Page 21 of Life, Love, and Other Messes

I put some leftovers in the microwave and brought my laptop into the dining room. I was expecting to hear back from Jace with her opinions on my edits any day, but there was nothing new in my email. I hadn’t had a good writing day in about a week, so I sat with my Chinese food and a soda and opened my latest file.

When I wasn’t taking my meds, I could start at the beginning and write straight through, idea blooming into idea, even if I wasn’t sure at first where things were going. I had several chapters of that from the other week, but now all I could do was spit out a few scenes here and there. They were mostly non sequential, and I had to draw up major plot diagrams to put them together at the end. It was frustrating, but not as frustrating as trying to get the words on the screen in the first place.

A writing professor I had in college once suggested that if we hit a block, we should just repeat the same word over and over until the next one popped into our brains. On bad days, I could repeat the same word word word word word word for a page and a half without anything emerging to follow it. Words often swirled in my brain like a mosquito that would not be swatted, but sometimes there was absolutely nothing there.

I chewed on my lo mein, thinking about it. Is this even worth it anymore? Am I still having any fun? I knew it was. Even on the days it sucked, sometimes I finished a few thoughts, closed up some loopholes, came up with a good scene. It just took a lot of work.

Stupid fuck Terri for bringing up stupid fuck Veronica. I knew that was part of it. Yes, I told myself firmly, it’s worth it. I knew I just needed to keep trying and maybe, maybe I could find a way to both write for real and be okay at the same time.

I was leaving the college Thursday evening when my phone rang. I expected it to be Mom, but to my shock, my brother’s name came up on the screen. “Hey, Kev. How’re you doing?”

“Fine. Am I calling at a bad time?”

“Nope. Just got out of class. What’s up?”

“Well, apparently, this year is Mom and Dad’s fiftieth anniversary.”

Oh my God, I just got out of there. I hoped for a moment to drive past something really awful so I could join the witness protection program and never be seen again. I knew that wasn’t likely to happen, though, so I put on my big girl panties. “Crap. We need to do something. It’s what, November twenty-fifth? Is that Thanksgiving week? I teach through Wednesday.”

“Yeah, well, Mom has already rented the ballroom at the country club for that Saturday.”

I took a moment to breathe deeply. “Of course she has.”

“I think we’re supposed to take care of the rest.”

“I can’t believe she…” I shook my head. “Yes, I can. Okay. Here we are.”

“Right?” Kevin laughed, but it was terse. “The country club supplies the tables and linens and dishes and shit, and Missy has offered to find a caterer and a bartender and address invitations.”

“She seriously has time to do that? Let me at least do the invitations. I’m useless as far as everything in town goes.”

“Mom has kind of a…” Kevin cleared his throat. “Big list.”

“I’m sure she does. Where is Dad on this?”

“Going along with everything like usual.”

Of course. “Look, send me the details and the list and I’ll get something printed up and take care of sending them out and accepting RSVPs. I can Venmo you to cover part of the rest.”

“I’ve got the rest. I make more than you.”

“Shut up. You have six kids.”

“I’ve got it.” His tone said I was the one who should shut up.

“Is it horrible to say I’m not coming home for Thanksgiving then?”

“Oh, Sam. You’d seriously do that to me?”

“She’ll pay attention to the kids.”

“They don’t fit at the table. You know that.”

My mother had to make a kids’ table in the living room and the fear of one of them spilling juice on the carpet made her tic every time. “Ask the neighbors over or some shit. I can’t take four nights in that house.”

“I’d say you could stay with us, but—”

“She’d throw a holy fit,” we said together.