NaNoWriMo Day 1

Here's my first day's work for NaNoWriMo 2009! Introduction / explanation is at the bottom, but read that last so that your reading isn't biased. And let me know what you think!

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She was so beautiful.

I remember when she turned 22, circa 1983; we have a video of her sunning in the back yard, kids playing in the plastic pool. Her hair was curled, but not permed - the terrible 80's frizz somehow missed her - and her skin had darkened that summer to a golden tan. She was about 7 or 8 months pregnant then, glowing with it and with the sunlight. Looking pained but happy, and the kids running up to her all blonde and in their bathing suits, getting drops of water on the tops of her legs as they begged her to watch them go down the slide on their tummies.

Even then, though, I think the change was taking root inside her. None of us knew it, least of all she, but looking back I think it was already underway. I love her so much, even now. Now most of all, really, when all I am left with are these video memories. It's hard to tell the difference between stories told to you and stories you were there to see. My strongest memories are of the times she really came to me, really needed me -- helping her through the separation, and several years later, through the divorce. Oddly enough, even helping her through the process of putting me away, where I could be looked after properly - even then I was her shoulder to cry on. That was a hard time for us, and a tough decision, but I think it was the right one. And I will always, always be there for her - she's part of me, whether for better or worse.

The change was well manifested during that time, which I think is why she needed me so much. Normally she was so independent - fiercely strong and insanely courageous. I mean, that's exactly it. Every day of her life she was like a wild, beautiful beast - warm at the best of times, savage at the worst. Mysterious the most. And it was reproach that got her riled up most of all - she never could take correction, especially from me. How it was that we could be mother & daughter, built of much the same stuff, I'll never understand.

But she died last spring. I may as well acknowledge it, out loud, and stop gently forgetting. But I can't have outlived her! Not after we set up this place for me to die in, after she cleaved to my chest like a child in the doorway before she took off. We had made a deal with each other, to keep from going crazy while the investigations were going full bore - long as I was still around she wouldn't disappear, wouldn't forget about me in here. She'd kept her word for, what, 6 years. And finally disappeared. Radiantly beautiful until the very end, despite what the change had done to her. I'll admit my words aren't unbiased, but I know it was true because I saw it reflected in everyone's eyes after all was said and done - how could someone so beautiful have gone so wrong.

Her grandchildren - grandchildren! - will have nothing to do with me. They're the only ones left, the heirs of all this madness, they and their uncle, her only son. Although it pains me so much that they're hurting, I suppose I can understand. I know a lot of the media speculated that I had driven her to become what she did - not directly, of course, but because we clashed, or I pushed her buttons, or whatever you want to call it. I think that's ridiculous, but blame just doesn't stick to beauty. Nor to mystery, at least that which is romantic. There was nothing ever really beautiful or mysterious about me - I worked hard and I loved harder. I can say with a clear conscience that I have always been there for anyone who has ever needed me.

And Lila and Jacob - Eva's grandchildren - don't. That might sound cold, or maybe petulant in some roundabout way, but I've always known that the best way to get a horse to drink is to leave it wander until it finally gets thirsty. If my estranged family ever needs my help - and honestly I don't know what I could ever do for them here in this place - they at least know where to find me.

But of course, that said, I suppose I could dredge up some guilt for the fact that I let Eva herself fill me up with her neediness, rather than forging relationships with the two of them earlier on. Lila and Jacob are dear, but I only had eyes for Eva. They were strange to me when they were born, my little funnies. I suppose I had just reached an age where babies no longer made sense to me. You go through that caretaking process and it just saps the life out of you. I think that really disappointed Eva, but by then the change had all but burned us both at the stake - I had little room for else but her, and she for naught but herself.

...

"Do you think you could make that breakfast strudel for us tomorrow, Mom?" I asked, wanting to impress my new friends with her cooking.

She looked at me coolly. "Mandy, no. It's enough that I allowed you to have your friends sleep over. You know I can't relax when there are other people in the house. Your friends--"

"I SAID thank you, Mom. But I wanted to have a fun breakfast too, and I know they'll love the strudel, and we can help--"

"Don't beg me, Mandy. There's plenty of cereal, and, let's see, you can make oatmeal for everyone if you want. But that strudel is a lot of work, and I won't be making it tomorrow."

Huff. "Mom, plea---"

"No 'Mom, please.' I said no. Just be grateful you get to have your friends over at all." Her mouth was set, eyebrows raised slightly. She was waiting to see if I would keep asking, go for the 3rd strike.

"Fine, Mom. Sorry. I promise we won't bother you." I knew better than to push it when a Privilege was on the line - I'd been on my best behavior for weeks, waiting and waiting for her to deem that I'd earned a reward. Getting her to agree to a sleepover was a stretch, but I had gotten away with it by playing up the fact that I had only had a couple of friends anyway, whom I never got to see after school because they rode the bus and I didn't. I turned and started for the den.

"Good girl," she said to my back. A few seconds later I heard her call, "Goodnight, girls!" down the stairs after me.

My friends were almost done setting up sleeping bags and pillows in front of the TV for the night. I was a little nervous around them - I rarely got to have friends over, and was fairly clueless as to what little girls normally did together outside of school. I had a vague notion that they stayed up late and ate snacks and talked, so snacks we had a-plenty, though now came the talking part. I wanted them to like me SO much. I wanted to be swept up in their world, learn from them how to go shopping at the mall, how to deal with boys, the whole bit. And if they invited me over to their houses in turn, surely it would make sense to Mom to reciprocate.

"Did she say yes?" Amber asked excitedly. Time for a reckoning. I'd been talking up the strudel to them, confident my mom would have said yes when she saw how well everything was going.

"Um, she... doesn't have the ingredients right now," I lied, embarrassed. "Well, but, she said..." I thought for a second to explain how my mom doesn't usually like to have other people in the house, but it's-not-you-it's-her. Just as quickly decided against that. "She said we could have oatmeal if we wanted...." Oh well.

"Ooh, I know how to make the best oatmeal!" Sarah piped up. She was probably the sweetest of all the girls, and liked me the most. Usually this fact annoyed me, but for the moment I was grateful.

"Cool, ok," I exhaled, more with relief than excitement. While not glamorous, it would at least be a step up from cereal.

[what happens during the sleepover?]

...

"Breakfast, girls!"

I was already awake, but had been lying still, waiting for the other girls up. I had heard about people loving to sleep in, but had never been able to sleep past about 8am myself. But, breakfast. What was this about?

"Girls!" I heard her call from the top of the stairs. "Time to wake u-up! Breakfast is ready!"

The girls were waking up slowly, rubbing fists into eye sockets and untangling from the sleeping bag jungle. I made my way up quickly, bounded the stairs to see what she was talking about. Maybe she had just set out the oatmeal stuff for us to use - maybe my suspicions weren't actually true. As I approached the dining room, I saw a perfect blueberry strudel sitting on the table, cooling. A cold knot grew in my spine.

"Good morning honey," my mom said from the kitchen. She was facing the stove, using a spatula on something. It was only about 10am, but she was fully dressed. She even had shoes on.

"Th...anks, Mom," I said hesitantly. This felt like some kind of trick - I wasn't sure how to respond.

"Hey, thanks Mrs. Wallace!" Amber piped up behind me. I had failed to notice her arrival shortly after mine. "This looks delicious! Did you make this from scratch?"

"Oh, no trouble. Did you girls have a fun night?" She wheeled around with a plate of pancakes in each hand. I was mystified.

"Yeah, we played games until like four in the morning!" Megan said, sliding into a seat at the table. I silently joined them, the cold knot growing.

"Wow, banana pancakes too! You really went all out, Mrs. Wallace," Sarah said. I winced. I was going to have to pay for this later.

Everyone echoed their thanks, filling their eyes with the spread.

[more breakfast conversation, then everyone leaves]

...

"Thanks, Mom, for doing the strudel. And the pancakes. You didn't have to," I said, forcing open the door that she had left ever so slightly ajar.

"Well. I wanted to." She was digging in the drawer for aluminum foil and didn't look at me while talked. Maybe the thanks had caught her off guard, and this wouldn't all explode like I had thought it would. "You said you wanted to have a fun breakfast for your friends."

There it was. Good tactic - make me own it. "They all really liked it. I told them you were a good cook." She turned to look at me. Softening her up before the blow came was all I could really do.

"I just hope you remember this the next time you ask for a privilege. Remember that I'm the one who has to take care of it." Her eyes were black orbs.

"I'll... go clean up the den...." I tried to sneak away--

"Mandy! No. LEAVE IT." Her voice thundered, and she was quick behind me. "I'll clean that up later, too," she said, at normal volume but higher pitch. She was stooping over, almost at eye level with me.

"I JUST want you to know, Mandy," she said, boring into my face with her eyes and her hot breath. Her right hand found my left wrist and squeezed. "EVERYTHING I DO for you."

"Yeah, Mom--"

"DON'T YOU TAKE THIS ALL FOR GRANTED!" She was now screaming directly at me, her face distorted and terrifying.

"No, Mom, I---"

"YOU WHAT! You WHAT, Mandy?!"

"I... I don't! I mean, I really appreciated it! Like, I'm not taking it for granted--"

"You kids take everything I do for granted."

[how to resolve this argument?]

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Word count: 2,046 / 50,000

Ok, so. I'm trying to take a lot of inspiration from Geek Love here in the narration style and POV. What I'm ultimately going for, though, is a larger statement, a la Mary Shelley, about monster-making. How parents can scar their children in the name of love, or act as monsters themselves and tell themselves it's for their kids' own good. I'm laying the groundwork now for what will hopefully become clear as a twisted network of complex, subverted family roles - kids as parents, parents as kids, siblings as both strangers and self.

I can tell I am going to have trouble, though, with the narrator being too much in her own head. A lot of this is written as post-liminal stream of consciousness, so I need help in identifying which passages need more description & back story, and which need less exposition in general. I'm also finding the active scenes a bit more taxing - I'm not sure I do so well with dialogue. Please let me know any thoughts you have about how this could be stronger.