Thursday, 25 June 2009

A perfect Memory.

This is some creative writing I never had the drive to finish. I wrote a few chapters, but I guess I liked the idea of it more than anything. I was so ready, with my storyline and all the events and characters all written down, but looking at the long list drained me out, how was I going to write about all of that? I'll try my best to continue writing little passages for this, because I want the main character to have an amazing, eventful life. But that can't happen if I dont give her one.



Eva opens her eyes to a new day; she acknowledges me sitting on the edge of the bed and reaches out for my hand. I extend my arm so she can reach, and she grips on it softly. I ask her if today is going to be the same as yesterday, a stupid question, really.
“Every detail of today will be different from yesterday: The way the clouds cross the sky, the direction in which you will pour your juice, even the number of water droplets falling out of my tap. You should know that by now.”
Of course, I nod my head, rolling my eyes. I’ve heard things similar to this all my life. I ask her if she wants to get up now, but she shakes her head.
“I have to think of my grandchildren’s smiles so I can lift myself out of bed” she explains. After a few minutes she sits up, and manages to stand. She walks across to the bathroom, and I start to make the bed.
Eva gets out of the bathroom and sits at her dressing table, she examines her wrinkled face and pets her white hair, and she catches me watching,
“That's how you know how much someone lived, you know? Wrinkles like these are marks of times sadness has made you frown or furrow your brow, and times happiness has made you laugh out loud. Trust me, you will know how much someone has lived by the depth of their creases.”
She pulls out a thick diamond necklace from her drawer, smiling as she touches the sparkling rocks. She opens her wardrobe and searches through her clothes, she finally pulls out a scarlet ball gown, I start laughing, she has been wearing gowns everyday this week. She winks at me,
“The world tells me I have nothing to live for at 72-”
“-You’re 77,” I remind her,
“Shh! somebody might hear you! Anyway, let me tell you, missy, I have no shame wearing my finest dresses and jewels when I have no plans of leaving my house, and I love it that way! Today we will lounge around, eat chocolates from a fancy box and listen to some fine music, not the crap they play on the radio, and maybe we’ll watch one of your fathers movies!” she says excitedly.
I help her cross the house, so we can go eat breakfast in the kitchen before relax in the living room then feed the birds, a regime we’ve been following for the week I’ve been here. She lets go of her tight hold on my forearm and climbs onto her kitchen stools. I pull out the silver bowls she’s had since her mother passed away and set them on the table, adjacent to her crystal cups, just the way she likes it. I’ve never been much of a cook so I throw in random spices along with the eggs in a pan, and hope it turns out good. Eva hides a smirk when I shuffle them onto her plate.
“I saw that. And eat it, eggs are full of protein”
“Like I need protein,” she doesn’t finish her sentence, but we both know what she was going to say. I hand over her medication, a dozen little pills that are meant to sustain her life. We look outside the big window, both calmly watching the gray sea and it’s cold mist as we chew on (perfectly tasty) eggs and sip on orange juice. The gardener interrupts our serene morning by starting his lawn mower, so I get up to clean the plates. Eva turns to face my back at the sink,
“Why now?” she asks, “Why do you only choose to visit me now?”
“Because you asked me to” I remind her, she sighs.
“I know, but why should I have to ask you? Why can’t you just pop by and surprise me?”
“Because I work and I have to organize a date if I want to get time off, and I did visit! Christmas, Easter, your birthday, I did!” I argue,
“Fine,” she sighs, I start to feel slightly bad.
I turn off the tap and dry my hands, then walk over to her. I extend my arms slightly then retract them again, unsure of my next action. She gives me a strange look, as if we’re playing charades and she has no idea what I’m trying to do. I lean over and hug her; she hugs me back, breathing into my hair.

We sit on her fat armchairs, which smell of powder and expensive perfume, Eva has a box of “expensive” chocolate on her lap and I lean over to pick one, but she slaps my hand away,
“Get your own,” she moans.
I give her my death stare and she rolls her eyes,
“Fine, but let it melt in your mouth, don’t chew, so it will last longer and I’ll have more for myself,” She laughs, offering me the box.
I look at her, happy as can be in her diamonds and scarlet dress, eating fine chocolate with her feet propped up.
“Can we look through some old photo albums?” I ask.
She smiles and says her signature line, ‘I don’t need photographs to remember the past’. I look at her pleadingly. She finally nods and points to the bookshelf, I pull them out and sit on the floor beside her chair. Propping the album on my knees, I motion to flip the cover open. It’s something I’ve done many times before, but for some reason, this time feels different. This time, I’m nervous.
We look at the black and white photos of Eva when she was barely six years old.
“I remember that day! My hair was in curlers for hours,” she explained.
I’ve always been jealous of Eva’s unreal memory, unfaltering even at the age of 77.
“Tell me your life story?” I ask. She looks at me, unsure if I was joking or not.
“72 years worth of stories, are you sure?” She asks,
“Yes. Please. I never got a chance to know everything about you when I was growing up. And while I’m here, I want to know. Please.” I beg.
Eva looks deep into my eyes and finally realizes that I’m serious, she draws a deep breath and nods.

2 comments:

raphaeldumonte said...

I am reminded about that site where his father has alzheimers and his mother died early, and he had to make up stories about his mom etc.

Yours is really well done. :) Very nice.

Lienne said...

Enjoyed it very much, stories like this always melts my heart just a little. :)