[stylist] Short Story: "Smart Decisions?"

[debby]

Interesting story, Vejas. A couple of typos, and one definite spelling error, toward the end you refer to Caroline stocking Charles, er rather that she would not, but the word is stalking, s t a l k i n g. I think you should submit it somewhere.    Debby

On Oct 27, 2016 6:51 PM, Vejas Vasiliauskas via stylist <stylist at nfbnet.org> wrote:
>
> 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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