Today I wrote a short story to share. Writing is a process where revision is essential. I was able to complete a draft and even revise it somewhat, but the story needs time more than anything. It needs to be left alone to percolate so when I return I can see more clearly what it needs or doesn’t need. It is a story of a young uneducated widow who receives some much needed money. What will she do with the money having never made decisions for herself or been around people who have made good decisions? She is left with a 400 car payment yet lives in an apartment. She has a 1000 department store credit card because she decorated her baby’s room in everything Tinkerbelle. She has a part time job at a dollar store and dreams of a weekend at the beach with her chain smoking husband who drinks too much. So how does she react to sudden “wealth?” Below is from the first draft:
The first social security check arrived a week before Thanksgiving. Her hands trembled as she studied the check for $1014.00. It was the most money she had ever possessed or even seen. Her short marriage to Dwayne had given her a daughter, a photo album, and now a monthly paycheck. Her thoughts momentarily went to Dwayne’s wake when his drunk mother refused to get out of the car or turn down the radio that blared Three Dog Night. When Stephanie looked at the lifeless body of her husband, she felt more afraid than anything. The fall from the scaffolding had severed his head, but through the miracles of modern funeral services and a cleverly placed turtle neck, his head was perfectly in place. She was terrified that he would leap out of the coffin and grab her. Besides her great aunt who had a heart attack while picking scuppernongs, she had never seen a dead body. When she found her crumbled next to an overturned bucket of scuppernongs she wasn’t afraid then. She thought the old lady looked silly with her cotton dress blowing over her head revealing a rather large pair of white cotton panties. Unaware that life had left her 87 year old aunt, Stephanie thought the woman was taking a nap in the most peculiar place.
Dwayne’s coffin had been decorated with his beloved Crimson Tide football; a hugger with an unopened Miller LIte, a pack of Doral’s and a picture of Stephanie the day Destiny had been born. When they lowered the casket into the earth the next day, for a brief moment Stephanie thought that he would need a lighter. It seemed as if Dwayne spent most of his time looking for lighters even though he smoked a cigarette at least every half hour. He was one of the expert smokers that could dangle a cigarette from his lips even if he was stooped over changing a tire or giving Destiny a bottle. However, he seemed to never have a lighter. So it was natural for her to worry that he would spend all of eternity with a whole pack of Doral’s and no lighter.
Destiny was only 18 months old when her daddy died. Stephanie who never knew her own father didn’t think this was as tragic as others insisted it was. The real tragedy Stephanie thought was that she had to pay rent, child care, and a car payment and buy groceries all by herself now. Her part time job at Family Dollar would barely cover her $400 car payment. She figured she could let Dwayne’s truck get repossessed. ..
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