[stylist] Short Story: "Smart Decisions?"

Fri Oct 28 01:51:22 UTC 2016

Hi All,
Here is my latest short story.  The title comes from the fact 
that a Smart-Phone is the main focus and is meant to be a bit 
ironic.  Feel free to tear it apart if you want to, haha.
The story is pasted below as well as attached.
Happy reading!
Vejas
Smart Decisions?
by Vejas Vasiliauskas
London, England, 2015-2016
Prologue, 2016
The man sits alone at a picnic table in a park.  He is surrounded 
by trees on one side of his picnic table and ducks on the other, 
but he has no awareness of this, or anything at all for that 
matter.  He is completely zoned out, for no particular reason.  
It is probably just a reaction to all the stress he has had to 
deal with in the past year.  He was supposed to be somewhere 
else, but drove to the park just to have some peace.  He was 
supposed to be...
Supposed to be...
Suddenly his IPhone rings.  The ringtone itself is nice: it's the 
Nokia ringtone he fell in love with and which his son downloaded 
for him.  It's the vibration that jolts him.
"What's up?" he says in an exhausted voice.
"Charles!" It's Helen.  The angry bitch he married, it seems of 
late, he thinks scornfully.
"What did I do this time?"
"I'll tell you what you did! You were supposed to pick up Cameron 
from art club a half hour ago! He tried to call you, but you 
wouldn't pick up!"
Charles groans.
"I've got him, don't worry about that," says Helen.  "But how 
could you do this to your own son?"
Charles doesn't know what to say, how to answer.  "We're all 
human and make mistakes," he mumbles.
"I made salami sandwiches for myself and the kids," Helen informs 
him.  "There may be some ham left for when you get home." Charles 
doesn't like salami, Helen knows it, and he knows that she knows 
it.
"See you," Charles says weakly, then, when he's off the phone, he 
yells, "SHIT!" Nobody can hear hm; if they did, who, in this 
messed-up world, would even give a damn? Probably a mother with a 
three-year-old yelling not to swear in front of her child, or an 
elderly lady screeching at him that the devil is in him, or 
something.
Charles thinks of Helen.  They used to get on very well, they 
did, for 15 years.  Long enough to have a 13-year-old son, 
Cameron, and 11-year-old twin girls, Ruth and Anna.  Even last 
year, Helen would have reacted more calmly; she would have tried 
to reassure him that forgetting to pick up Cameron was no big 
deal.  She would not have fed the kids salami; she would have 
made something, anything, that the whole family could eat.  
Charles knows that it is his fault, it's all his fault.
As he gets up to go back into his beat-up Mustang, Charles takes 
his phone, goes to the duck pond, and does something he has never 
thought he would ever do before in his life: he gently throws the 
phone, which lands into the water with a great splash.
One Year Ago to the Day...
"Sir? Sir!"
The man working at the small sandwich shop is growing impatient.  
He is tired, and his next customer has obviously put on too much 
Nautica cologne, much to his annoyance.  He could try to overlook 
the cologne, but the man-by the name of Charles Culvert-is not 
answering him.  This is not because he is a jerk, but because he 
is glued to his IPhone screen and seems fascinated by whatever is 
on it.  Rolf, the sandwich man, is not sure what to do.  As he 
debates his options, the girl standing behind Charles taps him on 
the shoulder.  She is about 20, Charles probably being at least 
50.
Charles does look up.  "Oh, I'm so sorry," he says, then proceeds 
to order a turkey and Swiss cheese sandwich, jalapenos, and 
mustard.  He has every intention of going back to playing around 
with his new IPhone, which he only received the day before.  
Ordinarily, he would have been one of these that would have just 
stuck to a flip phone, even a pager, but his son Cameron, then 
12, had convinced him that this was the only possible way he 
could keep in contact with his family.  He is trying to figure 
out how to add people into the contacts app.
Somehow, Charles notices the girl behind him.  It must be that 
young actress look, the blond hair, the blue eyes, that makes him 
look away for his new device.  And the way she is ordering...
"I'll have a pulled pork and salami sandwich on tomato bread," 
she says.  "I'll have a slice of cheddar and half a slice of 
pepper jack.  I want three-quarters of it to have olive oil, and 
one quarter to be ranch and more-stard.  Please put more ranch on 
than more-stard."
Charles is amazed.  He is even more amazed when she turns to him.
"Hi, I'm Charles," he says a bit nervously.
"I'm Caroline!" Her voice is sweet and confident.  "Do you need 
help with your IPhone? I am addicted to mine!"
"Yes, please," he says.  "I hate the damn thing."
Caroline helps Charles put Cameron's information into the phone.
"Do you know how contact cards work?" she asks.
"No." He is uncertain but fascinated, and she knows it.
"OK.  I'm going to send you my contact card," she says 
determinedly, putting on an enthusiastic smile.
Charles receives a text from a number not on his phone, but that 
says "Caroline Wilson, contact card."
"What the hell am I supposed to do?" Normally Charles wouldn't 
use this language with someone young enough to be his daughter, 
but he senses Caroline doesn't care.  And he's right: she 
doesn't.  She only laughs.
"Click on the contact card, go to more info, and hit create new 
contact.  Everything's all filled out for you.  Then hit DONE!"
Charles does so.  Now he has 21 contacts, as opposed to 20.
And if it were not for that phone, he would never, ever have to 
see Caroline Wilson again.
When he gets home, Charles texts his work friends, Bow and Mason.  
"Hey man I have an IPhone, what's up?" he writes in both.  The 
replies from Bow and Mason are positive but basic, and yet, 
somehow, Charles loves it.  Now he can understand why his son and 
friends love to text and love social media.  The idea of getting 
an immediate reply from someone makes him feel good, like he is 
validated and cared about.
He texts his wife Helen, "I love my new phone!" He watches the 
"friend is typing" icon.  He loves it! Someone is taking time 
from their day, if only a few minutes, to send HIM a message.  
Helen is currently visiting relatives with the kids.  Charles 
hates the in-laws; there is nothing wrong with them, but they 
annoy him, and so, as an agreement, Helen makes sure that he 
never has to see them but the kids can spend time with their 
grandparents.
 Helen's reply: "Hi honey, I'm glad you like your phone, and 
we're having a great time! You can still have some of the 
mushroom risotto.  We still plan to come back on Sat." (It was 
Thursday).
Finally, Charles texts Caroline.
"Hi Caroline, thank you so much for helping me with my phone," is 
all he writes.  Caroline's reply within 40 seconds: "Hi!! I'm so 
glad your phone is working for you!! What are you up to??"
"Bored as hell," replies Charles.  Thinking about it, Charles 
realizes he really is.  He misses his family and wishes he could 
talk to someone.  Helen and the kids were having too much fun.  
Soon he and Caroline began having a conversation about books.
By the next week, Charles and Caroline are still chatting.  
That's all he wants it to be.  But he's scared to tell Helen 
about it and, when she's out of earshot, asks Cameron how to 
change the passcode.  By the next week, the phone itself is not 
so much an issue as is the topic Caroline has brought up: 
self-harm.  One night at 23.00 in the morning she randomly texts 
him that she hates her life, she cuts and self-harms and nobody 
else gives a damn.  Charles is woken up by the vibration of the 
phone, and so, too, is Helen.
"Who is that?" she says peeppy.
"Mmm," he replies in a half-sleepy state, not really hearing the 
question but somehow sensing it requires a response.  Clicking on 
the text, though, he becomes on high-alert.
"Who is it from?" she asks, seeing the concerned look on his 
face.
"Lizzy." That's the first person Charles can think of to not make 
his wife suspicious.  Lizzy is their adored double niece; the 
child of Charles's brother Solomon and Helen's sister Sarabeth, a 
happy-go-lucky girl of 15 raised in a loving home.
"Is she all right?" Helen asks, concerned.
All Charles can say, still in shock, is "Self-harm."
"Oh, God," Helen says, looking scared.  "I'll ring Sarabeth later 
and talk to her."
"No, no," Charles says defensively.  "Lizzy doesn't want me to 
tell anyone." That part is true in a way; Caroline doesn't want 
anyone to know.
"No, I'll ring her now," Helen decides, jolting herself awake.
Charles knows he is in a mess, but at least his wife is away from 
the room, and he tries to counsel Caroline.  Telling her she is 
beautiful how she is, that if she needed to talk to someone she 
should find a doctor.  Could her parents support her?
Soon afterwards, Helen comes back in, distraught.  "Not only does 
Lizzy self-harm," she says worriedly, "but Sarabeth is already 
very aware of it.  They go to the doctors on Monday."
Charles is shocked.  Not only had he lied, but how could his 
happy nice find life that unbearable? At least she confided in 
her mother about it.  Charles hopes Caroline has that comfort as 
well.
Two Weeks Later
In the past two weeks since Caroline's self-harm crisis, she had 
been texting him daily, explaining her progress.  Today, Charles 
is relieved, because she says she is completely cured, and they 
begin chatting about books again.  Luckily, Lizzy is also 
healing, her self-inflicted injury being an isolated incident 
related to unresolved matters she was getting counselling for.
"Can I see your phone for a minute?" Helen asks.  "I'm trying to 
update Cameron's but it's being extremely slow."
Mid-text, but slightly zoned out, Charles hands it to her without 
thinking.
She gasps.  "CHARLES! Oh God.  How could you! HOW COULD YOU!" And 
she breaks into a sob.
Charles tries to explain.  He tells her about the fact that 
Caroline just helped her with her phone and that he didn't want 
her even for sex, he was just trying to be a good friend and help 
her with her self-harm crisis.
"You didn't even know Lizzy was cutting herself, did you," Hcclen 
says hotly.  "As soon as she did, she told Sarabeth.  She never 
told anyone else."
"Shit," Charles mutters.
Helen will have Charles back, as long as she breaks all contct 
with Caroline.  He doesn't really have a problem with this; after 
all, he was only trying to help her.  Her reaction is 
surprisingly calm and he knows from reading it that she will not 
stock him.
But this is why the atmosphere in the Culvert household has 
changed.
This is also why, on this day in the park, Charles had thrown 
away the device that has caused him problems in the first place.
Relieved that the Sim card could be an entertainment toy for the 
ducks, Charles drives home, awaiting the ham sandwich.
The End
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