Once upon a time, before husbands or kids, I worked with this crazy chick I will call Vickie. I call her that because that’s her name and unlike some written word, this is non-fiction.
Vickie carried a suitcase of a purse which was home to a grand sized wallet, assorted beauty accoutrements, Fat-Free Italian Salad Dressing, Listerine, and Vodka. She consumed all three of these liquids with commitment and enthusiasm.
As is the case with most crazies, Vickie was quite fond of me and we had a quirky, entertaining friendship that spanned over our years of working together … well, until the wife of her boyfriend threatened us with a gun. I pulled back from her a bit after that. (Ah, but that is another story.)
Vickie with her slightly buzzed, Listerine breath once talked me into going with her to see a Fortune Teller. It was a winter night and we wound down country roads before the days of iMaps or Siri, turning at stumps and old country stores to land in front of a trailer with a paint-peeling sign that read “Lady Wonder - Predictor of the Stars.” The fortunes were $15, but if you paid with a $20, the change became a tip.
Vickie went back to Lady Wonder’s office/bedroom for her session and I sat in the waiting room/kitchenette/dining room combo and wondered what exactly I had gotten myself into. Vickie came out with mascara running down her cheeks. She didn’t reveal her fortune. She said it was bad and that she didn’t want to hurt me with her karma. I don’t remember much about my own reading other than during Lady Wonder’s chanting trance, she opened her eyes and told me she liked my earrings.
I took another job not long after our fortune search and left behind Vickie, Lady Wonder, and my wild side.
***
Years later in a creative writing class I tried to re-create this story much as I did above. During group feedback, I got pummeled in review by a peer who was highly agitated that my story didn’t have an ending, lacked clarity in plotlines, and to top it off, she threw in that after reading my work, she felt “exasperated.”
Without disagreeing with her, our writing coach taught us about the words between the spaces. He explained the concept that not all writing wraps things up in tidy packages, that the ideas and thoughts that the reader gleans happens not just in the words, but in the spaces. He said that the unsaid speaks. Then the class went to break and we all had to chew on our vending machine crackers and yet another writing principle to practice and master in this difficult craft.
***
On a Sunday this past July, (I am not sure exactly which Sunday,) I had coffee with my husband, then church, and brunch with Ryann. It was a hot, sunny North Carolina day and Ryann went to the pool. I got fitted for some new running shoes and even though it was a July day as described above, I ran in my new tires and I felt light and free.
I talked to Riley who was away in college up in Asheville and she sounded so happy. I walked my dog and after dinner, Ryann and I splurged for frozen yogurt. When we pulled up to the yogurt shop, there was a jammin’ song on the radio. I don’t remember the song, I only remember that Ryann and I spilled out of the car and danced with abandon in the parking lot.
That night I went to bed with the happy sigh of the satiated. Nothing special about a date that I can’t clearly remember, just life in between the words, life in the spaces.
Here’s to another year, my friends, a space marker in time, enjoy.