Short Story / Jack & Judy
ATTENTION: JOHN BAKER
18TH JULY, 1968
YOU ARE HEREBY CALLED UP FOR NATIONAL SERVICE. YOU ARE REQUIRED TO PRESENT YOURSELF TO COLONEL DAWSON AT ARMY TRAINING DEPOT, KING STREET, NEWCASTLE. YOU WILL CATCH THE TRAIN LEAVING NEWCASTLE AT 8.42AM. BRING A MINIMUM OF CIVILIAN CLOTHING. YOU WILL REQUIRE A PAIR OF RUBBER THONG-TYPE FOOTWEAR, 1 TIN BLACK BOOT POLISH, 1 TIN BRASSO, 2 POLISHING CLOTHS, 1 MARKING PENCIL, I OLD TOOTHBRUSH (FOR CLEANING RIFLE). A NEAT AND TRIM HAIRCUT IS DESIRABLE.
The postman’s hands did not tremble as he delivered the dreaded brown envelope, bundled insidiously between an innocent water bill and a good natured birthday card from a distant aunt. The postman did not even flinch as he slid the death sentence into the suburban letterbox.
Of course the postman knew what the envelope contained – the Army stamp emblazoned loudly across the paper was almost rudely shocking. These letters were becoming more regular, slowly infiltrating the postman’s bag until the brown paper almost outnumbered white envelopes. The conscription lottery spat out more birthdays; more brown envelopes had to be delivered. Across the small town, 19 year old boys were becoming an endangered species.
The recipient of the envelope was less nonchalant. A mechanic’s apprentice, he had the nature of someone with a trade less labour-intensive than his own: he walked carefully, spoke sparsely. He stood tall for his age, though he hadn’t yet stopped growing. A perennial ‘good kid’, he’d strolled through school without event. Teachers at first gently nagged him to try harder, but soon realised it wasn’t worth the effort – he had planned, like so many others, to do what was expected of him.
He had married the first girl he ever loved. Judy’s petite, delicate stature was laughable when contrasted against her fiery persona. Proud, resolute and forever imbued with a steely pragmatism, she strode out of high school and into married life with apparent ease. Her mother, a seamstress, had been deftly adding inches to Judy’s dresses as her pregnant stomach expanded. She would, in five months, give birth to a boy who would inherit his father’s glittering blue eyes.
The mechanic’s garage was owned by Jack’s father. A large, balding man, he maintained fierce belief in any political slogan that was broadcast on his wireless. Brow permanently furrowed, he was often heard quoting Menzies to his beleaguered customers. He had tried in vain to pass this onto his son, who unfortunately cared for little beyond his wife, job, house and car. Jack had inherited the tendency to be easily persuaded, but, according to his father, lacked the tempestuous spirit needed to nobly defend a point of view.
The brown envelope had sat odiously in the unassuming letterbox for three hours when, as he arrived home covered with grease, Jack fished it out, carried it inside and placed the pile of mail on the kitchen table. The letter sat inside the house for an hour until it was discovered. The letter that would shake and crumble the very foundations they had had built their suburban universe upon sat quietly and invisibly in their home for one last beautiful hour until Judy picked it up.
Judy was a woman of determination and courage – her movements were constantly deliberate and her voice never faltered. As she ripped open the dreaded brown envelope, however, her tiny hands began to shake. Her breathing became sharp. Jack’s voice, light-hearted and gentle, became distant as her eyes stumbled upon the words that she had never wanted to see. She became light-headed, could hear only the beating of her own heart. She sat, inhaled, exhaled, and read it again. The words had not changed; they glared vulgarly at her like an ugly scar on smooth skin. National Service.
She could hear her own voice, as if speaking from the mouth of a stranger, call Jack into the room. He sensed her disturbance and followed quickly, concerned. As he stepped into the kitchen he saw the dreaded brown envelope, yet subconsciously prayed with all his might that it was not what he knew it was. He moved slowly to the seat next to his wife. He sat, for a second, anticipating what was to come.
Judy tried to speak, but there were no words. She cleared her throat as tears spilled from her eyes, her expression still of disbelief. ‘You got a letter’, she said, sliding it towards him. He paled. He read the letter. He felt every poisonous word snake through his body. They sat for a moment through the most deafening of silences, numb. Jack did not know what to do or say, but his mind was racing – he knew Judy could cope without him for a while, but could he survive without her strength and guidance? What would happen to his job? Where is this war anyway? Why did they have to choose him? What about the baby?
At last Judy broke the silence. She breathed in deeply, closed her eyes and said: ‘We’ve got boot polish in the cupboard, but I don’t think there’s much Brasso left in the tin. I’ll buy some tomorrow. I’ve got some old rags you can use for a polishing cloth and there’s an old toothbrush in the bathroom. I’ll drop into the hairdresser’s and make an appointment later – I hear they’re pretty busy but I’m sure they can fit you in tomorrow afternoon, all you need is a trim at the front.’ With that, she rose from her seat and walked out of the room.
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This was something else. I really liked the unconventional start and everything after seemed to come naturally. Convincing and well written.
Have you tried changing the tense in this story though? Perhaps go in present tense? I don’t know what you have planned for this so my suggestion may not work but I think you may want to consider it. I think it would definitely add to the work if we as the readers felt it was happening right in front of us rather than in the past. It could be a lot more powerful I think.
There’s also a lot of exposition in the piece, I don’t think it’s necessary for you to explain so much when you might find it easier to show us just how determined or strong Judy is by giving her more revealing actions.
Is the character named Jack or John? The letter is addressed to John so maybe you should change the names? No big deal though. Good work. A good start.
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Since this is a work in progress, I’ll limit my comments because it’s difficult to draw conclusions about unfinished pieces. It seems fair and easy to read so far. I didn’t notice any glaring problems. In my opinion, it’s better to demonstrate characterization through action and narrative rather than simply listing attributes. You could say, insert a scene of John interacting with customers or coworkers at his job in order to give the reader an idea of his personality instead of just writing ”...he had the nature of someone with a trade less labour-intensive…”, etc. That’s my only real suggestion. Good luck with the story.
What happens now? That’s where your story is. As of right now, this isn’t much of a story. You need to flush out your characters more. Right now I’m imagining them as cut out pictures from a woman’s magazine in the 60’s—very little depth and very little reality. It’s hard to believe in a story that doesn’t have believable characters. I understand that you might want to make them the “every-man/every-woman” characters, but when you do that it makes it difficult for your audience to connect to them as people. You need characters that are real in order to get people to read and to enjoy reading it.
Give me scenes with these two BEFORE they get this letter and with other people before you show this scene. Let me actually see what they are like instead of you just telling me that he’s quite and she’s fiery. I don’t believe it unless their actions prove it. Then when you’ve got that done you need to see if you have a story about these two characters. You can make the letter the focus in order to get yourself started, but don’t let it be the only reason that this story was written. It’s not to tell us about the story, but the people.
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