"Rise and Shine" - an excerpt

     That was as far as she had gotten with it.  Summers on Lake M went along pretty much the same. Gaye spent a committed amount of time hoping to run into someone to play with and wound up riding her bike to the park with a heavy wooden teeter-totter that gave her splinters. The last time she met a kid to take a side of it he bailed on her the last second while she was up high. Her ass hit the dusty ground with such force that it gave her a headache that started at her lower back. The kid’s name was Michael and as he ran off laughing at his cruel joke, Gaye whispered: “You're an asshole, Michael” and a splinter jammed into her hand as she rolled off her side of the evil playground toy. This park was tucked toward the back of the campground and only had three things: a teeter-totter, tire jungle gym and monkey bars. No swings. Swings are a perfectly good playground toy to enjoy solo but Gaye had no such luck. This playground was an after thought and except for that asshole, Michael, Gaye felt like it was always abandoned. Van Gogh would have painted this playground because it added to his sense of loneliness and solitude. Also, no kids were looking for a park anyway because they were enjoying being on vacation on a lake! A lake where boats zoomed by pulling skiers while others lounged on the pier chatting idly with friends moving happy hour ever closer to noon.

     Seeking distractions from boredom made Gaye take risks. One risk was to take a severe, gravel-lined turn at top speed after a steep hill while hoping to skid out of control and land in the hospital. One time she wiped out and had a leg full of raw skin and puberty. She was hoping for a broken femur that could land her in the emergency room and fill her days with casts and attention. In fact, Gaye seemed oddly indestructible. Good health was boring. Where were the surgeries, speech impediments, concerned looks from counselors? The days passed and then Gaye turned 14 and an end to summers on Lake M.

     Gaye arrived in her freshman year in high school. She’d lost all desire to spend hours driving in a car with her parents, staring at them from across the dinner table, peering into the scratchy black and white 12” TV that almost showed a couple of local stations.  In fact, Gaye was developing a sense of disdain toward their lifestyle…those quirky cottage days that weren’t like everyone else around the area.  She’d watched those families drive up with friends and beer and boats and skis - though Gaye barely knew how to ski. She could float on a raft with her dog.  But the days of Barbies were long gone. She’d rummaged through the leftover MAD magazines and listened to Casey Cason’s top 40 countdown for the last time.  Now she was in to drinking and friends and big hair.  Nothing else seemed to exist.  She stopped going to rehearsals or seeing plays.  Something had changed. Hatred and embarrassment for the strange sort of life she lived was ever growing. The life of church-going people was no longer making sense.  Gaye sought out the one other person in a two-mile radius who was as much of an outsider as she felt. Another summer misfit. She found her.

Job Hunting 101

The letterhead was typical of a university and had a bit of conformity with a flare of the liberal. Rose knew that most rejection letters looked like this. Bad news came in the US Mail. Good news, like a request for an interview, was performed by a HUMAN, namely an Administrative Assistant, who called and asked that you come in to speak about your awesomeness. The form letter, however, was easier for the sender, it was a quick way to ruin someone’s day and not have to be there to clean up the mess. The form letter exists to prove that Company is not crass and aloof, that Company cared that you tried to think you were going to be considered for the job. It was a more civil way to do business and relay that you are not being picked for the team. Don’t take it personally, though, it only means that you have to keep on applying.

Rose wondered if it was her resume. Had she said too much in the cover letter? Not enough? Rose knew that some people lied, should she? Was it time to clean up the resume again? The Resume: that illusive one-sided form that explained your limitations and lack of focus. Question:  why did you party too much in college and not finish magna cum laude? That would have looked good on your resume, Rose thought. And what about the flatness of “B.A., English” as a declared major? Rose wondered if it might have been better to go for the business degree…or the nursing degree in spite of being mathematically challenged. As Rose stared into the University’s crest and wondered about their font, she considered the events that had brought her to this point…of once again not getting The Job. Rose had done…stuff…though apparently none of which translated to her resume.