Here is the next chapter! Oh, and just to clarify, I kept Lex up until 2:30am, not 2am. Happy, Lex? JOKES! Boy, we went around in Decagons while I was typing this up, eh?
StrawberriiSuzu, you definitely kept me going to type up this story with all those smilies! :D XD XP :P O.O X)
School is has started so I apologize if I start to update late and the chapters seem horribly rushed. I really am sorry! It's just that Semester 2 is usually the busy week, and yeah… Any improvements needed, please tell me. I am happy to take advice. I don't really mind criticism, but try not to take it too harshly, and don't base it on opinion. You know what I mean?
I mean like…Don't criticise this story just because you either hate me or you hate Contestshipping, criticise things like my writing if I write terribly etc. You get it? Do you? Do you?
On an even happier note, I already have 3 favouriters and 10 followers! May not seem like much, but I honestly feel so accomplished if I compare it to Special Signs! YAY! Oh, and for Wednesday, I need everyone to cheer for the Blues for the third State of Origin! Please! It cannot be 8 years in a row! We must win!
Anyways, here is another chapter. Oh, and for those who forgot, Norman is May's dad, Caroline is her mum and Max is the brother!
At David Jones, Thursday, with May.
There were only so many times you could dust a handbag display before you start to go a tiny, little bit mental. Especially when there was no dust to begin with! But the rules were when there were no customers around, and you were at the handbag side of the shop, the only thing you could do was make the handbags neat and tidy.
For May, tonight had been worse than usual. Tonight, it has been so quiet that Dawn – the other worker – got sent to help over in the shoe section. So with no customers to serve, and no Dawn to talk to, the past hour had gone super slow.
Plus, everything was neat. Tidy. Dust-free. But May had to continue faux-dusting and faux-cleaning until her shift was over, at 9PM.
It was not until May was on her 15 minute tea-break that May got a chance to properly work on her next paragraph for the tandem-story. It was good to finally have a clear head. Disgusting as it was, May had to say that the nasal spray did the job.
When May checked her email in the morning, there was the usual batch of unfunny forwards and the requisite chain letter from Dawn, an email from Drew Haydens, and two emails from Leaf. May felt her heart skip a beat as she noticed Drew's email. He emailed her? She felt her face heat-up but then it hit her like that. It must have been the tandem-story.
May opened Drew's email and initially thought his paragraph was meant as a joke. But as May sat there, May realised he was entirely serious. Drew had responded to May's opening paragraph complete and utter boy's-own-adventure-style crap.
May was shocked. Understanding that Drew wouldn't want to write a female character, May deliberately introduced Christopher. Drew could have taken Christopher anywhere, but he just disregarded him. Disregarded that entire opening paragraph for some Mad Max character who parachutes with a knife between his teeth and a gun strapped to his back. And, hello, only a total dickhead would parachute with a knife between his teeth.
This meant WAR.
May decided that she would type up her third paragraph when she got home. It was the best option if she wanted to reload her weapons for the next battle.
When May walked in to her house, she found her Dad – shirt sleeves rolled up and tie loosened – sitting at the kitchen table drinking a glass of red wine in the dark. The only light in the house was the one May had just turned on in the hall. Norman's eyes were underlined with dark clouds and his unshaven face and messed-up hair must have belonged to someone else. Not Norman – the upbeat, wise-cracking Doctor everyone adored.
"Ah, May…" Norman sighed, running his right hand through his hair before draining the last of the wine into his mouth.
"Why are you sitting in the dark?" May asked. She flicked the light switch on, which betrayed the scene around Norman. The unstacked, unwashed dinner plates. The discarded serviettes. The wine-in-a-cask thing he seems to have going on. The Tina Turner background music that May had only just noticed.
"Geez, has Mum seen this mess?" May said, looking at the kitchen.
May didn't wait for Norman to answer. Instead she was heading for the fridge in the naïve hope that maybe there would be some leftovers from tonight's dinner. A serving of roast or spaghetti bolognaise that Caroline might have cling-wrapped for May, knowing that May would be hungry when she got home.
"Goodness gracious me, don't tell me you didn't leave me anything. I'm absolutely starving!" May said over her shoulder.
"Your Mum left beef stroganoff for us all. Your serve is in the back, behind the sausages." Norman sighed.
May immediately spotted the blue Tupperware container, but she continued pushing jars and containers around on the hunt for more goodies. "I thought Mum said she was going to get me some low-fat Frûche thingies this week. Leaf has been having them at school and they are totally-" May started.
"May, sit down. I need to talk to you." Norman interrupted.
"Dad, I just walked in from work. Can't I please just have something to eat?" May groaned.
"I don't know how else to say this… Your mother's gone." Norman said while May was still busy inspecting the fridge.
May turned and stared open-mouthed at her dad.
"I'm so, so sorry. She moved out. Permanently." Norman said, looking down at his feet.
At first May was silent and she just stood there, one hand leaning on the open fridge door, the other hand holding a chunk of sausage, staring at her father as though she may have misheard. Caroline left them. But that didn't make sense. They ignore each other for a while, sure. Occasionally they sleep in separate bedrooms. But she doesn't leave properly. Seriously. That's not what she does.
"This is because of the police station thing. You kicked her out. You kicked her out because she lost her license. She wasn't even drunk, Dad! Not really. Ok? I was there. I was the one who was there to pick her up. It was a miscalculation, that's all. She was hardly…" May said, pointing at her Dad with a sausage.
"May. May. I didn't kick her out. This isn't about the police-station situation. Sometimes relationships just don't work. No matter how hard you try." Norman said. He was standing up, his hands out in a quietening gesture. He took a step towards May. May took a step backwards.
"But you haven't tried! There's just you asking why we had to eat tuna savoury so often, and her complaining that you're never here. I don't call that trying." May accused.
"Well, your mum feels that she needs a break." Norman's voice sounded strangled. May watched as he loosened his already loose tie and wiped sweat off his forehead.
"What does that mean?"
"May, I – I don't know. I don't have the answers."
"Well, it's shitty."
"Yes, it is. It's shitty." Norman said, nodding his head.
For a moment they both stood there in silence.
"You've had fights before. You always get over it. Remember last year? She went to Aunty Lillian's. Well, maybe you just need to go over there. Take her to a movie. She always wanted to go to Gold Class and you…" May said hopefully.
"This time it's different. She's not at Aunty Lillian's." Norman said as he shook his head.
Norman walked up to the kitchen bench and slid a piece of paper towards May.
May stared at the note. Flicked it open with one finger. It was in her Mum's handwriting. A phone number and address. So Caroline actually stood in that kitchen and wrote out those details. And then packed her bags. And then left.
"She wants you to call her." Norman stated.
May stared at the note; her mind went forwards and back and forward and back – trying to comprehend what she was being told. What does she mean she needs a break?
"You don't get to have breaks. You're not meant to have break. There are no breaks. And what? She was so desperate to get away from us that she couldn't even wait for me to get home from work?" May was not sure who she was saying this to. She looked at her Dad, but he just stared back at her.
May crumpled the note in her hand and threw it to the floor.
"She loves you very much. And the last thing we want is for this to impact your school work. Year 11 is a big year and…" Norman pointed out.
"I'm in year 12, Dad." May said the words through gritted teeth and looked at her Dad with loathing.
"Oh no, right, right. No, I knew that. I'm just…" Norman looked at May with apologetic eyes. But it was too late.
"Whatever." May turned her back on her Dad and started to walk out of the kitchen.
"We both want you to know – it's important that you know – that this isn't about you and Max." Norman said.
It was the mention of Max's name that made May stop in her tracks and turn back around.
"He is staying the night next door. We have to find a way to tell him." Norman said in a weary tone as he ran his fingers through his hair.
May abandoned the beef stroganoff and headed for the safety and familiarity of her bedroom. As May walked through the door, the first thing she saw was her open laptop and Drew's paragraph still there, staring at her. It was the last thing she felt like doing, but it was May's turn and she didn't really have a choice but to type up her paragraph.
So, May sat down, reread Drew's ridiculous offering about a plummeting assailant who likes the taste of cutlery, and tried to get the story back on track.
Elizabeth slipped out of bed, once again ignoring the pale-blue Versace silk robe and slippers that Christopher had bought for her as an anniversary gift last September in Paris. She sits at her dressing table, feeling the velvet cushion on her skin, and slowly caresses the antique fittings and solid gold handles. She stares at her reflection and begins to brush; pulling her mother's ivory-handled brush through her long auburn hair. One. She lifts the brush and pulls it through her hair again. Two. This time she feels resistance, a knot. She pulls harder. Three. Her eyes wander over to the photograph of him. Christopher. She is beginning to understand the appeal of living in a fantasy world. The appeal of his complete rejection of everything real and sane, instead choosing to immerse himself in a world where he was the hero and never failed to save the day. The only time she heard the name 'May Eyes' Eislander these days was during the monthly visits to the insane asylum before the staff had given him his tablets.
That is Tandem-Story paragraph 3! Tell me about WAR! Except, it seems that May's weapon is a hair-brush….Oops. My bad! Hair-brush versus parachute sounds cool, though! That's why I used the idea!
I know, this chapter is actually short, and I am really sorry! I will make the next one longer, or at least I will try! Thanks to all those reviewers, especially Champbybirth and eeveeluvr, because you two must literally be sick of me! Repeat, SICK!
Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and please review! And if necessary, please favourite/follow! REPEAT! IF NECESSARY!
Thanks!