This short story was the product of Genre Studies: Fiction. In this class, we studied the techniques and craft of fiction writing, eventually implementing this knowledge into our own work. This piece was second second story I wrote for the class. Unlike my first story and usual style of fiction, Late for Dinner attempts to emulate high Modernism. It relies on stream of consciousness narration and a slightly disjointed plot, interrupted by an overarching dialogue. This class provided an avenue for my creative interests while simultaneously developing my abilities.

 

 

Late for Dinner

The park. I miss the park. Warm.

No.

No.

Not here. Cold. This room is cold. I don’t want to be here. Can I go to the park? Susie. She will bring me to the park. Little hill. And the blankets on the top. I like sitting on the blankets. We look at pictures. That’s what Susie and I do. Warm. Orange. Sun. Pictures.

Tuesdays are nice. Not rainy Tuesdays. No. We can’t go to the park if it rains on Tuesday. Fish are meant for water. That’s what Mr. Charleston told me. Fish are meant for water not people. That’s what he told me.

Cold.

No. I don’t like this room. The light is too bright. It hurts my eyes. Too much Brad. Ouch. The metal chair. No. Mr. Charleston did not give us metal chairs. We had cushions. Soft. Pink Cushions. I like to bounce on the cushions. Up. And no, no I don’t want to go down. No not the basement. The basement is bad. Cold. Metal. Concrete. I don’t want to go down there. I want to go to the park. I want to go with Mr. Charleston and Susie. Not Brad. Where are the windows here?

No windows. It’s a rainy day. Maybe that’s why I can’t go to the park.

“Mr. Laven, do you know why you’re here?”

No. I don’t want to talk to Brad. He has a funny nose. It’s bigger than my nose. I like my nose. Yes, I have a good nose. Susie said I am handsome. And she likes my nose. Bless you. Susie has allergies. She has to take medicine before we go to the park. If not, she just sneezes and her nose gets rosy. Flowers. Rosy flowers.

“Mr. Laven, can you talk to us?”

“Yes. I don’t know why I am here. I want to go to the Park. Susie will take me.”

“Mr. Laven, do you know what you did?”

“I want to go to the park.”

“We know you do. Let’s talk about what happened.”

She hurt me. Susie hurt me bad. Is that what they want to know? Why does Brad care? He doesn’t know Susie. Dark hair. Brad’s partner is mean. He is not a policeman. He does not look like one. He doesn’t have a badge or a uniform. He is in a black suit. He’s a mobster. I saw him in a movie once. He ate pasta and then hurt people. Mr. Charleston said to turn it off.      Cigarettes. Only a couple of draws. And a drink. The room was damp. Basement. Used to sleep. No. No. No. Stop. No move out. Bad. Basement. No. It will come. It was warm. Drip. Very warm on my hands. I’m glad the light was in the room with the detectives. It was warm on my face. Cozy. Orange.

“Mr. Laven…”

“No. I am a good person. No. Not a bad person. She hurt me. She hurt me really bad. But I forgive Susie. It is ok. I don’t want to be here anymore. Can I go home? Mr. Charleston…”

“Mr. Laven, we need to know what happened. What did Susie do? What did you do?”

“Mr. Charleston said not to be late for dinner. Dinner is at 6:00 sharp. Sharp he said. Can’t let the food get cold. No. That’s what he said. Don’t want cold food.”

“Mr. Laven, can you please describe what happened? Were you at Ms. Reynold’s house the night of October 2nd?”

Brad is standing. Always over me. He has a badge and gun. Guns. Basement. Pain. Darkness was down there too. I hated the basement. I liked my blanket though. Every child needs a blanket to keep from the damp basement. I would sleep under the blanket in the basement. That’s when dad said I was in trouble. I was bad. No. I’m not bad. I’m a good person. I didn’t like the basement, but I liked my blanket. It was gold with Winnie-the-Pooh on the front. He was walking with Tigger. I would walk with them sometimes. We would go through the forest and swim in the creek. Sun. Warmth. I need. Everything was cold, but not my blanket.

“I was at Susie’s house. I told you I was at her house.” Why don’t they listen to me? I tell them she hurt me. She didn’t need to hurt me. I wanted to be her husband. I loved Susie. She was my friend. I remember when Susie found me. Mr. Charleston introduced me to her. She was pretty. And nice. She was like Mr. Charleston. He had a funny beard. He would make funny faces. He was my good friend.

I remember when Mr. Charleston brought me from the basement. There was lots of noise that night. I remember yelling. Cold. Dark. I huddled with my blanket. Drip. Water from the ceiling. Dirty. I was on the cushion. I had a pink cushion. They would give me a blanket when I was better. It smelled funny. I sat there listening to the yelling and noise. I covered my ears. It scared me. The darkness. Noise. Monsters. Hurt. Wet. I huddled with my blanket.        Warm.

Light.

The door opened. And police officers walked in with guns. And Mr. Charleston was with them. He came down to me. He picked me off the cushion. I remember his voice soft. He smiled. He said it was going to be ok now. He asked if I was ok. The police officers looked at me. They searched the basement. He had warm arms. Mr. Charleston. He carried me up the stairs. I was crying. Crying. Crying. He carried me away from the basement. Far away. I didn’t see it again. I never want to see it again never. Never. Never. No. I hate the basement.

But I still see it at night. When I close my eyes, sometimes I see it. I’m there and its dark. The door opens. It’s not Mr. Charleston. It’s dad. He throws things at me. Bottles. Trash. He yells, and I look for my blanket and its gone. And I’m alone. And he comes up and hits me. I wake up. Sweat. And shaking. Shaking. It makes me cry. But Mr. Charleston comes and talks with me. Gentle. He makes me feel better. Soft beard.

I stay at the big family home with Mr. Charleston. There are lots of nice people there. There are old people and little people. I do not know them all. Some don’t talk. The house it big. It has a red fence and white steps. They let me draw with chalk. I draw lots of thing. Animals. Cars. Mr. Charleston says I am an artist. I like the way the chalk feels. Pasty. Messy. On my pants. Rub. Nice colors. Soft and warm.

My room is upstairs. Creaky wood stairs. There is no basement there. No. No basement with little pink mattresses. Clean. I have a clean bed. At first I had spaceship sheets, but then they gave me white sheets. I asked Mr. Charleston why. He said I was a getting older. Man. Mature. I don’t know. I miss my spaceship sheets. I liked flying with them. Next to my bed, my books. I like to stack them. No book alone. Always in stacks. Very nice stacks. The other people in the big family home sometimes knock my books over. No. All over floor. Pages bent. No. In order. I put them back in the stack.

Outside of the big family home is grass. And a white fence. Bugs. Balls. I don’t like the balls. Other people want to take them. I don’t like that. I watch. Clouds. Grass. People. I watch ants. The army of ants crawl on the wooden porch. One time, I followed them to their home. It was a small mound of dirt. Funny. The ants crawl in and out of their home. Funny ants. They crawl on my legs and tickle me. Funny ants. Mr. Charleston told me ants work hard. They need to have food for their ant hill. Hill. That’s what he called it. The ants are busy. They need food for baby ants. Lots of ant things to do. Every day I sat and watched the ants. Until they left. Gone. The hill was gone. The rain. Bad rain. It destroyed the ant’s home. It made me sad. No more ants. They must have sailed on the rain. Do they have little boats?

“Mr. Laven, what were you doing at Ms. Reynold’s house?”

It is Brad’s partner. His hair is black. And dark. I saw an old picture of Mr. Charleston one time and he had black hair. Like water. Night black water. I don’t like Brad’s partner. He looks like a bad person. He is a bad person. He would hurt me. I can tell. His arms are big. He stands away from me. No. No. I don’t want to talk.

Brad’s partner leans back. “Let’s start over. How did you know Susie?”

“She came when Mr. Charleston left.”

“When Mr. Charleston died?”

“No. When he left. Mr. Charleston isn’t dead. He is gone. That’s when Susie came.” I remember when Mr. Charleston left. I was in the big family home. Collapse. He dropped the papers. Floor. He shook. I tried to talk to him. He didn’t say anything. Shake. Moan. He said stuff. It was mumbled and jumbled. I tried to speak louder, but he didn’t hear me. The other people started crying. Police. Red lights. Flashing. I don’t like the loud noise. I went under my bed covers. The noise hurt my ears. Whoop. Whoop. Schreech. No. Bad noise. That noise took Mr. Charleston away. He has been gone a long time. I visited him once. It was in a big white hospital. He was asleep. I said I would come visit later. That week, people who worked with Mr. Charleston said he died.

The big family people went to the funeral. They said Mr. Charleston died. He was in a box. I know he isn’t dead. He is just resting. Mr. Charleston would not die and leave me. No. Mr. Charleston loves me. He told me. He would tell us at dinner. Meatloaf. Hamburgers. I ate every day. I liked the food. Sometimes, for birthdays, we would drink soda. It was fizzy in my mouth. I liked the grape one. Don’t be late to dinner. That’s what Mr. Charleston would say. 6:00 sharp. Yes. That’s what he would say.

I watched the box go into the ground. I asked how Mr. Charleston would get out. The rain pattered on the ground. Pat. Splunk. Slash. They told me Mr. Charleston died and was not coming out of the ground. No. I told them no. No. No. He is only sleeping. Mr. Charleston wouldn’t leave me. They made me mad. He isn’t dead. He is just resting in the box. I will help him get out soon. Maybe when I have a bad dream. Maybe Susie will get a box too. She was resting when I left. She came when Mr. Charleston left. I saw Susie every day. She is so nice. And warm. And nice. Susie spent time with all the people in the big family home. Everybody had a day. Mine was Tuesday afternoon. That is two days after Brian’s day and one day before Maggie’s day.

She took me to the park.

“Mr. Laven, how long did you know Susie.”

“I don’t know.” I am getting angry with Brad. He keeps asking silly questions. “Susie was my friend. I told you this. I told you she was my friend and she came when Mr. Charleston went to sleep.” The table. Metallic. Cold. Cold. I want to go to my bed. My blanket. Not my spaceships sheets. My white ones.

“Yes, that’s right. She was your friend. What kind of stuff did you do?” Brad takes a sip of his drink. I wonder what it is.

“We went to the park”

“The park? The downtown park?”

“Yes. Near the tall buildings. The Morgan S. Truette Memorial Park. That is what it is called. Susie and I go to that park.”

“Good. What would you do?” Brad’s partner asked.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” No. I will not talk to him. He will hurt me. He is like those mobsters. I saw them in a movie once. Mr. Charleston said to turn it off.

“Ok, that’s fine. Why don’t you talk to Brad and I’ll get you some food.”

Brad nods. “Good plan. Let’s talk about the park Mr. Laven. What would you do?”

I wait until Brad’s partner leaves. Bad. “We would do lots of things at the park.”

“Can you tell me?”

I liked the park. The park was the best in the summer. That’s when Susie and I played football. There was a large field with grass. And it was beside a little pond. The pond had cat tails around it. That’s what Susie called them. I laughed at the funny name. Susie would make me laugh. There were also little duckies on the pond. They went quack, quack, splash. They wouldn’t let me pet them. That made me sad. I wanted to pet the ducks. They were so cute. They had little green heads and they waddled all around the park. I liked the ducks, until they yelled. One time when I tried to pet the ducks they flapped their wings and screamed. They all flew around and I fell down. They yelled and it hurt my ears. I rolled on the grass. Quack. Screech. Flap. The duck’s yelled at me. I rolled and cried on the grass. Cool grass. Warm tears. Warm tears kept me warm in basement. But in park I don’t like tears. Susie came over. She told me the ducks were just scared and that they didn’t know me. If they knew me, they would have liked me. They didn’t know. They are dumb ducks. Silly ducks. I like their feet too.

Before we went home to the big family, Susie would take me to the swings. Rusty. Rope. The swings were made of big tires and tress. I would sit in the tire and Susie would push me. Wind. Sun. I would swing back and forth. Susie would smile and say how high I was going. I think I could see China from the very top. Every time I got to the top I was scared. The tire would fall. Down. Down. No not down. I want to go up. Don’t bring me downstairs. I want to go to the sky. Well, only if Susie came. Then, the rope would catch me and swing me back up. I liked the swings. They were nice. Red and black. Sometimes mud was on the tires. Susie didn’t like when I sat in the dirt. I didn’t mind at all.

She would say, “You’re not an elephant. You don’t take mud baths.” She showed me this video of elephants taking mud baths. Isn’t that silly? The elephants throw mud on themselves for sunscreen. Trunks. Mud. Susie showed me. It must be real. Susie was so smart and funny. “You’re not an elephant.” She said that to me. That’s what she said.

“Mr. Laven, could you tell me what kinds of things you would do at the park?”

“Yes. We would play football. And watch ducks. And swing. Susie and Me. We had fun at the park every Tuesday afternoon. But, we had to be back for dinner by 6:00 sharp. Mr. Charleston used to tell us not to be late for dinner. Hot food was the best. That’s what he would say.”

“Where did you go from the park last Tuesday? Did you go home?”

Last Tuesday was nice. Sometimes, Susie and I would go to 7-11 before going home. We went last Tuesday. There are two blue trashcans out front and some people stared at us. I guess they wanted Slurpees too. We would walk through the door. Ring. Ring. Bell. And it was cold. The store was always cold to keep the Slurpees cold. Then, Susie would give me a cup and I would pull the lever. The Slurpee would magically come out. There was red and yellow and sour green. I liked all the Slurpees. Sticky. Broken tile. I put all the Slurpees in my cup. It was brown and tasted funny. Susie said I was silly. I made Susie laugh. I love Susie.

Then, we would walk to the cash register. Pay. Money. I didn’t have money. The big family payed for me. One day, I will make money. I will buy Slurpees for Susie and she will be happy. Smile. She had white teeth and a big smile. I liked her hair. It was golden. I asked if it was real; she said it was. It must have been worth a million dollars.

We parked far away from the 7-11. It was a long walk back. It must have taken a hundred minutes. Slow. Slow. My feet hurt from the park. I wanted Susie to carry me. She told me I was too big. Strong. Slurp. Icy Slurpee. Red and brown and a funny twisty straw.

Red. Little. Walking. Slurp. These boys came up to us. The first boy said, “Hey stupid, the Slurpee goes in your mouth.” They all laughed. He was a big boy. There were five of them, or maybe twenty of them. And they laughed. I didn’t understand what was funny. The Slurpee goes in my mouth. Why did they laugh? They were younger than Susie. Susie was mad at them. Her eyes were down. Her nose. Small and beautiful. It was wrinkly. I can tell when Susie is angry. Her voice isn’t soft. It was sweet always. It was always sweet to me. Susie was my friend. And she liked me.

The other boys said something to Susie. I think I heard. Idiot. Stupid. Bed. Retard. Like. Laughter. Their laugh was prickly. It wasn’t like duck laughter. Swim. Swim. It was bad laughs. Bad. Bad. Susie looked away. Hurt. She was hurt. And upset. I know when Susie is upset. I know these things. I looked at the boys.

They hurt Susie. They hurt my Susie. No. No. No. Hurt. She was hurt and I was sad. Then, I was angry. I felt bubbling in me. It was hot. It must have melted my Slurpee. Hot. Fire. Cigarette butts. Basement. Hot. It hurt me. The hot wanted to get out. It made my tears hot and my nose runny. The boys hurt Susie.

I screamed.

I ran at the boys. I grabbed one. He hurt Susie. So I hurt him. The hotness was leaving me. It was leaving while I screamed. The mean boy. Bad. Bad boy. I hit him. I was stronger than him. I threw him down and hit him again and again. Red. Warm. Ouch. My knuckles hurt when I hit him. The hot wouldn’t stop. I was angry they hurt Susie. That was bad. They needed to stop. They needed to be hurt. Susie tried to stop me. She tried pulling me off of the mean boy. Smash. I hit his nose. It was like peanut brittle. It cracked easily. Snap. Red. The boy was yelling. I yelled louder. “No, you hurt Susie.”

I don’t know why Susie tried to pull me off. She couldn’t. I was strong. She told me so. I don’t know why. Why didn’t she want me to hurt the boys? I was helping her. I don’t understand Susie. She is smart. Maybe one day I will be. We will be together forever.

Two men pulled me off the boy. He was rolling on the ground. Red. My hands hurt really bad. I told Susie. She was crying. I said, “Don’t cry Susie. The bad people are gone.” I tried to hug her, but they wouldn’t let me.

“Mr. Laven, can you try to focus? Where did you go after the park last Tuesday?”

“We got Slurpees. Mine was brown. The mean boys hurt Susie. I protected Susie.”

“Yes, there were mean boys there. But what happened after that?”

The cop car smelled weird. I did not like it. They pushed me into it. Susie was trying to talk to them. Window. I looked at her. Inside. I couldn’t hear. I yelled for her. She looked at me. Sad. She was sad that I was going away. No Susie. I yelled. The car left. Susie didn’t come. She didn’t come.

The jail wasn’t like movies. It was cold. There were mean people. Everything was loud. Questions. Questions. The handcuffs hurt my hands. A nice lady took them off. She was the only nice one. Everyone was cold. They didn’t talk like Susie or Mr. Charleston. Long time. Time. Forever. Waiting. I wanted my blanket. I was hungry. Dinner was at 6:00 sharp. What if Mr. Charleston was back? I was going to miss his return. I told the police that I was going to be late. They said I had to stay. Long. Long. Wait. Wait. No. I needed to go. Don’t be late. That’s what Mr. Charleston would say. Don’t be late.

“Mr. Laven, what happened after 7-11?”

One of Mr. Charleston’s friends from the big family home picked me up. Sam. Sam is nice. He helps Mr. Charleston with all sorts of things. He works hard. Like an ant. Sam is nice and has a big nose. I am taller than Sam. He says I am a strong. I can beat him in arm wrestling. I like Sam. But he wouldn’t tell me where Susie was. I asked him. Again. No. Where is Susie? Where is Suise? I wanted to talk to her. Sam said she was ok, but I couldn’t talk with her. She was at home. I wanted to see her. Now. I didn’t want to go back to big family home without Susie. No. I yelled and yelled. Noise. Susie. Sam would take me. He talked to me. He said I needed to calm. Calm. And we could see Susie for a minute. Then, we had to go to big family home. I sat quiet. I wanted to see Susie.

“Mr. Laven?”

“I went to jail and then Sam picked me up. He let me see Susie.”

“Yes. You went to Susie’s house?”

Why doesn’t Brad listen to me? “Yes. I told you we went to see Susie. Sam took me. Sam took me to see Susie.”

“Ok. Ok. Yes, Sam took you to Susie’s house. What happened there?”

I am hungry. I don’t want to talk to Brad anymore. My spaceship watch says 5:30. It was almost diner. I can’t be late. Mr. Charleston said not to be late. 6:00 sharp. No. Brad. I don’t want to talk to Brad anymore. I want to see Susie before she goes into her box. She was resting like Mr. Charleston. I am sorry she has to rest. I just wanted to be with her.

Sam took me to see her after jail. Susie lived in the biggest house I had ever seen. There must be a million rooms. I liked the elevator. Susie was on the 14thfloor. I liked Susie’s house. One day I will live with Susie in her little room in the big house. It is yellow. Bright yellow like the sun in the park. She has a nice rug. Its furry and soft and warm. She smiled when I came in. She didn’t know I was coming. I gave her a big hug. Smile. Warm. Susie was different. She didn’t hug me like in the morning. She stepped away. She was smiling. I don’t understand. I told her how I liked her house. I never go to her house. She comes to visit us at big family house. We play there. And on Tuesday afternoons we go to the Morgan S. Truette Memorial Park.

Sam said we had to leave. I wanted to stay with Susie. Susie. He said I would see her tomorrow. I didn’t want to leave Susie. No. No big family home. I love Susie. Susie wants to be with me. I told Sam. He tried to grab me. No. I threw his hand off. No. Sam. I want to stay with Susie. Her room is so warm and nice. There is even a TV. No Sam. I told him. No. I am staying with Susie. I pushed Sam away.

Susie touched me. Her hands were so soft. She told me I needed to go with Sam. She had to stay and I had to go. No. I told her I wanted to stay. Stay. She is warm and light. I don’t want to leave with Sam. She said I had to go.

No. No. No. No. I wanted to stay. I yelled. I wanted to stay. I yelled. Loud. Louder. Louderest. No. I wanted to stay. Then, Susie used a strange voice. It was hard. It was not soft and warm. She told me to leave now. I felt the hot stuff in my chest. It came again. I didn’t like the hot stuff. I started crying. Sam touched me. No. No Sam. I threw him into the counter. He tried to get up, but fell back down. I grabbed Susie. I squeezed her. Susie. I want to love you. We will go to the park. And I will stay with you. She screamed. Loud. No Susie. I put my hand on her mouth and squeezed harder. No. She bit me. Ouch. Pain. Red. My hand was red. She bit me and I put her down.

Bad Susie. Susie hurt me bad. She wouldn’t let me stay. Susie bit my hand. No. Bad. Susie. The hot came out and I picked up Susie. I threw her into her room. She hit her head on the wood part. She had a nice bedroom it was blue. She bumped her head when I threw her. That’s when she started resting. I yelled more, but then the hot went away. I put Susie on my lap. She didn’t move. I held Susie. She was cold. I wrapped her in a blanket. Warm. Warm. Be warm Susie. I will stay here. I will be with you Susie. We can be here together. Every day Susie.

“Mr. Laven, what happened at Susie’s apartment?”

“She hurt me Brad. See my hand? Its ok. I forgive her. She is resting now. We can go to the park when she wakes up. Brad, I have to go to dinner. I can’t be late. Mr. Charleston told me not to be late.”

Brad leaves. He didn’t say goodbye. Cold.