I’m going to keep continuing with Sylvia’s story for a bit. Because, I’m enjoying her. I think she may end up being a very compelling character, no? So, today I’m joining a writing challenge from over at Velvet Verbosity. It’s a 100 word writing challenge using the word “witty’. And then, after the 100 word challenge, I’m going to continue on with another 500 words by joining the Light and Shade Challenge. That challenge uses either a picture or a quote. I’m using the quote. It’s by JK Rowling, “We touch other peoples’ lives simply by existing”. Let’s see how Sylvia’s story plays out, shall we?
Sylvia was jarred awake. It took her a moment to recognize where she was and then a bit longer for her heart to stop pounding. She must’ve fallen asleep because the last thing she remembered was watching the news and being pissed off at both the weather and Jim. The weather because it was supposed to be spring and yet 3 inches of snow was being predicted. Mother Nature probably thought she was being witty and wanted to have the last laugh. And Jim because she was just pissed off at him for no other reason than he pissed her off.
He was home now, snoring loudly next to her. Maybe that was what had awakened her. Or maybe it was this ungodly itch in her girl parts that had started about a month ago. She was thankful her gyno exam was scheduled for that morning because she didn’t know how much longer she could go without ripping the flesh clear off her crotch.
Sylvia was hoping that the diagnosis would be pregnancy. She knew that those hormones could cause crazy things to happen. If that was the case then she was willing to live with this crotch rot that was presenting itself. Her other thought was cancer. Because, that’s where her mind always went, especially now that she was entering mid-life. A time when waitresses started to call her ‘dear’. She hated that.
Trying not to disturb her sleeping husband, she got up and headed to their bathroom. Skin this dry, and in such a sensitive spot, deserved a large dollop of vaseline smeared all over it. Relieved, she climbed back into bed, slapped her husbands back to get him to quit snoring and then fell instantly back to sleep.
Birds on the branches outside Sylvia’s bedroom window woke her up with their incessant chirping. Jim was already downstairs making coffee, she could hear the grinder working its blades into the beans. She wanted to avoid all conversation with him this morning, she wasn’t in the mood to buy into his lies and excuses. She had more important things to worry about, like her reproductive health. Sylvia had a slight problem with obsessing and she was presently in the throes of it. She made a mental note to stay off Google, self diagnosis was no good for people like her.
After she got out of the shower and got herself ready for the doctor, wearing lightweight clothes so they wouldn’t add too much to her weight when she had to get on the scale, Sylvia went downstairs. Jim had left her some coffee and a note letting her know he’d be home for dinner and that he loved her. She fixed herself coffee, one Splenda and two tablespoons non-dairy creamer, took the note and sat at the kitchen table.
Sylvia loved her morning coffee. Afterward, she’d go into the garage and have one of the two daily cigarettes she allowed herself. The one in the morning, combined with the coffee, got things moving for her. She held Jim’s note in her hand and considered the last line. “I’m sorry I got home so late, I love you.” As she ripped the note into shreds, she thought about a quote she had read by JK. Rowlings. “We touch other peoples’ lives simply by existing”. She didn’t really know why those words came to mind at this very moment other than the fact that it didn’t necessarily mean in a positive way. Because, she was starting to be fairly convinced that Jim’s existence wasn’t touching her life in the way her life needed to be touched.
Sighing with her rapidly growing revelation, she grabbed the keys to her car and her purse and headed to the doctor to find out what her fate was. If Web MD and Dr. Google’s diagnoses were correct, the growing discontent was irrelevant. She’d either be growing a new life or fading from this one altogether.