An Unexpected Response

[Angela]

She is in the overly bright church fellowship hall, holding a paper plate and plastic utensils while she stands in line at a potluck, weighing the merits of lasagna over mac and cheese, and wondering if it might be a good idea to hit the dessert table before settling, which is a strategy that ensures you will not miss the chocolate cake. 

He is the Deacon, and ahead of her in line; his wife died a month ago.

Having forgotten to pick up a napkin, he turns and asks her to please hand him one, and she inquires,

“How are you?”

in the automatic fashion one uses to be polite, without really engaging in a conversation.

“Lonely,”

he replies, and stares at her eyes for an unsettling, very direct moment, and she notices that his are a strange greenish color, with dark blue rims, and she can think of nothing to say other than

“I’m sorry.”

Later, when she is walking across the parking lot, heat lightening is hopscotching across the clouds, and the wind is making bright drifts of sand from the road roll like waves.  She listens for thunder climbing the stairs with heavy feet, and considers the dangers of being outside, and alone, with the warm and cool air mixing across her skin and in her hair, under a fierce and waiting sky.

[Geni Stratton]

The vivid imagery of the last paragraph made me shiver in anticipation of the threatening  internal storm. Nice!

[Judy Thompson]

that last paragraph seems so much an external metaphor for the internal emotions she must have been going through;  one word, and one direct look appears to have (understandably) have unsettled her into near speechlessness, and that beautifully rendered walk across the parking lot is the perfect metaphor for what might be going on inside her.  Sometimes all it takes is a word, a look,  and if you're unprepared for it, it can set you ablaze. 

[Stephen Torelli]

That unsafe feeling spelled out in the last paragraph is perfectly written.

[Bill Floyd]

A bracing change in circumstances relieves folks of the responsibility for pat bullshit responses.  The lightning "hopscotching" is an image any writer should adore.  

[Teresa]

I wonder if the deacon's answer was "fine" for that first month then he got fed up and told the truth.  The last words "...under a fierce and waiting sky" represent the uncertainty of life, how vulnerable we all are -- at least for me.  Life is just a storm waiting to happen.  Wonderful juxtaposition of everyday life in the safe fellowship hall and "heat lightening...hopscotching across the clouds..."

[Gita]

Lonely.    Bald honesty catches us unawares, doesn't it?  And what then? Is there a perfect response? What if one were to say, "I am too, and my spouse is alive."  Would that even be possible in the fellowship hall with plate in hand?

I like that the narrator steps outdoors. The heat lightning and sand drifts seemed like  perfect counterparts to the edgy conversational exchange with the deacon. Fave.

 

[Toby Tucker Hecht]

Wonderful last paragraph.  Ties everything together.  Please continue...

[Judy Thompson]

 First reaction here, was, 'whoa',  and the second was, I would love to read What Happens in Chapter Two. 

How careful, how precise,  how good this is.

[Mike Handley]

Really, really excellent. Love the thunder steps and her atmospheric, emotional storm.

[Robert Crisman]

This was marvelously done, and having the quotes stand alone was inspired. It heightened the drama of the story in much the same way as the lighting in close-ups did in '40s movies. Top flight.