Posted: Nov 6, 07 1:20pm
Okay, just to prove I'm more than a smart-ass, this is the first chapter of my novel-in-progress. If you critique this, among your responses I'd like to know the following, please:
1) Are the characters and scene interesting to you? Why or why not?
2) Does this make you want to find out what happens next to Bobby?
3) In your imagination, do you see this scene playing out as you read it?
The novel is set in 1950s Texas during the start of the civil rights struggle.
Thanks!
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CHAPTER ONE
All I remember that day is the feeling of being wrapped in a invisible cotton, except for my feet, which hurt because my new black shoes were too tight.
Pale faces framed in black came and went, people shook my hands, murmured words of sympathy. No one said anything to me afterward, so I guess I responded appropriately, nodded and spoke as I should, the grieving husband.
Late in the day, everyone left except Karen and O'Reilley. She stacked dishes and ashtrays because she's good at that and O'Reilley sat down in the last good chair and unscrewed the top of the last good bottle of Scotch because he's good at that.
He poured us drinks and grabbed Karen's hand as she walked past, her black heels beating a brisk staccato on the newly-bare wood floors.
"Time for all that later, love. Now we drink. A wee toast."
His "Lord of Erin" act was genuine, he'd come over twenty-three years ago as a stowaway with eighty dollars sewn into his pants a fresh knife wound in his arm, and a death sentence if he ever returned.
Karen grabbed her highball glass and raised it to me. She rapped the knuckles of her free hand on O'Reilley's shiny bald head. Thunk-a-thunk. "What's the toast, you horny old shyster?"
"To the dear departed."
I struggled to lift myself out of the wing chair and sat forward, raising my glass.
"I...to her."
O'Reilly raised his glass higher. "She really did take it all with her."
Karen nodded. "May she rot in Hell."
O'Reilley and I clinked glasses. "May she rot in Hell."
The Scotch burned my throat as it slid down. The gasoline fumes pouring up the back of my throat and making me wish I'd never bought this crap for O'Reilley because he always made me drink it.
"What're you going to do now?"
I swirled the Scotch in the glass and watched the flabby sunlight bring out the faint petroleum rainbow on top of the fluid. I started wondering if I had somehow burned out the capacity for feeling, with everything that had happened these last two years with Grace-that-was-not-Grace.
"Aunt Bobbi left me a house in Texas. I'm thinking about going out there, selling it and settling her estate once and for all. It's about time. Should take me a few months, no more."
O'Reilley swigged the last of his drink. "As your attorney, my incredibly expensive advice is for you to get the hell out of this town, as quickly as your pale Protestant ass will take you. I'll be having Annie draw up a letter of credit for you tomorrow, should be enough there to keep you out of the alms house for those few months."
Kate put down her drink and kissed me on the cheek from behind. I could feel her warm cheek against mine and the pressure of her hand on my shoulder, the faint whiff of her perfume, her breast round and warm against the side of my neck.
"I've gotta go, Dave's off shift in ten minutes. You take care of yourself, call me if you need me. Call me even if you don't."
O'Reilley sat up from his sprawl as the front door boomed shut behind her. "I've gotta leave as well, Bobby. Sorry to do this to you. Have you everything you need? Food? Cash? Bad Scotch?"
"I only buy it for you."
"I know, and I love you for it, dear boy. Warms my heart and my then my bladder. Lovely."
I felt something shift inside me, like an earthquake fault slipping an inch. Now the feeling's gone. Damn.
"I'll be all right."
O'Reilley looked at me and suddenly his face was grave. "I wonder about that, lad, I really do, but you've always known how to take the next step, so I'll leave you to it. You'll be fine in awhile, life's just shite right now."
"Thanks."
I showed him to the door and watched him limp down the cracked walkway and into his huge blue Buick and growl away.
I didn't know what else to do so I just picked up all the dishes, flatware, glasses and bottles and threw them away, then took a shower and slept for the last night in that bed.
In the morning I packed everything I wanted, dropped off the keys at the landlord's, and drove to Texas.








