[stylist] new submission, untitled

[Bernadetta Pracon]

Hi everyone,
Here's another piece I thought I'd share with you. It's not meant to be 
funny, in a sadistic manner or otherwise; It's actually the opposite. I 
wrote this as an excersise for my fiction writing class several years 
ago. I believe it was an excersise that was conserned with the use of 
dialogue. While I'm not sure I remember the exact nature of the 
excersise prompt, I kept this because I thought I could revise and 
expand it one day. I think this could use a lot of work, but it has 
some potential.  I'm interested to see what you all think of it.
Enjoy
        The toddler squirmed in her highchair as her parents sat across 
from each other   at a table in the small cafe. The quaint locale was 
nearly empty, though it was only four o'clock in the afternoon. The 
slender waitress, Grace, set down a Sippy Cup in front of the child, 
trying her best not to intrude on the couple. The toddler's parents 
were engaged in an intense conversation; Their child's chair was cast 
off to one side of their table, and they weren't paying her the 
slightest bit of attention.
        "So what the hell are you saying, Jeane,"  Allan said to his wife.
        Jeane shrunk back  at  his icy tone. She flashed him a 
tentative smile, but just as soon, she regained her composure. Ffolding 
her arms on the table, She restored her reserved demeanor.
        "I made a mistake, Allan," She said. "I was not cut out for 
this. Look at me! I can't be a mother. I don't want this--this burden. 
The two of you... Allan, I just feel so constricted."
        She fidgeted with her pink blouse, eager to avoid his stair.
        "Well way to go, Princess," Allan snarled. "Great of you to   
let me know."
        "Sorry, Allan," She replied.
        Yet again, she lost her nerve. When she looked up at him, he 
could see the slightest hint of a tear in the corner of her eye. Just 
then,  the little girl, still moving around in her highchair, pushed 
the sippy cup over the edge of her small table. They both looked her 
way at the clatter of the cup, but neither moved to the child's aid. 
The waitress hurried over to take care of the spill when she realized 
that neither parent would be inclined to do so. Finally, Jeane just 
looked away with disinterest, while Allan, not knowing what else to do, 
lifted his daughter from the highchair. He settled back down with the 
girl in his lap.
        "Nice of you to realize this shit just now, Jeane," He said.  
Two fucking years too late, dont you think?"
        "Dont swear in front of her," she retorted.
        "I wouldn't be talking, Jeane. Looks like you're not exactly 
model mom material," Allan said.
        By this time, the child sensed the tention, and began to fuss. 
Allan tried to distract her by pointing out the pretty wall mural of a 
waterfall behind them, but to no avail.
        "Why the hell bring me here to tell me this, though," he asked. 
"You couldn't tell me this shit at home? And, again, what the hell does 
this mean?"
        Jeane got up abruptly. She set her unfinished cup of coffee 
back on the table and began to fix her long, blonde hair. Her husband 
noticed that she was overdressed. She was wearing a black pair of dress 
pants and matching stilettos (although the pink blouse looked a little 
out of place); It wasn't something a person would normally wear on a 
casual outing to a coffee shop.
        "I'm leaving, Allan," she said, matter of factly.
        "That I can see," he said, unamused.
        "I am going to be a dancer. I accepted a job in Miami. My Plane 
is leaving tonight. I'll take a cab to the airport after I drop the car 
off at my sister's. I need to go now, Allan."
        "Like hell you are," Allan said. "Dancer my ass. What sort of 
nonsense is this."
                She glared at him as she stood at the cafe's exit. With 
her hands now defiantly propped on her hips, she dared him to stop her.
        "It's my lifelong dream, Allan. That's what it is. My sister 
will help me with everything. I don't want  anything from you anymore. 
Keep the house, keep the money,oh, and definitely keep the kid. Please."
        Shocked,he stood up,his daughter sliding off of his lap. He  
strode over to the door as Jeane walked out. The child tried to keep up 
with her dad as he followed his wife, but her little legs couldnt carry 
her fast enough. The watchful waitress realized that in addition to    
forgetting all about their child,  they also left without paying for 
their order. She grasped the little girl's hand and quickly caught up 
with Allan.
        "Sir! Sir, your little girl," she exclaimed.
        The child was crying by now; She seemed scared and confused. 
The father turned to face the waitress and his daughter. He grabbed her 
other hand and drew her twoard him.
        "And also, sir, you didn't cover your bill," the waitress said.
        He whipped  out a twenty dollar bill and shoved it into her 
palm. She offered to bring him back his change, but he told her not to 
bother. He turned tward the parking lot, where his wife stood by her 
car. They had come in separate cars; She had told him to meet her there 
right after work. He walked with his daughter over to his own car, 
which was parked adjacent to hers.
        "So you think you're just gonna leave? Just like that," he asked.
        "I know I am. I don't just think it."
        She looked unperturbed. She showed no emotion, even when her 
daughter ripped herself from her father's grasp and ran to her.
        "I go with mommy," the child announced.
        She had stopped crying, and a smile lit up her innocent, little 
face. She reached up to her mother, hoping to be scooped up in her 
arms. Agitated, Jeane took a few steps away from the child instead.
        "Take her, Allan," she said. "I really need to get going."
        The childbegan to cry again. She threw her arms around her 
mother's knees and held on with all her might. Allan stood rooted to 
the spot, shocked at the scene unfolding before him.
        "M''ommy," the little girl said. "Mommy no go!"
        She was wailing now. Through blurry eyes, she looked up at her 
mother, pleading with her.
        "Erin,go to daddy," Jeane said to the child. "I gotta go."
        Little Erin did not give up her plea. Her small body was 
covered in sweat as it heaved with her sobs.
        "Dammit, Jeane, look what you're doing to our kid! You've lost 
your fucking mind! Look at her. Thinkabout this for a second... God," 
Allan said, still  rooted to the spot where he stood.
        "Allan," Jeane said. "Get this little brat off of me right now. 
I'm warning you! There is no way I am missing my flight."
        The child continued to cling to her mother, though she 
struggled to do so. Annoyed and unsympathetic, Jeane took a few quick 
steps back,and succeeded to disengage herself from the  girl's grip. 
Little Erin lost her balance and fell forward. She let out a painful 
scream as her head hit the  pavement. She lay there, face down, as her 
mother calmly got into her car. She did not bother glancing back.  With 
screeching tires, she sped away.
        "Fucking bitch," Allan yelled after her.
        He hurried over to his daughter and picked her up. She was 
crying harder still. Her lip was bleeding, and her face was covered in 
dirt. She had a scrape on her chin, and what was sure to become a nasty 
bruise on her forehead. Taking care to be gentle, he brushed a bit of 
dirt from her cheek.
        "Mommy no go," she kept repeating between sobs.
        "Shhh, baby," he said softly. "Its gonna be all right. We're 
gonna be just fine."
        He enveloped his little girl  tightly against his chest, and 
kissing the top of her now sweaty head,  he carryed her to his car.


sincerely,

Bernadetta P

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