~ Written by Danielle N. Bilski ~

CWR111 Writing the short story
Assessment 4 – Folio 2

Seven reasons you shouldn’t date

Written by Danielle Bilski
Length: 1,165 words

1. Your mother wants you to date, more than you do

You remember carefully ironing the creases out of your new paisley shirt when the home phone started ringing. You wondered if it was your date calling to cancel, which wouldn’t have surprised you, to be honest. It was a blind date after all. Not that the date was hard of sight, but you’re mother had insisted you meet one of her coworkers for a quick bite, as she’d described it.

You’re not getting any younger, she’d reminded you unnecessarily. You haven’t talked about anyone special for a while, so I thought you might need some help meeting someone, she’d continued.

You told her you were quite capable of finding dates when you wanted to, especially ones who weren’t blind, but if she’d heard you, her expression gave nothing away. You know how stubborn she can be, because you’d learned it from the master herself.

I don’t want to be too old to play with my grandchildren, she admitted. Ah, ha! So that’s what it was all about, you realised.

Nevertheless, you were both well aware your long-standing, Friday night engagement with a large Hawaiian pizza, ice cold six-pack of Coronas, your couch and the Foxtel remote was only a slight variation from your Saturday ‘take-away Thai food’ night and ‘lamb souvlaki’ Sundays. Admittedly, Thursday night dinner with your parents was the only night of the week you didn’t eat dinner on your couch…alone. So, you’d eventually given in to your mother’s matchmaking; just this once and only if you got to pick the restaurant.

2. Your clothes become a fire hazard

Turned out, it wasn’t your date ringing to cancel. It wasn’t even your mother calling to remind you not to be late, which had been your next guess. You remember the pause before the caller spoke. Telemarketer! They offered you solar panels, with a Government rebate, for a limited time only. You informed the caller you lived in a third floor apartment where solar panels were kind of redundant.

In that case, you would not be eligible for the rebate, she politely tells you.

You’d glanced over at the iron when you started to smell something burning and asked the caller whether you were eligible for a new shirt? When she didn’t answer you hung up. You’d cursed as you stood the iron back in its holder, balled up the shirt and threw it on top of the washing pile. You didn’t have time to press another one, settling with the plain white v-neck t’shirt you were already wearing and your black overcoat. Besides, collared shirts always make your neck itch and it was just for a quick bite. You jerked your mobile off its charger and whisk your wallet from the bench to your pocket, clicking the deadlock and pulling the door closed.

3. Walking is faster than taking public transport

Remember the lift shouted at you in red, OUT OF ORDER and you were forced to take the stairs. Then you had to wait for the three-A tram at the corner of Nelson and Carlisle Street for exactly twenty seven minutes.

I could have walked to the restaurant and back in that time, you’d thought. You overheard other passengers asking what had caused the delay. The consensus seemed to be an accident up the line involving a car and a pedestrian.

4. Kindness gives you gum drops

On the tram, you’d been sitting down for two stops when an elderly, white haired lady got on with a wheeled-walker. You offered her your seat and she smiled at you with a smear of pink lipstick on her teeth. When the tram took off, you reached for a railing to steady yourself, feeling a sticky ball squish between your fingers. Chewing gum should be banned on public transport, you thought as the white hair woman smiled at you with pink lipstick on her teeth. You’d turned to stare out the window, tightening your jaw and silently cursing your mother for making you go out when you knew it was a bad idea. The next time the tram stopped, you reached in your pocket for a clean tissue and peeled the gum off your skin, stretching like melted cheese on pizza.

5. You’re late, but your date is later

When you finally arrived at the restaurant, the maitre ‘D informed you the table that had been reserved for six thirty was now occupied by another couple. You glanced at the clock on the wall behind the desk; five past seven. Remember asking the maitre ‘D whether the other party had come earlier and the way they attempted to look apologetic when they told you you’d been stood up.  As you exited the restaurant, you checked your phone which remained sarcastically silent.

6. You go home alone

The first thing you did was walk to a nearby pizza shop Mr. Natural Vegetarian Pizza and ordered a large take-away Potato gourmet with extra cheese. While it was cooking, you went to the cellar around the corner in Acland Street and bought a six-pack of Coronas. You wanted to at least try to make the most of what was left of your Friday night. Remember thinking, why did I let Mum talk me into that in the first place? You caught the next tram home, grateful for being able to sit down the whole ride. You walked up the stairs to your empty third floor apartment.

As expected, that Friday night ended the same way every other one had.

7. Your date had a worse night than you did

The next morning your mother rang.

She called me as soon as she‘d been discharged from emergency, she explained. Apparently she’d held up the whole three-A tram line on Carlisle Street. She said she would have called you last night, but she’d when the car hit her, she let go of her phone and the screen shattered on impact, like her knee did. She’s very sorry for standing you up and she insists she’d still love to meet you.

You told your mother to send your condolences and hopes she gets well soon. Then you politely declined the invitation. You told your mother about the burned shirt you never got to wear; the telemarketer giving you something then taking it away; the broken down lift; waiting for a tram when walking would have been faster; holding someone’s strategically discarded chewing gum; and the humiliation when a restaurant staff member feels sorry for you as you realise you went through all of that for nothing. Surely, if you had a bad night, if your date had a worse one and you didn’t even get to have a quick bite, maybe you should quit while you’re ahead.

It sounds to me like you got out of it relatively unscathed, your mother pointed out.

See you Thursday Mum, you replied and hung up the phone.

My time with you

©2013 Danielle N. Bilski

~ Written by Danielle N. Bilski ~

CWR111 Writing the short story
Assessment 2 – Folio 1

Clear skies

Written by Danielle Bilski
Length: 1,460 words

She wasn’t sure it would help, but it was a beginning. She wouldn’t have gone if she hadn’t promised her mother she’d make the appointment. Her mother had been going to sessions once a week since April’s father died when she was eleven. In the last three weeks she had increased her weekly visits to three.

April walked past the card on the fridge, half hidden by the bluebird magnet, at least fifty times that day. She lost count of how many times she’d opened and closed the fridge looking for nothing in particular, always returning to the couch slightly more unsatisfied and unsettled. She caught it out of the corner of her eye as her moccasins padded across the grey tiles to refill her glass with filtered water. Then again as she’d scuff, scuff, scuffed out.

The receptionist answered after just two rings, sounding like she’d been expecting the call. ‘Due to a last minute cancellation’, she’d said.

Three days later, April found herself sitting in a small, cream room on a matching cream couch which reminded her of the one in Aaron’s second-floor apartment.

* * * * *

‘Do you think you could share with me why you’re here today?’ Dr. Peel asked.

The question pinched in April’s chest like a reminder. An expectation. She remembered the bluebird magnet on Aaron’s fridge. The one she’d brought back from grade five camp. The one that Aaron said reminded him of that song from an old 1940s animated Disney movie they’d watched on video together a thousand times. Their mother had taped it for them one day when they were at school, so they had to fast-forward through the ads.

‘I’m haunted by a bluebird.’

* * * * *

Together they chorused, skipping around the 1980s-style lounge room of their childhood home. She lifted the bluebird high above her head, pretending to make it fly as high as her arms could reach.

After reciting the entire song, they collapsed, puffed and giggling, on the couch. The magnet rested silently on the cushion between them as their chests raised and fell with every new breath.

‘Do you think you could share it with me?’ he asked.

‘Ok. I’ll have it in my room today and you can have it in your room tomorrow.’

When he moved into his own place, she’d let him take it with him.

* * * * *

‘April? Can you tell me what is so significant about the bluebird?’ Dr. Peel asked.

April took a deep breath. She felt Dr. Peel’s eyes on her and it made her uncomfortable. She tried to imagine they were sitting in Aaron’s lounge room, the bluebird safely on the fridge, the white roses in the vase on the coffee table as just a nice decorative touch. Aaron would be sitting on the couch beside her.

‘It reminds me of my brother, Aaron,’ she stalled. The truth was, she was nervous and afraid to speak of him, in case it made the memories fade faster.

‘April, everything we talk about here is strictly between you and I, ok. I want you to think of this as a safe place and to just take your time.’

That’s not what she was worried about.

‘Where is Aaron now?’

‘He’s gone.’ It didn’t sound like her voice. It sounded distant, mechanical.

April watched Dr. Peel scribble on the notepad she cradled in front of her, the lid of the blue pen nodded at her approvingly.

‘Aaron died three weeks ago.’

‘I’m very sorry.’

* * * * *

Before she left Aaron’s apartment, she made sure to fold the blanket and place her pillow neatly on top of it in the hall cupboard. She straightened the cream cushions and placed the remote back on the coffee table next to vase of white roses. Her moccasins sat neatly beside her suitcase near the window.

No one would know just by looking at the lounge room that someone had laid awake there most of the night. Most of the night, every night for the past three weeks and two days.

Aaron took a lot of pride in his apartment and she’d never liked to disappoint him.

* * * * *

‘How old was Aaron?’

‘Only twenty eight.’

‘What was Aaron like?’ the psychologist prompted.

How could she possibly explain how wonderful he was to someone who never knew him.

‘He was my best friend,’ was all she could manage.

‘You obviously had a lot of admiration for him.’

Of course she did. She was sure she always would.

After a short pause she answered. ‘Yes.’

‘What did you love most about him?’

Her voice caught in her throat, she swallowed hard. ‘Everything.’

April stared at Dr. Peel’s eyes. They seemed to reflect the greyness of the sky blanketing Melbourne through the floor-to-ceiling windows at her right shoulder. Sky News had predicted rain for the rest of the week. The fact it had rained the last twenty three days straight was not lost on April.

‘Did Aaron love bluebirds?’

‘It was more the memories attached to it.’

Dr Peel nodded.

‘I’m, no, I don’t think I’m ready.’ This was the first time since she’d arrived at Peel on Peel Mental Health Centre that she realised the full extent of what she’d actually promised her mother. Talking now frightened her more than being alone. At least in Aaron’s apartment she knew what to expect.

* * * * *

Every day at midday her mother would call Aaron’s home phone to make sure she was alright. April always reassured her, because she didn’t want her to worry, when there were more important things for her to think about.

‘I really think going to see a psychologist would help you’, she’d continually remind April of her promise to get some help. A part of her knew it was her mother’s way of holding onto what was left of her family safe, since losing both her father and Aaron felt like the loss of exactly half of her whole self. She was sure her mother felt the same way, and maybe therapy worked for her. That didn’t stop April wondering how on earth talking to a stranger could ever make losing her brother seem even remotely ok?

* * * * *

‘I know this is difficult. Take as long as you need. Remember, this is only your first session,’ Dr Peel reassured.

‘I’m sorry. I don’t want to.’

The first drops spotted the windows, clouding her eyes like the tears that wet her cheeks. Down came the rain. She didn’t notice the bluebird magnet fall from her handbag landing softly on the cream carpet as she made her way for the door without another word.

* * * * *

Aaron smiled at her and reached for her hand. She felt the softness of his skin and his fingers tighten around hers. The sun behind him shone in her eyes, making his features difficult to make out. His dark hair fell across his eyes. Stubble combed his cheeks and chin making him look handsome. The shape of his eyes were like their mother’s. The dent in chin made him look more like their father than he would have cared to admit. He was wearing a cobalt blue shirt, the collar like bird wings framing his face.

She could see his mouth moving around familiar words, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying. Her head spun as they skipped around their mother’s couch, the bluebird magnet cradled in her hand. They were spinning so fast, her feet barely touched the ground. She felt like she was flying. Remembering, she looked down at her free hand. The bluebird magnet was gone.

When she looked up again, she couldn’t see his face. She was alone. The sun shone and the sky was clear. In the distance she saw a flock of birds flying towards the horizon. She stood watching until she couldn’t see them anymore. She looked at the ground and the road was dry. She took a cautious step forward. Then another. The ground was warm on her bare feet and a slight breeze felt cool as it brushed her cheek.

The ducted heating had come on automatically. Aaron’s side of the bed was still made, pillow untouched. She turned over to look at the clock. She’d slept. A slice of sunlight shone on the cream walls of Aaron’s bedroom. She pulled the blankets close and closed her eyes, imagining his wings around her.

My time with you

©2013 Danielle N. Bilski