This month’s theme for the blog chain is relationships. Not speaking of romantic relationships, but the relationships between fictional characters.
The goal of this month’s BC is to…
“Show a character’s approach to relationships in a short scene. A harmless exchange between mother and daughter? A submissive character overwhelmed by a dominant partner? A passionate lover’s quarrel? A forlorn, unrequited letter?
Use your characters’ interaction to show the dynamics of their relationship, show how they’re growing together or growing apart, or just have silly fun. Character descriptions at the beginning are forbidden this time around–let them speak or act for themselves!”
So, I’m going to choose yet another scene from my WIP, ‘To be Maria’. Lights turn down. Everyone in the theatre grows silent.
A loud knock at the front door startles her from her thought process. Could that be Maria, or Kirsten, or dad? A louder knock sounds upon the door. That can’t be Kirsten. She’s away with her mom at some hair styling thing for the evening. And Maria is with Shondra. It couldn’t be Carly. She lives south of Westbank, and that is a good twenty minutes away from here. And dad–he’s probably sitting at a bar, half way to drunkenness by now.
“Anya, it’s Patrick,” Sophia yells from the living room.
Anya heaves out a heavy sigh. “Ugh, what is he doing here?” she says under her breath. She reluctantly makes her way over to the front door.
Patrick’s eyes bulge open when he sees her in the slinky dress. “Where did you get that dress?”
Anya can tell by the sharpness in his tone that he is not impressed. “I bought it,” she says.
Patrick folds his arms across his chest. “Yeah, with whom?”
Anya purses her lips. That is none of your damn business. “No one. I bought it myself, with my own money. I have enough money in my bank account to afford one item of expensive clothing.”
The suspicious look on his face tells Anya that he does not believe her lie.
“Well, I’ll let you know, that dress does not make you look attractive.”
Anya feels the anger rise within. “How do you know, Patrick? You’ve never seen me in anything other than baggy clothing. So, you have no right to judge me like that. And, I don’t care what you think. I love this dress and I feel good in it. So, if you have a problem with it, then you will just have to deal with it,” she almost shouts.
Patrick recoils. “What has come over you, Anya? I mean–why are you suddenly friends with Maria Hernandez and–Carly? Carly was so mean to you throughout Junior High. And Senior High wasn’t hard enough for her to change her attitude.”
“Until today,” Anya says.
“Anya, get with it. She and Maria are only being nice to you because they want what you have. They want to bring you down so they can get what they want.”
Anya’s heart flutters. It’s not true. They wouldn’t have spent the money on my clothes if they didn’t care about me. “That’s so not true, Patrick.”
The look on his face darkens. “Yes it is. And you know it is, Anya. Why the hell would you even want to be friends with Carly after the way she treated you? And Maria–she’s quite the slut. Popularity isn’t as glamorous as you think it is. I wish you would realize that.”
Anya shoots him a furious look. “How would you know, Patrick? The only friend you’ve had since you came to this country was me.”
Patrick’s face flushes red. “And I’m not good enough, Anya? Who let you sleep at his parents’ house after all the times your brother beat you? Who took you out for dinner after Mr. Hawthorne told us that we were both accepted into his advanced acting class? Who spends all of his free time with you?”
“Patrick–I had nothing to do with Maria’s plot to get Carly to do what she did. She did it all on her own. And now that I think about it, I’m glad they did decide to take a chance on me, because if they hadn’t, I would still be miserable. And, Maria is one of the nicest girls I’ve ever met. She is so bold and confident. I’ve always wanted to be that kind of person, and now I finally can. I want to be just like Maria.”
Patrick’s lips tremble and his eyes glaze over. “Anya–I came here to apologize for the way I treated you earlier. But now I don’t feel any remorse. I can’t believe you are willing to throw away a good friendship. I don’t mean anything to you, do I.”
Anya averts her gaze to the old, wool slippers on her feet. Her feet start to sting from the coldness, but she is to confused and angry to care. She breathes out a heavy sigh, her breath lingering in the air.
“Well, that answers my question,” Patrick says, his voice slightly hoarse. “I’m going now. Until you figure out who your real friend is, don’t call me and don’t talk to me.” He turns away and then strides down the short, narrow pathway, disappearing around the corner.
Take a moment, or two, and read my fellow bloggers’ posts.