[Critique Group 1] Leonard's comments on Martia's and Cleora's pieces

[Leonard Tuchyner]

Martia


Well written. 

I wonder if   Robbie’s referral to himself and other men ina small town is a little too  much.  

It seems a little too deprecating. 

He uses it too much. 

Perhaps he is using it as a tactic. 

But the point is well taken. 

He can’t win for losing. 

Claudia’s unwillingness to hear his explanationis reflective of the seriousness  of herfeelings 

and the shock she felt when detecting Veronicasaroma on Robbie. 

It leaves the reader in a fog of anticipation 

and wishing he were there to speak the truth.

Claudia is having a hard time. 

She is pushing away the  two closest relationships she has there. 

Good writing.  

 

Martia sub for June 22

 

 

613 words

Chapter 16

A second Look

 

After meeting with Veronica at the diner forbreakfast, I arrived at Claudia’s apartment shortly before noon for lunch.Claudia was wearing a pretty blue sweater and a cute denim skirt, cutwell-above her knees. Her athletic legs drew my eyes down, but I heardVeronica’s warning in my head and forced myself to look up at her smiling face.

 

“Aren’t you off today?” she asked, wondering whyI was wearing my uniform on a Sunday.

 

“I had to meet someone this morning and take astatement,” I replied.

 

“Well, come on in,” she said, welcoming me witha warm smile. “I’m glad you accepted my invitation for lunch.”

 

I removed my gun belt and draped it over theback of her kitchen chair before following Claudia into the living room.Hitching up my pant legs, I settled into the well-worn nubby couch. Claudiahesitated, so I patted the green cushion beside me. She assumed a seat nearenough for me to cup her hand, but not close enough for our legs to touch.

 

Perched stiffly on the couch, Claudia said, “Canyou forgive me, Robbie, for writing such an insensitive editorial about DoeLake? I know that I haven’t been your favorite person since then …”

 

“Funny,” I said. “You’re the second one who saidthat to me today.”

 

Who was that?” Claudia looked puzzled. Don’t you get along with most everyone in town but me?”

 

“Actually, it seems that I’ve got a lot to learnabout women,” I said. “Sorry we got off to a bad start. I’m not used to someonewho speaks her minds so freely, you know, especially a liberated woman like youwho’s not from around here.”

 

“Sorry, but I’m accustomed to speaking my mind,”Claudia said. “Moving to Doe Lake feels like I’ve traveled back to a time whenwomen weren’t allowed to vote or pursue a career, unless it was nursing orteaching,” she added. “Maybe we can compromise,” she suggested. “I couldacknowledge that Doe Lake should cherish its traditions and small town ways,while you could consider that moving forward isn’t all bad.”

 

“I am interested in moving forward with you,” Isaid, toying with Claudia’s slender fingers, “but I can’t promise to understandthe women’s lib movement. Most country boys are simple when it comes to theladies,” I added. “We’re used to wearing the pants, you know, being theprotector and provider.”

 

“Oh, please. Life isn’t like the televisionshow, ‘Father Knows Best,’ Claudia said. “It’s the 1970s. Men and women canwork together as equal partners these days. You know, men benefit when womenare permitted to pull their weight.”

 

“I’m learning,” I said. “But old-fashioned guyslike me feel threatened by self-reliant girls like you who can take care ofthemselves. What would happen to the traditional family if all the women wantto work instead of raising children?”

 

Claudia answered my question with two questionsof her own. “Why can’t women have their cake and eat it, too? Men have it bothways, don’t they?”

 

“Okay then,” I countered, “if women want it bothways, why do men always have to pick up the dinner bill?”

 

“You’re hopeless,” she replied. “Let’s tablethis discussion until after lunch.” Claudia rose from the couch and Isheepishly followed her into the kitchen.

 

Her hands trembled as she laid out a simple menuof grilled cheese sandwiches, tuna salad, and potato chips on the table. Aftersitting, she folded and refolded her napkin.

 

Ever so smoothly, I changed the subject.

 

“Has Mr. K asked you to cover Doe Lake’s icefishing competition next week?”

 

“I’m planning to ski around the lake that dayand take pictures of the event for The Messenger,” she said. “Are youcompeting?”

 

“Yes. In fact, I can offer you a front rowseat,” I said. “I’ve got a shelter big enough for two. You can even dip a linethrough the hole yourself and see if you come up with a nice pan perch orpike.” Spreading my arms wide, I bragged, “Last year, I caught a two-foot Pikebut only came in second place.”

 

“How do you keep from freezing sitting on theice all day?” Claudia asked.

 

“I have a little propane heater, and I sit on acooler while enjoying a six-pack of beer. We could keep each other warm in theshanty,” I suggested.

 

“Why do you need a cooler to keep the beer coldif it’s freezing outside?” Claudia asked evasively.

. 

“The cooler’s not for the beer. It’s for thefish,” I chuckled.

 

“Let me think about it,” Claudia said. “Itcertainly would be a new experience for me.  By the way, are women allowedto compete in the contest?”

 

“Well,” I hedged. “Women play an important roleat the event. They keep the men warm, and they can help clean the catch.”

 

“Oh, please.” Claudia launched back into herwomen’s lib lecture. “Only men can compete for the prizes?”

 

“Well, maybe I could ask the contest organizersto consider a special category for females next year,” I mumbled, stuffingpotato chips into my mouth.

 

Claudia stood and carried her half-empty plateto the sink. “Don’t do me any favors, Robbie,” she said, confronting me witharms crossed across her pretty chest.

 

“Now, Claudia, be fair,” I said, standing up formyself. “No one has complained about the rules before now. It takes time tochange traditions in a small town.”

 

“Some traditions are outdated,” she argued. “Doyou think women in Doe Lake are mindless robots like the Stepford Wives? Tellme, Robbie. What exactly are you looking for in a woman, anyway?”

 

“Well, the usual, you know,” I coughed into myfist to disguise my discomfort.

 

Someone to cook and clean and massage your ego?”she said.  “Sorry, that’s not me.”

 

“Naw, that’s not what I mean,” I struggled toexplain. “It’s just that good old boys like me are comfortable with things theway they are.”

 

Just because a woman has her own opinions andideas doesn’t mean she’s a man-hater, you know,” Claudia retorted.

 

“So, you don’t hate me?” I advanced and pressedClaudia into my arms, moaning with satisfaction. For one sweet moment, shemelted into my embrace, but then, abruptly she pushed me away.

 

“Don’t tell me you were with Gloria Vanderbiltthis morning,” Claudia shouted, her face as red as a lobster.

 

“Gloria Vanderbilt?” I asked, confused.

 

“I would recognize the aroma of Ronnie’strademark perfume anywhere. You were with Veronica this morning, weren’t you?”Claudia accused.

 

“Wait, I can explain,” I protested. “Veronicadidn’t want anyone to know that I was with her earlier. She asked me to keepour meeting a secret.”

 

“Of course she did,” Claudia persisted. “Shewouldn’t want me to know that the two of you were together.”

 

“That’s not it,” I said, reaching for her again.“It was strictly business,” I tried to explain.

 

“Business?” Claudia stepped away. “I know allabout Veronica’s interest in funny business. This must have been the news shewanted to tell me about. Why did I think I could trust either one of you?

 

I tried to object, but Claudia was having noneof it. Ready to escape the heat of her kitchen, I grabbed my gun belt from thechair.

 

“Please leave,” she fumed, “and feel free totell Veronica that her little secret is out.”

 

Claudia pushed me out the door and the lockclicked behind me. Retreating down the stairs, I was disturbed by the sound ofher muffled tears.

 

Damn it. I had blown it again, although I wasn’tquite sure what I’d done wrong. I had honored my promise to Veronica, but I hadpissed off Claudia in the process. Sometimes, a guy couldn’t win, no matter howhard he tried. Should I have exposed Veronica’s secret to Claudia, or should Ihave refused to make a promise to Veronica. Women sure were complicated. Ifonly men could get along without them, I thought. Perhaps local girls wereeasier to be around, after all. A simple woman like Chicky would be happy tokeep me warm in a cold hut during the ice fishing festival, I thought.

 

* * *

 

Claudia had fussed all night over what to wearafter Robbie accepted her invitation to stop by for lunch the next day. Shewanted to look attractive without looking like she was trying too hard. She wasworking to update her casual college clothes, but she couldn’t begin to competewith Veronica’s trendy wardrobe. At the last minute, she settled on a shortdenim skirt with a periwinkle wool sweater and matching knee socks.

 

It had been a bumpy road – moving alone acrossthe country to a small town where she didn’t belong, vying against Veronica’sallure for Robbie’s attention, and then losing the town’s trust because of heroffensive editorial. Her confidence was shaken. Unlike her mother who hadsacrificed her dreams for marriage, or the women in Doe Lake who protected andpreserved traditional family values, Claudia was hoping to find some kind ofmiddle ground.

 

For a brief moment, Claudia felt cherished whenRobbie cradled her hand on the couch. What a fool she’d been, Claudia thought,believing in friendship and love. Hadn’t she already learned the hard way thatthe fantasy of happily ever after was only true in fairy tales? In real life,there was only hurt and disappointment. Like a child gripping a magicalballoon, she wanted to believe in love, but she knew all too well that dreams,like balloons, could burst.

 -----------

Cleora






Good job. 

You leave the reader ina cliff hanging place.  

They seem hopeless. 

But I guess it isn’t

, if the storycontinues. 

Maybe they’ll make rosesout of stink weeds. 

It is clearly expressed.

I didn’t run into any ofthe typeoes we normally experience. I repeat, good job.

 

 

Okay, thought Misty. Three down, one to go. But,how was she going to do it? The last name was blotted out.

 

There was a sound like a twig snapping, andMisty found herself back in the forest.

 

“Good job,” said Ginger. “How do you feel?”

 

Misty stood staring at the small creaturefloating in front of her. 'How did she feel?' It seemed like a century sincethis morning and the fight with her sister. 'That must have been yesterdaymorning by now.' “I guess I missed Christmas,” she said. “I guess that's whythe last name is blotted out. I didn't get to all of them. I'm sorry, I failed,I guess.”

 

“No, That's part of the magic,” said Ginger. “Itis still Christmas. You have time to resolve the last name. So, how do youfeel?”

 

Misty thought back over the recent events.“Well,” she said. “The first boy's family got the money to pay off the medicalbills, and have a special dinner at a fancy restaurant. That seemed to be agood Christmas for them. They were together, and they saw that being togetherwas more important than

presents. The grandmother and Gary got to spendChristmas dinner together. It wasn't a fancy expensive meal, but thegrandmother, I think, is going to be able to come to the rescue of hergrandson. The nurse didn't have to spend Christmas alone, and she was able tohelp a family come together. I sort of sensed that was important to her.”

 

“Look at the last name,” said Ginger.

 

Misty continued to stare at Ginger inbewilderment for a few seconds, then shrugged and looked at the last name. Shegasped. It was Connie Parker.

She looked up at Ginger. 

 

“Time to go home.” With that, the faery put herfinger beside her nose and flipped, and Misty found herself standing justoutside the kitchen door. 

 

Her parents were talking.

 

“What are we going to do about Misty?” asked hermother.

 

“Misty will come home eventually, I'm moreconcerned about the fight they had. Any idea what it was about, Alice?” askedher Dad.

 

“I think Connie may have overheard me talking toyour mother.”

 

“About the plan?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Not good. Has she said anything?”

 

“No, she's been hiding out in her room eversense.”

 

Misty felt a fist like grip on her midsection.She tried to remember what Connie had said before and during their fight.Focusing on the fourth name, and

putting her finger beside her nose, shetransported herself to the bedroom she shared with her sister. Connie wassitting at her desk writing in her diary.

Misty peered over her shoulder and read.

 

“Dear Francene,

“I overheard Mom on the phone with GrandmotherParker. She was talking about giving Misty and me to her after Christmas.

“Mom and Dad don't want us anymore.

“I accused Misty of it being her fault, but I didn'treally mean it. Now Misty is gone. Probably forever. I know Mom and Dad willblame me for it. 

 

Misty remembered something like that, but shehadn’t known what her sister meant at the time. Things were starting to makesense. But, what were Mom and Dad planning? She couldn't believe their parentsdidn't love them. She reached out to touch Connie but Connie didn't respond.“Connie,” she said. But, her sister didn't hear her. The phone began to ring.Misty walked down the hall to the kitchen.

 

“It's Mom,” she heard her mother say. “Mom, Johnis here. I'm going to put you on speaker.”

 

“Merry Christmas, Grandmother Conner,” saidJohn.

 

“I wish it could be a Merry Christmas. Are thetwo of you sure you can't work this out? There are rough spots in everymarriage. Pat and I certainly had them, but we were always able to work itout.”

 

“I know, Mom, but John and I have already talkedabout this. We both agree that it would be best for the girls not to be placedwith either of us, and we don't want to put them through shared custody, orsplit them up. We were hoping you would be willing to take them. We will askthe judge to award you custody and both of us visitation rights. The lawyersays this is possible. If you don't feel you can take them, we'll ask hisparent’s, but our first choice is you.”

 

“I see you have been working on this for awhile. If Pat was still here...” Her voice trailed off. “Both of John's parentsare still living aren’t they?”

 

“We thought about that,” said John, “but, myfather isn't well, and we would rather not put this additional burden onthem.” 

 

“I see,” said Grandmother Conner. “Well,” shehesitated, then continued. “if the two of you are determined, Yes, I would behappy to take the girls

assuming the girls agree. I think they are oldenough to have something to say about this”

 

“Thank you, Mom.” she looked up and smiled atJohn. then spoke to the phone. “Are you coming for Christmas?”

 

“Peter said he would drive me out,” she said.

 

“Can you stay until New Year's? We thought wewould wait until after the holiday to tell them, and then they could pack uptheir things and go back with you.”

 

“We can work that all out later,” GrandmotherConner said. “I'll see you soon.”

 

They said their goodbyes and disconnected thecall.

 

Misty tried to touch and talk to them, but theycould neither hear or feel her presents.

 

She stomped her foot. What was she going to do.The most important name on the list and there was nothing she could do. Theywere all going to have a perfectly Miserable Christmas followed by a perfectlymiserable life. A Misty Christmas is what they would call it after she messedit up like she did everything else.

 

She heard a twig snap, and she was back in thewoods. Ginger floated in front of her.

 

Misty grabbed at Ginger who continued to stayout of reach.

 

“This is all your fault!” she shouted “when Iget my hands on you...”

 

Ginger floated up out of reach.

 

Misty jumped and grabbed. Found a stick andtried to knock the faery down. All without success. Finally she sank to herknees, her face in her hands, and sobbed.

 

“I know,” said Ginger. “It looks prettyhopeless, doesn't it?”

 

Misty nodded. “What am I going to do?” shesobbed.

 

“You're going to get up, dry your tears, and gohome,” said Ginger.

_______________________________________________



 





 
 
Leonard I. Tuchyner, Author
 
https://www.dldbooks.com/tuchyner/

 
  
 
 

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