Preview #2: An Unpopular Opinion (Working Title) – Prose

Hi.

Sharing is hard, right? I used to have a lot of trouble with stuff like this. You’ll find my early blogs to be pretty reserved in terms of what they cover, I’ll get close to saying something rather forward, but then stop. In person, I really wasn’t like that. You’d either get to hear about every single aspect of my life or just about nothing. But lately, well, I guess I’ve just been more forward.

Sharing poetry and writing though… that’s a bit different. It still is hard. But, here I am!

So. Here’s the next section from my story “An Unpopular Opinion,” which is not the definitive title. The characters names are just as likely to change too. This scene is shortly after the initial preview I shared.

I want to point out that the characters in this book aren’t purposefully related to anyone in real life. When people ask how I’ve come up with them, I just say I take all the best parts of people I know and mix them up with the worst parts of humanity I can think of. No one represents anyone in this novel.

Even the main character, an adrift young adult who is working as an editor isn’t meant to be me. Even though she does live in New York, I started writing this book before I even got the job offer to start teaching. It’s all a big coincidence.

Between this and the last preview I’ve skipped one scene. The scene where Jenn goes to pick up Rachel from a diner, and where Rachel gets Jenn to edit a book for a man she met at the bar named Tom.

Tom’s book is about an old woman who is lost after her husband dies. Not knowing what to do, she starts working closely with a PI who thinks that the old woman’s husband is murdered. Jenn signs on to edit the book and Rachel and Jenn head to Jenn’s home.

I think that’s a proper rundown of what’s happened, so… Enjoy!

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I slammed the car door in front of my apartment and clicked the lock button before Rachel could even close her door. We hadn’t said we were hanging out, I just drove home. We walked up the three flights of stairs and I unlocked my door. We hadn’t talked in the car, but Rachel did sing along with a couple of songs on the radio. She didn’t have the voice of an angel, but at the very least it was good to see her happy.

When I opened the door, Rachel hugged the left wall and headed directly to the bathroom. She grabbed her toothbrush and a patch from behind the mirror. I threw her some of her clothes that she left here a week or so ago, and she closed the door. I moved some clothes off the couch and sat down with the TV off and put my head in my hands. To talk or not to talk. Rachel will want to tell me about Tom and will probably want to talk about something going on at the University. So, I am sure I can get away with not talking. Do I want to tell her? I’m not sure. If I stay like this, and keep my face in my hands, she will come out of the bathroom, see me, and she will either try to distract me or try to help me, I’ll make sure it’s her decision.

I’m not meaning to be manipulative here. But sometimes, you get so wrapped up in your own head that you don’t know if you’re ready to get out of your thoughts yet. All I know is I need something or it’ll only get worse.

From behind my palms I heard the shower turn on and sometime later turn off. A few minutes after that I heard the door open, and some quiet footsteps. I didn’t even feel her sit down on the couch, I must’ve been leaning too far forward. It wasn’t long after that that a hand was around my waist and a head on my shoulder.

“Hi,” she said.

I tried to echo her, but I just started to cry.

“No worries bug, no worries.”

I leaned back, and wiped my hands dry on my pants. Rachel leaned back with me and I put my head on her shoulder. “Thanks,” I heard myself try to say, and I felt Rachel nod.

“You’ve been doing well lately Jenn, really.”

“It’s hard.”

“And you’re doing really well.”

Rachel rubbed my back and then my shoulder and eventually I turned to hug her. She held me there for a few minutes before pulling away.

“I don’t have any other clothes here, do I?”

I looked around, as if I’d see them. “No, I don’t think so… why-” The question quickly answered itself as a mix of tears, drool and snot dripped from my chin onto the couch. “Oh.”

Rachel and I stared at each other for a moment with completely straight faces. A few moments later we burst out laughing. I wiped the tears from my face and went to get her one of my shirts. She was a lot taller than me, but we didn’t plan on going anywhere. I washed her shirt and her dress, despite her protests, and we put on some ridiculous home makeover show from the early 2000s. During the commercials Rachel told me that Tom fell asleep in the Uber home and she had to wake him up and put him in bed. She fell asleep on his couch and was woken up by his roommate getting ready for work. Tom got up some time later and, united in their hangovers, they decided to head to “Tom’s favorite” diner. There she read three chapters of the book, while they drank “stale coffee and ate mediocre pancakes,” her words, not mine.

“Did you realize?” I interrupted.

“Did I realize what?”

“How it’s sort of similar?”

“When he gave the longer pitch, yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“Is that what’s on your mind?”

I sighed, “Nothing is on my mind right now, except how much this house’s value will skyrocket with the addition of this freshly stained birch wood balcony.”

“Well. It’s a fiscally responsible investment that also maximizes ‘fun.’”

“My idea of fun? A balcony in the suburbs of Minneapolis.”

“It’s quite a joy, Jennifer. You don’t understand. After a long day out with the kids at soccer practice, relaxing on your new balcony with a nice rosé and a steamy romance novel while your husband finishes up his afternoon shift as the manager at a local Denny’s is beyond compare.”

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Thanks for reading. I know it's just a snippet, but, hey, if I ever finish this thing, I gotta sell it. :)

Have a great weekend!