Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Chapter 5: Commitment (Preview)


     This story was another creative writing assignment: Write 10 pages of straight dialogue--no dialogue tags, scene descriptions, or thought fillers. Write a dialogue between two people, add nothing else. 
     It actually turned out to be a lot easier than I expected, and I also learned that dialogue is my forte. Not only that, but when I realized I could fit it into my book about the first year of marriage, I was pretty excited. So, I went back in an added those things that I wasn't allowed to put in before, and voila.
      This story isn't actually about the first year, per se, because the couple in question is engaged, but I think it still fits. It highlights an important theme: Trying to figure out your relationship with your parents and in-laws once you've flown the nest and started your own family. 
     You don't just gain a husband or wife when you marry: You gain an entire family. However, the most important thing is to be committed to your spouse first and foremost. Your relationship must come before all others, no matter what, if you are going to really make things work (though, it does help to have those other relationships in tact!).
     So now, I hope you enjoy the first portion of chapter five, "Commitment."

Chapter Five:
Commitment
      “Well that was fun,” Mom said, climbing into the passenger seat and slamming the door of my black Jeep Patriot behind her.
     I didn’t know what to say. I stared at my hands, knuckles white on the steering wheel.
     “What’s the matter, Parker?” she asked.
     I clenched my teeth. “Are you serious?”
     “There is no need to be rude.”
     “Sorry.” I reached for my seat belt, wishing I had the guts to tell off my mother, knowing that she was the one person on earth who could truly scare me.
     “It’s not as though I had a choice.”
     I rolled my eyes and took off the parking brake. “Didn’t you?”
     “Of course not.”
     “Well thanks,” I said, as I eased the car away from the curb. Sometimes, I really missed my old stick shift. It made me feel better to gun the engine at times like this, which was so much harder to do in an automatic.
      “You are being rude.”
     My face started getting hot. “Like you were rude to Vanessa?”
     Instantly, the car, icy cold from sitting outside on a January night, grew even icier. “Don’t you dare,” she said.
      One of the things Vanessa admired about my personality was that I didn’t let things bother me. I didn’t fight. I just let go. She was wrong though. It very much bothered me that she and my mom couldn’t get along. I couldn’t stand that my mom didn’t respect or trust me enough to make my own decisions, and I hated that I had to hold back what I was really thinking, only because my mom wouldn’t bend, regardless of what I said. That’s why I didn’t usually fight. There really was no point.   
     “And for the record, I was not being rude. I merely commented on the poor-quality of your fiancĂ©e’s cooking.”
     I turned sharply onto Main Street. “First of all, she was trying to impress you. She just tried something a little too complicated. Second–”
     “Impress me? Hmph.”
     I saw her cross her arms over her chest out of the corner of my eye as I turned on to Fifth. 
     “She’s never going to do that, is she?”
     “What?”
     “Impress you.”
     “Oh please.”
     “Come on, Mom. Just admit it. You’ve never liked Vanessa.”
     “I liked her just fine when she was a friend who would help you with your college papers.”
     “She’s more than that now, and you’re just going to have to accept that.”
      “She just isn’t good enough, Parker.”
     I squeezed the steering wheel. “How do you know that, when you haven’t even taken the time to get to know her?”
     “I don’t need to take any time.”
     “Why not?”
     The brakes protested as I slowed for a red light. The engine hummed idly as we waited. My eyes started to sting, but I was in control. I had to stay in control. The light finally turned green, and I eased out into the intersection, my fingers cramping as I clutched the steering wheel. “You’re not being fair,” I said.
     “She is a horrible cook. That’s all I need to know.”

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