Young Writers Society

***

For the next hour, I pretended to be sleeping. I’m sure Jackie was doing the same. I had plugged in my Ipod to drown out the roaring engines from outside. After ten hours, that humming started to make me go crazy.

Rich had fallen asleep again. His heavy snoring seemed to fill the gap between Jackie and me not talking. I had grown quite fond of her smile. Now that she was upset, I desperately wished I could see it again.

A tap on my shoulder shook me from the piano drifting in the background of my headphones. Newton Faulkner had been keeping me company.

I opened my eyes and Adolf, I mean Joseph Giggle, was staring back at me. “Everything okay here, Tomas?” His accent emphasized every syllable so differently that I had to decipher his words.

“Oh yes, Mr. Giggle. I am afraid that I made this poor lady a little upset with me. I tend to do that when I get to know someone too well.” I laughed at my own expense. Joseph was not laughing, however.

“Mr. Tomas, you are too hard on yourself. Please try and be your own best friend. Plus do not worry. She will come around, heh? They always do for you handsome Americans.” He smiled his big yellowish smile. It wasn’t the prettiest smile in the world, but it may have been the friendliest. It was a complete contrast to how I viewed him just eight hours ago. “Anyway, we have almost landed. Do you have any trash?” I shook my head. “How about that young misses you are talking about?”

I poked around her tray and picked up her small plastic cup where sparkling water had once been held. I picked up her napkin and brushed crumbs of whole wheat, Wheat Thins into the cup. “That should be all.” I brushed them all into the plastic bag held over Rich. As I did, a small golden necklace fell out of the napkin onto my lap.

I opened it.

Inside was a faded picture of a young boy, about eight years old, underneath a young girl on a swing. It was clearly Jackie on top. On the other lid of the locket read, “Franz: loving brother and son. Gone for now, but always in our hearts. April 3, 1979-April 6 1994.”

I closed the locket. “What do we have there Mr. Tomas?”

I shook my head as a single tear of explanation rolled down my cheek. I struggled for air, the emotion flooded to the surface so fast.

My coughing and crying must have been loud because Rich woke from next to me. “What’s wrong Tomas? Are you choking? Tomas show me if you’re choking!” Rich was practically yelling now. Everyone’s head turned and looked at me, including Jackie’s.

The locket was sealed in my hand. I was squeezing it so hard, I was surprised not to have a permanent tattoo from it.

“No. Rich I’m okay.” I tried to gain my composure. I closed my eyes and put my Ipod back in as quickly as possible. I could feel Jackie’s eyes on me, but I didn’t want to talk right now.

“Mr. Tomas! Mr. Tomas!” The towering German steward was tapping me on the shoulder. I pulled out my earbuds once more. “What was in the locket to cause such a reaction?”

Jackie frantically searched her person after hearing of a locket. She knew where she had left it, and now her tray table was up. I patted her hands. She flipped it over, and I dropped in the precious necklace. She clasped it strongly.

Looking in her eyes I said, “Now . . . now I understand.”

Mr. Giggle had to get through the whole plane before the seat-belt sign was back on, so he hurried away down the long aisle. I turned my music back on and tried to recompose myself with my eyes closed. Rich’s bewildered face was still searching for answers.

“What in the hell was that Tom? I thought you were dying!”

“No Rich,” I said over my music, “Only my pride was. I am okay.” That seemed to be enough for him. I think he was still concerned about my health, but that put him at ease enough for him to sit back and relax.

Jackie lifted up her armrest as she had so many hours earlier, so I could have more room. I felt her hand clutch mine, interlocking fingers just tightly enough so I knew I was okay to speak to her once more.

Maybe it was my tears that turned her, or maybe that she felt more comfortable with someone else knowing about her precious older brother. The burden may have felt lighter that way. I’m not sure which.

She pulled out one earbud and kissed me on the cheek lightly, but not sensually. It must have been my tears. “I know what it feels like to lose someone, Tomas. Don’t carry my pain with you. You have enough of your own. I can tell.” She whispered lightly into my ear. It was a message just for me. Had I finally found someone who understood me?

I didn’t open my eyes until we had screeched to a halt on the runway, but I had not let go of Jackie’s hand. She never showed signs of wanting me to, either.

“The way you responded to my brother wasn’t how most people respond. They normally shower me with pity.” Jackie said as I grabbed her bag down from overhead. We were the last two on the plane. Rich had gone on ahead keen on finding his wife.

“Sometimes I surprise myself with how emotional I can get. This,” I grunted under the surprising weight of her bag, “was one of those times.” I nudged my head towards the seats where I had blubbered like a baby.

“You’ve been through that kind of pain before, haven’t you?” Jackie began to walk up the aisle, rolling her bag behind her.

“Every day of my life.” I said nonchalantly.

“Tomas,” She stopped and turned to face me, “you know what I mean.”

“Have I been hurt before to the point of tears? Yes, many times. Have I lost loved ones so precious to me that I thought I would die because I lost them? Absolutely. More than one!” I didn’t yell but my point was driven home. Pain had been a part of my life from early ages.

“Wait a second.” Her mental gears were piecing things together. “Your book about a young man losing a father, that’s about you isn’t it?”

“Not one hundred percent.”

“Tomas, I’m so sorry.”

“Only about ninety-five, give or take five.” I smiled at her. She didn’t return it. “Don’t feel sorry for me, Jackie. I am a very happy guy.”

“With a lot of wounds,” She moved closer to me, putting a hand on my heart, “and a tender soul.”

She looked straight up into my eyes. “I prefer to call it a feminine side . . . that only a few privileged individuals ever get to see, I might add.”

“Sir. Madam. We need to clean the plane. Can you please make a speedy exit?” The janitors were standing at the front of the plane.

“Sorry we’ll be out very quickly. Thanks for your patience.” I said. I pushed Jackie along and followed her up the long, smelly walk-way into the mass of people waiting for their own departing flights. London’s Heathrow Airport was the fourth busiest airport in the world.

People, lights, lines, moving sidewalks, eateries and more people filled the massive space. The design was impeccable, but could not be enjoyed by the thousands of people crowding around every surface and orifice in the place.

“Tomas! There’s my father.” Jackie pointed towards a man standing singly alone behind the security line. He had spotted Jackie by now and a huge smile appeared behind his salt and pepper goatee.

“Handsome man. No wonder you’re his daughter!” I yelled over the crowd.

“Oh, yes, he’ll like you very much.” I carried my suit bag over my shoulder, pulling one of Jackie's rollers behind me.

“Let’s go meet him, shall we?” She led the way through the crowd of people. I was amazed by it. She bobbed and weaved and zigged and zagged her way all along the terminal to reach her father. The gigantic crowd did not deter her. The largest place I had ever been was Madison Square Garden, and this trumped that one hundred to one by comparison.

By the time I had gotten to them, the initial hugs, kisses, and ‘how-do-you-do’s’ were over. “I hope I didn’t keep you. There are so many people. I got lost and sat down and cried for a minute before recomposing myself.” Jackie’s father let out a hearty one laugh and Jackie smiled at me. I was rather nervous but I thought I handled it pretty well. A firm handshake, eye contact, and helping the daughter carry the bags was not a bad impression. At least I hoped not.

“Mr. McCreary. You look much more handsome than your signature!” I gave him a big smile so he knew I was still joking with him.

“Oh my signature? How would you have seen that, Tomas?” He looked at me through his glasses.

“I am one of your clients as it just so happens, and your mark is on the bottom of each email and letter I receive.” We spoke as we rode the escalator down to baggage claim.

“Oh! My boy, yes. That nasty thing . . . a doctor’s scribble if I’ve ever seen one.” His voice carried so loudly over the crowd that I could still tell he was yelling. I’m not sure if he could, however. He must have been in his late sixties now.

“Silly things signatures. Never liked them much. Firm handshake aught to be a contract, don’t you think Mr. McCreary?”

“Oh son, you do need a whole law firm with that kind of attitude!” He laughed heartily once more. “But you’re right, son. A handshake should be an agreement between two honorable men. Too bad they don’t make ‘em like they used to.” He must have been ‘pulling my chain’ as they say because he continued to laugh.

“He likes you, you know.” Jackie whispered as her father lingered towards the long line of bags flowing through the wall ahead.

“Really? I thought I almost blew it with that handshake line.”

“No. He has said that his whole life. That was expert stuff!” She smiled back at me. “He may even pay for your Villa ticket with that one. Well, either that, or make one of the secretaries stay back and work.” She laughed as well. She was so much like her father it was scary. It helped me understand her a little better though.

Mr. McCreary came hurrying back to us. “Got it! Tomas where do you need to go? I’m your ride. No, no. Surely, you will be riding with us. No objections Tomas. Come along now you two.” I tried to rebuttal his generosity, but he was having none of it.

I ran to catch up to him. “Mr. McCreary, I don’t know where I’m going though!”

He stopped and I nearly plowed into him. “What do you mean, sir?”

“I don’t have a place I’m going to. I was just going to find a hotel here on the fly.”

He looked at me as if I showed him a third eye. “You mean you came half way around the world during the royal wedding to find an empty room for cheap?”

“Yeah . . . well when you say it that way it seems stupid.” I smiled realizing that I in fact did sound stupid.

“No buts about it Tomas, you’re staying at my hotel, no charge.” He brusquely walked across the road paying no attention to the cars honking their horns to pull up to the curb. “Come along you two!” He hollered from the other side.

“Come Tom!” Jackie ran across the road.

“The sign says five seconds!” I argued.

“Run then!” We both hurried across the street, horns blazing in our wake.

I was out of breath and laughing hysterically when we got to the other side. Security was rolling along on their Segways, trying to catch up.

“I’ll get the car, you two wait here with the luggage.” Mr. McCreary said dropping the bags. Jackie and I sat chuckling while he waddled his way down the packed parking garage.

“Run Forrest run!” Jackie screamed after him. Mr. McCreary shook his butt in our direction playing along. “That’s his favorite movie.”

“Are you kidding me? He seems so . . .” I didn’t want to sound rude because he was so kind.

“English?” Jackie raised her eyebrows.

“Well, yeah!” I kept laughing as the Rolls Royce pulled up along side us. “Big laugher your father huh?”

“No one bigger!” Jackie put her bag into the trunk.

“Ah, well I may have known one.” I winked at her as I helped her into the front seat. She smiled up at me as I shut the door.

***

Bill came in holding a rag on his hand. The rest of the family was talking at the table. Laughter was a common thread that kept our family together. Not much could stop it when the stories started rolling. It was just one of those nights that makes me miss my family whenever I travelled or got older.

“Bill? What happened?” I walked over to the sink where he was holding his hand under the cold water.

“That freaking grill has a mind of its own. I swear!” He sounded ridiculous.

I laughed at his pain, as any good brother who has been tortured by his other brother before does. “Smooth man. Do you need me to scrape off your skin from the burgers?” I caught a glimpse of his burn. “Oh man that looks painful!”

“It is now get the burgers before they’re ruined. The pan is out there already but you’ll need a spatula.”

“You are your father’s son. Hurt himself badly and is only worried about the burgers!” It was almost a tradition in our family to do that. Dad had cut his hands, burned himself, fractured an ankle, broke a window, the list goes on. Maybe it was being a klutz that ran in the family.

I grabbed the spatula and walked outside. The flames were dancing higher than ever. “Bill what were you doing out here?” I yelled back into the house.

“I tried peeing on it, but I pee lighter fluid! Who knew?” Bill retorted from the kitchen window.

I put the grill top on and cut off the air and the flames went out after a few seconds.

Two minutes later I was back at the table with my family around me. I always sat next to Dad. He used to help me cut my food and feed me, but I was fourteen now. I didn’t need him to do that anymore.

The next two hours were filled with laughter that brought tears to our eyes.

This was a special night. Last month, a doctor unemotionally told us that my father only had four months to live. This may be the last chance we have to be together as a family.

Everyone was here: all five children and my grandmother Bessie. She was eighty-seven years old and suffered from dementia, but you would never tell when she told her stories of my dad as a boy.

The night was winding down smoothly. The laughter was getting quieter, Bill’s pregnant wife had gone to bed, and the stories were almost repeating themselves.

That is until Grandma Bessie remembered something from her home in Idaho. “It was about 4:30 a.m. and I went to get ice cream.” Her voice was the typical old shaky voice that the elderly and brittle grandparents normally have. “And when I opened up the box about a third of the ice cream was gone!” She looked around as if she had something extremely profound. Crickets chirped. “Well don’t you get it?” She looked at each of us.

“No.” several of us said.

“Someone has been sneaking into my house and taking perfect slices of my ice cream!” She seemed extremely appalled and violated by the thought of it. It may have been my imagination, but I thought I saw her shudder.

I looked over at my dad. He had his eyes closed and his face was bright red. It was like watching water boil over. One second it was peaceful and the next it was exploding. His laugh echoed around the kitchen. Bill had crouched down leaning up against the window while mom had her face in her hands shaking on her chair.

Our adorable west highland terrier, Griffin, came bounding into the room barking at the sudden burst of laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Grandma asked, which only made us laugh harder. I didn’t know why her ice cream was being ‘stolen’ but I did know that she sounded ridiculous. At fourteen, I didn’t need a reason to burst out laughing.

The laughing went on for three minutes, echoing around our cozy kitchen. “Mom,” my dad said, “no one is stealing your ice cream.” He was trying to gain control of himself. His laugh resembled Santa Claus combined with a little girl’s giggle at some points. It was the most contagious laugh I had ever heard.

“Then what do you suppose is happening to my ice cream, Shawn?” My grandma was upset that we had been laughing at her.

Her strong defense just made us laugh harder. It was rude, but extremely funny. “When you keep ice cream in a freezer long enough, Ma, it condenses. That’s why it looked like perfect slices. How long had it been in there?”

“Probably four or five months . . . just like those pizzas you made me last time you were there.” She was referring to another wonderful memory of mine.

“Mom, that was six years ago!” Shawn continued to bellow.

“Oh.” That was all grandma had to say and she was laughing along with the rest of us.

It was an amazing night. Family moments like that are treasures. “Gifts from God, Himself,” Dad called them.

Later that night, I was crawling into bed. It was 10:30 p.m. I was supposed to work in the morning, so I decided the wise thing was to turn in early.

A knock came on my door right as I turned off my light.

“Come in!” I said making sure to be heard over my fan. My dad’s bright face poked through the door. It was so think, drawn as if he had aged thirty years. I hadn’t noticed it until now. He used to be fifty pounds overweight, but an extremely gifted athlete.

“Hey, hug-good-a-bee-good-a-boo-good-a. You going to sleep?” That was how he greeted me all the time. We had once made it into a game to see who could keep it going longer. Of course, I lost because he had been doing it for forty years longer than I had.

“Yeah. Hey, can you take me to work in the morning?” I asked as he sat on my bed.

“Sure thing Big Guy.” His smile faded after that. He put his hand on my leg that was under the covers. “I want you to know, that no matter what happens to me. I will always be your father, and I will always be proud of you.” Tears had sprung to his eyes and rolled freely down his cheeks. I had never seen him cry before.

“Dad, I know. I will get you back no matter what. Death can’t separate friends as good as us, right?” I said smiling. I wanted to cheer him up.

“Right on that one, Big Guy. Also, never lose that laugh you have. People will tell you, it’s too loud, long, annoying, contagious, and on and on about why you shouldn’t be happy. But, son never stop laughing. Never take yourself so seriously that you forget how to enjoy life.”

“Dad you know me. No matter how hard I try not to be, I’m just like you!” He smiled.

“So it seems, son. Also, never think that someone owes you something. Cause they don’t. You go out and get what you want. Work for it. Take handouts if you must, but you better work do what you love for a living because it will keep you happy. If it’s writing, then write. If it’s baseball, then pitch that ball better than Roger Clemens. I know you can do whatever you work hardest towards, since you’re just like me and all.” I sat up and gave him a hug. His tears were now on my shoulder as he held me. It was the moment that I never wanted but had to have with him.

“When you find the girl of your dreams, son. You chase her like you never knew you could. You run and run and run! Make her feel like a princess. Make her feel loved and no matter what she says flowers go a long way.” Wise words from a father to his son. “Oh and the best thing a man can do for his marriage, is run the vacuum in front of his wife. You can thank me for that one, one day.” He smiled at me and laid me back down. “Now off to bed with you.” He reached over and turned my light off once more. “Oh and Tomas . . .”

“Yeah Dad?”

“If one day I am gone and you’re lonely, just know that I am going to beg to come be with you. I will ask God to send me down to comfort you.”

“Okay Dad. I love you.”

“After all, He’s a father too. I love you too son.” He closed my door and walked out.

The next morning, Bill came into my room. “Tomas come upstairs!”

“What’s going on?” I asked rubbing sleep from my eyes.

“It’s Dad.”

I threw on shorts and scrambled up the stairs to the main floor where my father slept. The hospice nurse was walking through the front door. This was not good.

“No. No. They said four months! It’s only been one. NO!” I yelled at her pointing for her to leave. Bill grabbed me and pulled me back, holding me from the room.

“No, don’t touch him! That is my father. Get away from him!” I screamed, tears streaming. The undershirt I wore to bed ripped as I wriggled out of Bill’s arms. I rushed into the room and saw my father lying there motionless; my mother sitting by his said crying.

He was dead.

“Excuse me son.” Two large men were here for the body.

I was rushed out of the room.

I watched as they put a body bag around my father and zipped it all along his frail body. They wheeled him out the front door to the cliché black hearse parked in our driveway. The sun was just peaking above the homes. Birds still chirped like they used to, but life was completely different now.

I walked into the laundry room and put my newly cleaned clothes on. I walked out dressed for work. “Where are you going?” My mom asked.

“To work. Dad’s going to drive me.” I said, silent tears still rolling.

She came quickly and wrapped her arms around me as I crumbled into them, my legs too weak to hold me anymore. “Dad’s going to drive me! Dad’s taking me. Dad . . .” My words were drowned by my tears for my father.

All the joy from the prior night was now completely gone.

***

Wow. That was really good writing... I was almost crying at the end of the chapter. Some mini-corrections:

I had so many negative thoughts about her while I was wondering what I did wrong that I could not bear to face her yet.

It is! Now get the burgers before they’re ruined.

I would break the sentence into two just because the sentence as one is kind of a run-on. The split adds sentence variety too.

She was eighty-seven years old and suffered from dementia, but you could never tell when she told her stories of my dad as a boy.

“When you find the girl of your dreams, son, you chase her like you never knew you could. You run and run and run! Make her feel like a princess. Make her feel loved, and no matter what she says, flowers go a long way.” Wise words from a father to his son. “Oh, and the best thing a man can do for his marriage[,-delete comma] is run the vacuum in front of his wife. You can thank me for that one, one day.”

Your comma quirks are coming out again. I also combined the first two sentences because they were fragments as they were.

Aside from those, there aren't any major changes that I would make. I am a little confused about whether Tom's father died before or after the Stacey incident, so if you clarify the sequence of events in the flashbacks, that would be good. Other than that, keep up the awesome writing!

You did it again! Wonderful! The end of the chapter was sad. I love that you showed us she was devistated. It made me even more sad when she couldn't even stand anymore. Keep it up! Can't wait for the next part!

Omg OMg Omg !!This is just as awesome as the previous ones!!!!!!!!!!

ANd the end was sooo sad! Like i actually cried! o.o Haha wow you have a talent ! You manage to touch your audience's heart! That's just....incredible!

Sorry to be reposting on the same chapter, but I'd been thinking about something for a while that bugged me a little.

I had had so many negative thoughts about her while I was wondering what I did wrong that I could not bear to face her yet.

I'm not entirely sure what you mean because well, Tomas is the main character, so theoretically we should know if he had had negative thoughts about Jackie. He would have told us in the narrative.
But he didn't. We know that he pretended to sleep to avoid her, and we know that he missed her smile
("I had grown quite fond of her smile. Now that she was upset, I desperately wished I could see it again."), but there really aren't any places where he's thinking negative things about her. So I'm sitting there wondering, "what on earth was he thinking about Jackie that he didn't share with us?" And, in the last chapter, Tomas notes that Jackie is showing her scars. So why would he be thinking negative things about her to begin with?

Maybe "I had been so frustrated while wondering what I did wrong..."
or just "After seeing the locket, I could not bear to face her yet."

Frustrated makes sense, whereas I really don't see any negative thoughs.

That was it. XD Hope this is a lil helpful!

Wow, this is really good! I literally almost cried at the end! I have no nitpicks, since I don't like doing grammar. Great job, and now I'm going to go read the next part.