Original Ladiesbingo Prompt: "Biography / Autobiography"
If the universe was trying to disprove Abby's hypothesis that it hated her, then it was doing a rather shoddy job of it. The exact moment she'd gotten her papers arranged and pulled out her sparkly blue gel pen, her mother's cell phone had started ringing. Even from two rooms away, the sudden burst of sound had caused her shoulders to tighten and the pen to slip from her hand.
"Oh no," her mother said, pushing her chair out and hurriedly standing up. "Sorry, Abby, but that's for me."
Abby gritted her teeth.
I'd never have guessed.
As her mother hurried out of the kitchen, Abby looked back down to her pile of papers. Settled near the top was a list of ten questions that Mr. Liebowitz had put together. So long as she got them answered, then she could write about anything else that she wanted.
"Yes, I have been looking over the latest manuscript. You would think that she'd give me time to glance through the old one before faxing me another."
Abby's stomach tightened. Would she even have the chance to answer one?
Her eyes wandered to the microwave's digital clock.
There's more than enough time, she reminded herself. She squeezed her pen, which Claudia had insisted was good luck when she'd given it to her, until her knuckles were whiter than mayo. So much time!
Abby wouldn't go so far as to call herself the queen of procrastination. That said, she'd certainly be in the running should Claudia ever abdicate her throne. But her assignment was due in exactly three weeks. If not for her choice in subject, then she just might have started a little later.
You could always do someone else. I bet everyone's writing about their parents.
Abby forced the thought back. Her teacher had never said that their subject had to be original. Besides, just who else that she knew could she write about? Focusing her biography project on Anna would be too much like writing about herself. Convenient as it'd be to walk next door, picking Kristy was a no go. Why risk making her head any bigger? As for her other BSC pals, finding a time where they could meet up was a Herculean feat considering all the sports practices, school clubs, and sitting jobs they'd have to work around.
There was always the option of writing about someone she didn't know. All she'd have to do was open a book or two. She wasn't that desperate!
"Yes, I'll have the latest revisions to you first thing tomorrow morning."
Well, not yet anyway.
Abby took in a long breath before slowly releasing it.
Three weeks, she reminded herself. I still have three weeks.
It wasn't as if they had to get everything done tonight. This sort of assignment took time, after all - especially certain questions.
They wouldn't have been issues had she interviewed her sister or friends. Like Abby herself, Anna's time with her father had been brief. Her friends' lives had never intersected with his.
Her mother? Well, Abby didn't want to imagine what life would be like had they not crossed paths!
Her father's face flashed through her mind. Whoever said time healed all wounds had clearly been speaking out of their butt. Oh, the pain wasn't as sharp as it was when she was nine years old, but the sting was steady as ever. Her father's absence was an open wound that she had to constantly keep bandaged. That her mother and sister bore the same scars didn't change the fact that she herself still woke up in a sweat some mornings with bits of dreams still swirling in her head.
Like most dreams, they were largely incomprehensible to the waking mind, subconscious stuff and nonsense. Just last week, she'd dreamed that SMS had been converted into a toy factory. Everyone had thrown Lincoln Logs at each other and half the school, Abby included, had been able to fly. Yet what had stuck out most in her mind was her father dropping Abby and Anna off. Like everyone else in her dream, he'd been dressed in a yellow and purple jump suit (perhaps that was what should have tipped her brain off; Stacey would sooner eat an entire box of Hostess snowballs then be seen alive in something like that). Goofy as it had looked, his smile had been warm as ever, his touch firm as the chair she was now sitting on.
Abby bit her lip. Why not gather up her papers and return to her bedroom? No one would get bit if she'd just let sleeping dogs lie.
No!
If she left now, there was no telling when she might get the chutzpah to ask these sorts of questions again. Speaking about her father wouldn't bring him back, but knowing what her parents' first date had been like just might numb the aching pulse in her temples.
And hey, by the end of this mess, she'd have a manuscript of her own for her mother to read over! Why miss out on a "win-win"?
"Sorry about that," Abby's mother said as she stepped back inside the kitchen. "I never thought that call would end!"
You and me both!
Abby slapped on a smile. "Are you ready, Mom?"
She pushed her bangs back. "As I'll ever be." She sat back down. "Now, what did you want to ask me?"
"Well," Abby said, pointing the tip of her pen across the table, "nothing too big. Just what it was like when you were born."
Her mother raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"I mean, was it scary when you came into the light? Did it hurt when the doctor slapped you?"
Abby's mother shook her head. "I'd tell you if I knew."
"Hey, I had to ask!" She looked back down to the list of questions. "Well then, let's hope that this one is a little easier. Mom, what's your earliest memory?"
Her mother tapped her chin. "You'll have to give me a moment to think about that."
"Take your time," Abby replied. While she saw Anna and her friends every day, there were many nights where she was in bed before her mother reached the front door. Why waste this kind of opportunity? She'd bring up her father in due time. Until then, all she could do was lean her chair back and watch the Rachel Stevenson show.