SoCS Feb 20/16 – contractions

“Don’t we always stop off for a coffee when we finish our shopping?”

“Don’t I always say not to exaggerate?”

And so the stand off begins. I’m fuming because Sarah is faffing around whilst I’m loaded down with the shopping – mostly hers, I might add – because yet again, she has ‘one of her backs’. Really? I used to be sympathetic, but ‘one of her backs’ or ‘one of her heads’ seem to me to come on when it’s most convenient for her, and as I see it, least convenient for me.

She tilts her head, smiles beguilingly. I know that look. “Oh come on, Trish! Look – there’s a free table now. Why don’t I grab it and you get the coffee, and some of that lovely Victoria sponge?”

It was kind of a question, that tiny lilt at the end of the suggestion. But I know Sarah better than that. If I don’t do as she wants, she’ll sulk. Oh, not in an obvious way, but her “Oh, OK, if you haven’t got enough money’, or whatever it is she’ll say, will be laced with childish resentment.

I’ve had it. Completely had it. “No, I’m going home. I’m tired, there are too many people in town. I just want to go home right now and put my feet up.”

I walk off, heading for the car park. Selfish perhaps, because she’ll have to get the bus if she really is in need of a caffeine and sugar hit. But I have the shopping to carry. I’ve been at work all week. I’m done.

Rapid steps ring on the pavement behind me as I trudge up the hill. Bags are taken from my hand. I feel lighter, literally and figuratively. Hallelujah! She’s seen more than her own needs, just for a change. It’s been a long time coming.

“Hey Sarah, lovely to see you. let me help you with those bags.”

My heart sinks. Andy. My friend. Me – as in Trish. Not Sarah. God, are we that interchangeable?

I hate being a twin sometimes.

—–

Here’s this week’s entry into Stream of Consciousness Saturday! Please head on over to Linda’s blog to read all the delicious creativity that can be found there. This week, it’s all about contractions – Linda has invited us to start our entry with a contraction, and see where it takes us. I never expected to write about twins. I’m not one, although I have do have brothers and sisters. We are all spread out in both age and geography. Sussex for me, Worcestershire for one sister, Berkshire for another and my brother is currently working on the high seas as a musician on a cruise ship.

Thank you once again to Linda for creating this vibrant community!

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Fly in the Ointment

Fly_Agaric_fungus_-_geograph.org.uk_-_263319

Fly Agaric – Richard Crofts – Wikimedia Commons (click here)

Making breakfast hadn’t always been Valerie’s responsibility. When they had first married, Evan had insisted on waking her with a kiss, a purple tulip and a boiled egg, made just the way she liked it.

Valerie reminisced as she prodded the mushrooms sweating away in a desultory fashion in the frying pan. Those really had been the good times, sadly long gone, she though, even though today was only their first anniversary. What had happened to them, to Evan’s eagerness to delight her in every way possible?

She sighed so heavily that her breath rippled the surface of the tea steaming in the bone china cup waiting on the counter. Not her tea, of course. She couldn’t stand the stuff. Coffee was her poison, quite literally, in Evan’s oft-voiced opinion. He claimed that the almost black roast that she brewed several times daily was going to give her a heart attack.

Back then, she had laughed, taking all his criticisms lightly and in her stride. Bu now, now she had had her fill – more than – of his relentless digs. She had come to realise that his breakfast ritual had been his way of controlling her. Decaf bloody coffee, for God’s sake! Did he think she hadn’t noticed? And as for the egg – well it was just the way she liked it because that’s what he had made her believe over time. God, she craved a bacon sandwich, the bread fried until it was crispy and and oozing with grease. Not whilst Evan was in charge.

The mushrooms were done, at last. So much for coffee giving her a heart attack. She rather thought that the woodland fungi glistening on the plate might just do the trick.

Evan did so adore wild, organic food. And those red mushrooms were so pretty.

He’d love them.

Wouldn’t he?

What You Wish For – Magpie Tales

morning curtains

“Clara, this hotel really wasn’t what I was hoping for. I’m really rather disappointed. I thought the Swiss were all about precision, order and cleanliness? Aren’t net curtains supposed to cover the entire window?”

For goodness sake, Beatty! All you’ve done since we got here is moan. First it was the food, then it was the snow, then it was the language barrier. Now, it’s the hotel. Do you even know how much it costs to stay in hotels all the time? We’re running out of money!”

“But why didn’t you say? Graham always handled that side of things….”

“I’m telling you now. Honestly, do you think money grows on trees?”

“Oh, you’re so mean? You sound just like Graham!”

“Beatty, I’m sorry, but I’m starting to hav some sympathy with the man. You really are clueless.”

“And now I know what Jeremy meant when he told me how hard you are. Poor, poor man!”

————

Here’s my latest entry into Magpie Tales – In a similar manner to last week, I wrote two tales earlier for VisDare and Five Sentence Fiction, and thought it would be good to round them off with this little offering.

This week, we have first, Little Women, second, Little Men, and to round it off, this tale.  Did anybody get what they wanted?