Sean McKlusky's Pick
"This is well constructed flash with excellent characterization and good dialog. I'm more than happy to dive into the slush pile after this one!"
It's a story about survival.
That's what he says.
Then he says, "This is a story about coming to grips with grief."
I wonder which it is. Can it be both?
I've tuned him out already. I'm only here because of Jane. Now that's a story about survival. How we've survived this long I'm not sure. And "coming to grips with grief" says a lot about our relationship too, I guess.
I'm the only man in the audience. It occurs to me I'm not exactly in this guy's target demographic. Jane is. She laps this drivel up. Thinks it's meaningful, poignant. I just want to know whether it's going to be an inspiring enough story that she'll want to have sex later. I should at least hear what the story is in case she wants to talk about it first.
So here's the guy's story.
They were newlyweds, this guy (William) and his girl (Lynn). They had been high school sweethearts.
At this point, someone dims the lights and a slideshow starts up.
We see pictures of the two youngsters going to the prom, to homecoming. William tells us they went off to college together. He studied Geography; she studied Education. She was going to be a teacher.
"Going to be," I think. That can't be good. Jane actually reaches over and squeezes my hand. I squeeze back. I think her squeeze means, "Oh no, something bad is going to happen." My squeeze means, "I hope this is not too depressing or I am out of luck."
Finally, we get to the wedding. William and Lynn are the happiest couple on earth. They decide to go on a blowout honeymoon to Italy before they start new jobs and their lives in the "real world" together. He pauses. OK, this is the tragedy we've been waiting for.
He stops the projector at a picture of Lynn standing on a rocky outcrop overlooking the ocean. He says softly, "This is the last picture that was taken of Lynn. Less than a minute later, a large wave crashed around her sweeping her off the rocks. I tried climbing down the rocks, but I couldn't reach her. I watched as she was carried out. I watched as the waves covered her face. Later, the Italian authorities recovered her body."
I turn to look at Jane and see that she's crying. She takes her hand away from mine to wipe her eyes. I'm thinking that William needs to turn this story around quick or it will be another bad night for me.
William tells us about calling Lynn's mother, about the inquest, about having to come back to America without his bride. Then he says the thing that I think is what set me off.
He says, "It gives me some comfort knowing that Lynn died on the happiest day of her life. You can tell in that picture how happy she is."
This is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. I want to ask him how happy she looked as she was floating out to sea or when the waves covered her face. I want to ask him whether this means her death makes any more sense.
That's when the inspirational part of the story kicks in. He tells us all about how this tragedy has made him closer to God. He tells us it has given him a mission to make sure people appreciate all of the loved ones in their lives everyday. He tells us it has inspired him to write the book that has been picked up by a major publisher, has been optioned for a TV movie, and will be available after the presentation for $19.95. Signed.
On second thought, maybe that's what set me off.
I've been writing for twenty years and have yet to sell a story, a novel, or so much as a one-liner to Reader's Digest. William loses his wife in the drink and he's got what I've been working for my entire life. All the crap jobs I've had to take to make ends meet when I thought I could still make a go of writing come back to me in a flash. The respectable job Jane made me take when it became clear that my writing couldn't support us, or even me, suddenly feels even more outrageous.
I don't hear the last part of the talk.
Everyone winds down and he starts hawking his book. I tell Jane we should go buy a copy. She seems pleasantly surprised. We walk down to the front.
"Hi, William," I say. "Nice speech."
"Thank you. I just hope Lynn's story can be an inspiration to others."
"Can I ask you just one question, though?"
"Sure."
"How'd you manage to save that picture?" I ask.
"Excuse me?" William responds.
"Well, here you two were. Standing on the rocks. You snap the shot, then the water comes, taking Lynn with her. You said you tried to get down to her, but you couldn't."
"It was a sheer cliff. I couldn't make it down."
"Did you try to jump?"
"No, I would have been killed too."
"So you just stood there holding on to the camera, watching her go?"
"What should I have done? I don't understand what you're getting at."
"Just this, Bill. If Jane here were being swept under the water, I damn well think I would have chucked the camera, jumped in the ocean and drowned trying to save her."
I look over at Jane and smile. She is ashen. She grabs me by the arm and tugs me out of the room. She yells a hearty, "I'm so sorry," as we leave.
As we step outside, Jane slaps me. An honest-to-God slap across the face like you see in movies.
"What the hell?" I yell.
"You are a horse's ass, you know that," she says and walks off.
It is a story about survival.
It apparently is not a love story.
Jason Stout is a husband and father of four (with number five on the way) originally from a small town in the Midwest — French Lick, Indiana. After receiving his BA in English with distinction from Indiana University-Bloomington, he attended law school and currently practices employment law for a Fortune 250 company in Atlanta, Georgia. He enjoys writing more than practicing law, but "lawyering" can be fun and pays the bills.