"Hi Sarah!"
I smiled at the pleasant voice as the door swung shut behind me, "Hi Joyce, how are you today?"
"Well little Ben has the chicken pox, but other than that, life moves along," she said in a rolling Irish accent.
I could almost picture her as she had been described to me; a petite frame sitting behind the desk in the Student Services office, bright green eyes and a wide smile surrounded by short curly red hair and a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose.
"I've heard that oatmeal baths help with the itching," I offered as I leaned on the counter. Diana nudged my leg and I reached down to rub her behind the ears with one hand.
"Yes," Joyce agreed, "his Papa is home with him today, and I can just imagine the trouble those two are getting themselves into."
I laughed at the mental image that I got of little Ben and his father running amok through the house. "Well, at least you'll have it over with early," I said by way of consolation.
"Thank heaven," she mock whispered.
I laughed again. Joyce was fun to talk to. "Is Chapter One of the Corporations text ready to go?" I asked. I had to listen to it before the test on Monday.
"Let me check. I'm pretty sure that it is," she said. I listened to her shuffle papers around on the desk and a drawer open and close, pens sliding around inside. "Ah! Here it is," she said, and placed it on the counter so that it touched my elbow.
I dropped my hand and picked up the cassette tape, sliding it into my pocket with a smile. "Thank you Joyce," I said and turned toward the door.
*****
"I'm home!" I called as soon as I shut the front door. By the echoing I could tell that no one was home. I didn't mind; it meant I could be alone for a while.
"Come on Diane, let's get you comfortable and find something to eat," I said as I took off her harness and rubbed her down.
"Yuck! Diane!" I laughed and wiped the saliva from my cheek where she licked me.
We padded towards the kitchen where I filled her food dishes and set my pack on the table. As if on cue, my stomach rumbled as I opened the fridge door and grabbed an apple.
The apple gave way with a satisfying crunch as I moved back to the table. A small study area set up with a tape player waited for me and I slid the new recording into the machine. I felt a smile spread across my face as his voice filled the room.
Corporations: Chapter One...
I had to force myself to concentrate on the information he was reading and not on the smooth rhythm of his voice. It was a steady voice, strong and deep; the tone pure. I was sure that if he sang he would sing Bass.
I tried not to let my mind drift towards wondering about the man behind the voice; a voice I could listen to for hours even if I didn't need to. He made even a dry legal text worth listening to. It was one of the few voices that I would never be able to put a face to, a man I had never met.
A man I could never see.
3 comments:
This was a pretty awesome coda to the post about Chris. You've mastered Sarah's perspective as far as writing minus a sense. I am curious as to how she knows what Joyce might look like - I suppose the implication is that she used to be able to see before; I'm wondering, as an accuracy check, how definite her sense of appearance would be if she lost her sight as a child versus more recently?
Also, you've sort of stumbled back into that old habit of yours where you string too many details together in a given sentence. Details make a scene, but your reader will get confused Sarah is speaking, acting, and being acted upon all at once. You can keep all your details, but just break them up into smaller individual grammatical units for your readers' sanity.
Consider this a demonstration:
"Hi Sarah!"
I smiled at the pleasant voice as the door swung shut behind me. "Hi, Joyce. How are you today?"
"Well, little Ben has the chicken pox, but other than that, life moves along," she said.
Someone had once described her to me: a petite frame, bright green eyes and a wide smile, short curly red hair and a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose. To me she was a rolling Irish accent that always sounded from near where my cane rattled against the desk at the Student Services Office.
"I've heard that oatmeal baths help with the itching," I said as I leaned on the counter. Diana nudged my leg and I reached down to rub her behind the ears.
"Yes," Joyce agreed, "his Da is home with him today, and I can just imagine the trouble those two are getting themselves into."
I laughed at the mental cacophony that I heard of little Ben and his father raising hell in the house. "Well, at least you'll have it over with early," I said by way of consolation.
"Thank heaven," she mock-whispered.
I laughed again. Joyce was fun to talk to. "Is Chapter One of the Corporations text ready to go?" I asked. I had to listen to it before the test on Monday.
"Let me check. I'm fairly sure that it is," she said. She shuffled papers around on the desk, a drawer opened and close, pen slid around inside. "Ah! Here it is," she said, and placed it on the counter so that it touched my elbow.
I lowered my hand and scopped up the cassette tape, slid it into my pocket with a smile. "Thank you Joyce," I said and turned toward the door.
*****
"I'm home!" I called as I shut the front door. My voice echoed back at me. No one was home. I didn't mind; it meant I could be alone for a while.
"Come on Diane, let's get you comfortable and find something to eat," I said. I took off her harness and rubbed her down. She barked happily and licked my face.
"Yuck! Diane!" I laughed and wiped the saliva from my cheek.
We padded towards the kitchen where I filled her food dishes, then set my pack on the table. I opened the fridge. As if on cue, my stomach rumbled, so I felt along the shelves for an apple.
Its flesh gave way with a satisfying crunch, and I moved back to the table. A small study area set up with a tape player waited for me and I slid the new recording into the machine. I felt a smile spread across my face as his voice filled the room.
Corporations: Chapter One...
I had to force myself to concentrate on the information he was reciting and not on the smooth rhythm of his voice. It was a steady voice, strong and deep; the tone pure. I was sure that if he sang he would sing Bass.
I tried not to let my mind drift toward wondering about the man behind the voice, a voice I would listen to for hours even if I didn't need to. He made even a dry legal text worth listening to. It was one of the few voices that I would never be able to put a face to, a man I had never met.
A man I could never see.
I can see the changes you made and why and I really like them. I can see how it flows smoother and everything interconnects better than before.
Post a Comment