I have been writing a lot lately about several characters I've developed over a long time, and their interactions with one another. I guess you would call this a vignette. It's part of a bigger story, a work in progress. I wanted to practice writing in third person omniscient because it's not a POV I have worked with much.
I love a good critique. I would love some feedback on this, even if you think it sucks. Tell me, and tell me why.
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Renee stood with her back to him, pouring water from a pitcher. Her long red hair was down, flowing to her waste. It was that hair that first attracted him. She had come home from work happy today. Just minutes earlier she was laughing, telling him what some old man had said to her.
He stood timidly, on the other side of the kitchen. He knew she didn't have much time before she had to go to work at her other job. As she turned around to face him he became aware of his own anxiety. He had already started to shake. "Renee" he said softly.
"Yea?" she smiled back at him.
"I..." he stumbled over his words for a second, then took a deep breath, "I think we should break up."
Her jaw dropped and the smile that had been on her face was replaced with an expression of bewilderment. She stood perfectly still, holding the glass of water. "Why? What is it now?"
He looked down at the floor, unable to handle the site of her face right now, "It's nothing you did. And it's not that I don't love you." He was choking up, which made it hard to speak. "I just don't want you to suffer anymore."
Her shock was replaced with anger, and her stillness with sudden movement. She sat her glass down on the counter, so hard that water splashed out of it. "I don't fucking believe this." She stormed passed him and down the stairs.
He followed. He didn't see her in the TV room, so he turned sharply into the bedroom, where she was pulling several articles of clothing out of the dresser and tossing them in a laundry basket.
"What are you doing?"
"What's it look like?" she gave a small sarcastic laugh, "I'm packing my shit and getting the hell out of here!"
"Come on Renee', please don't leave like this. I'm doing this for your own good."
"I can't keep doing this Anders. All this fucking drama all the time. And just when I think it's all calmed down you pull something else. Why the hell can't you make up your mind?" As she was speaking she entered the bathroom and came out holding her toothbrush.
"It's not that I can't make up my mind. My mind is made up. I can't keep hurting you." He took a few steps toward her and put his arms loosely around her waist. She noted the pallid look in his blue eyes and wondered if he was thinking straight. "Please don't make this harder than it has to be."
"Get your hands off me!" she snapped, backing up. "You're asking me to not make this harder. Wow..." she shook her head in disbelief and continued adding things to her basket.
She picked up the basket and charged past him, out of their bedroom and back up the stairs.
He followed. "You don't have to leave." he called to her. "I'll leave." When he reached the top of the stairs he saw Tom coming in the door from work. Great, he thought, wondering if Tom was going to ignore this conflict or get in the middle of it. Neither would surprise him.
"You know what kills me about this?" Renee's loud voice interrupted his thought pattern. He didn't say anything. He stood at the top of the stairs waiting for her to finish. She was in front of him now, her green eyes full of fire and tears. "Five fucking years! I supported you when you lost your job. And when you tried yo kill yourself I--" he voice faltered for a second as she choked back a determined sob. She took a deep breath, "When you tried to kill yourself I was at the hospital every fucking day. And now that you've gotten help you're just dumping me!"
He didn't have anything to say for himself. Tears were burning in his own eyes now and all he wanted to do was grab her and hold her. He noticed that Tom had left the room, thankfully.
She picked up the basket of clothes from the chair where she had left it and pushed her way past him, back down the stairs. He followed again. He saw her go into the bedroom. He planned to follow her and try to speak to her rationally. But when he reached the bottom of the stairs she slammed the door shut. He could hear her crying from the other side of the door. He stood for a long moment, staring at the door, thinking what a mess he'd made of things this time.
Eventually he heard muffled speech coming from inside the bedroom. "Hi Brenda, it's Renee." ... "Hey, I'm really sorry to do this to you, but I can't come in tonight." ... "Just some shit at home I have to deal with." ... "You can get someone to cover for me right?" He felt awful. He knew how much she had called off from work when he was in the hospital. She was lucky to have such an understanding boss. "Alright, bye."
He waited a half a minute or so and slowly opened the door.
She was curled up on the bed, her red hair hiding her face like a funeral shroud. He walked across the floor to the bed and touched her hair lightly. "Can we at least talk about this?"
"I can't do this right now." she sniffled, "I'm too upset."
"Do you think this is easy for me?", he said, "I don't want to lose you but I can't handle seeing you suffer anymore."
"That should be my choice, not yours." She was still laying with her back to him, curled up. Her body was shaking.
"Renee, I'm sorry, I--"
"Just get out." she said, "You said I could stay."
He stood up slowly. She didn't turn to face him as he left the room.
He felt nauseous as he left the bedroom and began climbing the stairs. The room seemed to be spinning. There was a trash can that Tom kept at the top of the stairs in the atrium. When he reached the top of the stairs he sat clumsily, grabbed it, and puked in it.
Tom came into the atrium to see what was the matter. He watched, not knowing what to do. He entered the kitchen and grabbed a paper towel. He walked into the atrium and handed it to his friend. Tom had never been good at this sort of thing and had no idea what to say. Finally he spoke, "What'd you do this time?"
Anders looked up at him and rolled his eyes while wiping his mouth. He then stood swiftly and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.
Tom stood for a second, "What the fuck just happened here?" he thought to himself. The smell of vomit hit his nostrils. He immediately opened the door and sat the trash can outside. Anders could take care of it later. It was his mess, after all. And Tom had cleaned up plenty of his messes over the years.
Downstairs Renee was still laying on the bed. The tears had stopped. She tried to convince herself that she'd cried herself dry and wouldn't cry anymore over him. But she knew deep down that wasn't true. She reminded herself that mental illness was not a get out of jail free card. She remembered all the times she defended his strange behavior, because "He can't help it. He's sick."
But, she also helped him through every rough patch over the years. When her thoughts landed on the day he attempted suicide she felt a tug deep within her and her eyes began to burn again. No. She thought, I won't think about that right now.
She stood up and walked into the bathroom. Her face in the mirror was haunting and ominous in the dim light. She flipped on the light and immediately noticed the redness in her eyes, and the stark, dark circles beneath them. Five years, she thought, everything he put her through, for nothing.
She quickly grabbed her brush and ran it through her long red hair. She noticed all the blond hairs entangled in the brush with her own hair. He used this brush also. She turned on the cold water and splashed some on her face, then patted it dry with a towel.
Her cell phone was on the table by the bed. She picked it up and dialed a familiar number. "Hello." the voice on the other end said.
"Hali?" Renee said, "Can you come over."
Anders was two blocks from the house before he even gave a thought to where he was going. Alan's house was the most logical choice, even though Jeff lived closer.
He felt weak and anxious.
He felt in the right pocket of his jeans and was so relieved he had his phone. How awkward would it have been to go back to the house after it? He called Alan. No answer. Figures. But he decided to head to the house anyway in hopes that Alan would be there with his ringer turned off.
The taste of vomit was still lingering in his mouth. He tried not to think about that, among other things.
For the last five years she was one of the few constants in his life. He lost jobs, lost friends, lost any ties with his family, and even lost his sanity. Somehow through it all he kept her. She really did keep him going for a long time. He wondered if she knew how grateful he was... how grateful he would always be.
She slept in the hospital room for five nights in a row when he was in the ICU after his suicide attempt. Unfortunately he was too out of it to notice. Morphine mixed with who really knows what else made those days a haze. He had vague recollections of bright lights, nurses, and pain... but he didn't remember much else.
Then came the psych ward...
He was held there on an involuntary hold. He was considered a threat to himself and to others. He found it mildly amusing... how they could label him a threat while having no idea what he'd been through. All the hallucinations... white dogs, delusions, how did any of that make him a danger? He had never been a violent person.
He was a danger to those around him in other ways. He knew this. The emotional pain he had caused Renee alone could rival anyone in jail for domestic violence. His multiple assaults on her may have never left a single bruise, but the scars would never fully heal.
His phone vibrated suddenly in his pocket, startling him out of his grim thought pattern. It was Alan, "Hello."
"Hey bro, what'd you need?"
He brushed long hair from his face as he spoke, "I need a place to sleep tonight."
"Why? What happened?"
"Renee and I split up."
"Again? Why?"
He took a deep breath, "Because I'm crazy."
Tom heard a car in the driveway, followed by footsteps on the porch and a light knock on the back door. He rounded the corner into the atrium and saw Hali standing outside, a bag in each hand.
"Hey." he said, opening the door.
"Hi." she said, stepping inside. "Is she downstairs?"
"Yeah."
"I got wine, Ben & Jerry's and scary movies." she smiled, holding up both bags.
"I'm sure she'll appreciate that."
"So do you think it's really over this time?"
"Don't know." he said, scratching his head, "I don't know all the details."
"He's a good guy and all, but he's a little bit nuts. Don't you think?"
"Well he can't really help it. No one chooses to be nuts."
"Yea but he keeps choosing to hurt my friend." she roles her eyes. "Maybe it's because he's from Norway and didn't get enough sunlight growing up over there."
"Maybe."
She turned and headed down the stairs.
It was getting dark when Anders got to Alan's place. Alan had a Guinness ready for him when he went inside. "So what happened man?" he asked, concerned.
Hali and Renee had already killed a whole bottle of red Moscato and were on the second bottle. Tom could hear their voices and occasional laughter downstairs in the tv room. He debated on going down there and hanging out with them but figured it was a bad idea. He had to show some level of neutrality here, out of respect. They were both close friends.
He had no idea where Anders was, if he was coming back tonight or coming back at all for that matter. As much as he wanted to be loyal, he couldn't help but feel like a certain darkness and negativity were gone from the house. At least for now.
