@zeldacroft, @freewritehouse, We-Write #9
A first sentence is all it takes to get the story going. Just start writing and see where it goes," suggested Mrs. Mowry as she handed out the composition notebooks. Some of her students eagerly grasped them, while others reluctantly dropped it on their desk. With a shuffle they each pulled out their pencil cases, although Charlie already had his half-chewed pencil in hand.
The classroom was especially cheerfully decorated, from the colored pin boards hanging on the walls to the beanbags in the reading corner. Even the chairs the children sat on were varying shades of blue. Some of the students were shifting in them, mostly out of anxiety or excitement.
"Mrs. Mowry, do we need to write in pencil?" asked one of the younger girls, Alicia. Her utensils of choice were falling out of their case in a myriad of colors.
"So long as I can read it you can use whatever you want." The teacher smiled as the girl excitedly picked up a bright blue pen, and then a green one. "But I do recommend one color at a time".
My continuation starts here...
At the border of the town, Charles stopped the car and sat silently for a few minutes, looking at the sign: "Georgetown, population 11524." A little town in Illinois – where he grew up, went to school... I haven't been here in fifteen years.
Having lowered the glass, he smoked. It seemed he'd never have to come back here again. After school, he went to college and then worked in New York City. He didn't want to go back to this shithole at all, even for the Christmas holidays. His parents came to visit him a couple of times, and Charles happily showed them the metropolis. However, while in New York his dad always became somber, and his mom felt frightened by the burrowing crowds of people, at the lively intersections she was literally shaking and began to pray.
"They are so backward," Charles thought, taking a deep drag of sweet cherry smoke.
Put out a cigarette, he gathered his thoughts and switched to a different state of mind. Took the jeep off the hand brake and rolled slowly through the space that remembered since his childhood.
It was amazing, but in fifteen years since he left home, nothing has changed. His dad still has the same old Ford with this the ancient transmission. His mom wore the same old coat... They had enough money, just - they liked that life, but Charles didn't.
A sad reason brought him home – Aunt Nancy died, and her funeral was supposed to be tomorrow. His parents were happy to see Charles, but the family dinner was a little sad. Emotional ties between them have long broken – without quarrels or scandal... Just dissolved, as Charles grew older.
It was abundantly clear to everyone that the only reason he would come here again would be his parents' funeral. It was sad, but there was no way to cut through this wall of misunderstanding. His mother acted like Charles was going to school yesterday – saying all the same phrases he remembered... He wondered whether she gets tired of it herself? Could it really be true that all these years every night she has repeated the same old calembours?
Dad got tipsy after a couple of shots of sherry. Charles also drank "for decency" and... For a thousand times he listened to his father’s, best army stories.
"Are they really my parents?" the thought flashed. "Could someone replaced me in a hospital?"
The morning after breakfast, he went out for a stroll. For a long time, he wandered the streets – it turned out that he already forgot his ways around the town, and it was necessary to open the map on one of the intersections. He felt nothing, looking at the town where he spent his childhood. No love, no hatred. It simply was boring. Here was his elementary school. For a while Charles stood, leaning against the tree, looking at the children from afar. ‘Hmmm, if I’d stand like this for a long time, someone can imagine I am a sexual predator and call the police...’
Thus, Charles tramped further. The woman in the parking lot near the school seemed familiar to him. Her straight black hair, her profile...
“Alicia? Alicia Smith?”
She turned around and corrected him.
“I'm Alicia Breckenridge, for ten years already. Do I know you?”
"It’s me, Charlie Warren,” he took off his baseball cap so Alicia could see his face better.
“Charlie?!” exclaimed Alicia. “Long time no see! Surprise, surprise!”
To his astonishment, Alicia even hugged him. It was cool but unexpected.
“You know what, I just recently thought of you! … and it’s so odd you're here! I heard you never leave New York.
“Why not? I travel,” Charles smiled. “Once in a while. I travel to Paris, Tokyo, Madrid, Sao Paulo...”
“…and finally, Georgetown, Illinois.”
"Yeah..." the smile slid off his face. "Aunt Nancy.”
“Ah!” Alicia only now understanding the reason for his return to his hometown.
In the morning after the funeral, he quickly had breakfast with his parents – and again left for a walk, hoping to meet Alicia near the school. Not to say that Charles really wanted to see her, but if you were to meet someone in Georgetown, then it had better be her. The funeral was terrible – sadness, despair, hopelessness. An atmosphere of the quiet nightmare that dragged into itself all these aging locals. Yesterday – Tom, today – Nancy, tomorrow – Jack. They live from funeral to funeral. Simply because their whole "life" remained there, in the past. Memories, old pictures "oh, Charlie, remember this day – you had your first tooth! ..."
If anything, Alicia was alive.
There was no need to rush back to New York. All he needed for work was a laptop. Lisa left him a year ago and it was a good thing that they didn't formalize the relationship. So, no one was waiting for Charles in the metropolis. Someone was waiting for him here though; in the “dying village”.
Of course he met Alicia outside the school – she had brought her children, two pretty girls, to school.
"How did it go?" she asked, looking at Charles' sour expression.
"Terrible," he nodded briefly. "Sad and gloomy. As it should be at the funeral.”
"I knew you were coming," Alicia said. "I have a surprise for you. Sit down, let's go to our place.”
"Do you remember it?" Charles was surprised.
"Better than you think," Alicia smiled cunningly.
As they drove to the forester's abandoned hut, he thought she hinted at something – but wasn’t certain.
"Then you are happily married," Charles smiled. "Cool, I guess. Well, I'm still alone somehow. For five years, I lived with a girl by the name of Lisa. She was a model from Russia. She lived with me while she had little money. But once her career started to going up, she wanted more, and now she left me for some designer.”
"Sorry about that," Alicia said. "Was it hard for you when she left?”
"Not really," Charles shrugged. "People come and go, and the big city stays. I still write articles for magazines. I like it, and it pays well. I drive around the world and do interviews and reporting.”
“You liked writing since you were a child,” Alicia smiled. “as for me I didn’t succeed in it.”
"Yes, yes... I remember how Mrs. Mowry taught us, "The first sentence is all you need," Charles nodded. "It’s always like this for me. The main thing is to catch up with the initial thought, and then the story will unfold on its own. In the form of a story or a reportage.”
"I have my own beauty salon," Alicia boasted.
“In Georgetown?” Charles was surprised. “Are there clients here too?”
"Don't exaggerate, it’s not so bad here," she laughed. “You always wanted to live big, ‘Give me the entire world’. And I… I have my own little cozy room and I am happy with it.”
She turned into the woods, onto a creep road leading to an abandoned hut where they loved playing in their childhood.
In fact, little has changed in the hut, as well. While Charles was recalling them playing, Alicia was laughing.
"You didn't forget the night before you left for college?" she asked, finally. "I don't believe you could forget. Because I still remember.”
“No... Of course, not…,” Charles nodded feeling confused, “…it was magnificent.”
"I wanted to memorize you if by chance you wouldn’t come back," Alicia said. "But secretly I was hoping you'd come back. I hoped every day... Until the day of my wedding.”
“Whoops...” Charles lowered his eyes. “I didn’t think it wasn’t important for you. I thought we said our goodbyes quite well back then. While going to New York, I thought it’s pretty awesome it that I didn't come to college as a virgin.”
"I was hoping you'd at least call," Alicia said quietly.
After pondering awhile, Charles was only able to utter:
"I 'm sorry, baby!"
“Will you do something for me?” Alicia asked with hope.
"Of course. Anything!”
"Come here!" she hugged Charles firmly and kissed him passionately on the lips.
"That time you took the blankets with you..." he mumbled as they finally pulled apart to take a breather.
"Now I also took them," Alicia's eyes glittered. "Blankets are in the car.”
Entering New York City limits, Charles thought that Alicia has switched his life again, making him not only a man but possibly – a father. When they parted, she said:
"I'm sure I'll have a boy. I'll call him Charlie.”
"Uh, but I'm not...”
"Don't worry. My husband always wanted a son, but it somehow didn't work out. And I really wanted to raise a little boy who’d be just like you. Go fly the world like you used to... Live your life your own way. I will live mine my way.”
"If she’ll give birth to a son... I think I should at least meet him when he grows up, "Charles thought, driving in the parking lot near his place in New York. " What would I tell him? And when? When he'll be sixteen, eighteen, twenty-one? I don't know... Maybe if I'll write about it and it will help me to sort things out. After all, everything starts with the first sentence."
Cacti in pots and a dried up piece of pizza in the fridge waited for him in his apartment. ‘Get the phone app and order pizza. Why can't you just order a new life just like this?’