NaNoWriMo 2010 – Day 10

James was waiting on the swings. Him and Sophie had been friends since before they really knew there were differences between boys and girls. It would be an understatement to say that James had “a little bit” of a thing for her. Sophie was well aware of this and did her best to make sure it was kept in check. Though that didn’t stop her from accepting the ego boost his affections provided.
Sophie could see him as she walked across the grass. He was wearing his usual attire of an excess of baggy clothing that served to emphasise his small frame, rather than disguise it. She often teased him about such things, but he didn’t seem to wish to ever change. He was sat, moving gently back and forth, and dragging his feet along the ground. He turned as he heard he footsteps on the wood chippings of the playground.
“Hi, James.” Sophie smiled at him.
“Hi, Soph.” James beamed back at her behind his thick-cut, NHS glasses. “How’s life?”
“Exceptionally confusing.” Sophie slumped onto a swing next to him. She pushed off with her feet and began to swing in a slightly haphazard fashion. “Everything was so much less complicated when we were kids, wasn’t it?”
“I suppose so.” James looked thoughtful. “School was definitely a lot easier.”
Sophie gave him a look of endearment. “Yes. Yes it was. Families too.”
“Families are complicated?”
“Mine is. Well, it is now. I’m adopted, James.” She looked at him hopefully.
“Oh.” James’ face was offering no help. “Well, it’s nice to know, I suppose?”
Sophie sighed and went back to swinging.
“Do you know who your real parents are yet? I mean, your biological ones…”
“I’ve met my father. I don’t know what to think of him.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, either he’s mad or the world is. And even then, I think he’s still at least a little bit mad.”
“I sometimes think my parents are a little bit mad. Mainly whenever they try and go on about sport.” James gave her a reassuring smile.
“Yeh, he’s not that kind of mad. He’s more of your ‘mad prophet’ kind of mad. Beard and robe and everything.”
“Oh dear.”
“I’m meeting up with him again tomorrow. I’m gonna try and make him make a bit more sense. And maybe I can learn a bit about my mother.”
“Why can’t you meet her? Oh, she’s not dead it she?” James did his best to make his face show concern, but the glasses rendered it a bit ineffectual.
“Not that I’m aware of.” Sophie stopped swinging. “She’s apparently gone off somewhere and he doesn’t know where. He thinks she’ll be coming back, but has no idea when. Hell, that could just be some sort of delusion of his. I wouldn’t be surprised if she were staying away from him as much as possible.”
“Oh come on, he can’t be that bad!”
“No, I suppose he’s not. But it’s a bit jarring, really. To find out one day that you’re adopted, and then to find out the next day that your real father is the sort of man you’d avoid in the bus station in case he tried to give you some sort of leaflet.”
“Can I help at all?”
Sophie smiled, “You can take my mind off all this. Take me back to yours, beat me at computer games, and feed me until I pass out.”
“Um, okay?” James always got a little bit nervous at the thought of having Sophie in his bedroom. His mother would never allow girls in his room, but Sophie wasn’t considered a “girl”. James’ mother had known Sophie longer than Sophie had known James and she’d always approved of her. Though she did share Sophie’s mother’s opinion about Sophie’s hair. Suddenly Sophie wondered if James’ mother had known about Sophie’s adoption. And did anyone else know?
This all kept Sophie rather quiet on the walk to James’ house (not that it was a particulaly long one). James didn’t press her to break her silence. He’d never been one for excessive talking anyway, and Sophie’s company was enough to keep him more than happy. He preferred to simply look at his feet as he walked, trying not to smile or blush too much.

James’ bedroom was a boy’s bedroom. The walls were covered in posters and almost every possible surface was covered in things no longer considered toys (as he was now too old for such things) but collectibles. James was a hoarder and could see no reason to get rid of something that might have a use one day. He had drawers full of things with broken or missing parts and spare parts for things that he no longer owned. He had a floor-to-ceiling bookcase that was full to bursting with well-thumbed paperbacks. Some of them he didn’t even like, but he kept them anyway, just in case he forgot how he felt about them and needed to find out again.
It was relatively tidy today. His mother had come in earlier in the day and picked up all the clothes that had lain littered about. She’d intended to clean it, as she’d done the rest of the house. Unfortunately, there was barely anything to clean, without resorting to a large scale rearrangement of items. She’d vacuumed the floor and left it at that.
Sophie was now sat on this dirt-free floor with a plate of cheese-on-toast that James’ mother had made for her when she’d told her that, no, she hadn’t had any dinner yet. James was busy setting up the game they were about to play. He handed a controller to Sophie and she held it with one hand, the other being occupied by a half-eaten slice of the cheese-on-toast.
The game began and Sophie continued eating, neglecting to move her character and concentrating her focus on hitting whatever attack buttons she felt like. James’ character was running and jumping all over the screen, but was barely managing to land a blow on Sophie. She managed to stifle a giggle as his character was knocked out and he turned to look at Sophie in disapproval. She nonchalantly chewed on the last bite of the slice and placed her now free hand on the controller.
James took the second round with ease as Sophie was trying to remember complicated button combinations she’d learnt when they’d last played this game. None of them seemed to work, so she turned back to her random button strategy for the last round. It was a close fought thing, but James just beat her. Sophie gave him a smile that was intended to make it seem like she’d let him win, but she knew it wasn’t true. Sophie got up and left him to play on his own for a bit while she ate her second slice of toast and inspected his bookcase.
“Surely you’ve read them all by now?” James asked, not looking up from his game.
“I have not!” Sophie replied, petulantly. “And anyway, you might have some new ones.”
“Not for a while now. I’ve mostly been getting stuff from the library or just re-reading old stuff.”
“Let me guess, Hitchhiker’s Guide for the millionth time?”
“They’re great books! And no, other stuff.”
“Maybe I should give them another read. I might be going on my own fantastical journey soon…”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if Bob’s no help, that’s my new dad, by the way, I may have to go find my mother. No idea how I’d do that.”
“Well, couldn’t you just do a quick internet search for her? Everyone’s online in some for or another…”
“If she’s anything like Bob seems to think he is, she’s probably not going under her ‘real’ name any more. Hell, she might not even have a real name.”
“What?” James stopped what he was doing and looked round at her.
“It’s a long story that I don’t know the full details of yet.” Sophie lay down on James’ bed. “Bob seems to think he’s as old as the human race. And he said something vague about him and my mother having ‘arrived’ around then. Where they arrived from, I don’t know yet. I’m going to see him tomorrow, so I might be able to learn a bit more then. Or I’ll just come away even more confused.”
“Oh. That’s definitely very… hmmm.” James managed.
“Yes, it definitely is that.” Sophie rolled onto her side and looked at James. “Why have you gone all quiet?”
“There’s, um… there’s a girl in my bed.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “I’m not in your bed, James, I’m on it. And you know full well it wouldn’t mean anything even if I were in it.”
“Yeh…” Jamie avoided her gaze. Sophie rolled her eyes once more and lamely threw a book at him. It caught him on the arm and James rubbed the imagined bruise as he blushed heavily.
Sophie sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She stared down at her feet. “I just need a friend right now, James. Everything’s being complicated right now, can’t we just be simple?”
“Sorry.” James adjusted his glasses and smiled at her. “You’re my best friend, Soph, and I’m always here for you.”
“Thanks, Jim-Jams.” Sophie smiled back at him and watched him wince at the childhood nickname she’d given him long ago. “Now, what other food have you got? That cheese-on-toast was most certainly not enough to fill the gaping hole in my digestive system.”
“Your entire digestive is a gaping hole!” James teased. “A black hole, into which all snacks fall, never to be seen again! You know, when you went on holiday a while back, mum was still buying the same amount of food and she couldn’t understand why our cupboards were overflowing. It was because you hadn’t been round here raiding them for over a week!”
“Oh, shut your mouth and get me some cake, you silly boy.” Sophie stood up and pushed him out of the bedroom door towards the stairs.

Bob was searching his home, which was part of the church and yet wasn’t. To any normal human, it wasn’t there at all and most of the time, neither was Bob. To Bob, he was very annoyed by how often he had people being thoroughly bored in what was essentially his hallway.
He was searching for various diaries and personal effects that he would need for tomorrow. Sophie wanted to know the truth, which would mean he’d have to remember it all first. Oh, if only her mother were here! She’d remember it all. She’d always had such a good memory. Or at least it seemed as such. He’d let himself get old and he’d gotten forgetful. What was the point of remembering all these things that had no bearing on now? The price of eggs at the corner shop was worth remembering, the name of that Viking who’d gotten drunk and taken offence to Bob calling him a halfwit was not. Though he did remember old Oglaf, for some reason.
The diaries would have to do. Sophie’s mother had kept them while she had been here and she’d brought him a new one whenever she returned from her travels. He never read them. He’d been there for almost all of her original writings and he had no interest in anything new she had to say. He’d resolutely taken to just throwing them in a corner and forgetting about them. Right now, he was wishing it had always been the same corner.
A small grey cat sat and watched him at work. It mewed at him.
“Yes, Douglas, I had thought about that.” Bob said, in seeming reply.
The cat mewed once more.
“Well, I’ll tell her not to, won’t I?” He turned to face the cat and it cocked it’s head on one side, managing a marvellous look of withering skepticism. “Oh don’t look at me like that! She’s not going to want to go off looking for her. I mean, why would she? She’s a 16 year-old girl. They don’t do such things, do they? They sit and watch television and go to parties and court young men on that web-thing. 16 year-old girls do not go wandering off looking for mothers they’ve never met!”
The cat gave a final mew, before wandering off to the kitchen to find itself something to eat.
“The salmon in the fridge is not for you!” Bob called after it, knowing full well he would be ignored. He cursed his decision to endow Douglas with further intelligence than his normal cat-genes would have allowed. But then, he did serve as a decent sort of conscience. As long as the dilemma didn’t involve an outcome that would involve him getting fed, that is.
Bob went back to his searching and it wasn’t long before it bore fruit. He placed the two further diaries he’d found on the pile. The problem was, he wasn’t sure how many there actually were. She’d always managed to keep them fairly concise, he knew that. But even then, there was a lot of time to cover. And there’d be even more noteworthy events available to go into the more recent ones. He’d just have to search everywhere until there was nothing left to find. He looked at the vast expanse of mess and sagged at the prospect. There was no way he was going to get this all done before Sophie arrived tomorrow.
He decided a tea break was in order and retired to the kitchen. He found Douglas sat next to the kettle, with a plate before him and something a definite salmony pink hanging from his mouth.
“How you manage to do that without thumbs, I’ll never know.”
The cat gave him a smug grin and finished off the salmon. Bob opened a cupboard a pulled out a rather ancient looking mug. He hesitated a moment and turned to Douglas.
“A milky one for you, I assume?” The cat nodded and Bob grabbed a small tea cup from the same cupboard. He filled the kettle and put it on to boil and busied himself with putting tea bags in the mug and cup and adding sugar to his. He got the milk out of the fridge and set it down on the counter next to everything else. He pretended not to notice Douglas licking his lips as he did this.
The kettle boiled and Bob made the tea, making sure to make Douglas’ with about the same amount of milk as water. The tea bags were squeezed and went into the bin and the tea was stirred thoroughly before being taken back into what could vaguely be called the living room. Douglas followed along behind Bob and took up residence on the footrest, where he could easily reach his tea after Bob had set it down on the table.
Bob sipped his tea and vaguely stroked Douglas. “Do you think she’ll be happy with all this?”
Douglas mewed and lapped at his tea, making a face after discovering it was still a bit too hot.
“Me neither, old boy. To be honest, I really have no idea what she’ll think.” Bob sighed. “Maybe she’s just like her mother. Maybe she will go off to try and find her and these diaries will just encourage that. Maybe I’m just destined to not have a woman around this place.”
Douglas was too busy with his tea to give any sort of answer. Bob slurped at his and then looked puzzled.
“Oh, sod it all, I forgot to bring in the biscuits!”
Douglas watched him as he left the room and shook his head. He could tell what was going to happen and felt a bit sorry for Bob. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t excited at the prospect of tagging along on Sophie’s adventure. If she had one of course. But then, he was pretty sure she’d decide to. I mean, with his persuasion, why wouldn’t she?

NaNoWriMo 2010 – Day 9

Sophie awoke the next morning in a slightly more organised state than she had been in the previous day. She’d managed to go through her whole evening routine, so she awoke feeling refreshed, in pyjamas, and under her duvet. She headed downstairs, in search of cereal as usual. She didn’t bother to even think about getting dressed. The house was warm enough and there wasn’t going to be anyone about who counted as polite company. So she was very surprised when there was someone about.
Her parents were stood at the bottom of the stairs waiting for her.
“We heard you get up.” Her mother said.
“Shouldn’t you be at work?” Sophie managed in reply, through a haze of sleepiness, confusion and haphazard morning hair.
“We took the day off.” That was her father, looking serious. “Something important has come up.”
“Can’t it wait for a bit? Important things go better after a good breakfast, don’t they?”
“Um, I suppose so.” Her father ushered her into the kitchen. Sophie just stood around bewildered as a bowl of cereal was poured and thrust upon her.
“Milk?” She enquired. It was handed to her and she added it to her satisfaction, before putting it back in the fridge. She turned to head into the living room.
“Where are you going?” her mother demanded.
“To watch TV?”
“You can’t eat in the living room!”
“Why not? I usually do…” Sophie looked at them, the sleepiness was now virtually gone, but the confusion at their manner remained.
“Well, um…” her mother faltered for a reason and Sophie turned back to head into the living room, ignoring her mother’s protests.
“Hello.” said the figure sat in her living room.
“You’re in my spot on the sofa.” Sophie replied. “I want to sit there and eat my cereal in peace. With no crazy, bearded men stealing it from me.”
“Ah, yes. Sorry about yesterday. I think I handled all that a bit badly.”
“You couldn’t have handled it worse if you’d terrorized me with a knife. My seat?”
The figure rose apologetically and moved to the other sofa. Sophie sat down and began eating her cereal while she eyed the man suspiciously. Her parents remained standing just inside the doorway, not sure of what to do with themselves.
Sophie finished her cereal, dropped her spoon into her bowl, and cleared he throat before she spoke.
“So, who’s going to explain first?” she asked.
There was a lot of unsure noises from all three of her “parents” before her father finally spoke up.
“When we told you yesterday that you were adopted, there were a few parts that we left out.”
“Like him?” Sophie indicated the man sat on the other sofa.
“Yes.” her father went on, “Bob did get rather carried away there. He knew we would be telling you, you see, but he didn’t realised you were yet to learn the full story.”
“They were meant to contact me, but I sort of jumped the gun.” The man who Sophie’s father had identified as Bob put in.
“Right.” Sophie said. “But shouldn’t such things be handled through the adoption agency and suchlike? That’s how it usually happens on TV or whatever…”
“That is true.” Her father said, treading carefully with his words. “But it can’t really happen in our case.”
“Why not?”
“There wasn’t one.”
“Oh.” Sophie looked puzzled. She turned to Bob, “So you just handed me over?”
“Well, in a way, yes.” Bob said. “It was a bit more complicated, but it generally boils down to me asking your parents if they wanted you and them saying ‘yes’.”
Sophie looked at her parents. They gave her a pair of reassuring smiles. She looked at Bob. He gave her a thoughtful look, accented by crazy beard and slightly less crazy hair. Sophie looked at her feet.
“Why?”
“Ah,” Bob said, “That’s a slightly more complicated question. It’s all a bit tied up with where your mother is.”
“Don’t you mean, ‘who my mother is’?”
“Well, yes and no. Who your mother is, is the reason for where she is.”
“So where is she?”
“I don’t know.” Bob looked a little deflated.
“You don’t know?” Sophie was beginning to get annoyed.
“She’s been gone since you were born.” Bob began, “She only came back to have you, it was the first time I’d seen her in over a hundred years! And then she left again once you were born. She said you couldn’t go with her yet.”
“Wait, a hundred years?!”
“That’s right.”
“Ok… Moving on then, you said she’d be coming back for me?”
“Well, she didn’t specifically state that, but I assume so.”
“And I’m guessing you don’t know when that will be?”
“To be honest, no.” Bob looked deflated again. “It could be any time soon, or it could be another hundred years.”
“So, why did you give me away?”
“To stop her from taking you!”
“You gave me away, so… you didn’t have to give me away?”
“Exactly!” Bob looked vindicated, but it elicited a confused look from Sophie, so he elaborated a bit, “If I hid you here, she couldn’t come back and take you. But I would always know where you were.” He smiled at Sophie and then at her parents. “I left you in the hands of such good people.”
“Yes, you did.” Sophie smiled at her parents. She could see the tears they were trying to hold back. “So, why announce yourself now? Surely she could still return and take me away?”
“Ah, but you’re a woman now! You can make decisions! You can decide to stay!”
“But what if I didn’t decide to stay?”
“Oh.” Bob did that look again. “Would you do that?”
“I don’t know.” Sophie rubbed her forehead with her hand. This was all getting a little too much. “Let’s put that to one side for a moment. tell me more about you. Who are you?”
“I don’t know.”
Sophie almost hit him. “You don’t bloody know who you are?!”
“It’s been a very long time! I got old…” Bob was cowering back against the sofa now.
“How long?” Sophie looked at him shrewdly.
“Well, science seems to reckon it’s been a few million years. Personally, I don’t remember much before the Vikings…”
“Few… million… Vikings…” Sophie wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Are you trying to tell me you’ve been alive for the entirety of human history?”
“Give or take a bit. I’m not sure if we technically arrived till a bit after they did.”
“Arrived?”
“I’m not quite sure about that. Your mother can probably tell you some more about it.”
“If I ever meet her.”
“Oh, I’m sure you will. I mean, it’s not like either of you are going anywhere. You’ve got all the time in the world!”
“Wait, are you trying to tell me I’m immortal?”
“Well, obviously! You couldn’t be our daughter and not inherit some stuff.” Bob had a little satisfied grin on his face. Sophie sort of wanted to slap it off him. She turned to her parents, who gave her apologetic little smiles.
“So, this all makes perfect sense to you two?”
“Well,” her father began, “I know it all seems a bit far-fetched, but we’ve know Bob for years. Although he wasn’t always called Bob.”
“Wasn’t I? Oh no, I wasn’t, was I?”
“Yes, you were going by Joseph back when we first met you.”
“Oh my, yes! I’d had that one since the turn of the century. Can’t believe I didn’t get rid of it sooner. It seriously went out of vogue with the whole Stalin fiasco.”
Sophie sank back into the sofa, exasperated. Her mother (the normal one, not the one who was some kind of absentee, immortal being) came over and put her arm around her.
“I think this is all a bit much for her.” She said to the room at large. To Sophie, she said “Isn’t it dear?”
“Yes.” Sophie replied, weakly.
“Would you like a cup of tea?”
“Yes please, mum.” Sophie did a little smile, and was able to briefly forgot about the madness that was surrounding her and to instead just concentrate on her mother making her a cup of tea, just like she used to.
Her mother took tea orders from Bob and Sophie’s father as well and bustled into the kitchen. Sophie let herself sink into her own little world as Bob and her father sat and talked about “old times”. Her bubble was only briefly broken by her mother arriving back with the aforementioned cup of tea. She sat and drank it in silence, while madness whirled around her like a hurricane of crazy, bearded men and parents who were no longer what she had always thought them to be.

By the time she had finished her tea, she’d come to a decision. She put her cup firmly down on the coffee table, before remembering her mother’s insistence on using coasters and quickly put one between her mug and the table. She sat up and the conversation between Bob and her parents died away. They looked at her expectantly.
“I think I shall need some time to get to grips with this.” she said. “Bob, can I come to see you tomorrow? And maybe you could have a go at explaining all this a bit better?”
“Of course, my dear!” Bob replied. “When should I expect you?”
“Sometime in the afternoon. I think I’ll need a decent lie-in if I’m going to be listening to you babble for the rest of the day.”
“Sounds good to me. I’ll get a brew on.”
“Where do you live exactly?”
“The church.”
“Well, not exactly the church, but that’s the best place to turn up. Just arrive there and I’ll be with you in a jiffy.”
“I’m not even gonna bother to ask how you’ll know I’m there, that can be explained tomorrow.” Sophie looked to her parents, “Mum, dad, thank you for being my parents and for seemingly providing me with an upbringing away from someone I can only describe as mad. No offense, Bob.”
“Oh, none taken. I probably am a bit these days. Fashion’s always changing and sanity’s one of the hardest parts to keep up with. I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m a bit behind the times.”
“Right.” Sophie gave Bob a look of pained bewilderment, before turning back to her parents. “I’m going out for a bit.” She glanced down at her pyjamas. “Well, as soon as I’ve had a shower and gotten dressed. I’m sure you can handle seeing Bob out.”
“It’s been lovely to properly meet you, Sophie.”
“Yes, Bob, I’m sure it has.” With that, she exited the room and made her way upstairs to drown her confusion in hot water and strawberry-scented shower gel.

Better than Eunice, to say the least

Maria sat down on the sofa as Julian stood in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil. She was startled slightly by the small form of Toby appearing by her cheek, but smiled as she realised what it was. She gave her a gentle scratch behind the ear and Toby began to chew on Maria’s hair. She filed the flavour away in her feline mind. Ranked somewhere above dandelion, but nowhere near that bit of fried chicken she’d stolen when Julian had fallen asleep on the sofa a few weeks ago.

“I think she likes you.” said Julian as he came back into the room, brandishing a brace of cups. He handed one to Maria.

“What’s her name?”

“Toby.” Maria looked confused. “I didn’t name her. Apparently the girl who did was very stubborn that she wanted a cat called Toby. I haven’t had the inclination to change it.”

“You think it suits her?” Maria asked, pulling Toby down into her lap. Toby protested slightly at the loss of things to chew, but quickly discovered the end of Maria’s scarf.

“Oh, definitely.” Julian smiled. “She’s a damn silly cat, so she deserves a silly name.” Toby looked at Julian and you could almost see the derision in her eyes.

Praying won’t get you everywhere

Julian stepped out of his front door, musing on the fact that such an action presented him with boundless possibilities. He’d chosen the one that involved going to the shop. An inspection of his fridge had turned up the dilemma of there being no milk. He’d considered simply having his tea black, but an inspection of the tea jar had presented a further dilemma. A cup of hot sugar-water didn’t seem appetising, so he’d thrown on a jacket and headed out. It was a typical English summer day outside, meaning that the sun was hidden behind some rather threatening clouds and there was a breeze that was making its way out of the “bracing” range into just plain cold. He buttoned up his jacket in order to bolster what little warming effect it had. The shop was only ’round the corner; no need to go back in and grab something warmer. He ran through a mental list of what he wanted to get; tea, milk, some kind of biscuits? Or maybe some chocolate or a bag of sweets? He’d decide once he was in the shop. Maybe something would be on offer or merely catch his eye and spark a craving.

It had only been the once

Julian had been staring at a blank page in his notebook for the past few minutes. He’d almost put pen to paper a couple of times, but hadn’t managed to decide on even a first word. Trying to start in the middle hadn’t helped either. The same went for starting at the end. He put the pen down and pushed his chair back from his desk. Toby ninja-rolled away from the encroaching wheels, despite being a good foot away from them. Once she’d realised they weren’t actually coming to steamroller her, she turned her attention back to attacking an invisible speck on the carpet. It apparently wasn’t quite dead yet, so she was clawing at it with a sense of caution. Julian had been staring at Toby’s antics for almost a full minute before realising and getting to his feet. He made his way to the kitchen; a cup of tea would help. It’d give him that mild kick of alertness he needed. Or at least so he hoped. Really, he just needed to distract his brain in order to allow the spark of inspiration to sneak up on it and announce itself. He hadn’t smoked since he was 14, so a tea break would have to do.