Quirks

A new perspective

 

     Quirks

 

            The air outside is beginning to become cold and static. A storm is headed toward the shores near our house. We live right on the ocean, on a cliff that hangs over a sad excuse for a beach. The beach is covered in rocks, barely a slip of sand to rest your feet on. Of course, I still love it. There are rarely people coming to it because it’s so different from what’s considered comfortable. This way, I can swim in peace. My love has always been for the ocean and never for anything else. I live with my dog in this house that was left to me by my late father. My mother was the first to receive it in the will but she jumped off this very cliff after he’d passed.

 

            Many believe me to be weird for staying here despite the fact it’s the site of so much death: my dead father’s most precious place, and the place my mother chose to take her own life. If only they could realize that these are the reasons I feel the need to stay here. I want to be able to hear them in my mind and heart while I swim in the waters.

 

            I’m tempted to go swimming today but I know that it would be foolish. No person that’s right in the head would risk swimming at sea during a thunderstorm. No person who wants to live, at least. And I do want to live, although it may seem otherwise with my closeness to death. I love life; people are fun to analyze as I sit and have my morning coffee. I enjoy watching their fights and hugs and tearful reunions. My dog enjoys it as well. Of course, since no dogs are normally allowed, I have to act blind to get in with her. I have dark sunglasses and everything.

 

            I’m sure my dog Sadie would laugh if she was able to. People are so willing to believe things that are thrust before them that they’ll swallow any lie without question. Sadie enjoys the trips more for the biscuit I buy her than the people watching, but I still enjoy her company. Being able to watch people without their suspicion is nice. It’s much easier to live as a fake blind person; I can observe anything that I want to.

 

            I know that if people knew, they would disapprove and call it a repulsive and rude act, but that’s why I don’t tell them. Thinking of this subject makes me realize that I have yet to do my daily people watching. My eyes drag over to Sadie, the golden retriever sitting patiently by the door, tail wagging slightly in anxiety. “Okay, girl,” I speak to her, “we can go out now.” A happy bark is my reply and I smile; my best friend in the world is a dog. Should I be worried about myself? No, of course not.

 

            I walk toward the door, grabbing her harness and my sunglasses on the way. Setting the glasses upon the bridge of my nose, I kneel beside Sadie and hook the contraption around her belly. For some reason she’d always loved the harness more than her leash, though I imagine it’s because the harness does a better job of scratching her belly and back as she walks.

 

            I can’t help but giggle at Sadie’s happy yelp as I open the door to the front yard. I hold onto the leash of the harness and stumble out after her, pulling the door shut behind me before she drags me clear out of the town. She’s always been a strong dog; even when she was just a small puppy she was able to tug chairs around with her teeth. That was two years ago, when I’d first bought her at the rescue house to console myself. It had been only a week after my mother’s suicide and I needed something to help my mood.

            Sadie was the one to bring my spirits up. She gave me things to do and helped me when I went to my parents’ graves. She even helped me pick out the flowers (it seemed customary for her to pick by sneezing on the bouquet she liked). She often chose blue flowers, a color I agree with. Blue has always been one of my favorite colors and I often dressed in it. This dog seems to be an extension of myself. Though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, studies do mention that pets develop a manner that copies their owners. Still, although this may seem cliched, Sadie is more like a family member than just a pet.

 

            I feel my mind getting tugged out of memories as Sadie tugs me down the road. “Sadie, calm down,” I reprimand her softly. She knows our routine by now but she still seems excited to be getting her snack. I love the way she still acts like a puppy despite the fact she’ll be an adult soon. I feel like I’m obligated to get her doggie booze on her next birthday since she’s “twenty-one in dog years” come that time. Of course I can just imagine walking into the liquor store and making that request. That face would be a fun one to stare at.

 

            I think I’ll settle with the normal routine of a new toy and the expensive canned food she seems to like. And I’ll even get her some new shoes that she can gnaw away on. That’ll serve the second purpose of saving my new boots from Shoe Hell. I can faintly hear the noises up ahead and realize that it’s the second Saturday of the month. Every second Saturday, the town center holds a farmer’s market for cheap vegetables and products. It’s really nothing compared to the strawberry week that they hold in June, but it’s still nice to see people acting so happy. Sadie ‘helps’ me to wind around the people in the market, heading straight for the coffee shop we always go to.

 

            My mouth twitches slightly as we pass a small girl, squealing to her mother about the cute puppy. She doesn’t seem to notice that her ice cream is about to fall from the oddly angled sugar cone. That poor mother, soon she’ll be dealing with a crying child that will refuse being consoled until she gets more sugary treats. Children have never been my thing. I admit they’re cute when they aren’t crying or whining, though. Still, I’ve never been very good with kids. That’s why I do my best to avoid them. That’s another wonderful use of my house. There’s a rumor or two floating around the town that it’s haunted. I don’t get bothered because of it. Of course, on Halloween it’s a different story. I get trick-or-treaters that seem interested in it, but I don’t get pranked because they’re afraid there may be truth to the tales.

 

Halloween just recently passed however, a month ago it was over. Soon it will be December and we will be expecting cold weather. The odd thing about our town is that the storms all depend on the sea. We never know if snow will stay on the ground or melt away. Usually, it depends on the direction of the storm. If it is coming from inland, then the snow will melt overnight from the salt in the air. However, if it comes from the sea and it is propelled by it, the snow could stay for weeks on end. Not that I mind, of course.

 

            I love the snow; it’s always been a beautiful miracle to me. Who couldn’t love something that looks and feels so pure, so cold. I even continue to go swimming in the ocean during this season. Of course, that could be because there is a hot spot along the ridges of the cliff’s bottom. Old underwater volcanos still give off heat down there even though they aren’t truly active. It’s very nice to have my own private beach all year around. Sadie, however, hates the water. I like to tease her about being like a cat.

            My daydreams have caught me off guard again, and I’m only brought back when I hear Sadie’s whining. I blink and realize that I’m standing at the counter, the man behind it staring at me like I’m insane. He’s new, I can see easily, but I don’t remember if he spoke yet or not. I can’t speak of it unless he has or my blind cover will be blown. “Excuse me . . . ” I speak softly.

 

            “I asked what you wanted today.” He announces, his tone slightly annoyed. It looks like he’s a college student, he probably just started attending the state college near by. I’m not in college anymore. I’m living off my father’s trust fund. Sometimes it’s good to be a rich recluse. Finally, I speak out loud that he’s new, and ask if he recently moved here. He confirms my theory of his attendance to the college before repeating his question of my order.

 

            I quickly order my usual purchase and offer a smile to him as I hand over the money. He’s a cute kid, I’ll admit. He looks as if he is of Greek descent, with black, soft curls in his hair and green eyes. His skin is tanned, at least I think. It’s hard to tell through such dark sunglasses. One thing that the glasses will not mask is his bone structure. He has a very nice one, truthfully. High cheekbones and a straight nose. His right ear is pierced; I have the urge to ask the silly question if the right or left piercing is supposed to symbolize sexual preference of the same gender. Of course, I know that’s a very outdated thing to ask, but it doesn’t stop my temptation from poking at the back of my mind.

 

            My fingers drum slightly upon the counter as I wait for my change and my order. He’s staring at my nails, obviously bored with work. Perhaps he’s had a long shift today.  I always hear people complaining about work. It’s the only reason I haven’t done any. Instead I stay at home and write books and short stories. One of these days I’ll send them to a publisher and make some money, though there isn’t much of a point. I’ll have no heir to worry about passing money to and I have no need to make any more of it now. My will is mostly going to be giving all of my worldly possessions to charities and the less fortunate. I’d rather let them have it than let it go to some old miser of a lawyer.

 

            Finally, the man behind the counter hands me the bag and cup and I smile softly again. “My name is Aiden,” I speak clearly, “And yes, I know it’s a boy’s name but my parents were expecting a boy . . .  and apparently they were too lazy to change it.” A grin overcomes my expression as I wait his reaction. He lets a smirk come to his lips and nods before seeming to realize I can’t see what he’s doing (or so he thinks).

 

            “My name is Alexander, Alex for short.” He introduced himself. I took the time to notice that he was speaking slowly. I wonder if he realizes that those who are blind have a heightened sense of hearing and don’t need to have every syllable sounded out for them to understand. Rather than correcting him, I nod almost mockingly and walk to my normal seat at the table by the window. Sadie sits at my feet as I pull her croissant out of the bag and break it in half, holding the smaller half down to her. She only eats a small bit at a time so there’s no real point in giving it all to her at once.

 

            I settle back into my seat and look around the coffee shop slowly. It’s a quiet day today, most likely because the market outside. Everyone is trying to get the fresh vegetables now before the season is completely over. Farmers’ market will end this week and won’t return until April during the Strawberry Week. Still, I note some familiar faces. Old man Burkins is here this afternoon, sitting in a seat that’s close to the register as always. He’s old and skinny, but for some reason he’s always hungry. Because of his abnormal and incessant hunger, he sits close to the counter so he can easily get up to order something different. His wife usually comes in some time later with a smoothie and reprimands him about his health. I always smile at that point because even though he complains, you can tell how in love they are. They’d been married for sixty-three years now, both of them nearing ninety.

 

            My fingers curl around the cardboard cup that holds my hot chocolate. Coffee was never really my thing; it’s too bitter for me to handle most of the time. I much prefer the smooth and sweet taste of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream. I also enjoy the festive little marshmallows. I sip at the hot liquid and stare out the window to the people running around, then come to notice the mother I’d seen earlier, holding her crying child on her hip and trying to get her to stop. I attempt to send her a mental image of candy, but alas, my telepathic powers have yet to develop.

 

            Really now, what’s the point of life without telepathic powers? I feel Sadie pulling at the leg of my pants and look down. She’s whining and wagging her tail anxiously. I can’t help but give in; she’s just too adorable like that. I reach to the other piece and drop it down to her, watching her go at chewing it. I begin to think over what else I have to do today. Nothing comes to mind and I suddenly feel rather bored. I wonder if living life like this is really all it’s cracked up to be. I’m running out of things to do for fun. Still, people watching will never grow old for me. My eyes move to Alexander who sits behind the counter, reading a physics book as he awaits the end of the lull.

 

            I feel as though I need for something new in my life to happen. Maybe it is time for me to give in and find a road untraveled. I could go to school, get a job, jump out of a plane . . .  Then again, turning into a human pancake has never sounded appealing to me. My eyes close beneath the shade of the sunglasses and I relax for a moment. My body slumps in the chair as I think it over. The problem with my getting a job is that people seem to think I’m blind (I can’t imagine why), and not many hire blind people. Of course, I never actually told them I’m blind so it’s not my fault if they assumed incorrectly.

 

            I take notice as Alexander glances up from the book at the alert of the bell, the signal that its time to get off your a*s and serve customers. I never enjoyed the idea of a bell; they do nothing but annoy me and make me want to defy them. I take another sip of the hot chocolate and continue to watch the man behind the counter. He moves with an odd but welcoming grace, smiling to the other customers as they giggle and point. This set is a small group of high school girls. I can see why they giggle though. If I was their age, I’d be doing the same. They don’t order anything by the end of their stay though and instead run out, laughing with embarrassment.

 

            Alexander looks confused; men tend to have that reaction when they’re attractive and don’t realize it. What a pity it is that his looks are being wasted. Then again, I didn’t know whether or not he was single or in a committed relationship. I felt the urge to find out but squashed it down. How awkward would that be for him, having a supposedly blind woman hit on him? Then again, my mischievous side was insisting that I do it, then magically be “healed” when he comes to pick me up. I wonder if he’d hate me for that though. Then again, he is a college boy, he could find it hilarious. I’m too busy weighing my options to notice that he’s walking toward me. When I come to, I notice he’s standing right before me. When he speaks, I give a slight start and turn to face him, keeping strict to my blind act as always. Hm, maybe an acting career would work well for me.

 

            “Do you sit here all day?” The question is rather rude, but I can tell he’s just curious. You can’t blame the boy for wondering what everyone else must. I nod an affirmative response for him and wait for him to ask the next question I feel is coming. “Don’t you get bored with nothing to do?” I nearly scoff at this one. Of course I’m doing something: I’m watching you all in your petty little lives. Your love, your joy, your sorrow, I can see it all.

 

            “I enjoy the atmosphere,” is the answer I decide to voice after a moment. “The smell and feel of this place are relaxing. Wouldn’t you agree?”

 

            “Lady, I work here.” He reminds me before walking back to stand behind the counter. I feel like he’s getting antsy; he keeps looking at the clock, waiting for his shift to end. I finally stand and take my chance, walking toward him with Sadie at my heels. Taking a large gulp of the chocolate milk, I peer through the glasses to his expression. My hand tosses the cup into the garbage as I address him. Alexander looks to me with an impatient gaze but doesn’t speak. I can still hear his labored breath if I close my eyes and wonder if he knows I can tell he’s annoyed.

 

            I feel the urge to giggle like those school girls had. He doesn’t realize after all. “May I help you?” He is trying to stay calm, hoping for the clock to jump ahead. His hands are in his pockets, most likely clenched from trying to keep his cool. Coffee shops do seem to have the tendency of bad scheduling for their employees.

 

            My hands move to rest on the counter as I lean forward, looking at him from behind the mask of my sunglasses. “I hope that you can help me.” I say in a light tone. “I was hoping you’d consider going out with me.” For once, I felt awkward. I’d never asked a boy out before, not even in my teenaged years. Yes, I’d been asked out several times, and I’d even gone on a couple of dates, but I never actually took initiative.

 

            “Go out with you.” Repeating the question in statement form was never a good sign in my experiences. I suddenly feel the urge to twist this all to my advantage; I was never a good loser.

 

            “I hope you aren’t discouraged by my condition,” I say softly. Of course, I don’t relay to him that my condition is a heart murmur, a minor condition of the heart that can be quite harmless (as mine was). Or, with the way things are going, it could be the condition of chronic lying. He looks almost ashamed for a moment before smiling. His smile is gorgeous. I find myself entrapped in it for a moment before I hear his voice.

 

            “Sure. I can meet with you on Saturday if you’d like to. Would you like to meet here?” How sweet, he’s trying to make it easier for me to get here. I nod and smile, tilting my head to the side in what I’ve heard is a “cute” manner. It’s become an annoying habit of mine since the first time I mocked it. “Great, I’ll be here at two in the afternoon. I have the day off.”

 

            I smile and excuse myself after he says this, giving the excuse that I need to bring my dog home and let her play outside. I turn then, saying goodbye as the bell signaled my exit. As soon as I leave the busy streets of the town center, I let myself relax more and smile happily. I look down to Sadie and pat her on the head. I believe it’s been a long time since I’ve gone out with someone of the opposite sex; I don’t think I’ve done so since before my parents died.

 

            This would have to be special, then. I wonder for a moment whether I should reveal myself to him when he arrives or not. The blind bit is getting a little old in all honesty. I need a new hobby, and hopefully this can lead me to one. Coming to a conclusion for myself, I lift the sunglasses from my face and perch them to rest on my hairline. My eyes blink, adjusting to the lighter scenery before settling back from a dilated state.

 

            My house is approaching, hanging over the crashing waves of the ocean. I can faintly make out large crabs scuttling along the rocks of the beach as I pass it. It’s getting darker, the clouds gathering overhead in warning of the storm that the wind is bringing through. I hope that it will bring snow. I’ve been waiting quite impatiently for the white blanket to cover the grounds.

 

            I look to Sadie as I lock the gate behind us. We have a white picket gate surrounding the property so she can run freely. I kneel beside her as always and unhooked her, watching as she pranced off to do her own thing. I smile softly before entering the house and heading to the kitchen table. I’d left my latest draft of a story I’ve been working on there. The story is about a boy who’s forced to choose his life or his sister’s, finally making the bargain with death to let them switch places. The story continues on however to show that he was tricked, and his sister is forced to live in his body for the rest of her life. I’ll admit, the concept is a little odd for even me, but I like how it has been going.

 

            I pick up the red pen laying beside the stack of paper and pick back up on page forty, the point where I’d last left off. Corrections aren’t my favorite thing to do in a story, but they’re necessary. Besides, I trust myself more than some random editor. I’ve tried to hire an editor before but they end up trying to cut out a good chunk of it, and its usually my favorite part. So, finally getting too annoyed to deal with him, I had to let him go.

 

            My eyes close as I tap the pen lightly against the paper. I know that I should be trying to edit but my mind is wandering of its own free will. I can’t help but think about what will happen on Saturday. Will he be annoyed and cancel the date right away? Will there be laughter shining in his eyes as he assesses me and makes some random joke to do with my acting skills?

 

            I truly hope that if one must occur, it could be the latter of the two. Finally pulling myself back into the waking world, I look down to the pages before me and start writing the corrections. The red ink flows smoothly out of the ballpoint and easily marks the paper. So many corrections on the page already . . .  It seems easier to critique a work over time; time is necessary to make anything perfect.

Author's Note

This is a re-upload

Reviews

[Evie Lovechild]

The air outside is beginning to become cold and static. (here, 'beginning' seems unnecessary)
The beach is covered in rocks (because you just said 'beach' maybe replace that with something else like 'the expanse at the foot of the crag')
I needed something to help my mood. ('help' is a rather everyday kind of word here. perhaps try switching it with something like 'brighten' or 'lift' or 'air out')
Blue has always been one of my favorite colors and I often dressed in it. (explain this sentence. is there a certain reason she has a kick for blue? a parallel color of the sea?)
as Sadie tugs me down the road. (try subbing 'tug' with something else since you just said it)
I admit they�re cute when they aren�t crying or whining, though. Still, I�ve never been very good with kids. (you could condense that all to 'I admit they're cute when they aren't crying or whining, but still, I've never been very good with them.')
I love the snow; it�s always been a beautiful miracle to me. (that would flow better if you rearranged it a bit, like 'and have always seen it as a beautiful miracle.')
sitting in a seat that�s close to the register as always. (something like 'sitting in his usual seat close to the register' might flow better)
Really now, what�s the point of life without telepathic powers? (that sentence fits better in the paragraph before it)
perch them to rest on my hairline. (you could shorten this to 'perch them on my hairline.')
I kneel beside her as always and unhooked her, watching as she pranced off to do her own thing. (find a consistent tense here. if you switch 'unhooked' to 'unhook', for example.)
and pick back up on page forty, the point where I�d last left off. (switch one of the 'pick' s in this sentence to something else to end repetition. also, you could cut 'the point')

feel like I�m obligated to get her doggie booze on her next birthday (haha delightful imagery)
these are the reasons I feel the need to stay here. (love this line. the need for presence after death is very important.)
Then again, turning into a human pancake has never sounded appealing to me. (very nice)
It seems easier to critique a work over time; time is necessary to make anything perfect. (a perfect ending line to this piece. well done.)

All in all, this was a fantastic story - very much enjoyed. I really like the "stream of thought" kind of writing you portray. Lovely.

-Evie Lovechild

[Aaron M. Anderson]

Wow, I love the whole feel of this story! You kept me entranced the whole way through! Excellent grammar and very descriptive wording, but what really had me mezmerized was the intensity of your characters! I thoroughly enjoyed the dog's antics (sneezing on the flowers, hates water). Your main character engendered plenty of sympathy from me, but at the same time, I was thoroughly impressed with her attitudes and her personality. I can definitely tell that a story is good when I really want to read more about the characters! Excellent work!