s face, and she fears for her just a little bit. She’s glad for her, (for) she could see how happy this boy obviously makes her, and he was certainly handsome. It’s clear he loves her too, (for) when he looks at her you can see that in his eyes, she may as well have hung the moon. But she worries that her fragile heart will get broken. She doesn’t know if she could stand seeing her little granddaughter in that kind of pain.
(I would drop the word "for," it works for the flow in poetry, but I don't think it reads right in a story.)

Really great writing!
RLG,
Tommy

[Jim Parson]

This is very moving, Heather, and as is everything you write, beautifully written. If you choose to submit this for class, there are some things you need to fix though. Most of the story is told in the present tense, but you slip into the past tense often. Go back through and check every verb. The other major issue I see is point of view. You've told most of the story from Heather's perspective, but you do slip to other points of view here and there. It really needs to be one consistent POV. Check that out, too. And along with that, if you are writing it from Heather's POV, make sure that her POV is consistent with her age. Would a 4 year-old describe her grandmother as "a quick-witted woman, 9 years Wesley’s junior?" If you fix these issues, you've got an incredible story here. Initially, I also thought the three separate stories (at her three different ages) didn't really mesh together with a strong common denominator, but thinking about it, the grandparents are a strong enough tie, given the strength of your writing. I liked the common denominator of "always dirty" from the first two scenarios, but it doesn't work in the third. Maybe still tie it together by "outgrowing the dirt" somehow as other things became more of an interest. Just a thought.

There are a couple of minor typos and punctuation issues, but nothing to even warrant mentioning. One final edit should catch those. There are two things that did jump out at me though. Would a grandmother ever refer to her husband by his name to their daughter or granddaughter? Or would she say "your dad" or "your papa"? And lastly, coming from a large family of Marines, no self-respecting Marine would ever be caught dead singing an Army song! Ha ha!

I'm off to read your other story now.

[Tate Morgan]

Personally I love the references to softball and grandparents

[Tate Morgan]

A beautiful tale A song of the midwest and the life it lives I also a lover of the simpler life that gives so much to us all

[Coyote Poetry]

The story was wonderful. You brought to life so many strong and interesting characters. I like the Grandpa. Remind me of me. Singing those Army cadets to my poor grand kids. The family was filled with life and the story entertaining. A very strong ending to the story. The story was a pleasure to read. A outstanding story. Thank you.
Coyote