#FreewriteMadness: Day Seventeen

Another day, another vanishingly small window of time in which to write something – even just a few paragraphs – of my #NaNoWriMo novel. It's all about not breaking my no-days-skipped streak right now! 😉 Let's get right to it.

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Rapid Leaks

～ Emma ～

She takes a deep breath and steps through the door of the community hall. A few parents are here already, clustered in little groups here and there.

Derek Fitzmaurice sits alone in a corner, typing something on his phone. Emma’s eyes widen. She’s stunned to see him here … still, at least this means there is one face she knows in this room. But then, everyone else will know him too. He’s Derek Fitzmaurice, for crying out loud. She’s amazed that he would have attended a group like this, given his high public profile. Still, there is a strict confidentiality policy within the group – Orla has told her this, again and again – so maybe he felt okay about attending it. She doesn’t know…

Perhaps she should just ignore him. After the circumstances of their first meeting, he’ll hardly be thrilled to see her again. And what could they possibly have to say to one another? What on Earth do they have in common – apart from the obvious fact that they are, for some reason or other, struggling to raise their children alone? No, it would be best all around if she stayed over here. There’s a nice, comfortable chair a few feet away from her. Best still, it’s situated right next to the door, so if things get too cringeworthy for her liking, she can simply walk out.

Why have her legs begun to move across the hall towards him? Stop walking, stop walking, she tries to tell them, but they will not listen.

And now she is standing right in front of him. He is intently reading something on his phone, though, and hasn’t turned to look at her yet. Perhaps he hasn’t even noticed her. Alright, now is the time to be sensible, Emma chides herself. She could simply turn away, or pretend that she was walking to a seat somewhere behind him.
Instead, her mouth opens and she begins to speak.

～ Derek ～

‘Hello, Mr Fitzmaurice.’

Derek looks up and sees her: the red hair, the shrewd expression, the keen green eyes. Her face is familiar to him – she’s the supermarket manager, isn’t she? From Price Watchers.

‘Hello.’ Awkward silence. ‘I … it’s Emma, isn’t it? I’m sorry. I’m terrible with names.’

‘That’s it, yes.’

‘Of course. Sorry. Just had to double-check’

‘Don’t worry about it.’ She indicates the chair next to him. ‘Is this seat taken?’

‘No, no, not at all.’

She sits down.

They smile a little nervously at one another. Derek doesn’t know what to say – small talk has never been his forte, but he has to say something.

‘So…’ Emma begins, with another awkward smile, ‘if you don’t mind me asking, how many children do you have?’

‘Two. My eldest is called Sophie and my youngest is Luke.’

‘Ah right.’

‘It’s his birthday on Sunday.’

‘That’s nice. How old will he be?’

‘Eight. Sophie is eleven, she’ll be going on twelve soon.’

‘Lovely – you have all the teen angst ahead of you! I have one boy. Brian. Fifteen.’

‘Oh, right. Does he go to St. Pat’s, or –’

Something about the way she turns her face from him, and the way she clenches her jaw, warns him not to proceed in this line of questioning. Her son’s school career is clearly not up for discussion.

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That was 569 words. I did better than yesterday, at least, despite the fact that I had about the same amount of time! Go me. 😁

I want to end this post by giving a shout out to everyone else who has signed up to the fit of absolute lunacy invigorating creative challenge that is #FreewriteMadness. 😇 Make sure you go and support their work too! I have limited voting power (damn my not-quite-plankton but not-quite-redfish status 😉), but will upvote as many posts as I can per day.

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