An Incidental Perspective and a scene

There’s a blessing and a curse to resuscitating a manuscript I started writing in 1997.  I have a lot of scenes already written, a framework that more or less still works… and I’m living in the house that inspired it all 15 years ago.  I am actually quite impressed with some of the writing from my early-ish twenties… and the other spurt of inspiration that came in 2002.  Some of it… man, until I edited An Ever Fixed Mark, I was completely unaware of my rather bad habit of passive voice… and these earlier scenes are loaded with it.  The 2002 version, though, was written just after I moved back from London and was entrenched in the film world.  Some of those scenes are very vivid… and in my mind... cinematic.

But all in all, I think the third time is the charm.  I have more perspective now to complete this story.  And wouldn’t you know it?  Life has thrown me a couple art imitations in this last year that allow me to inform the characters with some honest emotion and thought process.

And then there is just the way the world has changed.  This is almost incidental to the story itself… but the very fact it is almost incidental is what makes it so very cool.  In this version, I decided to make one of the main characters a lesbian.  The fact I can write scenes about her wanting to get married would have been very different had I written them ten years ago.   That really doesn’t give away anything to this very layered, convoluted story… but it is something that made me smile on one of my very long car rides when thinking about how this book has grown in a decade and a half.

Anyway, chew on that if you will… or won’t.  But here’s another random, out of sequence scene from that 2002 version.  It's still a rough cut.  I did my best to delete the passive voice… but I definitely like the movie scene feel to it.

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Agnes removed a sheet from the oven and carefully separated the cabbage turnovers with a spatula.  She put them onto a platter for Ginny.  Beatrice came down the steps and sat in the chair next to Evie, who was quietly coloring a picture.

“I don’t think Helen has aged a day since her wedding,” Beatrice sighed.

“Is she dressed?” Mavis took  the empty sheet from Agnes to the sink.

“Ready for her grand entrance,” Beatrice accepted a glass of water from Agnes.  “’Course I wasn’t much help to her.  Living out here so long, I’ve lost touch with fashionable make-up and hair styles.”

“Can I go see Mummy?” Evie put down her crayon.

“She said she would be down here in a minute,” Beatrice sipped her water.

Evie pouted and went back to her picture.  Peter and Andy clumped down the steps into the kitchen going immediately to Ginny’s platter.

“Oh no you don’t,” Mavis said firmly.  “You had your dinner a half hour ago!”

“I’m a growing boy,” Andy hovered a hand over the tray.

“Mummy!” Evie shouted as Helen entered the kitchen.  Agnes looked up at her.  Beatrice was right.  Helen looked like she was still twenty-five, in a long black gown that hugged her hourglass figure and hair hanging in big, loose curls over her bare shoulders.

Helen knelt to hug Evie.  “Well?” she looked at Andy.

“No one’s wearing your dress, Mum.”

“What is Mrs. Hilden wearing?”

“Something purple and puffy.”

“You look pretty, Mummy,” Evie grabbed her mother’s fingers.  “Can I come to the party?”

“You and Andy can make an appearance at seven,” Helen eased out of Evie’s clutch and straightened her posture.  “Just for an hour.  Then bedtime.”

“Can Peter and I go back to the sta…”

“No more spying – or any of your usual mischief,” Helen smoothed out her gown over her hips.  “This is very important for your father.  You know that, Andrew.”

“Yes, Mom,” Andy cast his eyes down as he nodded.

“Seven o’clock,” Helen looked at her children before going back up the stairs.

Agnes turned back to the stove, pushing Helen’s avoidance of her out of her mind.

Ginny came back with the empty platter just as the next sheet came from the oven.  Agnes relished the serendipity of timing just as the skillet on the stove started to burn.  She salvaged the bacon and stopped the smell of smoke from escaping the kitchen.  She hardly noticed the time pass or the comings and goings of the children as she found herself completing one thing only to busy her hands and concentration with the next.  Mavis was wonderfully helpful, restraining from her usual comments and suggestions.  Beatrice remained stationed at the sink, washing the continually growing pile of dishes.

Agnes felt the frenzy slow down and took a moment to arrange a pretty garnish on Ginny’s next platter.  Ginny came through the door followed by Andy and Peter.

“…had a terrible row about this party, about the whole summer, really.  Mom said she didn’t want these people in her house –“ 

“Andrew Bradshaw Jr.!” Beatrice stiffened her voice.  “You know better than to gossip about your parents.”

“Aw, I was just telling Peter why Dad…”

“Your father is a congressman.  His business doesn’t need to be spread all over this house.”

“Yes m’am.”

“You and Peter have a half hour before bed.  Why don’t you go listen to the radio in the sitting room?  I must be getting old,” Beatrice laughed when they left the room.  “I just scolded that boy for being a gossip.  Of course, I can’t deny my curiosity.  Sounds like there is trouble in paradise.”

Mavis bit her lip, meeting Beatrice’s eyes.  She turned around and went back to buttering the pastries.  Agnes looked at Beatrice, wondering if she would say more.  Agnes couldn’t help but feel a twinge of gladness knowing that Helen was angry with her husband.

Beatrice brought Evie back to the kitchen before beckoning the boys from the sitting room.  She brought them all upstairs to bed.  Mavis and Ginny helped Agnes with the rest of the cleaning.  Mavis went up to make sure all the beds were ready for the guests.  Then Ginny left to go out with Sam.

At long last it was quiet again.  The dull hum of the crowd in the living room slowly dissipated.  The music was turned off.  The chaos of the kitchen had gone down the drain with the soapsuds that washed away the remnants of Agnes’ work.  There were a few plates of leftovers in the refrigerator.  It seemed a small result to all the work of the evening.  Agnes could not believe it was all ended.

She went upstairs to bed.  She checked the hallway of bedrooms to see if any guest was wandering in search of something.  After changing and washing up, she went back down the stairs to shut off the light.  The back door was open.  A smell of cigarette smoke came through the screen.

The smell didn’t startle Agnes.  Many of the party guests smoked throughout the evening.  The clouds of tobacco came into the kitchen every time the door opened.  But Agnes could also smell lilies of the valley, a combination of scents that reminded her of sitting on the terrace in Helen’s lap. 

Helen came through the door to see who was there.  She leaned against the doorframe, leaving her shoe in the door to dump the ashes outside.  She looked like a scene in one of Ginny’s favorite movies.

“Helen… I didn’t know you were still up,” Agnes broke the awkward quiet of her discovery.  “Did you need something?”

“No,” Helen slowly turned her head to look outside.  “Did Beatrice stay?”

“Yes.”

“Good.  I imagine Peter is in Andy’s room, then.”

“Yes.”

“The Wainwright family is coming tomorrow.  Gertrude had a doctor’s appointment this morning and was afraid she wouldn’t be well enough for the party.  Or at least that is the excuse she made to be the latecomer,” Helen took another drag from her cigarette.  “They have two little girls.  They can stay in Evie’s room.  Do you have the extra bed made up?”

“Yes – and the spare cot from upstairs.”

“Good.  Oh, here’s the list of breakfast requests.”  She pulled a piece of paper from the front of her dress.

“Oh,” Agnes wanted Helen to say something about the food.

“That’s all,” Helen looked back outside.  “You must be tired.  You should get some rest.”

“Here you are,” Andrew came through the door from the living room.  “It went well?”

Helen sucked on her cigarette.  “Everyone went to bed happy.”

“They did,” he went closer to his wife.

Helen offered him her cigarette.  He breathed out the smoke and saw Agnes.  “Agnes, you did an excellent job.  Mavis and Bea, too.  I am truly grateful.”

Agnes nodded, feeling Helen’s eyes look at her.  She wished Helen would say something like that.  Instead, she took back her cigarette.  “Will you be going to bed happy?” Andrew moved her hair behind her ear.  Helen looked up as she finished the cigarette.   “It was a good party, wasn’t it?” Andrew spoke into her exhale.

“Except for Dottie Meyer throwing herself at my husband.”

 “Me and every other man in the room,” Andrew laughed.   “That isn’t fair, Helen.  Not when you’ve been wearing this dress all night.”

Agnes saw him slip his hand around her waist, fingering the zipper under her arm.  Helen moved in to kiss him.  It was as though Agnes wasn’t there at all.  She immediately felt embarrassed and awkward.  She moved quietly back to the stairs and went up to her room.