"Charly" (Chapter Three) from Charly's Point of View

I don’t know what was up with that old stick-in-the-mud. I wanted to marry him, but Sam seemed to take his sweet time making his mind up. One day we went to the department store together. We passed the maternity section and I modeled one of the dresses.

 “How many children do you want, Sam?”

“At least six.” Holy moly! And here I was thinking two would be a lot.

“How come? Religious reasons?”

“That’s right.” My parents had warned me that Mormons had a million kids, but I hadn’t believed it till now.

“Six kids. Nearly a baseball team,” I tried to lighten the mood a little.

“They come one at a time. That way you can make all your mistakes on the first one.”

“Easy, fella, I was the first one.”

I tried again later when we passed the toy department. I tried to carry six dolls, but one fell to the ground. “I can’t get six, Sam,” I said. “I’ll be good mother, Sam. As good as if I’d grown up in Utah.” I was earnest. Well, maybe I wouldn’t be the perfect Mormon mom, but I would try. He didn’t respond.

We had gotten everything we needed when Sam remembered some hose piece he’d forgotten. We decided to separate and—I suggested—meet up at, say, the jewelry counter.

I wandered over to the CD section, idly browsing the music selection. I finally picked out a Bach CD to give Sam. I went to the jewelry counter, browsed the rings, and waited. And waited. Seriously, how hard is it to find a coupling or whatever he was looking for anyway. Where on earth did that knucklehead go? I got some popcorn and checked out without him.

That was when a brilliant idea popped into my head.

I went up to customer service.

“Excuse me,” I said, “But could you help me? I’ve lost my son. He won’t know where I am.” I smiled a shaky smile at the large man behind the desk and blinked false tears out of my 
eyes.

“Of course, ma’am,” He said in a sympathetic tone. “Just use our P.A. system.”

“Thank you so much!” He offered me a tissue and helped me use the P.A. system.

“Sam, Sammy, do you hear me? This is Mommy. The nice men in the store let me use their big radio. Sammy, wherever you are in the store, stop and listen to Mommy. Sammy, darling, if you can hear me, listen carefully. Remember when Mommy bought you a big bag of popcorn last week? Sam, go to the popcorn machine and Mommy will be there. Do you understand? The popcorn place. Mommy has a big bag of popcorn for you. Mommy loves you, dear.”

I thought it was a clever idea. It would certainly get his hiney over there. I went to the popcorn machine and waited for—sure enough—only a minute before he came over, eyes blazing, with that stupid coupling in his hand. I smiled my sweetest smile at him.

“I got a Passion for you,” I presented the CD. His only reply was to forcefully take my arm to rush me out of the store. Talk about taking things too seriously.

“Did you find your boy?” a security guard asked as we rushed past.

“Big for his age, isn’t he?”
Sam was obviously not amused.

“Why don’t you grow up?” He said after we’d gotten in the car. “You think the world is made for your amusement?”

“Is that a rhetorical question or do you want a real answer?”

“What if there had been an emergency? You think you can tie up their P.A. system for your own amusement?”

“‘Attention, shoppers,’” I imitated the computer-like female store announcement voice, “‘there’s a blue-light special this hour on shredded muslin at two dollars a yard.’ You call that an emergency?”

“There’s such a thing as responsibility.”

“I’m sure there is, and there’s also such a thing as being a stuffed shirt.”

He was angry. You could tell by the insane way he drove—almost resulting in several accidents. He slammed on the brakes as soon as we reached my house.

“You talk about marriage,” he said. “Well, I’m not ready to get married to someone who hasn’t grown up yet.”

“Why do you have to be such a self-righteous bore?” I stomped out of the car and started up the porch. Maybe I really shouldn’t have been so hard on him. I turned back. “Sam, I really should apologize.”

“Okay.” I couldn’t do it. Not with him looking so... well, so self-satisfied.

“I didn’t offer you any popcorn, did I?”

I dumped the bag of popcorn onto his head and ran into the house.

I thought that when he called to apologize I would forgive him and all would be well. But he didn’t call. So I decided to let him go.

Assignments for September 18

To be prepared for class on September 18, please do the following:

• Vote for our 2nd semester book if you haven't already.
• Read chapters 19-27 of Bleak House.
• Read all the descriptions of bedrooms and leave positive comments on three of them.
• Write from one of the following prompts and post your writing on the blog:
• Choose an even from your life and tell about it from your own point of view and from the another person's point of view or in third person.
• OR Pick a part of one of your favorite books and retell the story from a different point of view than the one the author used.

I have been really impressed so far with your insights into a really difficult book and your writing.  Keep up the good work!

My Room

My room is different from what it might be if I didn't share it. If I had my own room, it would constantly be messy, the walls covered with photos, drawings, charts, galore. Fortunately, I share a room with my tidiest sister, Avonlea. As a result, we have the biggest and (usually) cleanest bedroom in the house--barring my parents'. When our basement was being finished, it was our choice whether to make our bedroom one or two rooms. Since we chose to make it one room, it is very large with two closets and two windows. We each have our side of the room with our respective beds, windows, and closets. My closet is my messy place: A place that I make my own since Avonlea doesn't have to live with it.

The best part of our room is the bookshelves. The first thing we set up in our room was a bookshelf, calling dibs on all of our favorite books to put on it; and this past weekend we received an addition: A second bookshelf! We're still trying to fill it up, but it won't take long before it's just as packed as the one shelf was before. I think that the books change the way our room feels. The books make our room feel more like home.

Empty

((Ya'll's stories are awesome! And yes, I'm absolutely a procrastinator posting this at the last second :D ))


My room is certainly not empty. The mess, while not overwhelming the room, does permeat throughout, cluttering the surfaces, obscuring the ground. Makeup is strewn across my windowsill and floor, marking where I get ready for the day. A straightener and blowdryer sit in front of an outlet on the floor, all centered around the mirror I've temporarily leaned against the window.

Clothes spread out across the floor in small piles, waiting for me to finally throw them into a laundry basket. Random bric-a-brac are scattered around--notebooks, decor and sentimental items I've yet to find a place for. As always, my bed is unmade, my two quilts and comforter resting in an uneasy pile on top, just in case of a chilly night. Next to the bed is a charger in the outlet, and a basket full of books I've yet to make a home for. The books act as a make-shift bedside table that I rest my phone and other things on top of periodically, sometimes causing even more of a mess when they fall off. My closet is half-organized with color-sorted clothes hung neatly on hangers, but shoes, fallen clothes and accessories sprinkling the floor.

No, my room is certainly not empty, in that it is definitely not bereft of physical items. But it is empty in that it lacks memories and history. Everything feels temporary, displaced, nothing settled, nothing attached to the newness of my room. But memories will come, and one day I will be able to look into the room and feel more than a conveniant room with a bed to sleep in. And for now, I'll just have to keep cleaning my definitely-not-empty room.


-Lacey Smetzer/Felicity Aaron

My room.

My room is a dark, messy place, with only one window, and clutter everywhere. I have a small bed in a corner with a bookshelf next to it, a dresser in another, and a desk to one side of my room. The closet door leads to an even darker room with hung shirts and storage boxes. I have various books strewn about the room, and my desk constantly has different piles of different things on it, books, paper a hatchet. That kinda stuff. The vent in my room is almost constantly blowing cold air, so my room is essentially a cave. A man-cave.

Williams awesome room

My room is a zoo! We have four animals in there five if you count my little Bro :D. There's a snake, two gecko's and a turtle. They're all quiet. Except the turtles filter which can get quite annoying until you get used to it. Usually we'll have a praying mantis or two in there in the fall as well. I share a room with my brother I sleep on the top bunk and he sleeps on the bottom. And there is a cursed part of the ceiling in the middle that comes down. I occasionally smack my head against it on my bunk. The room is in the basement and has a window well with no blinds. It gets fairly bright in the day time, I really like the daylight it is very comfortable. If there wasn't a little wall right in front of our door, it would be a pretty sketchy business trying to get dressed since the window has no blinds. I have some awesome choir pictures of me and of my brother that I am confident in stuck to the wall making that wall awesome.            

My Cozy Little Room

My room is quite cozy with an air of tidiness and tranquility. 

Due to its recently being organized it has a sweet sense of simplicity and order. 

When I enter my room I have feeling of delight and comfort and I sometimes get an urge to fall back on the voluptuous covers of my bed and sink into a relenting state of peaceful bliss. 

Although my room is nowhere near extravagant and is in no way elaborate or embellished, I find the modesty and neat manner in which it is arrayed, quite pleasing. :)