The first time Cody met her grandfather in person was in a hospital room, where he was leaning on his cane, looking out the window at the downpour. He was flanked by two machines, both emitting a rhythmic chirp that drowned out the rain so that the window looked like a TV scenery channel on mute.
He looked younger than she had expected, even under the sallow glow of the overhead lights. His cheeks sagged and morphed into jowls, but were wrinkle-free. His eyes stretched towards his forehead, unburdened by crow's feet. The first thing he said to her, after never having once laid eyes on her in the nineteen years of her life was, "I'm sorry."
"For what, Thomas?" Her head tilted with the question.
"You tilt your head like your dad did."
"Don't be sorry for that." He smiled and looked at the floor. She followed his eyes, even though she hated the sight of the floor. She was constantly aware of its smell, convinced that's where the sterile odor of hospitals came from. "I'm sorry we're meeting for the first time like this."
"Do you blame my dad for that?" "Not a whit. How much did he tell you about us?"
"Not much. He said there was no 'us' to tell me about. He told me that you were 'a man caught between here and there'. I think if he hadn't died when I was so young he would have told me what that meant."
Thomas laughed, a chuckle that scrambled out of his lungs chased by a pack of coughs. When he caught his ragged breath he said, "He was always maddeningly vague. Poetry over clarity."
In their phone calls, which had started just over a year ago when Cody had managed to track Thomas down, they hadn't discussed much about her father or Thomas's absence from his life. They mostly talked about books and places Thomas thought she should see. He'd recommend things like reading Dune while in Antarctica, or Moby Dick while visiting the Pyramids. It became a game where she'd try and stump him by saying things like "Mongolia," and he'd have to come up with a book.
Even when she started naming places like 'the edge of a forest' or "Sammy Davis Jr.'s gravestone," he'd have a recommendation.
"I knew we'd talk about my dad today. I tried not to think about it, but I keep having this thought. People say parents shouldn't outlive their children. But what about when that parent is also someone's child? My dad didn't outlive me, but he also didn't outlive you. He was caught in the middle of us."
Thomas let out a breath through his nose. "I used to ride my bike to work. Every day, whether God was pissin' or bakin' a potato. I lived in a haggard old building, with a basement built to be a bomb shelter.
That's where everyone stored their bikes. I'd walk down there in the morning and could tell you the weather based on how many bikes were still there. One day I noticed a kid's bike down there, sandwiched between two grown-up bikes. Tas-sells and training wheels. I never saw a kid in the building, nor saw those three bikes out anywhere, but I could tell they were being used.
They changed spots, but always the kid's bike was between the other two. Then one day it wasn't there.
Nor the next. Never saw it again. The other two were still there, but I never saw them move again. They just stayed there with a space between them."
"Maybe the kid outgrew it." She knew that was wrong.
There was a not-uncomfortable pause. Cody stared out the window, watching the rain fall through dusk. She could tell Thomas' gaze was fixed on her, but his eyes hovered on her matted hair, a cause lost to the depths of hospital bed head.
It wasn't until a few days ago, when her condition had turned ahead of expected schedule, that she had told Thomas about it. He'd pushed for a face to face meeting before that, but Cody had pushed back, saying she wasn't ready for it. But with the turn she knew it was time. He'd flown out from the opposite corner of the world. When he arrived he stood in the doorway of his sleeping granddaughter's hospital room for a long time before coming in.
"Will you tell me about my dad? And about you? I don't need to know all the bad stuff. I just want to know the why." "There isn't a good why, Cody. Some things fall apart. In our case they were never properly put together. I wasn't a good father. It wasn't drugs or booze or anything like that. I just couldn't find the right way to do it. I was selfish and well ...
I was really selfish." "He told me the last time you saw each other you had it out on the 'shores of the Pacific'."
A blend of regret and shame appeared on his face. "There's a place between happiness and unhappiness. I spent my life there. It was comfortable and safe and I didn't know how to be anywhere else.
When you found me I was so scared to talk to you. Not because I thought you'd hate me, but because I knew I'd have to move from that place.
Don't ever live in that place, Cody. Don't ever unpack your bags and settle in." She tilted her head. "That is the worst advice you could give someone who's dying." He laughed again, this time without the coughs.
"I would have liked to have known you forever. What a child that can face something with such guts."
"Come sit down," she said. He shuffled over and sat on the end of her bed, resting his hand on her covered ankle. "I think I've got a stumper," she said. "The afterlife."
Our So You Think You Can Write judges weigh in on Nick Clew-ley's fourth-week winning entry, The In-Between Places.
DAVE OBEE
This has emotion, drama, a couple of surprises and a killer last line. There are twists and turns, and enough detail to give us a sense of who these people are. The fact that it deals with death makes the story even stronger. I also like the way it is a slice of two stories - the lives of the two people in question. There is much that is left to the reader's imagination, and it forces us to ponder what has happened before, and what is yet to happen.
This was a joy to read, more than once.
MATTHEW HOOTON
WHAT I LIKE:
I love that the author has opened the story in scene, established characters and "set-up" the narrative. I've written about storytelling instincts a couple of times during this contest - great example here.
And of course, I was taken by the situation, by this dying child and her grandfather, the reversal of time and order of death in this family, the mystery of the missing generation between them.
Finally, I love that last line. Gorgeous and perfectly open-ended, despite the literal finality it implies for Cody.
WHAT I'D LIKE TO SEE MORE OF:
The story is primarily dialogue, which means that each spoken word carries a huge amount of weight, and that we're looking to our speakers to guide us through the narrative. It also means the dialogue has to be pitch-perfect.
I love the image of the child's bike, but is this an example of natural dialogue, or of anecdotal storytelling ascribed to a character? The same goes for Thomas's speech about the "place between happiness and unhappiness." Compare that to the last line of the piece - this wonderful quirky statement that tells us so much about the speaker without sounding forced or didactic.
QUESTIONS TO THINK ABOUT:
1. What is gained/lost by using dialogue for didactic story-telling? 2. Is the child's bike too obviously a capital "S" Symbol? 3. What is gained/lost by not naming the illness Cody is dying of?
JANET ROGERS
Wow, super subject to build a story around. Written with great detail of family dynamics. Very relatable subject. The theme (the title) was carried consistently throughout the story.
Provoked thought about the circle of life and where we fit into it, by allowing three different generations to tell the same story. Just enough dialogue to drive the story along and the writer provided back story on the characters efficiently without losing focus on the message/theme. Good stuff.
HOMEWORK
Today: Assignment 4
Today we present the results of the fourth and final assignment for the finalists in So You Think You Can Write.
This assignment gave them free rein:
This is your chance to write how you want, about whatever you want. A poem, a short story, a piece of creative non-fiction - whatever you feel best shows off your talent.
Readers' favourite: Week 3
The judges have chosen Nick Clewley as top writer three weeks in a row. Last week, his nonfiction piece When Needs Clash won their esteem, but you disagreed.
For the third week in a row, Fiona Luo led the readers' choice poll. She received 54.31% of the 116 votes cast this week. Clewley followed with 31.03 per cent, Frankie Blake won 11.21 per cent and 3.45 per cent of the audience voted for Pat Parker.
The window for voting is shorter this week, being the final week - so make your vote count. Voting is open today only at timescolonist.com/ writingcontest
