Give me a Break

Love affair gone bad. The cheating husband wants to make amends.

Give Me A Break

A Story by Linda Wells

If anyone needed to get a life and move on, it was Taylor. The world he created for himself was nothing short of fantasy. He believed it, and thought everyone else should also.

 

As I walked into the room, a breeze blew goose bumps all along my arms, making me shiver. The lights were off; he sat alone in the darkness of the living room. I can’t say that I wasn’t afraid for my life. But for his life, that could be a different story. Why I gave him a key to the apartment, I will never know.

 

The shabby old blue recliner reflected the twenty extra pounds my a*s placed on it by rebelling with a noise that echoed through the house. I reached over and flipped the light on, then waited for what was next. Any moment I was going to be bored out of my wits from the endless lies and tallest tales that any one person could ever imagine from a small brain. 

 

Taylor sat on the couch in a daze as if life had dealt him a blow that he didn’t know how to accept. That was nothing new for him; it had become a signature look for him. I had seen it a time or two during our seven years of marriage. Even have it committed to memory. Although he looked a little stressed, he was still as handsome as the day I had met him. He had a smooth dark complexion with a sharp structured face. His brilliant white teeth stood out against hair dark that hung just below the eyebrows in front and above the shoulders in the back. He was never the type to work out, but then again he didn't need to. There was nothing wrong with his body structure. He was just fine and he knew it. 

 

The awkward tension in the air was interrupted when the phone rang. Crossing the room to answer was when Taylor sprung into action. Placing his hands on my tense shoulders, he stopped me. He had come with a script; just like I knew he would. He knew his lines, moves, cues, he had them perfected. I just had common sense and had been around him long enough that I could read that script.

 

 “We have to talk now,” he said with a look like he had just found his dog of twenty years dead�"the dog he never had. It was a look I could no longer stomach. Suddenly, I could picture looking on the side of milk cartons everywhere, millions of milk cartons. I shuddered at that thought, but then again would anyone notice he was missing.

 “Please, come and sit beside me. There is something I need for you to understand. It is very important for me.” He said. 

Everything was always important for him. There was never a time or thing that was not important. Whatever he touched became important, most of all Taylor was very important to Taylor. Life was nothing but a game and he played it well. And of course, guess who the winner always was? Taylor.

Call Notes finally put an end to the ringing phone. Taylor led me to the couch where I consciously sat between him and the door. With him you could never be too careful, he was not a threat, but the need to run was always a possibility.

“It is very important that you understand what I am going to say. You are well aware…” and the saga had begun. I don’t know what he said, nor do I care. If anyone needed to get a life and move on, it was Taylor. The world he created for himself was nothing short of fantasy. He believed it, and thought everyone else did also. For me, his soap opera ended long ago.

"…I realize that we were discussing reconciliation for the children’s sake but…” I heard him say.

Why didn't I just remind him that reconciliation usually required a second person? I never could reconcile with this man. Who in the right mind would try to board a train that has left the station? Like most people, I had finally admitted to my limitations and he was one of them. Staring at him, it amazed me at how much he was still an active part of my life, even five years after the divorce.

That look, I was sick to death of seeing it. All I ever wanted to do was smack it off his face. Then there was his voice that made my stomach churn. He talked none stop, all the time, so predictable. I knew exactly what he was doing. Throwing his own little pity party, thinking he was leaving in good graces. His mind worked like that of a chess game, always working ahead, using strategic moves. He covered all his bases, left options open, and was never one to burn bridges, especially now that his concerns for his new young bride and her new best friend Janice were at their highest. Janice was also my old ex best friend. I saw a pattern forming. I knew why he sat there in my living room, he fished for information.

Taylor was aware that I had seen Clara and Janice when they thought no one was watching. The affection they showed toward one another was more than just friendly, it fashioned more toward the intimate, and tongue was involved also. Those things he could find out on his own, he might even enjoy it when it happened. I just knew that fire was not going to be fueled by me.

Taking a deep slow breath I prayed silently that he would notice I really just didn’t care anymore, I had moved on. My life changed when he decided to explore new territory that belonged on my ex best friend Janice’s body. Oh well, that was history and they all deserved each other. Although it would be interesting to see which one would walk away with whom at the end of that relationship

The noise in my head would not stop as long as he was breathing. He went on and on as always. Tears flowed from eyes that roved; words fell from a mouth that deceived. Sitting next to him I wondered why I had spent so much money and used so many endless hours in therapy and counseling, when it was apparent who really needed it.

“You know that I love you. I have loved you since the day I laid eyes on you. If I could turn time back…” he continued.

Will you shut up? I wanted to scream. He was never going to shut up. This had to stop and soon, my sanity remained on balance here. Reality seemed to be slipping away further by the minute. Bile crept up in the back of my throat, swallowing hard. I just knew I was going to hurl my dinner any moment. That was when a thought popped into my head, which was a bad place for anything to begin anyway. With that thought also came the sounds of slammed iron doors, turning locks, deadbolts, two-way radios, and sirens, smells, swearing, and shouting. Prison! I snapped back to reality real quick. He was not worth that.

“…regretted it for always…it happened and I can’t change what has happened. I never meant to hurt you…” he was still talking and I was damn near nodding off to sleep.

Yes, he had hurt me. Having to continue to put up with him after the divorce was even more hurt, it was nothing short of abuse, mentally for allowing him to continue to speak and physically because I wanted him dead, right now, right this minute. He was an assault on my senses that always left me exhausted. What happened to lazy afternoons? Will I ever be able to rest without his interrupting? Funny thing though, I was beginning to feel optimistic about the situation.

I tried to speed up his pity party because the smell of stale beer filled the room and added to my nausea.

“I have to go.” he said at last.

I didn’t try to stop him; first to the door, first to the vehicle. Even held the car door open for him to make sure he got in.

“Be careful driving home.” I said, but that was not what was in my mind. My thoughts were that of an 18-wheeler involved with a head on collision, screeching tires, burning rubber, metal twisting, and gas tanks exploding.

Taylor drove away with a big smile on his face pleased with his performance as usual. He loved his game of life playing on the emotions of others. He popped the top on another brew, turned the CD player up loud and started singing to the latest George Strait favorite song before he was twenty feet down the road.

Desperation took over as I watched him drive away. I had let him go long ago, never dwelled on our past but focused on my future. He seemed to be doing the opposite. He was right about one thing, what had happened, had happened. Now it was time to deal with it. Put an end to it. There was no freedom as long as he was free to roam the earth. Even if they locked me in a padded room eventually, he would someday visit and then they would give me shock treatment after he left.

I called work and Steve answered in a low quick voice, “Ambassador Caverns”

“Hey”

“Yea”

“You still know people, right?”

“Yea.”

"Good” I hung up the phone pleased with the vigilante decision I had just made. The end results would be the same, justice was justice, right?

I was able, at last, to take some comfort in my place of employment and its unusual job perks. I certainly didn't go to work to feel the warm fuzzies, I was lucky to escape with my life every day. Besides being pushed, pulled, conned, tested; I also had to adjust to the ever changing daily working environment. No reality show could come close to the reality that I walked into everyday. Then at the end of my shift I slithered out the door wearing the day’s a*s-kicked footprints home as a symbol of my loyalty. I told my dad where I worked, and then thought connection had been lost, there was dead silence. Assuring him it was a legal job with a real paycheck. He was not impressed. What happened to brotherly love, mutual respect, and a simple job description?

Crossing the room to the mirror that hung on the wall, I watched as images formed. He was making me age before my time. It felt like ten years tonight alone. I used to be comfortable with my looks but the mirror says different now, it never lied. The images that formed all looked at me as if they focused on something behind me, as if they could see around me. They looked carefully as though their stares would break me, then they said in unison, “He has to go, that is the only solution.”

"I agree with that, no arguments here." I replied.

They then danced, stomped around, cheered, clapped and whistled. Happiness filled the air. It was party time. Then, just like that, they were gone. Scattered like cockroaches during the bright light at nighttime, ran right through the walls that reflected inside the mirror.

I placed both hands on the mirror and cried, "Please, don't leave me here alone, take me!" It was too late and they were gone. Placing my forehead gently against the mirror, there was only one thing on my mind. A mischievous devious smile crept across my face as I said to the mirror in a calm voice....

"Let the games begin."   

Reviews

[JayG]

You’ve been working hard, and it shows. The improvement in viewpoint presentation is dramatic. And for that, a great big thumbs up.

So, most of my comments are more of an editing thing, to tighten and focus better.

But first, format: If you’re using a version of MS Word, set the margin via the top ruler bar to about a quarter inch, and eliminate the double spacing between paragraphs. This site will accept that form of indentation formatting, but reject tabs and leading spaces.

• As I walked into the room, a breeze blew goose bumps all along my arms, making me shiver. The lights were off; he sat alone in the darkness of the living room.

The purpose of this paragraph is scene-setting. She notices the man and reacts. The “breeze” is irrelevant, because the goosebumps are (or should be) the result of noticing him, or that someone is there, unexpectedly, which means you just put effect—the goosebumps—before their cause, which is impossible in life. And while you’ve placed the character in the living room, they could be coming from the bedroom, the front door, or… So, which is more important, giving the reader the full setting, or mention of an unrelated breeze? And as a minor point, if she came in from the outside, and is dressed for it, why should outside air chill?

Next: The semicolon is unnecessary, because there’s no reason the two lines have to be more closely connected than by a period. And in the end, must you specify that he’s alone? The reader had no reason to expect a crowd, and her reaction and conversation is only with him. Make implication work for you.

And, “he”? The protagonist was married to him, so she doesn’t think of him as “he” as she recognizes him. Neither should the reader, if we’re to be in her viewpoint.

But of more importance, the prose is overly verbose. If you say he’s sitting in the dark, for example, the lights must be off, so when you tell the reader it the lights are off you’re over-specifying. And, you say, “the room,” then, later. Specify which room. If we present which room, isn’t that enough? So, if we tighten it up to only what’s meaningful to her enough to react to:
- - -
As I closed the apartment’s door and reached for the light switch, a tiny sound said someone was in the room. The shiver of fear that came abated, though, replaced by disgust, when I noticed my ex-husband, sitting on the couch. Why I gave him a key to my apartment, I’ll never know.
- - -
It’s 53 words instead of 65. We learn everything the original gave, plus where we are in the apartment, and her reaction to finding him. But of more importance, the motivation/response sequence is:

M: A small noise attracts the protagonist’s attention as she enters the apartment.
R: She reacts to the noise by noticing that someone is in the room.
M: She recognizes him as an ex husband.
R. She 's disgusted with herself for giving him a key.

Originally, it was:

M: A sourceless breeze gives an unknown person goosebumps.
R: She shivers.
M: The Lights are off.
R: None
M: An unknown “he” is in the room.
R: None. In its place the narrator informs the reader that the protagonist isn't afraid, but that for unknown reasons the unknown visitor MIGHT or SHOULD be afraid, for unknown reasons.

See the problem? Cause and effect are missing, so the viewpoint is the narrator who as not present in the room because she and the protagonist live at different times..
- - - - - -
As a minor point, you could give his name here, but I favor her taking a proactive stance and saying, "Taylor, what in the hell are you doing here sitting in the dark?" Wouldn't you, were you her? Wouldn't that interchange lead to them to say the same thing, but more naturally?

I went into this paragraph a lot deeper than I might, because it represents a problem that continues, which is the natural flow of M/R units.

In general though, commenting on one point is like trying to eat just one potato chip. So a few more points:

• The shabby old blue recliner reflected the twenty extra pounds my a*s placed on it by rebelling with a noise that echoed through the house.

Meaningless to the reader who doesn’t know who the protagonist is, how much they used to weigh, or, why an added twenty pounds causes a sound that literally echoes through “the house.” (especially when it’s really an apartment)

But of more importance, does that extra weight matter to the plot in a way the reader is aware of? Does it meaningfully set the scene? Move the plot? If the answer isn’t yes to at least one, the line serves no purpose but to slow the narrative. And that's the kiss of death.

• Taylor sat on the couch in a daze as if life had dealt him a blow that he didn’t know how to accept.

He doesn’t act dazed, so this doesn't track. And, if he usually is that way, as the narrative says, would he not be locked up? Keep a rule for yourself: If your protagonist notices something, it has to be meaningful enough—to her—to react to at that moment, or it's not worth including. You could, though, say something like, “He wore his usual dazed look—an expression I despised,” because that's a M/R in itself. Never stop the action to explain unless full knowledge matters to the plot. Gossip slows the narrative and dilutes impact.

BTW: you can’t include an em-dash in a posted story, because the site doesn’t recognize it, so use two dashes where the em-dash would go.

• Although he looked a little stressed,

But...you called his look dazed.

• The awkward tension in the air was interrupted when the phone rang. Crossing the room to answer was when Taylor sprung into action. Placing his hands on my tense shoulders, he stopped me.

A regression into telling. Get into the protagonist’s viewpoint, not that of the storyteller. The phone rings so she responds to that. He responds by stopping her, in real-time, not the words of someone not there.

• “We have to talk now,” he said with a look like he had just found his dog of twenty years dead�"the dog he never had.

You forgot to add that the dog had one red foreleg and that it liked to play, and that… 😆

“… like he’s found his dog dead,” is all you need. Better would be something like, ““We have to talk now!” he said, obviously upset.

• There is something I need for you to understand.

Would he say, “There is?” Or, There’s?” Characters will use contractions as they speak where you would, unless it's an affectation.

And, suppose you use: “There’s something you need to understand.” If 3 words are removed out of 9, that means a 33% faster read, and thus, more impact. And while the character might say, “There is something I need for you to understand,” as a local or class idiom, the shorter you can make the line without losing meaning or “voice,” the better.

• Call Notes finally put an end to the ringing phone. Taylor led me to the couch where I consciously sat between him and the door.

Does the reader care how the call ended? Is it in any way significant? Think as your protagonist in her moment of "mow," not a reporter. Something like, “Ignoring the phone, he led me…” works, and the reader assumes that it eventually stopped ringing.

And as a minor point, there are precisely two people in that room. One is Tayler, and the other the protagonist. Since we know that, why use his name so often? “He,” works fine. You might also have people call the protagonist by name, so we learn it. without that, the protagonist’s name could be Stanley and it was a gay marriage. Right?

• Taylor drove away with a big smile on his face pleased with his performance as usual.

He can leave the house that way, yes. But once the door closes the protagonist can’t see his face, know his mind, or what music he likes. And since this is a first person narrative, who's noticing? And in ay case, why does the reader care?

• “You still know people, right?”

Meaningful to you, but not to the reader, who lacks backstory.

• I hung up the phone pleased with the vigilante decision I had just made.

She might have made one, but the reader has not a clue…but should. Till it becomes second nature, map out your M/R units. Here, there were none, and there's no context, so the reader is lost.

• Crossing the room to the mirror that hung on the wall, I watched as images formed.

AS images formed? She moves faster than light? Naaa. You’re thinking cinematically, of the shot that would be on the screen. But unless you give that image to the reader… Never forget that ours isn’t a visual medium, and telling the reader what COULD be seen were they there, can't make the reader see it.
- - - - - - - -

So…for hitting you over the head with a 2x4, my deepest apologies. But you know what happens when you clear the bar, as you just did. We raise it. 😂

It never get easier, but after a while you’re confused on a higher level, so the ratio of gold to crap changes for the better. You’ll never reach the point where there’s no one who blows a raspberry, but you can come pretty damn close. And, again, you’re making good progress.

[Linda Stinson Wells]

Sorry it took so long to get to reading your review. As usual I am excited that you take the time to go into great detail of my flaws. It is awesome to know that someone cares enough to spend the time to teach me the errors of my ways and suggest a proper way to present the issue at hand instead of blowing smoke up my a*s telling me it is a wonderful writing. I consider you a great friend and a honest reviewer. Once again this is one of my 2009 writings. I have four more to post. Maybe I should take the time to read them before posting them. It is 1:30 am and I feel the need for another cup of coffee and a biscuit. I am hungry. Take care my friend and may you have a blessed day.