Lisa771

OPENING SCENE - Introduces the antagonist, protagonist, the protag’s new love interest, the contemporary setting, tone, and the primary conflict.

 

   Another anniversary. Eight years.

   On any other Saturday, Emily would pull her boots on and gather kindling. She’d snap a hundred branches, then come inside and light a match under all the wood. With the kitchen radio on, she’d bake something, scones or a coffee cake, all while Neil slept. But today, they were already up. No fire to start. No bread to bake.

   Keeping with tradition, they left their phones on the kitchen counter. They rode Neil’s red Harley, a model from the 80s that he kept in pristine condition. He took a main highway for a while and then got off, onto the quieter, lonelier roads, roads with fine, rustic names like Honey Hollow and Fiddlers Creek. Emily could smell the countryside, fragrant with fields of spent corn, pockets of cool forest. Ribbons of mist hovered over the ponds, but soon the full heat of the sun would warm them to obscurity.

   By midday they’d have an appetite. Maybe find ribs and cornbread from a roadside pit and some dark ale at a brewery. Or steak at an old tavern. Last year they stopped at a fieldstone inn, an unforgettable place, with pink begonias dangling plump and vigorous from all the window boxes. They’d sat near the fireplace, at a candle-lit table with white linen and a silver bud vase. Portraits of eighteenth-century gentlemen and gentlewomen peered from the walls with unwavering eyes, and that day a truckload of oysters came in, cold and briny with the ocean’s liquor. Soon enough the waiter became a storyteller, and an animated one at that, recounting tall tales of Civil War generals and novelists and infamous whores who’d once sat in that very room.

 

   They passed the “Welcome to Hazleton” sign. That’s when Emily’s stomach cramped. She tapped Neil on the shoulder and told him to pull over. She climbed off the Harley and headed for a thicket of trees.

   “Are you alright?” he said.

   She kept walking.

   “Please tell me you didn’t eat that old bacon,” he said. She heard in his tone a reprimand, the disorder of the house, the messy, unorganized refrigerator she really should have cleaned out a long time ago.

   She took refuge behind a shrub. Then her stomach constricted hard, uncontrollably. She bent down to relieve herself, the acid burning its way up her throat. She spat when she could, coughing between breaths, and prayed it would end. Minutes passed and she stood up, holding onto a tree. She kept her head down in case the nausea returned, and stared at the leaves on the ground, so vibrant, tie-dyed with reds and chiffon yellows, oranges and lime greens. A woolly bear caterpillar wiggled its way across the sticks and dregs of the mulch. She took note of its fuzzy, brown stripe and put a hand to her belly, wondering what it might look like when winter came.     

   “Oh, God,” she whispered. “Here we go.”

 

   Emily hadn’t slept well. After a fitful night she got out of bed early, found her glasses and went to the bathroom to open the pregnancy kit. She turned the shower on, waiting for hot water, waiting for the stripe on the stick. The steam, like some ominous cloud, rose and fell over the shower curtain. One stripe beamed clearly, alone at first, indicating a negative. But as she watched, a second stripe followed, growing darker by the moment.  

   Neil sat on the bike waiting. He saw her coming and got off.

   “Let’s go home,” he said, rubbing his hands down her arms. 

   She shook her head. “I’m okay.”

   She almost wanted to go home. Straight home to languish under her quilt.

   “Em, you’re flushed.” He put a hand to her forehead. “We’ll go next weekend.”

   “We can’t. Or, you can’t. You have a conference.”

   “Right.”

   She took her helmet off the back of the bike, strapped it on and waited for him to mount.

   “Are you sure? Do you want to stop for anything?”

   “I need a restroom.”   

   When Neil pulled into the gas station she went straight to the ladies room and knelt on the floor, heaving over and over again. The rumble of motorcycles outside did nothing to drown out the awful retching she made. When her stomach settled she went to the sink, and with the cup of a hand, spilled water into her mouth. She lifted her head to the mirror. Her hair was frayed, her cheeks a fiery pink. She wiped her face with a handful of paper towels and grabbed her helmet. A woman came in, who hopefully hadn’t seen or heard anything. Emily nodded a polite hello.

   Stepping outside, she watched Neil maneuver the motorcycle in reverse. She could have told him then and there, could have asked him to shut the motorcycle off and let him know about the morning sickness, about the stripes. But telling him just then. Her lips tightened. And as she considered it, she felt the sharp prick of panic move through her chest, down every last inch of her fingertips.

 

**************

 

   Kevin could hear MaryAnne scurry around his bedroom, tossing her wallet, make-up and sketchbook into a backpack. It would be a day of firsts: taking a two-hour ride on his new Harley and introducing MaryAnne to his parents. Knowing better, he’d drank too much beer, and now last night’s inebriated bliss was this morning’s damn hangover. Making matters worse, he was stuck in the garage, grappling with his motorcycle. The bike was “new” in the broader sense, because it clearly was not as described by the previous owner. That is, he couldn’t get it started. 

   “Come on, baby,” he said. “Piece of shiiiit . . . you son of a—get in there!”

   A week ago, the Harley showed up online. He headed straight to MaryAnne’s studio and ran up the stairs.

   “You’re not going to believe this,” he said, out of breath.

   She was mid-water color on an easel. She put the paintbrush in a jar and stepped back to study her work. “Not going to believe what.”

  “Look.” He thrust a picture of the motorcycle at her and read aloud from a second page. “Twenty-four thousand miles. New intake valves and adjustable chromoly pushrods. . . the original candy red coat . . . he lives over in Pheasant Run, just over the bridge.”

   She studied the picture as he raved about it, his excitement growing with every detail listed. She brought the picture to the light of the window and turned to him, grinning. She walked up to him and ran a hand up his shirt.

   “What else does it say?” she said, bringing her lips to his neck.

   “He added new rear view mirrors and stiffer valve springs.”

   “Stiffer what?” she said with a raspy throat. She reached into his jeans.

   “Oh, baby,” he growled. “I’m calling.”

   “You are?” She tightened her embrace and kissed him, letting him hear her whisper. “You sure?”

   “Yes. I’m going to call . . . now.”

   “Now.” She pressed against him. He dropped the papers and unbuttoned her blouse.

   “In a minute,” he said, breathing into her ear.

   “Just one?”  

 

   He rubbed the sweat off his forehead and looked at his watch.

   “Damn it. This wire will not cooperate.”

   He tightened this and adjusted that, checking the plugs to make sure both cylinders had spark. Over and over, he’d climb on to kick-start it, then throw a string of expletives through the kitchen door.

   “We can just take the car!” MaryAnne shouted.

   “No!” he shouted back.

   Dakota’s ears were perked as she sat by his side, a sweet chocolate lab with a velvety coat and no breakfast. She’d carried her bowl into the garage and dropped it on the cement, wagging her tail as she waited for food.

   “Give me a sec, girl,” he said, petting her head with his cleaner hand.  

  “Kev. I don’t mind driving,” MaryAnne said from the doorway. 

   He wasn’t listening. He stood up to give it another try. And with a pouf of glorious, blue smoke the bike rumbled alive.

   “Yeah!” He rolled the throttle, grinning at the sound of the thundering engine. He turned the bike off and swaggered into the bedroom, wrapping his arms around her waist. He kissed her, walking her backwards.

   “We’re good to go, babe.”

   Her chin twitched. “Are you sure?”

   “Just needed a little re-adjustment,” he said, and then, purring like a lion, “at the hands of a chrome genius.”

 

 

 

                                                                                                             7 Step Assignment/Rohrbach

 

1)   A woman with an unwanted pregnancy must contend with divorce, while she does everything she can to ensure the health of her baby.

2)   Neil, her husband, reminds Emily of their agreement to never have children. He is a nationally recognized psychologist, a professor at a small, private college. He is also writing a book under deadline and has been peer-nominated for a prestigious award in his field. He is driven, accomplished and well-respected, and Emily's pregnancy threatens to undermine his well-curated status. He never knew his father growing up and remembers being bullied because of it. Emily, too, grew up with just a mother, and Neil impresses upon her not only his lack of parental guidance but hers as well. Optimism cannot be listed as one of Neil's attributes. He sees the state of the world as dire - overpopulation and pollution spread over a fragile planet, rotting away at the hedonistic hands of a single species. Despite his professional manner, at home he asserts his will toward Emily with hurtful truths, condescension and distance. 

3)      A Year from September

         Ever After

        Stone Houses and Wild Gardens

4)      A Year from September explores the dark side of family loyalty, like A Million Reasons Why, and features the unlikely romance and interim wit of The Fastest Way to Fall. 

5)     When a young woman becomes pregnant, knowing her husband never wanted children, she must come to terms with the kind of man she married as she struggles with the health of her baby and a very uncertain future.

6)     a) Devastated, Emily works through morning sickness and a husband who abandoned her. She contributes to her own fate, however, because she had not been honest about her infertility. During a heated exchange with Neil, she confesses that she had been pregnant before. She reminds Neil about his sabbatical in Avignon three summers ago. Knowing that he didn’t want children, and that the doctors said the fetus might be compromised, she made an appointment for an abortion. But the day before, she miscarried. She had truly believed she was infertile. But now, she knows it was a certain kind of betrayal to have kept it from him. Emily had faith that Neil would change his mind. But when he doesn't, she knows she will raise her baby alone. 

     b) With her pregnancy looking perfectly viable, Emily is confident she will have a healthy baby. She overcomes her fears about her pregnancy and motherhood, alongside her sister, mother-in-law and new friend, Kevin, who all boost her spirits and help her make a new home. Later, Emily and Kevin become closer. The attraction between them heats up, culminating in a night of passion. Soon after, Kevin abruptly proposes. But Emily, sensing misplaced chivalry instead of deeper, long-term value, says no. She wants him as a friend and lover, even as she comes to terms with letting Neil go.

7)   On a cool autumn morning, Emily mistakenly arrives at a suburban home in a small town far from Philadelphia. Her friend, Kevin, has come for a Saturday brunch to introduce his girlfriend to his parents. It is his parent’s house, and his mother is still preparing the meal. The home is bright, and everyone welcoming. Despite the charming presentation, it casts a cloud over Emily, not just because she is the quintessential uninvited guest. Her envy is followed by longing. A lovely gesture like this—the dining room set with shiny porcelain plates, green Depression glass and a vase of sunflowers—is something her mother would never do.

Back in Philadelphia, Emily and Neil make their home in an old neighborhood, where houses with turrets and grand sycamores line the streets. It is a refuge for Neil, a professor of psychology, who purchased it years before he married, and he considers it his sacred space to write. The curved sash windows are tall and bright, and Emily has her desk beneath one, where she can look across the yard to the edge of the woods to see the foxes and deer poke their noses through the shrubs.

Emily will miss this home. But not for long. Her new friend, Kevin, has found an old stone cottage with a Dutch oven fireplace and winding staircase. The wooden floors are infused with a hundred years of smoke and spices. The owner had planted the window boxes, spilling with deep pink impatiens and fern, and Emily is forewarned that a resident pair of testy turkey vultures will roost on the chimney all summer. Here, in a cottage house planted with fragrant iris and healing witch hazel, Emily will not only stake her ground, her soul, and raise her new baby, she will also fall in love again.

Neil leaves for London to see his dying father. To meet him for the very first time. Neil had spent his childhood in England, and here he is, at his old haunt, all the cobwebs intact. The city has changed, but the neighborhood in Notting Hill hasn’t much. The small bakery, cigar shop and book store look as if they hadn’t aged in decades. And when Neil finds his father lying in hospice in a rectory, with the church bells ringing in the courtyard and the scent of pressed linen upon his bed, it's as if this otherworldly air draws the curtains on a stage of eminent death.

Accepting the invitation from one of his colleagues, Neil tags on a trip to Italy. He indulges in the food and wine, and dreams of Machiavelli, tortured in a fire-lit chamber by the thugs of the Medici. He gorges on gelato and people-watches from park benches, gazing at the elaborate marble fountains, the balconies lush with purple geranium, the raucous fishing boats and the lone pelican perched on a piling. His memory is jarred with images of Emily in Paris. Now, thousands of miles from home, the threads of his convictions unravel. With all of this anger, his love for Emily had not wavered.

After Emily gives birth, the hospital is where everyone gathers, in a darkened and quiet room, the IV pinned inside the delicate skin of the sleeping patient’s arm. Neil, his best friend Doug, Kevin, Emily’s sister and mother-in-law are all there. While Emily sleeps, it provides a place for the perfect storm: an altercation with Kevin and Neil. And no one, not even Neil’s best friend nor his mother, can deny how he failed her.

After Kevin gets a new job in Pittsburgh, he settles in with a heavy heart. The rivers, the magnificent snowy days, the shimmering bridges - he can see it all from his hillside apartment. It beckons for a friend to share it with, some diversion in the flesh that can help him stop thinking about Emily. He does run into an old friend, who takes Kevin along the river paths and to his favorite creaky, old pubs.

Kevin returns to Philadelphia to move his father out of his house, to live with him in Pittsburgh. The home Kevin grew up in becomes increasingly empty. Every room is hollow and their voices carry down the hallway. The pond they built together is gathering leaves, and the dove with his mother's ashes still sits at the edge.

Emily is home nursing her baby, a fire in the fireplace and Miles Davis on the turntable. Kevin and his father had come for lunch before heading back to Pittsburgh and the house still smells of cinnamon and coffee. Kevin will be back in a few weeks. Emily walks around the house and makes a list for him: fix the loose hinge on the butter cabinet, replace a baseboard heater, repaint a windowsill. Outside, a quick but furious rainstorm pounds the petals off the roses.