the appropriate stages of grief - introduction to a short story

Claire was standing at the kitchen sink. Her silvery white hair hanging loose down her back, her posture the picture of frailty. Her creased hands were gripping the edges of the counter, fingers flat against the sink. The kitchen is dark. The glass windows are open; it’s the season for screens and Claire can hear the crickets and frogs in the night, the occasional crunch of gravel from a car. The scene in the backyard was through silhouettes; trees, the porch swing, the hammock, Noel’s rusted bicycle leaning against a tree, with vines woven through the spokes.

The air that filtered through the screen was cool on her legs beneath the floating fabric of her grey skirt. The hair on the back of her arms stood up, but she did not move to close the window. Claire was thinking about boxes. She was constantly craving cardboard, sturdy corrugated structures, stacked flattened in the backs of grocery and retail stores. She was always approaching sales people inquiring about boxes. Her house was a mess. She needed to keep sifting through the items. She had thrown the majority of Noel and her belongings in boxes that she hadn’t known what to mark. “Garbage?” “Garage sale?” “Kids?” “Amity?” Claire knew what she didn’t want to keep, but past that – after leaping from the third cement step all the way down to the sidewalk, ankles curving to steady the foot, she had landed, brittle bones intact – she didn’t know what to do. Either way, they were things that she didn’t want, so she marked the boxes “unwanted.” Her daughters thought it was harsh, maybe she would agree except that it was true, and she wanted to focus on the truth. Peel back the skin; expose tiny bones, watery blood leaking over flimsy sides.

a shitty play called "instant messaging"

ROZ and SETH are friends in grade eleven. Their conversation takes place through online instant messaging.

On the left side of the stage there is a teenage girl’s bedroom with a power point screen above it which shows her computer desktop. On the right side of the stage there is a teenage boy’s bedroom with the same screen. It should be clear that these bedrooms are not in the same house. As the actors type dialogue to each other, the audience can see each character’s computer screen and can read the instant messaging conversation. The audience can also see the other windows that are open on each of SETH and Roz’s computer screens.

(Roz is listening to music and writing a reading response for English class, Seth is working on an essay for an Ancient History class.)

IM SETH: hey
IM ROZ: hi
IM SETH: what's up
IM ROZ: nothing. you?
IM SETH: just writing my essay for ancient history.
IM ROZ: cool. how'd things go with heather?
IM SETH: alright, i guess. she wants me to go to a movie with her and her friends tomorrow.
IM ROZ: that's nice. i'm glad things are working out.
IM SETH: yeah.

(Roz's brother comes in with a basket of laundry for her, which she thanks him for and dumps on her bed. She begins to fold the clothes but stops when Seth instant messages her.)

IM SETH: so how are things with your dad?
IM ROZ: shitty. there was major drama today about christmas.
IM SETH: oh yeah?
IM ROZ: basically he changed his plans two days before christmas and he expects us to just go along with it and change our own plans to fit his. now instead of jake & maggie going there for christmas dinner he wants them there for christmas morning and christmas eve.
IM SETH: well, then you get to be with them for christmas dinner, that's good right?
IM ROZ: except it's dec 23, we don't have a turkey because me and mom were just going to go to the neighbours for dinner.
IM SETH: oh.
IM ROZ: and it's just the principle of the thing, you can't expect everyone else to rearrange plans for you at the last minute. it's important to me to spend christmas morning with jake & maggie, they're only going to be kids for so long, i'm 16, how many more christmas mornings are going to be the same?
IM SETH: yeah, my dad used to change stuff at the last minute all the time to get me to do what he wanted.
IM ROZ: yeah, and you being a little kid, you'd think that what he wanted would come second.
IM SETH: it never does
IM SETH: it still doesn't.

(Pause. Seth turns on his music, goes to grab a snack from another room and brings it back to eat at his computer. He continues to work on his essay. Simultaneously Roz checks her email and her mom comes in.)

MOM: So your dad refuses to let the kids come here. Apparently it's his turn to have the kids for Christmas morning he says, "it's in the agreement" he just repeats that over and over.
ROZ: Ugh.
MOM: And the thing is, is that he's wrong, in the agreement every other year we switch, then last year you guys were with him for Christmas morning anyway, so it is my turn.
ROZ: But even when you told him that it was important to me to be with the kids for Christmas morning?
MOM: He said that it's important to him too. (Pause.) He also said that you are more than welcome to come to their Christmas morning.
ROZ: Pfft. He is such a moron.
MOM: He just makes me sick, he keeps quoting the agreement, and he gets it wrong, and…he has no thought or concern for my plans or how I feel, let alone your feelings...I mean…why wouldn't a forty-eight year old sacrifice his feelings for his sixteen year old…why doesn't he think of himself as the adult and of you as the child…In reality you are an adult and he behaves like a child, so maybe he is right...ugh...he just - he just makes me sick.

(Silence.)

ROZ: Ugh.
MOM: (Forcibly brightening) But don't worry, we'll sleep in and wake up when Jake + Maggie get here later.
ROZ: Yeah...
MOM: And we'll have a big breakfast like usual, it will just be an hour or two late.

(Pause.) Okay, I need to go find a turkey somewhere! We might be having grilled cheese for Christmas!

(ROZ whimpers.)

Mom: Just kidding! I will buy whatever turkey they have left! We will have turkey for Christmas!

(Mom leaves. Roz stares into space until she gets an IM from Seth.)

IM SETH: i don't even know if i will see my dad this christmas.
IM ROZ: really? why?
IM SETH: he called yesterday and talked to my mom for a bit, then she gave me the phone and he asked me to come to windsor for christmas dinner.
IM ROZ: but that's like, 3 days beforehand!
IM SETH: i know, and my mom is having her side of the family over for christmas dinner at our house, so she needs my help.
IM ROZ: but even if you weren't helping her, you'd still be with her for christmas dinner anyway, right?
IM SETH: yeah. so i told him that i had plans and he got so pissed and told me how important it was for me to come, that it might be my grandma's last christmas. but i told him that i already was going to mom's dinner and i had to help her, and he started crying
IM ROZ: ugh
IM SETH: and i told him again no and he hung up on me
IM ROZ: that is so rude!
IM ROZ: and immature!
IM SETH: yeah, i was not impressed.
IM ROZ: nor would it make you more inclined to make the effort to see him anyway

(Pause. Roz continues to work on her report for English, Seth answers the phone in his room.)

SETH: Hello?...Oh hey, Heather…Good. How are you?...Right now?...Oh, um...well it's getting really late…Oh yeah, well I think 7:30 is pretty late! It's a school night...and I have to, uh…work on this history essay…That's okay, maybe another night…Oh that's good, you worked hard on that project.

IM ROZ: it's kind of cool that we both have loser dads, it's nice to be able to talk to someone who understands.

SETH: (on phone still) Uh-huh…Well, yeah.

IM ROZ: i don't know anyone but you who really gets what it's like, everyone else has a nice dad

SETH: (on the phone still) Of course…Listen Heather, I can't really talk right now, I think my mom needs to use the phone…Oh no, it's okay…I'll see you at school tomorrow…Bye.

IM SETH: yeah i know what you mean. those stupid kids with their awesome dads.
IM ROZ: haha.
IM SETH: well you can talk to me about it anytime.
IM ROZ: I think i'm going to go, i need to finish this response for tomorrow!
IM SETH: oh.
IM SETH: yeah, me too, this essay is killing me.
IM ROZ: i'll see you tomorrow in geography?
IM SETH: yeah, see you.
IM ROZ: bye!
IM SETH: have a good night.

{my professor questioned the sense of purpose. i know it's not that great, but it's my first play...}

hospital walks

i’m not here to be fixed up by a doctor or nurse,
i just need to look at some sick broken patients,
death, dying, disease and conditions diverse,
last wishes and surgeries with complications

i just need to look at some sick broken patients
so i can learn to control my breathing and reactions
to last wishes and surgeries with complications,
to bloody wounds, gaping gashes and hairline fractures.

i need to learn to control my breathing and reactions:
like a shaking heart, clammy hands, instant sweating
when i see bloody wounds, gaping gashes, hairline fractures
or bones stuck out at strange angles that need setting.

my shaking heart, clammy hands, instant sweating;
i go on hospitals walks to battle my anxiety
about bones stuck out at strange angles that need setting
and unforgiving blood conditions of every variety.

i go on hospitals walks to battle my anxiety
over death, dying, disease, conditions diverse
and unforgiving blood conditions of every variety.
but i’m not here to be fixed up by a doctor or nurse.

social triumph

dancing on hardwood with drinks in hand,
over cheekbones a flush has crept,
arms flung over another so you can stand;
a social decorum in which all are adept.
when nagging doubt pokes at my eyes
another booze-infused communion
gives doubt no chance to survive:
instead a confidence and charisma union.
no clique distinctions or social clarity
just shared infectious enthusiasm,
heads thrown back in amplified hilarity
the laughter arriving in shared spasms.

come here often? a quick fix, relax, release?
doesn't last, but an effective escape - however brief.

wifebeater

if you permit it
you promote it
if you don’t condemn it
you condone it
so if you say it
you should mean it.

if the girls laugh
it’s okay
jokes are dumb, they’re
not serious anyway
and when you laugh
at hate and violence
it’s not making it okay.

bitch – lighten up, don’t
take offense
it’s not like women are
really victims of violence
we can laugh about it
and it doesn’t mean shit
because jokes are stupid
and no one means it.

triumph

anxiety fluctuates
with the occurance of special occasions
with the reoccuring frustrations
that come with affection
she felt it was a lost cause
she felt it was a curse
until she walked into a room
and beneath her elasticine waistband
there was direction
someone showed her
someone told her
what to do
someone who knew
and by slowly stretching her limits
by slowly expanding within it
she's laughing and she is thinking
this is more like it
and roses unfold in her hands,
suddenly she understands
why everybody's doing it
when roses unfold in her hands

green pool at night

she is standing on the edge of the pool, her skin illuminated ivory from the lights on the back of the house. shadows trace dark shapes behind her neck and knees and elbows. from the house the water looks still and calm. there is no wind, no waves, no natural movement tonight. but to her the water is hovering and shifting below her, a transparent green moving mass. it would make her visible, draw attention to her uncertain decisions, send out splashing soundwaves to the world. poised over it, she remains unseen, she can walk away bone dry invisible. there are so many reasons not to get wet; her hair will stick together tomorrow, her bandaid will slip off her skin and get stuck in the filter, her eyes will sting and form tiny white light halos around the lights when she gets out. she stands outside for too long and the lights on the house disappear. it's windy now so she goes inside.