Thanks – I’ll re-look at the first sentence
Flash Fiction / CHOICES
Meredith was genuinely happy as the warm Florida sun touched her face. It was a perfect November day in Ft Lauderdale. Warm breezes moved the palm fronds in rhythmic pace, evoking a melody of sorts, but Meredith couldn’t discern the song. It lightened her heart, however, as she opened her eyes to the glare of sunlight reflected from the water.
Blessed with 55 years of mostly good memories, she bowed her head in silent thanks. She wasn’t sure to whom she was grateful, only that she was.
Elation gave way to a chuckle of sorts, as Meredith’s lips parted. Wide eyed now, the memories stirred. How happy she had been to feel the wind blow through her hair as she perched on a tall branch of an Oak tree. She was seven-years old, and while her mother looked concerned beneath her, her father’s face shone with pride on that cool Spring day. Not proud that Meredith was able to make the climb, but rather, pleased that she was willing to take the risk. Her father taught her, mostly, that there was no gain without risk.
It was the Pittsburgh Steelers vs., the Cleveland Browns. Her age was around 11, Meredith remembered, but the game was memorable for one specific reason. As her father patiently explained a coaching gaffe that changed the outcome of the game, all his tutoring solidified in clarity. She got it – she understood. Football changed her life. Not only had it precipitated many valuable moments with her father, it provided knowledge and a vocabulary that had opened career doors she never thought possible.
Even her Mother’s lack of parenting after her father’s sudden loss had meaning today. It had birthed her independence, she realized, and contributed to her many successes. Had she been coddled, well, who knows what she might have become. Any resentment she had ever felt towards her Mother’s ambivalence was now forgotten, replaced by a kind of gratitude, tinged ever so slightly by melancholy.
One by one she had lost them all. First her father died then her brother and finally her mother. Victims of cancer, they had all suffered. Meredith barely escaped the curse, but her cancer had been detected early and obliterated completely. The paradox begat a full blown laugh as Meredith’s shoulders shook with hilarity.
Choices, Meredith thought. How astonishing to realize the sheer volume of options life presented. Astounded, she was suddenly acutely aware of the consequences of those decisions.
There had been 55 years of choices, Meredith thought. Whether she had chosen correctly was inconsequential. The results of those choices had led her here, hadn’t they? And here, today, was the most beautiful place she had ever been.
Ok, so she had been married twice. The first marriage ended at her request. Thinking her impetuous act had been a mistake all these years, today she was grateful that her first husband had been happy for all the time they had been apart. The second marriage ended with a great deal of pain for Meredith. Fighting anxiety and abandonment issues for years after, she blamed her paralyzing fear of commitment on her second husband. Today, she knew with certainty he had done her the greatest favor. Ultimately, she was most content when alone. Relief from his always present need had freed her finally. She never really evolved until he left her. Today, she offered him a silent prayer of thanks.
After her last attempt at pregnancy failed at age forty, Meredith told her friends,
“There’s a reason I can’t have children. I’m not sure why now, but someday I’ll understand.”
At the time, her pain had made the rationale indistinct; she knew now it had not been fortuitous.
Meredith raised her face to the sunlight, delighted by the gentle kiss of the heat. All my life I’ve felt lucky, she hypothesized, rising to go indoors. After making her way into the house, she stripped from her bathing suit. Before entering the shower, she threw a load of laundry into the machine. Meredith loved to wash clothes. A simple task, it netted immediate and positive results. In dirty, out clean. So simple and so satisfying.
The water from the shower was gentle as it washed over her. She could already see the tan emerging from her few hours of basking. Healthy, she thought. A slight tan makes one appear so healthy. Soap suds soothed as she closed her eyes to the water. Meredith loved clean. She always had a clean house, a clean closet, a clean garage, a clean laundry room, clean drawers, and above all a clean body. She was proud hearing many friends’ voices echo, “You could eat off Meredith’s floors.” That was but one small objective of many goals that Meredith had accomplished. Yes indeed, Meredith was clean.
Massaging shampoo into her scalp and hair seemed to arouse the memory, as if rubbing her head was forcing images from her mind into the openness of the shower stall, like a hologram. After the first seizure, Meredith had shared her fear with friends. Finally consenting to see a doctor at their urging, she started the first round of tests.
“We need to rule out the heart before we can explore the neurology,” the doctor explained. “It could be either, so let’s start with a stress test, EKG, echo-cardiogram, and the like. If those net negative results, we’ll look at the brain.” And so it began.
At first Meredith shared all the information with everybody. Every test result, every new procedure became a topic of conversation on the phone, across a dinner table, or a quick coffee. Her life, though private, was never secretive. Meredith generally shared good times and bad with those she loved. But after a month, Meredith, contrary to her nature, began to lie. Tired of explaining, she retreated, determined to keep her own counsel.
“I’m fine. No, no it isn’t the heart. The brain became an issue, but they’ve ruled that out now. They aren’t sure. We’re in a wait/see mode. No I haven’t had an episode for a long time. It’s sort of like taking your car in for a rattle, then not hearing the rattle while it’s in the shop.”
Honesty was Meredith’s highest held virtue. No one doubted her, because Meredith never perjured herself. Everyone knew that. But something warned her that this was hush-hush information she needed to hold close.
“It’s inoperable, Meredith. It’s not malignant, but the brain tumor is inoperable nonetheless. There isn’t a lot we can do. The progression is uncertain, but at some point you’ll lose some mobility and it’s only a matter of time before your cognitive ability is affected. Pain? I’m not sure about pain…it’s hard to predict, but we can manage pain these days. How severe are your headaches now? You let me know when you need stronger pain medication. I know you’re alone Meredith, I know there isn’t any family. I’ll give you the information for Hospice. No, I can’t say how long, but not more than six months. I’m so sorry Meredith. My best advice is to get your affairs in order.”
Meredith had never been hugged by a physician before; the embrace felt penitent, contrite, and scary. Shock barred any tears at that moment, but walking in the back door from her garage she erupted in volcanic fashion, hysteria overwhelming her. Melting into her celery green couch, alone with her terror, she began hiccupping with sobs. The seizure that followed was the worst yet. The spasms rendered her left side useless for a full fifteen minutes. The blurring of her vision was so severe, she felt blind.
That was just two weeks ago. Drying herself now, she couldn’t remember what made her so hysterical. At some point, the trepidation had simply melted into resolve.
She had flown to Ohio, just to look at her nephew and see her oldest friends. She loved them all with a ferocity that she couldn’t articulate. Intending to tell them, when face to face, she grew suddenly mute. Somehow she knew she had to preserve her silence. Instead, Meredith teased and laughed and took great care to make them whoop with her. Arriving back in Ft Lauderdale, acceptance inundated her.
So now, on this sunny perfect November day, Meredith carefully applied her makeup and took extra care with her hair. She slipped into a slim black skirt, a low cut white blouse, and her highest black stilettos. She was pleased at the figure gazing back at her from the full length mirror.
Her training had paid off and her shoulders and arms looked toned and younger than her years. Red hair gently curled around an oval face with wide brown eyes. It seemed the lines around her mouth had suddenly disappeared. The heels accented her shapely legs, and her gold ankle bracelet gleamed in the light. A wide smile revealed perfectly shaped white teeth. Meredith felt beautiful.
She folded her load of clothing, stacking them in an orderly fashion before methodically dispatching them to the appropriate drawers. After bundling the vibrators, her chosen lover of the last few years, into a garbage bag she walked them outside to the trash can. No need to embarrass anyone by their discovery. Returning to her office, she checked her desk one last time making sure all was in order. Paperwork was piled properly, all edges even. She carefully re-read her letter of instruction before placing it next to the explanation she had scribed with painstaking care. There was no apology. Meredith firmly believed that an act of contrition was unnecessary.
Sliding open the glass door to the terrace, Meredith relished the affection of the sun once more. Walking through each room of her house, Meredith became even more appreciative for the time she had been allowed here, in this house, on this earth, in this life. She checked the refrigerator one last time, assuring herself that anything that might spoil was discarded. Stepping into the garage Meredith closed the door behind her.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, Meredith felt alive with sheer exhilaration. She reflected happily, satisfied to have been loved and to have loved, grateful to have received and hopeful that she had adequately given back. Mostly Meredith was pleased for the opportunity to make this final choice.
A tube affixed to the exhaust was snaked through a back window as Meredith started her car. Alone, unafraid, and satisfied with all the pieces that comprised the stained glass montage of her life, she turned on her CD player. “I believe in miracles…” belted Hot Chocolate. Meredith closed her eyes for the last time strongly believing in the miracle of life and convinced that death was no less extraordinary. Meredith knew that death was a gift; for herself and for all those that she loved. There would be no witness forced to endure her suffering. “You Sexy Thing” played on as Meredith took her last breath.
Meredith was discovered the next morning. She was smiling.
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msmalls reviewed Version 2 -
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As I got to the end I thought it was strange that Meredith would fold laundry in her going out outfit but then it creped up on me. I totally thought she was simply going to have a night on the town and live it up for the time she had left, sort of like that Queen Latifah movie. But the suicide twist was not something I saw coming. Though I wanted to skip forward in the story, I found myself glued to find out what happened, as a note I must say that my reasons for wanting to skip ahead were more because of the subject matter and not your lack of writing skills. I like the way you formatted this piece it makes it very readable, I will try and use this myself in the future.
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Rikivan reviewed Version 2 -
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I think this story has definite publishability (if that is a word). Your writing has a very gentle, easy to read way about it. You have developed Meredith into a very strong character. As the story progresses it gets better and better. I do not think the first paragraph does justice to the story. I almost did not continue reading, but I liked the style and tone and continued. I am glad I did. The first paragraph is the hook to reel the reader in, especially if this story is meant for a magazine.
Well Done
Riki
billyblueboy reviewed Version 2 -
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This subject matter is not the type of thing I would normally choose to read, but nevertheless, I thought it was good writing for the most part. In the line which described her parents’ and brother’s death from cancer, it was jolting to have her laugh at that point. It came across as cold and insensitive. I think it might help if the story began with Meredith actively doing something, (even just relaxing on the beach and noticing the scenery would be fine), but the immediate plunge into her thoughts and memories made it a little difficult to get into the story because I didn’t know Meredith yet and had no particular reason to care about her memories at that point. There was (perhaps) the faintest hint of seeming to use the story as a vehicle to make a point, as if Meredith were an incidental thing and anybody else would have done just as well. That impression had disappeared by the end of the story, though. The thing that made Meredith really come to life was the detail about her being so clean- that made her seem real. Good work overall.
Nani reviewed Version 2 -
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While Meredith is a very likable character whom I would enjoy meeting or having as a friend, I found myself rather bored with her. Where are her rough edges? Nothing really makes her or her life stand out to the point that I get curious or want to read on. This is not to say that you don’t have talent—your writing is very clean, easy to read. I am sure that my comments simply reflect my own personal taste and that others will enjoy the positive, straight-forward layout here, but for me I could see the ending coming for quite a while.
One possibility to make the story tighter would be to zero in on just a few elements of Meredith’s life and explore them more deeply, rather than giving a quick skim over every major relationship/decision. But that’s just one idea.
JillianChan reviewed Version 1 -
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I have to begin this by saying that this does have potenial, but could be improved in many ways. There is a lot of telling in this, meaning that emotion words are used instead of descriptive words. Words like happy and furtive do not describe actions very well and could be replaced with other more descriptive words. I think that this could be publishable, I am an editor in a literary magazine, if it could be spiffed up a bit…for example:
“She folded her load of clothing and put the stacks away neatly. She bundled the vibrators, her chosen lover of the last few years, into a garbage bag and walked them outside to the trash can. No need to embarrass anyone by their discovery. She checked her desk one last time to make sure all was in order. The paperwork was neatly piled with instructions. The letter of explanation written with such care was on top of the pile. There was no apology. Meredith firmly believed that an act of contrition was unnecessary.”
COULD BE CHANGED TO:
“She folded her load of clothing and put the stacks away NEATLY. She bundled the vibrators into a garbage bag and walked them outside to the trash can. RETURNING TO HER DESK She checked one last time to make sure all was in order. The paperwork was NEATLY piled AND The CAREFULLY WRITTEN letter of explanation was on top. There was no apology.”
Most of this is showing, and I think that a couple of the telling sentences could be edited out or turned into better sentences. neatly is another word that is hard to picture, try and think of a better way of describing how the papers are stacked.
You can probably get a beta reader to help you with that if you want or you can just ignore my advice if you think your work is good enough as is, either way it is your choice. Your work is your own and whichever you decide I do wish you good luck!
Deanus reviewed Version 1 -
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Interesting topic, although you describe her apparant happiness with her lot I still get an overwhelming feeling of sadness. I wonder if this is intentional. One thing I would warn against is the use of wholely American terms of reference such as the US football game. Although I have a grasp of the game and it’s rules the technical terms therein will be alien to most non americans. Having lost a partner of 17 years to suicide this piece did evoke strong feelings within me, perhaps I am not totally able to give a wholely abject critique therefore. I did find the account a little slow going at first but when the ultimate subject matter was revealed I was gripped. The part where she discards her vibrators caught me like a slap in the face, after such a nice pleasant and correct introduction to her this revelation was shocking but did make her all the more real. Publishable? Yes, anything and everything is in my opinion, so if you can, do. Predictable? No, not at all really, you knew something was coming but the act of reading prevented the slooth in me from sussing the punch, so well written. I hope my comments are of some help. Dean.
labyrinth reviewed Version 1 -
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it gave me chills. lol good use of memories to set up a connection betwwen reader and character., something that is hard to do in shorter peices.the simple act of checking the refrigerater for anything that might spoil gives the piece a sense of truth. However i would have liked a little more emotion from meredith. though she has taken control of her fate this way . It still is bittersweet.
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