This week, we discussed the basics of plot, and turned in our first exercises. The assignment was to "create your own story where a character's expectation of something is dashed completely." I have written out my assignment below.
Old Steven
His picture came up on the computer screen, and all I could do was tilt my head, gently grab my throat, and mutter “well, looks like everyone’s on Facebook now.”I figured Old Steven would be one of the holdouts. He was the type of college kid who wore jackets with patches on them, back before twee was a thing. And, when all of us were parading around our Discmen and just getting into Napster, he was still a believer in the charms of mixtapes. But there he was, in a photograph stolen from his company’s website (at least I could take comfort in the idea that he was going into this halfheartedly), and a skeletal profile.
“Jake! Guess who just joined Facebook! You’ll never guess!”
Hubby Jake grudgingly poked his head into the dining room. “Yup, you’re right.” And that was it for Jake. Oh, well. He never liked Steven when we were in college, anyway. Always acted kinda weird around him.
Now, I was excited to see the guy, to be able to interact with him a little bit. Even back then, Old Steven gave off such an... interesting vibe. Not most people’s cup of tea, but you had to like someone who did their own thing. And, I mean, really, honest-to-goodness, their own, original, occasionally off-putting thing.
Before I could try and send him a message, a message popped up on my screen. So, Old Steven wanted to contact me! “how r u? i m doin good”
Strange words, coming from someone who once had a reputation as a strict grammarian. I suppose he decided that times had changed. “I’m doing well. So good to hear from you. What’s new.”
“Uh, same old stuff. u? still married to Kale?” “Imean Jake (stupid typo)”
“Yup.” I took a sip of water. “How about yourself?”
“nope still a free agent. so, you happy together?”
Another sip. Ah, Old Steven. He was always a blunt one. His bracing honesty was usually so appealing. But, I guess, when he turns it toward you...
“u there?”
“Yes yes.” “Um, well, can I trust you?”
“sure”
I took a breath, then another sip of water. The one feature about Old Steven, the thing that was so attractive, was always so attractive about him, was that he was totally free of artifice. He put it all out there, but that meant he wasn’t hiding. That he was honest. If he said you could trust him, you could trust him.
“Things... things aren’t going so well.” Sip. “I’m getting increasingly fed up with Jake. I” “I mean, there are qualities about him that I’ve always found irritating” “but I’ve ignored them, you know.”
I looked up. Things were strangely quiet. Usually I could at least hear Jake watching the football game. Perhaps it was just my nerves.
“And it’s getting to the point where I can’t ignore them anymore, but I don’t know how to deal with it, or who to talk to.” “Which is why I’m so glad you joined, Steve. You’re the only one I feel I can confide in.” “The only one who understands me.”
Old Steven logged off without a word. I leaned back and sighed. Perhaps... perhaps it was a bad connection?
Well, I could always follow up by email. I Googled Old Steven, found his company website and profile, and saw his face smiling back at me. And there, beneath his email and some text about mortgages, was the following statement:
“Steven and his wife Marianne live in Santa Monica with their two children.”
I slowly closed my laptop. Now I could hear Jake in the next room, but I wasn’t sure if he was screaming or crying.
Looks like Old Steven was not on Facebook after all.
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